《The Last Heir [A LitRPG, Progression-Fantasy Novel]》 Chapter 1 - The First Step Rowan ran for his life, dust kicking up behind his boots as he sprinted across the barren landscape of the Scorched Plateau. His lungs burned with every breath, the ash in the air stinging his eyes and clinging to him like a second skin. Columns of steam erupted from the fissures below, molten rock simmering just beneath the surface. Why do I keep doing this to myself? He cursed, leaping over a chasm just as fire roared beneath him. He hit the brittle ground hard, with cracks spider-webbing beneath his weight. All he¡¯d wanted was to practice his magic in peace, but his teleportation token just had to get creative with it. Rowan glanced back, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest. The Ember Crawler whose lair he¡¯d invaded was closing in, fury glowing in its beady, reptilian eyes. Its clawed limbs tore at the ground as it barreled toward him, spit flying from its snarling maw. He quickly scanned it.
Level: 11
Body: Iron III [11 Levels]
Core: N/A
It has five levels on me, he winced. That¡¯s¡­ not great. Rowan could feel his mana reserves running low. He¡¯d spent most of them trying to reach a flame vent, and failing to accomplish that goal had left him almost utterly spent. His legs ached with exhaustion, but he wasn¡¯t worried yet. His stats were more than enough to carry him through this mess. I just need to outpace it long enough for the token to finish charging.
Name: Rowan Undomniel-Athlain
Title: [Duke of Eiseylth]
Trait: [Immortal Soul]
Core: Red [74%] [5 Levels]
Body: Bronze I [1 Level]
Level: 6
Strength: 14
Dexterity: 25
Vitality: 20
Intelligence: 30
Willpower: 22
Focus: 17
Thank the Gods for good genetics. Rowan gathered his dwindling mana, throwing his hand back and casting a [Firebolt]. He completed the magic circuit instinctively, weaving the pattern through his body just as he¡¯d done a thousand times before. His Intent came next, giving the spell the power it needed to manifest fully. Piercing Flame. A radiant red orb appeared in his palm, its heat licking at his skin. Despite the danger, he couldn¡¯t help but smile. Even now, months after his Awakening, the thrill of magic never ceased to amaze him. This is never going to get old, he thought, a grin tugging at his lips. The [Firebolt] shot through the air, but the Ember Crawler moved away with alarming speed. It exploded against the ground, showering the monster in a rain of dust and rock. The impact didn¡¯t harm the creature¡ªits hard carapace easily dealing with the lackluster attack¡ª but it sure did piss it off. The Crawler bellowed, its muscled neck contracting as it spit out an oily glob from its gullet. The projectile hurtled towards Rowan, igniting mid-air. It might not have had a Core, but that didn¡¯t mean it couldn¡¯t fight from range. He threw himself out of the way, barely managing to dodge in time. Rowan could feel the heat of the Crawler¡¯s spit as it splattered near him. Small droplets sizzled against his enchanted coat, failing to find purchase. His legs shook beneath him as he forced himself to stand up, every breath labored, the weight of exhaustion creeping into his limbs. His teleportation token glowed faintly, far from fully charged. He glared at the folded piece of parchment stuck into his belt, willing it to go faster. Another glob sailed over his shoulder, and Rowan felt his frustration rising. At the monster chasing him, at being chased, and most of all, at himself for running. That frustration quickly turned to anger. He slid to a stop, feet digging into the ground as he turned to face the creature. The Crawler howled, barreling towards him, its enormous weight tearing up at the earth. Enough running, he decided. His title might not have been earned, but it was still his. By blood and duty, it was his. What kind of Duke runs from an overgrown lizard? He took a deep breath, his mana already moving. Serpent of Fire, Rowan intoned, casting [Burning Whip]. A tendril of flame erupted from his back, curling around his arm. Despite the exhaustion, Rowan found himself grinning, the familiar thrill of magic surging through him, urging him on. The whip hissed as it slashed through the air, snaking around the beast''s front leg. Rowan kept moving, dodging the Crawler¡¯s wild swings as it thrashed about, trying to dislodge the fiery appendage. Its massive frame stumbled as the whip seared through its thick carapace, hissing in pain. Almost there, he gritted his teeth, forcing his mana to keep flowing. Suddenly, the monster''s leg gave out beneath it, and it collapsed with a pained roar. Rowan released his spell. The [Burning Whip] dissipated as he let go of his Intent. But he wasn¡¯t done yet. The Crawler reared back, a frantic look in its eyes. It was easy to forget that these monsters weren¡¯t mindless beasts, but creatures who had access to the System, same as him. Yet Rowan didn¡¯t feel remorse. If it could, this beast would have killed him. The least he could do was return the sentiment. The ground trembled as it tried to limp away, its heavy limbs pounding the earth, each blow sending a tremor through his feet. Even on three legs, the Crawler lived up to its name. Moving away from him in a desperate bid for survival. Blood dripped down from its mangled limb into the dry earth, feeding it.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Rowan¡¯s gaze sharpened, his thoughts going cloudy. The thrill was coursing through his veins, and he made no effort in suppressing it. He pulled at the last vestiges of his mana. The orb of flame appearing in his hand flickered precariously, trying to draw on energy that wasn¡¯t there, threatening to dissipate. Rowan clamped down on it with his will, barely managing to hold it together. It wasn¡¯t the best spell he¡¯d ever cast, but it would do. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the spell flying¡ªand this time, the Crawler was too slow to dodge. It whistled as it flew through the air. His bolt striking true and piercing through the monster''s carapace with an explosion of blood and shattered bone. An agonized shriek echoed across the barren plateau, the Crawler''s leg now barely connected to the rest of its body by a thin strand of muscle and sinew. It was on death''s door, yet it didn¡¯t stop moving. Growling in frustration, Rowan didn¡¯t think as he reached into the ring on his right hand. His family may have been dead, his home lost, but the wealth of a Great House ran deep.
Name: Ironwood Spear
Grade: Uncommon
There were thousands just like it in the Vault. Losing a few wouldn¡¯t hurt him. He gripped the plain, unadorned spear firmly in his hand. It wasn¡¯t anything special. A spearhead made of finely worked steel and a shaft of quality wood. It was a weapon a novice adventurer would wield. But just because it wasn¡¯t enchanted didn¡¯t make it any less deadly. Rowan planted his feet, twisting his torso as he drew the spear back, the muscles in his back coiling in anticipation. His arm snapped forward, releasing the spear in one, fluid motion. It cut through the air, its polished tip glinting in the fading light. Before it even reached its target, Rowan was already gripping an identical spear, setting up another throw. The beast barely had time to react before it pierced its side with a wet crunch, embedding itself deep into its already wounded flesh. Rowan didn¡¯t hear its pained howl over the pounding in his ears. Just end it, he told himself, his hands shaking. But as he raised his spear, he felt the thrill withdrawing, leaving behind a strange emptiness. The anger that had fueled him moments ago began to fade, his grip around the spear slackened as his body sagged with fatigue. Rowan watched the wounded creature limp away, shaking his head, trying to clear the fog from his thoughts. With the wounds he¡¯d inflicted the Crawler was as good as dead. The Scorched Plateau was a lot of things, but forgiving, it was not. If it wanted to have any hope of surviving it would need to find a vent. And with the state it was in, that didn¡¯t seem likely. The teleportation token at his belt finally activated, a faint purple light surrounding him. Rowan collapsed onto the ground, feeling his muscles start to relax as the tension of the battle faded. ¡°At least I won,¡± he muttered, but even to himself, the words felt hollow. That had been happening more often as of late. His emotions running away from him and overwhelming his common sense. Rowan knew he needed to work on it, but that was a dragon he¡¯d need to slay some other time. The air around him shimmered as the token completed its work, whisking him away from the Plateau with a soft pop, leaving behind nothing but a faint purple mist. The world blurred, and Rowan reappeared in his study, collapsing onto the hard stone floor. Groaning, he blinked away the stars dancing across his vision. He¡¯d gotten better at enduring it over the last few months, but the sudden shift in space always made him nauseous. Teleportation was the domain of mages much stronger than him, so he wasn¡¯t going to complain. The tokens might not have been comfortable to use, but they worked, and that was all that mattered. Wincing, Rowan staggered to his feet. As he ran a hand through his onyx-black hair, it came away covered in soot and dust. He sighed, rolling his shoulders. ¡°I need a bath.¡± Rowan unbuckled his trusty coat and set it aside, followed by his torn shirt and shredded pants. ¡°At the rate I¡¯m going through clothes, I¡¯ll empty the Vault by the end of the year.¡± That wasn¡¯t true, of course. His family¡¯s Vault had enough gear to outfit an imperial legion ten times over, but he was making a real effort out of it. Rowan made his way to the bathroom, summoning a low-grade water crystal from his ring and slotting it into the wall. Warm water cascaded over him as the enchantments activated, soothing his aching muscles. He closed his eyes, letting the heat soak into him. Today¡¯s training had drained him¡ªmentally and physically. As the haze of comfort and relaxation draped around his shoulders, his mind started to wander. Memories he¡¯d been doing his best to suppress bubbling to the surface. A city engulfed in flames. Towering horns, a monstrous shadow looming over a crumbling castle. Two figures flying up to meet it. Rowan¡¯s chest tightened, his throat constricting. ¡°I should have been there,¡± he whispered, pressing his hands against the shower wall, his breath coming in shallow gasps. ¡°I could have¡­¡± Done nothing, he told himself. Died alongside them. Rowan slammed his fist against the wall, his knuckles scraping against the rough stone. The pain grounded him, bringing him back to the present. He took a deep, shuddering breath, letting it out slowly. Acknowledge it and move on. He forced his muscles to relax, clenching his jaw until the memories receded. The truth was, him being there wouldn¡¯t have changed a thing. He hadn¡¯t even Awakened then. Rowan had watched the events unfold from the relative safety of his family¡¯s countryside estate. Watched as the city of his birth burned, as the Jewel of the North fell. Both his parents had been Archmages. Both had advanced their Cores to Violet, on the cusp of grasping the peak. And both had died. More images followed, these ones different but equally as painful. Though in another way entirely. His father¡¯s kind smile. The smell of his mother''s cooking. His siblings laughter as they chased each other through the halls. Then he remembered the day he¡¯d exiled himself to spare his family the disgrace of having a dull child. They had protested. Telling him he didn¡¯t need to go, that they wanted him home, but Rowan had insisted. And in the end, that choice had saved his life. I was supposed to be there. I was supposed to¡ª Before the thought could finish, Rowan clamped down on it with a vice-like grip, sending it into the further recesses of his mind. A familiar chill settled into his bones, his thoughts settling. I¡¯ll make them pay. He repeated the vow like a mantra. He would find out who was responsible. He would grow strong enough to face them¡ªand when he did, he would get justice. But that path wasn¡¯t going to be a short one. The water crystal flickered, drained of its mana. Rowan sighed, plucking it out and throwing it into the basket with all the rest of them. Drying himself off, he threw on some clean clothes and made his way towards the bedroom, collapsing onto his bed. Exhaustion tugged at his consciousness, but he knew sleep would evade him, the same way it had for the last year. Rowan glanced at his status, determination filling him.
Core: Red [74%] [5 Levels]
It had been five months since he¡¯d gained the System, and he was already three-quarters of the way towards advancing his Core to Orange¡ªtowards gaining a second affinity. Something that took most mages years to accomplish, Rowan could have done in a month. He didn¡¯t know the full extent of what his trait did. He¡¯d only heard of them in passing from the many tutors who had taught him over the years, but that was it.
Trait: [Immortal Soul]
Rowan had spent more time than he¡¯d care to admit trying to figure out what having an [Immortal Soul] meant, but he hadn¡¯t gotten far, the deeper truths of his trait eluding him. It gave him an unparalleled speed of progression, that he knew for certain. If only that didn¡¯t require him to spend hours on end alone with his thoughts. He still forced himself to work on it. While he might have been ahead of mages of the same rank, he was still far behind his peers. His unnaturally late Awakening having seen to that. Most gained access to the System at thirteen, and with him turning twenty just a few short months ago, it put him seven years behind. They¡¯re all Yellow-core mages already, Rowan grimaced. Well on their way towards Green. In theory, he could have locked himself in a room and advanced his Core to Orange months ago. Gaining a second affinity was a tantalizing prospect, but he knew better. Why have two sticks when you can have a spear? His mother''s words came to him unbidden, a small smile creeping onto his face. It would have been a mistake to focus all of his efforts on advancing. The five levels he¡¯d get would certainly be useful, but a mage¡¯s power didn¡¯t come from stats. It came from his arsenal.
Whisper: [Flash], [Heat], [Ember Spray], [Heat Wave], [Burning Hands]
Murmur: [Firebolt], [Fire Shield], [Burning Whip]
Chant: [/]
Hymn: [/]
Aria: [/]
Ode: [/]
Epic: [/]
Rowan had spent the better part of his life begging, pleading, and praying to any god that would listen, hoping for a miracle. By seventeen, he¡¯d already resigned himself to the fact he would never wield magic¡ªthat he would never experience the same joy he saw in the eyes of those around him. He closed his eyes, letting his body sink into the soft bedding, trying to relax. Almost absentmindedly, he started threading mana through his channels, moving it down a familiar path. It gave him something to hold on to, the weight of it grounding him. The magic circuit for [Fireball] completed. It would take only a flicker of his Intent to turn his room into a smoldering pile of rubble, but Rowan held back, continuing to channel his mana without giving it meaning. Shame I didn¡¯t manage to reach a vent today, he thought to himself. I¡¯m so close to mastering it. I can almost taste it. His Intent was crude. Barely strong enough to manifest the Chant. But it worked, and it would only grow stronger with practice. Rowan had taken to magic like a starved man offered a feast. It was one of the few things that gave him respite from the darkness that swirled ever closer. There were circuits to memorize, spells to master, and even the pantheon itself wouldn¡¯t have been able to keep him away from that task. Suddenly, the familiar flutter of wings distracted him from his thoughts. A black blur shot through the window a moment later, landing beside him with an excited trill. Rowan groaned, pulling a pillow over his face. ¡°Seriously, Kai? Again with the rats?¡± His raven familiar tilted his head proudly, hopping closer and dropping the unfortunate rodent onto the bed. ¡°No,¡± Rowan muttered, peeking out from under the pillow. ¡°You¡¯re getting blood all over my sheets. Take that up to your nest.¡± Kai croaked indignantly before snatching his prize back, pecking at Rowan¡¯s hand and taking off, clearly offended at the lack of enthusiasm for his magnificent hunt. He landed in his nest and gulped down the rat in one swift motion, bones and all. Despite himself, Rowan chuckled, feeling lighter than he had just a moment ago. ¡°You glutton, you don¡¯t know how easy you have it,¡± he smiled, scanning his familiar. ¡°Gaining levels from eating. Now that just isn¡¯t fair.¡±
Level: 9
Body: Iron II [9 Levels]
Core: N/A
Kai cawed smugly, tilting his head up with pride. Rowan chuckled. ¡°Don¡¯t get cocky. Give me a week or two to advance and I¡¯ll be a higher level again. Won¡¯t be so tough then.¡± His royal highness didn¡¯t deign that with a response, instead fluffing his feathers and settling in for a nap. Rowan shook his head in amusement, pulling off the slightly bloody sheet and tossing them into the corner. He lay back down, staring at the ceiling as his thoughts churned. It was still daylight out. He¡¯d teleported to the Plateau at sunrise, and failing to reach a vent had cut his trip short. The whole day was ahead of him, and Rowan certainly wasn¡¯t going to spend it in bed. He sat back up, exhaling slowly. ¡°Kai, I¡¯m heading out,¡± he said, pulling his coat back on. ¡°I¡¯ll come and get you if I plan on heading into the Wilds.¡± His familiar let out a sleepy trill, too comfortable to protest. Rowan left the bedroom, moving through the house he¡¯d been renting for the last few months. He knew exactly where he was going. The Guild Hall was always busy. There was always something to keep his mind occupied. Rowan opened the door and stepped out into the vibrant city of Litwick. It wasn¡¯t Eiseylth, in fact, it was as far from it as one could get. He¡¯d exchanged the deep north for the far south. The grand cathedrals for threadbare temples. The Archmages and Praetorians for hedge mages and Adventurers. But Rowan was exactly where he needed to be. For what he planned, this city was perfect. Chapter 2 - A Quest Taken Rowan strode through the bustling streets of Litwick, walking along the well-worn cobblestone paths. The tang of grilled meat and spiced ale lingered in the air, mingling with the faint scent of wildflowers that bloomed just outside the city walls. Vendors called out to passersby, hawking their wares in loud, cheerful voices. Litwick was a peaceful settlement in the Verdant Vale with around ten thousand people calling it home. Barely large enough to even be considered a city. Tucked away in an insignificant corner of the kingdom, Litwick was exactly where Rowan wanted to be. Far away from anything¡ªand anyone¡ªimportant. The chances of someone coming to look for him here were slim. Especially after the way he¡¯d left Eiseylth. Not many people had cared about a wayward son of a fallen Great House, so the moment he¡¯d Awakened and gained access to the Vault, Rowan had used the tokens inside to teleport away. Leaving a burned-down mansion in his wake. He doubted anyone had looked too far into it. Rowan might have been the last scion of a once prosperous bloodline, but he¡¯d also been dull. Cut off from the System and all the boons that came with it. To the rest of the world, House Athlain had died on the day the demon was summoned. His gaze wandered over to the towering walls that surrounded the city. The same walls that every settlement needed to have if it wanted even the slightest chance of lasting more than a year. The Wilds were an unforgiving place, and as of late, people were asking themselves if they should have built them higher. Snippets of conversations came to him as he made his way towards the Guild Hall. There were talks of farms being raided during the night, of monsters that had no business being this far south appearing more and more often. There were other conversations too, but those he tried his hardest to ignore. ¡°...telling you, ever since House Athlain fell, the world¡¯s gone to shit,¡± a wiry shopkeeper lamented. ¡°Ain¡¯t that the truth,¡± a woman nodded. ¡°The other Houses are so focused on carving up their lands that they¡¯re leaving the Walls unmanned. Who knows what kind of horrors managed to pass through while they play their little games.¡± ¡°I heard there were harpy sightings in Tumbleton,¡± another man added. ¡°Can you believe that? Harpies? In the Vale?¡± he shook his head. ¡°We¡¯re in for a tough year, that¡¯s for damn sure.¡± The shopkeeper sighed, handing a meat skewer to the woman. ¡°As always, shit flows downwards. Not much we can do but endure and wait for it to pass.¡± Rowan kept walking, his fists clenched. They don¡¯t know how right they are, he thought to himself. It¡¯s a full migration. Something gets past the Walls, establishes its territory, and forces the other monsters to move. And down the chain it goes, from the Walls to the Vale. He gritted his teeth. Riches and power, that¡¯s all the other Houses see. His family had been a bulwark against the Far Wilds of the North for generations. Safeguarding the kingdom from threats uncountable. It had made them rich, and powerful, yet it was in the service of something greater. Rowan had been taught that the privileges afforded to them came with a cost. They came with a duty. An obligation. It was the burden of the powerful to lead their charges into a brighter future. To give them a chance to step into that role themselves. He knew it was already too late to stop the surge. It was more than a year in the making, and with the turmoil the fall of his House caused, it might take decades for balance to return. Rowan passed through the now familiar streets, moving past blacksmiths and tailors, shops and taverns. But it wasn¡¯t until he got closer to the Guild Hall that he began seeing adventurers. Distinguishing them from regular citizens wasn¡¯t all that hard. They openly wore their weapons, their armor gleaming in the sunlight. Some of them caught his eye, nodding in greeting. He returned the nods and continued on his way. It wasn¡¯t long before he reached his destination. The Adventurer¡¯s Guild Hall was more a compound than a singular building. It occupied the whole street, the marble facade polished, though the interior was anything but. The massive wooden doors stood perpetually over. Night or day, it didn¡¯t matter. There was always something happening here. The only time it seemed to quiet down was in the early hours of the morning, when most of the people who spent their night here slept off their drunken stupors. Just as Rowan stepped inside, a mug sailed across the room, crashing into the wall behind him. He ducked away from the splash, his gaze moving to the commotion. ¡°I saw it first,¡± a tall, wide-shouldered man said, glaring down at a lanky-looking youth tucking a piece of paper into his pocket. ¡°Then you must have seen me taking it too,¡± the youth shrugged, not seeming all that bothered by the other adventurer¡¯s threatening posture. The man growled, and just as he pulled his arm back to throw a punch, the barkeep interjected. ¡°You know the rules,¡± he grumbled, absentmindedly polishing a glass, his deep, raspy voice stopping the adventurer cold. ¡°If you want to fight, do it in the pits.¡± Rowan snorted a laugh, Emanuel¡¯s job seems exhausting. Though the grumpy old man was certainly more than capable of doing it. After all, being among the few dozen Silver-ranks in the city came with some perks. Respect being one of them.
Level: 27
Body: Silver IV [27 Levels]
Core: N/A
None of the other people in the Hall seemed to be paying all that much attention to the situation¡ªthe usual chaos of a midday at the Guild nothing new to them. ¡°Winner gets the quest,¡± the man said, his fists clenched at his sides. The boy snorted. ¡°I already have it. Why would I risk it for no gain?¡± With a sly smile, he rubbed his fingers together. ¡°Five gold.¡± The man¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Are you out of your mind!? The quest¡¯s only worth three!¡± ¡°You scared Kiki?¡± the boy grinned, patting his pocket. ¡°Think you¡¯re gonna lose?¡± That seemed to set the man off, his eyes narrowing. ¡°I¡¯m going to enjoy making you squeal.¡± Nothing more needed to be said, and the two adventurers made their way towards the arena. Unfortunately for them, it was already occupied. Though it didn¡¯t seem like it would stay that way for long. Inside the dueling pit, a short but sturdy woman was straddling a massive bear of a man, raining fists and elbows onto his face. Even over the cheering, Rowan thought he heard the sound of a nose breaking. With a haymaker, the man¡¯s eyes rolled back, and an even louder cheer went out. Her fight won, the woman didn¡¯t feel a need to continue pummeling her opponent. She stood up, swaying slightly on her feet with a bloody grin stretched across her face, raising her fist into the air. It didn¡¯t take long for the unconscious man to be dragged outside while the woman jumped over the railing. Landing next to her team as they congratulated her, a mug quickly thrust into her hands. The earlier duo already jumping in to replace them. Being an adventurer required a certain type of personality. And with so many of them in the same place¡ªnot to mention the copious amount of booze flowing from the taps¡ªit was practically a given that disagreements would arise. The problem with that was that these people fought for a living. They faced down monsters and danced with death every time they left for the Wilds. If they were allowed to fight amongst themselves without any rules, the city of Litwick would be without adventurers in less than a fortnight. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. That was where the pits came in. No weapons. No skills. Just pure martial might. It wasn¡¯t the fairest way to settle disputes, but it was a good one, and that was all that mattered here. Rowan looked around, trying to see if he could spot anyone familiar. After a moment, his eyes landed on a familiar redhead and a burly swordsman talking next to the quest board. Both of them were armed, with the woman holding a fine looking spear by her side, and the man with a greatsword strapped across his back. Rowan had taken on a few missions with a couple of different teams. And out of all of them, the Crimson Grove was by far his favorite. They were capable and driven. Willing to take on the hard, dangerous tasks that were more trouble than they were worth. Their desire to grow stronger matching Rowan¡¯s own. And it doesn''t hurt that they don¡¯t treat me like a walking meal ticket. Most teams were eager to have a mage join them when venturing into the Wilds. Even though Rowan hadn¡¯t advanced his core to Orange yet, simply possessing an affinity made him as valuable as a Silver-ranked warrior¡ªthe tier at which they gained an Aura. That usually ended with him killing the monsters from range while others stood around and watched, happy to have someone else do all the work. From their perspective, it was free gold. But for Rowan, it was a waste of time. He could do the same thing on his own. Rowan walked up to the duo, glancing over their shoulders. ¡°See anything good?¡± The girl yelped and spun around, glaring daggers at him. ¡°I told you to stop doing that,¡± she said, crossing her arms. Rowan suppressed a laugh, knowing it would only set her off. ¡°What? It¡¯s not my fault you¡¯re so jumpy.¡± Annie nudged him with the heel of her spear. ¡°You¡¯re a mage, not a rogue,¡± she muttered. ¡°You have no business being sneaky. Make a bit of noise, would you? You¡¯re lucky I didn¡¯t skewer you.¡± Rowan raised an eyebrow. ¡°You¡¯d miss.¡± Annie narrowed her eyes. ¡°Wanna bet?¡± ¡°Alright, alright, enough of that now,¡± Nemir snorted, looking at Rowan with an amused smile. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you again, Jamis,¡± he said, extending a hand. ¡°We were actually just talking about you.¡± Rowan returned the handshake, the swordsman''s callused palm gripping his firmly. ¡°Oh? What about?¡± Annie tore a flier from the board, handing it to him. ¡°Goblins.¡± Goblins? He frowned, taking the flier and quickly scanning it. On their own, goblins weren¡¯t much of a threat. They were small, vicious creatures, with not a lot of brains and even less brawn. In a small group, even a Bronze-ranked team should have been more than enough to deal with them. But the quest was ranked for Iron and above, and as he finished reading, Rowan realized why. ¡°A pack, huh?¡± he muttered, his lips twisting into a half-smile. ¡°Perfect.¡± His visit to the Plateau had left him feeling antsy, and taking out his frustrations on those green pests was exactly what he needed. ¡°Alright. I¡¯m in,¡± Rowan nodded, handing the flier back. ¡°That was quick,¡± Annie smirked. He shrugged. ¡°I could use the training.¡± ¡°The reward isn¡¯t bad either,¡± Annie nodded. ¡°Twenty gold to take out some pests? Sign me up,¡± she glanced at him, arching an eyebrow. ¡°You still fine with our usual split? I wouldn¡¯t want some other team poaching you because you can¡¯t feed yourself.¡± Rowan snorted. ¡°First off, I¡¯m not a ham. And secondly, yeah, I¡¯m more than fine with it. We work well together, and trying to find another team I won¡¯t have to babysit sounds exhausting.¡± Not like I need the gold anyway, he thought to himself, instinctively rolling the ring on his finger. But I¡¯m definitely not going to tell her that. She¡¯d never buy another round again. Nemir neatly folded the piece of paper, putting it into his pocket. ¡°Fantastic,¡± he smiled. ¡°I¡¯ll go and get the quest assigned to us. Annie, could you inform Silvia and Omi? I think they¡¯re out back in the training yard.¡± ¡°Sure thing. Meet back here in half an hour?¡± Nemir glanced at Rowan. ¡°Does that work for you?¡± His Core was still mostly empty from his fights in the Plateau, and for other mages, half an hour wasn¡¯t nearly enough time to refill it. It took a whole day for his mana to replenish naturally, but that was if he did nothing to help it along. Meditation could cut that down to just around three hours, and Rowan had a way of pushing that down even further. ¡°Yeah, I should be fine,¡± he answered. ¡°I practiced some spells in the morning. I¡¯ll go and meditate, get my mana back up.¡± Nemir nodded. ¡°Alright. Take as long as you need. The quest isn¡¯t going anywhere, and I¡¯d rather have you at full strength than for us to get there quicker.¡± ¡°Probably a good idea,¡± Annie said. ¡°Meditation is supposed to be calming, right? And you look wound tighter than an alchemist''s purse.¡± Rowan forced his muscles to relax, unclenching his fists, though the tension didn¡¯t leave him entirely. Meditating wasn¡¯t something he enjoyed, and calming was the last word he¡¯d used to describe it. Being forced to sit in silence with his own thoughts rarely ended well for him. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he waved her off. ¡°Just excited.¡± Nemir clapped him on the back, a reassuring smile on his face. ¡°Keep that fire stoked. We¡¯re going to need it.¡± With that, the burly-looking swordsman walked away. Making his way towards the reception. Annie, on the other hand, didn¡¯t move. Tapping her foot impatiently and watching him with an eager smirk. ¡°I¡¯m not a mind reader, Annie,¡± Rowan snorted. ¡°Use your words.¡± She flashed him a grin. ¡°Scan me.¡± Rowan complied, his eyes widening in surprise.
Level: 11
Body: Iron III [11 Levels]
Core: N/A
¡°Would you look at that,¡± he whistled. ¡°Organ Fortification done, huh? Well, congratulations,¡± Rowan returned her grin. ¡°At least now you won¡¯t crumple like a wet piece of paper when someone punches you in the liver.¡± ¡°That happened once!¡± she shot back, but even Rowan¡¯s teasing wasn¡¯t able to hamper her good mood. ¡°But yeah, Iron III,¡± she shook her head, letting out a long, drawn-out breath. ¡°Finally.¡± ¡°Just Blood Purification and Nerve Reinforcement to go,¡± Rowan nodded, a genuine smile on his face. ¡°You¡¯ll be Silver in no time.¡± ¡°Here¡¯s to hoping,¡± Annie chuckled. ¡°What about you?¡± she asked, glancing at him knowingly. ¡°Hitting Bronze II isn¡¯t all that hard. I¡¯d even be willing to help you out.¡± ¡°Would you now?¡± Rowan crossed his arms. ¡°And that wouldn¡¯t have anything to do with you wanting to spend a few days hitting me with a stick?¡± ¡°No way!¡± she exclaimed, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. ¡°My reasons are purely selfless. I¡¯m honestly offended you¡¯d even think that.¡± Rowan snorted. ¡°Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.¡± She might be right though, he thought. Skin Toughening isn¡¯t all that hard to do. And gaining a skill would definitely be useful. But like everything in his life, time was the limiting factor. His list of tasks was ever growing, and the hours in a day unfortunately stayed the same. Mastering spells and advancing his Core took up a bulk of his time, leaving little room for anything else. The idea of working on his body was definitely tempting¡ªanother layer of strength to add¡ªbut finding the time seemed impossible. After I advanced, he decided. I have healing potions in the Vault to help me along. It shouldn¡¯t take me more than a week. It wouldn¡¯t be fun, but Body refinement rarely was. ¡°I might take you up on that offer,¡± he said. ¡°But after I push my Core to Orange. That¡¯s the priority right now.¡± ¡°You mages have it so easy,¡± she grumbled. ¡°All you have to do is think real hard and poof, you¡¯re stronger.¡± Rowan rolled his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m not going to dignify that comment with a response.¡± She chuckled, but a moment later, Annie¡¯s expression grew serious. ¡°You know, these goblin packs have been appearing more and more often,¡± she ran a hand through her blood-red hair. ¡°There¡¯s been talk of a tribe.¡± Rowan¡¯s eyes widened. A goblin tribe was a serious threat, and for a city as small and isolated as Litwick, it might prove too much for them to handle on their own. ¡°A tribe? Do you know which one?¡± Rowan asked. ¡°If they¡¯re this far south, they¡¯re bound to have passed by a settlement or two.¡± ¡°No. It¡¯s just rumors for now. But with the way things are looking?¡± She shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m not going to be holding my breath. Qui¨CI mean, the Guildmistress¡ª¡± she quickly corrected herself, narrowing her eyes and daring him to say anything. ¡°¡ªhas scouts looking into it. If I find out anything else, I¡¯ll let you know.¡± Rowan chuckled. ¡°We all know she¡¯s your aunt, Annie. It''s not a secret.¡± ¡°Yeah, but that doesn''t mean I want everyone else to know,¡± she muttered, glancing around to make sure no one overheard them. ¡°Anyways, I¡¯m going to find those two. You go and meditate. We¡¯ll meet back here when you¡¯re done.¡± And with that, she turned around and walked away, leaving Rowan on his own. He stood there a moment, thinking over what she said. Goblin tribes were Gold-ranked threats, and it wasn¡¯t just their numbers that made them dangerous. They were led by a Warchief and a Warlock, monsters that only two people in Litwick had any chance of dealing with. Quinea, the Guildmistress and the only Gold-ranked adventurer in the city, and Tremil, the mage advisor and only Yellow-core mage. And it didn¡¯t end there. Tribes weren¡¯t just filled with mindless goblins, but hobgoblins and shamans¡ªmonsters you needed Silver-ranks to deal with. Rowan sighed. I guess it¡¯s starting. It was hard not to feel nervous about being in the middle of a monster surge, but that was overshadowed by a burgeoning excitement. He needed to grow stronger. After all, that was the reason he¡¯d come to Litwick in the first place. To grow in power, to learn his magic, and to become something more than what he was. And fighting against shamans was the perfect way to do that. They might have been monsters, but more than that, they were casters. A whetstone to sharpen myself against. That¡¯s what I need. With renewed determination, Rowan moved to a quieter corner of the Guild Hall, the clattering of mugs and impacts of fists fading behind him. He sat down on an empty table, running his fingers over the rough grain. Looking around, he made sure that nobody was watching and moved a hand into his coat, summoning a vial filled with clear blue liquid.
Name: Mana Potion
Grade: Basic
On its own, the potion wouldn¡¯t do much. It was actually less effective than meditating, but Rowan had something others didn¡¯t. His trait. Mana potions didn¡¯t actually refill a mage''s reserves¡ªat least not until they were a much higher rank. But what they did do was agitate the Core, forcing it to refill itself faster. It wasn¡¯t a pleasant experience, and meditating on top of that was something no sane mage would ever do. It could lead to straining your soul, and in the worst cases, actually cracking your Core. But Rowan didn¡¯t have that problem. He uncorked the vial with a satisfying pop and gulped it down in one quick swig, feeling the bitter liquid burn slightly as it settled in his stomach. It was this next part that always proved problematic for him, but he closed his eyes and forced his mind to settle. His thoughts were a jumbled mess of excitement, frustration, and sorrow. The same as always. And as the world around him slowly slipped away, the lack of anything to focus on heightened them¡ªmade them jump to the forefront. His memories started burrowing out of the holes he¡¯d stuck them in, and all Rowan could do was endure. Gritting his teeth, he focused on his Core, feeling the potion start to work its magic. It thrummed with energy, the dual stimulation of the potion and his meditation working wonders. It started filling with mana at a noticeable rate, but Rowan was too distracted to notice. He settled in, knowing the next half hour wouldn¡¯t be pleasant. Memories rose¡ªunbidden. The faint crackle of fire, the acrid scent of wrongness in the air, the light of Dawn and the serenity of Dusk illuminating an orange sky. Rowan winced, forcing the memories back. But as always, the weight of them lingered, pressing down on him like a lead cloak. By the time his Core was once again full, he was more than ready to leave. A dull ache spread across his shoulders as he opened his eyes, his muscles coiled and ready to snap. It took him nearly a minute to get his breathing under control, sweat dripping down his back, feeling like he¡¯d spent the last half hour sprinting. Looking around, he spotted Nemir returning from the reception. Annie had managed to wrangle Omi and Silvia, the three of them already geared up and waiting by a nearby table. Standing up, Rowan stretched, trying to work out the tension. It didn¡¯t help all that much, but thankfully for him, he knew exactly what would. Time to go hunt some goblins. And with that exciting thought, he started making his way towards the group. Chapter 3 - Beyond The Walls ¡°...should have clocked him upside the head,¡± the sour looking rogue muttered as Rowan made his way over to the group. Silvia rolled her eyes. ¡°Omi, not everything needs to end in a fight. ¡± ¡°Omitar. Omi-tar,¡± he said poignantly. ¡°Stop butchering my name.¡± Before the conversation could devolve into their usual bickering, Nemir saw him walking over, a relieved expression flashing across his face. ¡°Ah, there he is,¡± he said. ¡°Are you ready?¡± Rowan nodded. ¡°Ready and eager to scalp some goblins,¡± he said with a strained smile, though besides Annie, none of the group seemed to notice it. She shot him a questioning glance, but he ignored it, hoping she¡¯d leave it alone. ¡°Murderous,¡± Omi smirked. ¡°I like it.¡± ¡°Jamis!¡± Silvia exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she saw him. She rushed forward, giving him a big hug. He still hadn¡¯t gotten used to people calling him that. Rowan wasn¡¯t an uncommon name, but in the wrong circles, it could lead to the wrong kind of attention. The chances of someone connecting the dots were slim, but there weren¡¯t many black-haired and gray-eyed Rowan¡¯s walking around the kingdom. Besides, it never hurt to be cautious. Rowan chuckled, patting her on the back. ¡°Nice to see you too, Sil.¡± She pulled back, gripping his shoulders and staring at him intently. ¡°Where is he?¡± she asked with uncharacteristic seriousness. Rowan laughed, pushing her off. ¡°At home. Probably lazing around.¡± ¡°Can we¡­?¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± he waved her off. ¡°He¡¯d peck my eyes out if I didn¡¯t take him with us.¡± ¡°Yes!¡± she pumped her fist. ¡°And by the way, he wouldn¡¯t do that to you. He¡¯s a good boy,¡± she said, pointing a finger at him. ¡°Maybe a finger or two. But an eye?¡± she shook her head. ¡°No way.¡± Annie snorted. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s go pick up that bloodthirsty little menace. Daylight¡¯s a wastin¡¯.¡± They left the crowded Guild Hall, the din of rowdy adventures and the clink of mugs fading behind them. Outside, the sun hung high in the air, casting short shadows on the cobblestone streets of Litwick. The scent of baked bread and spiced meat drifted from the nearby stalls, a welcome change from the stale air inside. Rowan inhaled deeply, savoring the crisp summer breeze that carried the faint whiff of freshly cut hay. ¡°Gods, does it smell in there,¡± he muttered, wrinkling his nose. ¡°Should have picked Wind instead of Fire,¡± Annie teased. ¡°You¡¯d never have to worry about smelling sweat and unwashed pits ever again.¡± Rowan snorted. ¡°Gee, I wish I thought of that when I was making the single most important decision in my life.¡± ¡°You really should have,¡± Annie nodded sagely. ¡°But oh well, we all make mistakes. At least now you know what to pick next.¡± Rowan chuckled, shaking his head. Annie¡¯s joke hit closer to the mark than she knew. He¡¯d decided on Wind as his second affinity a long time ago. Fire gave him all the offensive power he would ever need, and he tried to shore up his weaknesses by investing into Dexterity. Most mages didn¡¯t fight up close, but Rowan was never one to shy away from a brawl. And to do that, he needed speed. More speed than he could get with just his stats. That was where Wind came in. There were spells to boost mobility. Ones Rowan was more than eager to learn. It also didn¡¯t hurt that the combination led to Lightning at tier-two. One step at a time, he reminded himself. That¡¯s months away, at best. Focus on the present. Looking at the four people accompanying him, Rowan couldn¡¯t help it as his lips curled up into a small, genuine smile. It was easy to fall back on what he knew¡ªbitterness, sorrow, the kind of loneliness that had become second nature. But here, in this distant city so far away from home, surrounded by people who called him a friend, Rowan found himself laughing along to their jokes. For now, the thoughts that perpetually clouded his mind faded away. He knew it wouldn¡¯t last. They would be back, the same as they always did when his head hit the pillow. But right now, he didn¡¯t care. It was a grain of sand against a desert. But it was better than nothing. It was a start. . . . ¡°I¡¯m so happy I could die,¡± Silvia cooed, nuzzling her head against Kai¡¯s soft feathers. When she thought no one was looking, she pulled out a small brown lump and fed it to him.
Name: Beast Pellet
Grade: Basic
¡°Stop spoiling the little glutton,¡± Rowan smiled. ¡°You¡¯ll never get rid of him if you keep doing that.¡± ¡°That¡¯s the plan,¡± Silvia grinned, placing Kai on her shoulder. Rowan frowned. ¡°Are you trying to bribe away my familiar?¡± ¡°Do you even feed the poor guy?¡± Annie added, arching an eyebrow. ¡°He¡¯s all skin and bones.¡± Kai let out an offended squawk, spreading his wings wide, showing off. ¡°Please,¡± Rowan snorted. ¡°He eats like a king.¡± Well, besides the rats.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. He put a hand into his coat pocket, hiding the fact that he was using his ring and pulling out a similar brown pellet. Only this one was significantly better.
Name: Beast Pellet
Grade: Uncommon
Kai let out a happy trill as Rowan threw the treat high into the air, flapping his powerful wings and heading after it. Silvia was about to say something, but Nemir interjected. ¡°Alright, enough joking around,¡± he said, his expression serious. ¡°We¡¯re almost at the tree-line, keep your eyes peeled.¡± The rest of the team nodded, the playful atmosphere dissipating in moments. Annie¡¯s grip tightened around her spear. Silvia pulled out an arrow and placed it against the string of her bow, her gaze roaming their surroundings. Omi stood next to her, two dangerous-looking daggers in his hands. They had left the safety of the city walls half an hour ago, traveling across the flat plains surrounding the city. This close, the Wilds were relatively tame. Adventurers patrolled at all hours of the day, keeping the farms and the people manning them safe. But they were heading deeper in. Past the treeline that marked the border between Litwick and the Wilds. To a place stronger adventurers than them had lost their lives. It had been rare to find anything besides Vale wolves and Stonetusk boars this close to the city¡ªmonsters that rarely grew stronger than Bronze¡ªbut as of late, even Silver-ranked adventurers kept their guard up. The Crimson Grove was strong for their level. Each one of them was a capable and skilled fighter. Yet they were still in Iron, meaning none of them had an Aura. And without one, the dangers posed by the Wilds were not something to scoff at.
Level: 15
Body: Iron V [15 Levels]
Core: N/A
Level: 13
Body: Iron IV [13 Levels]
Core: N/A
Level: 13
Body: Iron IV [13 Levels]
Core: N/A
Level: 11
Body: Iron III [11 Levels]
Core: N/A
Nemir stood at the front, his greatsword sheathed and hanging over his shoulders, a firm grip on the handle. He was the highest leveled among them, and from what Rowan knew, he was almost ready to advance. Annie stood slightly behind and on Nemir¡¯s right, guarding their front. She might have been the lowest level among them, yet that didn¡¯t make her weaker. Rowan had seen her fight, and the way she used her spear was nothing short of masterful. It was skills that made a warrior, not their level. Omi and Silvia trailed behind, keeping Rowan in the center and guarding their rear. Both of them had skills that heightened their perception, something that was vital for where they were heading. Rowan felt his excitement build as they finally entered the forest. A familiar focus settled over him like a comforting embrace, chasing away anything that might distract him from the task at hand. His Core was full, and his spells were ready. All he had to do was try to keep the thrill from overwhelming him. Out here, with danger lurking around every corner, was the only place Rowan felt at ease. It was simple. Monsters would try to kill him, and he would kill them in turn. This was no place for deep thoughts, no place for painful memories. Just him, his magic, and foes to slay. As they left the open plains behind, going past the looming edge of the treeline, the environment shifted. Towering trees stretched toward the sky, their thick, intertwined branches forming a natural barrier against the sunlight. The air grew heavier, cooler, carrying the earthy scent of damp soil and moss. A stark contrast to the open, sunlit plains they¡¯d just crossed. The Wilds seemed to pulse with life. The rustling of leaves and the distant calls of unseen creatures creating a constant, low hum. Unlike the gentle breeze that had followed them since they left the city, the wind here felt different¡ªstifled, as if the forest had swallowed it whole. As they stepped further in, Rowan glanced around at his companions, feeling the same tension they did. Shadows stretched in strange patterns across the forest floor, where roots twisted like serpents, half-buried in the undergrowth. This was no ordinary forest, a fact all of them knew. Here, nature ruled, and anyone who entered was merely a guest. Kai fluttered from branch to branch, keeping watch alongside Silvia and Omi. For the first ten minutes, nothing disturbed them. But that changed when his familiar let out a loud screech. Suddenly, Silva pointed her bow to the side, fully knocking her arrow. ¡°Vinesnakes!¡± she shouted, the string thrumming with energy as she activated [Quickshot]. The arrow flew through the air with alarming speed, impacting a nearby tree before Rowan even registered the twang of her bow. A loud hiss followed it, her arrow impaling a serpent that was wrapped around its trunk.
Level: 7
Body: Iron I [7 Levels]
Core: N/A
Its dark brown coloring had made it almost invisible, yet with three members of their team on the lookout, the snake never stood a chance. ¡°Form up and watch the canopy!¡± Nemir shouted, pulling out his greatsword with practiced ease. Rowan¡¯s heart beat like a war drum, the thrill of battle growing as more shapes made themselves known. The serpents slithered down the massive trees, moving faster than creatures of that size had any right to. The rest of the team moved into position. Their expressions were determined and composed, more than ready for the fight ahead. With the monster''s ambush foiled, there were only two options left open to them. They could either fight, or flee. And the denizens of the Wilds didn''t have a reputation for restraint. His pulse quickened as the serpents drew nearer. The rush of battle, the thrill of the fight wasn¡¯t something he could resist. And in the end, he didn¡¯t want to. This was where he thrived. Out here, in the Wilds, everything made sense. The chaos quieted the perpetual storm brewing in his mind. A [Firebolt] burst from his fingertips almost unconsciously, and a serpent crumpled, its body writhing as flames engulfed its head. A grin tugged at his lips. This was what he needed. An outlet. Control. For the moment, he could let go of the pain gnawing at him and lose himself in the fight. But Annie¡¯s sharp voice cut through his reverie like a slap. ¡°No!¡± she barked, her tone firm. ¡°Stop wasting mana. We¡¯re after goblins, not garden pests.¡± Her command should have grounded him, but instead, a knot of frustration twisted in his chest. They were deep in the Wilds, surrounded by enemies, and she wanted him to stop? Rowan clenched his fists as mana moved through his channels, another spell already forming. But just as quickly as it came, he shoved it down, trying to push away the fog clouding his mind. He knew she was right. These monsters weren¡¯t threats, they were distractions. Yet it didn¡¯t make his choice any easier. His fists clenched, he watched as the others dealt with the threat. ¡°Incoming!¡± Nemir shouted. With a roar, he raised his sword high in the air, cleaving a serpent in half as it lunged at him. Silvia followed it up with an arrow through another¡¯s eye, while Omi became a whirlwind of steel and blood. His daggers flashed as he tore through their numbers, severing heads and piercing through their scales with pinpoint precision¡ªeach strike lethal. They didn¡¯t need him. Not for this. Rowan¡¯s gaze flickered towards the writhing bodies of the dead serpents, his hand twitching. He could do so much more¡ªhe could end this fight in seconds, decimate these monsters with a few well-placed spells. The weight of his own mana felt like a storm just waiting to be unleashed. A beast he had to keep chained. ¡°Behind!¡± Silvia shouted. Rowan whirled around just in time to see a massive snake slither out of the underbrush, at least four times the length and twice as thick as all the rest.
Level: 15
Body: Iron V [15 Levels]
Core: N/A
His heart leapt at the sight, his finger itching to weave the next spell. Rowan caught Annie¡¯s eye, silently asking for permission. Just let me¡ª But she shook her head, nodding towards Nemir. ¡°Hold off the big one!¡± she commanded, stabbing a monster through the skull and pinning it to the ground. ¡°We¡¯ll deal with the others and take it out together.¡± Nemir didn¡¯t waste any time, disengaging and moving towards what had to be the matriarch of the nest. Rowan forced himself to step back, mana still moving through his channels. This wasn¡¯t the Plateau. This wasn¡¯t just him and the beasts. These were his friends¡ªpeople who counted on him, trusted him with their lives. And the last thing they needed was a reckless mage trying to prove his worth. He exhaled slowly, his muscles still tense but his thoughts clearer. Rowan let the excitement ebb away, leaving behind only a calm focus. That focus proved immediately useful. From up above, he heard a branch snap, followed by a loud caw. His gaze snapped upwards just in time to see three shapes falling straight towards them. One was thrown to the side when a black blur barreled into it. Another was shot out of the air by a well-timed arrow from Silvia. That left only one. The one directly over Rowan. Chapter 4 - Through The Wilds Rowan¡¯s body reacted before his mind fully processed the situation. The magic circuit for [Burning Whip] flared to life and a tendril of flame lashed out, coiling around the descending serpent. Its scales sizzled and cracked as the whip dug deep, drawing a sharp, agonized hiss from the beast. Its body writhed in the air, but Rowan didn¡¯t flinch. He tightened the fiery grip, aiming to kill it before it even hit the ground. With a wet crunch, the creature¡¯s body ruptured, spraying blood and viscera across the battlefield. Followed by the familiar stench of charred flesh, thick and pungent. He remembered the first time he¡¯d killed with his magic¡ªhow his stomach had churned at the sight, how his eyes had watered from the smell. Now though, it felt almost comforting. There was control in it. Control Rowan craved. Two more creatures fell. Silvia¡¯s arrow struck one with pinpoint precision, while the other was torn apart by Kai¡¯s razor-sharp talons. His familiar a black blur as he shredded the monster. The last body slammed into the ground, but Rowan¡¯s focus was already elsewhere. His gaze found Annie, who danced around the matriarch with deadly grace. Each strike of her spear was deliberate, thought out, each thrust and slash tearing into the serpent''s flesh. It was a fluid, brutal display that reminded Rowan exactly why he trusted her¡ªand the Crimson Grove. For a moment, Rowan paused. The rest of the team was tearing through what remained of their opponents with ease. Nemir and Omi formed a wall at the front, while Silvia continued to rain death from range, each arrow finding its mark. Their attacks were precise, ruthless, and efficient. His [Burning Whip] still crackled with energy, half its mana remaining. It would have been a waste to dismiss it, so instead, he spun on his heel and dashed towards Annie. He caught her eye as she circled the matriarch. She nodded, understanding his unspoken intent. Grinning, Rowan darted in the opposite direction, forcing the creature to divide its attention as he allowed the thrill to run through his veins once more. His eyes narrowed, his heartbeat quickened, and in that moment, the rest of the world faded away. Taking with it all of his unnecessary thoughts. Leaving behind only the feeling of the mana burning through his channels and the desire to kill this monster threatening his team. ¡°Hold it down!¡± Annie shouted, ducking under the serpent¡¯s lashing tail. ¡°I¡¯ll go for the kill!¡± Rowan gave a sharp nod, a determined expression on his face. Annie lunged, her spear aimed for the serpent¡¯s eye, but the creature jerked its head back just in time. The weapon grazed its armored scales, leaving a deep scratch instead of the killing blow she¡¯d been hoping for. A snarl escaped her as she leaped back, evading the creature¡¯s snapping jaws. Rowan saw his chance. His fiery whip shot forward, coiling around the serpent''s head and yanking its jaw shut. ¡°Now!¡± he barked, feeling the mana in his spell draining rapidly. The monster thrashed wildly as flames licked at its skull, but Rowan held firm. Annie didn¡¯t waste any time. Her spear became a blur as she drove it through the serpent¡¯s eye, the tip piercing through its skull and deep into its brain. It convulsed once, then twice, and finally, it went limp. Dead. Rowan let his spell dissipate, the last of its mana burning out. He turned around, glancing towards the rest of the team as they finished off what remained of the nest. ¡°Well,¡± Omi muttered, putting a dying serpent out of its misery with a quick thrust of his daggers. ¡°That was a nice warmup.¡± Annie pulled out her spear, surveying the battlefield littered with bodies. ¡°More than a dozen of them, and a matriarch on top,¡± she grinned. ¡°Either we¡¯re the first ones to come across this nest, or we just finished another quest.¡± Nemir kneeled down next to a dead serpent, prying open its jaws and tearing out two of its fangs. ¡°With a matriarch in the mix, it¡¯s bound to be a handsome bounty,¡± he looked at the rest of them. ¡°Well? What are you waiting for?¡± he said, gesturing at the snakes. ¡°Get to it. We still have a goblin pack to hunt down.¡± ¡°You do that. I¡¯m gonna go gather my arrows,¡± Silvia chimed in, eyeing the mass of bodies with a shudder. ¡°Slowly. Very, very slowly.¡± With the battle over, the tension slowly drained from Rowan¡¯s body. His shoulders sagged as the adrenaline ebbed away. He sighed and walked toward Annie who was struggling to pry out one of the matriarch¡¯s massive fangs. ¡°Hey,¡± Rowan said, kneeling beside her and taking out his dagger to help. ¡°Sorry about that,¡± he winced, the words feeling awkward in his mouth. ¡°You were right. There was no need for me to get involved. I should have held back and let you deal with them.¡± Annie chuckled, patting his back, trying to not so subtly clean her bloody hands. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. I get it. You¡¯re used to having the biggest stick and you like waving it around,¡± she smirked. ¡°You¡¯re not the first mage I¡¯ve met.¡± Grunting, she finally tore the fang free and grinned at the trophy. ¡°Like mining for gold,¡± she muttered before standing and tossing the fang into her pack.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. She turned to Rowan, her expression softening. ¡°Look, I¡¯m not going to pry into what¡¯s got you so jumpy today. If you wanted to talk about it, you would¡¯ve told us. But out here, we¡¯re a team. We trust each other. Don¡¯t forget that.¡± She was right, and Rowan knew it. His desire to exert control was dangerous out here. They had an established pecking order, with Nemir leading the team and Annie calling the shots during fights. If he didn¡¯t want to get any of them killed with his recklessness, he needed to calm down. ¡°I know, I know,¡± he admitted, running a hand through his hair. ¡°Just got a bit excited, is all. Can¡¯t promise it won¡¯t happen again, but I¡¯ll try to keep it in check.¡± Annie rolled her eyes. ¡°Be as excited as you want, just don¡¯t be stupid,¡± she gestured at the decimated Vinesnakes. ¡°Most of these were high Bronze and low Iron. We all know that you¡¯d be able to smite them out of existence with a wave of your hand, you don¡¯t need to prove anything to us,¡± she said with a small smile. I¡¯m not proving myself to you, Rowan wanted to say, but the words got stuck in his throat. So instead, he just nodded. ¡°Alright, glad we sorted that out.¡± She smirked, nudging him with the butt of her spear. ¡°Now get to prying. These teeth aren¡¯t going to pull themselves.¡± That managed to get a small chuckle out of him, and he complied. She was right. There were teeth to pull and goblins to kill. And he wouldn¡¯t do either by standing around. . . . Adventuring was often glamorized, but in reality, it was mostly just walking. The Wilds spanned a massive area, with the human settlements occupying a very small portion of it. Navigating them was not a skill that was often talked about, but that didn¡¯t make it any less important. ¡°Where to next?¡± Silvia asked, smoothing out the fletchings of her arrows. Nemir pulled out his adventurers'' medallion, glancing at the small arrow at its center that pointed at the city¡¯s lodestone. After a moment of studying the makeshift compass, he pointed in a direction. ¡°That way. But we¡¯ve got at least another hour before we get there.¡± He tucked the medallion back into his shirt. ¡°Let¡¯s take a short break. Eat, drink, and then we head out.¡± The team nodded, taking out their rations and settling in. Summoning another beast pellet, Rowan fed it to Kai, scratching under his chin. ¡°Keep a watch out, okay?¡± With a happy trill, his familiar swallowed the treat and flew up, circling them from above. Nemir sat down on a fallen log, uncorking his waterskin. ¡°You know,¡± he began casually, wiping his mouth, ¡°the goblin pack might be bigger than we initially thought. It¡¯s been on the board for more than a week.¡± Omi looked up, snacking on a piece of tough looking meat. ¡°What does that mean? The pay¡¯s good. It seems weird that no one took it before us.¡± Nemir shrugged, taking another swig. ¡°Someone did. A Silver-rank by the name of Killian, the leader of the Steel Fist. A nasty group of adventurers if there ever was one,¡± he shook his head. ¡°They just didn¡¯t complete it.¡± Rowan furrowed his brows. ¡°A Silver-rank? Why would they leave it unfinished?¡± Silvia, who was sharpening one of her arrows, glanced over. ¡°Probably too lazy.¡± Nemir chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°I doubt that. Killian and his crew are capable, but word is they like to leave quests unfinished and then swoop in once someone else turns them in. Try and get a few extra coins for the trouble.¡± Annie groaned. ¡°Great. I¡¯m sure stealing a quest from a Silver-rank isn¡¯t going to bite us in the ass.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not stealing,¡± Nemir said calmly. ¡°The Adventurer¡¯s Guild has authority on quest giving, not individual teams.¡± While that was true, that authority didn¡¯t extend out into the Wilds. It wouldn¡¯t have been the first time that two teams had a dispute and one mysteriously vanished the next time they left the protection of the city¡¯s walls. Rowan frowned, processing the information. He hadn¡¯t heard of Killian before, or his team. Silver-ranks weren¡¯t common in Litwick, but that only meant there were dozens of them, not the hundreds or even thousands like in some of the bigger cities. Yet the thought of someone of that rank resorting to something so¡­ low, gnawed at him. Omi snorted, absentmindedly twirling his daggers. ¡°And we¡¯re just planning to let him take our hard earned gold?¡± Annie smirked. ¡°They can certainly try.¡± ¡°If things go sideways, we can just have Jamis blow him up,¡± Silvia piped in. ¡°You¡¯re awfully quick to throw me into a fight against a Silver-rank,¡± Rowan snorted. ¡°But I appreciate the vote of confidence.¡± ¡°What? I¡¯m just looking out for you,¡± she shrugged. ¡°Besides, it might do you some good. Let you blow off some steam.¡± Rowan tried to suppress a wince. It seemed Annie wasn¡¯t the only one who noticed he¡¯d been acting off. ¡°Nobody is blowing anyone up,¡± Nemir said, his expression serious. ¡°We all know something ugly is brewing. The city needs all the manpower it can get. Crooked adventures included,¡± he stood up, running a hand through his hair. ¡°This is the eighth goblin pack sighted in the last month. And if there¡¯s really a tribe nearby¡­¡± He trailed off, not needing to state the obvious. Goblins might seem like pests, and in small numbers, that was exactly what they were. But they were still among the few enlightened races. No one really compared them to humans or elves, and if a dwarf heard you suggesting anything similar, you¡¯d get an axe through the head. Yet underestimating them was never a good idea. ¡°It¡¯s still just rumors. But with the way the wind is blowing¡­¡± Annie sighed. ¡°Let¡¯s just focus on completing our mission and getting home alive,¡± she stood up. ¡°So enough sitting around, time to get moving.¡± The rest of the team followed suit, checking over their weapons one final time before continuing deeper into the Wilds. . . . Over the next hour, they sidestepped three Stalker burrows, a Razowing Hawk¡¯s nest, and a sleeping Moss Giant. The team was silent for the most part, with only the occasional comment pointing out potential threats. Kai proved useful on more than one occasion. But as the canopy grew thicker, it became dangerous to have him far away from the rest of them. So his familiar spent the rest of the walk on Silvia¡¯s shoulder. The landscape grew rougher as they pressed deeper into the forests¡ªjagged rocks jutting out of the ground, wild underbrush snagging at their clothes. Each step taking them further from civilization. Rowan forced himself to focus. His eyes roamed their surroundings, searching for any signs of danger, the air around them thick with anticipation. Nemir suddenly raised a hand, signaling for them to stop. They were just about to enter a clearing, a distant cave nestled between two rocky outcroppings. ¡°There,¡± he whispered, crouching behind a boulder. The rest of the team joined him, ducking behind cover as they observed the goblin den from a distance. The cave entrance was wide, with jagged rocks framing the opening like the jaws of some terrible beast. Four goblins were standing outside, the crude weapons and makeshift clothes a sharp contrast to their own gear. ¡°Anyone have a count?¡± Annie whispered, her eyes narrowing as she observed their goal. ¡°It¡¯s too dark,¡± Silvia replied, her [Eagle Sight] skill active. Omi unsheathed his daggers, his eyes glinting with anticipation. ¡°We¡¯ll need to take out the sentries before moving in.¡± ¡°Think you can manage it?¡± Rowan asked. They needed to move quickly and quietly if they wanted to avoid alerting the entire pack. Strike them before they realized what was going on. His fingers twitched, more than ready to start. Omi nodded. ¡°I can easily take two without making any noise. But they¡¯re spread out. Sil¡¯s going to need to help out.¡± Annie glanced at the group, unslinging her spear. ¡°Then that¡¯s what we¡¯ll do. We take out the sentries. No noise, no fuss. Once we¡¯re in, we stick together. Jamis and Sil at the back, the rest of us up front.¡± The team nodded, but Rowan hesitated. There was something wrong here. Something that made the hairs on his neck stand up. He focused on the cave entrance, taking it in, letting his mind soak in the details. The walls were too uniform. Too straight. Almost as if someone had¡­ Just as Omi was about to head out, Rowan¡¯s hand shot out, gripping his wrist. A smile tugged at his lips. One that was equal parts excited, and nervous. There was no way this cave formed naturally. But if that was true, that could mean only one thing. ¡°What?¡± Omi frowned, pulling his hand away. Rowan looked around at the rest of the team, his eagerness almost palpable as he whispered. ¡°There¡¯s a shaman in there.¡± Chapter 5 - Guards At The Post ¡°A shaman?¡± Annie frowned. ¡°Are you sure?¡± The rest of the Grove seemed taken aback, their eyes widening in alarm and hands tightening around their weapons. But Rowan didn¡¯t notice. His gaze stayed fixed on the cave, a flutter of exhilaration in his chest. ¡°Positive,¡± he nodded firmly. ¡°See those spikes near the entrance?¡± Annie squinted, trying to follow his gaze. ¡°Yeah? What about them? They just look like rocks to me.¡± Rowan¡¯s heartbeat quickened, and he shook his head. ¡°That¡¯s the idea¡ªthey¡¯re meant to look like that. But spikes like that don¡¯t form naturally,¡± he shot a glance at his team. ¡°And you can¡¯t exactly shape stone with a shovel.¡° ¡°Eldara¡¯s tits,¡± Omi cursed, his face darkening. ¡°What do we do now? Should we retreat?¡± Retreat? Now? Rowan blinked. Is he joking? He felt irritation flare in his chest, cutting through the thrill starting to course through his veins. ¡°Why would we do that?¡± His fingers twitched. ¡°These goblins won¡¯t just go away. Especially if they have a shaman leading them. In a week¡¯s time, there could be a dozen packs here.¡± This was what he¡¯d been craving¡ªa fight against a real opponent, something that could push him to the edge and beyond. Monsters were well and good, but dueling a mage was a different beast entirely. Nemir¡¯s voice broke through his thoughts. ¡°Because if you¡¯re right, this quest just got a hell of a lot more dangerous,¡± he said, his brows furrowed in thought. ¡°Not to mention lucrative,¡± Annie added. Rowan glanced at the group, taking in the way their expressions shifted between nervousness and resolve. He knew why they were cautious, and he understood it. He even respected it. For them, this was a risk. Without an Aura, fighting against a mage was tantamount to suicide with a few more steps thrown into the mix. But for Rowan, this was a necessary step forward. He needed to see what his magic could really do when pushed against something that could effectively fight back. Even if it meant taking a risk. ¡°I¡¯m confident I can take on anything inside that cave,¡± Rowan said, his voice steady. He tried to temper his tone, but his desire to fight edged his words. Omi snorted. ¡°With the way you¡¯ve been acting today, I¡¯d bet you¡¯d say the same thing if we ran into a dragon.¡± Rowan winced. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± he nodded, acknowledging the point. His eagerness to fight often got the better of him, but his confidence wasn¡¯t misplaced. Whatever was in that cave, Rowan knew he could take it. Taking a breath, he softened his approach. ¡°I¡¯m not just being cocky. If we can sneak inside, I¡¯ll be able to deal with most of them before the fight even starts.¡± ¡°And how exactly do you plan on doing that?¡± Annie asked, a hint of skepticism lacing her tone. ¡°We have no idea how many of them there are,¡± she pointed out. ¡°For all we know, there could be hundreds.¡± He shook his head. ¡°There aren¡¯t.¡± ¡°What, you see through walls now?¡± Rowan glanced over the boulder, pointing at the goblins guarding the entrance. ¡°No, I can¡¯t. But if there were hundreds of them, would they only have four scouts guarding their camp?¡± Nemir frowned, mulling it over. ¡°He¡¯s right,¡± he said after a moment. ¡°But you still haven¡¯t told us how you plan to deal with them.¡± Silvia snorted. ¡°Let me guess, you¡¯re gonna blow them up?¡± Rowan grinned. ¡°Exactly.¡± ¡°Not that I doubt your capabilities, but a [Firebolt] isn¡¯t anywhere near strong enough to take out more than a few of them,¡± Annie said, crossing her arms. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± he conceded. ¡°But a [Fireball] might.¡± A sharp silence followed his revelation. He could feel their gazes on him, a mix of shock and awe mingling with uncertainty. Rowan held his breath, feeling a strange nervousness envelop him. Annie broke it first. ¡°Since when can you cast a Chant?¡± she asked, her brows furrowed. The truth was, he couldn¡¯t. Not really. Rowan had memorized the magic circuit for [Fireball], and he had the mana to cast it half a dozen times over. But raw mana wasn¡¯t enough to master a spell. If it were, there¡¯d be Archmages in every village. He could always just lie. They weren¡¯t mages. They had no way of knowing the difference between a fully mastered spell and one he was still learning. His desire to test his limits almost made him consider it. Almost. As much as he wanted this fight, he wouldn¡¯t lie to them to get it. If they were going to do this, it would be as a team. He met their gazes and answered honestly. ¡°I can¡¯t. Not really.¡± Omi snorted. ¡°Then what are we even¡ª¡± Rowan held up a hand. ¡°I can still cast it. It just won¡¯t be as powerful as a full Chant,¡± he sighed, a flicker of frustration in his voice. ¡°My Intent is¡­ well, it¡¯s still a bit rough, and it takes me half a minute to finish the circuit. I won¡¯t be doing it in the middle of a fight, but¡­¡± he paused, looking each of them in the eye.¡± If we can get close enough without them noticing, and I manage to get a cast off, we¡¯ll start the fight with a huge advantage.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a lot of ifs and buts and maybes,¡± Omi muttered, but his expression was thoughtful. It wasn¡¯t a yes, but Rowan could work with that. He could see the gears turning in their heads. Annie¡¯s grip on her spear tightened, her jaw setting with determination. Nemir¡¯s frown deepened as he weighed the risks. Even Silvia, as relaxed as ever, shifted her weight, her expression thoughtful.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°It¡¯s a big risk,¡± Omi said after a moment, twirling his daggers absentmindedly. ¡°We don¡¯t know the layout, or their numbers. The smart move would be to go back to the Guild. Tell them to up the quest to Silver and have another team deal with it.¡± Nemir nodded slowly. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± he murmured. ¡°But who knows how big this threat will get by the time they send someone else to deal with it. We have a chance to nip it in the bud,¡± he glanced at the cavern in the distance. ¡°Let¡¯s put it to a vote.¡± Annie and Rowan¡¯s hands shot up without hesitation, soon joined by Silvia¡¯s. Nemir raised his a moment later, and Rowan felt the thrill building again, his heart pounding as his gaze moved to Omi. Rowan could almost see the flicker of hesitation in the rogue¡¯s eye¡ªnot fear, he knew, but caution. After a long moment, Omi sighed. ¡°Alright, alright. I¡¯m not gonna be the reason we head back,¡± he grumbled. ¡°Let¡¯s go kill some goblins.¡± Rowan¡¯s grin widened, the thrill of the upcoming battle finding purchase once more. . . . Omi crept through the underbrush, his eyes locked on the foes ahead. The four goblins were oblivious to his presence, his [Silent Step] skill combining with [Shadow Veil] to create a haze their perceptions couldn¡¯t cut through. This is going to be a shitshow. Jamis had always been a bit of a wild card. And in a sense, Omi understood why that was. Being capable of smiting your enemies from existence while standing on the other side of the battlefield had a way of going to your head. It was the same problem Sil had, only magnified tenfold. It was why they were willing to take stupid risks like this one. They wouldn¡¯t be the ones at the front, holding off a horde of goblins. Seeing their wrinkled skin up close, smelling their rancid scent, feeling the swords whistling by their ears. Not that Omi minded all that much. It was a heady feeling, being in the thick of it. But he wouldn¡¯t tell them that. If the others knew how much he actually enjoyed it, he wouldn¡¯t be able to complain nearly as much. As he moved closer to the cave entrance, hugging the stone walls to remain unseen, he quickly scanned the goblins guarding it.
Level: 5
Body: Bronze V
Core: N/A
Level: 4
Body: Bronze IV
Core: N/A
Level: 4
Body: Bronze IV
Core: N/A
Level: 3
Body: Bronze III
Core: N/A
Their levels smoothed out some of the concern he felt about the upcoming fight. He knew that if there was a shaman in there, their opponents wouldn¡¯t just be fodder. But these four right here were nothing more than lambs waiting for the slaughter. As he got close enough to hear them talking to each other in that guttural tongue of theirs, Omi pulled up his status, trying to decide how to go about this. For Jamis¡¯s plan to work, he needed to take them out in one fell swoop. Before they could so much as utter a single word.
Name: Omitar Kalis
Body: Iron IV [13 Levels]
Core: N/A
Level: 13
Strength: 19
Dexterity: 35
Vitality: 26
Intelligence: 2
Willpower: 1
Focus: 13
The two Intelligence was always an eyesore, but it had nothing to do with how smart he actually was. On the bright side, it was one higher than Sil¡¯s, so he took it as a win.
Skills: Dagger Mastery [Proficient], Quick Hands [Proficient], Silent Steps [Adept], Shadow Veil [Adept], Vital Strike [Adept], Quick Reflexes [Adept], Acrobatics [Adept], Sense Danger [Novice]
His [Sense Danger] stayed quiet as he took out his daggers, watching the unassuming goblins as they lazily observed the treeline. The blades, made of darkened steel, absorbed the sunlight that threatened to reveal his position. They were by far the most expensive thing he¡¯d ever owned, but they were more than worth the price. Taking a deep breath, Omi stilled his nerves and moved. Both [Silent Steps] and [Shadow Veil] dropped as he made use of every single point of dexterity he had. His body was a blur as he struck one goblin through the back of the neck, severing his spine. The one next to it started turning its head. But before it could, Omi was already there, his second dagger buried in its skull. He stood there among two corpses as they fell to the ground, his eyes focused on the last two goblins guarding the entrance. They were on the other side of it, too far away for him to get there before they raised an alarm. But Omi didn¡¯t panic. He wasn¡¯t alone here. As their beady eyes found him, their mouths opening¡ªreadying to alert whoever was inside¡ªtwo arrows flew from the tree line. The first hit one through its open mouth, pinning the monster against the wall. The force behind the shot enough to embed the arrows into the stone. It let out a wet gurgle as its body shook, its clawed hands grasping the shaft in a desperate attempt to free itself. The other was slightly off its mark, but it still did its job. The arrow pierced through the goblin''s throat, crushing its windpipe and smothering the scream that threatened to end their quest before it even began. The fight¡ªif one could even call it that¡ªlasted barely two seconds. Omi flicked his wrists, the blood that covered his daggers splattering against the ground. He sheathed them, waiting for the other to move out of cover. Nemir exited first. The mountain of a man all muscle and righteousness, carrying that hulking greatsword of his. Annie followed after him, with Jamis and Silvia taking the rear. As they got close, he felt his excitement slowly overtake his caution. This was happening. They were going into this cave and decimating whatever pest called it their home. Omi¡¯s gaze drifted to Jamis. The mage stood slightly apart, a noticeable tension in his stance, his fingers tapping absently as if tracing some unseen spell. Jamis was a mystery, in more ways than one. He was faster than he had any right to be. Omi had seen the way he moved during fights, and if had to venture a guess, his Dexterity wasn¡¯t much lower than his own. Something that shouldn¡¯t have been possible with him being a mage and half his level. But it didn¡¯t stop there. He¡¯d seen his hunger for advancement firsthand. The way he threw himself into every battle with a fury that only came when something pushed you towards it. So why is he still just a Red-Core mage? From what little Omi knew of magic¡ªwith most of his knowledge coming from the stories his mother had read to him when he was a kid¡ªadvancing a Core to Orange was just a matter of time spent working towards it. Yellow was the true bottleneck. It was the stage where a mage needed to combine his two tier-one affinities into a single tier-two. Jamis was around his age. Twenty or so. So even if he¡¯d Awakened later than most¡ªat fourteen, or even fifteen¡ªthat still gave him five years to advance. And the fact he hadn¡¯t was¡­ curious, to say the least. It wasn¡¯t that Omi didn¡¯t trust him, because he did. Jamis had saved their asses more than once. But that didn¡¯t mean he wasn¡¯t curious. The mage carried himself¡­ well, like a mage. Not like the hunters, adventurers, and the scrappy underdogs of a backwater settlement. It was clear that wherever he¡¯d come from, it hadn¡¯t been a place like Litwick. No, his poise, the way he expected things to fall into place for him, it spoke of places with towers. Where nobles wore their power like finely tailored cloaks. Why was someone like him out here, in the middle of nowhere, running around with a ragtag group through a cave full of goblins? Jamis hadn¡¯t shared much about his past¡ªnever really talked about his family, his time before this, or how he¡¯d ended up here. Even after their missions, when they were a few cups in and relaxed, he seemed reluctant to actually open up. Omi was certain there was a story there. But it wasn¡¯t one he was going to pry at. He shuddered. That¡¯s how you get your skin melted off.. Jamis could keep his secrets. At least until he decided to share them. As the team got closer, Omi pushed those thoughts away. Now wasn¡¯t the time to chase ghosts. There was a den of goblins to deal with, and right now, he was glad to have someone like him on their side. Chapter 6 - Down Under The chittering of goblins reached their ears as they entered the cave. That guttural language of theirs echoing against the cavern walls. Omi took the front, his skills best suited for infiltration and stealth. ¡°This cave is bigger than I thought it¡¯d be,¡± he whispered, looking around at the wide corridor as they traveled through them. ¡°It¡¯s how they hide,¡± Rowan answered, keeping his voice quiet. ¡°Goblins aren¡¯t the strongest, or the fastest, or the smartest monsters around. But they¡¯re among the few that have actual casters. So when a pack has a shaman, they make use of him.¡± ¡°Stop yammering, you two,¡± Annie chastised them, firmly gripping her spear. ¡°If they hear us, that brilliant plan of yours goes straight out the window.¡± Kai let out a soft, admonishing trill, holding onto Sil¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Traitor,¡± Rowan muttered under his breath. They continued deeper into the cave, the light from the entrance slowly being replaced by the soft blue glow of the mushrooms growing on the walls. It was eerie, in a strange sort of way. Knowing that with every step they took, they were heading away from the relative safety of the open air, exchanging it for the uncertainty of the underground. But it wasn¡¯t like they had a choice. Waiting for the goblins to leave their dwelling wasn¡¯t something they could do. Taking them out one by one sounded good, but spending the night in the Wilds just might have been more dangerous than whatever lay further in. Omi suddenly halted his steps, raising a hand. ¡°Two guards, both Iron I,¡± he whispered. Rowan tried to glance over Nemir¡¯s shoulders, but the mountain of a man blocked his view. His heart started beating faster, his finger twitching, eager to cast. But he forced the excitement down. Fire magic wasn¡¯t exactly subtle¡ªespecially in a dark cave¡ªand they needed the element of surprise for the plan to work. Not really much of a plan, Rowan thought. ¡®Get close and blow them up¡¯ is as simple as it gets. But it¡¯s effective, so why try and fix it? ¡°Can you take both of them out quietly?¡± Annie asked, narrowing her eyes in an attempt to see through the darkness. Rowan didn¡¯t hear Omi¡¯s reply, but a few short seconds later, he heard two stifled gasps in quick succession, followed by the telltale sound of bodies hitting the ground. Guess that answers that. They continued further in, keeping their steps quiet and weapons ready. Less than a minute of walking later, they reached a small cavern with three branches to choose from. ¡°What now?¡± Omi muttered. Rowan stepped to the front, kneeling down and observing the ground. Trying to find any evidence of movement. He found what he was looking for in front of all three, and he couldn¡¯t help but smile. ¡°Well, that makes things easy,¡± he said after a moment. ¡°I don¡¯t think it matters which one we choose. If I¡¯m right, all three are going to lead to a central chamber. But we should try to figure out which path they use the least.¡± Silvia took it from there, her eyes sweeping over the cavern floor, focused and intense. It took her a minute, the dim lighting making the task harder than it normally would have been. But like everyone else in the team, Sil was skilled at what she did. She nodded to herself. ¡°The one to the right.¡± No one questioned it, and before they knew it, the chittering of goblins once again reached their ears. Only this time, it wasn¡¯t just two of them, but a whole pack. Rowan''s hands clenched at his side, his shoulders tensing in anticipation. This was it. The moment of truth. If no one saw them in the next minute, they had a real shot at finishing the quest with ease. There was still the shaman to deal with, but that was a problem for after he fireballed half the pack out of existence. Slowly, carefully, the team reached the end of the cave, and the sight that greeted them wasn¡¯t encouraging. ¡°Eldric¡¯s grace,¡± Nemir whispered, his grip instinctually tightening around the hilt of his sword. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ a lot of goblins.¡± The cavern was massive. Larger than the Guild Hall by half. Stretching out before them and sprawling far wider than they¡¯d anticipated. Flickering firelight from scattered pits cast wandering shadows on the walls, revealing a grim, makeshift settlement. Dozens of goblins milled around in a chaotic swarm, their rusted weapons and threadbare armor clinking as they moved between the ragged tents and smoldering cook fires. From just a glance, Rowan saw at least four or five dozen. Clustered in groups around the fires. Perfect.
Level: 9
Body: Iron II [9 Levels]
Core: N/A
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Level: 11
Body: Iron III [11 Levels]
Core: N/A
Level: 13
Body: Iron IV [13 Levels]
Core: N/A
Level: 7
Body: Iron I [7 Levels]
Core: N/A
Most of them were low Iron, but there were more than a few at Iron IV or V. Rowan took a moment to observe before pulling back behind cover. He¡¯d seen what he needed to. The air was thick with the acrid scent of poorly cured hides, charred meat, and damp earth, a nauseating blend that seemed to hang in the air like a haze. Ramshackle huts made of twisted branches, stretched leathers, and scraps scavenged from who-knows-where dotted the cavern floor, forming a crude goblin village. The tents were squat and narrow, haphazardly clustered together. To the left of the main encampment, Rowan spotted a larger, well-kept dwelling that set itself apart from the others. Unlike the rest, it wasn¡¯t hastily patched together but was adorned with bones and painted symbols that announced their tribe. Rowan had spent a large amount of his youth neck deep in books. His tutors had been some of the greatest scholars the Kingdom of Vandral had to offer, and they had made sure he¡¯d be ready for his Awakening. What a waste of time that must have seemed, he thought ruefully. When he failed to Awaken, that knowledge had seemed so worthless. What use would knowing the various goblins tribes have for him? Or knowing how to track a monster through a forest? But now, Rowan was grateful for every minute they spent with him. Not that it would have been hard to guess, he thought, glancing at the tent. The crest was a fang painted in with blood. And so, with the originality of a newborn moss-fly, the tribe called themselves the Red Fangs. From what Rowan knew, they were a mid-sized tribe originating from the Spiral Range. A series of mountain peaks connected by wind-currents. They weren¡¯t a large-scale threat in the grand scheme of things, but if they were settling here, it might prove dangerous for a city as small as Litwick. That¡¯s two regions over, Rowan frowned. Their migration must have started months ago. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. Focus. That information isn¡¯t going to be useful if we die. Rowan tapped Nemir on the shoulder, gesturing for him to stand in front. The man was as wide as a barn door, so he was perfect for the job. Annie¡¯s hand found his shoulder, squeezing it firmly. ¡°Ready when you are,¡± she whispered, her gaze intent as she took in the threat before them. ¡°And knock that smile off your face. It¡¯s creepy,¡± she muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible, but he could hear the thrill in her tone. The same one Rowan felt. He barely suppressed a grin. ¡°Alright, give me half a minute.¡± He stood back, moving slightly away from the entrance. Standing in the open and casting would have been like lighting a beacon, the dim lighting of the cavern the perfect backdrop to announce their presence. Which would have definitely looked good, but visuals weren¡¯t what they were going for. The rest of the Grove positioned themselves in front of him, already knowing what he needed from them. It was in moments like these that he found himself grateful that he found a team as capable as this. And it was especially gratifying when facing a threat as large as this. During his quick glance at the village, Rowan had paid special attention to how the goblins were grouped up. But they were walking around, changing positions. He wouldn¡¯t have a lot of time to choose his target, which was incredibly important given the spell he was going to cast. Hopefully, some of them are still in the same place. The team exchanged looks, silent but tense. Rowan¡¯s fingers itched with anticipation as he closed his eyes. His mind raced, ready to get this fight started. Nemir¡¯s grip tightened on his sword, his eyes flickering between the masses beyond the entrance and the quiet, shadowed path behind them. ¡°When you¡¯re ready, Jamis.¡± Rowan nodded, focusing on his Core. Feeling the mana churning within it. Chant-level spells were a massive jump in complexity compared to Murmur¡¯s. Not only was the circuit much longer, but he needed to manipulate multiple strands of mana at the same time. No point in delaying. He started casting. Mana erupted from his Core, hot and unwieldy. Rowan clamped his Will around it and sent it swirling through his channels. Following along a familiar path. One strand circled around the left side of his chest, heading down his arm and back up again. While the other did the same, only on his right. The symmetry created a resonance that resulted in a shell forming in the palm of his hand. As it appeared, the darkness of the cave slowly receded, the soft red glow illuminating it like a bonfire. And that starts the countdown, Rowan thought, a determined expression on his face. Then, ever so slowly, the intensity started increasing. Rowan kept his focus on the two strands circulating throughout his body, and with a deep breath, he added another. It was straining, in more ways than one. The amount of mana he was manipulating was tremendous. Most mages spend years honing their skills before trying to master a Chant-level spell. It was a requirement to reach the rank of Acolyte in the Tower¡ªthe authority when it came to mage-craft in the kingdom¡ªwith the second being forming a tier-two affinity. Rowan wasn¡¯t anywhere close to advancing his Core to Peak Orange, let alone Yellow. But there was something to be said about raw talent. Something he had in abundance. The third strand started entering the shell. Filling it with destructive potential. Because that was exactly what mana was. Potential. Boundless and ready to be molded. If one knew how. Rowan waited until it filled the shell to the brim, the glow now intense enough to be seen even from around the bend of the cave. Panicked snarls and the clamoring of feet against dirt answered him. ¡°Alright, get ready!¡± Annie shouted, immediately taking charge now that they¡¯d been noticed. ¡°Sil, do your thing! We hold here until Jamis finishes his spell!¡± ¡°Let¡¯s hope that¡¯s soon,¡± she replied, the twang of her bowstring followed by a pained grunt announcing the start of the battle. ¡°Because I don¡¯t have nearly enough arrows for all of them.¡± Rowan refocused on the task at hand, pushing away everything else in favor of the rapidly forming [Fireball] in his hand. As more mana poured into the shell¡ªstraining against it, trying to expand beyond its means¡ªhe increased the speed at which the two threads circulated through his channels. Strengthening it. Giving it the power it needed to hold. Everything else faded away. Leaving nothing but the euphoria that came with doing something you were always meant to do, and doing it well. Magic was in Rowan¡¯s blood. His lineage was longer than most people knew, and each member of his family was a peerless spellcaster. He was the son of two Archmages, and the grandson of four more. Casting was his birthright, and he intended to make use of it. To him, magic felt like conducting an orchestra. Every movement, every adjustment, every single flick of his Will building up to something magnificent. All of the parts moving in perfect unison under his command. Rowan gritted his teeth, sweat dripping from his brow as he moved ever closer to that balance he was seeking. The strength of his shell contesting against the density of the mana inside it. When he finally reached it, the radiant orb of burning flame held in his hand teetering on the edge of combustion. Then came the hard part. Imbuing his Intent. With a deep, calming breath, Rowan got to work. ¡°They¡¯re halfway here!¡± Annie shouted, but he paid it no mind. Rowan focused on the raw, consuming force of fire and the disciplined control that kept it contained. It wasn¡¯t just the destructive aspect that made the spell work, but the gathering of power without allowing it to spill over¡ªa dance between chaos and order. He needed a single, cohesive sphere of flame. ¡°Balance,¡± he whispered, ¡°Sealed Flame.¡± His Intent burst to life. Giving the spell the last push it needed to manifest. It was crude, and needed more than a bit of work. But it did work. And right now, that was all that mattered. Rowan didn¡¯t waste any time. His eyes opened as he took a hasty step forward, moving around Nemir¡¯s bulky form. He might have been able to cast a Chant, but that didn¡¯t mean he could hold it for long. ¡°Get ready!¡± he shouted as he rounded the corner, coming face to face with four dozen angry goblins rushing towards them. Their rusty weapons and manic expressions, combined with their sheer number would have normally left him feeling fearful, hesitant¡ªbut with the power he held in the palm of his hand, the only emotion Rowan felt was glee. With a grin on his face, he flicked his wrist and sent the spell flying. Chapter 7 - The Wait As the thrill pumped through his veins at full force, Rowan decided on his target. Out of the four dozen goblins rushing towards them, the first three dozen were garbed in basic hides, their weapons an assortment of rusted daggers and sharpened bones. They were the most clustered, and for a moment, Rowan thought about sending the spell their way. It would result in the greatest number of deaths, but that wasn¡¯t the goal. The goal was to win. And to survive. Bronze-ranked monsters weren¡¯t going to be a problem for the Grove. They could kill them in droves. It was the real threats he needed to take out. Fights in the Wilds were mostly decided by who had the strongest person on the field. A team of Iron-ranked adventurers could decimate a horde of Bronze-ranked monsters. The leap in strength one got from advancing granting them a significant boost in power. So his gaze turned to the dozen or so in the back. Unlike the ones in the front, these goblins were less animalistic. Less feral. They stood on both feet with crude but deadly looking weapons in their hands. Swords and spears made of finely polished bone, with thinly wound sinew adorning their handles. Rowan raised his arm towards the group, releasing his spell. The orb of flame erupted from his hand, searing through the air with frightening speed, taking a tenth of his mana along with it. It was a magnificent working of magic. The shell contained a massive amount of mana in an orb small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. The goblins snarled in panic. Frantically throwing themselves out of the way, trying to dodge. It sailed over the first group, leaving them confused, and for the moment, defenseless. Annie surged forward, her spear a blur as she beheaded the closest one. The rest of the Grove wasn¡¯t far behind, Nemir and Omi joining the fight alongside her. With a [Roar], the swordsman carved through another three goblins. Strangled screams and the smell of guts wafting through the air. Omi took out another two with practiced ease, his daggers barely visible in the low light. The [Fireball] finally reached its target, a grouping of Iron-ranked goblins. Rowan was surprised with how far they managed to disperse, but it wasn¡¯t going to do them much good. ¡°Eyes!¡± Rowan shouted, looking away as his spell impacted the ground. The team took a coordinated step back, shielding their eyes from the massive explosion that rocked the cavern. A blast of fire large enough to engulf a house wiped out a good chunk of them in the initial blast, the rest being scorched by the heat. Rowan tried to steady his shaking hands, the sheer scope of his working mesmerizing. When he looked back, he could see the team glancing at him with startled expressions. For a moment, Omi almost looked frightened, but then that familiar grin split his face. ¡°Morrigan take me,¡± Nemir muttered, a determined gleam in his eye. ¡°I¡¯m glad it wasn¡¯t just a boast,¡± he laughed, already moving again. His sword carving through another grouping of goblins. The monsters snarled in rage and indignation. Someone had attacked their pack, and they weren''t going to take that lying down. They ran on all fours, their clawed appendages digging into the hard earth with ease. One leaped at Omi, his daggers managing to deflect the first two strikes, but the third one aimed at his leg almost managed to land. Annie¡¯s spear took it through the throat, keeping the pressure off the rogue long enough for him to dodge his way to the edge of the battle, away from the group. The dim light of the cavern a perfect backdrop for his talents. Kai swooped down to rake his claws across a goblin''s throat, Sil¡¯s arrow piercing it a moment later. ¡°Sorry!¡± she shouted, already aiming at another one. His familiar trilled, flying back up. ¡°Yeah, yeah, you can count it!¡± she shouted back, turning her bow sideways and firing three arrows simultaneously, each one finding its mark. Rowan noticed he couldn¡¯t find Omi and he got ready, knowing he¡¯d need to move soon. The rogue had slipped out of sight. That meant his skills were active. He would work his way in, dividing their opponents'' attention long enough for the main group to rush at their back. It was a simple tactic, and it wouldn¡¯t have worked against smarter opponents. But these goblins were little more than animals. When he reappeared, shredding through their numbers with furious intensity, the whole group turned as one. Their instincts sensing a greater threat. The Iron-ranks wouldn¡¯t have done that, but that was why Rowan had taken them out at the start. Nemir, Annie, and Silvia activated their own skills. The two dozen or so goblins left were quickly dealt with. A flurry of powerful swings, quick thrusts, and precise shots decimating their numbers.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Rowan didn¡¯t move, looking away from the carnage and further into the camp. He wanted nothing more than to start throwing spell after spell at their foes, but he had another task. His muscles were coiled tightly in anticipation, ready, and more than willing to move. There was a shaman here, he was sure of that, and he needed to take it out sooner rather than later. He¡¯d been taught never to underestimate an enemy, and right now that meant assuming that the opposing mage was capable of casting something on the level of a [Fireball]. Rowan¡¯s eyes locked on the largest tent in the makeshift village, his body snapping into motion. The fight hadn¡¯t been going on for long, but if he assumed his opponent was capable, he¡¯d started casting the moment he realized there was a threat. And if he could truly cast a Chant-level spell, then right now was the most dangerous part of the fight. The magic circuit for [Burning Whip] flared to life, coursing through his channels and erupting out his back. Rowan didn¡¯t stop there, and another one soon joined it, with a third already on its way. He wasn¡¯t able to hold three manifestations for long, but he didn¡¯t need to. His Dexterity was twenty-five, and that wasn¡¯t just for show. Rowan reached the tent and cracked all three whips at the same time, shredding through the leather and leaving smoldering chunks in his wake. If the shaman was inside, Rowan had just ended the threat before it appeared. He grunted as the third whip dissipated, the strand of mana slipping out of his control. But his eyes were glued to the burning tent, watching for any signs of life. Come on¡­ Come on¡­ Show yourself. Rowan actually found himself hoping that something had survived. This was supposed to be his first duel against an actual caster, and it would be a shame if it ended like this. He¡¯d fought plenty of monsters with access to some kind of magic, but that was different. He wanted to try his Intent against an actual practitioner of the magical arts. Spell against spell. He knew it was a selfish thought. But even still, Rowan found himself aching for a fight. To achieve his goals, he needed to grow strong. To master himself and perfect his craft. He pulled up his status, his eyes locked on the unearned title.
Name: Rowan Undomniel-Athlain
Title: [Duke of Eiseylth]
Trait: [Immortal Soul]
Core: Red [74%] [5 Levels]
Body: Bronze I [1 Level]
Level: 6
Strength: 14
Dexterity: 25
Vitality: 20
Intelligence: 30
Willpower: 22
Focus: 17
Most days, it hung heavy over his shoulders. It was an obligation. A duty he needed to perform. And he intended on seeing it through. But he wouldn¡¯t be able to do it while cowering. He needed this fight. It was dangerous, and reckless. But discarding safety was the price of walking down his path. So he stood there, every muscle in his body tensed in anticipation. Two tendrils of flame coiled around him, ready to defend against anything thrown his way. To have any chance of finding out the truth, he would need to fight stronger opponents than a mere goblin, no matter how smart. Two tier-four affinities weren¡¯t enough, he thought grimly. I¡¯m going to need something more. I don¡¯t get to be good. Anything less than being the best is a failure. It was the height of arrogance to even think that. There were mages capable of feats Rowan couldn¡¯t even begin to fathom. And he¡¯d seen more than a few up close. But he had something that no one else did. Two things in fact. One was the Vault. A repository for the accumulated wealth of his family. It had everything he would ever need¡ªor want¡ªto grow in strength. The other was his trait. And out of the two, it was more important by far. Rowan still didn¡¯t know exactly what it could do. Channeling mana usually came with a spiritual strain, something he didn¡¯t experience, so that was certainly a part of it. But it had to be more than that. The Soul was a grand concept, and for the System to call his Immortal had massive implications. Ones Rowan hadn¡¯t had the chance to properly look into, or the will to really think through. Figuring out the answer to that question was a priority, but as things stood, Rowan had no way of accomplishing that. Soul-magic was far beyond his capabilities. But he was putting in the effort to change that. Movement from the left caught his eye. Rowan cracked his whip towards it, impacting an earthen wall. One that hadn¡¯t been there a moment before. His grin widened, the thrill reaching a crescendo. A low grunt was all the answer he got, but it was more than enough. The shaman was there. And he was ready for him. Rowan swung his other whip towards the [Earthen Wall], trying to pierce through it, knowing he needed to stay on the offensive. He caught a glimpse of knotted staff and dust-stained robes, the ragged looking goblin visible for barely a second. Just long enough to scan him.
Level: 23
Body: Bronze III [3 Levels]
Core: Orange [20 Levels]
Rowan felt a flicker of hesitation flare to life. His steps faltered, even while the two tendrils battered against his opponent''s spell. Halfway through Orange, he winced. Not ideal. The ten extra levels certainly looked threatening, but Rowan didn¡¯t let that discourage him. This was good. In fact, it was great. The added stats meant his foe most likely had a larger mana pool, and regenerated it quicker. Which while beneficial, wasn¡¯t the deciding factor when it came to mage duels. Skills and mastery were what decided who won. Something Rowan had in abundance. As long as he hasn¡¯t got a tier-two affinity, I¡¯m golden. Higher tier mages were more dangerous simply because they had more time to hone their craft. To learn new spells and get acquainted with using them during a real battle. Rowan was fine when it came to the former, it was the latter that needed work. His [Burning Whip] started burrowing into the wall. Contesting against the shamans imbued Intent. It was proving harder than he¡¯d hoped, the inherent defensive properties of Earth managing to fight against the destructive ones of Fire. As the first one punched through, an angry snarl reached his ears. Rowan¡¯s eyes widened when he saw the wall bulged out. He immediately crouched down, protectively coiling a whip around his body. A [Rock Shot] exploded towards him, the shaman exchanging his defense for a surprise attack. It put Rowan on the back foot, but it opened the shaman up to a counter-attack. Something he was more than willing to exploit. His second [Burning Whip] dropped. Exchanged for a rapidly forming [Firebolt]. The circuit came to him with an instinctual familiarity. Blooming to life as he filled it with an Intent, giving it the push it needed to fully manifest. Piercing Flame. Rowan uncurled the whip just enough to gain line of sight. The shaman''s lip curled up into an ugly sneer, its sharp fangs gleaming in the dim light of the cavern. When mages fought, a single spell was enough to decide a winner. Every second mattered. Every exchange a dance where a misstep resulted in death. And both of them knew it. The failed [Rock Shot] didn¡¯t dissuade his opponent. His staff was already pointed at Rowan, a vortex of Wind swirling at the tip. Seeing that, the last of his hesitation subsided. If it had been Water, Rowan might have been in trouble. But Wind? Wind he could deal with. They both released their spells. The duel had officially started, and Rowan planned on mopping the floor with his opponent. Chapter 8 - Unexpected Showing Annie¡¯s grip tightened as she sent out a [Sweeping Strike]. Her spear blurred as the skill activated, cutting through a goblin''s arm and embedding itself into another''s side. She yanked her arms back. Blood and guts spilled from the monster, a death rattle leaving its throat. It tried to claw at the wound, hopelessly holding its innards in place before the light slowly faded from its eyes. Nemir cleaved through another pair, his massive greatsword bisecting their bodies. Omi was back with the team now. Exchanging his stealth for a brutal upfront assault. His hands moving so fast she could barely make them out. She fixed her gaze on what remained of the pack, the half dozen Iron-rank threats still trying to get their bearings from the explosion. Scorched and wounded. Annie still couldn¡¯t believe how powerful Jamis¡¯s spell had been. Just two more levels, she reminded herself. Then I ignite my own Core. Her grip tightened around the shaft of her spear, an excited glint in her eyes. It had been a risk to go for it so early in her path, but if that was the result, it seemed like the right choice.
Name: Anneliese Kiro
Body: Iron III [11 Levels]
Core: N/A
Level: 11
Strength: 12
Dexterity: 25
Vitality: 22
Intelligence: 7
Willpower: 3
Focus: 12
To ignite her Core, she needed both Intelligence and Willpower to be over ten. And while that didn¡¯t seem like a lot, those twenty stats made all the difference. Especially at a lower level. While people like Jamis had the distinct advantage of being born with both those attributes already past that threshold, others needed to work for it. It wasn¡¯t fair, but life rarely was. She glanced over in his direction for what had to have been the tenth time. He was fighting the shaman with an infuriating grin on his face, his steely gray eyes shining with a fierce intensity, most likely reveling in the fact he could finally let loose. Stones whistled through the air faster than she could follow, and his whips deflected them with what appeared to be barely any effort. The fight was a sight to behold, and she found herself distracted as she battled her own foes. They dealt with the Bronze-ranked monsters, and that only left the Iron-ranked goblins. The [Fireball] had left them scorched and bruised, but they were still more than capable of putting up a fight. Silvia shot an arrow at the closest one, and it deflected it with a grunted snarl. Its spear of hardened bone sending the arrow flying to the side. It tried to deflect the one that followed, but it couldn¡¯t quite manage it. The arrow took it in the shoulder, piercing through flesh and bone and exiting on the other side. The goblin shrieked in agony, dropping its weapon and clutching at the wound. Trying to hold its arm in place, blood pooling through its fingers. ¡°Let them come to us!¡± she shouted, stepping in rank next to Nemir. There wasn¡¯t a point in rushing. They just took out three dozen goblins, and taking a few seconds to breathe would do them some good. Omi appeared next to her, panting slightly and wiping blood from his brow. Wincing from the wound on his arm. ¡°You okay?¡± she asked, ready to pull out a potion. He waved her off. ¡°Yeah, yeah, I¡¯m fine. It¡¯s just a scratch. The fight¡¯s already over, anyway.¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be so sure,¡± Nemir muttered, gesturing towards the side where the cavern floor was coming alive as it battled against Jamis¡¯s flames. ¡°You really enjoy tempting fate, don¡¯t you?¡± Silvia said, poking Omi in the side. ¡°What happens if he loses, huh? Stop trying to be macho and drink the damn potion.¡± ¡°Nemir prays to Eldric. It evens out,¡± Omi grumbled. Annie snorted, handing the vial to the rogue. He gulped it down, the cut on his arm slowly knitting back together. ¡°If he does start to lose, do we¡­?¡± Silvia trailed off, looking unsure. ¡°No way,¡± Omi shook his head. ¡°We do not get close to that death trap. None of us have an Aura, and getting in the middle of a mage duel is suicide. Plain and simple.¡± ¡°He¡¯ll win,¡± Nemir said firmly, no doubt in his voice. ¡°Jamis fights like an apprentice war-mage. He¡¯s stronger than the shaman.¡± ¡°It¡¯s level twenty-three,¡± Sil added, pulling an arrow out of a goblins throat. ¡°That means more mana, and a second affinity,¡± she shook her head. ¡°Jamis is only level six. It seems like¡­ a lot.¡± Nemir nodded, bracing his sword and getting ready for the slowly approaching goblins. ¡°I know. But Jamis is more skilled. And despite his lower level, his mana pool is nothing to scoff at. You¡¯ve seen that first hand.¡± ¡°How¡¯s that even possible?¡± Silvia muttered, knocking an arrow. ¡°Easy. He¡¯s a noble,¡± Omi shrugged. ¡°You think?¡± Silvia frowned. ¡°Maybe he¡¯s one of those people that ignite their Cores naturally. Don¡¯t most mages advance by the time they¡¯re his age, especially if they have resources?¡± she asked, glancing at Nemir.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. ¡°They do,¡± he answered. ¡°Most of them Awaken at thirteen, and by fifteen they advance. At Jamis¡¯s age, some are already close to a second advancement.¡± ¡°Yeah, but it isn¡¯t like he doesn''t have resources,¡± Omi rolled his eyes. ¡°And besides, just look at him and tell me that man isn¡¯t a noble.¡± Annie followed along to the battle that still raged in the far corner of the cavern. A blazing shield flared to life above Jamis, defending against a falling spear of rock. His onyx black hair billowed as the wind picked up, his coat fluttering by his feet. "That coat is packed full of enchantments," Omi pointed out. ¡°Not to mention all the potions he chugs, his access to some highly regulated spell tomes, and the endless amount of gold he seems to have access to.¡± He wiped his daggers clean against a small cloth rag tucked into his belt. ¡°My guess is he¡¯s a fourth or fifth son of a noble house from another region. Maybe the reason he doesn''t talk about his family is because he can¡¯t,¡± he shrugged. ¡°From what I know, you¡¯re not supposed to do that if you¡¯re out getting life experience.¡± Nemir slapped on that awful poker face of his and looked away. ¡°Still doesn''t explain the age,¡± Annie said, pointing her spear forward. She¡¯d spent more than a few nights trying to figure out his story. But the black-haired bundle of mystery stayed exactly that, a mystery. Over the last few months, he¡¯d gone on two dozen quests with them. Along with more than a few late nights spent at the Hall. It was safe to say he was a part of the team, yet they didn¡¯t really know him. Annie agreed with Omi on one thing though. He was definitely a noble. But he wasn¡¯t out here getting life experience. The look he got when anyone got even close to the topic of family wasn¡¯t secrecy. It was sorrow, and rage, and righteous indignation. A strange brew that spoke of tragedy. What she did know was that he was talented, charming, smart, and a plethora of other different things. But he was also reckless. Prone to violence. Intense. Thankfully, the only time Annie saw those traits was in situations like this. When they were pointed well away from them and at a monstrous opponent. It was like he had two states of being. The calm adventurer, and the manic mage. Annie had noticed it during their fight against the Vinesnakes. The way his fingers had twitched, aching to cast. In the way his eyes had narrowed, a single-minded focus overtaking him. She wasn¡¯t a complete stranger to that feeling. The thrill had gripped her more than once, but it seems to perpetually hang around Jamis. Like it was just waiting to be set loose. Two more arrows took out another goblin, leaving only three. Their walk had slowed to a crawl, furiously glancing in the direction of shaman as if deciding what to do. They just watched the five of them take out their entire pack, it wasn¡¯t all that unexpected for them to be slightly hesitant. They might have been stronger than the lesser goblins, but the sight of so much carnage put them in fight or flight. It was just that flight meant having to deal with an angry shaman later. So they were having some trouble deciding what to do. ¡°Sil, pick them off. If they start running, we go after them,¡± Annie said, her focus narrowing down to ending this fight. Seeing another one of their number die, they decided that maybe dying later was better than definitely dying right now. They turned around and bolted while Annie and Omi rushed at their backs. Her spear took one in the back of the knee, followed by a quick kick to the neck, snapping its spine. Omi took out the other two in rapid succession. Cutting one¡¯s throat and piercing the other through the neck. The bodies hit the ground in a lifeless heap, and with that, the goblin pack was reduced to one. ¡°Now we wait,¡± Nemir said, positioning himself at the front, his massive greatsword held flat as a makeshift shield. ¡°Uhh, I wouldn¡¯t be so sure about that,¡± Silvia pointed out, gesturing at one of the three cave entrances. Something scraped against the ground, ominous thuds echoing from the darkness. Annie¡¯s stance firmed, pushing away the fatigue and the burning in her muscles. The fight wasn¡¯t over yet, and they couldn¡¯t afford to relax. A towering goblin stepped out of the shadows, a massive bone club held loosely in its grip. Annie could almost feel the tremors with each step it took. Its sickly green skin pulled taut over a frame of muscle. Scanning it revealed something she already knew.
Level: 18
Body: Silver I [18 Levels]
Core: N/A
¡°You just had to jinx us, didn¡¯t you?¡± Silvia muttered, glaring at Omi. ¡°How is this my fault? The big bastard was here from the start. Not like my words conjured him from the ether,¡± he snorted. ¡°If anything, it¡¯s Nemir¡¯s fault. He¡¯s the one who let the hand of fate choose this quest.¡± The burly swordsman rolled his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m a follower, not a priest. Nobody but us chose this quest.¡± ¡°Enough screwing around,¡± Annie said, taking a deep breath. With one final glance at the furious exchange of spells still taking place in the corner, she set her stance. Her gaze locked on the massive shape that was slowly gaining speed as it moved towards them. The hobgoblin let out a loud bellow, raising its club high into the air. That alone was a frightening enough sight, but the faint red haze coating its weapon was what really made Annie¡¯s heart race. Whether in fear or excitement, she wasn¡¯t sure. ¡°Keep your distance and focus on defense!¡± she shouted, getting into position. ¡°There¡¯s four of us and only one of him. We whittle him down, no heroics!¡± Her focus narrowed as a faint hum vibrated through her veins. The sound of her own heartbeat was loud in her ears, like a guiding rhythm correcting her movements. Fighting up a rank was a challenge, even for them. Having an Aura was a power boost that was hard to match. But just like for mages, levels didn¡¯t determine strength. Jamis was level six, and he was handily holding his own against an opponent almost four times his level. Annie might not have had a Core, and the twenty or so stats she¡¯d put into attempting to ignite it made her weaker than a Warrior of her level should be, but she balanced that out with skill. Or in a more literal sense, skills.
Skills: Spear Mastery [Proficient], Iron Wall [Proficient], Sweeping Strike [Proficient], Martial Resilience [Proficient], Deadly Precision [Adept], Piercing Thrust [Adept], Sense Danger [Novice]
Annie had spent her entire life training to be an adventurer. And now, under the tutelage of her aunt, she was finally thriving. Four Proficiency-rank skills, and two that were on the cusp of a breakthrough. All while only half-way through Iron. [Sense Danger] was the skill she chose after her last advancement. And even though she¡¯d only had it for a few days, seeing it at Novice was still an eyesore. Annie¡¯s plan was to have at least eight before she advanced to Silver. Not to mention igniting her Core. She would be a warrior her family could be proud of. A true Knight. Even with a Core she would never be a full-fledged mage. That just wasn¡¯t in the cards. She had neither the time, nor the dedication needed to pursue the magical arts. Spell tomes didn¡¯t grow on trees, and acquiring one had as much to do with having connections as it did with having gold. But that didn¡¯t mean she would leave that well of power untapped. Igniting her Core while still in Iron would make her Aura that much more powerful. She just had to live long enough to accomplish it. Silvia pulled her bow back as far as it could go, the string vibrating as she activated [Power Shot]. She released her skill. The arrow blurred through the air, heading straight towards the bull-rushing hobgoblin. It roared, swinging its club in a sideways sweep, obliterating the projectile with ease. ¡°Seven more shots!¡± Silvia called out, quickly trying again. Once again failing to breach through the hobgoblins defenses. Annie widened her stance, getting ready to dodge. This was their third time fighting a monster with an Aura. They knew the roles they needed to play in order to win. It was Nemir¡¯s job to hold its attention, while Omi and Annie assaulted its flanks. Forcing it to spread its attention. Silvia would hold off, waiting for a good shot. Just as the hobgoblin crossed the halfway point¡ªthe thrill now pumping freely through her veins¡ªa pained shout, followed by an enraged screech, interrupted her focus. Her gaze shot towards the source of the noise just in time to see Jamis flying through the air, his back impacting the cavern wall. He crumpled to the floor in a heap, and for a moment, Annie thought he was dead. She held her breath, the grip on her spear unnaturally tight. If he¡¯s dead, so are you, the thought came unbidden. Fighting the hobgoblin would be challenging enough. If they threw a caster into the mix, they were as good as dead. Come on, she grit her teeth. Get up! Grunting in effort, Jamis pushed himself up and cast a shield, barely managing to deflect a barrage of rocks the shaman sent his way. ¡°Annie, watch out!¡± Omi shouted, pulling her focus to their own fight. Her muscles tensed as she turned her head. Once again reminded that just because something was big, it didn¡¯t mean it was slow. A massive bone club fell towards her head, the red-haze covering it shining ominously in the dim light as she frantically threw herself to the side. The hobgoblin had reached them. And it wasn¡¯t wasting any time. Chapter 9 - Beatdown Rowan laughed in glee as he deflected another [Rock Shot]. The shaman was doing everything in its power to keep him away, trusting in the defensive properties of its affinity against Rowan¡¯s offensive ones. A [Burning Whip] perpetually hung around his shoulder, twisting and slashing through the air. Holding it active had become almost instinctual. The mark of a truly mastered spell. After this, I¡¯m going back to the Plateau, Rowan decided firmly. If I could do the same with [Fireball], this wouldn¡¯t have even been a fight. He could feel he was close. It would take him a single outing to the region. A few hours of holding a vent. There, he would be able to cast it repeatedly. Something he couldn¡¯t do in Litwick for a multitude of reasons. The shaman snarled something as it launched a [Wind Blast] at him. Rowan¡¯s whip cracked through the air, deflecting it away. In response, a [Firebolt] formed in his hand. Taking another chunk of his mana with it. He sent it flying towards his opponent just as the shaman formed another [Earthen Wall], taking the spell with ease. A spell''s Intent grew weaker the further away it was from the caster. So by the time Rowan¡¯s bolt reached the shaman, it had degraded enough for his opponent to deal with it. The same way he¡¯d done with the [Wind Blast]. If he wanted to win this, he either needed to get close and overpower it, or sneak in an attack through its defenses. He threw himself to the side as the ground beneath him started vibrating. A thin spear of tightly compacted earth whistled right by his ear, followed by a frustrated grunt from the shaman. Guess he had the same idea, Rowan thought, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. That was closer to death than he¡¯d come in a long time. Monsters rarely did tactics. They threw themselves at anything they perceived to be a threat with wild abandon. But once again, Rowan was reminded that he was fighting a caster. One more try. And if it doesn''t manage to hit, I¡¯m going in. Another [Firebolt] formed in his hand. Only this time, his whip curled around his arm, the tip wrapping around the spell. He wouldn¡¯t do much just throwing spells around with no regard. That would have been a waste of mana. Something Rowan really couldn¡¯t afford, seeing as he was already below half. Let¡¯s hope this works, he thought, extending the tendril overhead and cracking it in the shaman''s direction. The extra length gave his Intent less time to deteriorate, and the unexpected direction of his attack was exactly the type of surprise Rowan needed. Earth and Water affinity mages had the added benefit of their elements persisting after being cast. But on the flip side, it made them harder to move. Especially shield spells like the one his opponent was conjuring. His spell flew over the [Earthen Wall], descending on the goblin, its eyes wide in panic. But even in its panic, the shaman proved himself a skilled caster. It fractured the wall with a wave of its hand and sent the rocks flying into the air. The following explosion formed a small dust cloud, earth and rock showering the goblin. Rowan grinned. He might not have managed to hit the shaman, but he¡¯d done the second-best thing. Its shield was down, and Rowan didn¡¯t plan on giving his opponent time to cast it again. He blurred into motion, a second tendril of flame already erupting from his back. That trick wouldn¡¯t work twice, leaving only one path open to him. Rowan needed to get close. Gritting his teeth, he rushed across the cavern, his feet digging into the soft dirt with each frantic step. There was a reason he focused a significant portion of his stats towards Dexterity. He couldn¡¯t win every fight with overwhelming firepower. Winning required not getting hit, and being fast was the way to make that happen. As the dust settled, the shaman noticed his rapid approach and took an instinctual step back. Its lips pulled up into an ugly sneer, drool dripping from its serrated teeth. It cast an empowered [Gust] into the ground, throwing itself back, out of range of Rowan¡¯s whips. He growled in frustration, pulling his focus tighter, manifesting a third whip. This time, it came easier. The strain that followed an overexertion of his Focus was nowhere to be found. Three was still his limit, meaning there would be no other spells while he maintained them, but that was fine. With the thrill pushing him forward, he felt better than ever. This was what he lived for. Where his heart truly sang. On the edge, riding the thin line between advancement and death. The goblin landed on its feet. Pointing its gnarled staff at Rowan, it sent out a pair of [Wind Blast]¡¯s. He easily deflected them, his three active spells more than up to the challenge. But something was wrong. That move made no sense. Why would the shaman just waste its mana, knowing it wouldn¡¯t even slow Rowan down? Unless it was a feint. He noticed the eerie grin on its scarred face just as something massive impacted him in the chest. In his haste, Rowan had stepped over exactly where the shaman had been standing since the start of the fight. And it seemed like he¡¯d left a present. A pillar of rock as thick as a tree launched him back, his spells dissipating as he lost focus. Rowan hit the ground hard, the wind knocked from his lungs, struggling to breathe. His thoughts felt hazy, but a sharp hum emanating from the depths of his soul restitched his focus back together. The enchantments woven into his coat took the brunt of the damage. Preventing cracked ribs or any other substantial injury. It still wasn¡¯t pleasant, but Rowan could probably walk it off. Well, if he managed to survive what came next. Fear tried to grip him. It would take him a second to get a [Fire Shield] up. And if the shaman was already casting, it would be much too late. Rowan tried to push himself upward, hissing in pain from the pain in his arm. His vision cleared and he locked eyes with his opponent, seeing a rapidly swirling mass of earth condensing into a spear. It looked at him with a murderous, almost eager expression¡ªone that made Rowan¡¯s blood boil. He was staring death in the face, growling in defiance as he pulled mana from his rapidly depleting Core. This wasn¡¯t where he was going to die. In an insignificant region against an insignificant opponent. Even if it looked inevitable. Rowan was barely halfway through the cast when the shaman''s spell finished. A polished spear floated above its head, the tip pointed ominously towards him. Faster! he thought frantically, forcing his mana to move. Faster! An enraged squawk suddenly echoed through the cavern, and Rowan''s eyes widened. Just as the shaman was about to release its spell, a black blur dove from above. Kai¡¯s claws raked across its face a moment later, drawing a pained snarl from its throat. It wasn¡¯t enough to fully stop the spell, but Kai¡¯s intervention was enough to mess with its aim. Rowan grasped at the opportunity with both hands. Despite it not being fully finished, he cast his shield. It wouldn¡¯t have been strong enough to defend against a direct hit, yet against a glancing blow, it was more than up to the task. Instead of a sharp red, a soft orange flame covered his side. The shaman''s spear impacted his hastily erected defense and raked across it, gouging a furrow into it and dissipating his Intent in the process. But thankfully, his shield was enough to deflect it away.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. The spear slammed into the wall behind him, digging deep into the stone and shaking the cavern. Rowan forced himself to move. Pushing his sore body upright, trying to steady his stance. Another mistake like that one, and this fight would be over. His reserves were down to a quarter, meaning he only had one shot at landing a killing blow. Kai¡¯s reckless attack had bought him only seconds. Seconds Rowan intended to use. Things weren¡¯t looking good. He was further away from the shaman than when he¡¯d started, and he only had a few spells left in the tank. Yet that only seemed to intensify the pounding in his ears. His focus sharpened, like a hazy window being wiped clean. Steadying his breathing, he cast [Burning Whip] for a third time. There was only one thing that mattered to him right now, everything else fading away like mist. It wasn¡¯t finding out the truth about his family, or getting stronger. What mattered was getting close and choking the life out of this fucking goblin. With a low growl, Rowan jumped into action. . . . Nemir grunted as the hobgoblins'' club crashed against his sword. It was his job to hold its attention, and he planned on doing just that. He wasn¡¯t sure from what monster the bone came from, but judging by the size and weight, it hadn¡¯t been Iron. Its Aura only compounded that problem. [Bastion Guard] was one of his three proficient-level skills. Along with [Greatsword Mastery] and [Crescent Strike]. But even that was barely enough to deflect the monster''s attacks. It had been a while since he¡¯d fought something physically stronger than him.
Name: Nemir Al''Kalat
Title: 4th Heir (Count)
Body: Iron V [15 Levels]
Core: N/A
Level: 15
Strength: 60
Dexterity: 30
Vitality: 32
Intelligence: 2
Willpower: 2
Focus: 15
His stats were closer to someone at Silver II or III, but even though the hobgoblin was only at the first stage of the rank, Nemir found himself getting pushed back. The red haze that covered its weapon wasn¡¯t something he could deal with alone. An Aura of Might made everything it did more, its attacks simply stronger than his own. He focused intensely on observing the monster. If he wanted to hone his own, there was nothing better than fighting against it. He hadn''t wasted the last six months spent at Iron V. Each day, he was getting closer. Litwick had been an excellent choice for his proving. Especially if there was a monster surge. These were exactly the kinds of enemies he needed to fight in order to advance. He focused on the burn in his muscles, the way they moved in unison. This was his way of inflicting his Will onto the world, and if he wanted to advance to Silver, it was what he needed to master. Annie and Omi flanked the massive monster, inflicting quick, probing strikes on its tough hide. The attacks didn¡¯t manage to harm it, but what they did manage to do was distract it for long enough for Silvia to get a shot in. Her arrow blurred through the air. Embedding itself into the hobgoblin''s shoulder. It snarled in rage, swinging its weapon in a sweeping strike, its roar echoing through the cavern. Annie threw herself back with startling speed, and Nemir was about to follow, but he stopped himself at the last second. Omi had been right next to the monster when Silvia¡¯s arrow struck, and if Nemir moved out of the way, the attack would land on him. Gritting his teeth, he turned his body to the side and flattened his blade. Kneeling low in order to deflect the club upwards. Something stirred in his veins, barely a note, replacing his hesitation with eagerness. Danger is the price for progress made. A determined yell left his throat as the red haze made contact with his blade. It tried to overwhelm him. To push him down. To force him to give way. But how could this creature be Mightier than him? He¡¯d been training for this his whole life. From the moment he was barely big enough to hold a sword, it had been a Path he wanted to follow. Gods willing, he would never become Count, but he was still a member of his House. His duty was to become a warrior worthy of that name. And a creature that had spit dripping down its chin wouldn¡¯t bar him from that. The club impacted his blade like a ballista. It forced the flat side of his weapon to crash against his shoulder, just like he¡¯d hoped. Something broke and a sharp pain pierced through his focus, but he didn¡¯t care. Nemir knew it would be here waiting for him, and he¡¯d accepted it. Using the extra leverage, he pushed himself upwards, grunting in effort as the club sailed over his head. His move managed to disturb the hobgoblin¡¯s footing, just like he¡¯d hoped. Its eyes widened at the unexpected result, and for the first time since the fight had started, their opponent was on the back foot. It had expected easy prey, trusting in its Aura to be enough to overwhelm them. And while that would have been true for any one of them, they weren¡¯t fighting alone. Nemir¡¯s leg gave out and he fell to one knee. He hissed in pain, his shoulder most likely broken. Annie didn¡¯t waste the opportunity his injury brought them, lunging at the defenseless monster. Her spear burrowed into its side, piercing muscle and cracking bone. The hobgoblin howled in agony, twisting its body and trying to get away. She obliged him, thrusting her spear even further, pushing its body towards a pair of waiting daggers. The first stab landed in its lower back, tearing through muscle as Omi dug for its spine while the other severed a tendon by its knee, forcing the bulky monster to the ground. Its howl grew louder, but an arrow punching through its eye and into its brain quickly silenced the beast. The monster¡¯s body twitched, the grip on its club tightening for a moment before going lax. Omi cutting through its spine sped the process along, and it fell to the ground in a lifeless heap. Annie pulled her spear out with a sickly crunch, stabbing it into the back of the monster''s neck for good measure. She turned around, a wide grin on her face. ¡°Great fucking job.¡± Nemir winced as his blade clattered to the ground, gripping his wounded shoulder. The pain certainly wasn¡¯t pleasant, but he¡¯d dealt with worse. It was in moments like this that he was glad for [Pain Tolerance]. No matter how awful it was to train. ¡°I¡¯m counting that as my kill,¡± Omi said, his breathing heavy as he sheathed his daggers. ¡°As if,¡± Silvia snorted. ¡°If your aim was better, you might have actually hit your target. You gave it lower back pain, I scrambled its brains.¡± Nemir allowed himself a small smile, breathing out in relief. The exhilaration that came from winning against a fierce opponent was a heady feeling. One he didn¡¯t think he¡¯d ever get sick of. That last exchange was worth the broken bones. It felt like he was on the cusp of something. Like a thunderstorm waiting to break. Before, when trying to contest an Aura, Nemir felt like pushing against the wind. But for a moment, when their weapons had connected, there had been resistance. It was progress. A tangible step forward. I¡¯m almost there, he thought. One more fight like this. That¡¯s all I need. But that was for later. Right now, what he needed was a healing potion. Silvia was already walking towards him, pulling out a familiar red vial.
Name: Healing Potion
Grade: Uncommon
¡°Why is it every time we fight, it''s just you boys getting hurt?¡± ¡°Because Annie has a spear, and you spend your time flinging sticks from range,¡± Omi grumbled, dabbing at the shallow cut on his arm. ¡°Kind of hard to get injured if you never get close to the massive, bone-swinging monsters.¡± ¡°Still my kill.¡± She shrugged, handing Nemir the potion. Nemir nodded gratefully, chugging it down in one big gulp. The earthy taste was a familiar comfort, the viscous fluid flowing down his throat. It settled in his stomach, and as his body absorbed it, a sharp relief settled over him. The pain ebbed away as the potion did its work, knitting his tendons back together and repairing his shattered bones. It would be a week before he could drink one again, but finding rare or higher grade potions wasn¡¯t possible in Litwick. Despite its lack of resources, the city had proven an excellent location for his proving. Especially if there was a monster surge coming. This pack was proof that a tribe was settling in the area. Nemir had seen the red fang sigil on the tent, meaning there would be more than enough enemies to hone himself against in the upcoming weeks, and months. He tried not to think about the broader implications. There had been monster surges before, and there would be more in the future. It wasn¡¯t his job to deal with that. His father was an Ebony-ranked warrior, with his brothers and sisters not far behind. As much as he would like to be by their side, to be home¡ªprotecting Ba¡¯alat from the threats it faced. They didn''t need him there. The thought didn¡¯t evoke the same sense of frustration as it did when he left. Here, he could battle against opponents at the right level of strength. And hobgoblins were the perfect whetstone to sharpen himself against. At home, leaving the city walls without an appropriate escort would have been a death sentence. Gold-rank threats and higher were the norm. And against a single opponent like that, Nemir wouldn¡¯t have had the chance to hone his skills. Dying gruesomely would have prevented it. Still, he hoped the surge wouldn¡¯t be too bad. Even if all the signs were pointing to the opposite. Trouble at the Walls always led to hardships for the entire kingdom. As stronger monsters moved past them and settled new territory, they pushed out everything else and created a chain reaction. Trouble, right, he shook his head. That¡¯s one way of putting it. It was almost unfathomable to think that House Athlain fell. They had been the stewards of the North for generations. Guarding against the strongest threats this kingdom faced. When he was little, he¡¯d heard stories about the Archamages of Dawn and Dusk. They were legendary figures, renowned for the might of their spells and the weight of their deeds. For them to fall to an Archdemon, summoned into the heart of their power, that spoke ill of the times to come. The power vacuum left in the wake of that tragedy had unbalanced the realm. There was a race to see which House could gain the most. Land, riches, acclaim. But Nemir couldn¡¯t focus on that. As he was, there was nothing he could do but get stronger. Another Iron-ranked Warrior wouldn¡¯t do much for his family. They had those in droves. But here, that wasn''t the case. It was only a matter of time before Litwick experienced a serious threat. And with the way things were looking, it might already be here. A goblin pack wasn¡¯t that hard to take out, but an entire tribe was a different beast entirely. There wouldn¡¯t just be hobgoblins to deal with. Nemir followed Annie¡¯s gaze to the other side of the cavern, the thrill of their triumph slowly being tainted with nervousness. Jamis was a skilled mage. Frighteningly so. There was a grace in his movements that Nemir had rarely seen. And he¡¯d spent more than his fair share of time around casters. He hadn¡¯t been exaggerating when calling him an apprentice War-mage. Because that was the only thing he could compare it to. And from what little Nemir knew about him, it might just be true. But even that didn¡¯t seem to be enough. For all his skills and tenacity, he was fighting an opponent a whole rank higher. The shaman had seventeen levels and a whole other affinity at his disposal. Nemir groaned as he pushed himself up, picking up his sword and propping it against his good shoulder. Eldric¡¯s grace guide him, he intoned, sending a small prayer to the God of Fate. He admired Jamis¡¯s unwavering confidence, but right now, his choice to fight seemed more like foolishness. ¡°Come on, come on,¡± he heard Annie mutter, her gaze intense as she took an instinctual step forward. Omi¡¯s hand shot out, gripping her arm. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare,¡± he said firmly. ¡°A single stray hit and you¡¯re dead. We wait, and if it doesn''t work out, we run.¡± The rogue''s unusual seriousness got through to her. She gritted her teeth, forcing a slow nod. As much as Nemir didn¡¯t like it, it was the truth. Leaving a teammate to battle for his life while they stood by left a bitter taste in his mouth, but fighting a caster was suicide. It had been Jamis¡¯s decision to enter the cave knowing there was a shaman inside. Being an Adventurer was a dangerous profession. Every time they ventured into the Wilds, they knew they might not be coming back. It was a risk they all took in pursuit of power. Jamis yelled as Earth traveled up his leg, pinning him in place. And even from the other side of the cavern, Nemir thought he heard the cracking of bone. ¡°Sil, do something!¡± Annie shouted, glancing at the archer with a panicked expression. She frantically pulled out the arrow that had killed the hobgoblin, quickly straightening the fletchings. She nocked it, letting it fly in one fluid motion. Nemir¡¯s heart pounded like a drum. Knowing the smart thing to do was retreat closer to the entrance but unable to move. He followed the arrows'' flight, praying it found its mark. But without even a glance, the shaman deflected it out of the air with an errant stone. Silvia dodged to the side, the projectile flying over her head. Nemir¡¯s hopes shattered when the Earth started crawling further up Jamis¡¯s leg, his screams growing louder. The shaman took a gleeful step closer, keeping just out of range of the burning tendril slashing out towards it. But then, for barely a moment, Nemir saw a flash of pure determination in the mages¡¯ eyes. He¡¯d honed himself against the hobgoblin. And now, the only thing they could hope for was for Jamis to do the same. Chapter 10 - Company With a sickening crunch, Rowan felt bones snap. A howl tore out of his throat as the shaman clenched its fist, compacting the earth that had engulfed his leg. His focus almost slipped, the pain piercing through his brain like a sharpened spike. If he dropped his spell now, he was as good as dead. There would be no do-over or second chances. This right here was it. Rowan¡¯s concentration sharpened to a fine edge, keeping the mana flowing into his whip despite the agony of his broken leg. Pain was something he could deal with. He imagined a turbulent stream; the riverbank covered in boulders of varying sizes. It had been a while since he¡¯d last needed to use this technique, but it came to him as easily as always. The Rivers and Waves was a meditation exercise he¡¯d learned as a child. And while it wasn¡¯t a true skill, that didn¡¯t make it any less useful. With an effort of Will, Rowan started throwing the boulders into the stream. It didn¡¯t deal with his injury. His wounds were still there. But what it did do was hide the pain from view. It kept his mind focused on the task at hand. The shaman thought it had him. That it caught its prey. But Rowan still had a tenth of his mana left, and with his spell active, he wasn¡¯t out of the fight yet. His [Burning Whip] slashed at the shaman, trying and failing to reach it. The smug bastard stood just out of range, grinning as a [Wind Blast] former at the tip of its staff. It took another step closer, taunting him, wanting to see the fear in Rowan¡¯s eyes. But instead, the only thing it saw was a bloody grin. The two tendrils of flame he¡¯d coiled around each other unfurled. Rowan had spent the last minute meticulously splitting his spell. He didn¡¯t have enough mana for another one, but that didn¡¯t mean he was out of cards to play. Holding it active with half the mana was straining his Intent, and dealing with that was where mastery came into play. Rowan condensed the whips. He made them as narrow as he could, keeping his mana under tension. But that wasn¡¯t the only thing he did. Making them narrower also made them longer. Something the gloating shaman hadn¡¯t expected. Rowan¡¯s whips shot out and wrapped around the monster''s limbs. It snarled in panic, and for the first time since their duel started, Rowan could see genuine fear in the goblins'' eyes. The [Wind Blast] fizzled out, blowing its dirty robe and matted hair back as a tendril of flame constricted around its arm. It dug into its flesh with a loud hiss, charring the skin and burning through muscles. The goblins¡¯ agonized scream grew louder as Rowan¡¯s spell cut through its arm, severing it by the elbow. With the shaman''s second spell failing, the pressure on his leg decreased, causing Rowan''s pain to surge. He barely held it together, throwing everything he had into tightening his other whip around the monster''s throat. When mages fought, a single spell was the difference between life and death. And even though Rowan had been losing for most of the battle, he¡¯d just landed that single spell. Letting out a triumphant yell¡ªhalf in pain, half in fury¡ªhe clenched his fist. The whips drew taut, and the shaman¡¯s head fell clean from its shoulder. A charred husk joined its severed arm while the ugly-looking staff clamored against the cavern floor. Rowan stared at the scene, bruised, bloody, and panting. The thrill that came with victory was the only thing keeping him standing. ¡°I did it,¡± he muttered, a wide smile stretching across his face. ¡°I won.¡± He fought a caster a tier higher than him, and he¡¯d come out on top. Rowan¡¯s gaze moved towards the center of the cavern¡ªtowards the dozens of bodies the Crimson Grove had left in its wake. He focused on the largest one, a hobgoblin with a hole through its skull. He¡¯d been so focused on his own battle that he hadn¡¯t even noticed it. But seeing a Silver-rank threat lying dead beneath them filled him with pride. At the sight, the tension slowly left his muscles. They¡¯d done what they set out to do. The goblin pack was dealt with. Their quest was complete. The thrill and adrenaline that kept him standing subsided, and with a strangled grunt, Rowan fell to the ground, his leg finally giving out. Kai was the first to reach him. His familiar swooped down, landing next to his broken leg. He cooed softly, nuzzling his head against Rowan¡¯s side. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he winced, blinking away the stars that clouded his vision. ¡°Just¡­ need a minute.¡± His thoughts grew cloudy, the blood loss making it hard to think. To move. Kai¡¯s trills grew more intense, his beak pecking at his fingers. ¡°Stop that,¡± Rowan mumbled, his speech growing slurred. ¡°I¡¯m already¡­ hurt¡­ enough.¡± Kai pecked again, the soft plink of his beak hitting Rowan¡¯s ring cutting through the haze. Healing, Rowan suddenly thought. I need healing¡­ The Vault¡­ Potions. Wrestling his mind under control felt like steering a ship with a spoon. Rowan knew exactly what he needed to do. He just didn¡¯t know if he could. As his eyes fluttered closed, Kai grew frantic. He bit at his hand¡ªhard, and for a moment, the sharp sting was enough to refocus his mind. Slipping into the Rivers and Waves technique, Rowan didn¡¯t let the amount of stones dotting the riverside deter him. He got to work, throwing in one after the other, fighting against the pull of unconsciousness with each heave. A furious intensity arose within him. He¡¯d won his fight. Dying after the fact wasn¡¯t an option. He heard the rapid footfalls of the Grove closing in, yet he didn¡¯t let that distract him from his task. Annie was the first to reach him, rushing to his side and gently cradling his head. ¡°Hey, we¡¯ve got you,¡± she said, concern lacing her tone. ¡°You¡¯re alright.¡± Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Rowan could barely make out her voice, but as she pulled a vial up to his lips, he turned his head away. ¡°Drink, you idiot!¡± she said firmly. The riverbank was far from fully cleared, but he¡¯d done enough to keep himself from falling unconscious. ¡°W-wait,¡± he muttered, groaning in effort as he summoned a potion from the Vault.
Name: Healing Potion
Grade: Rare
It was a higher rarity than the one Annie offered him, and with the sheer scope of the damage he¡¯d suffered, he was going to need it. Her eyes widened in surprise as she took it. She threw a quick glance towards the ring on Rowan¡¯s finger. But right now, he didn¡¯t care about what he was revealing. He''d already made up his mind to trust them. At least with this. In Litwick, a storage ring would definitely draw attention. They weren¡¯t all that uncommon in the grand scheme of things, but it was mostly mages who had access to them. And with there being only half a dozen of those in the city, that made them scarce. The Vault was so much more than just a storage ring, but he would keep that to himself. Annie uncorked the vial, tipping the soothing liquid into his mouth. Rowan eagerly gulped it down, feeling it settle in his stomach. His body slowly absorbed it, turning the alchemical properties imbued into the liquid into Life Essence. Healing his injuries. A soft, green haze appeared around his leg, and Rowan braced himself for what followed. He yelped as his broken leg snapped into place, his bones slowly knitting themselves back together while his wounds closed. It was a deeply unpleasant experience, like worms burrowing out and leaving something behind to fill the hole. He shuddered at the sensation, but a relieved breath soon followed. It was better to feel pain than nothing at all. It would take a few minutes for him to be healed up. And a few hours for his blood to regenerate, but Rowan would live. He pushed himself up, wincing as a twinge went up his leg. ¡°That went well,¡± Rowan muttered, a tired smile on his face. Nemir nodded, glancing at the decapitated shaman. ¡°Yes, it certainly did.¡± Rowan could see the tension slowly leave the burly swordsman''s body as he realized their fight was done. He thrust his sword into the ground, leaning against it and letting out a long, drawn-out breath. ¡°Gods, that was something else,¡± Silvia added, plopping down on the ground and unstringing her bow. ¡°I¡¯m never going to get used to seeing mages fight.¡± ¡°You can say that again,¡± Annie said, her eyes taking in the carnage Rowan¡¯s battle had left, a strange hunger in her gaze. There were furrows dug into the scarred ground where his whips and spells had left their marks, with pillars of earth and rock jutting out like the jaws of a wild beast. ¡°Seems you weren¡¯t just talking out of your ass,¡± Omi smirked, handing Rowan a waterskin. He chuckled, taking it with shaky hands and washing the blood from his face. ¡°It was closer than I would have liked. But I still have a head, so I¡¯ll take it as a win.¡± Rowan finally let himself relax. His wounded leg was slowly knitting itself back together, so the only thing he could do was wait. Kai nuzzled into his side, trilling softly. Rowan smiled, scratching the little menace under the chin. ¡°You did good,¡± he praised him, once again grateful for having such a loyal companion by his side. Seeing that he was alright, his familiar turned towards the cavern, a greedy glint in his eyes. It was a scene of death and mayhem, with dead bodies covering the ground and the stench of blood and guts permeating the air. ¡°Yeah, yeah, I¡¯m fine,¡± Rowan snorted. ¡°Go wild.¡± He didn¡¯t need to be told twice. With a flap of his wings, Kai flew towards the carnage, landing on the massive hobgoblin. His beak widened the hole Silvia¡¯s arrow had left in the monster''s skull and he started his feast. ¡°That¡¯s certainly a sight,¡± Rowan muttered, shaking his head. ¡°What level was it?¡± He asked, curious about their fight. ¡°Eighteen,¡± Annie said, smiling proudly. ¡°You should have seen Nemir go. He took on its Aura head-on,¡± she clapped him on the back. ¡°Didn¡¯t even break any bones,¡± she said with a smirk. Rowan looked at the swordsman, an appraising look in his eyes. ¡°How close are you?¡± he couldn¡¯t help but ask. Nemir closed his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips as he took a deep breath. ¡°Close,¡± he whispered. ¡°I felt it there, at the end. Like a well of power I haven¡¯t tapped into yet.¡± Rowan nodded. ¡°That¡¯s good,¡± he said. ¡°With the direction things are headed, having a Silver-rank on the team is going to be important.¡± This fight confirmed that there was a tribe settling in the area. Shamans and hobgoblins weren¡¯t monsters that just wandered around without purpose. They had been expecting a pack, a dozen or so goblins. But what they found was a village in the making. Nemir''s expression hardened. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± he said, glancing over at the shamans'' tent. ¡°Omi, could you cut out that sigil? We¡¯ll need it for the report.¡± The rogue nodded, moving away to do his task. ¡°Would you stop it with the doom and gloom?¡± Silvia said, walking around and plucking arrows out of corpses. ¡°We just won a huge fight. We¡¯re allowed to celebrate for a bit before you downers spoil the mood.¡± Nemir chuckled, and a small smile appeared on Rowan¡¯s face. They shared a knowing glance, deciding to leave that conversation for later. She was right. Now wasn¡¯t the time for that kind of talk. Nemir stood back up, dusting off his clothes and pulling out a dagger. His eyes moved over the graveyard they left in their wake, and Rowan could see Silvia¡¯s expression fall. ¡°Do we have to?¡± she grumbled. ¡°If we want to get paid,¡± he shrugged, moving from goblin to goblin, prying out their fangs. Rowan leaned his back against the cavern wall. ¡°Let me guess, you¡¯re too wounded to help?¡± Annie smirked, crossing her arms. ¡°Of course,¡± he nodded. ¡°I think I might faint if I stand up.¡± Rowan groaned for emphasis. ¡°In fact, you might need to carry me back.¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°Stop bitching.¡± Taking her canteen, she emptied it over Rowan¡¯s leg, washing away the blood and revealing the healed skin beneath. ¡°Don¡¯t think I didn¡¯t scan the potion you gave me,¡± Annie said, plopping down next to him. ¡°Or that you pulled it out of a storage ring.¡± Rowan sighed. ¡°Can we pretend you didn¡¯t?¡± Annie snorted. ¡°Fat chance,¡± she eyed him for a moment, a thoughtful expression on her face. ¡°I¡¯m guessing it¡¯s not something you want to talk about?¡± ¡°No. Not really,¡± he said after a moment. ¡°And I¡¯d appreciate it if it stays in the group. The last thing I need is some desperate moron trying to steal it.¡± That wasn¡¯t the whole truth, but it¡¯d do for now. The only people in the kingdom who had any shot of taking it from him weren¡¯t anywhere near Litwick. And taking it wasn¡¯t the same as getting access to it. The bloodline lock on the artifact made sure of that. Breaking a soul-bond required a special set of skills. Ones that were considered rare even in the circles he grew up in. And even if someone did manage to break it, the only thing they would get was a plain stone ring. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. Your secret is safe with us,¡± she said, a playful glint in her eyes. ¡°But from now on, you¡¯re carrying all the loot.¡± Rowan laughed, letting out a breath he didn¡¯t even know he was holding. Secrets had a way of weighing on him, and while he couldn¡¯t spill all of them, getting a few off his chest left him feeling lighter than he had in a long time. ¡°Deal.¡± ¡°Good,¡± she nodded, standing back up. ¡°Enough sitting around. Put on some pants, and get to work.¡± Rowan glanced down at himself, noticing his state of undress. His pants were more a suggestion than a real article of clothing at this point. And while he wasn¡¯t what one would call shy, walking around half-naked was just plain rude. Cleaning away the last remnants of blood covering his body, he pulled out a fresh set of clothes from the Vault and followed after her. There were goblins to loot. And those teeth weren¡¯t going to pull themselves. . . . Half an hour later, the team stood in what used to be a goblin village. Omi held a pouch filled to the brim with goblin fangs, throwing it casually into the air. ¡°Now that¡¯s what I call a payday,¡± he grinned. ¡°Three dozen lesser goblins, a dozen Iron-rank ones, and a hobgoblin?¡± he tossed the pouch to Rowan. ¡°New armor, here I come.¡± ¡°You¡¯re thinking too small,¡± Rowan smiled, holding a smooth orb in his other hand. The shaman¡¯s Core shone with an inner light¡ªa soft orange, with flashes of green and brown visible deeper in. Rowan¡¯s duel had left it mostly depleted, but even still, it was worth ten times the amount they¡¯d get from the quest itself. Omi¡¯s brows furrowed. ¡°Not our kill. Besides, aren¡¯t Core¡¯s useful for mages?¡± he asked. ¡°Might be better for you to keep it.¡± ¡°Not really,¡± Rowan answered, willing it into the Vault along with the fangs. ¡°I¡¯m not an enchanter, or an alchemist, or a blacksmith. The only thing I can do with it is keep it as a trophy,¡± he shrugged. ¡°And we decided on the distribution before we left the city. Changing it after the fact wouldn¡¯t be fair.¡± If the shaman had a Fire affinity, Rowan might have been able to absorb what mana was left to refill his reserves. But besides that, it was just a pretty bauble. ¡°You won¡¯t hear me complaining about free gold,¡± Silvia said, casually sharpening an arrowhead. ¡°I¡¯ve been eyeing a new bow. And selling a Core is going to go a long way towards that.¡± ¡°Alright, enough messing around,¡± Nemir said, standing up. ¡°We need to get back to the city before nightfall. If we go now, we should make it with a few hours to spare.¡± The rest of the team followed suit, but Rowan raised a hand. ¡°Can you give me half an hour?¡± he asked, feeling at his Core. The fight had drained him fully, and walking around the Wilds defenseless was a fantastic way to get eaten. Nemir nodded. ¡°Probably for the best,¡± he said. ¡°But half an hour, and that¡¯s it.¡± Rowan took out a mana potion and gulped it down. He sat on the ground, closed his eyes, and started meditating. After a fight was the only time his mind seemed to stay calm. There were no stray thoughts, no heavy memories plaguing his mind. He took a deep, calming breath and got to work. The combination of a mana potion and meditation worked wonders on his depleted Core. It vibrated with a fierce intensity, slowly but surely filling back up. But less than five minutes later, the sound of weapons being drawn broke his concentration. Rowan¡¯s eyes shot open. He looked at the Grove, all of them standing with their backs to him, their eyes focused on one of the cave entrances. Just as he was about to ask what was going on, he heard it. Voices, faint but unmistakable. Nemir¡¯s grip tightened on the hilt of his sword. ¡°Get ready,¡± he said, a fierce expression on his face. ¡°We have company.¡± Chapter 11 - An Honest Disagreement Rowan stood up, dusting himself off as he moved to stand behind the rest of the team. Something was coming, and out in the Wilds, that usually meant trouble. He had barely a trickle of mana left. The potion he¡¯d drunk was still active in the background, his Core thrumming lightly as it slowly refilled itself. But without meditation on top of that, it would take hours for his reserves to fully come back. Right now, he was practically defenseless. ¡°It isn¡¯t goblins,¡± Omi muttered. ¡°Those are people.¡± Some of the tension left their shoulders, but even still, the team was on guard. This could prove more dangerous than their first fight depending on who exactly it was, and how many of them there were. The Wilds were a treacherous place, in more ways than one. It wouldn''t have been the first time a team went missing. Rowan took a moment to think it through. There were only two possibilities on who it could be. Either the Guild itself sent someone to retrieve them¡ªwhich wasn¡¯t all that likely¡ªor another team had found the cave. The chances of someone randomly running across it are almost nonexistent. So it was someone who saw the quest flier. ¡°It¡¯s that Silver-rank,¡± Rowan said after a moment. ¡°The one who accepted the quest before us.¡± Nemir grimaced. ¡°You¡¯re probably right.¡± None of them were naive enough to think this would be a friendly conversation. ¡°Killian. He¡¯s a Silver-rank with an Aura of Haste,¡± Omi said, his daggers held loosely by his side. It looked casual, but they were ready to be thrown. If things went south, getting the first attack in was crucial. Silvia did the same, with her bow pointed at the ground and an arrow loosely knocked. Nemir and Annie stood at the front, their weapons in their hands. ¡°His team is called the Steel Fist,¡± the rogue continued. ¡°Last I heard, there¡¯s two dozen of them. But half of those are still in Bronze, so I doubt all of them are out here,¡± he glanced at each of them in turn, his eyes lingering on Rowan. ¡°Can we take that?¡± He asked quietly, the implications clear. Rowan shook his head. Fighting against someone with an Aura wasn¡¯t a fight he would win right now. A warrior with it had the ability to interact with mana, and a single [Firebolt] wasn¡¯t going to end that threat. Even if the team managed to deal with the Iron-ranks, that one loose end was enough to crush their chances. A battle was most often decided by who had the strongest person on the field. And right now, that wasn¡¯t them. Rowan¡¯s mind spun, and he quickly realized what he had to do. Summoning the staff he¡¯d picked up from the shaman, he stepped forward, moving in front of the team.
Name: Minor Staff of Wind
Grade: Rare
It wouldn¡¯t actually help him with his casting. Rowan had exactly zero Wind mana to work with, and that made the staff nothing more than a big stick. But they didn¡¯t know that. A single spell would be more than enough for a demonstration. His trait prevented mana exhaustion, so to whoever entered the cavern, Rowan would look like a mage with the necessary resources to fight back. It didn¡¯t matter that it wasn¡¯t true. What mattered was that they believed it. If you can¡¯t win a fight, avoid it. Fighting against a mage was not something most people did lightly. And that went double for high-leveled Adventures. Getting that strong required skill, and more importantly, the ability to stay alive. Whoever this Killian was, he wasn¡¯t stupid. If he saw that there was a real chance he could lose his life, he¡¯d back off. Or at least, that was the hope. The sound of voices grew louder. The clinking of metal and the armored footfalls of half a dozen men reached their ears just before the group appeared, entering the cavern. At their front stood three swordsmen, their blades drawn and the quality of their armor apparent, even from a distance. Behind them strode a tall, athletic-looking man, outfitted in studded leather armor, a long spear in his hand. That¡¯s him, Rowan thought. A quick scan confirmed it.
Level: 27
Body: Silver IV [27 Levels]
Core: N/A
It was higher than he would have liked. High enough that there was a chance even in a straight fight, he wouldn¡¯t come out ahead. The shaman was the tougher opponent of the two, but that had left him pretty damn close to dying. Rowan was only level six, so there was a good chance he¡¯d have to give them what they wanted. He stepped around Nemir, moving to the front. Just have to convince him I''m not running on empty. He had mana for maybe two [Firebolt]¡¯s. Not much, but it should hopefully be enough. The goal wasn¡¯t to not turn this into a fight, and Rowan had just the tools for that. Annie shot him a look, but the swordsman placed a hand on her shoulder. He nodded to Rowan, understanding the situation. ¡°Be careful,¡± he said, glancing at his ring. ¡°They¡¯ll probably ask for a part of the reward. But I¡¯m guessing that¡¯s worth a lot more, so try not to lose it.¡± You don¡¯t know how right you are, Rowan smiled, nodding back. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. The Vault being stolen wasn¡¯t a risk. The ring was soul-bound to him, meaning he couldn¡¯t lose it. To everyone else, it looked like it was plain stone. Nothing more than a worthless keepsake. Because in essence, that was exactly what it was. The ring was nothing more than an access point. ¡°I¡¯m going to warn you upfront, I¡¯m going to do something loud,¡± he said, looking at the team. ¡°Don¡¯t panic when I do, okay?¡± Silvia gave him a thumbs up. ¡°Try not to get us killed.¡± Rowan snorted. ¡°Will do.¡± It was gratifying to see the trust they put in him. Annie¡¯s scowl didn¡¯t go away, but she thankfully pointed it towards the approaching group. Omi and Silvia took a step back, slightly flanking the three of them. Even though he hoped this wouldn¡¯t turn into a fight, it was smart to be prepared. Adventurers didn¡¯t usually kill other Adventurers. It was a crime that would lead to expulsion from the Guild at best, and a public execution at the worst. But that didn¡¯t mean it never happened. They were hours away from the city, deep into the Wilds. And who¡¯s to say what happened if they never returned? Nemir¡¯s right. They¡¯ll ask for a cut. So do I just give it to them? He could say it had been his decision and pay the team back from his own funds. The reward from fifty goblins, a hobgoblin, and a shaman would be a big haul¡ªat least a few hundred gold¡ªbut it wasn¡¯t like he would feel the loss. So why was he hesitating? Paying back the team wasn¡¯t what nagged at him. The thing that bothered him was paying out the ransom in the first place. He took a deep breath, pushing away his pride. In any dangerous situation, the goal was to survive. That usually meant using his mana to end a threat¡ªexchanging an Intent for a result¡ªbut this wasn¡¯t that kind of danger. This wasn¡¯t a rampaging monster trying to bite his head off. It was a pack of greedy adventurers. The resource he had was gold, so he was going to use it. Rowan exhaled, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. As they got closer, Rowan noticed the two archers standing at the back. Chatting casually, their arrows half knocked. Behind even them was a robed figure, and it was her he focused on. He narrowed his eyes, trying to make out the insignia woven into her attire. The dim light of the cavern made it a hard task, and he just barely managed to make out a six-pointed star. Rowan¡¯s smile widened, his shoulders relaxing even further. That was the heraldry of the followers of Eldara, the Goddess of Nature. The priestess definitely wasn¡¯t a part of the group, and with her here, the chances of a fight happening dropped dramatically. The priesthood of Eldara wasn¡¯t known for being a murderous bunch. They were healers and guides, and Rowan would go as far as to call them trustworthy. The vows they took were more than just empty words, and more than human laws backed them. Unlike mages, priests exchanged their Cores for a connection to the Divine. They were granted Blessings in turn, which gave them abilities similar to spells. The Gods rewarded their followers, and as much as he despised the idea of giving someone else the reins to his power, it was a valid Path to take. Just because it wasn¡¯t the one he walked didn¡¯t mean he would mock it. It wasn¡¯t uncommon for the Order to attach one of its younger members to a team and send them out into the Wilds. They were healers. If they wanted to grow stronger, that was exactly what they needed to do, and this was exactly where they needed to be to do it. Not too many gruesome injuries in the city, Rowan winced, flexing his leg. The potion had done its work, but the mental scar of having his limb shattered still lingered. Beyond the walls was where healing was needed the most. Eldara had a large number of worshipers in Litwick, the same as in most other settlements. She was the leader of the pantheon. Her domain spanned most of the world. It was easier to follow a God than it was to become a mage, and often safer than becoming a warrior. Meaning worshipers were numerous across the kingdom.
Level: 12
Body: Bronze II [2 Levels]
Blessing: Glimmer [10 Levels]
First Circle, Rowan thought to himself. Glimmer was the lowest rank a blessing could be. To advance, a worshiper needed to deepen its connection with the Divine. Turning it into an inner Glow. Priest took that even further, but from what Rowan knew, there was only a single one of those in the city. ¡°He¡¯s going to be much faster than you,¡± Annie whispered, shooting a glance at the approaching Silver-rank. ¡°If things go south, Nemir¡¯s the only one who has a chance of withstanding a blow. You should be at the back.¡± The rest of their group was dangerous on its own, but the man in the center was on another level. There was a look about him. A grace to his movements that made him resemble a predator. He was a middle-aged man with an athletic physique and a neatly trimmed beard adorning his face. The spear he held was a wicked-looking instrument. The dark brown shaft tipped with a blade longer than Rowan¡¯s arm. ¡°If things go south, we¡¯re fucked either way,¡± Omi muttered back, sheathing his daggers. ¡°And he¡¯s not going to fight a mage, especially after seeing that,¡± he said, glancing at the mass grave behind them. As the group finally got close enough, their Silver-rank waved. ¡°Greetings!¡± he said with an affable smile. ¡°It seems you took care of our quest for us,¡± he stepped to the front. ¡°I am Killian Burrow, leader of the Steel Fist. Who might you be?¡± Rowan kept his expression relaxed, nodding back to the approaching warrior. ¡°Hello there, I¡¯m Jamis, and this is the Crimson Grove,¡± he said, gesturing at the team. ¡°But I¡¯m pretty sure you¡¯re mistaken, the quest was reassigned to us.¡± ¡°Truly?¡± Killian¡¯s lips pulled down into a slight frown. ¡°That must have been a mistake,¡± he shook his head with a chuckle. ¡°I¡¯m sure we could come to some sort of arrangement.¡± And there it is. With the priestess here, Rowan was confident in turning this apparent shakedown into a negotiation. It was all about posturing. Being perceived as dangerous was often all you needed. And there were few things more dangerous than a pissed-off mage. Rowan shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m afraid you¡¯ll have to talk to the Guild about that.¡± He slowly turned his staff, drawing attention to it. It wasn¡¯t exactly subtle, but it got his meaning across. Killian¡¯s eyes narrowed, but his expression didn¡¯t waver. ¡°The Guild, yes¡­ but that takes time, and the bureaucracy is agonizingly slow,¡± he sighed with a weary smile. ¡°It¡¯s only right that we¡ªas the first team to take this quest¡ªreceive fair compensation. A token, if you will. For our trouble.¡± He forced a calm smile on his face, keeping his expression relaxed. What Killian was saying made absolutely no sense, and both of them knew it. His team had left the quest to expire. They did no work, and fought no battles. But here he was, trying to claim something that wasn¡¯t his. The thought of giving something to this lowlife ate away at Rowan. His grip tightened slightly. The shaman''s staff held ominously to the side. ¡°And what exactly did you have in mind?¡± Rowan asked, trying to keep the edge from his voice. Killian chuckled. ¡°Nothing too egregious, I assure you. I think twenty percent of the reward would be sufficient.¡± Rowan nodded slowly. ¡°Of course, that sounds more than fair.¡± Annie tensed, glancing at him with confusion clearly etched on her features. He understood the unspoken question in her eyes. She hadn¡¯t expected him to just give in to their demands. Just as she was about to say something, Omi¡¯s hand found her wrist. It was a subtle gesture, but it was enough to stop her from interfering. I need to remember to buy him a drink, Rowan thought, shooting the rogue a grateful look. Killian¡¯s smile widened. ¡°Good. I¡¯m glad we could agree.¡± Now comes the hard part. The spearman¡¯s gaze darted past Rowan, settling on the heap of goblin corpses in the cave. ¡°The reward should naturally include the bounty from the kills, no?¡± He sighed. Rowan took a moment to appraise the warrior, his gaze steady and unwavering, a subtle smile playing on his lips. The not-so-subtle threat of violence hanging heavy in the air. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think it should,¡± Rowan answered, turning his hand palm up and pulling what little mana he had out of his Core. The other members of the Steel Fist took an instinctual step back as a small red orb flared to life. It was barely the size of a marble, not nearly enough to do any significant damage. But damage wasn¡¯t the point. Killian¡¯s eyes narrowed at the display, his body turning slightly as if preparing for a fight. Rowan gestured at the battleground where he fought the shaman, the signs of their battle clear. It was hard to miss the furrows burned into the ground and the earthen spikes jutting upwards. He casually twirled the orb around his fingers. ¡°The quest was miss-ranked. Instead of a pack, we fought four. Including a shaman and a hobgoblin,¡± Rowan let that sink in, throwing the spell to the side. With such a small casting, he was able to tweak his Intent on the fly. So when the spell impacted the cavern wall, it exploded with a loud boom. That brought his mana down by a fair bit. If someone looked where it hit, they¡¯d have seen that there wasn¡¯t actually any damage on the wall. The spell had been all flash and thunder, no lightning. But nobody was focusing on that. The tension in the cavern rose. Nemir and Annie stepped closer to him while the three swordsmen hesitated, unsure whether to prepare for a fight or retreat. Rowan eyed the two archers at the back. They were frowning, but made no attempt to draw their bows. Finally, he glanced at the healer, curious to see what she would do. If anything, she looked the calmest out of all of them. There was a subtle frown on her face as she looked around the cavern, the explosion not concerning her in the slightest. She was instead focused on the location where Rowan had fought the shaman, her gaze drawn to the decapitated body of his opponent. Rowan returned his focus to the spearman standing in front of him. The look on Killain¡¯s face was unmistakable¡ªa flicker of wariness crossed his eyes, and he took a half-step back before steadying himself. It took him a moment to realize what he¡¯d done, and he scowled in response, the mask dropping. ¡°The kills were ours,¡± Rowan said simply, leaning the staff against his shoulder. ¡°The Guild is going to reclassify this quest as high Silver when we get back. Twenty percent of that is more than generous.¡± Killian took a slow step forward, eyeing Rowan with a calculating expression. He could see the gears turning in his head. Trying to find the right amount to push, the right amount to squeeze them for. ¡°And what happens if we disagree?¡± Killian finally said. Rowan didn¡¯t miss how he¡¯d moved just close enough for his spear to be in range. If he struck now, he wouldn¡¯t even see the blow coming. A Silver-rank focused on Dexterity wasn¡¯t a foe he could beat in a contest of speed, but instead of cowering, Rowan stepped closer. There was an art to looking intimidating, and being a full head taller certainly helped. Rowan had grown up around titans. People whose every word demanded attention. It wasn¡¯t a stretch to say he had the act down. Tilting his head slightly to the side, he put on a mask of indifference with just the slightest smidge of annoyance. ¡°Good,¡± he said. ¡°An honest disagreement is a great place to start.¡± Chapter 12 - An Open Conversation Killian studied Rowan for a moment before letting out a booming laugh. ¡°I like you, Jamis,¡± he said, shaking his head. ¡°No beating around the bush. You¡¯re right, an honest disagreement is a great place to start.¡± He glanced over his shoulder at one of the archers. ¡°Misk, bring the chairs, would you?¡± Rowan arched an eyebrow. ¡°You bring chairs to the Wilds?¡± Killian looked back at him with mild confusion, a smile playing on his lips. ¡°Of course,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯d be surprised how often they come in handy.¡± So this is their angle, Rowan thought. Opportunists. He felt himself relax a bit. This was a negotiation now¡ªa familiar game he was more than comfortable playing. As they settled into their chairs, Killian glanced around the cavern with practiced ease. ¡°By my count, there are four dozen dead goblins here,¡± he began, his tone casual but assessing. ¡°With the hobgoblin and a shaman among them, the bounty is going to be substantial.¡± ¡°So this is a shakedown?¡± Rowan asked, leaning his staff against the chair. Killian smirked, shrugging. ¡°Call it what you like.¡± He drove his spear into the earth beside him, the blade slipping into the hard ground like it was a sheathe. ¡°We all need to make a living somehow.¡± His tone was light as he waved his team back. They nodded, relaxing and putting away their weapons, a few of them starting to chat amongst themselves. Killian shifted his gaze back to Rowan¡¯s group. ¡°Standard practice is to leave an expired quest up for a week. This one only went up today,¡± he pointed out. ¡°What you did was in poor form¡ªwe had every intention of completing it.¡± Rowan glanced at Annie. Litwick, like every city, had its own brand of politics. And those politics multiplied tenfold when adventures were involved. He wasn¡¯t familiar enough with the place yet, but Annie was, she¡¯d know where they stood. After all, the Guildmistress was her aunt, and there wasn¡¯t anyone in the city with more sway than her. They could have probably cut this short if they mentioned that little fact, but she wanted to keep it quiet. So that was what they did. Annie sighed, rolling her eyes. ¡°He¡¯s right. It was kind of a dick move,¡± she admitted, throwing a pointed glance toward Nemir. ¡°This genius picked it, and I didn¡¯t think to ask until we¡¯d already left the city.¡± Nemir frowned, folding his arms. ¡°It was marked as a priority quest. And with good reason too,¡± he said defensively ¡°If they¡¯d been left to fester for another week, the goblins would have finished building the village and we¡¯d have a larger problem on our hands.¡± Killian nodded. ¡°And the city will thank you for ridding it of this threat. But it wouldn¡¯t have been a week,¡± he continued. ¡°We came here today, and we need to be reimbursed for time lost.¡± Nemir opened his mouth, but Annie cut him off, nodding to Killan. ¡°Ten percent of the quest reward, no bounty.¡± Killian grinned, arching a brow. ¡°A strong opening.¡± The members of the Steel Fist, now at ease, produced more chairs. They unfolded them with quick, practiced movements, pulling out dried meat and canteens. Three thin, interlocked pieces of metal formed each chair, with a cloth connecting their ends¡ªa smart tool for seasoned adventurers. Annie moved to Rowan¡¯s side while the rest of their team took a few steps back. The healer in Killian¡¯s group wandered over to Silvia, eyeing the markings Rowan¡¯s whips left on the wall with open curiosity. ¡°Who did that?¡± she asked, her tone calm, as if she was speaking to an artist on the street, rather than standing in a cave among armed strangers. ¡°Uh, hi?¡± Silvia replied with a bemused smile, lowering her bow. ¡°I hope you¡¯re asking about those smaller holes,¡± she pointed them out. ¡°Because that would be me,¡± their archer said proudly. The tension slowly bled out of the Grove as well, their grips relaxing, and the adrenaline of the standoff retreating. The healer tilted her head, studying the distant marks. ¡°Those are quite far away,¡± she conceded. ¡°But no, I meant the larger channels. Who made those?¡± Rowan caught Killian¡¯s eyes, his brows rising in a silent question. ¡°What do you want me to say?¡± Killian replied with a shrug, taking a drink from a flask he¡¯d pulled from his belt. ¡°Healers are an odd bunch.¡± Silvia inclined her head towards Rowan. ¡°The guy with the stick,¡± she muttered, settling on the ground and grumpily examining her arrows. The healer gave Rowan a curious look. ¡°I¡¯d like to speak with you once your discussion is over,¡± she said, watching Silvia for another moment before sitting down beside her, tucking her robes neatly under her knees. Rowan smothered a grin and turned his attention back to Killian. ¡°We hired her for this mission,¡± he explained. ¡°And clerics aren¡¯t cheap.¡± ¡°Yes, but you didn¡¯t complete the quest. We did,¡± Annie said, keeping her tone firm. ¡°Once we report it, it¡¯ll get bumped up to Silver, and the reward won¡¯t just be a few gold. Ten percent is more than fair.¡± She folded her arms, leaning back. Rowan bit back a smile. She¡¯s really going for the throat ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± he conceded, sounding more amused than irritated ¡°But we could have. We¡¯ve taken out nests before. And more than a few shamans as well.¡± He paused, tapping his chin. ¡°How about twenty percent of the bounty, and you keep the full reward? Less hassle that way.¡± ¡°Twenty percent is steep, and we both know it,¡± Rowan cut in, reaching into his coat, hiding his hand from view and summoning the pouch filled with fangs. ¡°There¡¯s around fifty goblin¡¯s worth here,¡± he jangled the pouch. ¡°Three dozen of them were lesser goblins, with another dozen being Iron-ranks.¡± Killian¡¯s eyes flickered with greed. ¡°And the Core?¡±Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Rowan kept his expression steady. He¡¯d expected this¡ªthe Core was worth more than everything else combined. It was only natural he¡¯d focus on it. But lying through his teeth never failed him before. He met his gaze with practiced indifference. ¡°Gone,¡± he said. ¡°It dissipated as soon as we dug it out. Not enough mana inside it to hold its form.¡± Killian chuckled, obviously unconvinced. ¡°Convenient, that. Isn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°Convenient or not, that¡¯s what happened,¡± Rowan replied, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. ¡°So here¡¯s what I was thinking. You get twenty percent of the reward, and ten percent of the bounty¡ªnot including the hobgoblin.¡± Killian snorted. ¡°Leaving out the hobgoblin cuts our take in half,¡± he said, looking at Rowan appraisingly. ¡°Fifteen percent, across the board.¡± Rowan made a show of thinking it over. It wasn¡¯t much to him, all things considered. But that didn¡¯t mean he would just give the greedy adventurer what he wanted. ¡°Ten percent, including the hobgoblin,¡± he finally said. ¡°That should cover your ¡®inconvenience¡¯.¡± A tense silence fell between them as Killian weighed the offer, scratching his chin and muttering something under his breath. Finally, after a long pause, his easygoing smile returned. ¡°Deal!¡± He extended his hand. ¡°It¡¯s been a pleasure doing business with you.¡± Rowan shook his hand, keeping a straight face as Killian¡¯s grip tightened. The twenty levels of difference between them was apparent, but he didn¡¯t let it show. ¡°Likewise,¡± he replied, pulling his hand back. He untied the pouch, counting out the agreed-upon share and let the bloody fangs spill into Killian¡¯s waiting hands. ¡°That¡¯s about ten percent. Give or take a tooth,¡± he smirked, enjoying the grimace on the other man¡¯s face as he held the bounty. ¡°We¡¯ll deposit the gold from the reward into your accounts.¡± ¡°Fair enough.¡± Killian handed the bounty off to one of his teammates who quickly stored it away. Annie looked at Rowan, giving him a slight nod before returning her attention to the Silver-rank. ¡°So, what¡¯s your plan?¡± she asked, gesturing at his team. ¡°We¡¯re heading back to the city. You joining us?¡± Killian shook his head. ¡°We¡¯ll stay here for the night. There¡¯s a Stalker pack a few hours east of here we need to deal with. Better to see it done now when we¡¯re already out here,¡± a smile tugged at his lips. ¡°Before, you know, someone takes it out from under us,¡± he nodded to the team. ¡°Safe travels.¡± And with that, he strode away to join his team at the far end of the cavern, their makeshift camp slowly taking form. Rowan exhaled, glancing at Annie. ¡°That went well.¡± She gave him a considerate look. ¡°Yeah, I suppose it did.¡± She smiled. Nemir pulled the tip of his sword out of the ground, finally sheathing it across his back. He joined them, a slight frown on his face. ¡°Was it really necessary to pay him off? By right, it was our quest. They didn¡¯t earn a single copper of it.¡± Annie sighed. ¡°By right? No. But in a city like Litwick, unwritten rules matter¡ªespecially with Silver-ranks. There¡¯s only a few dozen of them, but they¡¯re the bulk of the forces keeping the surrounding Wilds in check,¡± she said, glancing at Killian¡¯s as they pulled out tents. ¡°Besides, they were actually on their way to complete it. A small payment keeps us on good terms.¡± Rowan kept his opinion to himself. This wasn¡¯t his city, and these weren¡¯t his people. What Killian did didn¡¯t sit right with him. There was little doubt in his mind that if Rowan hadn¡¯t been here, that ¡®cut¡¯ would have been much higher. But what ate away at him even more was the fact if the spearman had tried something, Rowan couldn¡¯t have done anything to stop it. That was something he was intent on changing. It¡¯s time to work on advancing, he decided. When we get back, I¡¯m not leaving the house until I get my Core to Orange. It was time to see it done. ¡°At least we kept the Core,¡± Omi added in with a sly grin. ¡°Nice work.¡± Rowan chuckled. ¡°Now we just need to find someone to buy it.¡± ¡°The Guild can handle that,¡± Annie said. ¡°They''ll take a cut, but it''s safer than finding someone on our own.¡± ¡°Sure, let¡¯s do¡ª¡± A tap on his shoulder cut him off. ¡°So you lied,¡± a voice said. Rowan jumped, spinning around. The healer stood behind him with a mildly perplexed look. ¡°Could I speak with you now?¡± Silvia flashed a wide smile. ¡°Her name¡¯s Zoe. And she¡¯s my new favorite person,¡± she said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. ¡°She¡¯s a bit¡­ sideways, but I like her.¡± Zoe frowned, sidestepping the attempted hug. ¡°We¡¯ve just met. That seems hasty.¡± ¡°I¡¯m a great judge of character,¡± Silvia shrugged. ¡°So am I,¡± Zoe¡¯s frown deepened, looking intently at the archer. She shook her head, glancing back at Rowan with that casual expression back on her face. ¡°I don¡¯t feel it,¡± she said, smoothing out her robe. Silvia¡¯s eyes sparkled. ¡°I love a challenge.¡± Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°Hello, Zoe. Please excuse her,¡± he said with a sigh. ¡°I¡¯m Jamis. And sure, we can talk.¡± He¡¯d almost forgotten she was with them. But her knowing he¡¯d lied about the Core wasn¡¯t much of a concern¡ªhe doubted she¡¯d tell Killian, and even if she did, they wouldn¡¯t be able to find it. As he watched her, he noticed her sharp, green eyes¡ªthe kind that seemed to take in more than she let on. Her wheat-white hair contrasted their intensity, falling over her shoulders. Her robe was of quality make, with more than a few enchantments woven into it, alongside the heraldry of Eldara¡¯s priesthood. The Goddess of Nature¡¯s followers belonged to the distinct Orders; the Verdant Oak, focused on nurturing and guidance; the Emerald Fang, wardens that kept balance between predator and prey; and the Cleansing Light, the healers. The first was the largest. Their members, known as Guide¡¯s, followed Eldara¡¯s teachings the closest. There was nothing more nurturing than directly guiding a person down a Path. It was their way of praying, which fed divine power to their deity. The second were the Oak Wardens, focusing on guardianship and balance. Often enough, it was humanity that was the prey, making them fierce protectors of settlements. Healers were the rarest of the bunch. Following that path required a certain mindset. A fearlessness to head into danger with a determination not to harm anything. Eldara choose her healers carefully, making them a peculiar group. Rowan had always been distrusting of gods. A harvesting scheme for suckers, as his brother had liked to put it. His family had loosely followed Aeloria, the goddess of Magic. But they were never worshipers. It had been more a respectful acknowledgement, with no blessings involved. Rowan knew about the Gods and their orders well. Knowledge had been his only asset after he¡¯d resigned himself to being dull, so he¡¯d studied the world meticulously, wanting to be useful in any way he could. Without Awakening, he¡¯d expected a life of shortcomings. He didn¡¯t have a Core, meaning he had no spells to make him powerful. And no System, meaning no skills to make him useful. The fall of his House had changed that. Leaving him weary and despondent. Rowan had spent the year between that day and his Awakening in a haze of potions and low company. House Davar had been granted his family''s seat, and when they learned he was alive, they gave him a manor, a stipend, and dismissed him as irrelevant. Then the waiting started. Envisioning a knife in the dark everytime he closed his eyes. Whatever else, he was still the last living member of his house. Killing him was something he¡¯d expected them to do. But each day they didn¡¯t, he found himself growing angrier. They wouldn¡¯t do it, he¡¯d realized. Because it didn¡¯t matter. He hadn¡¯t Awakened, meaning he wasn¡¯t an Heir. The title of Duke would pass on to whoever was holding their throne. The Silent Seat. Rowan was left to do whatever he wanted. Because he was utterly powerless. An object to pity, and occasionally, ridicule. It hadn¡¯t been that long since that changed. The day Rowan Awakened, he¡¯d also gotten his Core, the Vault, and his Trait. But most importantly, momentum. Burning down the mansion had been strangely cathartic, and it had the added bonus of making people think he died. His Awakening had changed things, in more ways than one. It wouldn¡¯t have gone unnoticed, and it wouldn¡¯t have been long before House Davar realized that the reason they weren¡¯t getting the [Title] was because someone else already had it. That was when the knives would come. The Vault held teleportation tokens to all the different regions in the kingdom, and the Verdant Vale was perfect for what he needed. Distance, and anonymity. Rowan had thought about going to one of his family''s allies. There were House¡¯s he thought he could trust, but how far does loyalty really go? The only place he knew for certain he¡¯d be safe was at the Ascendant Academy. There was someone there whose loyalty Rowan didn¡¯t doubt, but going to it wasn¡¯t in the cards yet. The tokens send him to a region, not a specific location. It had taken him a week to find Litwick the first time he¡¯d used one, and he¡¯d almost died more than once during the journey. The only thing that kept him alive was barely managing to master [Burning Hands], and Kai helping out. He was much stronger now, but most of the kingdom was still a death sentence to him. The Academy was in the middle of the Onyx sands, where a shaman like the one he¡¯d fought would be considered at the very bottom of the pecking order. Monsters at Gold-rank or higher roamed the region, meaning there was a bare minimum level of power Rowan needed to reach before attempting a trip there. He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. Zoe¡¯s voice brought him back to the present. ¡°Are you alright?¡± she asked, tilting her head. ¡°You seem¡­ strained.¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Rowan shook his head, clearing his thoughts. ¡°I had my leg crushed a little bit ago, which wasn¡¯t all that pleasant. But I¡¯m alright.¡± Her gaze flickered down, a faint glow illuminating her eyes. ¡°Hmm, quite the potion,¡± she muttered softly. ¡°Rare quality, if I had to guess.¡± Rowan¡¯s brows rose slightly. She could tell that much? ¡°Anyway,¡± Annie interjected, giving Rowan a meaningful look. ¡°We¡¯re losing daylight, so whatever you need to talk about, make it quick.¡± She leaned closer to him and whispered. ¡°And you still need to meditate. I¡¯d like to leave here sooner rather than later with you capable of throwing something other than a firework.¡± Rowan nodded in agreement. She was right. He¡¯d feel better with some mana in his Core, and on the way back, he wouldn¡¯t need to save it. Zoe adjusted her robe with careful deliberation. She looked a bit younger than him, but straightened herself like she was giving a formal speech. ¡°I will try to be concise,¡± she began. Her voice softened, though her gaze remained steady. ¡°Would it be possible for me to join your team?¡± Chapter 13 - Sideways Rowan frowned in confusion, glancing at Annie and seeing his expression reflected back. Before either of them could say anything, Silvia piped up. ¡°I vote yes.¡± Zoe nodded to the rowdy archer. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said, taking in the rest of the group. ¡°I¡¯ve been in Litwick for a week, and I haven¡¯t been able to find a capable team at the right level of strength. The temple has paired me with a few different parties, but none of them are suitable for what I require.¡± ¡°And that would be?¡± Annie frowned, crossing her arms. She didn¡¯t seem all that enthused by the opportunity, but Rowan found himself curious. Having a healer would be a massive boon. And with the way Zoe had asked, it seemed like she was interested in a more permanent arrangement. Annie¡¯s gruff approach didn¡¯t seem to deter the healer. ¡°Two things,¡± she continued. ¡°Firstly, a smaller group. Between four and six members. More than that and the chance of grievous injury drops significantly.¡± Omi snorted. ¡°You want us to get hurt?¡± Zoe tilted her head. ¡°Not you particularly, no. It doesn''t matter to me who gets injured, as long as I get to rectify it,¡± she looked back at Annie. ¡°And secondly, any team I join needs to contain someone capable of protecting me from harm.¡± ¡°Told you. Sideways.¡± Silvia''s smile widened. ¡°I love it.¡± ¡°I appreciate your vote of confidence,¡± Zoe nodded, seemingly not bothered by being called strange. ¡°Your group fits both of those criteria. You are obviously capable, judging by the amount of dead goblins in this cavern. And having a mage among your number heightens your combat ability to an enviable degree.¡± Nemir stepped closer, his brow squinting in thought. ¡°Having a healer join our group would be a boon,¡± he said, shooting Annie a questioning glance. As much as the swordsman was the de-facto leader of the team, a decision as big as taking in another member wasn¡¯t something he could make on his own. ¡°It would let us take on more dangerous quests,¡± she muttered, rubbing her chin, appraising the white-haired woman. ¡°But we don¡¯t know anything about you. And this isn¡¯t the place for a discussion like this one.¡± Zoe nodded. ¡°What time would be amenable to you?¡± ¡°Are you staying here, or joining us back to the city?¡± Annie asked. ¡°My contract states I am to assist the Steel Fist in completing a quest. With the goblins no longer here, that means helping them with the Stalker nest,¡± she sighed. ¡°Unfortunately, I will be spending the night here.¡± ¡°Alright, then we can have this conversation once we¡¯re all back in the city,¡± Annie said. ¡°That gives us some time to talk among ourselves.¡± Zoe nodded. ¡°Thank you for your consideration.¡± Rowan found himself smiling. There was something strangely disarming about the girl. Like she was in her own little world, unconcerned with anything besides what caught her eye. If she does join us, we¡¯ll be more than qualified to take on Silver-rank quests. And if Nemir advances, we might be one of the strongest teams in the city. Having a mage, a healer, and a warrior with an Aura would allow them to venture deeper into the Wilds. To take on threats that would in turn push the rest of the team closer to advancing. Lost in thought, Rowan didn¡¯t notice as Zoe took a step closer to him, eyeing him with a curious expression. ¡°You are strange,¡± she said, slowly circling him. ¡°Umm, right back at you?¡± He replied, watching the scene in amusement. ¡°I can sense a well of power inside you, yet for some reason, your Core is still infantile,¡± she stopped moving, standing in front of Rowan with an appraising look in her eyes. ¡°Are you incompetent?¡± Omi burst out laughing. ¡°I¡¯m with you Sil. She¡¯s got my vote.¡± Rowan¡¯s eye twitched. I feel like I should be offended. Calling him incompetent had struck a nerve, but she¡¯d said it with such a calm curiosity that Rowan couldn¡¯t help but shake his head. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think I am,¡± he chuckled. ¡°Are you asking because of my age?¡± Zoe nodded. ¡°Yes. Mages usually Awaken earlier than other people. Meaning you had years to advance your Core. So why didn¡¯t you?¡± Her approach might have been disarming, but that didn¡¯t mean he would go spilling his secrets to her. Especially considering how dangerous that knowledge could be. I¡¯m tempted to tell her I¡¯ve only been a mage for less than half a year just to see the look on her face. But that seems like a slight overreaction to being called incompetent. He could see the rest of the team waiting for his answer. Rowan appreciated that none of them had pried into his past, but now that someone else had asked a question, their curiosity was almost palpable. ¡°It¡¯s a long story. One that I don¡¯t feel like telling right now,¡± he said with a small smile. ¡°Suffice it to say, I had my reasons.¡± Zoe listened intently to his answer, taking it in stride. ¡°I would be interested in hearing it when you feel comfortable telling it,¡± she said, giving the team one final glance before walking away to the camp Killian and his team had set up.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Rowan sighed, running a hand through his hair. ¡°She¡¯s infuriatingly sincere.¡± Annie snorted. ¡°Alright, we¡¯ve wasted enough time. How long do you need before you have some mana to throw around?¡± He pulled his focus to his Core. His reserves were at less than a tenth. The potion had been steadily doing its work in the background, but without meditating, it was slow going. ¡°I¡¯ll be good to go in half an hour or so,¡± he said. ¡°We should be able to make it back before nightfall.¡± ¡°Then get to it,¡± she shooed him away. ¡°I¡¯ve had enough of dimly lit caverns for a few weeks. At least.¡± ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am,¡± he saluted, moving away to a quiet corner. Kai flew down, no longer needing to hide. Rowan hadn¡¯t wanted the little bugger to be near in case a fight broke out. He was much more suited to surprise attacks. His familiar settled in his lap, nuzzling his beak into Rowan¡¯s chest. He smiled, lightly stroking his soft feathers and closing his eyes. Meditating wasn¡¯t his favorite thing in the world, but there were some things that made it bearable. . . . The trek back to Litwick was thankfully uneventful. They ran across another pack of Vinesnakes, but with Rowan no longer holding back, it took less than a minute for them to turn into charred corpses. ¡°Well, that was certainly an eventful outing,¡± Nemir said, his broad shoulders finally relaxing as they entered the safety of the city walls. ¡°What¡¯s the plan? Are we turning in the quest right away?¡± ¡°Why wait,¡± Omi shrugged. ¡°Might as well get it done with.¡± ¡°Do all of us need to go?¡± Silvia grumbled, raising an arm, wincing as she took a sniff. ¡°I¡¯m sweaty, smelly, and covered in blood. What I want is a nice relaxing bath, and a tall glass of something strong.¡± ¡°I¡¯m with her,¡± Annie said, wiping the dust from her face. ¡°You boys can take care of it. We¡¯re gonna go get cleaned up,¡± she put her arm around Sil¡¯s shoulders, walking away before the three of them could protest. Kai flew after them, landing on Annie¡¯s shoulder and shaking his wings. Silvia immediately started scratching his beak, and the three of them left. Omi watched them go with a frown, staring down at his tattered appearance, his leather armor scratched up and bloody. ¡°Can I¡­?¡± he asked, glancing at Nemir. The swordsman sighed. ¡°Sure,¡± he glanced at Rowan. ¡°What about you?¡± Rowan shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ll go with you,¡± he smirked. ¡°Who knows who you¡¯ll piss off without someone to keep you in check.¡± Omi snorted. ¡°Try not to get yourselves killed,¡± he waved, walking away. Nemir frowned, crossing his arms. ¡°I still think we shouldn¡¯t have needed to pay them off,¡± he muttered. ¡°The Guild exists for a reason. Letting quests expire should be discouraged, not rewarded.¡± ¡°It¡¯s just gold,¡± Rowan said as they made their way towards the Guild Hall. ¡°It isn¡¯t about the gold,¡± Nemir muttered. Rowan sighed. ¡°I didn¡¯t like it any more than you did,¡± he said, eyeing the swordsman. ¡°It felt suspiciously close to losing. And I think neither of us enjoy that.¡± Nemir grimaced. ¡°Exactly.¡± He clenched his fist. ¡°If I had my Aura, that wouldn¡¯t have happened.¡± Rowan wasn¡¯t so sure that was true. He¡¯d been there, and Killian hadn¡¯t hesitated. Even when there was a mage involved. Having a Silver-rank on top of that would have probably cut down on the amount they gave him, but Rowan doubted it¡¯d cut it down to zero. ¡°Don¡¯t beat yourself up over it,¡± Rowan said, rummaging through his pockets, and pulling out a handful of silver coins. He threw them into a hat in front of a youth performing on the street, skillfully plucking away at the strings of a lyre. The boy¡¯s eyes widened in surprise at the amount, and he muttered a quick thank you. ¡°It¡¯s just how things work here,¡± Rowan said as they continued further into the city, the smell of freshly cooked meat hitting their noses. His stomach rumbling. ¡°Annie didn¡¯t look angry, she looked more annoyed. Which definitely wouldn¡¯t have been the case if they¡¯d been doing something really untoward,¡± he said, walking around a bickering pair of merchants. Both were selling basic healing potions¡ªwhich were the equivalent of throwing a mildly effective herb into boiling water. The amount of impurities in them meant the cooldown between uses was around a month. A substantial difference from the one week that Omi now needed to wait, and an even larger difference between the one day Rowan would need to. They were capable of dealing with superficial wounds, while the higher-grade potions healed wounds like the one Rowan suffered with ease. But Litwick wasn¡¯t exactly filled with skilled alchemists. Or blacksmiths. Or really any profession of note. So potions like these ones ended up in use more often than they should have. There weren¡¯t many adventurers that risked venturing into the Wilds with an active cooldown. Meaning that at any given moment, a number of them were out of commission. Nemir sighed. ¡°You¡¯re right. But I don¡¯t have to like it.¡± ¡°No, you don¡¯t.¡± Rowan chuckled. ¡°It¡¯ll even out. Pretty soon, you¡¯ll be a Silver-rank too, and then you get to throw your weight around,¡± he smirked, nudging him with his shoulder. ¡°So enough righteous indignation. We have more important things to talk about.¡± Nemir laughed, his posture relaxing. ¡°Let¡¯s hope so.¡± A hungry expression crossed his face¡ªone Rowan recognized all too well. ¡°It was right there.¡± Nemir whispered. ¡°At the end, when I deflected its last strike.¡± His eyes closed, his tone softening as if he were reliving the moment. ¡°I¡¯ve been pushing at this mountain for years, even before I Awakened. But during that fight, I finally felt something give.¡± Nemir rarely opened up like this. Over the past few months, Rowan had suspected the swordsman came from nobility¡ªhis bearing and discipline hinted at it¡ªbut he¡¯d never outright said so. This all but confirmed it. ¡°Which one are you going for?¡± Rowan asked. It could be Vigor, he thought. Nemir certainly has the stature for it. Rowan¡¯s gaze swept over his companion. He himself was taller than most, but he still had to crane his head upwards to look at Nemir. Being tall and broad helped with Vigor because there was simply more to work with. It made understanding the Concept easier¡ªmore tangible¡ªbecause the body itself became the foundation of power. It probably isn¡¯t Haste, he decided. While Nemir was quick for his size, besides Rowan, he was the slowest member of their team. It¡¯s probably Might, Rowan concluded. That¡¯s what the hobgoblin had. Fighting against it is what led to his breakthrough. Might was straightforward but deceptively complex. To comprehend it, a warrior needed to have complete mastery over their body. But more than that, they needed to embody it. To be Mighty, in the truest sense of the word. Nemir¡¯s fight against the hobgoblin wasn¡¯t just a clash of strength but a test of refinement. Rowan had grown up surrounded by warriors who had mastered their Aura¡¯s. Even as a child, he¡¯d become familiar with their weight. Each one was distinct in its own way. Yet, as different as they were, all of them originated from the same three root Concepts: Strength, Dexterity, and Vitality. Manifesting an Aura outside the body wasn¡¯t natural. It required not only incredible control, but also an immense willpower. To shape an Aura around a blade, spear, or even bow meant treating the weapon as an extension of the self. It wasn¡¯t enough to swing harder or faster. The wielder had to connect their Intent to the Concept they were chasing. Rowan¡¯s father had once described it as trying to paint on water¡ªimpossible, until you understood the medium. ¡°Might,¡± Nemir said, his voice cutting through Rowan¡¯s reminiscing. ¡°It was always going to be the path I followed.¡± He smiled faintly, glancing at his friend. ¡°Might suits you,¡± Rowan said. ¡°It¡¯s steady, reliable. A shield, and a hammer.¡± Nemir nodded, his expression distant but determined. ¡°I¡¯ll get there,¡± he said. ¡°Sooner rather than later.¡± Rowan felt his own desire for advancement flare up. He¡¯d been avoiding it. Pushing it off in favor of either exploring the Wilds, or mastering his spells in the Plateau. Working on his Core for the next week would be dull and monotonous, but it was time to get it done. The five levels he¡¯d get for advancing to Orange would certainly prove useful, though they were secondary to gaining another affinity. His fight against the shaman had left him closer to death than he¡¯d care to admit. And if at all possible, dying was something Rowan wanted to avoid. There was only one way to make sure of that. Tomorrow, he decided. No stopping until I¡¯m done. It had already been a long day, and with the sun setting, Rowan was feeling exhaustion slowly creeping in. After a good night¡¯s rest, he¡¯d get started. But there was something else they needed to do first. They uncovered which tribe was moving into the region, and that was a piece of information the Guild would definitely want to know. His feet dragged as they walked through the streets, making their way to the Guild Hall. When they reached it, Rowan pushed open the heavy doors, walking into the rowdy tavern. Chapter 14 - Rewards The Guild Hall was customarily full. The din of laughter, clinking mugs, and raised voices filled the air. Rowdy adventurers occupied most of the tables, their weapons leaning against the walls or resting within easy reach. Swords and spears were the most common, but Rowan saw more than a few stranger choices. His eyes caught a pair of intricately braided whips coiled neatly beside a table, a hefty warhammer leaning against it, more suited to smashing boulders than monsters. Still, the mountain of a man beside it looked more than capable of wielding it. The aroma of roasted meat and spiced ale mingled with the faint tang of sweat and steel. Serving staff weaved deftly between tables, balancing trays of food and drink. A few adventurers were already deep in their cups, their laughter booming above the general noise, while others pored over quest boards or bartered loudly amongst themselves. Rowan and Nemir stepped inside. ¡°Are we grabbing a drink?¡± Nemir asked, looking around for a free table. Rowan liked that idea. In fact, he liked it a lot. After the day they had, something strong and stiff sounded perfect. ¡°Let¡¯s deal with the quest first,¡± he said, nodding towards the counter where a Guild attendant sat. ¡°I¡¯d rather get it out of the way. Then we can go and have one.¡± ¡°Or two,¡± Nemir smirked, bumping him with his elbow. Rowan chuckled. ¡°Or two.¡± There were three Guild attendants working at this hour, with two of them occupied by other groups. They made their way to a stern-looking woman sitting behind a massive slab of oak, her brown hair tied into a no-nonsense braid. She was sorting through a stack of papers, her quill moving with skilled precision. Her sharp eyes flicked up as they approached, taking in their roughed-up armor and mud-stained boots. ¡°What can I do for you?¡± she asked, casually setting her papers aside. Nemir rummaged through his coat, pulling out the flier they took off the quest board earlier today, placing it in front of her. ¡°We¡¯ve completed this quest,¡± he said. ¡°The Crimson Grove.¡± The attendant nodded, taking the piece of paper and quickly reading through it. ¡°Proof?¡± ¡°About that,¡± Rowan said, dropping the pouch of goblin fangs on the table with a soft thud. ¡°The quest was a bit wrong about the number of monsters. We¡¯d like to have it re-evaluated.¡± The woman¡¯s eyes narrowed, untying the string and looking inside. ¡°Hmm,¡± she muttered, pouring the contents of the bag onto a tray and separating them into smaller piles. ¡°Thirty-eight¡­ forty-two¡­ forty-four.¡± When she was done, she looked back up at them, a small smile on her face. ¡°A bit, he says,¡± she chuckled. ¡°It seems your team had quite the day. Thirty-five lesser goblins, Bronze-rank, Nine normal goblins, Iron-rank, and a hobgoblin to boot.¡± With the fangs they gave to Killian, that was a bit off, but this next part would make up for it. Rowan returned her smile. ¡°There¡¯s one more thing.¡± He looked around, making sure no one was watching before pulling out the shaman¡¯s Core. A piece of cloth covered it, concealing the faint, orange light that filled it. Rowan guessed there was less than a tenth of the shaman''s Earth mana left inside, and around a quarter of the Wind mana. It wasn¡¯t anything special as far as Core¡¯s went, but it was one nonetheless. The attendant slowly unfurled the cloth, her eyes widening at the sight. She quickly covered it up, glancing at Rowan with an appraising gaze. ¡°A shaman,¡± she said slowly. ¡°And a hobgoblin.¡± She closed her eyes, letting out a long, drawn-out sigh. ¡°Well, shit.¡± Rowan barely suppressed a laugh. ¡°I¡¯m guessing you¡¯ll up the quest to Silver?¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah, of course,¡± she muttered absentmindedly. ¡°It would have been Silver III with just the hobgoblin, but with a shaman thrown in the mix, I think Silver V is more appropriate.¡± Opening a drawer, the attendant cleaned up her table, putting away the goblin fangs. She carefully picked up the Core, placing it next to them before closing it back up. The faint glow of enchantments flared to life as it locked. She took a moment, doing calculations in her head. ¡°Thirty gold for the lesser goblins, fifty for the Iron-ranks, and two-fifty for the hobgoblin.¡± That seems fair, Rowan thought. ¡°What about the Core?¡± he asked. ¡°Someone will need to appraise it, but it shouldn¡¯t go below five hundred. Depending on how intact it is, you might get up to a thousand.¡± Rowan glanced at Nemir. ¡°A thousand gold for a day''s work,¡± he smiled. ¡°Not bad.¡± He chuckled. ¡°The rest of the team is going to be thrilled.¡± ¡°And you¡¯re looking at another five hundred from the quest reward,¡± the attendant pointed out, throwing away the old flier and quickly writing out a new one. This time with the correct information. After skimming it over, she nodded to herself, stamped it, and placed it in another drawer." The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Would you like it deposited into your party¡¯s account, or to withdraw it?¡± ¡°Could you transfer fifty of that over to the Steel Fist? A Silver-rank by the name of Killian is the leader,¡± he asked. ¡°And keeping it in the account is fine.¡± They made a deal, and just because Rowan didn¡¯t like it didn¡¯t mean he wouldn¡¯t do it. The attendant arched an eyebrow, glancing at him with a knowing expression. ¡°Just fifty?¡± she asked. ¡°Yes, just fifty.¡± Rowan smiled. She stood up and moved to the back wall, pulling out folders filled with what Rowan assumed were party compositions, looking for Killian¡¯s team. ¡°That¡¯s a good haul,¡± Nemir said, a satisfied expression on his face. ¡°It should come out to three hundred gold per person. More than enough for everyone to buy the equipment they need.¡± ¡°What about you?¡± Rowan asked. ¡°My gear is adequate for now. I¡¯m probably going to buy a skill manual instead.¡± He nodded. ¡°Pushing something to Proficient?¡± ¡°Actually, I was thinking of trying to advance [Crescent Strike].¡± Rowan¡¯s eyes widened a fraction. ¡°Really? Over [Greatsword Mastery]?¡± It was surprising that Nemir was trying to advance a skill to Expert at such a low level. Most warriors got their first one well on their way to Gold, at Silver III or above. Going for it at Iron V was an impressive feat. ¡°I won¡¯t need a manual for that one,¡± he said, a cocky expression on his face. Rowan laughed. ¡°That¡¯s the spirit.¡± ¡°And you?¡± the swordsman asked, casually leaning against the table. ¡°What does a mage spend his gold on?¡± ¡°Plenty of things,¡± Rowan shrugged, watching the attendant as she rummaged through her files. ¡°Spells are expensive, and potions don¡¯t come cheap either.¡± What he said was definitely true. Acquiring spells was a problem all mages faced. It was the reason most ended up in the employ of the various noble houses. Knowledge was a resource, and gaining it wasn''t always simple. But that didn¡¯t apply to him. The Vault held tomes for every tier one affinity, mostly Whispers and Murmurs, but there was a single Chant-level spell for each. Just one of those alone was worth thousands of gold¡ªa number most people born outside the nobility didn¡¯t have access to. And that¡¯s just inside the first chamber, he thought. I¡¯m sure Ode¡¯s and Epic¡¯s are deeper in. I just need to get strong enough to get them. ¡°Potions, yes,¡± Nemir said, throwing a knowing glance toward his ring. ¡°Would you be willing to sell a few? Rare potions are hard to come by out here.¡± He waved him off. ¡°I¡¯ll just give everyone a few. Honestly, I should have done that already.¡± Nemir¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Are you sure? That¡¯s a¡­ substantial gift.¡± It really wasn¡¯t, but explaining that would just lead to more questions, ones Rowan still didn¡¯t feel like addressing. ¡°A shorter healing cooldown means less downtime. Which means more quests,¡± he shrugged. ¡°A few potions seems like a small price to pay for that.¡± Nemir frowned. ¡°We¡¯d need to compensate you for them. It just wouldn¡¯t feel right not giving anything in return. Maybe we can revisit how we distribute quest rewards?¡± he sighed. ¡°You¡¯re already taking a much smaller cut than you could be getting. As a mage, you could go to any team and ask for half, and they¡¯d jump over one another for an opportunity to accept.¡± Rowan had an urge to roll his eyes but decided against it. Pride was a prickly thing, and simply dismissing it wouldn¡¯t solve the underlying issue. ¡°Here¡¯s the thing,¡± he said, clasping the burly swordsman on the shoulder. ¡°We¡¯re a team, right?¡± Nemir nodded. ¡°Yes, but that doesn''t¡ª¡± Rowan stopped him, raising a hand. ¡°That¡¯s all there is to it. My goal is to get stronger, the same as yours. Helping you helps me. And besides, I¡¯m not going to lose sleep over a few healing potions, no matter their rarity. Trust me.¡± I could give everyone in this city a dozen of them and I wouldn¡¯t even feel it, he thought, keeping the specifics to himself. The attendant returned a few moments later, a file in her hand. ¡°It¡¯s done. Your deposit will reflect the updated amount shortly,¡± she said. Her stern expression softened slightly. ¡°And good work out there. Encountering a hobgoblin would be too much for most Iron-ranked teams, let alone a shaman. Keep it up.¡± Nemir nodded, accepting the compliment with a small smile. ¡°There was one more thing,¡± he said, pulling out the piece of cloth with the goblin tribe¡¯s sigil sewn into it. ¡°We think this may be the tribe moving into the region.¡± The attendant frowned as she took the cloth. ¡°Red Fangs,¡± she muttered, shaking her head. ¡°Would one of you be willing to speak to someone about what you encountered? Any information you have might prove useful.¡± ¡°Go ahead and grab us a table,¡± Nemir said, accepting the task. ¡°I¡¯ll speak with them. Shouldn¡¯t take long.¡± Rowan let out a sigh of relief. Recounting the fight was the last thing he wanted to do right now. ¡°Be quick about it,¡± he said with a grin, clapping Nemir on the shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure there¡¯s a drink waiting for you when you get back.¡± Rowan left Nemir to his task and went to find a table. It took longer than he would have liked. The Guild Hall buzzed with activity, adventurers either reveling in their wins or trying to forget their losses. Eventually, he spotted one tucked into a quiet corner and made his way over. A server appeared almost as soon as Rowan sat down, balancing a tray filled with empty mugs and half-eaten plates. ¡°What¡¯ll it be?¡± he asked. ¡°Two ales, and something warm to eat,¡± Rowan replied, flipping him a silver coin. He gave him a quick nod, disappearing into the bustling crowd. . . . Nemir returned just as the server arrived with their drinks, setting the mugs down with practiced ease. He sank into the seat opposite Rowan, his expression thoughtful but not tense. ¡°They¡¯re taking it seriously,¡± Nemir said, lifting his mug with a faint smile. ¡°To surviving another day.¡± Rowan raised his own in reply, the faint clink of their mugs cutting through the din. ¡°I¡¯ll drink to that.¡± They drank deeply, the bitter taste lingering as it warmed them from within. ¡°Did they say anything new?¡± Rowan asked, leaning back in his chair. Nemir nodded. ¡°They¡¯ve been keeping tabs on the Red Fangs for a while. We¡¯re the first team to bring in proof, but they were on the short list of candidates for what tribe it might have been,¡± he sighed. ¡°Knowing doesn''t change all that much. We¡¯re still in for a Monster Surge.¡± Nemir¡¯s lips thinned. ¡°And it isn¡¯t just here. The Guild¡¯s been noticing similar patterns across the kingdom. They¡¯re stretched thin already. If this keeps escalating, cities like Litwick are going to be in serious trouble.¡± Rowan mulled that over in silence, sipping his drink. A Monster Surge wasn¡¯t a problem they could deal with. In fact, it wasn¡¯t a problem anyone could deal with. The Wilds were massive, and when something managed to get through the Walls, it caused a chain reaction. ¡°Not much we can do besides get stronger,¡± he said. Nemir grunted in agreement, setting his mug down. ¡°Which brings us to the next topic¡ªZoe.¡± Rowan smirked. ¡°I was wondering when you¡¯d bring her up.¡± ¡°What do you think of her?¡± he asked, his brows furrowed in thought. He didn¡¯t have to think long about his answer. ¡°She¡¯d be a massive boon to the team,¡± he said, resting his elbows on the table. ¡°Having a healer would open up a lot of opportunities for us. Better quests, tougher opponents, deeper expeditions into the Wilds. And from what little we¡¯ve seen, she seems competent.¡± Nemir nodded. ¡°I agree. But there¡¯s a risk too. We don¡¯t know her well. And healers¡­ well, you know how they can get.¡± ¡°She called me incompetent,¡± Rowan pointed out. ¡°That was rude and uncalled for.¡± Nemir laughed. ¡°I don¡¯t think she called you incompetent. She just asked you if you were.¡± ¡°That might be even worse,¡± Rowan grumbled. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll forgive her after she saves your life a few dozen times,¡± Nemir said, taking a sip of his drink. ¡°She¡¯ll definitely make us stronger. If we¡¯re careful and set the right expectations, I think she¡¯ll fit right in. Besides,¡± he added with a wry smile. ¡°Sil and Omi already seem to like her. That¡¯s half the battle right there.¡± Rowan chuckled, nodding. ¡°True enough. And Annie¡¯s practical. She¡¯ll come around once she weighs the benefits.¡± They drank again, letting the conversation drift to lighter topics. The tension from the day¡¯s events finally started to ebb, leaving a sense of comfortable camaraderie in its place. . . . The walk back to the house was quiet, the streets of Litwick dimly lit by flickering lanterns. Most shops were closed for the night, the people spending their evenings either at home or in one of the many taverns the city had. Rowan let his mind drift as he approached the modest estate he was renting. He paused at the door, glancing up at the stars. Zoe might be just what we need, he thought. A healer would make us stronger¡ªenough to face bigger threats, take on higher-ranked quests. Allow us to push ourselves to the limit. But strength didn¡¯t come cheap. Rowan stayed in the entryway, leaning against the wall. He closed his eyes, focusing on the faint hum of his Core. It¡¯s time, he thought. I¡¯ve been putting it off long enough. The soft red glow of his Core felt like a promise¡ªand a challenge. Advancing to Orange would be the first real step Rowan took to achieving his goals. It was the key to his survival. To strength. To the answers he was chasing. No stopping until I¡¯m done, he resolved. Tomorrow, the real work began. Chapter 15 - A Week Well Spent Rowan sat under a tall oak, his legs crossed atop a worn cushion, his back resting against the rough bark. The soft rustle of leaves above him and the distant chirping of birds were his only companions. His other one deciding he had better things to do than watch him sit still. Kai had left him to his devices over the last two days. Two days of mind-numbing boredom, interrupted only by his steady progress.
Core: Red [74%] ¡ú Core: Red [83%]
He smiled to himself, giddy despite the monotony. All that much closer to getting a second affinity. For someone starved of magic for so long, finally wielding it felt intoxicating. Like a child with a new toy, he was reluctant to put it down. He¡¯d already decided on Wind. Fire, his first affinity, provided all the offense he needed for now. It was raw power, destructive and unyielding¡ªa perfect sword. What he needed next was a shield. Wind, Earth, and Water could all fit that role in different ways, but the latter two relied on barriers¡ªreactive defenses like [Earthen Dome] or [Swirling Vortex]. Rowan didn¡¯t want to be stuck in one place, hiding behind walls. A mage needed speed to survive, and Wind offered just that. Movement abilities like [Windwalk] and [Tailwind] would let him control the battlefield, positioning himself where his spells would be most effective. That was why he¡¯d invested so heavily in Dexterity. Most mages funneled everything into Intelligence and Willpower to boost their mana pool and recovery, but Rowan¡¯s stats were naturally higher. His heritage wasn¡¯t just for show. Being descended from a long line of very powerful people left its mark.
Name: Rowan Undomniel Athlain
Title: [Duke of Eiselyth]
Trait: [Immortal Soul]
Core: Red [83%] [5 Levels]
Affinity: Fire
Body: Bronze I [1 Level]
Level: 6
Strength: 14
Dexterity: 25
Vitality: 20
Intelligence: 30
Willpower: 22
Focus: 17
His stats were more than three times higher than average. And while that didn¡¯t make all that much difference in the grand scheme of things, at his level, it was a major boon. Twenty-five Dexterity for a mage of his advancement was absurd, and Wind would allow him to push that advantage further, letting him outpace warriors at Iron, and even challenge Silver-ranks. After what happened in the cave, that was a comfort he wanted to have. Even at full strength, Rowan wasn¡¯t sure he¡¯d have been able to handle Killian. Having Wind¡¯s mobility would go a long way towards changing that. And it wasn¡¯t just Wind¡¯s immediate usefulness that drew him in. Rowan was thinking ahead¡ªto the tier-two affinity it would let him pursue: Lightning. It wasn¡¯t a widespread school of magic. Few could afford the cost, whether in mana, coin, or personal risk. Lighting was quick, unpredictable, and lethally powerful¡ªa combination that had claimed more than a few reckless mages. It was exactly what Rowan needed. Mastering [Fireball] would take care of raw power for now, but Wind would cover speed. If someone¡ªor something¡ªlike Killian got close during a real fight, Rowan would be ready. He sighed, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. Dwelling on that had the tendency to put him in a foul mood. But for what he was doing, he needed focus. The sunlight filtering through the branches above cast shifting shadows on his face, soothing in their simplicity. Rowan adjusted his position against the tree, his cushion softening the rough edges of hours spent sitting on it. Looking inward, he followed the flow of his channels as they twisted and turned throughout his body, all leading to a spot just below his stomach. In his mind¡¯s eye, his Core burned with a soft red glow¡ªa definite improvement over where it had been when he started, but still far from Orange. Alright. Let¡¯s get started, he thought, focusing his Intent. Willing his Core to grow. The familiar pressure settled over him like an invisible weight, but it passed almost instantly. Rowan smiled. His Trait allowed him to do something no other mage could. Advance, seemingly endlessly. The soul strain that stopped others not affecting him in the slightest. Most mages advanced their Core in slow, steady increments. Half an hour a day of focused meditation was considered safe, and an hour, manageable. Rowan was doing twenty. A schedule that would have been suicidal for anyone but him. His [Immortal Soul] took the stress in stride, barely acknowledging it. In theory, he could have advanced within a month if he¡¯d committed entirely. But that would have meant no time to master spells, and while Core growth was crucial, spells were far more practical¡ªand infinitely more fun. Not to mention that after just two days of intense focus, Rowan was already feeling the effects.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Not physically. Twenty Vitality made it so that forty hours of sitting didn¡¯t make him exhausted, but mentally, he was drained. The excitement of seeing his Core grow wore off after a few hours, replaced by the sheer monotony of the task. He pushed forward anyways. Grow, Rowan thought, willing his Core to expand. The response was almost imperceptible, a tiny shift in the red light that flickered in his mind¡¯s eye. Barely noticeable. But it was progress. A thousand more of those and he would be done for the day. Grow. Again, his Core responded, straining against his Intent before yielding. The outside world began to fade away¡ªthe rustle of leaves, the warmth of the sun, even the faint ache in his legs. All of it took a step back in favor of the faint pulsing emanating from within him. . . . As the sun slowly began to set, Rowan heard a knock on his door. He blinked open his eyes. Wiping away the drowsiness that had set in. His muscles protested as he stood up, cracking his spine and neck with a low groan. Thank the Gods, he thought, grateful to whoever it was that came to distract him. Right now, he wouldn¡¯t have minded if Killian had come to visit. At least that would have been interesting.
Core: Red [83%] ¡ú Core: Red [86%]
Three percent seemed like such a small reward for the work he¡¯d put in, but Rowan couldn¡¯t complain. Others would kill to be capable of progressing this fast. Looking around, he tried to find his familiar. Kai came and went a dozen times over the last few hours. Most likely terrorizing his neighbors or stealing from those unfortunate enough to leave their meals unattended. Not seeing him, Rowan ran a hand across his shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles. Just because I feel slightly manic doesn''t mean I have to look it. Another knock. This one more incessant. Walking inside, Rowan made his way to the door and opened it. ¡°Took you long enough,¡± Annie muttered, a frustrated scowl on her face. Rowan rolled his eyes. ¡°It¡¯s nice to see you too.¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± she waved him off, making herself at home. Moving to the living room and sitting in his chair. ¡°We have a problem.¡± Rowan frowned, sitting opposite her. ¡°What kind of problem?¡± She sighed, running a hand through her blood-red hair. ¡°Someone at the Guild saw you turning in the Core. Killian found out, and he isn¡¯t happy.¡± ¡°Did he try anything?¡± Rowan asked, his expression hardening. Two days I¡¯m gone, and there¡¯s already another problem. He hoped it wasn¡¯t anything serious. More for the Silver-rank¡¯s case than his own. If he¡¯d hurt one of his friends, Rowan wasn¡¯t opposed to waiting for him in the Wilds. Strong or not, a surprise [Fireball] would quickly deal with the problem. ¡°He didn¡¯t try to fight us, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re asking. He¡¯s not that much of an idiot,¡± Annie said, a smile tugging on her lips. ¡°But he came over to our table last night. Said he wants his share. Plus another ten percent for quote, ¡®Being dishonest¡¯.¡± Rowan clenched his fist. ¡°I¡¯m really hoping you didn¡¯t give it to him.¡± What happened had left a bitter taste in his mouth, and the fact that it was normal and accepted here didn¡¯t make it any sweeter. They already gave him a tidy sum for what was essentially nothing. And if he wanted more, Rowan would have something to say about it. ¡°As if.¡± Annie snorted. ¡°Nemir told him to fuck off.¡± Rowan chuckled, glad that his team thought the same. ¡°I¡¯m guessing he didn¡¯t use that exact turn of phrase?¡± ¡°He might have been a bit more polite,¡± she smirked. ¡°But he got the point across.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± Rowan nodded, already thinking about the implications. ¡°How big of a problem is this going to be? Is there anything he can actually do?¡± She shook her head. ¡°In the city? No, not really.¡± ¡°And outside of it?¡± Rowan asked. Annie glanced at him. ¡°The Wilds are an unpredictable place. It wouldn¡¯t be the first time a team didn¡¯t return from a quest.¡± ¡°Yeah, but would he actually do that? He seemed more opportunistic than anything else. And attacking us seems like a big risk for what¡¯s essentially a few gold.¡± ¡°He would. If the reward was big enough,¡± she said, shooting a poignant look towards his ring. Rowan grimaced. He closed his eyes, thinking about how to play this. Advancing is still the priority. Now more than ever. But even with my [Trait] doing some heavy lifting, that¡¯s still four days away. And I don¡¯t like the thought of my team getting harassed by a greedy Silver-rank in the meantime. He came to a decision. One that should hopefully, if not deal with the problem, postpone it. ¡°Tell him it was my kill,¡± Rowan said. ¡°That should get him off your back.¡± Annie¡¯s brows furrowed in displeasure. ¡°And what does that do besides point him at you?¡± ¡°Nothing,¡± Rowan shrugged. ¡°But it¡¯s going to give him a target. One that doesn''t have any plans on showing itself for a few more days.¡± Annie looked him over, noticing the bags under his eyes. ¡°What are you up to?¡± she asked, leaning forward. Rowan smiled. ¡°I¡¯m working on something.¡± ¡°I hate surprises,¡± she said, poking him in the side. ¡°Spill.¡± He laughed, slapping her hand away. ¡°You¡¯ll find out soon enough. Have some patience.¡± Annie didn¡¯t seem to like that, but before she could voice her displeasure, Rowan stood up. He made his way to the kitchen, taking two glasses and a bottle of barely palatable rum. His Core would still be waiting for him tomorrow. Right now, some pleasant company was exactly what he needed. And with the way things were shaping up, it would be the last bit of fun he¡¯d have for the next few days. . . . The next four days were an exercise in repetition. He pushed away the frustration he felt from Killian¡¯s extortion attempt and the concern that came with having a Silver-rank harassing his friends. There was only one thing that mattered, and that was advancing his Core. The soft red glow had shifted into a rich orange, just a hair¡¯s breadth away from his goal.
Core: Red [97%] ¡ú Core: Red [99%]
It was a heady feeling. Standing on the edge of his next step. Poised to progress on his path. His reserves had grown in tandem with his progression. Making him that much stronger than before. But the increase in mana wasn¡¯t what Rowan was after, even if it was a nice bonus. Closing his eyes, he delved deep into himself for hopefully the last time in a while, his focus drawn to the radiant orb at his center. So close. He grinned. The thought of finally being done spurred him on. Rowan sharpened his Intent, pressing it into his Core. Grow, he intoned, a pressure building from within. Unlike before, a sharp pain shot through his body. Starting from his feet and blitzing its way all the way to the top of his head. Rowan stiffened, a low hiss escaping his lips. He hadn¡¯t been certain what to expect. Rowan had read about advancement and the challenges that came with it. It was just that most of those didn¡¯t apply to him. A shudder went through his Core, cracks forming as his Intent forced it to expand. It was a pain unlike any he¡¯d experienced before. Not in its intensity, but in its weight. Like his very being was being attacked. Rowan gritted his teeth, pushing through it. He didn¡¯t know everything that having an [Immortal Soul] entailed. It certainly sounded grand, but Rowan had never really put it to the test. Until now. More cracks formed, and just as the pain was reaching its crescendo, a faint hum went through his body. It chased away the searing agony like mist being blown away by a soft wind. Leaving nothing but a sense of accomplishment in its wake. The cracks started sealing shut, his Core pushing away the last vestiges of its soft red glow in favor of a pure Orange. The System acknowledged his efforts. A wide grin spread across Rowan¡¯s face as he read the notifications.
Congratulations! You have advanced your Core from [Red], to [Orange]! You have gained [5] levels! You have unlocked a second affinity!
The tension he¡¯d accumulated over the last week bled away. His muscles relaxed, a soft, giddy laugh tearing its way out his throat. ¡°I did it,¡± he muttered, opening his eyes. The smart thing to do would be to let his mind and body rest. This last week had drained him, in more ways than one. But exhaustion wouldn¡¯t stop him. Not now. It was time to learn some Wind magic. Chapter 16 - The Vault Still seated under the tall oak, the first thing Rowan did was pull up his status.
Name: Rowan Undomniel Athlain
Title: [Duke of Eiselyth]
Trait: [Immortal Soul]
Core: Orange [0%] [10 Levels]
Affinity: Fire, [N/A]
Body: Bronze I [1 Level]
Level: 11
Strength: 14
Dexterity: 25
Vitality: 20
Intelligence: 30
Willpower: 22
Focus: 17
Free Points: [25]
The twenty-five points he had to distribute were a definite boon, though they paled in comparison to his other reward. Still, Rowan couldn¡¯t keep the smile off his face Let¡¯s get to it, he thought, his mind already made up. He¡¯d had more than enough time to think this through. But now that it was finally time to actually make a decision, Rowan found himself going over his choices once more. Strength and Focus are out. If I need to punch someone in the face to win a fight, I¡¯m doing something wrong. Fourteen was already high for a mage, and pushing it further felt like a waste. I can mimic Focus with mastery. Putting a few points into it would let me keep an extra [Burning Whip] active, but I¡¯ll get there on my own. Willpower was a strange one. The speed a mage''s mana recovered was directly tied to how fast he was able to learn spells. Talent was at play there too, for sure. But it still took thousands of casts to fully master a difficult spell, and being able to perform more of those in a day was a bottleneck all mages dealt with. Well, except for Rowan. His trait, combined with the mana potions in the Vault made mana an abundant resource. It took him half an hour to fully refill his reserves. Cutting that down by a few minutes didn¡¯t seem necessary. That left Dexterity, Vitality, and Intelligence. All three of them important in their own way. Those he couldn¡¯t ignore. I¡¯ll focus on Intelligence, he decided. Having more mana to work with is never a bad idea. Especially now that I¡¯ll have a whole other affinity to play with. Wanting to get to it as soon as possible, Rowan put fifteen of his twenty-five stat points into Intelligence. The change was immediate. His Core didn¡¯t grow any larger, that wasn¡¯t what Intelligence did. What it did was compress his mana, allowing more of it to fit inside. Rowan looked inward, directing his focus towards his reserves. A solid fifty percent increase, he thought excitedly, a wide smile on his face. If he fought the shaman as he was right now, Rowan doubted that the fight would end with him running empty. It was a tremendous increase in power, but he wasn¡¯t done yet. He still had ten more points to distribute. His first instinct was to dump all ten of those into Dexterity. Healing potions were usually enough to keep him alive. And with Zoe most likely joining their team, Vitality seemed like the least important of the three. However, that would have been a mistake. Rowan didn¡¯t need to be able to survive multiple deadly attacks. But what he did need was to be able to survive one. Once again, he was reminded of his duel. Particularly, how it ended. If his Vitality had been any lower, the injury and subsequent blood loss might have been enough to drop him unconscious. Something that would have most definitely led to his death. Vitality was quiet. It didn¡¯t let him break rocks with his bare hands, or run faster than a human had any right too. But that didn¡¯t make it any less important. In the end, Rowan decided to split the difference. Five into both. That seems alright. Without hesitation, he confirmed his choice. A warm sensation engulfed him, his body changing as the System did its work. It lasted barely a second. Short enough that Rowan might have thought he¡¯d imagined it. But that couldn¡¯t have been further from the truth. He looked over the changes.
Name: Rowan Undomniel Athlain
Title: [Duke of Eiselyth]
Trait: [Immortal Soul]
Core: Orange [0%] [10 Levels]
Affinity: Fire, [N/A]
Body: Bronze I [1 Level]
Level: 11
Strength: 14
Dexterity: 25 ¡ú 30
Vitality: 20 ¡ú 25
Intelligence: 30 ¡ú 45
Willpower: 22
Focus: 17
Free Points: [0]
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Standing up, he immediately felt the difference. It was the most noticeable after affixing. Especially at lower ranks. Five points may not seem like a whole lot, but right now, Rowan was twenty percent faster than he was just moments ago. He had an urge to test himself. To rush towards the biggest, baddest opponent he could find and examine his newfound strength. A certain Silver-rank came to mind. But not yet. There¡¯s still one more thing I need to do. Leaving the shade of the tree he¡¯d spent the last week under, Rowan made his way inside. He wanted to be laying down for this next part, and his couch looked perfect for the job. After getting comfortable, he once again closed his eyes. Only this time, instead of sending his perception into himself, Rowan directed it towards the ring on his finger. Just advancing wasn¡¯t enough to gain a second affinity. To do that, he needed a catalyst. One that he would hopefully find in the Vault. He couldn¡¯t wait to see the changes his tier-up had brought, and with a lurching sensation, Rowan appeared in a grand hall. He wasn¡¯t actually there. His body was still in Litwick, sprawled out on the couch. It was his spirit that had moved. The Vault was so much more than just a storage device. It was a Masterwork. Created by an ancestor of his more than a millennia ago. Archmage Ryoma Athlain, the Wanderer, he recalled. He was a White-Core mage with the tier four-affinity Link, and he¡¯d used it to create a bloodline treasure that surpassed all others of its type, quantifiably. The System recognized it as a Masterwork, and it showed. The ring on his finger wasn¡¯t the actual Vault, no more than a gate was a castle. That was what made it special. It held more than a thousand high-grade storage rings could have, and it was completely unnoticeable. To anyone else, it was a plain stone ring. Even Archmages weren¡¯t capable of seeing through it. They might know what it was, but that wasn¡¯t enough to crack it. To use it, you needed a Link. One only members of his family had. The combined wealth of a Great House¡ªaccumulated through centuries¡ªlocked away behind a bloodline spanning just as long. If someone particularly strong asked him for the ring, he could even give it away. It would come back to him sooner rather than later, the soul-bond making sure of that. Spiritually, the Vault was as light as a feather. Soul-bonding was usually done to treasured heirlooms, to weapons that a person would use for a lifetime. There was only a certain number of those a spirit could handle, but the Vault barely affected that. After all, it was just a ring. Rowan looked around, his eyes immediately drawn to a massive door inlaid into the opposite wall. Stone carvings adjourned its side, with beasts of all kinds battling towards the top. It was one of seven in the room. The one to its left was already opened, a large ruby shining brightly overhead. There were six more to its right, their gemstones dull. But Rowan¡¯s gaze was focused on the door in front of him. A perfectly cut topaz glowing softly above. Advancing in rank granted him access to more of his inheritance. A portion of it that would hopefully be better than the basic equipment offered behind the first door. Not wasting any time, Rowan stepped closer. The massive stone slabs trembled as they opened outwards, revealing a large room. His eyes scanned the room, marveling at what he saw. Rows upon rows of enchanted weapons filled the wall to his left. From daggers to battle axes, and everything in between. The subtle gleam of enchantments adorning them. To his right, there were armors of all kinds. Heavy imperial warplate next to lightweight leather. But the central wall drew his attention. Rowan made his way closer, his fingers brushing across the various rings, amulets, and other protective gear. Each piece was rare or above, something a Silver-rank wouldn¡¯t be ashamed to have.
Name: Ring of Minor Wind Barrier
Grade: Rare
Enchantment: [Wind Barrier]
If Rowan had to guess, it was worth more than what they made from the goblin quest. He slipped it on, grinning as another appeared from nothing to take its place. There were enough of them here to outfit a legion. And as he looked around the room, taking in everything it had to offer, Rowan felt a sense of awe overtake him. This was on a whole other level when compared to the first chamber. That held basic weapons¡ªfinely made, but mundane nonetheless. Enchantments were different. A skilled blacksmith was needed to work the materials, carving runes, while an enchanter Imbued them with an Intent. His eyes moved towards the center of the wall, where his real prize stood. Four separate bookshelves dominated it. The only similarity between the two rooms. Each one was a masterpiece of craftsmanship carved from different types of wood. The first one was a rich, crimson mahogany. Its grain shimmering faintly as though embers smoldered just beneath the surface. The tomes it held grew in thickness the further up he looked. There were three of them on the third shelf, and Rowan recognized one binding immediately. How could he not? He¡¯d spent hours poring over it. [Fireball] was a spell he¡¯d been working on for weeks. It was the only Chant-level Fire spell he¡¯d had access to. Till now, at least. A sudden need to pour over all of them nearly overwhelmed him. But he held himself back, his gaze instead locked on the spell tome at the top, alongside a full Fire affinity Core. It was larger than all the rest, and it wasn¡¯t just for show. ¡°A Hymn,¡± Rowan muttered, carefully grabbing the book, almost reverently tracing the cover.
Cinderstorm, Hymn-level. A spell that brings ruin through a cascading wave of Fire. Cinderstorm engulfs the battlefield in rolling waves of flame, each pulse growing in intensity as it spreads outward. The spell is relentless, consuming all in its path with fiery vengeance. Its strength lies in its ability to overwhelm defenses, reducing even fortified positions to ash. The spell draws heavily on the caster¡¯s mana reserves. Making it a devastating, if costly opener. Mastery requires not just power, but foresight, as once unleashed, nothing short of another Hymn will stop it. Note. Do not take this spell lightly. Miscasting it isn¡¯t a mistake most get to learn from.
He set it back, his hands shaking. ¡°That¡¯s going to be fun,¡± he muttered, grinning from ear to ear. To the right of it was a shelf made of smooth, pale-blue ashwood, seeming to ripple under the dim light. It had the same layout as the first one. Whisper and Murmur-level spells at the bottom, three Chant¡¯s on top, and a single Hymn to draw it all together. Earth magic was on the next one. Built from rugged, dark brown oak. Its surface was rough to the touch, as though carved directly from an ancient tree. Finally, he reached the shelf he was looking for. It was crafted from pale, silvery birchwood. The grains themselves seeming to dance as if caught in an unseen breeze. He picked up one of the Chant-level tomes, opening it and reading through the first page.
[Cyclone Stride], Chant-level. A spell that transforms the caster¡¯s movements into a blur of wind and fury. Cyclone Stride enhances the caster¡¯s speed to an extraordinary degree, leaving trails of wind in their wake that tear at nearby enemies. Each step carries a burst of kinetic energy, allowing the caster to strike with devastating force or evade incoming attacks effortlessly. While unparalleled in mobility, the spell requires precision. Without discipline, the caster risks losing control of their movements, causing collateral damage¡ªor worse. Note. Speed without control is a disaster waiting to happen.
This was exactly what he¡¯d been looking for. A way for him to leverage his magic in order to deal with one of his weaknesses. Namely, being slower than things that wanted to kill him. But mastering a Wind based Chant-level spell wasn¡¯t going to happen anytime soon. He would need to work up to it, but thankfully, there were other options for him to choose from. Rowan picked out a spell from a shelf below, nodding as he read.
[Tailwind], Murmur-level. A spell that bestows the gift of speed, carried by the wind¡¯s favor. When cast, [Tailwind] enhances the movement speed of the caster by a tremendous amount. The effect is akin to running with a strong wind at your back, one that molds itself to your movements, making every step faster and lighter. It is useful in battles when quick repositioning is key. Though beware, the sudden increase in speed can prove disorienting. Note. You¡¯d think combining it with [Whisper Step] would be a good idea. It isn¡¯t.
¡°This is it,¡± he said, closing his eyes, feeling a sense of accomplishment wash over him. There was only one thing he needed to do before he could start learning a whole other school of magic. Rowan reached for the top shelf, scanning the spell¡¯s name. ¡°[Sky Sunder].¡± He whispered. But there was something else next to it. And out of the two, Rowan was more focused on the latter. He grabbed the fist-sized orb.
Name: Mana Core [Wind]
Grade: Epic
Actually acquiring a second affinity was different from advancing. It required a mage to take another mana type into himself. To Imbue it into his Core. And to do that, another Core was needed. Rowan¡¯s grip tightened around the smooth gem. Focusing, he withdrew his spirit from the Vault. He appeared back in his house, still lying on his couch. Only unlike before, there was something in his hands. Something that would make everything he¡¯d been doing for the last week worth it. Chapter 17 - The Second Step Sitting up, Rowan held the Core in front of him, taking a deep breath. The smooth surface glowed faintly, the chaotic swell of Wind mana within it pulsing with a life of its own. He could almost feel its resistance, the raw, untamed Intent ready to put his to the test. With a steadying breath, Rowan began. He drew the mana in. It slowly drained from the Core, and if someone were watching him attempt this, they wouldn¡¯t have seen anything spectacular. But from Rowan¡¯s perspective, things looked¡ªand felt¡ªdifferent. Mana tore through his channels like a tempest, each gust resisting his control. It didn¡¯t want to be absorbed¡ªits own inherent Intent fighting back, wild and unruly. But against the strength of Rowan¡¯s soul, it didn¡¯t stand a chance. He gritted his teeth and pulled harder, forcing the mana to flow through his body. He guided it with precision, channeling it towards his Core, willing it to obey. There, he packed it into every crack and crevice, feeding it into the space left by his advancement. Nearly a minute passed before he drew in enough for it to ignite, and the change was immediate. Rowan¡¯s Core shuddered, the Wind mana fusing with its structure. It was as if a void he hadn¡¯t realized was there had been filled, the missing piece sliding into place with exhilarating precision.
Congratulations! You have gained a second affinity, [Wind]! Core: Orange [0%] ¡ú Core: Orange [18%]
Rowan blinked open his eyes, the emptied Core still in his hand. He turned it over once, then set it aside, his hand trembling slightly. There was a new well of energy inside him now, distinct yet harmonizing with the Fire mana he¡¯d become so familiar with. He let out a loud laugh, the sound echoing through the room. ¡°Well, that¡¯s that done,¡± Rowan muttered softly, the words tinged with disbelief. A weight lifted from his shoulders. One that¡¯d been there from the moment he Awakened. It was more than just progress¡ªit was validation. Proof that he was moving closer to the strength he so desperately needed. His gaze shifted to the ring on his finger. If only you could see me now, he thought, a small, melancholic smile tugging at his lips. He¡¯d come to terms with being born dull, and so had the rest of his family. But he could still see the quiet resignation in his father¡¯s eyes, the subtle disappointment his mother tried so hard to hide. Rowan knew what he was. A disappointment in a lineage of Archmages and Grand Wizards. But now, standing here as an Orange-Core mage, a trait of seemingly unlimited potential, and a Vault overflowing with treasure, Rowan felt a rush of pride. A determined expression spread across his face. ¡°I¡¯ll show them,¡± he vowed. ¡°Even if they¡¯re not here to see it, I¡¯ll make them proud. As long as I¡¯m here, House Athlain still lives.¡± Rowan stood up and stretched, the residual hum of Wind mana coursing through him. It was exhilarating. There was something wild and boundless about it, a stark contrast to the raw, unrelenting heat of Fire. Eighteen percent is good, but twenty would have been better, he thought, brushing off his shirt. Gaining even a single percent would take longer now, and advancing to Yellow would be an uphill battle. But for now, Rowan wasn¡¯t focused on that. He had a new affinity to play with. He stepped back out into the yard, his heart racing with anticipation. The tall oak he¡¯d spent the last week under still stood in stoic silence, its branches swaying in the gentle breeze. High up on one of the boughs, Kai had returned. His familiar perched elegantly, pruning his feathers with quick movements. ¡°Decided to finally show up, did you?¡± Rowan called, his voice light with amusement. Kai paused, tilting his head as he looked back at him. With an excited trill, he flew down from the tree, gliding towards him. He landed on his shoulder, nuzzling his beak against Rowan¡¯s cheek. ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Rowan said, grinning. ¡°You¡¯re looking at an Orange-Core mage.¡± Kai puffed himself up, spreading his wings wide and letting out a loud squawk. ¡°Doesn''t matter. I¡¯m a higher level than you now.¡± Rowan smirked, quickly scanning his familiar.
Level: 11
Body: Iron III [11 Levels]
Core: N/A
¡°Huh?¡± he muttered, the wind draining from his sails. ¡°When did that happen?¡± Kai glanced at him, somehow managing to look smug. He jumped off his shoulder a moment later, flying back up to his perch. But even his familiar out-leveling him couldn¡¯t dampen Rowan¡¯s mood. He reached inward, focusing on the new well of energy within him.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Wind mana felt¡­ different. It wasn¡¯t the searing, commanding force of Fire. But free-flowing and dynamic, slipping through his mental grasp only to dart back into place. He extended his hand, drawing it out of his Core, letting it rise to the surface. A faint breeze swirled around him, tugging at his hair and clothes. ¡°Alright,¡± Rowan smiled, his voice steady. ¡°Let¡¯s see what you can do.¡± The Wind mana coursing through his channels wanted to move. It wanted an outlet. What he did next wasn¡¯t worthy of being called a spell. There wasn¡¯t any precision or artistry in it. Just a valve being opened. He pointed his hand in front and drew on his reserves. A sharp gust erupted from his palm, tearing through the air with a low but persistent hum. It was inefficient, and unfocused, but it was Wind magic. A release of Intentless mana. Rowan cut off the flow a moment later, not wanting to waste it all in one go. But even those few seconds were enough to fill him with an eagerness he hadn¡¯t felt in months. A curiosity and need to explore this new facet of his strength. It would take him weeks to start mastering stronger spells, Murmur¡¯s and upward. Those required learning mana circuits and honing an Intent. But I¡¯m more than capable of mastering a Whisper, he thought, already pulling at his Core again. That might have been an arrogant thought, but Rowan was sure he could do it. Mastering a spell¡ªeven a weak one¡ªrequired time and effort. He hadn¡¯t put any of the former into his new affinity, which would require going all in on the latter. The mana called to him, brimming with potential. There was a purity to it. Something that always managed to bring out a sense of wonder in Rowan. Imagining what he wanted in his head, Rowan let the flow guide him. The mana circuit for a Whisper-level spell was just a single line. Going from his Core to where he wanted the spell to manifest. In this case¡ªand honestly in most of them¡ªthat was his hand. But even that line had a particular path it needed to follow. Rowan¡¯s arm had dozens, maybe even hundreds of channels running through it, and after a few attempts, he managed to find the right ones. Forcing it wouldn¡¯t have worked. He needed to let the mana flow as it wanted, forming his Intent around it as it did. A Whisper-level spell wasn''t a complicated working. The Wind wanted to move, and Rowan let it. Blow, he imbued his Intent. A gale erupted from his palm. It rustled the branches overhead, whistling through the air. Kai didn¡¯t miss his opportunity. He dove down from his perch, wings folded against his body. His familiar entered the spell, the unconcentrated sprawl of Wind mana doing little more than buffering his body before his wings spread. He cawed happily as they caught the Wind, propelling him forward. Rowan was rapidly burning through his reserves, the unpolished Intent and inefficient route doing little to help. It wasn¡¯t a spell to boast about. In fact, it was downright bad. A small gust of wind was depleting him like he was throwing [Fireball]¡¯s. Eighteen percent wasn¡¯t a whole lot, but it still should have gone further than this. Rowan¡¯s reserves had grown significantly over the last week, rising by twenty-five percent from working on his Core and another fifty from investing in Intelligence. But that was only for his Fire mana. The only Wind mana he currently had was from what he absorbed. He let the spell dissipate. Withdrawing his Intent and no longer drawing from his Core. Kai glided back towards him, landing and looking up at him expectantly. Rowan laughed. ¡°Let¡¯s go. I¡¯ve got two more in me.¡± He¡¯d already spent half his available Wind mana, that single cast burning through a majority of it. A little less this time, he decided. Kai didn¡¯t need to be told twice, flying up and getting ready. Rowan focused intently, performing it again. Refining the spell. This time, the channels he guided his mana through were more efficient, and his Intent grew sharper. The spell in turn grew more polished, its cost lowering and scope narrowing. Kai was pushed back further this time, chirping in delight. Rowan felt something slipping into place, but it still wasn¡¯t quite enough. He tried for a third time. Drawing on the last of his mana and letting the spell fly. A gust of concentrated Wind released from his hand. It wasn¡¯t powerful¡ªstill barely more than a harsh breeze. Kai flew over it, using the first spell Rowan mastered with his new affinity as a makeshift playground.
Congratulations! You have mastered the Whisper-level spell, [Gust]!
Rowan pumped a fist into the air. ¡°Ha! Third try!¡± It was hard not to feel giddy after what he¡¯d just done. This has to be some kind of record. Rowan had barely had his new affinity for five minutes, and he already managed to master a spell. Even a weaker one would have taken most mages days, if not even weeks to properly learn. But he was a member of House Athlain. Magic was his, by right of blood and birth. Fire, Wind, Earth, or Water, it didn¡¯t matter. Rowan had a connection to all of them that went deeper than anyone knew. Other mages thought they needed to whip the mana into shape, to force it into doing what they wanted. But that couldn¡¯t have been further from the truth. ¡°Listen and guide,¡± Rowan recalled his mother¡¯s words. ¡°That¡¯s how you get mana to do what you want.¡± Not everyone was capable of doing that. Guiding was one thing. Everyone did that in one form or another when they moved it through their channels. But listening was different. It required a mage to let go of his control¡ªletting the mana do as it willed¡ªall the while keeping a firm hand on his cast. It was a hard mindset to master. One wrong move resulted in soul damage, a miscast tearing away at your channels. Rowan had a safety net in the form of his trait, his soul capable of withstanding anything he threw at it. But even with it, that hadn¡¯t happened to him since the first time he cast a spell. All the way back on that fateful day in Eiselyth. He knew what his mana wanted to do. Heard it speaking its intentions loud and clear. Fire was destructive. It wanted to consume and spread, to change everything it touched into a different form. But Wind mana was different. It was free, and at its core, all it wanted to do was move. Rowan pulled up his spell list, his smile widening at what he saw.
Whisper: [Flash], [Heat], [Ember Spray], [Heat Wave], [Burning Hands]
Murmur: [Firebolt], [Fire Shield], [Burning Whip]
Chant: [/]
Hymn: [/]
Aria: [/]
Ode: [/]
Epic: [/]
Whisper: [Gust]
Murmur: [/]
Chant: [/]
Hymn: [/]
Aria: [/]
Ode: [/]
Epic: [/]
He grinned. ¡°One down, thousands more to go.¡± His arsenal wasn¡¯t the largest, or the flashiest. Ten spells weren¡¯t a lot when compared to mages who had been honing their craft for years. But Rowan hadn''t been at it for years. Barely half a year had passed since he Awakened, and he¡¯d already advanced in rank, and was on the cusp of mastering his first Chant-level spell. There was so much for him to do, to discover and learn. Not just about his new affinity¡ªor just his old one¡ªbut about magic as a whole. Rowan craved it like a drowning man craved air. This was the start of his Path, and he wouldn¡¯t stop at just Fire or Wind. I don¡¯t get to just be good. Or even great, he thought, fists clenching in determination. I need to be the best. It was easy to feel satisfied after what he accomplished. Advancement was a milestone worth celebrating. But Rowan wouldn¡¯t accomplish his goals by growing complacent. Both his parents had been Archmages, and his brothers and sisters were well on their way too. Even so, none of them survived the calamity that befell Eiselyth. If Rowan wanted to learn the truth, being an Orange-Core mage wasn¡¯t nearly enough. Right now, his opponents were goblins¡ªand the occasional Silver-rank¡ªbut that wouldn¡¯t always be the case. There were other Archmages out there, warriors capable of splitting mountains with nothing but a swing of their weapons. And to learn the truth about what happened that day, Rowan would need to stand on equal ground with them. He whistled. Kai dove down from above, unfurling his wings and landing on his shoulder. He glanced at him with an expectant expression, nipping at Rowan¡¯s coat. ¡°We can play later,¡± he said, summoning a piece of parchment covered in enchantments. ¡°I think it¡¯s time I mastered [Fireball].¡± The last week had left him brimming with an eager energy. The monotony and boredom were well worth the rewards, but now that it was done, he wanted to do the same thing as his new affinity. Move. His strength had grown tremendously since the last time he¡¯d visited, and Rowan was intent on testing exactly how much stronger he¡¯d become. Kai cawed excitedly, flapping his wings. ¡°If things go the way I hope, we¡¯re not going to be the same level for long,¡± Rowan smiled. ¡°I¡¯m going to give you a feast.¡± His familiar didn¡¯t need to be told twice. He nuzzled closer, wrapping a wing around Rowan¡¯s shoulders to hold himself steady. Sending a bit of mana into the teleportation token, Rowan felt it come to life. The enchantments flared, a familiar purple glow engulfing both of them. It sent them away from Litwick, from the Verdant Plains altogether, teleporting them across the Kingdom to the Scorched Plateau. Chapter 18 - The Scorched Plateau I The familiar purple glow of the teleportation token enveloped Rowan and Kai, pulling them away from the quiet comfort of his home and into the unknown. The transition was as disorienting as always¡ªlike being yanked through a rushing river, his surroundings twisting and warping around him. Then, with a sharp crack, the world snapped back into focus. Rowan stumbled slightly, his boots crunching against dry, brittle earth. The air hit him like a blazing wall, heavy and suffocating, carrying the acrid tang of sulfur. Heat radiated off the ground, shimmering in the distance like a mirage. He looked up to find the sun glaring down at him, its unforgiving rays unfiltered by even a wisp of cloud. ¡°As unwelcoming as always,¡± Rowan muttered, shielding his eyes with a hand as he took in his surroundings. Kai took to the sky, flapping his wings to get a better vantage point. The landscape was an expanse of jagged, rust-colored rock, interrupted by blackened fissures that snaked through the ground like veins. Every so often, bursts of fire erupted from these cracks, spewing brilliant orange flames in the air. The vents weren¡¯t random, either¡ªthey pulsed with a rhythm, as if the land itself was breathing. In the distance, towering spires of obsidian jutted into the sky, their surfaces polished smooth by centuries of searing winds. Kai let out a sharp caw from above, his feathers more than enough to deal with the heat. ¡°Find anything?¡± Rowan yelled out. He turned away from the spires, circling high above. As they started walking, the teleportation token Rowan held in his hand burned away. It was a marvel of enchanting. The runes were engraved into the hide of a high Ebony-rank monster with a Space affinity. Ruby dust mined from chasms deep beneath the Mountain of Sorrows filled the furrows, glowing with power. Rowan wouldn¡¯t hesitate to say a single one of these was worth more than everything in Litwick combined. Most likely by an order of magnitude. Teleportation was an expensive endeavor, especially when it came from items instead of mages. And he had hundreds of them. To every single region in the kingdom. From the Stormspire Heights to the Onyx Sands. North to south, east to west, it didn¡¯t matter. The only problem was that while the tokens were incredibly useful, they were as precise as a blind archer with only one arm. They targeted a region, not a location. Meaning every time Rowan used one, he appeared in a new spot. For most regions, that was a massive problem. Teleporting to a random spot in the Wilds had the slight drawback of being downright suicidal. Rowan was undoubtedly strong for his level. But in the grand scheme of things, he was little more than a pest. There were monsters out there that could sneeze him out of existence, so for at least a little while longer, he was confined to just the regions where he could live through the trip. The Scorched Plateau being one of them. The difference between the Plateau and other regions was that monsters grew stronger the deeper you went. Meaning Rowan could teleport here without fearing for his life. At least for the moment. As if on cue, a low growl reached his ears. From a crevice off in the distance, a scaled monster made its presence known. It burrowed out of the ground, displacing rock with frightening ease, its massive claws tailor-made for the task.
Level: 5
Body: Bronze V [5 Levels]
Core: N/A
Rowan grinned. Let¡¯s see what changed. Not wasting even a second, he channeled mana towards his palm. A [Firebolt] formed before the Ember Crawler even left its hole, the radiant orb flaring to life. Rowan marveled at the ease with which it came to him. He¡¯d cast the spell thousands of times before, but never before had it felt so simple. He expected the increase in his reserves, but the heightened control surprised him. The Crawler burst from its hole, rushing at him with an enraged snarl. Spittle flew out of its fanged jaws, its muscled legs bounding across the cracked earth. Rowan didn¡¯t move, facing the charging beasts with an eager smile on his face. He remembered the first time he¡¯d face one of these beasts. It had ended with a broken arm and bruised ribs. A learning experience, to be sure. But there wasn¡¯t much a monster as weak as this one could teach him now. Rowan raised his arm and let the spell fly. The [Firebolt] erupted from his hand, whistling through the air and impacting the monster in the head. It burned through its hardened carapace like it wasn¡¯t even there, penetrating through its skull and into its brain. The beast went limp. Its bulky body fell to the ground with a loud thud, the momentum carrying it forward a few more feet before coming to an abrupt halt.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Never one to miss a meal, Kai landed on its head, dipping his beak into the hole his spell had left. It was a gruesome sight, but Rowan was used to it by now. And besides, he wasn¡¯t paying attention, his focus instead drawn to his Core. Like a drop in an ocean, he thought in awe. His advancement had improved everything about his magic. From the amount of mana he needed to cast a spell, the sharpness of his Intent, to the depth of his reserves. An all around increase in strength. He looked around the Plateau, his gaze drawn toward a cave entrance far in the distance, the dark opening yawning like a hungry maw. Steam hissed from the cracks around its edges, hinting at the vents found deep below. The Plateau wasn¡¯t just filled with danger, but opportunity too. If one knew where to look, and had the right tools, it was a resource to be mined. There, he decided. No point in wasting any more time. It was time to find a vent. Most likely, one monster or another would already be occupying it. But Rowan didn¡¯t care. There was nothing on the surface that could pose a threat to him, and he doubted anything on the first layer could either. Not as he was now, and definitely not when he started using the vent. Kai let out an eager caw, taking to the sky. Together, they began their trek toward the caves, the air around them rippling with heat and the faint promise of fire. . . . Rowan stood in a large cavern, a dead Crawler by his side. It had taken them a few minutes to get this far deep, moving through narrow openings and low caves. Not many adventurers would have braved these conditions. The heat had been steadily growing, and getting out would have proved a problem for most. But Rowan didn¡¯t plan on leaving through the standard route. He had his tokens for that. In the middle of the cavern, a fissure snaked across the ground. An almost transparent haze flowing out of it. ¡°Should be good enough,¡± Rowan said, moving closer. It was almost mundane in appearance, yet it was anything but. Pure, unfiltered Fire mana rose from the depths of the Plateau. Supposedly, the density grew the further down you went, but Rowan had never tried to confirm that particular fact. For what he needed, this was enough. ¡°Try to find a ledge,¡± he called out, mana already moving throughout his channels to counteract the heat. ¡°And don¡¯t just swoop down as soon as I kill something. Wait for the wave to pass.¡± Uncharacteristically, Kai did as he was told, settling down on an outcropping and waiting for his meal to arrive. Rowan took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. The vents in the Plateau were a fascinating phenomenon. A cornerstone of the region¡¯s ecosystem. They regulated the monster population and drove the stronger ones deeper in. They required denser mana to progress along their Paths, something they couldn¡¯t find this close to the surface. To mages, the mana was mostly useless. Trying to absorb it would scar their channels and strain their souls. It was a curiosity, nothing more. But to Rowan, it was a boon like few others. A perfect way for him to master spells. There were two things he needed in order to work on his magic. The first was obviously mana. Which to most, was a finite resource. There were only so many spells a mage could cast each day. And if it took ten-thousand casts to master it, there wasn¡¯t a whole lot you could do to speed that along. Having talent cut that number down significantly, but even still, there was a bottleneck. One Rowan didn¡¯t need to worry about. At least when it came to Fire mana. If Rowan had to guess, he¡¯d cast [Fireball] somewhere north of five-hundred times. And by the time he returned to Litwick, he planned on mastering it. The second thing he needed was a good location. There was a reason mages built their towers far away from densely populated areas. Even with only a tier-one affinity, Rowan could do immense damage. A few [Fireball]¡¯s were capable of destroying a large chunk of Litwick with relative ease. At least until the Guildmistress, or the mage advisor, came to stop me. I doubt they¡¯d appreciate me blowing up buildings. Not that he had any plans on doing that, but the point stood. Rowan could practice his magic in the backyard. However, in the Plateau, he could finally let loose. The cracked ground swallowed up spells like a sponge, funneling the mana down before spitting it back up. Rowan was pretty sure there was a Beast King somewhere below, but that wasn¡¯t something he wanted to find out. His desire for getting smote out of existence was exactly zero. As he stepped into the vent, a low hiss escaped his throat. The heat was almost overwhelming, stinging at his eyes, his breathing growing quicker. If it had been an actual flame, he¡¯d already be a charred corpse. But thankfully for him, it wasn¡¯t. It was mana. Magic, just waiting to happen. Drawing deeper from his reserves, he imbued his body with it, fighting back against the oppressive heat. It took him a few seconds to get into a rhythm. What Rowan was doing was a difficult technique, one that had taken him quite a while to get down. He cycled his mana through the channels closest to his skin. Creating a balancing force against the mana spewing from the vent. It was costly, and inefficient, but it got the job done. Even with his improved reserves, Rowan¡¯s Core drained rapidly. With the amount it was costing him to keep the technique running, he had barely a minute before it emptied fully. Something he wanted to, if at all possible, avoid. With the stage set, he got to work. Rowan closed his eyes, feeling the foreign mana as it moved across his skin. There was something comforting about it, like a warm blanket on a chilly winters night. But even more than that, it felt familiar. Ever since Rowan Awakened, he¡¯d been working on mastering his affinity. Fire mana was something he knew. Something he could control. With a working of Intent, Rowan drew it into himself. It burned as it made its way into his body. Trying, and failing, to char his channels. As far as he could tell, his trait made them practically invulnerable. It allowed him to move and channel a seemingly boundless amount of mana without straining his soul. The first thing he needed to do was stabilize his infusions. Fighting against the vent was expensive, but with mana flowing into him at a steady pace, it wasn¡¯t an insurmountable hurdle. Over the next minute, Rowan found the right balance. Powering his technique with only the ambient mana he drew in. But that wasn¡¯t all of it, not even close. The rest slowly replenished Core, leaving him ready for the next step. The circuit for [Fireball] was a familiar one to him. Rowan had spent long hours pouring over the spell tome, memorizing the path he needed to take. Now all he needed to do was perfect it. A shell formed in the palm of his hand as he completed the first portion. Another two joined it soon after, filling it with destructive potential. Holding his infusions, drawing in mana, and casting was a definite challenge. Even for him. It strained his focus to the brink. Forcing him to draw on every scrap of willpower he had. Ever so slowly, the [Fireball] forming in his hand flickered to life. As the shell filled to capacity, Rowan could feel it trying to jump from his grasp. Wanting to be let loose. Fulfill its purpose. Thirty-nine seconds, he thought. That¡¯s¡­ a whole lot better than I expected. The increased difficulty meant it took him longer than it normally would have. Juggling three things at once wasn¡¯t exactly conducive to precise magecraft. But even with that, it was a massive improvement over the last time he¡¯d been here. It had taken him over a minute then. I need to get that down to ten. That should be enough for the System to acknowledge it. A low growl drew his attention. Coming from a cave towards his left. Rowan¡¯s gaze moved towards it, his smile growing wider at what he saw. Three Crawlers had made their way into the cavern, their slitted eyes focused on him and the vent he was occupying.
Level: 11
Body: Iron III [11 Levels]
Core: N/A
Level: 13
Body: Iron IV [13 Levels]
Core: N/A
Level: 9
Body: Iron II [11 Levels]
Core: N/A
¡°Alright, now we can start.¡± And with that, Rowan let his spell fly. Chapter 19 - The Scorched Plateau II Sealed Flame, Rowan intoned, filling his spell with the Intent needed for it to fully manifest. The [Fireball] erupted from his hand, a blazing sphere of raw, destructive might. It streaked across the cavern, its heat warping the air in its wake. The glow of the spell illuminated every jagged surface, the shadows of the three Ember Crawlers stretching and writhing like specters on the walls. The monsters snarled in unison, their claws digging into the rocky ground as they surged forward, undeterred by the searing heat racing towards them. They didn¡¯t know fear¡ªonly instinct. And right now, their instincts told them that Rowan was prey. They were wrong. The spell hit the lead Crawler dead center, detonating in a brilliant eruption of fire and force. A thunderous boom shook the cavern, loose shards of rock falling from the ceiling. The impact didn¡¯t just stop the first creature¡ªit obliterated it. The burst of flames engulfed the other two Crawlers before they could react, the sheer force of the explosion flinging them back like ragdolls. One slammed against the cavern wall, its carapace cracking audibly before it crumpled to the ground, twitching. The other was hurled into a fissure, its shriek cut short as it vanished into the depths. The firestorm lingered for a moment, a swirling vortex of heat and light that consumed everything in its radius. When it finally subsided, a loud silence filled the cavern. What remained of his spell was soon swallowed up by the parched ground, draining away his mana and feeding it to something down below. Rowan stood motionless, his arm still outstretched, the faint heat of his spell¡¯s aftermath radiating from his palm. His breath came in short, shallow bursts, the sheer power of the [Fireball] leaving him momentarily stunned. He lowered his hand, a slow grin spreading across his face as he surveyed the devastation. The lead Crawler had been reduced to little more than ash and scorched fragments. The one against the wall twitched once more before going still, its shattered shell leaking dark fluid onto the smoldering ground. Kai let out a sharp caw from his perch, his wings flaring as he surveyed the carnage. He dove from the ledge, landing on the charred remains of the nearest monster. With an eager trill, he tore into the remains. ¡°Well,¡± Rowan muttered, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow, ¡°That was¡­ satisfying.¡± His Core hummed in response, the expenditure leaving a hollow, yet oddly fulfilling sensation in his chest. Rowan drew in a deep breath, refilling his reserves from the mana pouring out of the vent. The spell had been a resounding success¡ªnot just because of the destruction it caused, but because of how it felt. It was smoother than ever. The circuit had flowed with precision, and the shell had held perfectly until impact. The work he¡¯d put in was paying off, and Rowan felt a surge of pride at how far he¡¯d come. But if there was one truth in this world, it was that he could always do better. There were still improvements to be made. ¡°One down,¡± Rowan muttered, his grin fading as determination replaced it. The vent continued to hiss, streams of mana rising into the air like ghostly flames. The Plateau didn¡¯t care about his success. It didn¡¯t care about his progress or his plans. It was a crucible, one that would only grow harder to endure. What he¡¯d done had started a timer. And with what he planned on doing next, it would only grow shorter. He could only be so loud before the monsters that called this place their home came to investigate. Crawlers he could take care of with relative ease. Burrowers and Ashlings too. They were all monsters at Iron-rank or below, and with the vent keeping his reserves topped off, they were little more than nuisances. But Rowan wasn¡¯t arrogant enough to think it¡¯d stay that way for long. The longest he¡¯d managed to hold a vent was half an hour. And while that didn¡¯t seem like a lot, it translated to a few dozen casts of [Fireball]. Cutting down days of work into something much more palatable. Not wasting any time, Rowan got started. Mastering a spell was more art than science. The spell tomes certainly helped with learning the circuit, but it was the Intent that really made a difference. And Rowan¡¯s needed some refining. The hissing of the vent mixed with the distant echoes of approaching monsters, but Rowan barely noticed, his focus fixed on the spell once more forming in his palm. Mana coursed through his channels, sharp and searing, spiraling into the shell. ¡°Sealed Flame,¡± Rowan whispered, channeling his Intent. The phrase was more than just words¡ªit was an order to the mana to fulfill its purpose. The [Fireball] started forming, brighter and denser than the one before. After thirty-seven seconds, it was done. Flicking his wrist, Rowan shot it forward, aiming at a wall. A loud boom echoed through the cavern, though quieter than the one before. The Plateau eagerly absorbed his mana, dulling the spell''s effect. He could feel his Intent sharpening. His next one was faster, more efficient, just slightly closer to what he needed.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Rowan wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, his breath steady despite the growing heat. The mana from the vent surged into him, refilling his reserves faster than he could empty them. The process repeated, the minutes blurring together in a cycle of casting, adjusting, and refilling. But all the noise he was making started drawing attention, and it wasn¡¯t long before his spells found better targets. The Burrowers came first¡ªskittering, snarling beasts that tested his precision. Then came the Crawlers, larger and bulkier, their hides tougher and their charges more relentless. Rowan adjusted, and kept at it. Twenty-one, he thought, going again. ¡°Refined Heat,¡± he muttered, honing his Intent further. The [Fireball] exploded with a tighter radius but an intensity that melted rock and flesh alike. As the minutes passed, the monsters grew stronger. Ashlings slithered into the cavern, their shadowy forms blending into the dark corners before striking with blinking speed. Rowan¡¯s response was equally as quick¡ªhis fire illuminating the cavern as he forced them back, the searing heat driving them into the open where they were obliterated. One of the Ashling managed to close the distance, lunging at him with a venomous hiss. Rowan reacted without thinking, releasing a [Firebolt] at point-blank range. The smaller spell wasn¡¯t as destructive, but it was precise, and quick. It struck the creature in its gaping maw and sent it flying backwards, lifeless. Kai swooped down from his perch, taking advantage of the carnage. He tore into one of the Burrowers, his sharp beak making quick work of the cracked shell. He trilled in delight, flapping his wings. Rowan¡¯s Core pulsed with exertion, but the vent¡¯s mana kept him going. The process was grueling¡ªevery cast pushing him closer to mastery, every wave of monsters sharpening his Intent. Time seemed to stretch, the rhythm of combat becoming a relentless metronome. Cast. Refine. Cast. Refine. Each [Fireball] came to him faster, the circuit more efficient, his Intent honed. Rowan felt the shift deep within him, the point where his will and the mana aligned perfectly. His spell wasn¡¯t just functional¡ªit was art. The cavern bore the marks of his work. Scorch marks lined the walls, the air thick with the acrid scent of burning flesh and charred stone. The once-barren ground was littered with smoldering remains, a testament to his progress. Finally, as a [Fireball] formed in his hand for what felt like the hundredth time today, he felt a difference. Compressed Ember, he intoned, the Intent slipping into place like a puzzle piece. The spell burned brighter than any before it, the heat contained within its shell a testament to his mastery. He released it with a sense of finality, the explosion that followed more controlled yet devastating in its impact. He grinned. ¡°And that¡¯s ten.¡±
Congratulations! You have mastered a Chant-level spell, [Fireball]!
Rowan let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging with a mix of exhaustion and triumph. His Core hummed, the mana from the vent still flowing into him, though slower now¡ªhis reserves almost full once more. Kai landed in front of him, his feathers unsinged. Seems like I¡¯m not the only one who gained something from this little trip.
Level: 13
Body: Iron IV [13 Levels]
Core: N/A
His familiar hopped around, eyes bright with excitement. He cawed once, his tone sounding almost congratulatory. Rowan chuckled, looking at the scene around him. The monsters were gone, their attempts to claim the vent thwarted by his flames. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of his progress. If I applied to the Academy right now, I¡¯d get in. I¡¯d even pass the exam for Apprentice, he smiled to himself. Rowan shook his head. That wasn¡¯t bound to happen any time soon, he had no way of getting to the Academy in the first place, and even if he did, he wasn¡¯t sure that was a good idea. Being considered dead had its advantages. Nevertheless, it was a satisfying thought. He¡¯d spent his youth imagining himself there, walking those halls, proving his worth. That dream had never fully faded, even when he¡¯d come to terms with his status. But he wasn¡¯t dull anymore. And while walking its halls would have to wait, he could still prove his worth. If not to his family, then to himself. Not to advance in title. Being an Initiate or an Apprentice had sounded exciting when he¡¯d been young, but Rowan already had a title. One he intended to live up to. He thought back, a bittersweet memory coming to mind. Out of all of his siblings, Kasius had managed it the fastest. And it had taken him just over two years. Advancing wasn¡¯t the problem, all you needed to do it was time and effort, something every talented mage had in spades. But mastering a Chant was another thing entirely. Six months, Rowan thought. For both. Alone. With no one to guide me. His fists clenched at his side, feeling anger bubbling inside him. The vent only seemed to stoke it further, his channels brimming with energy just waiting to be unleashed. It was hard not to think about what could have been if his Awakening had happened sooner. If Rowan had someone to teach him, there was no telling how far he could have walked his Path by the time disaster struck. Maybe I¡¯d have been strong enough to help, he sighed. If I Awakened at twelve like everyone else, that''s seven years right there. His trait was a well of untapped potential, he knew that. But what he didn¡¯t know was how to effectively utilize it. Having stronger channels and a more robust soul were massive boons, but that felt like praising a sword for its scabbard. Rowan wasn¡¯t actually swinging it yet, and with no knowledge of how to unsheathe it, that was how it would stay. Well, unless something changed. Opening his eyes, Rowan took a deep, calming breath, letting the tension drain from his shoulders. Wishing for the past to change was a worthless endeavor. One that always seemed to leave him feeling hollow. But no, he wouldn¡¯t do that. Not today. He¡¯d accomplished something great, something worth celebrating. And Rowan wouldn¡¯t let those familiar dark clouds overshadow that success. He was here, in the Plateau. A newly minted Orange-Core mage with a freshly mastered Chant under his belt. Courtesy of the vent, his Core was full, his channels filled to bursting. The cavern was littered with smoldering corpses, marks from his relentless spellcasting covering the walls. It had been a hectic half-hour, and with the amount of noise he¡¯d been making, something was bound to come and look. Kai cawed loudly from his perch, drawing Rowan¡¯s attention towards a crack in the wall to his left. From out of the darkness came a low, ominous growl. The only thing Rowan could see was a pair of slitted eyes, shining with a familiar red glow. But that was enough to scan it.
Level: 23
Body: Silver I [18 Levels]
Core: Red [5 Levels]
Rowan¡¯s heartbeat quickened, an eager grin appearing on his face. The smart thing to do would have been to make a run for it. He¡¯d encountered this monster only once before, and that hadn''t ended all that well for him. Ash Wyrmlings made their home on the second layer of the Plateau, and for one to come here meant Rowan had made a lot more noise than he¡¯d thought. Knowing it had been seen, the monster moved out of the crevice, its body somewhere between a Crawler and Burrower in size. Dusty grey scales covered it, moving with the lithe grace of a predator that sent chills down Rowan¡¯s spine. If he had to guess, it might even be stronger than the shaman he¡¯d fought. The fact that it had a Core of its own immediately made it a threat worth taking seriously. But right now, Rowan couldn¡¯t find it in himself to care. ¡°I really hope you brought some friends,¡± he muttered, a determined look in his eyes. Their gazes never left each other, both of them sizing up the other. The Wyrmling slowly made its way around the cavern, circling him. In a burst of speed, it lunged towards him, snarling as its muscled legs tore across the rocky ground. Rowan grinned. And then, he started casting. Chapter 20 - The Scorched Plateau III Rowan cast [Firebolt]. The spell was weaker than his new Chant by a substantial margin, but it was also faster. And with the speed the Wrymling was closing the distance, that was exactly what he needed. It forced the monster to dodge to the side, slowing its charge but doing no damage. The spell impacted the ground, sending out a small shower of dust and dirt. Its mana was greedily absorbed by the ground, funneled deeper inwards. Rowan faced a choice. The vent was keeping his reserves topped off, but was that what he truly needed? Staying here effectively traded his mobility¡ªone of his greatest strengths¡ªfor staying power¡ªsomething he already had in abundance. And if this fight took everything he had in his Core, that meant he was doing something wrong. Another [Firebolt] formed in his hand, the spell coming to him like a finely honed reflex. During a fight, ten seconds was a long time. A [Fireball] would have been able to take care of the Wyrmling with relative ease, but there was no way Rowan would be able to actually cast it. He raised his hand, letting the spell fly. Once more, the monster used its almost frightening speed to move to the side. Reducing Rowan¡¯s attack to nothing more than a deterrent. As it got closer, dodging his spells with ease, Rowan felt his muscles tighten in anticipation. A Silver-ranked monster with a Core was a dangerous opponent. It was faster, stronger, and more durable than Rowan. And having access to mana on top of that made fighting it a perfect test for his newfound strength. Obliterating things with a wave of his hand was certainly fun, but what Rowan needed was something to push his limits¡ªforce him to find the extent of his abilities. He grinned. But first, let¡¯s see if you can make me move. Finally, when it crossed the halfway mark between the vent and the wall, Rowan changed his approach. It was in range, and he wasn¡¯t planning on letting that go to waste. Serpents of Fire, he intoned. A tendril of flame, larger and thicker than any he¡¯d cast before appeared out of his back, with another following soon after. The strain from infusing his body, drawing in mana from the vent, and holding two spells active at the same time was about as far as Rowan could push himself right now. If he had to guess, he could manage four in normal circumstances. But they would have been much smaller than the ones he was currently wielding. The Wyrmling¡¯s eyes widened in alarm. It hissed in panic as a whip came crashing down towards it, sizzling as it cut through the air. Rowan¡¯s spell impacted the ground with a loud boom, the force leaving a small crater. The Plateau tried to take its due, but he resisted its pull, his Intent unwavering. Keeping up the pressure, Rowan swung his other whip at the Wyrmling, trying to catch it off guard. It finally seemed to have had enough, drawing on its own mana. The monster¡¯s eyes glowed a burning red, its claws taking on the same hue. Monsters didn¡¯t have skills the same way members of the enlightened races had them. And the same was true for spells. Their magic was instinctual, almost basic in its application. But that didn¡¯t make it any less deadly. Rowan¡¯s other whip cracked towards the Wyrmling, coming from its side. Seemingly tired of dodging, the beast let out a loud roar, its burning claws intercepting his spell. They wrapped around it with a vice like grip, the beast grunting from the effort of holding it back. It skidded across the ground, eyes never leaving Rowan. His other whip came from above, aiming to crush the monster. The Wyrmling glanced up for barely a moment before its jaws took on the same hue as its eyes and claws, catching the tendril with a powerful bite. Rowan smirked. Got you. Casting another whip wasn¡¯t something he was capable of. His focus was almost completely occupied by the two he already had active and everything else he was doing on top of that. But two were more than enough. He¡¯d come here to push himself, and that was exactly what Rowan planned on doing. The two massive tendrils held the Wyrmling in place, a massive amount of mana coursing through his channels. He gritted his teeth, the strain he was under rising as Rowan attempted to cast another spell.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. It was a feeling unlike any other. A headache started blooming to life behind his eyes, his hands shaking from the effort of dragging more mana through his body. Rowan had no way of knowing for sure, but he was pretty damn certain even Yellow-Core mages would have had trouble replicating his feat. He savored the pain. It was the price of progress, and Rowan was more than willing to pay it. ¡°Piercing Flame,¡± he whispered, his voice straining. A red ember flared in the palm of his hand. Rapidly growing brighter as more mana filled the spell. The Wyrmling realized what was happening, but even still, there wasn¡¯t much it could do. Rowan¡¯s whips kept it under pressure, forcing it to defend. It roared, throwing the burning tendrils to the side in an attempt to disengage. But they came back with a vengeance, the faint crackle of his flames joined by a sharp crack as they sliced through the air. This was where Rowan thrived. Where he felt most alive. There were no errant thoughts clouding his mind¡ªno grief or anger¡ªall that was left was the thrill that came with triumph. A wide grin stretched across his face as he let the spell fly. The [Firebolt] erupted from his hand, heading straight towards the Wyrmling. It snarled in panic, trying and failing to keep his whips at bay. But no matter what it tried, it wasn¡¯t enough. The spell impacted the immobilized monster right under its head, piercing through its neck and shooting out the other side before dissipating, its mana spent. For a moment, nothing happened. The malice in its eyes undiminished. Its powerful body held his whips at back, the glow from its own inherent spells sharpening, growing in strength. But then it staggered. Its leg buckled and its grip loosened. Slowly, life faded from the Wyrmlings'' eyes. Leaving them cloudy and unfocused. With nothing holding them back, Rowan¡¯s whips tore it apart. Severing limbs and burning through its hardened carapace. As the dust settled, all that was left was a smoldering torso. Rowan stared at the scene for a moment before letting his spells drop. He exhaled a shaky breath, letting the tension drain from his body as the last embers of his spell flickered out. He stood amidst the heat and silence, the cavern eerily still after the chaos of battle. His Core hummed steadily, refilling itself from the vent, but the ache in his limbs and the pounding in his head reminded him of the strain he¡¯d just endured. A Wyrmling had been a foe that would have driven him to flee just days prior. But now? Rowan smiled, staring at the smoldering remains. ¡°Not so tough anymore.¡± The words were soft, almost a whisper. He was no longer the weak, dull disappointment of his family. Today, he¡¯d taken the first real step at becoming a mage worthy of his family¡¯s name. Pride swelled in his chest. He wasn¡¯t just advancing in rank. He was proving his strength¡ªto himself, and to those that were no longer here to see it. Proving that he was becoming something worth remembering. Kai cawed sharply from his perch, snapping Rowan out of his thoughts. His familiar glided down from the ledge, landing gracefully next to the Wyrmling¡¯s mangled torso. His talons clicked against the scorched rock as he began digging into the monster¡¯s chest with precision. Rowan watched in amusement as Kai worked. ¡°Straight to the good stuff, huh?¡± His familiar ignored him, focused entirely on his task. With a triumphant trill, Kai finally pulled free his prize¡ªa jagged, faintly glowing Core. The deep red light within it pulsed weakly, like the last embers of a dying flame. The Wyrmling hadn¡¯t been weak, and while its Core was no Epic-grade treasure like the shamans, it was valuable nonetheless. Kai puffed out his chest, clearly proud of his find. Rowan chuckled. ¡°Sure, let¡¯s ignore the fact that it was me that did all the work.¡± That didn¡¯t discourage his familiar. He threw the Core into the air and gulped it down, satisfied with his meal. But the little glutton was rarely satisfied for long. Turning his head, he dug into the charred flesh with unrestrained enthusiasm. Rowan shook his head, taking a moment to assess himself. His reserves were full, the vents steady flow ensuring he was ready in case of another fight. His Core felt stable, humming with energy. The strain that should have been there from channeling so much mana nowhere to be found. He allowed himself a moment to revel in the victory. The Wyrmling had been a good test, and while it hadn¡¯t been easy, it hadn¡¯t pushed him to the brink either. Rowan clenched his fists, his grin returning. I can¡¯t believe how much of a difference advancing actually made. The thought of rejoining the Grove sent a ripple of excitement through him. Omi¡¯s healing cooldown would be over by now, which meant the party would be gearing up for their next quest. And Rowan couldn¡¯t wait to show them what he was capable of. The Plateau, for all its dangers and opportunities, had served its purpose. Rowan summoned a token from the Vault. It was the same type as the one he¡¯d summoned all those months ago, when he left Eiselyth. A token to the Verdant Plains. He ran a finger over the engravings, marveling for a moment at the beauty of its design. Thank the gods they come with a beacon, Rowan thought to himself. Trekking across the Wilds to find Litwick would have been a major pain in the ass. ¡°Alright you winged menace, time to get back to¡ª¡± A faint noise reached his ears. Rowan froze, his senses sharpening. The sound had come from one of the many tunnels leading into the cavern¡ªa low, guttural growl that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Kai paused mid-meal, his head snapping up as he let out a warning trill. His wings flared, his bright eyes scanning the darkness. ¡°Up,¡± Rowan said firmly, his familiar immediately complying. Flying back up to his perch. The vent¡¯s mana still flowed around him, ensuring he had plenty of power to deal with whatever creeped through the darkness. The growl came again, louder this time, echoing through the cavern. There was a strange resonance to it, and it took Rowan a moment to realize why that was. A rhythmic pounding reached his ears, footsteps approaching from the tunnel. His pulse quickened. ¡°I think he really did bring friends,¡± he muttered, glancing at the massacred body of the Wyrmling. Rowan weighed his options. The teleportation token in his hand offered a fairly quick escape, but curiosity tugged at him. The Plateau was a crucible, and whatever was approaching could very well be another test¡ªa chance to push himself even further. The pounding grew louder, joined by the sharp, unmistakable crack of splintering stone. Rowan¡¯s grip on the token tightened as he stared into the darkness, a smile appearing on his face despite himself. ¡°Well,¡± he said, the thrill of battle once more flaring to life, ¡°one more fight couldn¡¯t hurt, right?¡± Deciding to be proactive, he started casting [Fireball]. The shadows at the far end of the tunnel shifted, and three shapes began to emerge.
Level: 32
Body: Silver IV [27 Levels]
Core: Red [5 Levels]
Level: 29
Body: Silver III [24 Levels]
Core: Red [5 Levels]
Level: 29
Body: Silver III [24 Levels]
Core: Red [5 Levels]
Rowan¡¯s eyes widened. Fuck. It was a thin line between confidence and arrogance, and Rowan knew he veered into the latter more often than not. But as the three¡ªalmost Gold-ranked¡ªWyrmlings entered the cavern, he didn¡¯t hesitate. Rowan sent a pulse of mana into the token, activating it. It would take a minute for it to affix itself. A minute that he had a feeling would feel much longer. The Plateau, it seemed, wasn¡¯t done with him just yet. Chapter 21 - The Scorched Plateau IV The three Wyrmlings emerged from the cave, their movements deliberate and predatory. They fanned out across the chamber, keeping a cautious distance from one another. Their slitted red eyes fixed on Rowan as they assessed him¡ªa mage standing atop a mana vent, flames dancing in his palm. Great, Rowan thought grimly. They just had to be smart too. The air grew dense---oppressive. The Wyrmling¡¯s bodies radiated heat, their scaled forms glinting faintly in the fiery glow of the cavern. Their slow, calculated circling set Rowan¡¯s nerves on edge, though his face betrayed none of it. Over the last couple of months, he¡¯d been in enough dangerous situations to know just how screwed he was. Each of these monsters had almost twenty levels on him, and while he was confident in taking one¡ªmaybe two¡ªthree just might prove too much. He let out a controlled breath, feeding his emotions¡ªfear, anticipation, excitement¡ªinto the river flowing through his mind. A technique honed through countless sleepless nights. The waves consumed everything, leaving behind a razor-sharp focus that steadied him. His heartbeat slowed, and a faint, defiant grin appeared on his face. ¡°Well,¡± he muttered softly, ¡°I did say I wanted a challenge.¡± He glanced at the token, tucking it into his belt. Rowan¡¯s grin tightened. It glowed faintly, its affixation barely started. A minute. That was how long he needed to hold them off. The Wyrmlings snarled, their postures shifting as they began to close in. Their clawed feet scraped against the stone floor, the sound echoing like nails on glass. The [Fireball] he¡¯d been channeling in his palm flared brighter as his Intent reached its peak. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the blazing orb hurtling towards the closest Wyrmling. The beast reacted instantly, leaping to the side with a burst of speed, its muscles coiling and movements fluid. The explosion shook the cavern, a wave of heat rippling outward, but the Wyrmling had managed to evade the worst of it. Smoke swirled in the air, but Rowan didn¡¯t stop. A [Firebolt] followed immediately, zipping toward the same target. This time, it connected. The spell struck the Wyrmling¡¯s leg, eliciting a painted snarl as it stumbled. The injury was minor¡ªa shallow scorch along its scales¡ªbut it was enough to slow it down. Rowan¡¯s eyes flickered toward the other two. Both were advancing cautiously, each step calculated, each movement deliberate. I¡¯m not going to be able to hit them with [Firebolt]¡¯s, he realized. They¡¯re too fast. Too quick. His mind raced, trying to come up with a solution. In the end, there was only one that came to mind, and as much as he didn¡¯t like it, Rowan didn¡¯t have a choice. A [Fireball] had enough destructive power that their speed wouldn¡¯t matter. But he didn¡¯t have ten seconds to cast it. What he needed to do was get that down, or distract the Wyrmlings long enough to finish his spell. Rowan set out another [Firebolt], but this time, instead of aiming directly at one of them, he targeted the ground. He tweaked the spell on the fly, making it louder and flashier. It wouldn¡¯t have done damage even if it hit, but a distraction was just as good. The explosion forced them to split further apart, disturbing their coordinated advance. ¡°You won¡¯t get an easy meal out of me,¡± he muttered, sweat dripping from his brow. The Wyrmlings adapted quickly. They began weaving unpredictably, dodging the blasts with unnerving agility. Glancing at the token, he winced. Not even half. Rowan was sending out [Firebolt]¡¯s by the second. Alternating between the Wyrmlings to keep them at bay. The strain was manageable but persistent, like a wall he was walking ever closer to. One of the monsters decided it was time to press its attack. It lunged at him right as Rowan threw a spell at the one furthest from it, giving it a brief moment of respite. His eyes widened in alarm. The agile monster soared through the air, its claws outstretched. Let¡¯s hope this works, Rowan thought, a small fraction of fear escaping the waves he tried to feed it to. His fingers trembled as he sent a fraction of Wind mana towards the ring on his hand, activating its enchantment. A [Wind Barrier] sprang to life. The thick wall of mana surprised the Wyrmling, its snarl turning into a pained hiss as it impacted the unexpected obstacle. The monster bounced back, the spell fading away. It would take a bit for the enchantment on the ring to recharge, but it had done its job. Rowan¡¯s eyes narrowed, his focus sharpening. He had one shot at this. Momentum won fights, and once Rowan got it, he wasn¡¯t allowed to let it go. He stopped absorbing mana from the vent, the strain lessening. Immediately after, he started lowering his infusions. The heat prickled at his exposed skin, uncomfortable and heavy. It was harder for Rowan to breathe, the air dense with the foreign mana exuding from the ground. Thankfully, his coat covered most of his body, its enchantments protecting him from the heat.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. But he could deal with uncomfortable, it was a much better option than being dead. Rowan raised an arm into the air. Shine, he intoned. [Flash] was a Whisper-level spell, but that didn¡¯t mean it wasn¡¯t useful. A burst of blinding light flooded the cavern. Rowan covered his eyes with his arm, shielding himself from his own spell. Kai, perched high above, let out an indignant squawk but stayed clear of the worst of it. The Wyrmlings shrieked in pain and confusion, their glowing eyes snapping shut as they thrashed around blindly. Rowan didn¡¯t hesitate. He targeted the nearest Wyrmling, channeling another quick [Firebolt]. Without the strain of infusing his body and drawing mana from the vent, his channels felt as light as a feather. He put a tremendous amount of mana into the spell, empowering it even further. A high Silver-ranked monster¡¯s durability wasn¡¯t something to scoff at. If Rowan wanted to punch through those scales, he needed more. Piercing Flame. It blurred through the air, reaching its target in less than a second. The Wyrmling was blind and unbalanced, the [Wind Barrier] doing what he¡¯d hoped for. The spell hit true. It tore into the beast¡¯s side, breaking scales and leaving a charred wound across its torso. The Wyrmling roared, staggering but refusing to fall. Meanwhile, Kai saw his opening. With a sharp caw, his familiar dove toward another blinded Wyrmling, talons outstretched. He aimed for its eyes, trying to turn its temporary blindness permanent. The beast snarled, shaking its head violently to ward him off, but Kai¡¯s claws left deep gouges along its snout. Rowan aimed his hand towards the third Wyrmling, the strongest of the three, the one standing farther back. He¡¯d been keeping track of them in his head, and this one had been the most cautions. It was letting the other two apply pressure, observing him. Taking out the biggest threat made the most sense. Mana erupted from his Core. It followed a familiar circuit, weaving and splitting into three different strands. With all his focus on the spell, it took Rowan less than three seconds before a [Fireball] bloomed to life in the palm of his hand. The radiant orb almost blinding in its intensity. Compressed Ember. His Intent finished off the spell, and Rowan let it fly. The Wyrmling recovered faster than he¡¯d anticipated. It shook its head, blinking open its eyes just in time to see the [Fireball] hurtling towards it. Yet instead of panic, Rowan saw anger in them. A shimmering coating of Fire covered the front of its body, the effects similar to a [Fire Barrier]. But even that wasn¡¯t enough. Being a Chant-level spell wasn¡¯t just for show. Rowan¡¯s [Fireball] erupted against the Wyrmling, the force pushing it back all the way to the cavern walls. Its barrier cracked under the strain, the pained roar that tore through its throat swallowed up by the massive explosion. He doubted it was dead, but Rowan had a feeling that particular threat wouldn¡¯t be rejoining the fight. The Wyrmling closest to him managed to recover. Wounded, desperate, and enraged, it lunged at Rowan, its claws scraping against the rocky ground as it charged. He released another [Firebolt] straight at its head. The spell came to him as easily as blinking, his mastery over it astonishing, even to himself. It slammed into the Wyrmling¡¯s open jaws. The resulting explosion silenced its roar, sending the beast¡¯s body crumpling to the ground in a smoking heap. One down. Rowan didn¡¯t have time to celebrate. The Wyrmling Kai had been harassing roared, glaring at him with bloodied eyes, its maw curling into a snarl as it began pooling mana into its throat. A faint glow appeared in its gullet, the cracks between its scales shining like fiery veins. Some kind of [Flame Breath], Rowan realized, his mana already moving, racing to complete the circuit. ¡°Up!¡± he shouted. His familiar broke off immediately, flapping back to the relative safety of the cavern''s ceiling. Repelling Blaze. A [Fire Barrier] of his own appeared in front of him. It was just large enough to cover half his body, so Rowan crouched down and got ready to take the monster''s attack. Its jaws opened with a thunderous roar, a torrent of flames spewing from its throat. A few seconds passed, and Rowan felt his Core dip below three quarters for the first time today. His first instinct was to start drawing from the vent again. But that would have been a mistake. He needed speed more than efficiency right now, and while having a full Core would make him feel safer, it wouldn¡¯t actually accomplish that. Once the flames subsided, Rowan dropped his barrier and sprang to his feet. Piercing Flame. The concentrated projective shot forward, striking the Wyrmling in its chest. The beast screeched as the spell¡¯s impact left a gaping, smoldering wound. It stumbled but didn¡¯t fall, its determination unwavering. Rowan scowled. Fucking Silver-ranks The token pulsed brightly¡ªa signal that it was half-way done. Thirty seconds wasn¡¯t a long time, and as he looked at the two Wyrmlings left¡ªOne bruised and bloody, the other just now managing to get to its feet¡ªRowan started thinking he might even manage to win before he left. But then a low growl echoed through the cavern, followed by the sound of claws scraping against stone. Rowan turned to see another Wyrmling emerge from the shadows, followed by three more. Their slitted eyes glowed faintly, malice radiating from their reptilian forms. Rowan¡¯s stomach sank. Six. There¡¯s six of them now. He quickly scanned the newcomers, and while what he saw did made him feel a bit better, it wasn¡¯t by a whole lot.
Level: 16
Body: Iron III [11 Levels]
Core: Red [5 Levels]
Level: 14
Body: Iron II [9 Levels]
Core: Red [5 Levels]
Level: 14
Body: Iron II [9 Levels]
Core: Red [5 Levels]
Level: 12
Body: Iron I [7 Levels]
Core: Red [5 Levels]
¡°Kai!¡± Rowan shouted, his voice sharp with urgency. ¡°Close!¡± His familiar hesitated for only a moment before diving toward him. Kai latched onto Rowan¡¯s belt, his wings wrapping around his torso. Rowan took a deep breath, closing his coat tightly around his familiar. He couldn¡¯t stop six of them from closing the distance. And once one did, he was as good as dead. They might have been weaker than the first three, but sometimes, quantity was all you needed. With no other choice, he started drawing from the vent again. It took him a few precious seconds to manage it again, and in that time, the Wyrmlings were already closing the distance. Their lithe bodies practically flew across the ground, Rowan doing nothing to slow them down. His Core burned hot, the strain of drawing, infusing, and casting once more requiring all of his focus. His head pounded, but he didn¡¯t let up. Repelling Blaze. Rowan pulled a tremendous amount of mana from his Core, empowering the spell. For a moment, the vent couldn¡¯t keep up, the cost overshadowing the amount he drew in. He crouched down, the [Fire Barrier] covering them both like a protective bubble. The token hummed steadily, a rune slowly burning away. Rowan gritted his teeth. Damn you, work faster! His arms tightened around his torso, holding his coat closed. Kai let out a low trill, struggling against the heat. ¡°Just hold on,¡± Rowan muttered softly, his brow scrunched in concentration. ¡°I¡¯ll get us home.¡± And then, like a hammer falling, the Wyrmlings reached him. Glowing claws raked across his shield, each strike ripping away chunks of his mana. Jagged fangs followed, with another flurry of claws landing moments later. Their onslaught was unrelenting, and the only thing Rowan could do was try and hold on. Chapter 22 - The Scorched Plateau V The six Wyrmlings battered Rowan¡¯s shield, their attacks relentless and varied. One of the weaker beasts raked flaming claws against the shimmering surface, trying to gouge out his Intent with its own. Another swung its glowing tail like a hammer, each blow sending sharp vibrations through his defenses. At the back, one spat what looked like [Firebolt]¡¯s, while the other exhaled a torrent of flames, attempting to suffocate him under the searing heat. But the two strongest Wyrmlings were the real threat. One of the Silver-ranked beasts clamped its jaws onto the barrier, teeth glowing with heat as its own Intent gnawed away at Rowan¡¯s mana. Its partner, slitted eyes unblinking, pressed its snout against the shield, its will crashing against Rowan¡¯s like a tidal wave. He gritted his teeth, sweat dripping down his brow. Every claw, Every snap of fangs, every fiery spell chipped away at his reserves, pushing him a step closer to collapse. The heat inside the bubble was oppressive. His breathing grew shallow, the air heavy. Every second stretched into what felt like hours, and still, the teleportation token tucked into his belt glowed faintly¡ªfar from ready to whisk them away to safety. Kai let out a soft, distressed trill, his wings pulling tighter around Rowan¡¯s torso as if to shield himself from the heat. ¡°Just a bit more, buddy,¡± Rowan muttered, his voice hoarse. ¡°Just a bit more.¡± The Wyrmlings grew feral. Their attacks came faster, harder, their screeches echoing through the cavern like a discordant symphony of violence. But Rowan refused to panic. Trust the tools in your hands and the strength of your will, and no obstacle shall ever waylay you for long. His father¡¯s voice echoed in his mind, unbidden but steadying. The memory didn¡¯t bring sorrow this time¡ªonly steel. Rowan¡¯s eyes burned with determination. I am not going to die to a bunch of fucking lizards. The two strongest Wyrmlings, realizing that their assault wasn¡¯t having an effect, changed tactics. Instead of battering his shield, they went after the source, directly clamping their Intents onto the mana spewing up from the vent. Contesting his own. The other four continued their assault, slowly whittling away at his reserves. The effect was immediate. If it had been a contest of raw Intent, Rowan could have crushed them. Their Cores were weaker, their wills unrefined. But Rowan¡¯s focus was split in too many different directions: drawing mana from the vent, keeping his shield intact, and maintaining his Intent against the assault. The strain was growing overwhelming. His mind was stretched thin, balancing on the edge of collapse. He felt his control slipping, the Wyrmlings carving small victories as they siphoned fragments of his mana away. Keeping this delicate balance took every ounce of concentration Rowan had. Juggling one need against another, and if even a single one faltered, it would spell his end. Rowan withdrew deeper into himself. Forgoing all distractions, pushing them as far back as they could go. In this moment, there was only him, and his mana. Nothing else mattered. He¡¯d wanted to push his abilities, and it seemed like his wish had come true. This was his domain. His calling. These monsters wanted to beat him with his own sword, and he¡¯d be damned if he let that happen. His mind slipped into an unfamiliar sort of meditation, the outside world fading away. A strange calm settled over him, soft and weightless. The frantic chaos of the cavern dimmed, the pounding in his head and the blistering heat fading to distant murmurs. His eyes fluttered closed. Draw the mana in, he thought, fighting against the two Wyrmlings trying to take what was his. Funnel it through your body, he did so, fighting against the power trying to overwhelm him. ¡°Channel it and imbue your Intent,¡± he whispered, reinforcing his spell. Each second was a triumph. His mind pushed to its limit trying to keep the delicate house of cards he¡¯d built from toppling. But even when you do everything right, sometimes, it just isn¡¯t enough. The two Wyrmlings managed to subdue a sliver of his Intent. Diverting the mana from the vent to their own ends. It was less than a tenth. An amount that shouldn¡¯t have mattered or changed anything. But it was enough for his reserves to start dropping. The cost of channeling his shield grew higher than what he managed to draw into himself. Rowan desperately tried to claw back the slivers of mana the Wyrmlings stole. Yet as he did so, his control over the spell wavered, his Intent buckled, and his focus faltered. It took every shred of willpower he had at his disposal to not let everything implode. Rowan quickly pulled back, stabilizing what he could and trying to keep his death at bay. He somehow managed it, but the damage had already been done.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Two more slivers of mana went towards the monsters and his reserves started dropping even faster. Rowan was stuck in a furious tug of war, yet that strange calmness never left him. The longer it went on, the deeper into it he fell. As he blinked open his eyes, what greeted him wasn¡¯t the sight of six monsters vying for his blood, but a small island surrounded by a seemingly endless sea. Rowan found himself sitting cross-legged on soft sand. The waters were unnaturally still, their surface reflecting the faint glow of an unseen light. A warm breeze brushed against his face, carrying a strange sense of familiarity. ¡°What is this place,¡± Rowan whispered, his voice echoing across the barren island. He stood up, and the world seemed to move with him, the sand yielding beneath his steps before smoothing itself over, leaving no trace. He reached the water¡¯s edge, drawn by its stillness. ¡°Like polished glass,¡± he muttered, kneeling down. His reflection stared back at him, but it wasn¡¯t just his face he saw. The water shimmered with strange, radiant threads that twisted and flowed beneath the surface, a vast network of power he couldn¡¯t even begin to comprehend. ¡°This isn¡¯t real,¡± he said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. But as he ran his fingers through the water, feeling its coolness, he couldn¡¯t deny its presence. Time moved differently here. The frantic seconds ticking away in the cavern felt like distant memories, muted and insignificant. Yet Rowan could still feel his reserves dropping, his shield slowly faltering. But there was something about this place. Something that told him he¡¯d find the strength he needed here. Looking up at the sky, Rowan knew that the only thing he needed to do to return was will himself away, but he didn¡¯t do that. Not yet. There was nothing but a quick death waiting for him if he left. And if he wanted to do something about it, he needed to find a solution. As his reserves dropped below half, Rowan waded into the shallows, his legs cutting through the tranquil surface. At thirty percent, he knelt, cupping the water in his hands, watching as the strange threads swirled and coiled between his fingers. At twenty, his Core screamed in protest, his shield on the brink of collapse. Desperation tried to claw away at his resolve, but here, in this space, desperation felt distant. Almost irrelevant. And at ten, Rowan drank his fill. The water was cool and impossibly smooth, sliding down his throat with a strange weightlessness. It tasted of nothing and everything¡ªa purity he couldn¡¯t put into words. The moment he swallowed, Rowan¡¯s world fractured. His eyes snapped open. The cavern roared back to life, the heat and chaos crashing over him like a tidal wave. His shield shattered in an instant, the spell collapsing under the strain. The mana from the vent dissipated, leaving Rowan bare before the Wyrmlings. But his Core¡­ His Core burned with an intensity he¡¯d never felt before. Power¡ªraw, unbridled, and terrifying¡ªflooded through his channels, filling them to bursting. Pain followed a heartbeat later, a searing agony that wracked his entire body. Rowan screamed, his muscles convulsing as the energy tore through him. His channels felt like they were splintering apart, unable to contain the force surging through him. His mind teetered on the edge of oblivion, but something deep within him stirred. Control it. The thought was not his own, yet it resonated with undeniable clarity. Rowan latched onto it, using the last shreds of his willpower to grasp the storm raging within him. And then, amidst the agony, there was clarity¡ªa single thought, unbidden yet undeniable. Whatever was coursing through his channels wasn¡¯t mana. It was different, and foreign. But even still, Rowan could feel the potential just waiting to be unleashed. The words echoed in his mind, and with them came an overwhelming surge of will. Rowan drew on that strange energy, shaping it with nothing but sheer desperation. I¡­ I want¡­ he tried to think, yet his mind was sluggish, but as Kai pressed himself closer against his chest, a thought crystalized. I want them¡­ Gone. For a heartbeat, the cavern fell silent. Then, with a soundless explosion, a wave of force erupted from his body. It was almost gentle, like the first breath of wind before a storm. And then it struck. The Wyrmlings didn¡¯t stand a chance. The unseen blast slammed into them with the force of a hurricane, flinging their bodies across the cavern like broken dolls, colliding with the cavern walls in sickening crunches. Bones shattered, scales cracked, and the once-proud predator fell lifeless to the ground. The walls shook as the blast hit, dust raining down from above. Rowan collapsed right along with them, his body trembling uncontrollably. His vision blurred, the edges of the world darkening as unconsciousness closed it. Kai stirred weakly against his chest, his faint trill the only thing keeping him anchored. A small, broken smile touched his lips. ¡°Can¡¯t believe¡­ we won¡­¡± he whispered, the words barely audible. He¡¯d touched upon something dangerous today. Something frightening and mesmerizing in equal measure. All six Wyrmlings lay dead and broken, scattered around the cavern. And while the pain radiating from his Core and his channels felt different¡ªmore intense¡ªthan ever before, he much preferred it to the alternative. As the token finally activated, spiriting them away to safety, Rowan¡¯s last thought before unconsciousness took him wasn¡¯t on the Wyrmlings, nor the power he¡¯d unleashed. It was of the strange, still water¡ªand the cost it had exacted on his body. . . . Far to the north, a woman sat atop a mountain. She wore plain, unadorned armor, her feet bare, unbothered by the snow as she looked out across the Wilds. The enormous beast she came here to slay stirred, and with barely a thought, the woman shot a fragment of jagged energy into its skull. ¡°Enough of that,¡± she said, not even looking at the monster. ¡°I¡¯m trying to focus.¡± It had been a strange few months. Ever since little Roro had the brilliant idea to scamper off, she¡¯d gotten the unfortunate duty of tracking him down. I take my eyes off him for one minute, and the menace burns down a mansion. She sighed, standing up and running a hand through her ashen gray hair. ¡°I just hope you didn¡¯t get yourself killed,¡± she muttered, drawing mana from her Core. ¡°The last thing I need is your mother''s ghost haunting me.¡± With a single step, she appeared high overhead. Her Domain erupted from her body, a silent and undetectable pulse of perception that filled her mind with everything it touched. From the worms crawling deep beneath the earth, to the griffins flying high overhead. And still, no Duke. The ashen-haired woman scowled. ¡°Stupid Vault,¡± she grumbled. ¡°Who in their right mind gives a kid teleportation tokens? That¡¯s just asking for trouble.¡± With a slight working of Intent, she appeared back on the mountaintop, laying back against the soft fur of the slain Arctic Roc. Waving her hand, the monster''s skull soundlessly split open. With a wet crunch, its brain condensed into a pellet the size of her pinky, floating to her palm. The woman popped it into her mouth, savoring the rich flavour. ¡°This is taking longer than I thought it would,¡± she muttered to herself. ¡°It¡¯s not like he had a wide range to choose from. Rowan was always the smart one. He had to have picked one of the weaker regions.¡± She¡¯d already checked the Stormspire Heights, and the Onyx Sands. That only left three more regions, but even with all the power she had at her disposal, it was a monumental task. The Wilds were a lot of things, and massive was definitely one of them. I wonder how strong he¡¯s gotten, she couldn¡¯t help but think, a faint smile tugging at her lips. It¡¯s been almost half a year. He¡¯s bound to have gotten something useful out of that trait of his by now. Just then, something tugged at her perception. Something small, almost insignificant. Like a leaf rippling against a calm lake. Lyriel stood up, her gaze moving towards the west. She strained her senses, pushing them as far as they could go, but even a Purple-Core mage had limits. ¡°Huh,¡± she muttered, a thoughtful expression on her face. ¡°I wonder what that was.¡± The Sunswept Marshes were in that direction, beyond them, the Ebonwood Basin, and even further still, the Scorched Plateau. It was probably nothing, but Lyriel had a nagging feeling she should probably check it out. And over the course of her very long life, she¡¯d learned to trust those. ¡°Well, a quick detour shouldn¡¯t hurt.¡± And with that, she disappeared from the mountaintop. The corpse of an Ebony-Ranked monster the only thing left behind in her wake. Chapter 23 - Consequences Rowan¡¯s mind was cloudy. He drifted in and out of consciousness, the hard wooden floor of his room digging into his back. It was a relief to know they¡¯d made it back, even if he couldn¡¯t properly appreciate it at the moment. Thoughts of the still sea fluttered through his mind. Of that warm wind against his brow, the soft sand beneath his feet, and that radiant liquid making its way down his throat. It had filled his Core and channels to bursting with a strange sort of energy, different from either of his affinities. Those had an inherent Intent¡ªFire would always burn, and Wind would always blow. No matter his skill, Rowan couldn¡¯t change that. But this energy had been different. Pure potential. There had only been one thought in his mind when he¡¯d drawn it from that sea. To make the Wyrmlings gone. Dealt with as a threat. And in that moment of desperation, it had made that happen. The explosion that followed had been pure, soundless force, blowing their bodies away like ragdolls and plastering them against the walls like soft clay. But it had left its mark. Rowan¡¯s channels were raw, strained beyond what they could take. So in and out of consciousness he went, waking only long enough for the pain rampaging through his body to throw him back under. In the end, what finally woke him was a soft tapping against his cheek, accompanied by soft, concerned caws. Rowan worked against the fog, forcing his mind to focus. It wasn¡¯t just his spirit that was sore, but his body was as well. He was covered in soot, his exposed skin red and angry from the heat. Rowan¡¯s breathing grew shallow, and the tapping became more insistent, keeping his mind focused on the task. With an effort of will, Rowan pulled a healing potion from his ring. A sharp pain tore through him, his fingers clenching around the vial. Every single muscle in Rowan¡¯s body tightened, a muffled groan escaping his lips, his throat too tense for anything else. Once more unconsciousness threatened to claim him, to safeguard his mind from the pain. But Rowan fought back. He forced his eyes to flutter open, moving the potion closer to his lips. He popped open the cork with his thumb, pouring it down his throat. It did nothing for the pain he felt in his spirit, but his convulsing muscles slowly calmed, his throat relaxing. It allowed more of the healing liquid to drip into his mouth, and slowly, his back straightened. Rowan grunted as he pushed himself up, looking around his room. A crystal as large as his hand lay next to him, the enchantments chiseled into its surface glowing faintly. The beacon had done its job. They managed to get home. Kai let out a soft trill, climbing onto his lap and nuzzling his beak against his chest. Rowan chuckled, wincing as another sharp pulse of pain tore through him. He might have been alive, but that didn¡¯t mean he was whole. For now, he ignored the way his Core felt dim, the way his channels felt clogged and heavy. He wrapped an arm around his familiar, lightly scratching the back of his neck. ¡°Told you I¡¯d get us home,¡± he said, groaning in effort as he stood back up, moving to the bed. Dust and blood clung to him, but Rowan didn¡¯t care. The only thing he wanted right now was to lie down. He sat on the edge, swinging his legs over with visible effort. He looked over his familiar, noticing the way he cradled his wing, his once pristine feathers singed and burnt. ¡°Well, we can¡¯t have that,¡± Rowan muttered. He closed his eyes, tightly gripping the sheets in preparation for the discomfort to come. A low hiss tore out of his throat, agony tearing through his channels. But Rowan pushed through, another vial appearing in his hand a heartbeat later. He took a moment, his teeth clenched tightly, face scrunched up in pain. Probably best I don¡¯t do that again, Rowan thought, sweat dripping down his back. The fight against the Wyrmlings had left him in an unexpected state. One Rowan hadn¡¯t expected to face. His trait had always taken care of it, but it seems he finally found a limit. I just had to go and get my soul injured, he thought ruefully, uncorking the vial. Kai took it with his beak and drank. It acted quickly. His familiar settled in, letting the potion do its work. Rowan sighed, closing his eyes. He spent a few minutes letting the tension leave his shoulders, content in the knowledge that they managed to come out on top. ¡°That sure went sideways quickly,¡± he muttered softly. Kai trilled, his healthy wing flapping playfully at Rowan¡¯s face. ¡°I think I underestimated just how much noise I was making,¡± he sighed. ¡°We were there for what, half an hour? And with the rate I was getting better, I think I threw somewhere around a hundred [Fireball]¡¯s,¡± he snorted. ¡°Don¡¯t know how I thought that wouldn¡¯t attract attention from deeper in.¡± He tried to go over his thoughts during the fight, but everything since mastering [Fireball] was a blur. His rapid progress had left him feeling restless. Hungry for more. And all of it had mixed into a perfect cocktail designed to make him stupid.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. I should have activated the token as soon as the first Wyrmling showed up. If I just thought for a moment instead of letting my confidence get the better of me, I¡¯d have realized that more had to have been coming. They¡¯re pack hunters for gods sake. It was hard not to feel angry at himself. His recklessness had almost cost him everything. And if he hadn¡¯t pulled whatever that energy was out of his ass, there would be no almost about it. Rowan sighed, running a shaky hand through his hair. It was an ongoing issue. One he just couldn¡¯t seem to shake. His first instinct was always to go forward, not back. And while that had served him so far, it wouldn¡¯t last. It couldn¡¯t. One mistake and Rowan would join his family in the afterlife. His potential unexplored, his goals unfulfilled. It was a hard balance to find. Weighing the likelihood of death against the progress he would make wasn¡¯t a skill Rowan had mastered yet, and he doubted he would any time soon. You can¡¯t grow strong in a library, he thought to himself. Risk and reward were intertwined, and with the path Rowan was walking, he¡¯d need a whole lot of the latter. The fight had brought him to the brink of death, but Rowan survived. And in the end, that was the only thing that mattered. It had been a close call, with just a few seconds separating him and Kai from oblivion. Yet here he was, in his bed, while the Wyrmlings lay broken and lifeless back in the cavern. Rowan winced, the pain in his spirit flaring up. ¡°That might be a problem,¡± he muttered, taking a deep, calming breath. His soul being injured had consequences Rowan didn¡¯t want to think about yet. There wasn¡¯t anything he could do about it right now, so he set his mind towards a problem he could solve. There were ways to deal with pain, no matter where it came from. Rowan forced his mind to still, clearing his thoughts and steadying his breathing. He slipped into meditation with unexpected ease, the technique coming to him easier than ever before. There had to have been a reason for that, but Rowan pushed his curiosity away. He¡¯d have time to think about that once he dealt with the issue at hand. Mainly, him feeling like someone ran him over with a wagon. As his breathing calmed, he held an image in his head. Rowan imagined a raging current, stretching from horizon to horizon. He waited a moment, and when no pain came, he continued. The Rivers and Waves technique wasn¡¯t magical in nature, it was a mind construct. A way for him to manifest his pain in a form he could affect. He appeared on a riverbank, the shore littered with pebbles, rocks, and boulders. As Rowan stood there, he couldn¡¯t help but compare the turbulent river in front of him to the calm sea from where he drew that power. It was a stark difference, yet he wondered if there was some kind of connection. Not the time, he reminded himself. If he let his curiosity run free, it would take a while for him to rein it in. There were questions he desperately wanted the answers to, but they would have to wait. Besides, if Rowan was right about how much damage his spirit suffered, he¡¯d have a while to think them through. Kneeling down, he picked up a small pebble¡ªbarely larger than one of his knuckles¡ªand threw it into the river. The rock floated on the surface, fighting against the current to stay afloat. But in the end, the river won, pulling it into itself and out of sight. It wasn¡¯t gone. Rowan knew the current still held it, just waiting to dislodge it further downstream. But in the moment, a small sliver of pain went along with it. Rowan didn¡¯t know how long he stood there. Picking up pebble after pebble, rock after rock, boulder after boulder. He threw each one as far as they could go. The river swallowed them all, the smaller ones going willingly while the biggest battled against the current. But the longer he kept at it, the less cluttered the riverbank became. And then, after what might have been a minute or an hour, he was done. Rowan slowly blinked open his eyes, his vision blurry but his body surprisingly light. Kai slept beside him, nestled in a mound of blankets twisted into a makeshift nest. Making sure not to disturb him, Rowan made his way out of bed and towards the bathroom. His trip to the Plateau had left him covered in grime and soot. Not to mention something slimy on his sleeves that he really hoped wasn¡¯t brains. The Rivers and Waves was a bandage more than a cure, but for now, it was enough. After a nice, long shower and a warm meal, Rowan moved to the living room. He sat down on a plush chair, crossing his legs and closing his eyes. Where do I even start? he thought. I advanced my Core, mastered a Chant, and fought off a horde of Wyrmlings. Rowan chuckled, shaking his head. Busy day. The calm of his house in Litwick was a sharp contrast to the chaotic atmosphere of the cavern. He still felt the aftershocks of the battle, an anxiety at the back of his mind that just wouldn¡¯t go away. But all of that paled in comparison to how it ended. Rowan¡¯s thoughts drifted to that still sea. To the power it seemed to hold, to the feeling of it flowing through his throat. It had filled him with something he couldn¡¯t quite describe. But he did have his guesses. It had something to do with my trait. My soul. There¡¯s nothing else it could be. As he pulled out his stats, something else caught his eye.
Name: Rowan Undomniel Athlain
Title: [Duke of Eiseylth]
Trait: [Immortal Soul]
Core: Orange [29%] [10 Levels]
Affinity: Fire, Wind
Body: Bronze I [1 Level]
Level: 11
Strength: 14
Dexterity: 30
Vitality: 25
Intelligence: 45
Willpower: 22
Focus 17 ¡ú 27
¡°What the¡­¡± he muttered, frowning in confusion. ¡°My Core¡­ it went up?¡± Rowan looked further down, his eyes widening further. ¡°My Focus too?¡± The fact that his Core went up in strength was somewhat understandable. That strange energy had filled it to the brim, expanding it by a substantial margin. But his stats going up was another thing entirely. That was something reserved for alchemy of the highest level¡ªnot something an Orange-Core mage should have been able to do. His mind raced, and it didn¡¯t take long for a realization to dawn on him. If I could repeat it, do it consistently¡­ Just how fast could I advance? His rate of progression was already prodigious. And if he managed to master whatever aspect of his trait he¡¯d glimpsed, there was no telling how much more he could push it. Rowan had expected it would take him decades to reach the realm of power he was pushing towards. It was a stark improvement to the centuries it took most other mages, but it was a long time still. This might turn that into years. Rowan¡¯s hands shook with excitement, his lips curling up into a giddy smile. His task had seemed so overwhelming, and while he¡¯d never said it aloud, Rowan had spent more than a few nights lying awake, wondering if it was a fool¡¯s endeavor. There was no doubt someone powerful was involved in the death of his family. And if he had to guess, Rowan would pin the act on one of the other Great Houses. That was the only thing that made sense. They¡¯re the ones who benefited the most. Taking over our lands, our people. Lining their pockets with my birthright. Rowan''s teeth clenched at the thought, rekindling the anger he had fought so hard to keep buried. It took him a minute to calm down. There wasn¡¯t anything he could do but continue growing stronger. Having the strength to single-handedly contend against a Great House was the height of arrogance. Each one had dozens of Archmages, thousands of warriors at Ebony or higher, all of them strong enough to wave Rowan out of existence. But it wouldn¡¯t always be like that. A single sip of that water had unleashed more power than his strongest spell magnified tenfold. And somewhere inside him, there was an ocean. It took a moment for that thought to settle, and when it did, a strange chill overtook him. Rowan glanced down at his hands. ¡°How much power am I holding inside me?¡± he whispered. A mouthful had been enough to destroy a cavern. What would happen if he drank his fill? Or if he somehow managed to release all of it? Would the explosion destroy the city? The region? Or maybe even more? Rowan stood up, walking to the window with unsteady steps. The sun hung low in the sky, painting it a soft orange. Rowan could hear the streets of Litwick slowly filling with people, going out to supper, or more likely, a tavern. He tried to cast the simplest spell he knew, [Heat]. But before the mana even exited his Core, the pain returned, his channels vehemently protesting the strain. Rowan sighed, trying not to grow overwhelmed. His magic¡ªa constant companion since he Awakened, the comforting source of energy he¡¯d spent his youth wishing for¡ªwas gone. Barred to him. Closing his eyes, he released a long, drawn-out breath. ¡°I need a damn drink.¡± Chapter 24 - The Guild Hall The air outside was crisp, the kind of cool evening breeze that carried the faint scent of damp earth and woodsmoke. Rowan pulled his coat tighter around himself, his steps light yet deliberate as he made his way through the cobbled streets of Litwick. The town was alive with the soft hum of activity¡ªmerchants packing up their stalls, lamplighters igniting the lanterns that illuminated the streets, and the faint laughter of revelers spilling out from the taverns and inns that dotted the main thoroughfare. His body still ached from the ordeal in the Plateau, the residual pain a constant reminder of how close he¡¯d come to ending up as a lizard''s dinner. His Core felt dim, his channels sluggish, but Rowan pushed those thoughts aside. Right now, he had a different goal in mind. It had been almost a week since Rowan had last left his house. Seven days of grueling focus, advancement, and all-around boredom. Well, besides that part at the end. That was as far from boring as it gets. But tonight wasn¡¯t about reflection. It was about something far simpler: a drink, and some good company to go along with it. Rowan¡¯s lips twitched into a faint smile as he approached the Guild Hall, the familiar sight easing some of the tension from his shoulders. The massive structure loomed ahead, its stone walls etched with years of wear and its thick wooden doors practically radiating warmth. The faint hum of a busy night reached him even before he stepped inside¡ªthe clinking of tankards, the muffled banter of adventurers, and the occasional cheer coming from what he assumed was the arena. I hope the team¡¯s here, he thought, stepping inside. Warmth enveloped him, along with the unmistakable scent of ale, sweat, and the faint metallic tang of recently sharpened weapons. Rowan looked around, searching for anyone familiar. When he didn¡¯t find them, he moved deeper in, going to the back. Probably at the training yard. They spent most of their time there¡ªworking on their skills, sparring, and pushing themselves in anticipation of the next challenge. The backyard of the Guild Hall was a sprawling space, dotted with sparring circles, training dummies, and scattered groups of adventurers in various stages of practice. It didn¡¯t take him long to spot them. Nemir was leaning against a post, his greatsword in hand as he lazily inspected the edge. Omi stood nearby, watching Annie demonstrate a series of rapid strikes on a worn practice dummy. Her spear moved with frightening precision, the thuds of her blows audible even over the din of the yard. And then there was Silvia, standing next to a familiar figure. They were a little apart from the others, with Zoe crouched over a small bundle of herbs, her lips moving in what Rowan guessed was some sort of incantation. Her wheat-white hair caught the light of the torches scattered around the yard, and her forest-green eyes flickered upward as she caught sight of him approaching. Rowan raised a hand, a smile on his face. ¡°Would you look at that,¡± he called out. ¡°If it isn¡¯t the hardest working team in Litwick.¡± Annie paused mid-swing, turning to look at him. ¡°Well, well, well,¡± she smirked, stabbing her spear into the ground. ¡°Still alive, huh?¡± ¡°What? Disappointed?¡± She snorted, crossing her arms. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say that.¡± Nemir walked over, clasping his forearm. ¡°So, are you finally going to share what¡¯s got you holed up for so long?¡± Rowan raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he glanced at Nemir. ¡°I might. But I''d much rather do it over a drink.¡± Silvia stepped closer, looking him over with a critical eye. ¡°Something¡¯s different about you,¡± she muttered, circling him. ¡°You look like you went ten rounds with a troll and came out¡­ well, alive, at least.¡± ¡°Hey now,¡± Rowan replied, feigning offense. ¡°I¡¯ll have you know I took a bath before coming here. Even added a bit of soap.¡± ¡°Truly a man of culture,¡± Omi snorted. Zoe nodded towards him, holding a pack of bundled herbs in her arms. ¡°Congratulations on advancing.¡± That passed through the group like a wave, and Rowan barely managed to suppress a sigh. Way to pop my bubble. Annie grinned after she scanned him. ¡°So that¡¯s what you were working on,¡± she said, clapping him on the back. ¡°Surprise,¡± Rowan smiled. ¡°I told you I hate surprises,¡± she laughed. ¡°But alright. This one isn¡¯t all bad.¡± The rest of them joined in, and pretty soon Rowan was flooded with congratulations and an even bigger number of questions. He had his own set for them, so he herded them away from the yard and towards the Hall. The team picked up their gear and obliged. There was a lot to talk about. The reason Rowan had finally focused on advancing had been the encounter with Killian, and ever since Annie had told him the Silver-rank wanted a cut of the shaman''s Core, he¡¯d been expecting a knock on his door. But it hadn¡¯t come. Yet. His soul injury made that whole thing much more complicated. Because even though Rowan advanced, he was weaker than ever right now. Without access to his spells, there wasn¡¯t a lot he could do if things went sideways. Having the stats of someone at low Iron while at Bronze I was usually enough when he could explode his problems away, but if he fought someone now, he¡¯d most likely lose. No going on quests for a while, he thought, looking at the team. And I¡¯d feel better if they didn¡¯t go either. There was no telling how long it would take for him to heal. Rowan hoped his trait wasn¡¯t just for show, and that it¡¯d prove its worth now that he could really use it, but the only thing he could do was wait. This was his first time experiencing something like this. Depending on the severity, a soul injury could take anywhere between a week and a year to heal. But the System was deliberate in its naming, so Rowan had a feeling his recovery wouldn''t be quite so long. After all, an [Immortal Soul] should be able to take a bit of a beating. Rowan looked over at the new member of their group, which was another thing he wanted to hear about. He wasn¡¯t surprised by their decision to let her join. Having a healer was a massive boon. The worship of Eldara was widespread, even here in Litwick, but members of her order were rare. She could have joined any team she wanted, and ¡®Why them?¡¯ was a question Rowan was curious to hear the answer to. They entered the Guild Hall. The noise had only grown, more adventurers filling the space, and even a troupe playing in one of the corners. Rowan let the familiar atmosphere wash over him. This was exactly what he needed. A moment to just¡­ breathe. For a minute, he just stood there at the doors. As he did, a small, miniscule portion of the ache in his spirit disappeared, and Rowan couldn¡¯t help but smile.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Might take even shorter than a week, he thought. ¡°You coming?¡± Annie¡¯s voice broke him out of it. ¡°They found a table, and you¡¯re buying,¡± she said, nodding towards where the rest of the team was already sitting down, ordering a round. . . . The next hour passed faster than Rowan would have liked. They celebrated his advancement, his coin purse getting lighter by the minute. The conversation flowed freely, and he found out what he missed over the last week. Zoe hadn¡¯t been all that forthcoming about her reasons for joining them, and besides saying that it ¡®felt right¡¯, she didn¡¯t offer much else. But that was fine. Her reasons were her own, and it would be more than a bit hypocritical for him to pester someone about their secrets. Not to mention plain old rude. Silvia, Omi, and Annie all proudly showed off their new gear. The reward from the goblin quest had filled their pockets, and they decided to splurge. Silvia¡¯s new bow was made of hardened ironwood. Flexible and strong in equal measure. It was the perfect material for making a weapon that focused on range, and Rowan found himself surprised there was someone in Litwick capable of making it. Annie, on the other hand, had decided to strengthen her existing spear. There was a sharpness rune engraved into the blade now, and a durability one adoring the shaft. Omi had gone a different route, purchasing a pair of finely made boots. The muffle enchantment on their heels wasn¡¯t flashy, but for the rogue, it was exactly what he needed. Rowan realized something as they bragged about their purchases. Something he should have done as soon as he¡¯d advanced. He was so focused on playing with his new affinity and wanting to test himself that he¡¯d forgotten to really look over the Vault. The only thing he¡¯d taken had been the ring. And while it had certainly proven useful, Rowan really should have outfitted himself better. Now he couldn¡¯t. At least not until his soul healed up. Thinking about the Vault led to him wondering if he should share his gear with the team. There were items in there that would give them a substantial increase in fighting power. But it¡¯d also lead to questions. He couldn¡¯t exactly start pulling out suits of armor and a dozen different enchanted weapons for them to choose from without raising a few eyebrows. They knew he had a storage ring, but explaining the size could prove troublesome. In the end, Rowan decided he¡¯d make that decision when he actually needed to. The Vault wasn¡¯t going anywhere, and neither were they. He¡¯d have time to mull it over while he was healing. But the fun couldn¡¯t last forever. After a few drinks, he shoved away his plate and looked at Annie. ¡°Any news from the loan shark?¡± he asked, setting aside his mug. She sighed, the atmosphere immediately growing strained. ¡°His main group left on a quest a few days ago, guarding a caravan up to Tumbleton, so it¡¯s been quiet. But his team has some thirty-odd members. The ones he left behind are mostly low Iron. Nothing too troublesome, but they started getting annoying a few days back.¡± Rowan frowned. ¡°Annoying how?¡± Omi rolled his eyes. ¡°They¡¯re waiting for an opportunity to jump us, that¡¯s how,¡± he took a sip of his drink, not seeming too bothered by that fact. ¡°Not that it¡¯d do them much good,¡± he said with a wry smile. ¡°Well, besides getting some of their facial features rearranged.¡± ¡°I could assist,¡± Zoe added, nursing a glass of apple cider. ¡°Wrongly healing an injury is immensely painful. Not to mention making it much harder to mend.¡± A stunned silence fell over the table. Didn¡¯t expect that, Rowan thought, barely suppressing a chuckle. ¡°That is¡­ brutal,¡± Silvia muttered, a not-so-innocent twinkle in her eyes. She tried to put her arm around the healer, but Zoe scooted away with surprising agility. ¡°Was that not what we are going for?¡± she asked, glancing around the table with a curious expression. ¡°I like it,¡± Omi nodded. ¡°It¡¯s savage. In an almost artistic way.¡± ¡°Alright, let¡¯s not get carried away,¡± Nemir quickly interjected, raising his hands placatingly. ¡°As much as I don¡¯t like them and the way they do things, torture doesn¡¯t seem like the way to go.¡± ¡°Spoil sport,¡± Annie smirked, nudging the burly swordsman with her shoulder. ¡°Besides, I doubt they¡¯d try anything now that we have an Orange-core mage with us.¡± Rowan smiled, raising his mug. ¡°If they do, I¡¯ll make sure to bore them to death. Because right now, I doubt I can do much more.¡± His soul injury had one silver lining, and that was that it coincided with his advancement. Mages usually spend a few weeks recuperating after managing it, their Core¡¯s strained from the task. Him being out of commission was expected. Rowan had completely forgotten about that particular aspect of his craft. Which was understandable, seeing as he never thought he¡¯d have to actually deal with it. ¡°How long is it going to take for you to heal?¡± Nemir asked. Rowan sighed, tapping the edge of his mug. ¡°I¡¯m not exactly sure, but I¡¯d say around a week or two.¡± That was a complete guess, but Rowan trusted in his trait to get him through this. ¡°Might finally be time for you to work on getting a skill,¡± Annie suggested. ¡°Your body¡¯s fine, why not use it? Skin Toughening shouldn¡¯t take you that long.¡± ¡°That doesn''t sound like a good time,¡± Rowan muttered. ¡°Hitting myself with a stick for hours on end isn¡¯t my idea of fun.¡± But even as he complained, Rowan knew she was right. He wasn¡¯t planning on spending the next whoever knows how long just lying around. This was the perfect opportunity for him to work on advancing his body. And getting a skill would be helpful, in more ways than one. ¡°There are better ways to go about it,¡± Nemir said, a smile tugging at his lips. ¡°Is that what you think warriors do all day?¡± Annie snorted ¡°Hit stuff?¡± ¡°And get hit back,¡± Rowan added, earning himself a flick to the forehead in response. ¡°Hey!¡± he yelped, some of his ale spilling on the table. ¡°You¡¯re just proving my point.¡± Silvia finally stopped pestering Zoe, turning to Rowan. ¡°You¡¯d rather sleep under a tall oak for a week, taking in the sunshine and smelling the grass? Thinking really hard?¡± ¡°Honestly, yes,¡± he chuckled. ¡°But if there¡¯s a better way, I¡¯d be eager to hear it,¡± he said to Nemir. ¡°We can work on it tomorrow,¡± Nemir answered, taking in a spoonful of a hearty broth. Rowan nodded. ¡°Alright, I guess that¡¯s settled.¡± ¡°I still can¡¯t believe you spent a whole week doing nothing,¡± Silvia shook her head. ¡°My brain would literally melt if I had to do something like that.¡± ¡°Gods forbid,¡± Omi muttered, also earning himself a flick to the forehead. Rowan could have tried to argue that he was working on his Core, perfecting his craft, mastering the arcane arts. But he¡¯d tried to explain magic to her multiple times already, and it almost always ended with him getting a headache. ¡°Alright, it might not have been the most exciting few days. But it was more than worth it.¡± Mentioning his trip to the Plateau would have dealt with the accusation that he was doing nothing, but Rowan couldn¡¯t exactly mention it. The tokens weren¡¯t something he could easily explain. Rowan was fine with them thinking he was an apprentice sent out to get life experience, the same way he assumed another member of their team was. But even the richest people in the kingdom couldn¡¯t teleport halfway across it¡ªand back¡ªfor an afternoon trip the way Rowan was doing it. The tokens were by far the most expensive thing in the Vault¡ªat least of what he¡¯d gotten so far¡ªand if he showed them off, the only thing that would make sense was if he was a member of a Great House. His features would make narrowing it down even easier. Rowan¡¯s raven black hair and steely gray eyes could be explained by them being a coincidence. The kingdom was big, and there were bound to be people who looked similar to those in power. But if someone really looked¡ªwith the right lens¡ªit wouldn¡¯t be hard to see a member of House Athlain. And that was something Rowan wanted to avoid. He¡¯d like to think no one was looking for him, yet there was a nagging feeling at the back of his mind, telling him to be cautious. The other Great Houses had reasons for wanting him dead. His title was acknowledged by the System, and if they wanted it, there was only one way for them to get it. Rowan wasn¡¯t going to underestimate what an Archmage could do. Finding him wasn¡¯t going to be simple, but he wasn¡¯t going to make it easier for them just so he could brag to his friends. They were in a room filled with competent people, and even though the noise was customarily high, there was no telling who could overhear. ¡°You mages have it so easy,¡± Annie muttered. ¡°Meanwhile, I¡¯ve been swinging this hunk of wood around like mad for the last year, and I still haven¡¯t gotten my [Spear Mastery] up to Expert.¡± ¡°Having a Proficient skill at your level is already quite the achievement,¡± Zoe said. ¡°Advancing it to Expert before reaching Silver isn¡¯t something most are able to boast about.¡± Annie seemed taken aback by the compliment, and Rowan decided to save her from the monumental task of having to say thank you. ¡°How much did the Core end up selling for?¡± he asked, calling over a server and ordering another round. ¡°Seeing as Killian took an interest in it, it¡¯s got to be a pretty substantial sum.¡± ¡°1250 gold,¡± Omi answered, soundlessly tapping his new boots against the wooden floor. ¡°All in all, we made just north of two thousand gold on that quest.¡± ¡°More danger, more profit,¡± Annie shrugged, her lips curling down into a small frown. ¡°But if I¡¯m being honest, I thought it¡¯d last me longer,¡± she glanced at her spear. ¡°Enchantments have no business being this expensive.¡± Rowan ignored her complaining. ¡°He¡¯s asking for twenty percent, right?¡± Nemir frowned. ¡°Yes. Two hundred and fifty gold. To ¡®reimburse¡¯ him.¡± ¡°Well that''s not going to happen,¡± Annie said firmly. ¡°And they¡¯re not going to do shit about it. There were six more goblin pack sightings in the last week, not to mention one that turned out to be another makeshift village. The Guild is turtling up for the surge. No ¡®accidents¡¯ allowed.¡± ¡°Was there another shaman?¡± Rowan couldn¡¯t help but ask. Annie shook her head. ¡°No, just more hobgoblins. The Red Fangs are mostly a martial tribe, so they don¡¯t have a bunch of casters. They probably pulled them back.¡± That was good to hear, because if a tribe that focused on magic tried to settle here, Rowan doubted there would be much they could do. But those thankfully rarely made their way south. Their territories were inside mountains, or deep underground, their tribes secure against the surge. Just then, a group entered the Hall. Rowan glanced at them absentmindedly and went to look away, but a familiar face caught his eye. He frowned. ¡°That¡¯s the guy that was with Killian in the cave, right?¡± Rowan asked. ¡°Wisk?¡± Omi snorted. ¡°Close enough.¡± ¡°It¡¯s Misk,¡± Annie corrected him. ¡°He¡¯s in charge of the Steel Fist while the big bad Silver-rank is out of town.¡± The wiry-looking man didn¡¯t even spare them a glance, instead moving to a person sitting closer to the stage with a case clutched in his hands. Rowan looked closer. ¡°What do they want with the kid?¡± The boy was around fourteen, with a messy head of chestnut brown hair and his face still carrying a hint of adolescence. ¡°Guess we¡¯ll find out,¡± Annie replied, setting her mug down and turning her focus to the group of four menacing-looking adventures making their way across the Hall. Once they reached him, Misk didn¡¯t even hesitate. He grabbed the case and yanked it out of the boy''s hands. His eyes widened in surprise and alarm. ¡°Wait, don¡¯t!¡± he shouted as the thug opened it, revealing a beautifully crafted lyre. ¡°I paid for these strings, kid. And seeing as you decided to spit on my generosity, I¡¯m taking them back.¡± Rowan felt his anger stir. It was one thing to mess with fellow adventurers, people who could fight back. But it was another thing entirely to go after someone so much weaker than yourself. He scanned the kid, his frown deepening.
Level: 2
Body: Bronze II [2 Levels]
Core: N/A
And when he scanned the group, Rowan was already standing up.
Level: 15
Body: Iron V [15 Levels]
Core: N/A
Level: 11
Body: Iron III [11 Levels]
Core: N/A
Level: 11
Body: Iron III [11 Levels]
Core: N/A
Level: 9
Body: Iron II [9 Levels]
Core: N/A
There was something incredibly distasteful about taking a musician''s instrument away. And while right now there wasn¡¯t a lot Rowan could do if it turned into a fight, they didn¡¯t know that. You want to be annoying? Fine. Straightening up, he began walking towards them, the very image of a pissed-off mage. I can be annoying too. Chapter 25 - The Guild Hall II Rowan stepped closer to the group harassing the boy, his back straight, a disapproving scowl on his face. ¡°Do you really have nothing better to do than steal from a child?¡± At the sound of his voice, the thugs turned around. Misk, to his credit, recognized him right away. The other three, not so much. ¡°Ain¡¯t stealing,¡± one of the thugs answered, taking a step towards Rowan. ¡°The kid borrowed gold from us. Only fair he return it.¡± Not many people were paying attention to them yet. The Guild Hall saw more than its fair share of disagreements per night. So a group bickering wasn¡¯t a very interesting sight. One of the thugs had the presence of mind to scan him, and once he did, his eyes widened. ¡°Kiki,¡± he whispered urgently, grabbing the other thugs arm. ¡°He¡¯s a damned mage.¡± A frown appeared on the man¡¯s face, quickly replaced by a nervous expression once he confirmed it. ¡°I¡­¡± he glanced at Misk questioningly, as if asking what to do. Killian might have been confident when talking to Rowan, but that wasn¡¯t true for the rest of his team. Besides him, none of them had an Aura, meaning they had no way to deal with his spells. Not that I can cast any right now. But sometimes, appearing strong was all you needed. ¡°Ah, mage Jamis,¡± Misk said with a wry smile, immediately putting him on edge. ¡°And I see the rest of the Grove isn¡¯t far behind,¡± he chuckled, closing the case and placing it under his arm. Nemir and Annie had followed him, while Omi, Silvia and Zoe decided to stay behind, observing the situation from their table. The two of them alone were more than enough to deal with this group, and with Rowan here too, they made for quite the menacing trio. The swordsman stood a head taller than the man in front, his arms crossed. Rowan suppressed a smile. Way to loom. Annie, on the other hand, was a picture of lithe grace. Her hands held loosely by her sides, relaxed but ready to pounce. ¡°It seems congratulations are in order,¡± Misk said, seemingly unbothered by the three angry-looking adventurers standing in front of him. ¡°Advancing is always an occasion worth celebrating.¡± He smirked. ¡°I just hope it won¡¯t lay you out for too long.¡± Well, crap. This one is more perceptive than I hoped. ¡°Thanks,¡± Rowan nodded. ¡°But you still didn¡¯t answer my question.¡± Just because he wasn¡¯t able to cast spells didn¡¯t mean he was going to back down. These guys were being assholes, and Rowan wasn¡¯t having any of it. ¡°Really?¡± Misk frowned. ¡°I could have sworn that my friend here explained what was going on. Kid owes us gold,¡± he patted the case, ¡°and this is him paying us back.¡± ¡°Strange how a person on the cusp of Silver needs gold from a youth barely a step into his Path,¡± Nemir said, his anger barely constrained. ¡°Does your leader pay you so little?¡± Misk didn¡¯t seem bothered by the dig, shrugging in response. ¡°What can I say, we have a lot of mouths to feed.¡± Rowan sighed. ¡°How much is his debt?¡± ¡°Oh, feeling generous?¡± The boy¡¯s expression shifted from fearful to hopeful, his eyes glued to the case. ¡°I¡¯m a bit flushed at the moment, so yes. I just might,¡± Rowan replied, Misk¡¯s smirk finally fading, a sharp glint in his eye. ¡°I know you are,¡± he said. ¡°But that¡¯s for the boss to deal with,¡± his eyes moved over the group. ¡°And he will.¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t that ominous,¡± Annie snorted. ¡°If he wants, he can sure try. But I don¡¯t think it¡¯ll end well for him.¡± Misk raised his hand placatingly, a casual smile back on his face. ¡°Whoa, easy there.¡± He chuckled. ¡°No need to get all fired up,¡± he looked at Rowan appraisingly. ¡°Fifty gold.¡± The boy¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°That¡¯s not¡ª¡± he started to protest, but one of the thugs clasped his shoulder, quieting him down. ¡°I think I remember you saying that you paid for his strings,¡± Rowan said. ¡°Those aren¡¯t worth fifty gold.¡± Misk nodded. ¡°You¡¯re right, they aren¡¯t. But I already reclaimed my debt,¡± he said, showing off the case. ¡°And I think what you¡¯re really asking me is how much for this beautiful lyre.¡± He opened the case, showing off the finely crafted instrument. The boy raised a hand as he tilted the case forward, but Misk quickly scooped it up, closing it and setting it back under his arm, a sly grin on his face. Rowan nodded. ¡°You¡¯re right.¡± He reached back and pulled out his coin pouch¡ªwell, one of them.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. He¡¯d stashed more than a few around the house, courtesy of the Vault. It was filled to the brim with glittering coins. From a single royal worth one gold, to a dragon worth twenty-five. More than five-hundred total. A small fortune. Rowan pulled out two dragons and flicked them to him. Misk¡¯s eyes widened in response, a greedy glint in his eyes. As he caught the coins, Rowan used the moment of distraction to lunge forward and pry the case from his grasp. Misk looked down at his empty arm in surprise, not expecting a mage to be able to move that fast. But it wasn¡¯t something Rowan would be able to pull off again. The man was almost a Silver-rank, and judging by his build, he wasn¡¯t focused on Strength. He went to say something, but Rowan raised a hand, cutting him off. ¡°You said fifty gold. And since you already have them,¡± he glanced at the man¡¯s hand, the two gleaming coins in his palm. ¡°I¡¯m going to keep this.¡± Rowan tucked the case firmly under his arm, a small smile tugging at his lips. ¡°Anything else you wanted to talk about?¡± Misk¡¯s expression slipped once more, looking down at the coins and back up at him, his eyes lingering on his hip. ¡°No,¡± he finally said. ¡°Not for now.¡± He tucked the two dragons into his belt. ¡°Come on boys, let''s go.¡± The thug let go of the boy''s shoulder, and the four of them started walking away. Rowan watched them go, his arms crossed and a satisfied smile on his face. Annie flicked his ear. ¡°Are you an idiot?¡± He yelped, glancing at the annoyed-looking redhead with a small grin. ¡°What are you talking about? That went perfectly,¡± he showed off the case. ¡°Fifty gold for this is a steal.¡± He could see the boy hesitate, unsure of what to do. It had seemed like Rowan was helping him, but for all he knew, it could have just been to get the lyre. ¡°And why exactly was flashing all that,¡± she gestured at his pouch, ¡°necessary?¡± Rowan shrugged. ¡°To piss them off.¡± Annie groaned, rubbing the bridge of her nose. ¡°Idiot.¡± He laughed, patting her on the back. ¡°It¡¯ll work out, trust me. I just hope you aren¡¯t too drunk.¡± Annie looked at him, a curious expression on her face. ¡°You¡¯re playing at something,¡± she said. ¡°Care to share it with the rest of us?¡± Rowan nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll fill you in at the table. No point in repeating myself.¡± ¡°If your plan requires a clear head, I hope you accounted for Sil and Omi,¡± Nemir said, pointing at the table. Sil was yammering at Zoe who took it all with a slightly confused frown, a mug hanging precariously by her side. Omi wasn¡¯t that much better, his feet were perched up on the corner of the table, admiring his boots and nursing a bottle of something brown. Rowan sighed. ¡°Maybe our new healer can help with that. But honestly, just you two might be enough.¡± Nemir ran a hand through his hair, his lips quirking upwards. ¡°It has been a while since we did something fun.¡± Annie arched an eyebrow. ¡°What happened to not doing anything stupid?¡± Nemir shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t like them,¡± he looked at Rowan, nodding to the case. ¡°What about that?¡± ¡°Oh, right,¡± Rowan said, handing it to the kid. ¡°Here you go. Try not to lose it next time.¡± The boy eyed it with a hopeful hesitance, but his need for the instrument won out in the end. He grabbed the case, holding it firmly against his chest. ¡°I¡­ I mean¡­¡± he stammered, taking a deep breath. ¡°Thank you. Truly,¡± he said, standing up and clumsily bowing at the waste. ¡°But I don¡¯t know how I¡¯m going to repay you for this,¡± he muttered, clutching the case protectively. ¡°I don¡¯t have five gold to my name, let alone fifty.¡± Rowan waved him off. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. As far as I¡¯m concerned, it¡¯s an investment into the arts. And buying back that lyre is going to be useful for me, so consider us even,¡± he smiled. ¡°But I wouldn¡¯t mind hearing a song or two. If you¡¯re half as good as your lyre, I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll be a treat.¡± The boy nodded furiously. ¡°I¡¯m amazing. The best you¡¯ll ever hear.¡± Rowan laughed, the confident tone with which he¡¯d said it striking a chord with him. It definitely wasn¡¯t true, but he had no plans on bursting the kid¡¯s bubble. He looked at him more closely, his eyes drawn to the thin necklace around his neck. It was simple¡ªa woven band of finely worked silver¡ªbut there was something about it that caught Rowan¡¯s attention. It was like it wanted him to look away. A small compulsion to disregard it as irrelevant. When he noticed it, the feeling went away, and it was Rowan¡¯s turn to be surprised.
Level: 7
Body: Bronze II [2 Levels]
Core: Red [5 Levels]
The necklace wasn¡¯t all that powerful, but to break the enchantment you had to know what it was in the first place. It wasn¡¯t a common item, and in a city as small as Litwick, it was more than enough to hide away a mage¡¯s Core. At least up to a level. Probably best I keep that to myself, Rowan thought. If he¡¯s hiding it, he probably has a reason. It¡¯d be rude to just out him. ¡°I¡¯m Jamis, by the way,¡± he said, extending a hand. ¡°And these are Annie and Nemir.¡± The boy took his hand. ¡°I-I¡¯m Ulio,¡± he said, looking slightly overwhelmed, his momentary confidence gone. ¡°Thank you, again. I don¡¯t know what I would have done if I lost her,¡± he held the case against his side. ¡°Her?¡± Annie smiled. Ulio¡¯s cheeks reddened. ¡°I¡­ yes,¡± he quickly muttered, looking down at the ground. ¡°It¡¯s customary to name your instrument.¡± Rowan chuckled, clapping him on the back. ¡°A beauty like that deserves it.¡± An uneasy look passed across Ulio¡¯s face. ¡°I-It¡¯s not all that special.¡± Rowan arched an eyebrow, an amused smile on his face. ¡°How about we all go grab a drink?¡± he nodded towards their table. ¡°It¡¯s on me.¡± ¡°You really are feeling generous, aren¡¯t you?¡± Annie said as they started walking back. Rowan hefted his coin pouch, a sly smile tugging at his lips. ¡°I¡¯m just getting started.¡± . . . ¡°I am able, but unwilling,¡± Zoe said calmly, taking small sips of her cider. Her glass had been full for an awfully suspicious amount of time, but Rowan decided not to point it out. ¡°Is there any particular reason for that?¡± Rowan asked, trying not to sigh. Omi and Silvia were completely out of it. One lay passed out on the table and the other was muttering something while pointing at the ceiling. Ulio sat quietly next to them, one arm around the case and the other holding a mug of cider. The boy had calmed down over the last couple of minutes, but there was still a certain tension to his posture. ¡°Multiple,¡± Zoe nodded. ¡°Firstly, they made me promise not to. Silvia even attempted to make me invoke my goddess for a vow. But naturally, I refused.¡± Rowan suppressed a groan. ¡°Anything else?¡± ¡°I do not want to.¡± He went to say something but stopped himself. Then he went to say something again, and did the same thing. At least she¡¯s direct. ¡°Is there anything I could say to change your mind?¡± Rowan asked. It was better if everyone was capable of at least standing for what he planned. But if Zoe was unwilling, there wasn¡¯t much he could do. To her credit, she actually thought about it, tilting her head to the side. ¡°No. I don¡¯t think there is,¡± she said, nodding to herself. Looking satisfied with her answer. Annie crossed her arms. ¡°Care to elaborate?¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Zoe said, either ignoring or not noticing the annoyed look on the redhead¡¯s face. ¡°It was their choice to inflict this ailment on themselves. And while I haven¡¯t vowed to not remove it, I gave my word. Healing them now would be wrong.¡± Annie mulled over her answer for a moment before letting out a quiet, ¡°Huh.¡± She nodded. ¡°Alright. That''s fair,¡± she glanced at Rowan. ¡°Are the three of us going to be enough for whatever half-brained scheme you¡¯re cooking up? Because right now, you¡¯re not really in a position to contribute.¡± ¡°It might be a bit tight,¡± he conceded. ¡°But they¡¯re going to try something either way. Better if we beat them to it.¡± The greedy look on Misk¡¯s face had been hard to miss, and the fifty gold he so casually threw to him only made it worse. In his head, that gold had come from Rowan¡¯s part in taking care of the goblins and selling the Core. Gold, that for some strange reason, they thought belonged to them. ¡°I agree,¡± Nemir nodded. ¡°Now what did you have in mind?¡± Rowan placed his pouch on the table, the coins almost spilling out. ¡°I¡¯m going to make them angry. And I¡¯m going to make them do something stupid,¡± he answered, climbing onto the table. ¡°Oi!¡± Rowan shouted, the adventurers in the Guild Hall began turning toward him. ¡°The Crimson Grove has reasons to celebrate, and we feel like sharing! Only fair, isn¡¯t that right?¡± That raised a few mugs, some of them whooping in encouragement. ¡°Drinks are on us!¡± That raised the rest of them, a loud cheer going out. A room full of adventurers was capable of drinking more than one would think, their high Vitality suited to the task. It would be expensive, but then again, that was kind of the point. Misk and his group sat in a corner booth. Three of them looked eager at the offer of free booze, but the lithe man had a scowl on his face. Rowan picked up his mug and raised it towards him. Now, let¡¯s see just how much I can spend in one night. Chapter 26 - The Guild Hall III The adventurers in the Hall didn¡¯t need to be told twice. They crowded the bar, draining Rowan¡¯s coin pouch with wild abandon. Food and drink were brought out in droves, turning a normal night out into a surprise feast. Rowan even took a hundred gold and offered it up as a reward to an impromptu tournament. A clerk quickly took charge, creating a fighting bracket and letting them go at it. All the while, Misk and his group were watching it unfold. Observing as Rowan spent more gold than a dozen Iron-rank quests would earn them. He was sitting in a booth with Ulio, having a surprisingly pleasant conversation with the boy. Once he realized Rowan wasn¡¯t all that bothered by the fifty gold he spent getting his lyre back, he lost some of his shyness, replaced by an eager confidence as he talked about his craft. Nemir had somehow managed to herd Omi and Silvia back to their rooms, letting them sleep off their drunken stupor. Surprisingly, Zoe had decided to stay, listening to their conversation with an interested expression on her face. ¡°You know, you¡¯ve done a whole lot of bragging tonight. But not all that much playing,¡± Rowan said, a smile tugging at his lips. ¡°How about we change that?¡± He stood up, gesturing for Ulio to do the same. ¡°Come on wonderboy, there¡¯s someone I¡¯d like for you to meet.¡± To his credit, the boy hesitated for barely a heartbeat. He grabbed his case and started to follow him. ¡°Where are we going?¡± he asked as they moved through the crowd. Adventurers patted Rowan on the back as he passed, congratulating him on his advancement and thanking him for the free drinks. He¡¯d made sure to emphasize it was the Crimson Grove paying the tab, not just him. Effectively buying their favor, but Rowan wasn¡¯t too hung up on that. He might not have interacted with a large majority of them, but after tonight, they¡¯d at least have a positive impression of him, and more importantly, his team. ¡°Where do you think?¡± Rowan called back. ¡°The stage.¡± The Clearwater Troupe had become a staple in the Hall over the last couple of months. They played almost every night, and he''d become somewhat close to them over that time. Emros plucked away at his lute with an ease that showcased his years of experience. His brown hair was slicked back, sweat dripping from his brow like he¡¯d just fought a battle. Zahir, his father, stood beside him, his wrinkled hands moving nimbly across the pips of his flute. The last member of their troupe was Emros¡¯s daughter, Katrin, a beautiful, raven-haired girl with a voice that put the player¡¯s skills to shame. She caught his eye as he got closer and shot him a wink, a mischievous glint in her eyes. They stood at the foot of the stage for another few minutes, listening as the troupe played. Ulio seemed transfixed, his eyes following Emros¡¯s fingers as they moved across the strings of his lute, moving to Katrin a moment later. ¡°She has a beautiful voice,¡± he said softly, a touch of awe in his voice. ¡°They¡¯re a skilled group.¡± ¡°They are,¡± Rowan nodded, clasping the boy¡¯s shoulder. He grinned. ¡°Think you can keep up?¡± He didn¡¯t reply, but the determined expression on his face was answer enough. As the song ended, Katrin said something to her father and plopped down on the edge of the stage in front of them, a radiant smile on her face. ¡°Our favorite patron returns once more!¡± she exclaimed. ¡°Have you come to shower us with praise? Pour honeyed words into our ears?¡± Rowan chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°Maybe later,¡± he gestured at Ulio. ¡°I¡¯d like to introduce you to someone.¡± Ulio looked away, a blush coloring his cheeks. ¡°I¡­ It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, miss,¡± he took a deep, calming breath and performed a perfectly executed bow. ¡°You have a voice worthy of Syllana¡¯s halls, and a passion to make Ignar envious.¡± Rowan¡¯s eyes widened in surprise, barely managing to suppress a laugh. Well, that came out of nowhere. Katrin fluttered her eyelashes at him, her own smile growing even wider. ¡°My, what a charmer you¡¯ve brought before me. Thank you, young bard. Your words have made my soul flutter.¡± Ulio¡¯s cheeks got even redder. ¡°I-I¡­ No problem. You... I mean¡­¡± he stammered out, quickly glancing away. His unexpected confidence fading away once more. Emros made his way towards them, the smile he wore almost identical to the one on his daughter''s face. ¡°Jamis, my friend!¡± He spread his arms. ¡°Who have you brought before us tonight?¡± He glanced at the case in Ulio¡¯s hands, a twinkle entering his eyes. ¡°Oh, a fellow performer!¡± he smiled. ¡°Let us inscribe this meeting, my young friend. May we remember it through many seasons!¡± ¡°Emros, this is Ulio.¡± Rowan chuckled, amused by the man¡¯s theatrics. The two shook hands, Ulio looking relieved that he had something other to focus on besides the beautiful woman in front of him. Zahir, the third member of the troupe gave a small wave, moving to sit at a nearby table and lighting up his pipe. ¡°The kid says he¡¯s the best lyre player I¡¯ll ever hear,¡± Rowan said. ¡°And I¡¯d very much like to put that to the test.¡± Ulio¡¯s eyes shot up, looking at him with a nervous but hopeful expression. Emros put on an exaggerated frown, rubbing his goatee. ¡°A heavy claim,¡± he muttered. ¡°One I¡¯ve heard many times before. Though rarely is it more than a boast.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not a boast,¡± Ulio stated firmly. ¡°I¡¯ve talent enough to play for nobles without fear of shaming myself. Give me a chance to show you, and you¡¯ll never doubt my word again.¡± If Emros was surprised by the confidence, he didn¡¯t show it. ¡°Yes, your words ring with conviction,¡± he nodded slowly. ¡°Yet without a showing, they are like a warm wind upon your brow. Pleasant enough, yet without much weight.¡± As if coming to a decision, Emros put an arm around the boy''s shoulders and started leading him to a table. ¡°Come! Let us discuss how we may best incorporate you into our performance.¡± Surprised by the sudden acceptance, Ulio glanced back at Rowan, a slightly nervous, but grateful smile on his face. He mouthed a quick ¡®Thank you¡¯ before turning away. Shaking his head in amusement, Rowan turned towards Katrin. ¡°Is your father always like this?¡± She shrugged, twirling a lock of her hair. ¡°He quiets down when asleep. Though sometimes even that cannot still his tongue.¡± ¡°Comes with the profession, I suppose.¡± Katrin smiled. ¡°That it does.¡±If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. With a deft hand, she swiped a drink from a waiter¡¯s tray, taking a slow sip. ¡°Tell me Jamis, why help the boy? Is he a friend? Family? Friend of the family?¡± Rowan shook his head, more amused than anything at her constant probing. ¡°No, I just met him,¡± he arched an eyebrow. ¡°You do know that you don¡¯t have to say my name like that, right?¡± ¡°Like what?¡± she asked with all the innocence of a rowdy tomcat. ¡°Like you¡¯re announcing I¡¯m a wanted criminal and you¡¯re the one clever enough to catch me.¡± Katrin rolled her eyes. ¡°Were it truly your name, I would not,¡± she shrugged. ¡°But as it isn¡¯t, I reserve the right to point out that I see through your lackluster deceptions,¡± she said with a playful smile. Rowan chuckled, ¡°I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about.¡± She bumped his shoulder, her smile growing more relaxed. ¡°Alright, let us keep the skeletons in their closet for a while longer.¡± ¡°Good. Because that¡¯s exactly where I like them.¡± She snorted, somehow managing to make it sound graceful. ¡°What can you tell me of him?¡± she asked, glancing at the table where Emros and Zahir chatted with the boy. ¡°Is he hunted? Pursued by forces dark and wicked?¡± It was Rowan¡¯s turn to roll his eyes. ¡°Nothing quite so interesting. The boy got into debt to restring his lyre, and couldn''t pay it back.¡± Katrin sighed. ¡°Disappointing.¡± ¡°What? Not the epic tale you were hoping for?¡± Rowan laughed. ¡°No, definitely not,¡± she muttered, thoughtfully tapping her chin. ¡°Though perhaps¡­ A dashing, mysterious mage, saving an artist down on his luck. Vanquishing the scoundrels that threaten to take away his treasured lyre,¡± she pointed a finger to the ceiling. ¡°Given to him by his father! On his deathbed no less!¡± She nodded to herself. ¡°There may be a story here yet.¡± Rowan shook his head. ¡°Alright, no need to overdo it. I paid off some thugs to leave the kid alone, there wasn¡¯t any ¡®vanquishing¡¯ involved.¡± ¡°Yes, I saw, even if I was too far away to hear. The men accosting him didn¡¯t seem the merry sort.¡± After a moment, she shrugged, that confident smile of hers returning to her face. ¡°But I guess it depends on your perspective,¡± she nodded towards the boy. ¡°If you asked him, I think he might disagree with you on that.¡± Rowan sighed. ¡°Just a bunch of two-bit thugs. Nothing to be worried about.¡± ¡°You may be right, though I did not see any other come to his aid.¡± ¡°My ego is big enough as is, no need to stroke it,¡± he said playfully. Katrin let out a soft, melodic laugh, and Rowan felt his stomach flutter. ¡°So!¡± she clapped. ¡°What is it that you wish for us to do with the boy? Have you brought him to us as a fourth to our trio?¡± Rowan shrugged. ¡°Nothing quite so thought out. I don¡¯t think he has anyone in the city. And if he¡¯s as good as he says, he shouldn¡¯t have a problem settling in. I was just hoping to give him a leg up.¡± Katrin nodded. ¡°I do not think my father or grandfather would have a problem with it. Provided his words were not mere boasts. Having someone capable on a lyre would expand our repertoire by much.¡± ¡°Thank you. I couldn¡¯t ask for more.¡± He rummaged through his coin purse and pulled out four golden dragons. ¡°Here, for his room and board.¡± His pouch was already lighter by half, but he¡¯d set out to spend as much as he could. And out of all his expenses, this one made him feel the best. Katrin frowned, hesitantly taking the coins. ¡°And where is he to room? In the king''s palace?¡± Rowan shrugged. ¡°Then consider it payment for the beautiful songs, and the even better view.¡± Katrin groaned, and Rowan couldn¡¯t help but laugh. ¡°That was absolutely horrendous.¡± That only made him laugh harder. ¡°Yeah, it kind of was, wasn¡¯t it?¡± Shaking her head, Katrin put the coins away. ¡°You should not keep such wealth on you,¡± she said after a moment. ¡°It invites trouble.¡± ¡°Trouble seems to find me either way,¡± Rowan replied. ¡°And just between you and me,¡± he glanced at his table, ¡°and a few others, I might just be looking for it too.¡± Nodding, Katrin stood up and smoothed out her dress, giving him a warm smile. ¡°Well, the troupe once again thanks you for your generous contribution,¡± she bowed at the waist. ¡°But be warned, if you continue like this, we just might name you our patron.¡± Rowan chuckled. ¡°Not the worst problem to have.¡± He straightened up. ¡°Anyways, I¡¯ll leave you to it. I¡¯ve already stolen enough of your time tonight.¡± ¡°Stolen?¡± Katrin¡¯s lips quirked into a sly smile. ¡°I think borrowed would be more apt,¡± she winked, hopping down from the stage and making her way to the troupe''s table. Rowan watched her go, shaking his head in amusement. He turned and wove his way back through the crowd. When he reached their table, Nemir and Annie were mid-conversation. Zoe sat quietly beside them, radiating an air of calm interest. ¡°Enjoying yourselves?¡± Rowan asked, slipping into an empty seat. Annie smirked. ¡°Seems to me like you¡¯re enjoying yourself enough for all four of us.¡± ¡°As a matter of fact, I am.¡± He grinned. ¡°It¡¯s been a while since I¡¯ve had this much fun.¡± ¡°Good,¡± she said, nodding towards the booth where four members of the Steel Fist sat. ¡°Because our friends don¡¯t seem all that happy.¡± Misk was tearing into the group, the noise in the Hall drowning out his angry tirade. He kept looking towards Rowan, a perpetual scowl on his face. ¡°That was kind of the point,¡± he shrugged. ¡°But the real show¡¯s about to start.¡± ¡°Think the kid¡¯s got what it takes?¡± Annie asked, her finger tracing the rim of her mug. ¡°Guess we¡¯ll find out,¡± Rowan answered. ¡°He sure seemed to think so.¡± ¡°Confidence without skill can be a dangerous thing,¡± Zoe said. ¡°But perhaps his enthusiasm will surprise us.¡± I think it just might, Rowan thought, a smile tugging at his lips. If he was right about the kid, he had a feeling he¡¯d surprise the whole Hall. It¡¯s been a while since I heard a real bard play. Rowan had assumed that Ulio was a mage who liked music. But the more they talked, the more apparent it became that it was the other way around. Mana was potential, and there were as many ways to use it as there were people in the kingdom. The room began to quiet down as Emros climbed back on stage. He raised his hands and the lively chatter gradually faded, replaced by an air of anticipation. ¡°My friends!¡± Emros called out, his voice booming across the Hall, rich and deep. ¡°Tonight, we have a special treat for you. A young talent has graced us with his presence, stepping forth to share his gift!¡± A polite cheer went up as Ulio stepped onto the stage, clutching his case. His expression was a mix of nerves and determination, but his posture straightened as Zahir leaned down to whisper something in his ear. ¡°He¡¯s nervous,¡± Nemir observed, arms crossed as he watched. Rowan leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. ¡°Nerves are good. They keep you sharp.¡± ¡°Or they make you screw up,¡± Annie added. ¡°And now,¡± Katrin¡¯s voice cut through the lingering murmurs with practiced ease, ¡°Let us take you on a journey. A story told not with words, but melody!¡± Rowan leaned back in his chair, eager to find out just how good the boy actually was. . . . For the amount of food and drink flowing through the Hall, Misk was having a particularly bad night. He¡¯s mocking me, he thought, gritting his teeth as he watched the black-haired mage laughing with his team. ¡°Hey, how come that healer is with them?¡± Kiki asked, his hand moving to grab another ale before Misk slapped it away. ¡°Stop with the fucking drinking,¡± he snapped, ignoring the moron¡¯s question. ¡°I need you sober tonight.¡± Killian had asked him to keep an eye on the Crimson Grove, and if he found an opportunity, to squeeze them for what they owed. It had seemed like a waste of time once the boss told him they had a mage. Misk was confident in his abilities. He was on the cusp of advancing to Silver, his Aura getting closer to manifesting with each passing day. But even with all that, he wasn¡¯t fool enough to think he¡¯d win if it came down to a fight. As his father liked to say, pissing off people who can burn your skin off from two mountains over isn¡¯t a recipe for a long life. And if Misk had his way, he¡¯d live forever. He took in the festive atmosphere of the Hall, adding it all up in his head. Almost five hundred gold. That¡¯s how much he spent, Misk thought to himself, his fingers twitching by his side. Fifty for the lyre, a hundred to the troupe, another hundred for the tournament, and the rest on food and drink. He thought back to how he¡¯d snatched the lyre out of his hands, and Misk felt his anger rising. It was embarrassing to be taken by surprise by someone so much slower than him. He¡¯d always taken pride in his speed, and for a mage to manage something like that wounded his pride. That¡¯d never would have happened if he didn¡¯t throw a small fortune in my face, he scowled. It wasn¡¯t every day one saw a golden dragon, and having two flicked your way like they were made of bronze had a way of clouding your judgment. He had to hand it to the boy. With this one act, he¡¯d bought more goodwill with the adventurers of Litwick than the Steel Fist had in the entire time they¡¯d been here. Being one of the biggest teams in the city came with perks, but being liked certainly wasn¡¯t one of them. Not that Misk cared all that much about that. Being liked was overrated. It was respect he wanted. Something he found in the Steel Fist. Killian was one of only a few dozen Silver-ranks in Litwick, and with four people on the cusp of advancing¡ªMisk being one of them¡ªit made them a group few could look down on. But as that infuriating mage once again raised a mug in his direction, a condescending grin on his face, Misk came to a decision. The boss said to look for an opportunity, and from where I¡¯m sitting, this sure as hells looks like one. With a smile that didn¡¯t quite reach his eyes, he raised his own mug in response. He¡¯s the only one not staying at the Hall. The archer and the rogue are already out of it, and with how much they¡¯ve been drinking, the girl and the big fucker aren¡¯t going to last long either. The healer was another problem he didn¡¯t want to deal with. But thankfully for him, the temple wasn¡¯t anywhere close to where Jamis lived. So if things went his way, the mage would walk home alone. Drunk. In the dark. He advanced, and now he thinks he¡¯s the king of the fucking world, Misk snorted. Fighting a caster wasn¡¯t something he wanted to do. But right now, Misk had a feeling Jamis would have trouble lighting a candle, let alone anything close to human-sized. He¡¯s Bronze I, so he doesn''t have any skills. Misk¡¯s hands clenched around his mug in excitement, an ominous smile tugging at his lips. ¡°Boss, you¡¯re smiling funny again,¡± Jonan said. Misk glared at the swordsman. ¡°Shut up and drink your milk.¡± His eyes returned to the mage, a plan forming in his head. He thinks he¡¯s so clever, Misk scoffed. Spending all the gold he has on him like it¡¯s going to change anything. But Misk knew something the others didn¡¯t. Something that Killian only shared with his captains. Their leader was a perceptive fellow, and during their encounter in the cavern, he hadn¡¯t felt a Core anywhere near them, so he¡¯d assumed that they were telling the truth. That the shaman had drained it during their battle. But when news of the Crimson Grove selling one reached his ears, there was only one conclusion that made sense. Misk¡¯s eyes focused on the mage''s hand as he raised it, calling for another round. Or more accurately, the unassuming ring adorning his finger. There was only one reason a person would spend such a large amount of gold without so much as batting an eye. And that was if he had more of it stored away. Misk stood up. ¡°Come on, we¡¯re leaving.¡± He didn¡¯t wait to see if the idiots followed, already moving through the crowd and towards the doors of the Guild Hall. There was only one thing on his mind as the cool night air hit him. Misk grinned. This time tomorrow, I¡¯m going to be a very rich man. Chapter 27 - A Friendly Chat Ulio hesitated at the edge of the stage, his hands trembling as he fumbled with the clasps of his case. At that moment, he looked entirely his age¡ªa nervous and scared boy in an unfamiliar environment. He took out his instrument and set the case aside, taking a deep breath. With his lyre in hand, Ulio¡¯s posture straightened, his fingers lightly dancing over the strings. They were the only part of the lyre that didn¡¯t look meticulously crafted. Though even there Rowan could see signs of what used to be. Three of them shimmered like strung gold as the dim light of the tavern hit them, while Ulio slowly plucked away, his confidence growing. It was a beautifully crafted piece, made of onyx black wood with faint lines of red running along its side. Squinting, Rowan noticed that they weren¡¯t only there as decorations, but were actually enchantments engraved into it. He really should have looked at it before saying fifty, Rowan thought, smiling to himself as Misk and his group exited the Hall. They seem suitably pissed off. Good. Rowan focused back on Ulio as he started playing. The shy boy disappeared entirely, his hesitancy replaced by a focus only born of confidence in his craft. The tavern goers weren¡¯t paying him much attention, but it didn¡¯t seem that he minded all that much. Ulio became totally absorbed in those basic movements, closing his eyes as a small smile spread across his face. Rowan could feel his pulse quicken, the rising excitement impossible to ignore. While the troupe were excellent performers, their skills honed over many long years, they weren¡¯t true Bards. It wasn¡¯t a path often walked. It required one to be born with the ability to perform magic, not just gain it by advancing their stats. And then, you had to discard it for something most deemed lesser. Exchange the potential to move mountains with the ability to make music sound better. But Rowan knew that being a bard entailed so much more than just that. It was a Path to power, just like any other. And the ability to affect another¡¯s emotions was anything but weak. Watching Ulio, Rowan couldn¡¯t help but feel a pang of nostalgia. The way the soft notes seemed to vibrate the very air around him reminded Rowan of his family¡¯s halls, where the songs of Bards once filled the air with magic. The melody he wove wasn¡¯t all that impressive in its complexity, but one by one, the tavern goers slowly turned towards the stage. Conversations hushed, chairs scraping as people shifted their focus. Even the bartenders paused, mugs halfway filled. The small compulsion wasn¡¯t something most would notice, and even if they did, letting it take hold was worth it. Katrin and the troupe stepped back, letting Ulio take center stage. The first true note rang out, and while the change wasn¡¯t immediate, Rowan felt mana coming from the bard''s fingers. It wasn¡¯t even enough to cast a Whisper-level spell, but then again, he wasn¡¯t a mage. The melody swirled through the tavern, a gentle pull, like a wave sweeping over them. Mugs hovered mid-air¡ªforgotten¡ªas all eyes turned towards the stage. ¡°Remarkable,¡± Zoe muttered softly, her eyes taking in the room with a curious expression. Rowan smiled. ¡°You¡¯re in for a treat.¡± She glanced at him, her brows furrowed. It looked like she was going to ask something but stopped herself. Instead just nodding and looking back at the stage. A rich, resonant note swept through the tavern, blending with the low murmur of the crowd. Gradually, he picked up speed, a strange build-up in the air. Ulio¡¯s voice soon joined the melody he was painting. A soft, slow song one wouldn¡¯t expect to hear in the Hall, but no one seemed to mind. The warm glow of the lanterns illuminating the walls seemed to flicker, the logs in the hearth popping and crackling, as if the room itself was swaying to the music. As Ulio played, a soft shimmer seemed to ripple through the air right at the edge of Rowan¡¯s vision, like heat rising off cobblestones. It kept his attention centered, and he knew it was doing the same to the other people in this room. It felt warmer, more intimate, the notes wrapping everyone in a gentle embrace. Faces softened, eyes closed, and for a moment, it felt like the entire tavern was breathing in time with the melody. Rowan allowed the effect to take hold, letting it guide his mood. It would have only taken a slight effort of will to push it away, but he had no intention of doing that. Ulio was just getting started on his Path, and while he wasn¡¯t as good as the bards Rowan remembered from his youth, it didn¡¯t seem fair to compare the two. There were no grand illusions to accompany his performance, but there was something to be said about simplicity. Rowan closed his eyes, enjoying the music, the company, and even the ache in his chest. It represented progress, and while he wouldn¡¯t say it out loud, this impromptu celebration was exactly what he needed. Ever so slowly, his injury receded. Not fully, and not even by a lot, but it was enough for Rowan to notice it.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. He had no way of knowing to what degree it had healed, but he had a feeling that a Whisper-level spell wouldn¡¯t lay him out now. As the song drew to a close, the atmosphere in the Hall slowly returned to normal. Ulio swayed slightly as his eyes blinked open, sweat dripping from his brow, obviously drained by his performance. He nervously looked around, his confidence draining at the silence. Then, suddenly, a cheer went out. The rest of the Hall joined in, clapping loudly, mugs raised towards the young bard. A wide, joyful smile appeared on Ulio¡¯s face, and after a moment, he gave the boisterous crowd a deep bow. Emros stepped up, clapping the boy on the back and whispering something in his ear, gesturing at the table they sat earlier. Ulio shook his head, muttering something back with a determined expression. Emros laughed, giving the boy a nod before launching into another song. His exhaustion forgotten, Ulio followed along as Katrin and Zahir joined in. There was no magic in it this time, his reserves most likely drained by what he¡¯d done. Yet Rowan didn¡¯t care, and neither did the rest. The night progressed smoothly after that. With drinking, and dancing, and more than a bit of fighting. Ulio had become a celebrity in his own right, and by the time Rowan was getting ready to leave, he was already snoring on a table after accepting one too many drinks. Thankfully, Zahir was kind enough to help the boy to his room. The old musician nodded to Rowan as he passed. ¡°This one truly is a gem,¡± he said, an amused smile tugging on his lips as he looked at the passed-out bard. ¡°Though I fear he may still be a bit young for the toll of a performance like that.¡± Rowan chuckled. ¡°You might be right about that.¡± With the music gone, the Hall slowly emptied. Adventurers went about finding their way home, some going back into the city, while others moved upstairs to the rooms the Guild offered. Rowan looked at Nemir, Annie, and Zoe, all three of them eyeing him with differing expressions. ¡°Well,¡± he stood up, ¡°let¡¯s hope I didn¡¯t waste all that gold for nothing.¡± Annie snorted. ¡°For the record, I still think it¡¯s an idiotic idea.¡± Rowan nodded. ¡°Duly noted, and ignored.¡± She glared at him, and Rowan couldn¡¯t hold back a laugh. ¡°Just trust me, alright? It¡¯s better to nip things like this in the bud.¡± ¡°I agree,¡± Nemir said. ¡°And if it¡¯s them that start it, we have every justification to finish it.¡± Annie sighed. ¡°Just make sure not to kill any of them. With everything that¡¯s going on, I doubt the Guild is going to appreciate losing adventurers,¡± she looked at Nemir. ¡°No matter how ¡®justified¡¯ it was.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± he nodded. ¡°I wasn¡¯t planning on it.¡± Satisfied with that answer, Annie looked back at Rowan. ¡°What happens when Killian comes back?¡± she asked. ¡°There¡¯s a whole lot more of them than there are of us. And I don¡¯t like our chances against all thirty of them.¡± ¡°I asked around. His quest should keep him out of the city for at least a week or two,¡± Rowan said. ¡°And by the time he comes back, I¡¯ll hopefully be all healed up. This is just so the members of his team still in Litwick think twice before starting something again.¡± ¡°Really?¡± Annie arched an eyebrow. ¡°Because judging by the grin on your face, you seem to have ulterior motives.¡± Rowan schooled his expression, but he couldn¡¯t keep the eager glint out of his eyes. ¡°Alright, you caught me,¡± he shrugged. ¡°But in my defense, who doesn''t enjoy putting assholes in their place?¡± ¡°Can¡¯t argue with that,¡± Annie smirked. ¡°And what is my role going to be in this escapade?¡± Zoe asked, tapping her fingers against each other. ¡°I must confess, I am quite excited,¡± she said with a small, almost shy smile. ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad at least someone thinks my idea is a good one.¡± Annie rolled her eyes. ¡°Anyway, your role is to help if things go sideways,¡± Rowan answered. ¡°To make sure all our limbs stay right where they are. Connected to our bodies.¡± The healer nodded firmly. ¡°I shall endeavor to do just that.¡± And with that, Rowan bid a temporary goodbye to his team and made his way out of the Guild Hall. The cool night air greeted him, a crisp breeze blowing against his face. The cobbled streets of Litwick were quieter now, with most of the city¡¯s residents retiring to their beds hours ago. Lanterns lined the walls, their flickering light casting long, shifting shadows across the uneven stone. Rowan adjusted his coat, slipping his hands into his pockets as he began walking at a leisurely pace. His boots echoed softly against the cobblestone, a steady rhythm that matched the beating of his heart. He resisted the urge to glance back over his shoulder. There was no need. He¡¯d felt their eyes on him the moment he left the Hall. They¡¯re not even subtle about it. The dull clink of armor and the faint shuffle of boots on stone echoed behind him, steady but cautious. Rowan kept his pace even, his expression relaxed as he moved further into the city. It was a delicate dance¡ªleading them where he wanted without tipping his hand too soon. The main paths of Litwick were safer, well-lit and patrolled by the occasional guard. But Rowan didn¡¯t plan on sticking to them. His steps grew slower, more deliberate as he turned down a quieter side street. The houses were smaller here, their shutters drawn tight against the chill and the soft glow of lanterns replaced by the silvery light of the moon. The sounds following him grew faint for a moment, and Rowan knew they were hanging back, wary of being spotted. A bit late for that. A fork in the road came into view, one path leading back towards the bustling heart of the city and the other veering toward the edge of a small park. Rowan chose the darker, quieter route and kept walking. The park wasn¡¯t exactly large¡ªmore a cluster of trees and a few winding paths¡ªbut it was enough for what he had in mind. Tall oaks and willows loomed, their bare branches twisting like skeletal fingers against the night sky. The air here was colder, the scent of damp earth and fallen leaves prominent. Rowan let out a quiet breath, allowing his posture to loosen just enough to sell the image of someone unaware. He made his way down the dirt path, his steps muffled by the soft ground. The silence grew heavier, the faint sounds of the city fading into the distance. Rowan¡¯s senses sharpened, his ears straining for the telltale rustle of movement. There. The crunch of a boot on a stray twig, quickly muffled. Rowan¡¯s lips twitched into a faint smile. He kept walking, his pace unhurried. The path curved ahead, leading to a small clearing where a single, towering willow stood at its center. Its gnarled trunk was thick and wide, its roots twisting into the ground like the claws of a beast. Rowan slowed as he approached it, letting his hand brush against the rough bark. The faint rustle of leaves in the wind masked the sound of his pursuers closing in, and he took a step back, turning to face the path he¡¯d come from. For a moment, the park was still, the shadows deep and the silence heavy. And then, they stepped out. Misk emerged first, his wiry frame silhouetted against the faint moonlight. His expression was smug, a thin smile curling at the corners of his lips as he approached. Behind him, six others fanned out, their movements deliberate. Brought friends, did he? Thankfully, the three additional people who joined him were all in low Iron. And against Annie or Nemir, Rowan doubted they¡¯d last more than a few exchanges. ¡°Well, well,¡± Misk drawled, his voice cutting through the quiet. ¡°I must say, that was quite the party you threw back there.¡± Rowan crossed his arms, leaning back against the tree with an air of casual indifference. ¡°You know,¡± he said, his tone light, ¡°if you¡¯re going to follow someone, you really should be less obvious with it.¡± Misk¡¯s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, not expecting Rowan to be so relaxed about an apparent ambush. But it returned a moment later, sharper this time. ¡°And here I thought mages were supposed to be all book-smart and naive,¡± he said, spreading his arms. ¡°Guess I underestimated you.¡± ¡°You wouldn¡¯t be the first,¡± Rowan shrugged, his eyes flickering to the group. ¡°So, what¡¯s this? A friendly chat?¡± One of the thugs, a burly man with a scar running down his cheek, shifted uneasily. He glanced around, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but here. Misk ignored him, taking another step closer. ¡°How about we make this easy on the both of us and you just give me what I want,¡± he said, his voice low. ¡°You¡¯ve got a lot of nice things, Jamis. But it¡¯s that ring of yours that really caught my eye,¡± a greedy look flashed across his face. ¡°And I have a feeling that whatever¡¯s inside is enough to set me up for quite a while.¡± What? Rowan thought, confusion flashing across his face. How in all the hells does he know about the ring? Misk laughed. ¡°Just because we aren¡¯t mages doesn''t mean we aren¡¯t smart,¡± he glanced at the thugs behind him. ¡°Well, some of us at least.¡± Well, fuck, Rowan thought. I guess that''s out now. It was only a matter of time before it happened, and seeing as they already knew about his ring, there really wasn''t a point in being coy. ¡°You have no idea how right you are,¡± Rowan said, his gaze hardening. ¡°I have a dragon''s hoard in here,¡± he raised his hand, wiggling his fingers. ¡°More gold than you¡¯ll see in ten dozen lifetimes.¡± The tension in the clearing thickened, the air growing heavy with unspoken threat. The six men behind Misk shifted, their hands resting on the hilts of their weapons. Misk¡¯s smile vanished, replaced by a hard, calculating expression. ¡°You¡¯re awfully confident for someone who can¡¯t cast.¡± Rowan arched an eyebrow. ¡°And did you think to ask yourself why that was?¡± ¡°I did,¡± with a flick of his wrist, he signaled his men to move forward. ¡°And I came to a simple conclusion.¡± Misk unsheathed his sword. ¡°I think you¡¯re full of shit,¡± he smirked. ¡°Just like you were in that cavern.¡± And with that, he lunged. Chapter 28 - A Beating Rowan focused as Misk thrust his sword towards him. He might have been a mage, and only Bronze I on top of that, but his Dexterity was more than enough to dodge the half-hearted attack. He¡¯d aimed it at his shoulder, wanting to disable rather than kill. The sword dug into the willow as Rowan threw himself to the side, moving out of the way. ¡°I don¡¯t get it,¡± Rowan said, putting the tree between himself and his opponents. ¡°What¡¯s your plan here?¡± ¡°Simple,¡± Misk smirked. ¡°Take your ring and fuck off somewhere far away. And even if I¡¯m wrong about how much stuff is in there, just selling it is going to be enough for me to advance to Silver,¡± he glanced at Rowan¡¯s hand. ¡°But I don¡¯t think I am.¡± Rowan frowned. He¡¯s not doing this for Killian? It shouldn¡¯t have been surprising, yet for some reason, Rowan hadn¡¯t even thought of that. The man was a greedy opportunist, and abandoning the Steel Fist was the perfect move for him. The Vault wasn¡¯t so easily stolen, but Rowan wasn¡¯t sure it would come back right away either. His injury shook up the connection between the item and his soul, and recalling it didn¡¯t seem like the smart thing to do if he wanted it to heal. The six other thugs stood slightly back, taking cautious steps closer. They didn¡¯t seem thrilled at the prospect of fighting a mage, but after seeing him dodge away and not fight back, the hesitance slowly bled away. Focused on him, they didn¡¯t notice as a wall of muscle burst into the clearing, barreling into two of them and knocking them down. Misk¡¯s head swirled around at the noise, and Annie used that distraction to jump from a branch overhead, her spear aimed straight at the man¡¯s chin. To his credit, he noticed the attack a heartbeat later. Misk dodged back with surprising speed, his sword blurring to knock her spear away. A surprised look flashed across his face. ¡°How are you here?¡± he asked, his stance shifting as realization dawned. ¡°You planned this?¡± Annie brushed herself off, standing up from where she landed. ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that,¡± she said, getting into a stance. ¡°I¡¯m as surprised as you are that it actually worked.¡± ¡°Told you,¡± Rowan said, taking a step back. ¡°Yeah, yeah, stuff it,¡± she muttered, pointing the hilt of her spear forward and starting to circle him. Her movements were graceful, like a predator stalking prey. It was the look of someone utilizing their skills and stats perfectly in tandem, a level of mastery not often found in adventurers of Annie¡¯s level. From where Rowan was standing, she was only missing an Aura to look like a Silver-rank. Nemir punched out another thug, ducking under a swung club and sweeping the next one''s legs. He also wasn¡¯t far off, moving like an unstoppable avalanche. Every punch led into another movement, and the four other thugs quickly found themselves overwhelmed. It wasn¡¯t that they were weak. Most of them were at Iron III, which was a respectable level of strength. But they still looked like they were getting outnumbered by a single attacker. ¡°Besides, your plan was basically, ¡®Let Annie and Nemir take care of everything and hope the other guys are idiots¡¯,¡± she said, launching a probing strike at Misk. ¡°So it doesn''t count.¡± He angrily hit it out of the way, his smug look fading. ¡°What are you talking about?¡± ¡°If you ask me, that sounds like a great plan,¡± Rowan said, ignoring him. Annie¡¯s lips quirked upward. ¡°The first part¡¯s solid, I¡¯ll give you that. But you got lucky on the second.¡± she whirled into motion, throwing thrusts and swipes at a rapidly increasing pace. ¡°Couldn¡¯t have picked a more obvious ambush spot.¡± Misk managed to follow her assault, his expression hardening as he deflected the attacks. ¡°But you were drunk!¡± he shouted, grunting in effort. ¡°You were drinking for hours!¡± ¡°Cider can¡¯t really get you buzzed,¡± she replied, going for his legs. Misk scowled, realizing he¡¯d been played. He looked around, trying to figure out what to do. Nemir had taken out another of his opponents, leaving only three. The warrior grabbed a club mid swing, tearing it out of the attacker''s hand and back swinging it across his face. Blood and teeth flew, and another one dropped to the floor. Misk tried to disengage, using a skill to throw Annie¡¯s attack off course, disturbing her footing. He started to move, but she was quick to recover. Annie used the trip to swing her spear around, the end blurring towards the thug''s knee. He focused on Dexterity, and a busted leg would make utilizing it effectively much harder.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. He was forced to defend, his movement skill faltering as he tried to deflect. The bait set, Annie hooked her elbow and transferred the momentum the other way. Releasing the spear with her other hand to allow the swing. It cracked Misk across the jaw, his body ragdolling as he fell to the ground. Unconscious. ¡°Huh,¡± Annie muttered, taking a step back and kicking his sword away. ¡°Thought he¡¯d be tougher.¡± She poked him with the hilt of her spear. ¡°You should really work on that glass jaw, buddy.¡± Rowan snorted. ¡°I don¡¯t think he can hear you,¡± he said, stepping closer. ¡°You never know,¡± Annie shrugged. ¡°It just might stick.¡± Nemir quickly dealt with the last two. With one of them trying to bolt only to be swept to the ground and kneed in the face. He straightened out, glancing around at the six unconscious bodies on the floor. ¡°Well,¡± he said with the casual air of someone who¡¯d done this before, dusting off his hands, ¡°that was fun.¡± Zoe stepped out into the clearing, casually walking up to one of the thugs and placing a hand on his forehead. She repeated that for each one. ¡°This one is still awake,¡± she said, stepping back as the thug''s eye peeked open. He raised his hands, a panicked expression on his face. ¡°Wait! I¡ª¡± Nemir¡¯s boot descended on his face. It impacted with a dull thud, the thug''s arms falling limp and his eyes fluttering closed. Zoe knelt back down, nodding to herself as she confirmed it stuck this time. She went around the clearing, finishing off her task. Once she was done with Misk, she stood up and tucked her hands into her robe. ¡°I estimate they¡¯ll be out till sunrise,¡± she glanced down. ¡°This one may be a bit longer.¡± Annie grinned, balancing her spear across her shoulders. ¡°Understandable.¡± Rowan leaned back against the tree, a satisfied smile on his face. Nemir walked up to him, crossing his arms with a smile of his own. ¡°And what now?¡± he asked, looking around the clearing. ¡°We just leave them here?¡± Rowan nodded, pushing himself forward. ¡°Yup. Carrying them to an inn sounds exhausting, and I need to wake up early tomorrow.¡± Annie arched an eyebrow. ¡°And why exactly do you need to do that?¡± ¡°The Crimson Grove just got attacked by members of the Steel Fist,¡± he shrugged, a grin tugging at his lips. ¡°And I¡¯m sure the friends we made tonight are going to want to hear all about it.¡± Annie glanced at him with an appraising eye. ¡°When exactly did you come up with this scheme?¡± ¡°First off, it was a plan,¡± he clarified. ¡°Schemes are totally different.¡± She snorted a laugh. ¡°And secondly, right around when I nabbed the lyre.¡± It had been mostly bare bones, but the outline was there. Rowan had expected Killian to be in the Hall when they showed up, and when he didn¡¯t turn up, even after the confrontation, he¡¯d started asking questions. As it turned out, the Silver-rank had taken a quest to guard a caravan heading to Tumbleton. A city north of Litwick, half a week¡¯s ride away. By the time he returned, Rowan hoped his injury would be gone. But if it wasn¡¯t¡ªand overwhelming strength wasn¡¯t there as an option to deal with the problem of an angry Silver-rank¡ªhe needed something else. He settled on being liked. It was useful if a large portion of a city¡¯s fighting power had a favorable opinion of you, and there was no easier way to go about it than food and drink. He doubted Killian would try anything now, at least until they went back to the Wilds¡ªif even. But that wasn¡¯t going to happen until Rowan was back at full strength. Nemir nodded, a knowing look in his eye. ¡°I guess, now we wait,¡± he said, gesturing towards the city. ¡°Let¡¯s head back. I might not need it as much as before, but I still do appreciate my sleep.¡± They started walking out of the park, leaving behind seven unconscious adventurers. As they reached the streets, Annie nudged him with her shoulder. ¡°You can¡¯t cast for at least the next week, right?¡± she asked. ¡°I¡¯m not exactly sure, but I¡¯d say there about,¡± he squinted at her, feeling something brewing. ¡°Why?¡± Annie smirked, tapping her spear against the side of his boot. ¡°If you ask me, that sounds like the perfect time to work on Skin Toughening. To get yourself a skill so the next time we¡¯re in a situation like this you¡¯re not stuck hiding behind a tree.¡± Rowan suppressed a groan. ¡°I hate that you¡¯re right,¡± he muttered, running a hand through his hair. ¡°It really isn¡¯t all that hard,¡± Nemir added. ¡°You¡¯re at a higher level than most when they try it. And the added stats are going to help substantially.¡± Zoe raised her hand. ¡°I could assist,¡± she offered. Rowan glanced at the healer, surprised by the offer. ¡°You¡¯d do that?¡± he asked. ¡°Nothing better to do than watching me get wailed on and waiting to jump in with a heal?¡± ¡°I am fine with it,¡± she nodded. ¡°There are other things I can do in the meantime.¡± Annie clapped him on the shoulder. ¡°So it¡¯s decided,¡± she grinned. ¡°Tomorrow, we start working on getting you a skill.¡± Rowan sighed. ¡°You¡¯re way too happy about this,¡± he muttered. ¡°Besides, what makes you think you¡¯re going to be the one doing the hitting?¡± She arched an eyebrow, throwing a look in Nemir¡¯s direction. "I''m perfectly content watching him handle it." The burly swordsman smirked. ¡°It¡¯s your choice.¡± Rowan looked at Annie, then back at Nemir before finally pointing at Zoe. ¡°I want her.¡± ¡°I¡¯m afraid I must refuse,¡± she said without so much as missing a beat. ¡°I have no interest in ¡®whaling¡¯ on you.¡± He sighed. ¡°Traitor.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be such a baby,¡± Annie laughed. ¡°It¡¯s not as bad as you think. And by the time you¡¯re done, it¡¯ll be more than worth it.¡± Rowan knew she was right. But he wasn¡¯t going to say it out loud. He¡¯d been neglecting that particular aspect of his advancement in favor of literally anything else. His spells and Core had always taken precedence. But now, neither of those were options. And if Rowan wanted to continue growing stronger, there was only one avenue left for him to pursue. Advancing his body. ¡°Alright, you convinced me,¡± he looked at Zoe, a grateful smile on his face. ¡°And thank you, Zoe. I¡¯m sure having a healer is going to make the process a much easier pill to swallow.¡± ¡°It truly isn¡¯t a problem.¡± She turned to Annie. ¡°I would appreciate it if you didn¡¯t hold back. Healing bruises isn¡¯t a challenging task.¡± She grinned. ¡°I got you, princess. Don¡¯t you worry about a thing.¡± ¡°Ominous,¡± Rowan grumbled. ¡°And unnecessary.¡± As they finally reached the Guild Hall, Annie and Nemir bid them goodnight, with Annie managing to finagle a promise out of Rowan to be here first thing tomorrow morning. His plan to sour the Steel Fist¡¯s reputation wouldn¡¯t take all that much time. The adventurers he¡¯d spent a small fortune on tonight would be there for breakfast, and a few brief comments in the right ears should do the trick. Not making a big deal out of it works in our favor. We could probably get the Guild involved, but that¡¯s more trouble than it¡¯s worth, he thought, saying bye to Zoe and starting to walk home. I¡¯m not trying to get them thrown into prison. This way, it makes it seem like they¡¯re not strong enough to even be worth the effort. And by the time Killian comes back, there won¡¯t be a whole lot he can do about it. The Steel Fist already had a reputation. Rowan was only pulling it into the spotlight. By the time he got home, he felt exhaustion creeping in. It had been a long day. From gaining a second affinity, mastering his first Chant-level spell, fighting off the Wyrmlings and the subsequent injury that followed, with the events in the tavern only adding onto it. But as Rowan took off his clothes and slipped into bed, Kai still sleeping off the feast he¡¯d indulged in up on his perch, a content feeling washed over him. He closed his eyes and felt at his Core. Rowan threaded the tiniest bit of mana through his channels, guiding it towards his palm. They weren¡¯t the massive riverbanks he¡¯d grown used to¡ªthe injury leaving them clamped shut¡ªbut his healing had come along further than he expected it to in such a short time. The ache was still there¡ªin the background¡ªyet the agony he felt when he returned from the Plateau was nowhere to be found. The System called his soul ¡®Immortal¡¯, and it was living up to that description. A faint haze covered his hand, illuminating the dimly lit room. It wasn¡¯t strong enough to cook an egg over, but what it represented brought a smile to his face. Rowan cut off the flow of mana and burrowed into the blankets, letting sleep claim him. Chapter 29 - Bruises Rowan yelped as Annie whacked him across the back with a particularly large stick. ¡°Gods, spread it out a bit. Would you?¡± he muttered, sitting under the tree in his backyard in nothing but his pants. ¡°You know you don¡¯t have to hit the exact same spot every time, right?¡± ¡°And when did you become an expert on body cultivation?¡± she asked, hitting him again. ¡°Now stop whining. You¡¯re throwing off my aim.¡± ¡°Fight back!¡± Silvia called out, lounging on a chair she took from the living room. ¡°Make her work for it!¡± Rowan grunted, a sharp crack echoing out as another strike landed across his back. The day had started off well enough. He¡¯d actually had a good night''s sleep for once, his body too exhausted from yesterday¡¯s events for his mind to wander. They had breakfast in the Hall, with Rowan talking about what Misk and his group tried to do to anyone who would listen. And as it turned out, that was more people than he¡¯d expected. Crack. ¡°How long does this usually take?¡± Rowan muttered, suppressing the urge to rub his back. The last few hours had turned the sharp sting of Annie¡¯s swings into a steady throb, his body covered in angry purple bruises. ¡°Depends,¡± she said, taking more pleasure than Rowan thought was necessary in her task. ¡°Could be anywhere between a few days and a few weeks.¡± He gritted his teeth through the pain. I¡¯m really hoping it¡¯s the former. Because I really don¡¯t feel like spending weeks going through this. ¡°Do you require assistance?¡± Zoe called out, sitting next to Silvia and casually reading a book, not even looking up. Annie ran a finger over the welts, drawing a low hiss from Rowan. ¡°Still no blood. I¡¯d say you have at least another half hour before you need it.¡± Rowan glanced back at her. ¡°I¡¯m not a steak,¡± he muttered, standing up and wincing as a flash of pain shot through him. ¡°And I prefer that my blood stays where it is. On the inside.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t we all,¡± Annie shrugged, setting her whipping stick against the tree. ¡°But better it¡¯s me that bleeds you than Killian. At least you know I¡¯ll stop.¡± ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m not so sure about that.¡± She poked him in the back, getting a yelp in response. ¡°Stop complaining so much,¡± she smirked. ¡°If you¡¯re bitching this much about Skin Toughening, I have no idea how you¡¯re gonna get through Muscle Strengthening, let alone Bone Refinement.¡± Rowan shuddered. ¡°I¡¯ll cross that bridge when I get to it.¡± He walked over to Zoe. The healer extended her hand and placed it on his arm, her eyes closing as a soft glow radiated from her palm. ¡°Healing Touch,¡± she whispered. A soothing feeling washed over him. It started with the soreness in his muscles, washing away the lingering ache and slowly healing the bruises covering his body. The effect only lasted a few seconds, but once it was done, Rowan felt revitalized. Like he¡¯d spent the last few hours in a relaxing bath instead of being brutalized. ¡°You are quickly becoming my favourite person on this team,¡± he said, stretching out the kinks in his shoulders. Zoe glanced up from her book. ¡°Noted.¡± He shook his head, an amused smile on his face. Having a healer on hand was proving to be exceedingly useful, and while Zoe didn¡¯t seem to mind her role as a walking health potion, Rowan decided to do something nice for her once he could access the Vault again. There¡¯s bound to be a staff that boosts her healing somewhere in there. He¡¯d come to the decision that it was time to share some of his gear with the rest of the team. They already knew he had a storage ring, and they knew he had access to a large amount of gold. So showing off a bit more shouldn¡¯t raise too many questions. Rowan wanted them as strong as possible. He¡¯d grown close to them over the last couple of months. In a way that''s only possible with people you risked your life with. Rowan didn¡¯t want to live with the guilt if something happened to any of them, knowing that it may not have if he¡¯d equipped them in gear worthy of their prowess. Silvia¡¯s new bow was finely made, but it was still just an uncommon rarity item. The same with Omi¡¯s boots. The muffle enchantment on them was basic. It couldn¡¯t be used for a long time, and it took quite a while to recharge. Annie¡¯s spear and Nemir¡¯s sword were slightly better, but Rowan was sure the Vault had upgrades for them. That wasn¡¯t even mentioning the different armors and accessories. After Rowan geared them up, the Steel Fist shouldn¡¯t pose much of a problem. It was the least he could do. Even if Annie seemed to enjoy her current task, she certainly had better things to do. They¡¯ve been at it for hours, and would be for hours more, all for the benefit of advancing his body.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Nemir and Omi finished their spar. ¡°Ha!¡± the swordsman shouted as he nabbed a napkin from Omi¡¯s back pocket, holding it proudly. ¡°Guess I win.¡± A black line covered his forearm, which the rogue was quick to point out. ¡°That would have slowed you down. No way you could have grabbed it,¡± he said, setting the wooden dagger on the table. Nemir chuckled. ¡°It was your idea to give me two strikes per limb. And besides, my Vitality isn¡¯t low. I¡¯d be able to take a hit.¡± ¡°Well no need to point it out,¡± Omi muttered, pulling out a chair and sitting next to Silvia. ¡°Is he fighting back yet?¡± he asked, nodding towards Rowan. ¡°No,¡± she sighed. ¡°And hearing him yelp stopped being fun half an hour ago.¡± Rowan rolled his eyes. ¡°Well excuse me for not amusing you enough,¡± he slipped on a shirt. ¡°Do you want pain filled whimpers like Annie?¡± ¡°Actually, I was more going for agonized groans. Or any kind of wail,¡± she said, pouring herself a cup of some kind of juice. While Rowan might not have liked the act of advancing his body, he did enjoy the environment in which he was doing it. It was a far cry from sitting under a tree for hours on end, and after a week straight of doing just that, this change was exactly what Rowan needed. In more ways than one. Just half a day had passed since they started, with his soul steadily improving as the sun moved across the sky. And Rowan wasn¡¯t so sure that his trait was the only reason why. Ulio¡¯s performance had a definite impact on his healing, which just confirmed Rowan had no idea how his soul actually worked. He¡¯d never had to deal with something like this, and the books he read as a youth didn¡¯t delve too deep into the topic. What few mentions there were consisted mostly of references to soul soothing potions, for after a mage advanced. But alchemy had never been something Rowan took much interest in. Not that he thought he¡¯d need it. With the speed his soul was recovering, it might only take a few days for him to heal up. I¡¯d really like to get this done by then, he thought, watching as the others chatted amongst themselves. I have a whole new affinity, and I barely even touched it. But as he watched the team interact, Rowan realized he wouldn¡¯t mind more of this. It wasn¡¯t like he couldn¡¯t work on his magic next to them. The only reason Rowan hadn¡¯t done that so far was because he did that on the Plateau, but it wasn¡¯t like it was some secret process. For most mages, that mainly consisted of study, meditation, and a short period of casting. Mana was easy to spend. It was getting it back that was the problem. The vents had been Rowan¡¯s way of negating that bottleneck, yet he couldn¡¯t do that with Wind. He¡¯d certainly be able to lower it with his seemingly endless supply of mana potions, and his ability to meditate while under their effects. But it would be a far cry from perpetually casting. Rowan came to a decision, grabbing the team''s attention. ¡°How would you all feel about moving in?¡± he asked, taking in their reactions. ¡°You¡¯re all in the Hall, and I¡¯ve seen those rooms. They¡¯re not all that great.¡± ¡°This is too big for just me,¡± he gestured at the house. ¡°Last I counted, there were seven guest rooms. More than enough to fit all of us. And if I¡¯m being honest, I¡¯d feel better if we stuck together. At least until Killian and his group come back.¡± Rowan looked at Zoe. ¡°You¡¯re welcome too, but I understand if you refuse. You haven¡¯t really known us for all that long.¡± She nodded. ¡°I am staying at the temple, and the head priest has requested I remain there while in Litwick. However I do appreciate the offer.¡± He looked back at the team, not knowing what answer to expect. It made sense to him, and he hoped they saw it the same way too. Silvia broke the silence, an excited smile on her face. ¡°Gods, yes!¡± she clapped her hands. ¡°I was hoping you¡¯d ask us that!¡± She clammered to her feet, pointing a finger at each of them in turn. ¡°We¡¯re doing this. And I¡¯m using my authority bean to¡ª¡± ¡°You made those up,¡± Omi pointed out. She ignored him. ¡°¡ªto make it official.¡± The archer actually fished out a bean from her back pocket and chucked it away. ¡°There. All done.¡± Rowan stared at her for a moment before bursting out laughing. Annie shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips while Nemir chuckled. ¡°Who are we to argue with that?¡± she shrugged, sitting back in her chair and taking a plate from the table. ¡°Guess we have a base now.¡± Omi stood up. ¡°I have to use the bathroom.¡± He started making his way inside as Silvia¡¯s eyes widened. Using every ounce of Dexterity she had, she shot upright ¡°Don¡¯t you dare,¡± she said, her tone menacing. Omi smirked in response. ¡°I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about.¡± ¡°The biggest room is on the third floor,¡± Rowan pointed up and that was enough to get them moving. Omi burst into the house, practically flying up the stairs and out of sight, Silvia following close behind. ¡°Was that really necessary?¡± Nemir snorted. Rowan shrugged, his lips curling upwards. ¡°They¡¯ve been cheering for my blood for the last few hours. Let me have my fun.¡± Annie stood up, walking to the open door. ¡°First floor?¡± ¡°Yup. Second door on the left.¡± Rowan answered. ¡°Even has an attached bathroom.¡± She sighed, wagging her finger at him. ¡°Like I said, schemes.¡± She walked into the house, casually making her way up the stairs. Zoe closed her book and stood up, following after her without a word. Nemir set down his mug, refilling both his own and Rowans. ¡°And what¡¯s on the third floor?¡± ¡°Mostly storage.¡± He laughed, shaking his head in amusement. ¡°How long do you think until they figure it out?¡± Rowan smiled. ¡°Hopefully just long enough for you to snag a room for yourself too.¡± Nemir waved him off. ¡°I¡¯m fine with whatever is left,¡± he looked at Rowan with a thoughtful expression. ¡°Thank you for offering,¡± he finally said. ¡°We¡¯ve been talking about doing something like this for a while, and this place looks perfect. Walled off, a big yard to practice and spar, and close enough to the Hall.¡± He tapped his finger against the table. ¡°How much?¡± Rowan frowned. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°How much gold?¡± he asked. ¡°A house this big couldn¡¯t come cheap.¡± It took him a moment to realize what he was asking. ¡°Oh, it isn¡¯t mine,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m just renting it.¡± Nemir arched an eyebrow. ¡°And you¡¯re paying for that with kind words, are you?¡± In truth, Rowan didn¡¯t exactly know how much it had cost him. He gave a pouch of gold to the mayor''s clerk when he¡¯d first gotten to Litwick, and he told him it was his for the next year. Supposedly, it was the house of a Silver-rank. One that didn¡¯t spend all that much time in the region. But Rowan hadn¡¯t really asked, and neither had he cared all that much. It was his turn to wave him off. ¡°I honestly don¡¯t know how much. And besides, I¡¯m not taking your gold. In fact, I officially name myself team treasurer.¡± He looked around. ¡°Where¡¯d that bean go?¡± Rowan started to stand up, but Nemir pulled him back down. ¡°No need to get the bean involved,¡± he chuckled, a knowing look flashing across his face. ¡°You weren¡¯t lying, were you?¡± he asked softly. ¡°About what?¡± ¡°Having a dragon¡¯s hoard,¡± he said, gesturing at his ring. ¡°Are you sure you should have said that? A storage ring by itself is more than enough for people to get greedy. And if word gets out, it might spell trouble.¡± Rowan sighed. ¡°It¡¯s already out. If Misk knew, that means others do too. No point in denying it.¡± A smile tugged at his lips. ¡°But the question is; are they capable of taking it from me?¡± Rowan doubted it was over. When Killian came back, he would definitely have something to say about what happened. He didn¡¯t seem like a man who¡¯d take his name being dragged through the mud lying down. And out of the two of them, he¡¯d been in Litwick much longer. A Silver-rank with a team as large as the Steel Fist was bound to have friends. Ones Rowan would rather not meet for at least the next few days. Annie walked back out into the yard, her jacket nowhere to be seen. ¡°The tubs are enchanted,¡± she said, crossing her arms. ¡°Is there a reason you¡¯ve never mentioned that?¡± ¡°You never asked,¡± Rowan shrugged. She stepped around the table, walking up to where she left her stick and picking it up. ¡°Alright, break¡¯s over,¡± she declared, slapping it against her palm. ¡°But seeing as you gave me a good room, I might just go easy on you.¡± Rowan snorted, standing up and taking off his shirt. ¡°For some reason, I doubt that.¡± He stepped onto the grass, making his way to the oak and kneeling down. Rowan turned his back to her, getting ready for what most likely wouldn¡¯t be an all too enjoyable few hours. Despite that, he couldn¡¯t keep a smile off his face. His soul was healing, his friends were close by, and he didn¡¯t have to worry about an angry Silver-rank pounding on his door. Right now, things were good. And finally gaining a skill would make them that much better. Annie swung at his back. Then she did it again. And again. And again. Chapter 30 - Toughening Up Over the next few days, the usually quiet house became a hub of activity. The team moved in, and they slowly settled into a routine. They still started their days with breakfast at the Guild Hall, but they exchanged the training yard for a more private setting. Each one of them took turns helping Rowan with Skin Toughening. Rotating between practicing amongst themselves, working on their skills, and beating him black and blue. Thankfully, the pain had grown muted the longer they kept at it, and Rowan found himself complaining less and less often. Zoe kept him going with her healing, managing to push away his fatigue with a simple touch. ¡°So you¡¯re saying that after this, I should be done?¡± Rowan asked, wincing as he rolled a staff across his shins, scraping at his skin. Annie nodded. ¡°If we did everything right, then yes.¡± ¡°And if we didn¡¯t?¡± She smirked. ¡°Then we get to do it all over again.¡± Rowan sighed, hoping to all the gods that wouldn¡¯t be the case. A definite change had come over his body these last few days. It started with the skin on his back, spread to his arms and chest, and now it was finally reaching his legs. His skin was definitely tougher. And the longer he kept at it, the more apparent it became. All that was left was for the System to acknowledge it. ¡°You think about what skill you¡¯re gonna pick?¡± Annie asked, lounging on a chair while Rowan continued torturing himself. ¡°I know they aren¡¯t as fancy as your spells, but a good skill can be just as useful. If not more so.¡± ¡°Depends on what I¡¯m offered,¡± he answered. ¡°But I¡¯m probably going to go for something that helps with my focus. Or maybe agility. I¡¯m honestly not sure yet.¡± ¡°Have you thought about a weapon skill?¡± Rowan shook his head. ¡°No, not really. I feel like that¡¯d be a waste.¡± He drew on his mana, threading it through his channels and towards his palm. A small flame bloomed a heartbeat later, dancing around his fingers. ¡°Magic is always going to be my go-to weapon,¡± he said, a small smile on his face. His Soul still wasn¡¯t fully healed. But compared to how it was right after he¡¯d gotten back from the Plateau, the difference was night and day. He could cast all of his Whisper-level spells without pain, and Rowan felt like being able to do the same with Murmur¡¯s wasn¡¯t all that far off. ¡°Not to discount the damage a well-placed [Slash] can do,¡± he quickly added. ¡°But I¡¯ll never be on the same level as someone who dedicates most of their time to the sword, or spear, or really any weapon.¡± She chuckled, feeding Kai a piece of chicken. ¡°Fair enough.¡± His familiar¡ªto the surprise of no one¡ªwas ecstatic to have more people in the house. It meant more chances for him to charm a meal out of someone. Or if that didn¡¯t work, there were always other options available. He pecked at a plate Omi had left unattended, scarfing down the meat with quick bites. They spent the next few minutes in comfortable silence before Annie spoke again. ¡°How many do you think you¡¯ll get offered?¡± Rowan grinned, unable to hide his excitement. ¡°Guess we¡¯ll find out.¡± He¡¯d spent a large portion of his youth training under the best tutors and mentors his family had at their disposal. And while it hadn¡¯t amounted to much then¡ªhis apparent affliction making getting skills impossible¡ªhe hoped all those hours would now finally prove worth it. They settled in, and the hours slowly passed. His not-so-pleasant task made easier by the perpetual company that now moved through the yard. . . . The changes that went through Rowan¡¯s body were sudden. For barely a moment, a soft, golden glow illuminated him. Pushing away the fatigue and pain, leaving behind a sense of contentment. But it was gone as quickly as it came. Nemir pushed himself up from where he was sitting, a smile spreading across his face. ¡°About time,¡± he said, extending a hand. ¡°Congratulations.¡± Rowan smiled back, but right as he was about to take it, a flood of notifications appeared in front of him. His eyes widened at the amount, the smile on his face growing. ¡°Whoa,¡± Rowan muttered, starting to read through it. Nemir chuckled. ¡°I¡¯ll leave you to it,¡± he sat back down, taking a whetstone and starting to grind it against the edge of his blade again. ¡°If you need me, feel free to ask.¡± Rowan nodded absentmindedly, appreciating the patience. There was a lot of stuff to go through, and he was eager to get started.
Congratulations! You have reached level [12]!
You have gained [5] Free Points!
Your body has advanced to [Bronze II]!
You have unlocked a [Skill Slot]!
Body Advancement achieved! (2/5)!
Bronze I - [Awakening] (1/1)
Bronze II - [Skin Toughening] (1/1)
Bronze III - [Muscle Strengthening] (0/1)
Bronze IV - [Bone Refinement] (0/1)
Bronze V - [Organ Fortification] (0/1)
The five free points he left for later. It was the skill slot that really drew his eye. The first list offered was the weapon skills. Rowan might not have been a warrior, but he¡¯d been raised as a member of House Athlain. There were few weapons he hadn¡¯t handled. He¡¯d been taught how to wield a sword and spear by Grandmasters of those skills, and Masters for all the rest. But Rowan hadn¡¯t lied to Annie. He was good enough for the System to acknowledge it. Still, going for a weapon skill didn¡¯t make much sense. Rowan wasn¡¯t a warrior; he was a mage, and the single skill slot could be spent on something better. He was never going to measure up to Annie with her spear or Nemir with his sword. Or Omi with his daggers and Silvia with her bow. But he wasn¡¯t trying to either. He started reading.
[Slash] (Novice) - Sword
[Lunge] (Novice) - Sword
[Parry] (Novice) - Sword
[Piercing Strike] (Initiate) - Sword
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[Thrust] (Novice) - Spear
[Swipe] (Novice) - Spear
[Parry] (Novice) - Spear
[Piercing Thrust] (Initiate) - Spear
[Cleave] (Novice) - Greatsword
[Block] (Novice) - Greatsword
[Draw] (Novice) - Bow
[Straight Shot] (Novice) - Bow
[Bash] (Novice) - Shield
[Deflect] (Novice) - Shield
[Stab] (Novice) - Dagger
[Chop] (Novice) - Axe
[Sweep] (Novice) - Staff
[Slam] (Novice) - Hammer
It was gratifying to see his efforts plainly written. Each of these skills was paid for by hours of grueling work. His family had made sure to widen his path. Giving him the option of going whatever way he chooses after Awakening. Rowan smiled. It took a while, but I got here. His eyes moved further down.
[Grip] (Novice) - Strength
[Lift] (Novice) - Strength
[Quick Step] (Novice) - Dexterity
[Quick Hands] (Novice) - Dexterity
[Dash] (Novice) - Dexterity
[Quick Reflexes] (Initiate) - Dexterity
[Sprint] (Initiate) - Dexterity
[Dodge] (Initiate) - Dexterity
[Momentum] (Adept) - Dexterity
[Deep Breath] (Novice) - Vitality
[Resilient Lungs] (Novice) - Vitality
[Tough Skin] (Novice) - Vitality
[Breath Control] (Initiate) - Vitality
[Second Wind] (Initiate) - Vitality
The stat-based skills were something Rowan would definitely consider. Strength not so much. But Dexterity and Vitality had two that caught his eye. Momentum was an Adept-level skill, and those weren¡¯t often offered. Well, at least not at Bronze II. But Rowan was much older than most when they reached it, and his upbringing hadn¡¯t been all that common either. So it wasn¡¯t surprising to see it. In fact, he¡¯d kind of been hoping for more. The skill would let him build and lose momentum much faster than was normally possible, which was deceptively powerful in a fight. Being able to speed up your attacks, or slow yourself down after a powerful strike was a deadly skill to have. [Second Wind] was the other one he considered. It would let him keep fighting when he really needed to¡ªinsurance if things went wrong. The skill wasn¡¯t one Rowan though he¡¯d use much, but the appeal was certainly there. He continued reading.
[Concentration] (Novice) - Focus
[Calm] (Novice) - Focus
[Mental Clarity] (Initiate) - Focus
[Mental Fortitude] (Initiate) - Focus
[Iron Will] (Adept) - Focus
Rowan grinned. And there they are. Intelligence and Willpower didn¡¯t offer skills. Those two stats were entirely dependent on his Core. But Focus was different. It was what determined how long you could utilize your skills. After all, there were only so many [Slash]¡¯s a warrior could throw out before he grew tired. But it did more than just that. The higher it was, the more active spells a mage could keep up. And these skills would help with exactly that. [Calm] sounds amazing, Rowan chuckled. It might even help me fall asleep faster. Picking something from this group would directly help him with his casting. And that was hard to pass up. [Iron Will] sounded like the perfect choice. It was the second Adept-level skill offered, and between it and [Momentum], Rowan was leaning more towards having something that would be broadly useful. I¡¯m probably not going to run into a Psionic any time soon. But I¡¯d feel much better if I¡¯m capable of defending against a mental attack. The chances of that happening were slim to none. There were no mages with a mental affinity anywhere near Litwick, and if there were, Rowan had bigger problems. If a Blue-Core mage was after him, there wouldn¡¯t be much he could do. Skill or no. He kept reading.
[Focused Sight] (Novice) - Perception
[Keen Hearing] (Novice) - Perception
[Heightened Smell] (Novice) - Perception
[Soft Footing] (Novice) - Stealth
[Muffled Steps] (Initiate) - Stealth
Stealth is nice, but I glow like a bonfire when I cast. So besides helping me land a sneak attack, it doesn''t do much. Rowan hesitated as he reached the next grouping, unsure what to make of it. Social skills weren¡¯t exactly flaunted, but they weren¡¯t frowned upon either. Not everyone dedicated their lives to fighting. There wasn¡¯t a reason for an alchemist to be capable of moving quietly. Or a merchant to hold his breath for longer. Choosing something like that would have been a waste. And after what Rowan went through to gain that single slot, he understood why picking a skill was usually a deeply thought out decision. But being more likable? That was useful to everyone.
[Approachable Aura] (Novice) - Social
[Basic Persuasion] (Novice) - Social
[Convincing Argument] (Initiate) - Social
[Inspiring Charm] (Initiate) - Social
[Commanding Voice] (Adept) - Social
[Basic Crafting] (Novice) - Trade
[Basic Negotiation] (Novice) - Trade
[Basic Cooking] (Novice) - Trade
Rowan was sure [Commanding Voice] would prove useful. Yet picking it as his first skill didn¡¯t sit right with him. He didn¡¯t want to command anyone. Not yet at least. Being Adept alone was enough to make it worth considering, but right now, Rowan wasn¡¯t a leader. He was basically an obscenely rich hedge mage, and charm wasn¡¯t what he needed. On the other hand, [Basic Crafting] was only at Novice-level, yet it was one of the most versatile skills. One that Rowan was seriously considering. A [Slash] could be changed, but it would still retain the baseline concept that created it in the first place. A weapon. An edge. A swing. [Basic Crafting] was different. It could evolve into anything. The greatest smiths, enchanters, and alchemists in the world started with it. Dedicating lifetimes to change the skill into something astonishing. But as much as Rowan liked the idea of learning a craft, there just wasn¡¯t any time. He would need a workshop, tools, and hundreds of hours to achieve anything. So he wasn¡¯t certain now was the right time. I¡¯ll pick it at Bronze IV. After [Momentum]. Rowan would gladly try to master Runecraft. It was endlessly useful, and not to mention fascinating. The art would help him learn rituals, something that amplified magic by a substantial amount. However, that was a long-term goal. Not something to focus on with everything that¡¯s been happening. Killian and his team still hadn¡¯t returned¡ªwhich suited him just fine¡ªbut the situation wasn¡¯t resolved. He¡¯s definitely going to try something. Rowan wasn¡¯t so worried about that. His Soul was healing rapidly. And after that golden glow faded, it was even better than before. His channels still weren¡¯t fully unblocked, but Rowan felt like he could cast a [Firebolt] without hampering his recovery. No [Fireball]¡¯s yet, but he was getting there. More importantly, he could use the Vault again. Something he¡¯d been looking forward to for a while. I dealt with seven Silver-rank¡¯s at once, all of them with Core¡¯s. One greedy adventurer isn¡¯t going to be a problem. Rowan wasn¡¯t going to underestimate him, but they had bigger problems. The number of goblin sightings had risen sharply over the last week. Hobgoblins weren¡¯t uncommon anymore but were leading packs in ever-increasing numbers. Most of the Silver-ranks in the city were out on quests, with teams of high Iron¡¯s around them. There was even another shaman killed. Unlike the one he¡¯d fought, it only had a single affinity. But it was still concerning. The surge was getting closer, and Rowan wanted to be as strong as possible by the time it got here. But he didn¡¯t want that just for himself. He wanted it for the rest of his team too. Rowan didn¡¯t think he¡¯d have managed advancing his body anywhere near this quickly on his own. They gave him their time and effort, it was only right for Rowan to give something back. But first, he still had a skill to choose. Seeing the last four, his expression shifted. Rowan shook his head, not letting his thoughts spiral. No pitying myself today, he told himself. What¡¯s the point of advancing if I can¡¯t take pride in my achievements?
[Courtly Etiquette] (Novice) - Noble
[Flawless Protocol] (Initiate) - Noble
[Gravitas] (Adept) - Noble
[Duke¡¯s Command] (Expert) - Noble
The only Expert-level skill I get offered, and I can¡¯t pick it. He remembered reading about this skill as a child, and the description written in the tome came to him unbidden. As Duke of Eiselyth, your word carries weight. The Authority of your title empowers your voice, compelling those loyal to you to heed your commands. It was a skill he would have to pick up sooner or later if he wanted to accomplish his goals. But right now, those loyal to him consisted of only himself. And maybe Kai. The members of the Crimson Grove were his friends¡ªhis teammates, yet this skill was meant for something else entirely. It was for commanding armies, governing a region, directing warriors and mages of untold might. A Duke¡¯s command was a weighty thing, one Rowan didn¡¯t feel he was anywhere close to being worthy of. ¡°One day,¡± he vowed, his voice barely a whisper. ¡°One day I will be.¡± His fists clenched, a determined expression on his face. Rowan knew that the smart thing to do was take some time to make his choice. Whatever he picked would follow him to the end of his path, and that wasn¡¯t a small decision. But he was never one to second guess himself. Rowan picked a skill. Without hesitation, he confirmed it.
Congratulations! You have gained the skill, [Iron Will (Adept)]!
Chapter 31 - Gifts Given Rowan stood, letting the weight of the System granting him a skill settle over him. The golden glow that marked his advancement faded, but its significance lingered, filling him with a deep sense of satisfaction. His body felt tougher, his skin enhanced by what he¡¯d been subjecting it to over the last couple of days. And then there was the skill. He felt the shift almost immediately¡ªa subtle reinforcement of his mental fortitude, like a steel cable threading through his thoughts, holding them firm and steady. Rowan closed his eyes, testing it out. The persistent echoes of doubt and fatigue that always lingered in the back of his mind felt¡­ quieter. More manageable. He took a deep breath, savoring the change for a moment before turning towards Nemir. He looked up, setting his blade aside. ¡°Done?¡± he asked. ¡°Go on, then. Share.¡± Nemir looked genuinely interested to hear what he¡¯d picked, but Rowan had one more thing he needed to do. ¡°Could you get everyone together? I just have to distribute my stats and I¡¯ll join you.¡± Having everyone in the same spot would be useful for what he planned. Not to mention, Rowan didn¡¯t really want to repeat the same conversation four separate times. Nemir nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. ¡°You can never go wrong with Strength,¡± he said, flexing his bicep. Rowan laughed. ¡°I¡¯m fine with my normal sized arms, thank you very much.¡± ¡°Your loss,¡± he shrugged, entering the house and leaving him to it.
Name: Rowan Undomniel Athlain
Title: [Duke of Eiseylth]
Trait: [Immortal Soul]
Core: Orange [29%] [10 Levels]
Affinity: Fire, Wind
Body: Bronze II [2 Levels]
Skills: [Iron Will] (Adept)
Level: 12
Strength: 14
Dexterity: 30
Vitality: 25
Intelligence: 45
Willpower: 22
Focus: 25
Free Points: [5]
Rowan didn¡¯t think too hard about where to put them. He¡¯d picked Wind as his second affinity to increase his speed, so Dexterity was out. And out of all the rest of them, Intelligence was by far the most useful to him. Having more mana never hurts. With his choice made, Rowan stood up, turning toward the house. The faint murmur of conversation greeted him as he stepped through the back door and into the common area. Omi, Silvia, and Nemir sat at the table while Annie leaned against the counter. Zoe was at her usual spot in the corner, engrossed in her book, her gaze briefly flicking up as he entered. Silvia was the first to notice him. ¡°Congratulations!¡± she exclaimed, rushing up to Rowan and giving him a big hug. He laughed. ¡°Thanks. Took long enough, didn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°You were actually faster than I thought you¡¯d be,¡± Annie said, clapping him on the shoulder. ¡°Managing it in less than a week is impressive.¡± Rowan smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°Yeah, well, I doubt people do it for twelve hours a day,¡± he nodded to Zoe. ¡°And having a healer on hand sped it up even more.¡± She nodded back. ¡°You are welcome.¡± Omi smirked, leaning back in his chair. ¡°So, are you going to tell us what you picked, or do we need to beat it out of you?¡± Rowan raised his hands with a laugh. ¡°I think I¡¯ve had enough of that for at least a few weeks.¡± ¡°Alright then.¡± Annie punched him in the shoulder. ¡°Spill.¡± He grinned. ¡°[Basic Crafting].¡± The room went silent, and a deeply disappointed expression passed across Silvia¡¯s face. ¡°You didn¡¯t,¡± she muttered, shaking her head in disbelief. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ so boring!¡± Zoe tilted her head. ¡°It is a very versatile skill,¡± she said, glancing at Rowan. ¡°I approve.¡± Rowan chuckled. ¡°Now I feel bad,¡± he said, glancing at Silvia with a wry smile. ¡°I honestly thought about it, but it didn¡¯t seem like the right choice.¡± ¡°Good.¡± She let out a sigh of relief. ¡°You¡¯d probably pick something annoying, like alchemy, smelling up the entire house with fumes.¡± ¡°Stop stalling and say it already,¡± Annie added, tapping her foot impatiently, her arms crossed. Rowan had thought about lying, telling them he¡¯d chosen [Mental Fortitude] or [Mental Clarity]. Both were Initiate level skills, and it wouldn¡¯t be surprising that he had them offered. Yet that didn¡¯t sit right with him. Trusting someone was a decision. And it was one he¡¯d chosen to make. Rowan had more than a few secrets he couldn¡¯t share, but that didn¡¯t mean he had to hide everything. He looked at Annie. ¡°[Iron Will],¡± he said, a tension he didn¡¯t even know was there draining from his shoulders. Her eyes widened slightly, a surprised look flashing across her face before her lips curled into a smile. ¡°Focus, right?¡± Rowan nodded. ¡°It seemed like it¡¯d be the most useful.¡± ¡°An Adept level skill for your first selection,¡± Nemir said thoughtfully. ¡°That¡¯s rare.¡± ¡°Well, most manage it before they¡¯re twenty,¡± he joked, waving off the praise. ¡°But yeah. I¡¯m more than satisfied.¡± It was a strange sensation. Like having a dial he could turn up or down at will, heightening or lowering the effect of the skill. But even when it wasn¡¯t ¡®on¡¯, it felt like his baseline had grown. His thoughts were steady like never before, and Rowan couldn¡¯t wait to see how much it was going to help with his casting. ¡°What¡¯s it do?¡± Silvia asked, clapping her hands excitedly. Rowan thought back and recalled the description he¡¯d read in one skill tome or another. Forge your mind into an unbreakable bastion. Resist mental intrusions, maintain focus under duress, and push through fear or despair. Iron Will bolsters your mental defenses, granting clarity of thought and determination that is difficult to shatter. In times of crisis, this skill keeps you steadfast where others falter. The team listened intently, offering suggestions on how he could use it and reminiscing about their own first skill selections. It was easy to get caught up in the relaxed atmosphere. Rowan could have spent hours like this, talking to them about advancement, be it with spell or skill. But first, there was something else he needed to do. He closed his eyes, trying to figure out how to start. It wasn¡¯t the gifts themselves that troubled him¡ªit was what they represented. These items came from a past he hadn¡¯t fully explained to them, from a legacy far older than most knew. And yet, he had to share them. If one of them died because of his secrecy, he¡¯d never be able to forgive himself. ¡°I have something for all of you,¡± Rowan said, his voice steady. ¡°As a thank you for all the help.¡± Silvia¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°Gifts?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Rowan nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. ¡°Gifts.¡± He summoned the first item. A greatsword taller than him¡ªforged from hardened darksteel¡ªappeared in his hand, nearly toppling him over. The blade gleamed faintly in the dim light of the room, its surface unadorned. At a glance, it looked like a weapon a newly minted adventurer would wield. Basic in its appearance. But it had come from the Vault, and it wouldn¡¯t have had a place there if it wasn¡¯t deserved. Nemir frowned as Rowan handed the sword to him, trying not to grunt from the effort. Maybe I really should have picked Strength, he thought, watching his reaction. Nemir hesitated. ¡°I appreciate the thought,¡± he said slowly. ¡°But my sword is already more than sufficient.¡± ¡°Scan it,¡± Rowan said, feeling confident he¡¯d approve.
Name: Stormbreaker Greatsword
Grade: Epic
Enchantments: [Thunderstrike], [Sharpness], [Durability]
If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. It was easy to pinpoint the exact moment he did so. Nemir¡¯s eyes widened in surprise, his grip tightening around the hilt. ¡°I¡­¡± he trailed off. The others quickly followed suit, scanning the sword in turn. Each one reacting with the same mixture of awe and confusion. ¡°Where in all the hells did you get a weapon like this?¡± Annie asked, leaning forward. ¡°Three enchantments?¡± She shook her head, looking at him with a curious expression. ¡°That¡¯s a weapon suited for a high Silver-ranked adventurer, maybe higher.¡± Rowan nodded. ¡°That¡¯s the idea.¡± Nemir ran a hand along the blade¡¯s edge, his fingers tracing the intricate metalwork. ¡°I have nothing to repay you with,¡± he said softly. Rowan rolled his eyes. ¡°Repay me by not getting your head chopped off by a goblin, or a pissed-off Silver-rank. How about that?¡± Nemir chuckled. ¡°Aye. I can do that.¡± ¡°Besides, this is me repaying you,¡± Rowan pointed out. ¡°It¡¯s a closed circle.¡± Nemir swung the sword around experimentally, marveling at the balance. His movements were sharp and quick, precise in a way only years of dedicated training could accomplish. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ incredible.¡± ¡°Hey,¡± Omi yelped, ducking as the blade whooshed past his head. ¡°Watch where you¡¯re swinging that thing!¡± Nemir grinned, clearly delighted with his new weapon. He carefully set it down, nodding towards Rowan. ¡°Thank you, Jamis. Truly.¡± Rowan held his tongue. Suddenly feeling an ache in his chest. Here he was, claiming these people as his own, as his friends. Yet none of them even knew his name. That¡¯s something I¡¯ll keep to myself. At least for now. Giving them gear wasn¡¯t comparable to actually revealing who he was. Rowan was operating under the assumption that someone was looking for him. Or if there wasn¡¯t, that there certainly will be sooner or later. His name was best kept close to the chest. For his safety, and theirs. ¡°Don¡¯t mention it,¡± he replied instead, pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind. ¡°The stronger you are, the less likely I am to have my arm chewed off.¡± Silvia¡¯s hands shot up. ¡°Do you have more? Please tell me you have more!¡± Rowan laughed, standing up from his chair and moving the furniture aside to make room for the rest of it. The group watched him with curious expressions, their eagerness palpable. He started summoning more items from the Vault, each piece carefully chosen for the person it was meant for. Rowan had spent hours combing through the horde of weapons, armors, and accessories it held, looking for the right item for each of them. A gleaming set of silver armor appeared next. Along with a pair of gauntlets lined with sleek black leather.
Name: Aegis Plate
Grade: Epic
Enchantments: [Guardian''s Fortitude], [Durability], [Self-Repair]
Name: Bracers of the Resolute
Grade: Rare
Enchantments: [Steadfast Guard]
The room fell silent, the armor gleaming as the light from the fireplace hit it. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ wow,¡± Annie muttered softly, eyeing the armor. ¡°Wait your turn,¡± Rowan smiled, summoning Omi¡¯s gear next. He didn¡¯t give them time to question it. They could do that once all of them saw what he¡¯d picked out.
Name: Shadowfang Daggers
Grade: Epic
Enchantments: [Venomous Strike], [Sharpness], [Durability]
Name: Nightshade Cloak
Grade: Epic
Enchantments: [Stealth], [Durability], [Self-Repair]
Name: Boots of Silent Steps
Grade: Rare
Enchantments: [Silent Movement], [Durability], [Self-Repair]
Omi¡¯s eyes widened. He stepped closer, picking up the daggers and twirling them between his fingers with practiced ease. He grinned. ¡°Now that¡¯s what I¡¯m talking about!¡± The rogue discarded his treasured boots without so much as a glance, pulling on the new ones like they might disappear if he hesitated. Silvia looked like she was about to explode, so Rowan did her next.
Name: Bow of Kindling
Grade: Epic
Enchantments: [Burning], [Piercing], [Durability]
Name: Sylvan Ranger Vestments
Grade: Epic
Enchantments: [Nature''s Embrace], [Durability], [Self-Repair]
Name: Amulet of the Eagle''s Eye
Grade: Rare
Enchantments: [Enhanced Vision]
She whooped in excitement, rushing up to grab the bow, cradling it in her arms. ¡°This¡­ this is mine?¡± she asked, glancing at Rowan with a hopeful expression. ¡°All of this?¡± Rowan nodded, unable to keep the smile off his face. ¡°All yours.¡± The group descended on the gear, each of them inspecting their new equipment with a mixture of awe and bewilderment. Omi twirled his daggers in the air, testing their weight, while Nemir adjusted the straps of his new armor, checking the movement. Rowan watched them, a warmth enveloping him. These weren¡¯t just tools¡ªthey were lifelines. Something to give his friends the edge they would need if things went wrong. Besides Nemir, none of them were on the cusp of advancing. But with these items, he had a feeling even a Silver-rank would have trouble matching them. And against goblins, they would carve a bloody swathe. As the others admired their gifts, Rowan turned his attention to Annie. She stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching him with an expectant smile. ¡°Yes?¡± he asked, his lips quirking upwards. She clenched and unclenched her fingers. ¡°Gimme.¡± Rowan laughed. ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m all out,¡± he shrugged. ¡°I assumed aunty Quinea was going to outfit you.¡± She punched him in the arm. ¡°Aunty Quinea would run you through if she heard you call her that,¡± she smiled. ¡°But I might be persuaded not to rat you out. For a bribe.¡± ¡°You drive a hard bargain,¡± he said, summoning her gear.
Name: Whispering Spear
Grade: Epic
Enchantments: [Wind Dance], [Sharpness], [Durability]
Name: Mistwalker Lamellar
Grade: Epic
Enchantments: [Agile Defense], [Durability], [Self-Repair]
Name: Bracers of the Gale
Grade: Rare
Enchantments: [Wind Barrier]
She took in the spear¡¯s sleek design, her hand closing around the shaft. Annie twirled it around, a grin spreading across her face. ¡°Now this¡­ this I like.¡± Rowan left them to it, turning to the last member of their team. Zoe hadn¡¯t been with them for long. And he¡¯d call her more of a curious acquaintance than a friend. But she helped him out. Probably even more than the rest of them. It was only fair he gave her something too. ¡°I noticed you didn¡¯t have a staff,¡± he said, and a heartbeat later summoned one to his hand. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if that¡¯s by choice or circumstance, but either way, I¡¯d like for you to have this. As a thank you for all the bruises you so valiantly kept at bay.¡±
Name: Staff of Verdant Growth
Grade: Epic
Enchantments: [Healers Grace]
Besides the potions, the Vault didn¡¯t have a wide assortment of healing items. At least not at such a low rank. There were bound to be some stored away in the five other chambers, but Rowan didn¡¯t have access to those. The staff didn¡¯t actually have any healing properties. It just amplified them slightly. Focused them into something stronger. To use it, you needed to be a healer in the first place, something that made it useless to him. But luckily for Rowan, there was one right in front of him. Zoe frowned, closing her book and setting it aside. She eyed the staff for a moment, pursing her lips in thought before finally reaching out, carefully grasping it in her hands. ¡°I am not sure what to say,¡± she confessed, looking both grateful and hesitant at the same time. ¡°I gave you healing freely. You do not need to compensate me for it.¡± Rowan shook his head. ¡°I know,¡± he smiled. ¡°But I want to.¡± Zoe took a few seconds to process his answer. Then, a small smile appeared on her face. She nodded slowly, tracing the grains along the staff. ¡°Thank you for the thoughtful gift,¡± she finally said. Zoe spent a moment observing her new staff before glancing up at him. ¡°I would like to speak to you about something.¡± Rowan arched an eyebrow, surprised but curious. ¡°Sure thing,¡± he answered, looking at the rest of the team as they tested their new equipment, chatting excitedly amongst themselves. ¡°In private, if you will.¡± Rowan frowned, not sure what she was going for. ¡°Umm, okay?¡± But Zoe didn¡¯t elaborate. She picked up her book and set the staff against her chair, starting to read again. Rowan watched her for a moment, and when she didn¡¯t say anything further, he shrugged and sat down. If it was something private, he wouldn¡¯t press. And right now, he had something else to focus on. I outfitted them in the best gear I could, he thought, watching in amusement as Omi showed off his daggers to an uninterested Silvia. Can¡¯t really do much more. Nemir was the first to settle down. He set the sword across his knees, looking resplendent in his gleaming armor. Seeing the questioning look in his eyes, Rowan couldn¡¯t help but sigh. ¡°Go ahead,¡± he said, trying not to shift in his seat. He¡¯d known that pulling out a veritable armory would lead to this. He just hoped they were satisfied with what few answers he could give them. Rowan felt the weight of everyone¡¯s gazes on him. The questions, unspoken yet heavy, hanging in the air like a storm cloud about to break. ¡°Where did all this come from?¡± he asked, taking in the sheer scale of what Rowan gave them. ¡°These aren¡¯t just some nice trinkets¡­ This is serious gear.¡± The others nodded in agreement. Silvia, who¡¯d been running her fingers across the string of her new bow, set it down. ¡°Yeah,¡± she added. ¡°This kind of stuff¡­ It''s rare. There aren¡¯t any enchanters¡ªor smiths¡ªin the region capable of making items like these. Let alone in Litwick.¡± A sigh escaped his lips. He couldn¡¯t tell them the whole truth, but he could tell them something. Rowan opened his mouth and started talking. Chapter 32 - An Early Morning Rowan took a deep breath, trying to compose his thoughts. It was hard to pick the right words. Nemir had asked him where those items came from, and the truth was that his family had spent generations accumulating them, and so much more. Filling the Vault with everything from basic iron swords, to legendary weapons wielded by heroes of myth. ¡°I¡­¡± he sighed, shaking his head. ¡°I know you¡¯re not idiots,¡± he began, looking at each of them in turn. ¡°So I¡¯m not going to insult you by spouting bullshit.¡± Rowan ran a hand through his hair. ¡°There are things I can¡¯t talk about. Things that are better left unsaid. But what I can tell you is that I have access to certain¡­ resources,¡± he leaned back in his chair, spinning the ring on his finger. ¡°Let¡¯s call it an inheritance,¡± he glanced at Nemir. ¡°Those items came from there.¡± The team took a moment to process his words, and it was Annie who finally broke the silence. ¡°You call it an inheritance,¡± she said slowly, her word uncharacteristically soft. ¡°Does that mean¡­?¡± Rowan felt a wave of grief wash over him. It was one thing to deal with this in the privacy of his own mind. There, he could push it back. Drown it out with training and danger. But having someone ask, having someone care, it made it so much harder. For the first time since getting it, Rowan activated [Iron Will] in truth. The skill was like a bucket of cold water. It smoothed out his turbulent emotions, leaving behind a calm sea. Whoa, he thought, surprised by the change. I could get used to this. It wasn¡¯t enough to completely extinguish the ache in his heart, and Rowan was sure it¡¯d come right back when he dropped the skill. But for now, it allowed him to get through this conversation. ¡°Well, there¡¯s really only one way to get an inheritance,¡± Omi muttered. Silvia gaped at him, smacking him upside the head. ¡°Gods, you can¡¯t say things like that!¡± Rowan glanced at the rogue. A chuckle escaped his throat, and it quickly turned into a laugh. The rest of the team looked at him in surprise. Probably not expecting that reaction. And if he was being honest, neither was he. Rowan wasn¡¯t sure if it was the skill, the company, or the passage of time that made laughing about it possible. Most likely a combination of all three. But right now, he wasn¡¯t going to question it. Omi rubbed the back of his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips before vanishing a heartbeat later. ¡°I mean, he¡¯s not wrong,¡± Rowan shrugged. Nemir looked down at his new sword, a conflicted expression on his face. ¡°Then we can¡¯t¡ª¡± Rowan raised a hand. ¡°Let me stop you right there,¡± he said firmly. ¡°I want you all to have them. They¡¯re not doing anything useful in storage. And with the way things are looking, with Killian, and the surge, and who knows what else, I¡¯d feel better with them in your hands.¡± Nemir looked like he wanted to say more, but he slowly nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll take good care of him.¡± Silvia arched an eyebrow. ¡°Him? I thought swords were always her¡¯s.¡± ¡°Not always,¡± Nemir smiled, tracing the edge of his blade. ¡°Well this beauty is definitely a her.¡± Annie grinned, slamming the butt of her spear against the wooden floor with a dull thud. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen a movement enchantment before,¡± she ran her hand across the shaft. It had grooves cut into it, which created an almost woven appearance. It was taller than her, and unlike her previous weapon, the spearhead was firmly connected. ¡°I can¡¯t wait to test it out,¡± she muttered, her grip tightened. ¡°Thanks, by the way,¡± she smiled. ¡°This is an awesome gift.¡± Rowan smiled. Having a weapon with an enchantment like that amounted to an additional skill. And with those being hard to come by, it made a massive difference. ¡°It¡¯s supposed to guide your movements,¡± he started explaining. ¡°So you have to loosen your muscles to feel it. And when you learn it, the enchantment should be able to mimic an Initiate level skill.¡± Her eyes glinted with excitement. ¡°Like I said,¡± she nodded slowly. ¡°Awesome gift.¡± Omi showed off his boots next, and then Silvia mock fired her new bow. They went around in a circle, each member displaying an item, talking about what it could do against different kinds of opponents. Even Zoe showed off her staff, with Silvia offering to ¡®nick¡¯ someone to see how well it performed. The healer didn¡¯t seem to mind, but the idea was quickly shot down. Rowan shook his head, feeling foolish that he¡¯d expected this to be some big thing. They knew he didn¡¯t want to talk about it, and so they moved on. The same way he didn¡¯t talk¡ªor ask¡ªabout Nemir¡¯s obvious heritage. Or Annie¡¯s connection to the only Gold-ranked adventurer in the city. And now Zoe¡¯s connection to the temple. He was sure Silvia and Omi had interesting pasts too. She might not act like it, but their archer was skilled. Really skilled. Among their group, she was the only one with an Expert level skill¡ªsomething she didn¡¯t boast about. A feat few Iron-ranks managed. Their rogue had a [Shadow Veil] skill, something rarely offered before you had an Aura. Unless someone trained you for it. And now, that courtesy was passed onto him. The conversation moved naturally from there. Drinks were taken out of the cupboards. Glasses were given out. The room turned into a makeshift celebration, and Rowan gladly joined in. ¡°To the strongest group of Iron-ranks this city has ever seen,¡± Silvia toasted, already into her cups. They teased her for it, but they did join in. ¡°Well, she¡¯s not wrong,¡± Omi shrugged. ¡°With all these new goodies, a mage, and a healer. The six of us could take on a Gold-rank.¡± Annie grinned. ¡°I like the sound of that.¡± ¡°Whoa, now.¡± Nemir raised his hands. ¡°We¡¯re not there yet. None of us even have an Aura, so let¡¯s not go planning things that end with us being dismembered.¡± ¡°Not yet,¡± Rowan added, nursing a mug of chilled wine. ¡°But you¡¯re close,¡± he pointed out. Nemir rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. ¡°Even still, fighting a Gold-ranked threat is best left to others.¡± Silvia groaned. ¡°Just make the damn toast, will you?¡± He laughed, standing up. ¡°To the Crimson Grove.¡± The rest of the team echoed him, and Silvia made sure that Zoe joined in too. The rest of the evening passed quicker than Rowan would have liked. And while it was certainly different from the celebration in the Hall, he found that he enjoyed this one much more. His Soul agreed with him too. Because when he laid down in his bed¡ªfor the first time since it happened¡ªRowan didn¡¯t feel an aching in his chest. . . . The next morning, Rowan was woken up with a knock on his door.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. He blinked open his eyes, wiping the sleep away. ¡°What time is it?¡± he muttered, glancing at the window. The sun was just beginning to rise, and Rowan could hear the soft trills of Kai sleeping overhead. Another quiet knock made him get up, putting on a shirt. He opened the door. ¡°Zoe? What are you doing here?¡± he muttered, his voice still slightly groggy. ¡°I thought you left.¡± ¡°I did,¡± she said. ¡°May I come in?¡± Rowan¡¯s brain still wasn¡¯t fully awake, and he found it tiresome to be confused. So instead, he just waved her in. ¡°Sure thing. Make yourself at home.¡± Zoe looked around the room for a few moments. ¡°I would rather not,¡± she said, stepping inside. Rowan shook his head, finally remembering something that might help. [Iron Will] activated, and immediately his focus sharpened. It was almost jarring in its intensity. The lingering fatigue disappeared, blown away with barely no effort. Rowan took a moment to find his bearings. But when he did, he was fully awake. He closed the door, moving back to the bed and sitting on the edge. ¡°Is this about last night?¡± ¡°Yes. There is something I would like to talk to you about.¡± Zoe stepped closer, and after a moment''s hesitation, she pulled up a chair. ¡°I do apologize for waking you. But I prefer that the others are asleep while we have this conversation.¡± Rowan¡¯s curiosity piqued, he nodded. ¡°Go ahead. If it¡¯s something I can answer, I will. But besides that, I can¡¯t promise much.¡± ¡°It is more an observation than a question,¡± she said, her brows furrowed in thought. ¡°I haven¡¯t been completely honest with you. And it is making my calves ache.¡± ¡°What?¡± he asked, [Iron Will] not strong enough to deal with the confusion. ¡°Why would your calves be aching from that?¡± ¡°Not important,¡± she quickly added, looking almost flustered. ¡°I would like to focus on the dishonesty.¡± Rowan chuckled. ¡°It was kind of the theme of the night. So don¡¯t worry too much about it.¡± He was more than a little intrigued about where Zoe was going with this. But just because he wasn¡¯t going to probe for the answers didn¡¯t mean he wasn¡¯t interested in knowing them. Then she made her observation, and Rowan¡¯s breath caught. ¡°Your soul is strange.¡± Those four words were enough to put him on edge. How does she know? What does she know? Who did she tell? [Iron Will] curbed the worst of them, but Rowan still found himself concerned. His trait was a secret even more dangerous than his past. And here she was, spitting it out like they were discussing the weather. Calm down, he told himself. There¡¯s no way she knows anything specific. ¡°It is like a raging bonfire. Neverending.¡± Rowan''s head fell into his hands. Well, fuck. He looked up at her, not really knowing what to do.
Level: 12
Body: Bronze II [2 Levels]
Blessing: Glimmer [10 Levels]
Still Glimmer. So there shouldn¡¯t have been a way for her to see anything concerning my soul. That was something priests with Brilliance, or even Radiance-level blessings had trouble with. And Zoe was still far from that level. ¡°How do you know that?¡± he asked. ¡°And why are you asking?¡± Those were the two most important questions he could think of. If she was capable of seeing it, then there were certainly more people out there who could too. And Rowan would need to find a way of stopping that from happening if he wanted it to remain hidden. The other question concerned her goals, and that one she answered first. ¡°I would like for you to talk to the head priest about it.¡± Rowan was about to deny her request, but then her eyes lit up in realization. ¡°Oh, I was instructed to do something.¡± Her hands clasped together, raising them to her forehead. ¡°By Eldara¡¯s name, I vow to keep this confidence.¡± A soft golden glow illuminated her fingers, almost like she was holding a candle in between her palms. It transformed into thin chains, moving across her hands and wrapping around both of her index fingers. It dissipated a heartbeat later, but its significance lingered. The tension drained from Rowan¡¯s shoulders, a breath he didn¡¯t even know he was holding leaving his mouth. A vow wasn¡¯t so easily broken. She¡¯d managed to cut off his spiraling thoughts with a few words, and the shakiness in Rowan¡¯s hands receded. ¡°You know, you really should have led with that.¡± Zoe tilted her head. ¡°I apologize. It slipped my mind,¡± a frown creased her forehead. ¡°You looked troubled,¡± she said, using her highly honed observation skills. ¡°Did the vow help?¡± Rowan chuckled. ¡°Yes, it did.¡± It was one thing to talk about his trait with a random person he found on the street, and another to an ordained priestess of Eldara. Something he found himself forgetting she was after spending time with her. Zoe spent most of her time reading and listening, not spreading her faith to anyone who would hear it. Probably for a reason. She doesn''t seem like a good fit for the job. She was obviously a skilled healer, but a preacher, she was not. ¡°I am glad,¡± she said, absentmindedly twirling a lock of her hair. ¡°There is one more thing.¡± Rowan sighed. Of course there is. ¡°Go on then. No point in beating around the bush.¡± Zoe¡¯s brows furrowed, as if she was looking for the right words. After a few seconds of silence, she started talking. ¡°I didn¡¯t join your team on a whim. Some six months ago, my lady granted me a vision, commanding me to journey to Litwick and find you,¡± she continued before Rowan could voice one of the dozen or so questions¡ªand concerns¡ªher statement brought up. ¡°I do not know why. She did not deign to share that information with me. But I do know she wishes for me to be here.¡± Zoe ran a finger along the shaft of her new staff. ¡°I was born with [Soul Sight]. That was what allowed me to locate you,¡± she looked at him, a relaxed expression on her face, the complete opposite to the one Rowan was sporting on his. ¡°How many people know?¡± ¡°Oh?¡± She seemed almost surprised by the question, but it was the only thing on Rowan¡¯s mind. If she¡¯d gotten a vision from a Goddess, Zoe was a much different existence than he¡¯d thought. There was only a single group in Eldara¡¯s priesthood that was capable of such a feat. Apostles. And while Rowan felt sure she was only a candidate, that didn¡¯t make him feel all that much better. ¡°Do not worry,¡± she waved off his concerns. ¡°Other than three Archpriests and myself, no one else knows of my task. The lady was clear in her desire for discretion.¡± Rowan pushed [Iron Will] further, needing a clear mind for wherever this conversation was leading. I decidedly do not want Gods showing interest in me, he was certain of that. But if what she¡¯s saying is true¡ªand I don¡¯t think she¡¯s lying¡ªEldara sent someone to find me the moment I Awakened. And not only that, but she knew I¡¯d go to Litwick. That was a knot Rowan wasn¡¯t anywhere near being capable of untangling. Gods were beings you didn¡¯t try to understand, or limit. ¡°And what was the vision?¡± he finally asked, voicing the question that he didn¡¯t know if he wanted an answer to. Zoe looked uncomfortable, and that only served to put Rowan more on edge. ¡°Come on, spill it out,¡± he said, leaning forward, his grip on the bed frame tightening. She sighed, her expression softening. ¡°The vision was of you. Lying in a pool of your own blood. An onyx blade thrust through your heart.¡± Before Rowan acknowledged her revelation, Zoe stood up, tapping her staff against the wooden floor. ¡°But I was sent to prevent that from happening,¡± she smiled. ¡°And to accomplish that, I would advise you to speak with the High-priest. He is more knowledgeable than I when it comes to Souls,¡± she finished, seemingly satisfied with the way this conversation had gone. The High-priest was a Guide. And Rowan could admit that some advice wouldn¡¯t go amiss. Especially when dealing with something as dangerous as a soul. The one time he¡¯d managed to touch upon that apparently endless well of power, it had fried his channels. Which was an experience he had no desire of repeating. Especially not now. Rowan took a deep breath, closing his eyes and taking a moment. His mind was trying to pull his thoughts in too many directions. Focusing on questions he had no way of answering. The workings of Gods were far beyond him, and they would be for a long while yet. There was nothing to be gained by dwelling on the vision. He could have died against the shaman, and against the Wyrmlings. The Path he was walking wasn¡¯t a safe one. He accepted that. A vision from a Goddess changed nothing. So instead, Rowan focused on what he knew for certain. She vowed to keep my confidence. And a Guide would do the same. His mind made up, Rowan stood up and walked towards his table. He wrote out a quick note, telling the team where he¡¯d gone. They¡¯d be asleep for a few hours yet, but he didn¡¯t want them to worry when they did wake up. ¡°Alright,¡± he said, slipping on his coat. ¡°Lead the way.¡± Zoe stood up as well, and without another word, they left his room. Making their way to the temple of Eldara. Chapter 33 - The Temple The streets of Litwick were eerily quiet in the early hours of the morning, the soft glow of lanterns still flickering along the cobbled paths. A faint mist lingered in the air, swirling around Rowan¡¯s boots with each step. The city, often alive with the bustle of adventurers and merchants, now felt almost peaceful. Rowan adjusted his coat against the cool breeze, his hands slipping into the pockets as he glanced at Zoe walking beside him. Her usual calm demeanor seemed even more pronounced in the quiet of the dawn. She carried herself with the same poise she always did, her staff tapping against the ground with each step. He¡¯d expected her to be talkative after the conversation they¡¯d just had, but she hadn¡¯t said much since leaving the house. Rowan wasn¡¯t sure if she was deep in thought, or simply giving him time to process her revelations. The silence between them wasn¡¯t awkward, but it was heavy. The kind of silence that demanded attention, yet neither of them was quite ready to break it. It wasn¡¯t until they passed the bakery near the Guild Hall that Rowan finally spoke, his breath misting in the cold air. ¡°So,¡± he began, his tone light but laced with curiosity. ¡°This High-Priest you want me to meet¡ªwhat¡¯s he like?¡± If he was going to talk to someone about his biggest secret, he at least wanted to know a few things about them. Zoe tilted her head slightly, thinking about her response. ¡°He is¡­ wise,¡± she said. ¡°A patient man, though he can be blunt when he deems it necessary.¡± ¡°Blunt but patient,¡± Rowan mused. ¡°Sounds like an interesting combination.¡± ¡°It serves him well,¡± Zoe replied. ¡°He has guided the people of Litwick for many years. And despite his position, he does not indulge in pretense.¡± Her answer only added to his curiosity. ¡°And how is he supposed to help?¡± he asked. ¡°With the whole me not dying business.¡± Zoe glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. ¡°I cannot say for certain,¡± she admitted. ¡°But if anyone can offer you insight into your¡­ unique circumstances, it would be him. Unless you wish for us to journey to another region?¡± ¡°No.¡± Rowan shook his head. ¡°There¡¯s no need for that. I honestly doubt he¡¯s going to have much to say about it at all. But you never know.¡± Rowan knew a fair bit about traits, having grown around more than a few people who had them. They weren¡¯t all that rare in the grand scheme of things, but they weren¡¯t common either. Some were as simple as having enhanced sight, while others¡ªlike Rowan¡¯s and Zoe¡¯s¡ªoffered advantages that were hard to put into words. ¡°Hey, Zoe. You mind if I ask you something?¡± ¡°No, I do not.¡± Rowan chuckled. ¡°Alright,¡± he said, looking at her with a thoughtful frown. ¡°How does [Soul Sight] actually work? I know there¡¯s a spell that allows a person to see another¡¯s soul, and I¡¯m pretty sure there has to be a skill that does the same. But what¡¯s it like having it as a trait? Is it always on? Does it tire you out?¡± To Zoe¡¯s credit, she didn¡¯t seem to mind his questions, and she actually took a moment to think through her answer. ¡°To me, it is normal,¡± she finally said. ¡°I have had it for most of my life. And while most would find my sight strange should they have the fortune of experiencing it, I have grown accustomed to it. Witnessing the embers that burn within has turned from trial, to comfort.¡± ¡°That¡¯s how you see them? Like burning embers?¡± Zoe nodded. ¡°In most cases.¡± ¡°And what about me?¡± Rowan tried to sound casual, but he had a feeling he¡¯d failed. The question of his soul had been one that he¡¯d spent more than a few nights thinking about. And now that he finally had a way to get answers, it was hard not to try and get them. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know,¡± Zoe answered. ¡°Your soul is obscured to me.¡± Rowan frowned, surprised by her answer. ¡°Then how did you know it was me you were looking for?¡± ¡°I felt it. Like a lead blanket draped over my shoulders,¡± Zoe looked at him. ¡°Even hidden, ripples seep through.¡± I have no idea if that¡¯s a good thing, or a very, very bad thing. On one hand, if Zoe couldn¡¯t see his soul¡ªeven with [Soul Sight]¡ªthat meant his trait had some sort of protection against it. Which was definitely a good thing. But on the other hand, if she could feel it, that meant that whatever protections his trait had weren¡¯t nearly enough. They fell into a comfortable silence again as they turned onto a narrower street, the spire of Eldara¡¯s temple coming into view in the distance. Its silhouette loomed against the pale light of the morning sky, a six-pointed star carved into the stone above the arched entrance. The temple was smaller than Rowan had expected, its design unassuming compared to the grand cathedrals he¡¯d seen in other cities. Yet there was a certain elegance to it, a sense of quiet strength in the simplicity of its structure. When they reached the wide wooden doors, Zoe stepped forward, pushing them open with little effort. The faint creak echoed through the still air, and Rowan followed her inside. The temple¡¯s interior was dimly lit, the faint glow of enchanted lanterns casting soft shadows across the stone walls. Rows of simple wooden benches lined the main hall, the faint scent of incense lingering in the air. Zoe didn¡¯t hesitate as she led him down the central aisle, her staff tapping rhythmically against the polished stone floor. Rowan¡¯s gaze wandered, taking in the carvings along the walls¡ªscenes of nature in all its forms, from lush forests to raging storms.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. They passed a priest sweeping the floor. He nodded respectfully towards Zoe, and a little less respectfully towards Rowan¡ªthough still friendly¡ªbefore returning to his work. At the end of the hall, Zoe turned sharply to the left, leading Rowan down a narrower passage that seemed to spiral deeper into the temple. The air grew cooler, and the faint murmur of morning prayers reached his ears, though he couldn¡¯t make out the words. Finally, they stopped in front of a heavy oak door, its surface adorned with intricate carvings of vines and stars. Zoe raised a hand and knocked softly, the sound barely audible against the thick wood. A deep voice called from within. ¡°Enter.¡± Zoe glanced at Rowan, offering him what he assumed was supposed to be a reassuring nod before pushing the door open. The room beyond was small and unadorned, a simple desk cluttered with scrolls in the middle and an assortment of herbs hanging from the ceiling. The man sitting behind it was older, his face lined with age but his eyes sharp and alert. He wore the green and gold robes of Eldara¡¯s priesthood, though they were simple compared to the ornate garments Rowan had seen some other High-Priest wear. He looked up as they entered, his gaze briefly settling on Zoe before shifting to Rowan, a kindly smile on his face. ¡°Ah, you are earlier than I thought,¡± he said at last, rolling up a scroll and setting it aside. ¡°Good, good.¡± Rowan stepped forward, resisting the urge to fidget. ¡°Please, sit down,¡± the priest said, gesturing at the only other chair in the room. After Rowan did that, he turned towards Zoe. ¡°Remember, sister, there is a healing circle set for tonight. We would all appreciate you joining.¡± ¡°I shall endeavor to be there,¡± she said, throwing one final look at Rowan before leaving the room and closing the door behind her. Suddenly, Rowan felt nervous. And even [Iron Will] wasn¡¯t helping. He was in a room with a man he¡¯d never met, expected to talk about things that he¡¯d much rather keep to himself. His need for answers warred against his inherent hesitance, and the latter was slowly winning. Seeing Rowan¡¯s expression, the kindly priest smiled and clasped his hands together, raising them to his forehead. ¡°By Eldara¡¯s name, and my vow as a Guide, I swear to keep your confidence.¡± His voice echoed across the room, the golden glow that illuminated his palms so brightly that Rowan needed to look away. Two chains wrapped around his forearms, holding them together before dissipating into ethereal smoke. ¡°There,¡± the man dusted off his hands. ¡°Now we can talk.¡± Rowan stared at him for a moment, unsure how to react. The vow certainly helped with his anxiety, but it was still there. Lingering in the background. I wonder what level of blessing he has, Rowan thought, scanning the priest.
Level: 45
Body: Iron V [15 Levels]
Blessing: Luster [30 Levels]
His eyes widened in surprise. Luster was only a third-circle blessing, coming after Glimmer and Glow. But it wasn¡¯t the blessing that caught Rowan¡¯s eye, it was the High Priest¡¯s overall level. He''s one of the highest leveled people in Litwick, Rowan realized. The Guildmistress was the only Gold-ranked adventurer in the city, and at Gold III, she was level forty-two. The only other person who could rival her was the mage advisor. A Yellow-Core mage with the tier-two Ice affinity. And he¡¯s level sixty. A wry smile tugged at his lips. ¡°Something caught your eye?¡± Rowan shook his head, trying not to feel overwhelmed. ¡°Sorry. I just didn¡¯t expect you to be so¡­¡± he trailed off. ¡°Strong? Dashing? A bit of both?¡± ¡°Let¡¯s go with strong,¡± Rowan chuckled, some of the tension draining away. The priest extended a hand. ¡°It seems we¡¯ve missed a few steps. My name is Aegar, High-Priest of Litwick and Guide of Eldara. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.¡± Rowan took the offered hand. ¡°Likewise,¡± he said, surprised by the hard calluses on the priest¡¯s palm. ¡°You can call me Jamis.¡± ¡°Can I now?¡± Aegar smiled, a knowing glint in his eyes. ¡°I hope you know my vow extends beyond just skill choices and stat distributions.¡± Rowan suppressed a sigh. Is there something on my face that gives me away? Katrin I get. We¡¯ve had more than a few drunk conversations. But this guy just met me. ¡°I do,¡± Rowan replied. ¡°But I¡¯d still prefer it if you called me Jamis.¡± Aegar nodded. ¡°Understood,¡± he said softly. ¡°Now, what is it that you wish to talk about?¡± Rowan took a deep breath. Alright, I guess this is it. ¡°My trait,¡± he answered. ¡°I have questions, more than a few, and Zoe said you might have the answers.¡± ¡°I may,¡± he said slowly. ¡°Would you mind telling me what it¡¯s called?¡± [Iron Will] flared as his nervousness grew, pushing it away. Rowan had decided to do this, and since he was already here, just walking away felt cowardly. If this man could help him understand even a fraction of his trait¡¯s potential, he needed to take the risk. There was no telling when he¡¯d have another opportunity like this. And while he could experiment on his own, that was a great way to blow himself up. Something Rowan would rather avoid. The blast after taking a single sip from that still sea was enough to kill seven Silver-rank monsters. To blow them away and splatter their bodies against the rocks like wet bags. It left him without access to his magic for a week, and right now, that wasn¡¯t something Rowan could afford. He took another deep breath, letting his anxiety melt away. ¡°It¡¯s called [Immortal Soul],¡± he finally said, his voice steady. ¡°It allows me to withstand a seemingly endless amount of soul strain, letting me progress my Core at a ridiculous pace. There¡¯s more, but I think we can start with just that.¡± Hearing this, the priest¡¯s hand froze mid-air. His eyes widened in genuine shock, and for a moment, he looked as if Rowan had said something utterly ridiculous. ¡°I¡­ I see,¡± Aegar muttered, his eyebrows knitted together in a mixture of concern and hesitance. ¡°An [Immortal Soul],¡± he repeated, the words sounding almost foreign. ¡°That is¡­ quite a claim.¡± He paused, glancing at Rowan with a frown. ¡°Forgive my reaction, but traits that deal with the soul are exceedingly rare. And for yours to be called Immortal¡­¡± He leaned back, fingers tapping against his knee. ¡°I will admit, if what you say is true, the implications are¡­ hefty.¡± Rowan snorted. ¡°Oh, trust me. I know.¡± Now that he¡¯d finally said it out loud, Rowan felt a calm settle over him. A weight falling from his shoulders. Aegar¡¯s lips quirked up into a small smile. ¡°I imagine you do.¡± He stood up, walking over to a corner of the room and taking two glasses. Aegar took his time pouring the water from a nearby pitcher, his brows furrowed in thought. When he came back and sat down, offering Rowan one of the glasses, his expression had shifted to a hesitant eagerness. ¡°Alright,¡± he nodded slowly. ¡°Let¡¯s begin.¡± Chapter 34 - The High Priest Aegar closed his eyes, hiding the golden glow that illuminated them. An incantation fell from his lips. ¡°Lady¡¯s Knowledge.¡± It was a blessing Rowan was familiar with, and he was curious to see it in use. Eldara¡¯s domain was broad, with growth decidedly under her purview. The Order of the Verdant Oak dealt with that particular aspect of her faith, being Guides for walking your Path. They could help with crafting an Insight to advance a skill, or even teach Intents for certain spells. Not that they did that constantly, but seeing one was common among adventurers and farmers alike. Their knowledge was useful in more ways than one, and the church made certain everyone had access. The only thing you needed to do was set an appointment, and the only cost was your time. In a city like Litwick, that meant waiting for a few weeks¡ªor maybe even months¡ªbetween visits. Bigger cities had enough of them to deal with that demand, but while members of their order were more widespread than healers, that didn¡¯t make them common. A Guide¡¯s time was valuable, and Rowan was trying to be grateful for receiving it. Minutes passed. Aegar remained seated, his eyes still closed. The only thing that changed was his expression, shifting between thoughtful and mildly peeved. Rowan continued to wait, observing as the glow moved from his eyes to seemingly emanate from within his forehead The Lady¡¯s knowledge was vast, and it took some time to look through it. Finally, the glow subsided. Aegar opened his eyes, his brows furrowed in an expression Rowan couldn¡¯t quite read. It seemed like a mix of confusion and surprise, and he couldn¡¯t decide which emotion dominated. ¡°I did find something,¡± he said slowly. But before Rowan could get too excited, Aegar continued. ¡°There was no mention of your trait by name, at least not that I¡¯m capable of finding. A member of my Order with a higher ranked blessing might have a different answer, but you would need to journey to another region for that.¡± Rowan couldn¡¯t say that he wasn¡¯t glad. If one of the highest ranked priests in the region didn¡¯t have access to it, it wasn¡¯t something most people would know. Not if they didn¡¯t go looking for it. A flicker of hesitation flashed across the priest''s face. ¡°I do have to ask you something. As I do with anyone possessing a seemingly unrecorded trait.¡± Rowan¡¯s eyes narrowed, a sudden sense of unease bubbling up to the surface. ¡°No,¡± he said simply. Aegar sighed in relief. ¡°I hoped you¡¯d say that,¡± he chuckled lightly, taking a slow sip of his water. ¡°The chances of it being completely unknown are slim, and me sending it to the archive for approval would have been¡­ laborious.¡± It took Rowan a moment to process what he¡¯d just said, his unease making way for confusion. He¡­ doesn''t want to share it? ¡°How does that work?¡± Rowan couldn¡¯t help but ask. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you want to expand your Lady¡¯s knowledge?¡± Aegar quirked an eyebrow. ¡°That is something I doubt will ever happen.¡± Rowan ramped up [Iron Will], clearing his mind from distractions. Alright, so he just doesn''t care. He made a vow to not share anything I say, and he doesn''t feel compelled to question my answers too deeply because he thinks it''s something others already know. With that realization, Rowan found himself calming down. Aegar was a priest of Eldara, a member of one of her sacred Orders. A Guide was someone he could trust with this. ¡°So,¡± Rowan said after a few seconds. ¡°What did you find?¡± Aegar nodded. ¡°I did find three other traits that might offer some insight.¡± Rowan leaned forward, an eager glint in his eyes. ¡°They are all similarly named,¡± he began. ¡°And after I tell you what I know of them, you¡¯ll understand my initial surprise.¡± Aegar straightened up, setting aside his glass. ¡°The first is called the [Saint Soul],¡± his voice took on an all too familiar cadence that pulled Rowan in. A teacher relaying a lesson. ¡°It was recorded almost twelve hundred years ago, belonging to an apostle of Eldara herself. Lumos Palantir.¡± The name slipped from his lips like a whisper. ¡°A healer of such great renown that it is said his mere presence mended ailments thought unhealable. His death is a mystery to this very day, though there are stories in the western reaches about a robed man saving a whole city from a necrach¡¯s plague before succumbing to their curse.¡± The mention of Apostles immediately pulled his thoughts towards Zoe. A healer that had been sent to find him by the Goddess herself. But before he could slip down that rabbit hole, Aegar continued. ¡°The second is called the [Warlord Soul], though it is as much myth as fact,¡± he leaned back in his chair. ¡°A Votary of Vel¡¯an once wrote of it when visiting the barbarian tribes to the east, some two thousand years ago. The leader of the fiercest clan was said to have possessed it, granting him unmatched physical might that he could channel into his army. There is no mention of his name, just the moniker of Warlord.¡± Rowan took a few moments to process that information. The System didn¡¯t choose names at random. And so far, Aegar had mentioned two traits with access to something seemingly endless. Just like that sea. A healer that could mend unhealable ailments, and a warrior with unfathomable might. There was definitely a connection there.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. The first is probably Divine Essence, and the second Stamina. It was pure guesswork on Rowan¡¯s part, but this was the information he had to work with, so that was what he did. ¡°What about the third one?¡± he asked, his curiosity peaking. ¡°The last, and most recent mention is the [Arcane Soul],¡± Aegar answered, tracing the rim of his glass. ¡°It belongs to none other than the Grand Magus of the Ascendant Academy, Horus Zam¡¯Del-Kilai.¡± Rowan felt his breath catch in his throat. What? For a heartbeat, the room seemed to shrink. The Grand Magus wasn¡¯t some far-off legend to him. He wasn¡¯t just the strongest practitioner in the kingdom¡ªa White-core mage with a tier five affinity. He was also his father¡¯s mentor. His father¡¯s friend. Horus had been like an uncle to them. Rowan clenched his fists, his chest tightening as memories flickered to life¡ªhazy images of Horus visiting his family estate, his booming laugh echoing through the halls as he entertained his brothers and sisters, his father smiling warmly at the man who¡¯d taught him everything he knew. The man Rowan had once hoped to learn from himself. Did he know? Rowan thought suddenly, his mind spinning. Did he know about my trait? He shook his head. No, he couldn¡¯t have known, Rowan thought firmly. He¡¯d have said something. He wouldn¡¯t have let me believe I was dull for so long. He wouldn¡¯t have let me suffer like that. [Iron Will] curbed his spiraling thoughts, yet it didn¡¯t deal with them entirely. ¡°Are you okay?¡± Aegar asked, pushing Rowan¡¯s glass closer. ¡°Take a minute. I know it must be a lot to process. You have no idea how right you are. He took a sip, unsure what to think. Rowan knew of Horus¡¯s trait, though not by name. His moniker was The Endless. One he¡¯d gained by performing feats of magic that would require a hundred mages working in concert to achieve. Is that what that sea was? An endless supply of mana? But that didn¡¯t seem right. Rowan was intimately familiar with his magic, and whatever he¡¯d unleashed against the Wyrmlings had been something else entirely. It felt like potential. While there were certainly similarities, Rowan felt that calling it mana would be an inadequate description. An Apostle, a Warlord, and the greatest mage of an age, he sighed. Lofty company. A surefire way for him to get answers would have been to go to the Academy, find Horus, and hound him until he shared. But that wasn¡¯t something Rowan could do. Or at least, not yet. The Academy was located in the Emerald Bastion, and the Wilds in that region were home to monsters much more dangerous than goblins and wyrmlings. Or in other words, not something Rowan could survive. So if each one of those traits offers some kind of resource, what¡¯s mine? He had never heard of anyone utilizing the soul for power. None of the books he¡¯d read referenced it, and neither had he heard anything from his family. Even in passing. Rowan voiced his question to Aegar, and finally got a concrete answer. ¡°Ah, you¡¯re referring to a Wellspring,¡± he said, a mildly surprised expression on his face. ¡°The Body stores Stamina, and a Core Mana, while the Wellspring stores Spirit.¡± ¡°And what¡¯s it used for?¡± he probed deeper, sitting on the edge of his seat. ¡°It¡¯s bound to be useful for something.¡± Aegar sighed. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t help you there. The soul is not a candle to be burnt. Spirit does not replenish the same way other resources do. So whatever amount you are born with, that is what you have.¡± ¡°And what if someone had a lot of it?¡± Rowan tried to keep his face blank. Not wanting to get his hopes up. ¡°Enough to not have to worry about overuse.¡± Aegar certainly had access to knowledge Rowan wouldn¡¯t be able to find anywhere else¡ªat least for a time¡ªbut it wasn¡¯t infallible. He might have been a high-ranked priest in the region, but he was still only of the third circle. A ways off from the true movers and shakers of the church. ¡°An enlarged Wellspring should allow for the binding of more items to the Soul. Yet besides that, I wouldn¡¯t know,¡± he shook his head. ¡°I understand why you¡¯re asking, but are you certain your trait functions like that? The name suggests durability, not quantity.¡± If I hadn¡¯t experienced it, I¡¯d have probably agreed. An [Immortal Soul] had to have something to keep it alive. And if it was truly immortal, that something had to be quite abundant. ¡°I¡¯m just curious,¡± Rowan deflected. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard or read about Wellsprings and Spirit. And it just sounds like something I should have known about.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not surprised,¡± Aegar chuckled. ¡°It isn¡¯t exactly a prolific topic, and those who do research it mostly keep the discoveries to themselves.¡± Sounds about right. A soft knock interrupted their conversation. ¡°High Priest?¡± a voice called out. ¡°The morning prayer is about to finish, and visitors should be arriving shortly to see you.¡± The older man sighed, standing up. ¡°It appears we are out of time,¡± he said, extending a hand. ¡°I do hope what little I knew illuminated even a sliver of your Path.¡± Rowan shook it. ¡°It definitely did. Thank you for your help.¡± Aegar waved him off. ¡°Please, I should be the one thanking you,¡± he smiled. ¡°It isn¡¯t every day someone like you wanders into our halls. And of course, you are more than welcome to come back. I will free up some time should you wish to have another conversation.¡± ¡°I might just take you up on that.¡± And with that, Rowan left the priest''s office, nodding in passing to the man who¡¯d knocked. As he walked through the temple, his mind replayed the encounter he¡¯d just had. The priest didn¡¯t tell him much, but it was definitely more than Rowan had known before. So he took it as a win. Presumably, my trait gives me an endless supply of Spirit. Only problem is, I have no idea how to use it. Rowan had tried more than once to go back to that strange island. But no matter what he did, it just didn¡¯t work. He just had no way of slipping into the right mindset. And recreating what happened in the Plateau seemed like an especially idiotic thing to do. He was sure that figuring it out would result in something special. Something unique to him that would hopefully allow him to fulfill his goals. But right now, that just wasn¡¯t in the cards. He needed to be able to cast. Being without his mana¡ªeven for just a week¡ªhad been a miserable experience. Especially since it happened right after he gained a second affinity. So while Rowan would have liked to experiment with what his trait had to offer, it just wasn¡¯t the time. A smile tugged at his lips as he entered the main hall, his focus shifting to his Core. The celebration last night had pushed his healing even further. And while he still wasn¡¯t ready to cast [Fireball] again, everything else seemed to work just fine. Might be time to learn some new spells, he thought, looking around for Zoe. The only Wind spell he had was [Gust], and changing that sounded like the perfect way to spend the time he had until a certain Silver-rank came back to the city. After a few minutes of waiting and still no Zoe, Rowan decided to start heading back. Looking for her seemed like an awful lot of trouble, and she probably had things to do in the temple. He stepped onto the cobbled streets. Rowan felt eager for the day ahead. There were things to do and spells to master, and it was hard to keep the smile off his face. But as he started walking, a familiar head of red hair caught his eye. Annie was looking at him with an annoyed expression, arms crossed as she leaned against a nearby building. ¡°Finally!¡± she exclaimed, walking up to Rowan and grabbing his arm. ¡°Come on, we need to get to the Hall,¡± she said, dragging him away. ¡°Whoa, slow down. What¡¯s going on?¡± She grimaced, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. ¡°Killian¡¯s back. And let¡¯s just say he isn¡¯t happy.¡± Rowan sighed, letting her pull him along. Well, this is going to be fun. Chapter 35 - A Quick Resolution Surprisingly, the Hall was mostly empty. It was still early in the morning, and the only people up were adventurers heading out on quests. A few nods were thrown their way as they made their way up the stairs. Rowan returned them, glancing at Annie as she said, ¡°Now repeat all that back.¡± He sighed. ¡°We¡¯ve been over this three times already, but sure, why not.¡± They climbed up to the third floor, entering a long hallway. ¡°He¡¯s saying that the Steel Fist helped on the goblin quest, and that they deserve a part of the reward. They want 250 gold for the Core I got from the shaman.¡± Annie nodded, pointing to a door. ¡°You¡¯re going to be the only two in there. He filed a dispute with the Guild, and you¡¯re representing the Crimson Grove.¡± ¡°I mean, it¡¯s not like we weren¡¯t expecting it,¡± Rowan shrugged. ¡°Of course he¡¯s going to say we¡¯re the ones who attacked them.¡± ¡°As far as the Guild¡¯s concerned, it''s his word against ours.¡± ¡°Good thing I stacked the deck,¡± he pointed out. Annie sighed. ¡°That trick was a good way to build popularity, I¡¯ll give you that. But the Guild is this.¡± She pointed at the plain wooden plaque on the door that read ¡®Guildmistress¡¯. ¡°And popularity won¡¯t mean much.¡± Rowan arched an eyebrow. ¡°Really?¡± he asked. ¡°Annie, she¡¯s your a¡ª¡± She cut him off, menacingly raising a finger. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare.¡± He considered it for a moment but thought better of it. ¡°I¡¯m serious,¡± Annie continued. ¡°You¡¯re expecting her to be on your side because you know we did nothing wrong and that they¡¯re full of shit. But it''s going to be the exact opposite.¡± ¡°Why?¡± he frowned. ¡°You have a fight or something?¡± Annie rubbed the bridge of her nose. ¡°Lady preserve me,¡± she muttered, taking a deep, calming breath. ¡°She¡¯s gonna make it some sort of test,¡± she finally said. ¡°Pit you against him to see how well you perform.¡± ¡°Even with the surge coming?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not like she¡¯s going to let you kill each other,¡± she shrugged. ¡°But I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if she put you in an arena against him. As a way to ¡®settle differences¡¯.¡± Rowan thought about it for a moment, and realized he was completely fine with that. With him able to cast again, and the rest of the team outfitted in gear worthy of their skill, Rowan was confident they¡¯d come out ahead, no matter what happened. And if Zoe was included on top of that, it wouldn¡¯t even be a challenge. ¡°Alright,¡± he nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll try to bait him. Make it happen today.¡± She grinned. ¡°Glad we¡¯re on the same page.¡± He¡¯s going to think I¡¯m still injured from my advancement. It¡¯s only been a week, but it takes most mages months to recover. I can use that. Rowan opened the door and stepped inside. Killian was seated in front of a large oaken table, intricate carvings adorning its legs and body. His expression wasn¡¯t exactly happy, but he didn¡¯t seem too annoyed either. ¡°Close the door,¡± the woman sitting opposite him said, her demeanor casual. Rowan hadn¡¯t met the Guildmistress in person, but he understood why the citizens of Litwick had such a high opinion of her. There was an aura to her, in more ways than one. Her hair was cut short, barely reaching her ears. It was a deep, chestnut brown, slightly curling upwards. From up close, Rowan saw no family resemblance to Annie, and while he¡¯d heard her call the Guildmistress aunt more than a few times, he wasn¡¯t so sure they were related. Rowan closed the door, making his way to the chair next to Killian. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, Guildmistress,¡± he said politely, inclining his head. A sudden sense of foreboding washed over him, and Rowan strengthened [Iron Will]. The feeling of being under the gaze of a predator slowly faded, but it still lingered in the background. He risked a glance at the Gold-rank opposite him, unable to resist scanning her.
Level: 38
Body: Gold III [38 Levels]
Core: N/A
There was a certain grace to her that Rowan had only seen in truly skilled individuals. She was balancing on the back two legs of her chair, the tip of her boot just barely pressed against the table. Even sitting, Rowan felt like it would take her barely a heartbeat to pick up the wicked-looking spear resting against the wall and point it at his throat. Her lips quirked upwards, and the feeling disappeared. ¡°Likewise,¡± she nodded, gesturing at the chair. ¡°Please sit. I have enough shit to deal with already, and I¡¯d much rather we get this over with quickly.¡± She opened the folder in front of her, reading out. ¡°The Steel Fist accuses the Crimson Grove of dealing in bad faith and unjustified assault,¡± her eyes moved to Killian, her tone disinterested. ¡°Did I read that right?¡± He nodded, looking like he was about to go into a prepared speech. ¡°Yes, Guildmistress. They¡ª¡± She raised a hand, cutting him off. ¡°Killian, we¡¯ve been through this song and dance enough times already. I repeat, I have shit to do.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Alright, I want five hundred gold from them. Two fifty for the Core, and another two fifty for the healing potions my men used after their fight.¡± Rowan arched an eyebrow, ready to add to the conversation when Quinea¡¯s eyes returned to him. ¡°Are you going to pay them?¡± He thought about trying to defend against the accusations, but that didn¡¯t seem like the right thing to do. Killian had obviously done things like this before. Extorting a team he thought was weaker than his. Quinea seemed awfully tolerant of that behavior, but Rowan shouldn¡¯t have been surprised. Litwick wasn¡¯t exactly flush with Silver-ranks, and each one was a strategic asset needed to keep the Wilds at bay.
Level: 27
Body: Silver IV [27 Levels]
Core: N/A
Killian wasn¡¯t the strongest Silver-rank adventurer in the city, but he wasn¡¯t far from it. If their little dispute could be settled with a fight, the Guildmistress had every reason to make it happen¡ªespecially considering the towering stacks of paperwork waiting on her deskSupport creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. Rowan shook his head. ¡°No, I wasn¡¯t planning on it.¡± ¡°Guess that settles that,¡± she scribbled something onto the folder, setting it aside. ¡°Tomorrow work?¡± ¡°Perfect,¡± Killian glanced at Rowan, a smug smile tugging on his lips. ¡°Oh, and it seems you¡¯ve advanced. Not to mention gotten a skill on top of that too,¡± he said casually. ¡°Should be a good fight, huh?¡± Rowan barely managed to suppress a smile. He¡¯s happy because he thinks I can¡¯t cast. Boy, is he in for a surprise. ¡°What? Tomorrow?¡± Rowan frowned, shaking his head. ¡°I can¡¯t. I¡¯m still healing.¡± Quinea shrugged. ¡°The Steel Fist has a quest to head out to in three days. And I want this over and done with by then. So it can be tomorrow, or the day after that. Your choice.¡± Rowan grimaced, looking away. He might be suspicious if I pick tomorrow. But I don¡¯t really feel like waiting another day to deal with this. ¡°Tomorrow then,¡± he answered, straightening up. ¡°No point in delaying. A single day isn¡¯t going to help me much either way.¡± For a moment, a flicker of approval flashed across the Guildmistresses face, but it was gone so quickly Rowan wasn¡¯t sure if he¡¯d imagined it or not. Killian clapped him on the shoulder. ¡°I like the way you think.¡± Rowan scowled, shrugging off his arm. ¡°And what¡¯s the format?¡± I hope it¡¯s one on one. I¡¯m sure the rest of the team wouldn¡¯t have trouble holding their own against his four strongest if she picks a team battle, but in the end, I think I¡¯d rather deal with this on my own. And it wasn''t just his overconfidence talking this time. ¡°It¡¯s a duel,¡± Quinea answered. ¡°Traditionally, the two highest ranked individuals in each team face off against each other. But you¡¯re allowed to switch in situations like this,¡± she shrugged. ¡°Though it wouldn¡¯t make much sense to send that swordsman of yours against a high Silver-rank.¡± Rowan kept his expression steady, not wanting to give anything away. The longer Killian thought he was at an advantage, the better it would turn out for him. Ideally, he¡¯ll only find out I¡¯m not actually injured when the fight starts. ¡°So,¡± Quinea clapped, getting their attention. ¡°Are we done here? All parties satisfied with the outcome?¡± Killian smiled, standing up and dusting off his coat. ¡°Very.¡± Rowan did the same, getting ready to leave. As they made their way to the door, the Guildmistress spoke. ¡°Oh, and one more thing.¡± The pressure descended on Rowan¡¯s shoulders once more. He saw Killian wince from the corner of his eye, but the spearman¡¯s expression smoothed out a heartbeat later. ¡°No killing,¡± Quinea said firmly, her voice like steel. ¡°There are quests to be done, and monsters to kill. The last thing I¡ªor this city¡ªneeds is to lose fighters for pointless crap like this.¡± Her gaze settled on Killian. ¡°This is the last time you do something like this until we deal with the surge. Understood?¡± He nodded, a hesitant look flashing across his face. ¡°Understood, Guildmistress¡± ¡°Oh, and if Jamis wins, you owe him a thousand gold,¡± Quinea said absentmindedly, rearranging her desk. Killian''s eye twitched, but besides that, he seemed fine with the outcome. ¡°Fair enough, I guess.¡± He shot one final glance towards Rowan, his confident smirk returning. ¡°See ya tomorrow, kid.¡± With that, he opened the door and stepped out. Rowan was about to follow, but Quinea¡¯s voice stopped him. ¡°You stay,¡± she said casually, but to him, it felt like a blade hanging over his neck. ¡°And close the door. You¡¯re letting in a draft.¡± Rowan gulped, doing as he was told. ¡°Yes?¡± he asked, keeping his tone polite. ¡°Sit.¡± During their conversation, the Guildmistress had been more focused on the papers on her desk than the two of them. But now, Rowan had her undivided attention. ¡°So,¡± she said after what felt like a minute. ¡°You¡¯re the mage Anneliese keeps telling me about.¡± What? Rowan¡¯s brows furrowed. Who is¡­ his eyes widened in realization. ¡°Wait, her real name is Anneliese?¡± he asked in disbelief. Quinea lips quirked upward. ¡°She didn¡¯t share?¡± Rowan shook his head. ¡°No, she didn¡¯t.¡± Well, not like I can blame her, he thought. At least not without being a massive hypocrite. ¡°Whoops,¡± Quinea shrugged, but she didn¡¯t seem all that broken up about it. ¡°Anyway, that isn¡¯t what I wanted to talk to you about,¡± she said, changing the topic. ¡°The shaman you fought,¡± her expression shifted, and Rowan suddenly wasn¡¯t talking to Annie¡¯s aunt, but the Guildmistress of Litwick. ¡°How strong was it?¡± Rowan¡¯s brows furrowed in thought, recalling the fight. ¡°It had Earth and Wind, and its Core was halfway to Yellow. But besides that, it wasn¡¯t all that skilled.¡± ¡°What about spells?¡± she asked, leaning forward. ¡°Could a Silver-ranked warrior have taken it out?¡± He spent a moment thinking about it. The shaman had been a tough opponent, that wasn¡¯t in question. But Rowan had won against it while still being a Red-Core mage himself. With only Murmur-level spells at his disposal. His pride wanted him to say no. That there was no way a warrior could have beaten it. But that would have been a lie. ¡°I think so,¡± he finally answered. ¡°The shaman didn¡¯t have Chant¡¯s. Or maybe it did, and just didn¡¯t have the chance to use them. But a high Silver-rank warrior with a well-developed Aura could have won against it. Definitely.¡± Quinea listened intently, nodding along. ¡°Good,¡± she said when he finished, rummaging through a drawer and pulling out a card. ¡°After your duel with Killian, you¡¯re going to go to this address and talk with Tremil.¡± ¡°The mage advisor?¡± Rowan asked, not sure where she was going with this. ¡°I mean, sure?¡± he said hesitantly. ¡°But why?¡± Tremil was the only Yellow-Core mage in the city, which made him the strongest¡ªor second strongest, depending on who you asked¡ªperson in Litwick. Rowan wasn¡¯t opposed to having a conversation with the man, but the Guildmistress had phrased it as an order, not an offer. ¡°Because things are going to shit quicker than we¡¯d hoped,¡± she said frankly. ¡°There aren¡¯t a lot of mages in Litwick, and I¡¯d much rather the first time you meet each other isn¡¯t with [Fireball]¡¯s flying overhead.¡± Rowan frowned. ¡°The tribe?¡± The amount of goblin quests being posted on the board had grown with each passing day. But he still hadn¡¯t expected things to come to a head so soon. A goblin tribe was a living, breathing thing. They had crafters, warriors, mages, and everything in between. For them to move across a whole region and establish a new base requires time. Time that had seemingly run out. Quinea nodded. ¡°Yes. We expected to have at least a couple of months before we needed to act. But plans change,¡± she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. ¡°In a week, we¡¯re riding out,¡± her voice was firm, like a hammer falling. ¡°Every single adventurer Litwick has to offer, and we¡¯re going to crush them before they manage to get a foothold.¡± Rowan¡¯s eyes widened, a sudden sense of excitement washing over him. An expedition against a tribe sounded like the perfect way for him to test his newfound strength. But the excitement quickly faded as a realization dawned. ¡°Every single adventurer?¡± he asked slowly. ¡°Does that include you?¡± A subtle smile tugged at Quinea¡¯s lips. ¡°You¡¯re quick to catch on, aren¡¯t you?¡± Having the Guildmistress with them should have made Rowan feel better, but in fact, it did the exact opposite. If she was coming, there had to be a reason for it. And the only one Rowan could think of was if there was a threat worthy of her time. It would leave the city defenseless, and a decision like that wasn¡¯t made lightly. ¡°They have a Warchief, don¡¯t they? A strong one,¡± Rowan muttered, tapping a finger against the desk. ¡°They do,¡± she nodded. ¡°And from what my scouts tell me, he¡¯s peak Gold. Not to mention a Warlock with the Dust affinity, a cohort of shamans by its side, and more hobgoblins than we have Silver-ranks.¡± She grinned. ¡°Should be a fun fight, don¡¯t you think?¡± Rowan took a moment to process everything he¡¯d just heard. If those numbers were right, it wasn¡¯t looking all that good for the city of Litwick and its adventurers. That was a threat they¡¯d need multiple Gold-rank adventurers to deal with, and right now, they only had the one. ¡°Yeah, fun,¡± he muttered, leaning back in his chair. I mean¡­ she¡¯s not wrong, Rowan thought, his lips quirking into a small smile despite himself. She deals with the Warchief, the mage advisor deals with the Warlock, and we use our mages to keep the shamans at bay while one of us rains fire and brimstone on the hobgoblins. His mind raced as an image of the upcoming battle formed in his thoughts. Him and his team carving a bloody swathe through a horde of goblins. Nemir¡¯s sword cleaving through them with ease, Annie¡¯s spear reaping a life with every thrust, Silvia¡¯s arrows drowning them in steel, and Omi¡¯s daggers slashing their throats from the shadows. It was exactly what they needed to get acquainted with their new gear. ¡°Anyways,¡± Quinea said, pulling him out of his musings. ¡°Talk to Tremil, and be ready for when the call goes out,¡± she waved him off, returning her focus to the mountain of paperwork on her desk. ¡°You can leave now.¡± Rowan nodded, standing up. ¡°I will,¡± he said firmly. ¡°And the rest of the Crimson Grove will be too.¡± Quinea snorted. ¡°Good.¡± Just as he opened the door, the Guildmistress added one final thing. ¡°Oh, and try not to embarrass Killian too much. He¡¯s greedy, and prideful, but he¡¯s a good warrior. And I don¡¯t want him pouting while he should be focused on more important things.¡± Rowan smiled. ¡°I can¡¯t make any promises.¡± He left her office with a bounce to his step, his thoughts centered around the upcoming week and the pile of work that just fell into his lap. A week wasn¡¯t a lot of time, but it should be more than enough to master at least a few new spells. Chapter 36 - Showing Off ¡°So we¡¯re going to be fighting a whole tribe? By ourselves?¡± Omi asked for the fifth time today. Annie rolled her eyes. ¡°If you don¡¯t count the few hundred adventurers that are going to be joining us, then yes. All on our lonesome.¡± Kai trilled, excitedly flapping his wings. ¡°Yeah, yeah, stop showing off,¡± Rowan snorted, scratching his beak. He tilted his head up, somehow managing to look smug.
Level: 13
Body: Iron IV
Core: N/A
His familiar was now, once again, a higher level than him¡ªand he wasn¡¯t about to let Rowan forget it. The unending abyss Kai called his stomach had finally digested his feast at the Plateau, advancing him to Iron IV. He was progressing rapidly, and another outing like that could push him to the edge of Silver They continued their walk to the Guild Hall, all of them outfitted in their new gear. Even Rowan had pulled out the Minor Staff of Wind he¡¯d gotten from the shaman, the gnarled wood tapping against the cobbled streets with each step. Nemir¡¯s armor had already lost its shine, tested against spars with each of them. His sword hung over his back, and he looked like a force to be reckoned with¡ªa wall of muscle and steel. The sun hung low in the sky, draping the city in shadows. With the shops closing, lanterns were already being lit, illuminating the streets in an inviting glow. The rogue casually slipped in and out of them, his black leather armor making him almost invisible. Silvia, on the other hand, was copying Kai, her back straight and her head held high, the Bow of Kindling slung over her shoulders. It was at moments like this that Rowan appreciated the city he¡¯d arrived at. Litwick was a small settlement, with barely ten thousand citizens within its walls. It was an unimportant city in the Verdant Vale, a region the Kingdom of Vandral scarcely governed. It didn¡¯t even have a Lord, but a Mayor, meaning that if trouble did come, help wasn¡¯t likely to arrive. They were on their own, and the goblin tribe was definitely trouble. There were hundreds of hobgoblins, all of them monsters with Auras, opposing a city that only had a few dozen Silver-ranks. They were outnumbered¡ªand that wasn¡¯t even counting the regular goblins. Litwick had at least a thousand adventurers, with more than half of those being in Iron or above. But a tribe was called that for a reason. If all of them managed to arrive, there could be tens of thousands of them roaming the region in a few short months. Goblins weren¡¯t especially dangerous on their own, but in such overwhelming numbers, even the weakest monster became a threat. That was why the Guildmistress was pushing for them to attack. It was an infestation, and they needed to cut it out before it took root. Rowan took a deep breath, activating [Iron Will] to settle his thoughts. That¡¯s still a week away, and thinking about it isn¡¯t what I should be doing right now. I¡¯m fighting Killian in an hour. I need to focus on that. Just like that, his mind shifted, the looming threat pushed back. Rowan couldn¡¯t help but marvel at how useful the skill was¡ªit was helping him in every aspect of his life, from casting to sleeping. After I learn a few Wind spells, maybe pushing for Bronze III is the way to go. Muscle Strengthening was apparently a vastly more enjoyable experience than Skin Toughening. Instead of being beaten for hours on end, all he¡¯d have to do was lift weights¡ªa lot of them, in ever increasing numbers¡ªstill, not all that bad a time. But that wouldn¡¯t happen till after the battle, since the week he had would be spent mastering his new affinity. Rowan had a list of Wind spells he wanted to get too, and seven days wasn¡¯t a whole lot of time. He¡¯d started learning [Feather Fall] yesterday, but it was a slow process. Much slower than Rowan first expected. [Gust] had come to him naturally, but that was just a Whisper-level spell, and mastering a Murmur was a definite jump in complexity. Just learning the circuit had taken him a few hours, and checking to see if he¡¯d actually memorized it another few on top of that. Mastering the four he¡¯d picked out probably wasn¡¯t going to be possible, but Rowan was determined to nail at least three. He had a way to quickly replenish his mana. The combination of drinking mana potions and using [Iron Will] to speed up the process meant he could cast a tremendous amount, much more than other mages. It was still slower than a vent, but Rowan didn¡¯t have those for Wind mana, so he had to settle for waiting the half hour it took to replenish his mana pool. Still, Rowan thought he could manage it. Magic had come easily to him, as it did to every member of his family. There was a connection that was hard to put into words. Like a song only they could hear. Rowan had never understood what his brothers and sisters were talking about when they described it, but after Awakening, it was impossible to ignore. Mastering his second affinity would require time and effort, but Rowan would master it. The only question was when. And it wouldn¡¯t stop there. His father and mother had been Archmages, on the cusp of taking that final step towards total mastery. Not just of a single affinity, but the magical arts as a whole. But before he could think any further, there was a certain Silver-rank he needed to beat.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. They entered the seemingly empty Hall, but the murmur of activity coming from the yard was impossible to ignore. Rowan frowned, walking up to the wide open doors. His eyes widened at what he saw, and he turned to look at Annie. ¡°Why are there so many people?¡± The yard was filled to the brim, the stands full of excited looking adventurers, some of which Rowan knew, and more that he didn¡¯t. There was a group of more than a dozen adventurers sitting next to Quinea, casually chatting amongst themselves. Scanning them, Rowan quickly realized what was going on. Those are Litwick¡¯s Silver-ranks. Well, some of them at least, he thought. The Guildmistress is probably using the duel to gather them, a smile tugged at his lips. If I had to guess, she didn¡¯t really feel like spending a day chasing them all down and repeating the same conversation. Annie arched an eyebrow. ¡°What? Did you expect the fight to happen behind closed doors?¡± she pushed him into the yard. ¡°It¡¯s a duel between a mage and one of the stronger adventurers in the city. Of course there¡¯s going to be a crowd.¡± A cheer went up as Rowan entered, all the people he¡¯d spent the night plying with drink and food seemingly on his side. He waved, but his focus was on the Silver-ranks next to Quinea. Besides a few quick glances, none of them reacted to his entrance. His opponent stood in the middle of the yard, his spear thrust into the hard earth point first, leaning against it. Misk was standing next to him, whispering something into the Silver-rank¡¯s ear, but Killian didn¡¯t seem all that interested. He waved him off, looking at Rowan with a relaxed smile. ¡°Finally!¡± he called out. ¡°Had me worried you wouldn¡¯t show.¡± Nemir clasped his shoulder, leaning in to whisper. ¡°Don¡¯t lose.¡± The rest of the team echoed the sentiment, and with that, they moved to the side of the yard, leaving only Rowan and Killian in the center. Wasn¡¯t planning on it, he thought, walking up to his opponent. His team¡¯s new gear certainly didn¡¯t go unnoticed, with more than a few curious glances thrown their way. ¡°Fancy,¡± Killian nodded appreciatively, pulling out his spear and resting it against his shoulder. They eyed each other for a moment before he spoke again. ¡°You can still back out,¡± he said casually, a confident smirk on his face. ¡°We both know five-hundred gold isn¡¯t going to hurt you all that much, and if your Soul is still injured from advancing, straining it isn¡¯t a smart thing to do¡ªespecially with the expedition coming up.¡± ¡°Awfully considerate of you,¡± Rowan replied. ¡°But I think I¡¯ll be fine.¡± Killian¡¯s gaze flickered to the ring on Rowan¡¯s finger, a knowing look passing over his face. ¡°So, you¡¯re not trying to hide it anymore?¡± he asked, gesturing toward where the Crimson Grove stood. ¡°That¡¯s bold.¡± ¡°No point,¡± Rowan shrugged. ¡°You already know about it, and your underlings do too. It isn¡¯t much of a secret anymore. I¡¯m guessing it¡¯s only a matter of time before word gets around, so I might as well get ahead of it.¡± ¡°Yeah, that was my mistake,¡± Killian sighed. ¡°Had a bit too much to drink, and my tongue got away from me. Should have kept that little tidbit to myself.¡± Rowan looked at him with surprise, feeling slightly confused with the direction this conversation was heading in. As much as he didn¡¯t like the man standing opposite him, it wasn¡¯t like he loathed him either¡ªafter all, Killian¡¯s only real offense was extorting them for gold. And before this whole situation escalated, it wasn¡¯t even a lot of it. Still, Rowan would be lying if he said he wasn¡¯t thrilled about taking some gold from the greedy Silver-rank. A thousand was a nice, round number, and Killian would certainly feel it. ¡°What, nabbing it wasn¡¯t the plan?¡± he asked, crossing his arms. Killian snorted. ¡°I¡¯m not an idiot. Stealing a ring from a mage with unknown origins is a good way to lose your head. And I rather like mine where it is.¡± Rowan arched an eyebrow. ¡°Gold doesn¡¯t factor into that equation?¡± ¡°Please,¡± Killian rolled his eyes. ¡°Gold is different. If I thought you didn¡¯t have it, I wouldn¡¯t have pressed for it. But you did kind of force my hand,¡± he gestured at the assembled adventurers, all waiting for their duel to begin. ¡°That stunt you pulled in the Hall made it so I couldn¡¯t just walk away without taking a hit to my reputation. Then that idiot got his ass handed to him, and here we are.¡± Rowan chuckled. ¡°So what, this is just an unfortunate misunderstanding?¡± ¡°Sure, you could call it that,¡± Killian shrugged. ¡°But you really should think about withdrawing,¡± he couldn¡¯t resist but add. ¡°Think of it like paying five hundred gold for a Soul-soothing potion. And if you ask me, that¡¯s a bargain.¡± Rowan looked at him for a moment before a short laugh bubbled up. It might be [Iron Will], but I¡¯m starting to feel less excited about embarrassing him. After Misk and his group tried to ambush them, Rowan made sure that the story got around. Killian had been out of the city when that happened, so he had no way of turning the narrative around, and this was what it led to. Rowan was strangely fine with that. Settling a dispute with a fight wasn¡¯t his favorite practice, but right now, it didn¡¯t seem all that bad. I kind of want to fight him for real, Rowan¡¯s brows furrowed. Winning with a surprise attack sounds so¡­ dull. Coming to a decision, Rowan cast a [Firebolt]. An orb of flame appeared in the palm of his hand, shining with a fierce red glow. It had taken him less than a second to manifest the spell. Almost reflexive. His mana flowed freely through his channels, like a river after a drought. The injury he¡¯d suffered on the Plateau was entirely healed, and Rowan had never felt stronger. He let it dissipate. After his advancement, his mana pool had grown tremendously. With the level he''d gotten from working on his body certainly helping. A single [Firebolt] wasn¡¯t enough to make a large dent, with the potion he¡¯d drunk earlier and [Iron Will] already working on refilling what it had cost. Meditating had made that a straining activity, but with his new skill, Rowan made use of his resilient soul. Killian¡¯s eyes widened, a look of genuine surprise flashing across his face. ¡°What?¡± he muttered, glancing back up at him. ¡°But¡­ how? It¡¯s been less than ten days since you advanced?¡± Rowan cracked a finger. ¡°Who knows.¡± The Vault was still a secret, but the fact he had access to a storage ring wasn¡¯t. He hadn¡¯t exactly been pretending to not have gold, so he may as well play into it. Not to mention it would also hopefully draw attention away from the recovery itself. Killian hadn¡¯t lied when he said that five hundred gold was a bargain for a Soul soothing potion. In Litwick, the only one who probably had them was the mage advisor, and he likely wasn¡¯t selling. Killian was having trouble shaking off his surprise, a hesitant expression flashing across his face. Rowan¡¯s smile widened. ¡°What? Where¡¯d your excitement go?¡± he clapped him on the shoulder. ¡°Should be a good fight, huh?¡± Killian winced, but a confident smirk quickly replaced it. However, Rowan could still see the undercurrent of unease hiding beneath. It was one thing to fight an injured mage, and another thing entirely to fight one at full strength. That¡¯s the look of a man who just realized he might be a thousand gold poorer soon. ¡°Well, alright then,¡± Killian finally said, taking a step back. Quinea stood up, loudly clapping her hands. ¡°Do you want something to drink?¡± she shouted, her voice booming across the yard. ¡°Maybe a hearty stew?¡± ¡°Fight already!¡± an adventurer called out, quickly followed by another. Rowan nodded to his opponent and made his way to the other side of the yard, ready to show what a real mage was capable of. Not just to Killian, but to the robed man standing next to Quinea. First impressions were important, and impressing the mage advisor of Litwick seemed like the smart thing to do. The expedition would be large, and Rowan wanted him and his team to have their pick of assignments. The best way he could think of to make that happen was to show off, so when the time came to pick who they would be fighting, they had a say in the matter. Rowan looked at his opponent. They were a good enough distance away from each other, but he was fighting a high Silver-rank with an Aura of Haste. He would be fast, and Rowan needed to make the first few casts count. Quinea stood up, raising her hand into the air. ¡°Begin!¡± Killian moved, and Rowan started casting. Chapter 37 - Duel Killian blurred across the yard with his spear held firmly in front, charging towards Rowan. In a straight line, it was fair to say that the Silver-rank was faster than the Wyrmlings. His legs ate away the distance between them, a cheer going out through the crowd. Rowan¡¯s heartbeat quickened, the thrill coursing through his veins. It was quickly followed by his mana as well, and less than a second later, a tendril of flame burst out of his back. Killian was already halfway across the yard, his eyes narrowing, a focused expression on his face. He¡¯d probably expected a [Firebolt], but that wouldn¡¯t have done much. His Aura allowed him to interact with Rowan¡¯s spells directly. And even without that, Killian could simply dodge out of the way. Fighting from range wasn¡¯t how he¡¯d win this fight. Rowan needed to hamper his opponent¡¯s movements, and [Burning Whip] was perfect for the job. Another one appeared, coming to Rowan with an ease that left him feeling giddy. There was almost no strain in keeping the two manifestations active, and he hadn¡¯t even used [Iron Will] yet. Right as Killian got into range, Rowan swiped down with both of the whips, forming an X. A green glow appeared on his opponent''s spear, his Aura finally active. With a burst of speed, Killian dodged to the right. His weapon slashed out, deflecting the closest tendril and ducking under the other. Rowan started moving. He made use of every single point of Dexterity he had, trying to keep his distance from the Silver-rank coming straight at him. His whips thrashed through the air, slowing Killian down just enough for him to add another whip. At three, he started feeling a slight strain. His mind was being pulled in multiple directions, and even though the Intents were the same for all three, it was no easy feat. Killian¡¯s spear blurred as it deflected each of Rowan¡¯s strikes. At the moment, they were about equally matched. Neither of them gaining¡ªor losing¡ªany ground. The soft green glow covering his spear rose in intensity, his opponent¡¯s speed ramping up. Rowan took a step back, an excited smile splitting his face. [Iron Will] flared, the strain dropping enough for him to get a cast in. Only this time, it wasn¡¯t another whip. Rowan raised his staff, pulling at the Wind mana filling his Core and guiding it to his arm. A [Gust] erupted from the gnarled tip, shooting out towards Killian at a frightening speed. The staff made casting Wind magic faster, and more efficient. Two things that Rowan definitely needed. In a fight like this, every second counted. Rowan¡¯s goal was to keep Killian back long enough for him to get more [Burning Whip]¡¯s up. His previous best had been four, but he had a feeling that number was a bit lower than what he was currently capable of. Killian¡¯s eyes widened in surprise as the [Gust] flew towards him. He threw himself out of the way, barely managing to deflect a tendril with the butt of his spear. Rowan used the moment of reprieve his spell bought him to cast another [Burning Whip], his momentum growing. The yard was filled with the cheers of adventurers, their voices growing louder with each passing second. A duel between a mage and a Silver-rank wasn¡¯t a common occurrence. Most of the ones that happened were between two Iron-ranks, so this was like a show to the assembled adventurers. One they were certainly enjoying. Rowan¡¯s gaze flickered to where Quinea sat, but his eyes weren¡¯t drawn to the Guildmistress. Instead, they focused on the robed man sitting next to her. Tremil, the mage advisor of Litwick was watching him closely, his brows furrowed in thought. Few people here knew how impressive Rowan¡¯s showing truly was, but the only Yellow-Core mage in the city was definitely one of them. Killian grunted in effort as the four whips snaked through the air, lashing at him with furious intensity. His Aura ramped up once more, giving him the boost in speed he needed to escape Rowan¡¯s ensnaring net. [Spinning Guard] activated and his spear flashed, moving faster than Rowan could follow. Each movement seemed to predict where his whips would be, allowing Killian to close the distance once more. Up till now, he¡¯d mostly relied on his stats and the mastery he had over his weapon. That alone had been enough to contend with four of Rowan¡¯s spells¡ªan impressive feat in its own right¡ªbut it seemed that was about to change. Quinea hadn¡¯t been lying when she said he was skilled, and the Silver-rank was proving himself a dangerous opponent. He crouched low, dodging a sideways sweep and nudging another whip out of the way with his Aura-covered spear. In the same motion, Killian threw himself forward, jumping in between another two of Rowan¡¯s attacks. The crowd roared at the display of agility, and Rowan was forced to take a few steps back. Well, if he¡¯s using skills, it¡¯s probably time I do too. Rowan pushed [Iron Will] even further. His mind cleared, and all thoughts but the present faded to the background. The slight hesitation he felt shifted into a calm, steadfast confidence, his smile widening. A fifth tendril appeared, and when that wasn¡¯t enough to keep Killian at bay, it was quickly followed by another. Even with six active spells and the occasional [Gust], Rowan still felt like he wasn¡¯t at his limit. He was certainly close, but he wasn¡¯t there yet.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. Killian tried to keep up with Rowan¡¯s attacks, utilizing his Aura in tandem with his skills to become a whirlwind of steel and fury, matching Rowan¡¯s own intensity. His spear seemed to bend and twist with each one of his strikes, sweat dripping down his brow from the effort. His confident smirk was nowhere to be seen, instead replaced by a focused, determined expression. From the corner of his eye, Rowan could see the expressions of the adventurers sitting closest to them. And while there was certainly excitement in them, there was also more than a bit of fear. I mean, understandable, he thought, sending out another [Gust]. Now, with six flaming tendrils circling him like long, lashing limbs, he looked more like a monster than a man. He could have probably ended this with a single [Fireball], but neither of them was going for killing blows. Their attacks were designed to burn and wound, not maim. A [Gust] clipped Killian¡¯s shoulder, pushing him slightly off balance. His eyes widened in alarm as the movement skill he¡¯d been utilizing faltered, leaving him in a very precarious situation. Rowan pounced, four of his whips slashing out towards him. ¡°[Forceful Retreat]!¡± Killian bellowed, using his stumble to bend his knee, push off the ground, and throw himself backward. Two tendrils missed him by a hair¡¯s breadth as he rolled back to his feet and out of range. ¡°Whoa,¡± he laughed, dusting off his clothes. ¡°You weren¡¯t kidding when you said you were fine.¡± Rowan started walking closer. ¡°Stalling, really?¡± Killian tsked, resetting his stance. He bent his knees and got closer to the ground, looking for an opportunity to pounce. Rowan''s smile widened. This fight was proving much more enjoyable than he¡¯d first expected. Killian¡¯s team might have been thuggish, but he himself was a competent adventurer, and fighting against one of those wasn¡¯t something he often got to do. It would be a shame to waste it. ¡°Come on,¡± Rowan taunted. ¡°You won¡¯t get your five hundred gold just standing around.¡± Killian¡¯s expression was a mix of confidence and focus, and Rowan could admit it put him a little on edge. If he had to guess, Killian had fought a mage before, and his opponent didn¡¯t seem like the type of person not to learn from a loss. Meaning that whatever he had planned, Rowan needed to take it seriously. The green glow coming from the spear shifted, moving down to Killian¡¯s legs and covering them up to his knees. It was obviously a movement skill of some kind, and Rowan didn¡¯t plan on being taken off guard. Four of his whips coiled around each other, creating a single spell as thick as a tree trunk. He pointed the tip at Killian, flaring [Iron Will] to keep his focus steady. Then, from one moment to the next, Killian moved. His body was a blur as the tip of his spear impacted Rowan¡¯s defenses. The force of the clash was jarring. Rowan¡¯s eyes widened in surprise, adrenaline pumping through his veins. It was like someone had poured a bucket of cold water on his head, and the only thing that allowed him to react was having [Iron Will] active. The crowd cheered, their fight slowly reaching a crescendo. Killian¡¯s spear impacted Rowan¡¯s spells with such force that his Intent faltered, dissipating two of his spells before Rowan even realized what was happening. Gritting his teeth, he jumped back, dragging his remaining whips to the front. But Killian had expected that. His legs still empowered by the Aura of Haste, he dodged to the side. Rowan¡¯s head swung around, trying to follow his movements. Another [Gust] bought him some time. He had enough Wind mana for another two, but after that, Rowan would need to find another way to maintain his distance. The distance allowed him to recast one of his whips, but before he could do more Killian¡¯s spear flashed. ¡°[Piercing Thrust]!¡± he shouted, quickly followed it up with an empowered lunge. Only this time, Rowan wasn¡¯t quick enough to defend. His mind raced as the spear tip raced towards his side. [Iron Will] flared, and for the first time since Rowan had gotten the skill, he felt it strain. The moment seemed to stretch, a dozen plans flashing across his mind, only to be discarded in favor of what he knew he had to do. His coat was enchanted and should be able to fend off the attack, but that was a card Rowan didn¡¯t want to play. That meant he had to reveal his ring¡ªthough not the one Killian was familiar with. He moved his whips away from the rushing Silver-rank, giving him a straight line to his target. It was an obvious trap, but Killian had no choice but to jump headfirst into it. If he wanted to win, he needed to get close, and this was the perfect opportunity. Their eyes locked. Rowan could see a challenge in his gaze, the way his body tensed, preparing for a counterattack. Rowan grinned in response. If he mistimed this, the fight would be over. Killian landing a blow would count as a win, seeing as if this was a real fight, he wouldn¡¯t have been aiming for his side. But Rowan wasn¡¯t going to make it easy for him. He¡¯d come into this duel hoping to show off his skills to the assembled adventurers. Winning wasn¡¯t required to accomplish that, but it sure would help. Not to mention he wouldn¡¯t hear the end of it from the Grove if he lost. The upcoming raid would consist of most of the fighting power Litwick had to offer, from adventures at low Iron to High Silver. Then having confidence in him¡ªand by extension his team¡ªwas a must if Rowan wanted to have a say in their assignment. Having the Grove fighting lesser goblins just because they didn¡¯t have Auras of their own would have been an absolute waste of their talents. Something he would make sure didn¡¯t happen. Killian moved faster than Rowan could follow, the green glow covering his legs propelling him forward at a breakneck speed. But the problem with his approach was that it was predictable. Moving this quickly, Killian couldn¡¯t turn. His trajectory was set, and that made him an easy target. He was gambling on Rowan not being able to get a defensive cast off in time, which, to his credit, wasn¡¯t a wrong assumption. [Firebolt] was his quickest spell, but that wouldn¡¯t do much in this situation. Right as Killian stepped into range, the tip of his spear blurring towards Rowan, he sent a small tendril of mana into his ring. The enchantment flared to life, a [Wind Barrier] appearing in front of him. It wasn¡¯t enough to fully negate Killian¡¯s empowered thrust, and his opponent took that as a challenge. Instead of retreating after his attack failed he continued pushing forward, trying to breach through Rowan¡¯s defenses. Got you. It took Killian barely a second to get through. But in a fight like this, that was plenty of time. The two whips Rowan had been hiding behind his back grew in length, manifesting fully. Even with [Iron Will] active and pushed to its limit, Rowan knew he wouldn¡¯t be able to keep it up for long. Having this many congruent manifestations was draining both on his mind, and his reserves. But he wouldn¡¯t need to. This fight was as good as over. Killian¡¯s eyes widened in surprise as the trap closed. The two new tendrils wrapped around the shaft of his spear, holding it in place while the other six slashed through the air. Without hesitation, Killian let go of his weapon and threw himself back. He managed to dodge Rowan¡¯s strike by the skin of his teeth, but with the loss of his spear, the fight was done. Rowan let his spells dissipate, his breathing ragged and sweat he didn¡¯t notice until now dripping down his brow. His reserves were almost fully gone, with barely a tenth of his mana remaining. But no one else needed to know that. For a heartbeat, there was silence. Then the crowd erupted into cheers. A smile tugged at Rowan¡¯s lips as he slammed the butt of his newly acquired spear into the ground. He could see the Grove celebrating off to the side, with Omi and Silvia shouting excitedly while Annie and Nemir tried to calm them down. Rowan¡¯s gaze moved across the assembled Silver-ranks, noting their reactions. Some looked thoughtful, while others looked like they¡¯d expected this outcome. But there was one person¡¯s whose reaction interested him the most. Rowan locked eyes with the mage advisor of Litwick, and what he saw there made his heart race in excitement. Well, he certainly looks impressed, alright. With his performance here today, Rowan had no doubt that the Crimson Grove would have their pick of assignments. Chapter 38 - Upcoming Meeting Killian walked up to Rowan, dusting off his clothes. ¡°Well, that was fun,¡± he said with a smile that didn¡¯t quite reach his face, glancing at the spear in Rowan¡¯s hands. ¡°Sure as hell didn¡¯t expect you to keep that many active spells up at the same time, I¡¯ll tell you that,¡± he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°Could I, you know¡­ have that back now?¡± Rowan arched an eyebrow, looking over the finely crafted weapon.
Name: Ironhorn Spear
Grade: Rare
Enchantments: [Sharpness], [Durability]
Should I just give it back? he thought to himself, testing the weight. Considering the upcoming goblin raid, it was probably the right thing to do. But then again, Killian had been kind of an asshole from the moment they met, and Rowan had no squabbles about being a sore winner. ¡°It is a nice spear,¡± he said, running a hand along its worn shaft. ¡°Finely crafted, well kept.¡± Killian¡¯s eye twitched. ¡°Yeah, it is.¡± ¡°You know, I might be persuaded to give it back. For the right price, of course,¡± Rowan tapped his chin. ¡°A thousand gold should do it.¡± ¡°You¡¯re fucking with me, right?¡± Killian said, his voice disbelieving. ¡°You can¡¯t just steal my weapon during a duel!¡± his eyes moved to where the Guildmistress sat, watching the interaction with a disinterested expression. Killian looked like he was hoping for some help, but Quinea casually waved him off, returning to her conversation with Tremil. Gritting his teeth, Killian glanced where his team sat. ¡°Misk!¡± he shouted. ¡°Get over here, you little shit!¡± The wiry-looking adventurer quickly made his way towards them, fidgeting the whole way. ¡°Yes, boss?¡± he asked, risking a quick glance at Rowan, hastily looking away. ¡°Just shut up and give me the gold,¡± Killian said, taking two gold pouches and throwing them at Rowan. ¡°There, can I have my spear back now?¡± Rowan shrugged, storing the gold and returning the weapon. ¡°Pleasure doing business with you.¡± Killian sighed. ¡°Yeah, sure,¡± he slung the spear over his back. ¡°No hard feelings?¡± he asked, offering a hand. Rowan thought about it for a moment before shaking it. ¡°Sure, no hard feelings,¡± he nodded. ¡°But if you want a word of advice, try to be less of an asshole. It¡¯ll make your life easier, trust me.¡± Killian snorted. ¡°Duly noted.¡± And with that, both him and Misk walked away, neither of them looking all that happy. Quinea stood up, clapping loudly to grab everyone''s attention. ¡°Alright, this duel is over,¡± she said casually, standing up and gesturing for the Silver-ranks. ¡°You lot, follow me.¡± The adventurers in the stands took that as their cue to start moving back to the Hall. The atmosphere was rowdy, and Rowan was sure it would be a long night for many of them. Silvia was the first to reach him, and she clapped him on the back, hard. ¡°Ha!¡± she beamed. ¡°Never doubted you for a second.¡± The rest of the Grove wasn¡¯t far behind. What followed was a smattering of ¡®congratulations¡¯ and ¡®I told you so¡¯s¡¯, and Omi even pulled out a large pouch filled with gold. ¡°Good odds,¡± he shrugged at Rowan¡¯s unspoken question, a wry smile tugging at his lips. ¡°At least we know who¡¯s buying,¡± Annie said, clapping Omi on the back. Rowan snorted a laugh. ¡°And here I thought you were cheering because I won.¡± ¡°That definitely added to it,¡± Omi nodded, securing the pouch to his belt. ¡°But I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll be getting those drinks quite yet,¡± he said, pointing toward the group of approaching Silver-ranks, Quinea and Tremil at the front. There were more than a dozen deadly looking men and women walking towards them, all of them outfitted in quality looking gear, giving off an air of confidence. Rowan scanned a few, finding himself pleasantly surprised.
Level: 30
Body: Silver V [30 Levels]
Core: N/A
Level: 30
Body: Silver V [30 Levels]
Core: N/A
Level: 30
Body: Silver V [30 Levels]
Core: N/A
There were three people on the cusp of Gold. And while that didn¡¯t tell him much seeing as it could take years to advance depending on how long they were at that rank, it was nice to finally meet the strongest adventures in Litwick. The first was a lithe-looking rogue. She wore leather armor dyed in a pattern of muted greens and browns, the kind of colors that would hide her in the Wilds. Two dangerous-looking daggers were strapped to her thighs, and she moved with deliberate steps. Beside her walked an archer, a dark cloak wrapped around his tall frame. There was a finely crafted bow resting across his back, the polished wood gleaming faintly in the light of the yard. His movements were slow, like someone who spent most of his time waiting for the perfect moment to act.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. The third figure carried herself with quiet authority, clad in steel plate, a sword at her side and a shield across her back. She stood as solid as a fortress, and Rowan couldn¡¯t help but be reminded of Nemir. But those three weren¡¯t the only people here. They weren¡¯t even the strongest people in the room. That honor went to either the Gold-rank that gestured for them to follow, or the robed figure standing next to her. She was guiding them away from the crowd, towards a gate that led to a closed off section of the yard. Tremil caught his eye. He said something to the Guildmistress and she nodded, gesturing vaguely in their direction. ¡°Seems like you¡¯re about to have an interesting conversation,¡± Nemir said, pointing out the approaching Yellow-Core mage. Rowan nodded, his excitement mingling with nervousness. Tremil was the highest-ranked mage in the city, and one of few Yellow-Cores in the region. Talking to him was something Rowan had wanted to do for a while, but he¡¯d never quite had the chance, or a reason to do it. Kai hopped off Zoe¡¯s shoulder, landing on Rowan¡¯s and pecking at his hair. ¡°Hey, stop that,¡± he muttered, pushing his beak away. ¡°I¡¯m trying to look presentable.¡± Annie snorted. ¡°A bit late for that.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll save you a seat,¡± Nemir said, herding the team after Quinea and the rest of the adventurers, giving Rowan some privacy. Nemir looked at Tremil and the two other mages approaching, scanning them.
Level: 60
Body: Iron V [15 Levels]
Core: Yellow [45 Levels]
Level: 22
Body: Bronze II [2 Levels]
Core: Orange [20 Levels]
Level: 23
Body: Bronze III [3 Levels]
Core: Orange [20 Levels]
Those are probably his apprentices, Rowan thought, taking in the two boys, seemingly twins who looked a few years younger than him. Having twenty levels from their Core meant they were halfway to Yellow. But it would be more correct to say halfway to being able to attempt it. Creating a tier-two affinity wasn¡¯t a simple process. It required preparation and study, not something most attempted haphazardly. Tremil stepped forward, an amicable smile on his face as he extended a hand. ¡°That was a marvelous showing,¡± he said, shaking Rowan¡¯s hand. ¡°To hold that many active casts together? And to do it during a fight as well?¡± he shook his head, admiration clear in his tone. ¡°Spectacular.¡± Rowan tried not to let his ego swell too much, but he couldn¡¯t deny that having someone acknowledge what he¡¯d done felt good. ¡°Thank you,¡± he said with a genuine smile. ¡°It was many hours of work.¡± Tremil nodded, looking at Rowan with a thoughtful expression. ¡°Yes, you are older than most,¡± he said slowly. ¡°But no matter. You have shown your talent, and it seems you have it in spades,¡± he gestured at the twins. ¡°These are my apprentices. Huon and Tion Greenstride.¡± When they said nothing, Tremil frowned. ¡°Boys, you are being impolite. Greet the man.¡± The one on the left snorted. ¡°We have ten levels on him. He should be the one greeting us.¡± Tremil smacked the boy upside the head, ¡°And how many [Burning Whip]¡¯s can you hold at a time?¡± he asked. ¡°Have you even managed three?¡± Tremil shook his head. ¡°Levels mean nothing. This man has mastered his affinity to a degree you two haven¡¯t. So you will say hello, or I will have you meditating for the next week.¡± Now that¡¯s a punishment if I¡¯ve ever heard one, Rowan thought, trying to suppress a smile. ¡°A single sharpened stick is better than two dull daggers, remember that,¡± Tremil added, crossing his arms. The boy winced, taking the chastisement. The one that didn¡¯t get smacked stepped forward, bowing his head slightly. ¡°Hello, my name is Tion Greenstride, Novice mage under Master Tremil. Please forgive my brother. He speaks more than he should and more than we¡¯d like. He meant no offense.¡± Huon glared at his brother, but smartly decided to stay quiet. After a moment he sighed, nodding his head towards Rowan. ¡°Pleasure to meet you,¡± he muttered. ¡°I¡¯m Huon Greenstride. Same thing my brother said.¡± Rowan arched an eyebrow, his lips quirking upward. ¡°Jamis.¡± Huon frowned. ¡°Just Jamis?¡± ¡°Yup,¡± he nodded. ¡°Just Jamis.¡± Rowan understood what the boy was asking, but he had no intention of answering that particular question. Huon¡ªrightfully so¡ªthought Rowan belonged to a noble House. Skilled mages rarely appeared without access to resources and tutoring. Something that nobles had in spades. And it wasn¡¯t that much of a reach to assume Rowan belonged to one House or another. The truth wasn¡¯t something most people would even believe. Him being the last member of a Great House, a Duke, and the heir to Eiseylth hopefully wasn¡¯t in the realm of possibilities. But Rowan understood why the boy was skeptical of him. His age would raise questions anywhere he went. At least until his advancement caught up to his skills. Progressing a Core to the peak of Orange wasn¡¯t a difficult endeavor. The only thing it required was time and effort. And the only reason a mage wouldn¡¯t manage it would be if he was lazy. I can¡¯t exactly mention I¡¯ve only been at it for a few months. That¡¯s a can of worms I¡¯d rather keep sealed. It looked like Huon wanted to ask more, but Tremil interjected. ¡°Don¡¯t pry into other people¡¯s wells,¡± he said, wagging a finger at his apprentice. ¡°It¡¯s rude, and could get your brain boiled.¡± Then he turned his attention back towards Rowan, his brows furrowed in thought. ¡°I couldn¡¯t help but notice your Wind magic was quite rudimentary compared to your flames,¡± he said, reaching into his robe and pulling out a card. ¡°I take it you¡¯ve been apprised of what¡¯s coming?¡± he asked, looking at Rowan with a knowing expression. ¡°I have,¡± he said, pulling out an identical card. ¡°The Guildmistress already told me to go and see you. I was planning on reaching out after this duel.¡± Tremil smiled. ¡°Good. I would offer you some advice when it comes to mastering Wind, if you wish to hear it. It is a wily affinity, one much different than the Fire you seem so used to.¡± Rowan nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll gladly take you up on that offer. It hasn¡¯t been that long since I¡¯ve advanced, and I haven¡¯t managed to devote nearly as much time as I would have liked to mastering it.¡± Tremil was an Ice mage, which was a tier two affinity created by combining Wind and Water. If there was anyone in the city capable of showing Rowan a few tricks, it would be him. ¡°Wind is capable of powerful magic,¡± Tremil said, an eager glint in his eyes.¡±I would be more than willing to impart some knowledge before we set out on this endeavor. When you find the time, feel free to visit me.¡± Rowan would probably spend a few days working on his magic by himself before doing that. Currently, he only had a single Whisper-level Wind spell mastered, and he didn¡¯t want to waste a lesson on something he¡¯d be able to learn by himself. They talked for a few more minutes, and while Huon obviously wasn¡¯t thrilled, his brother seemed nice enough. The boys were the youngest sons of House Greenstride, a minor family hailing from the north of the Verdant Plains. They were in Litwick studying under mage Tremil as a favor for their father, Baron Remil, a Mythril-ranked warrior and former teammate of the mage advisor. ¡°Well, we should probably join the others,¡± Rowan said as the conversation died down, gesturing toward where the rest of the Silver-ranks had gone. ¡°The Guildmistress doesn''t seem like the type of woman you keep waiting.¡± Tremil laughed. ¡°Quite right.¡± They left the yard and entered a long hallway, the low murmur of adventurers reaching their ears. If Rowan was right, Quinea was about to reveal what her plans were for the upcoming goblin raid, and he could only hope his performance had been enough to impress her. Chapter 39 - Your Duty The muffled buzz of conversation grew louder as Rowan, Tremil, and the Greenstride twins entered the Guild¡¯s main auditorium. The room was spacious but dimly lit, with rows of wooden benches rising in tiers toward the back. A massive crest of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild¡ªtwo swords crossed against a pair of wings¡ªwas carved into the stone wall behind the stage, giving the space an air of authority. Quinea stood at the front, leaning casually against a lectern. Her sharp eyes swept over the assembled Silver-ranks, and her mere presence kept the chatter at a polite volume. A map of the region was displayed on a canvas to her left, with settlements and points of interest marked with pins. ¡°I will take my place with the others,¡± Tremil said, turning to Rowan as they entered. ¡°It was a pleasure speaking with you, mage Jamis. And I do hope to see you again soon.¡± He gestured for the twins to follow and made his way to the front. The mage advisor moved with a quiet confidence, nodding to adventurers as he passed. His apprentices trailed behind him, Huon looking sullen while Tion offered polite smiles. Rowan took a moment to scan the room. The Crimson Grove had claimed a row near the top, and Annie waved him over. ¡°About time,¡± she said as Rowan slid into a seat next to her. ¡°We started getting worried he¡¯d steal you away from us.¡± Rowan chuckled. ¡°He can¡¯t afford me.¡± ¡°Damn straight,¡± Silvia added, running her hand along the curve of her new bow, practically petting it. ¡°You know, I never expected being rich to be so fun.¡± Rowan arched an eyebrow. ¡°And since when are you rich?¡± he asked, a smile tugging at his lips. Silvia reached back and pulled out a coin pouch, one that looked suspiciously like those Rowan had in the Vault. She grinned. ¡°Ever since I found three of these in my room.¡± Omi nodded, pulling out one as well. ¡°Same. But mine only had two.¡± Rowan laughed. He¡¯d stashed those around the house and completely forgotten about them. Having gold on hand was useful in a city like Litwick, and it had seemed like a good idea at the time. ¡°Consider it a performance bonus,¡± he shrugged. Gold wasn¡¯t really something that concerned him all that much. The Vault held enough of it to build a castle with just the coins, and while it certainly had its uses, those dropped off dramatically at higher levels of power. It was the currency of the common man, one that quickly got replaced by favors and unique items the further along you went on your Path. Omi frowned. ¡°Then why does she get more?¡± ¡°Why do you think?¡± Silvia beamed. ¡°I¡¯m an asset,¡± she hooked the pouch back on her belt. ¡°You¡¯re just¡­ sneaky. Honestly, you should probably give me one of yours so it¡¯s fair.¡± Annie snorted. ¡°Please. You two drunks should be on probation.¡± Silvia pointed an accusatory finger at Rowan. ¡°That was completely his fault.¡± Rowan raised his hands. ¡°Whoa, what¡¯d I do?¡± ¡°You made us think we were celebrating! How was I supposed to know that we weren¡¯t allowed to have a good time,¡± she crossed her arms, tilting her head up. ¡°Annie¡¯s right. You are a schemer.¡± Rowan shook his head. ¡°Alright,¡± he conceded. ¡°I¡¯ll take like, half the blame.¡± Silvia nodded, ¡°So out of everyone, you¡¯re the most at fault. No probation for us.¡± ¡°And where¡¯s our gold?¡± Annie added, gesturing to Nemir. ¡°No performance bonus for us?¡± Rowan squinted at her. ¡°Are you trying to extort me?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± she said shamelessly. ¡°I¡¯ve been eyeing a skill book for [Spear Mastery]. It should help me gain Insight and hopefully speed up advancing it to Expert.¡± He nodded, thinking for a moment. ¡°There should be a few more in the dining room¡ªin one of the cabinets.¡± ¡°Nope,¡± Omi said, carefully tracing the edge of his blade. ¡°I checked there. Someone already took them,¡± he said, glancing at Silvia. ¡°I wonder who could have done that?¡± ¡°I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about,¡± she said as she reached into her vest and pulled out a beast pellet. Kai didn¡¯t hesitate, hopping over and picking it up with his beak. He threw it into the air, swallowing it down with a quick bite. Sil fed him another, and Rowan¡¯s familiar settled on her shoulder. ¡°See?¡± she pointed out. ¡°Kai agrees.¡± His familiar nuzzled against her cheek. Rowan sighed. ¡°Still trying to bribe away my familiar?¡± Silvia gently scratched Kai¡¯s beak, eliciting a small trill. ¡°Once again, I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about.¡± She pulled out another pellet and fed it to the gluttonous raven. Rowan could have pulled out a pellet that was better, but he decided to let her have this one. The ones offered in the second chamber of the Vault were still Rare¡ªthe same as the first¡ªbut there was still a difference between them. To create Epic-rarity beast pellets you needed to use high Silver¡ªor low Gold¡ªlevel ingredients. And those weren¡¯t suitable for a beast of Kai¡¯s level. The Vault was sectioned off for exactly that reason. Legendary and above ranked items were certainly powerful, but the most likely outcome of him having access to those wasn¡¯t good. Unlocking the third chamber would require Rowan working on his Core, something he wouldn¡¯t be doing until after the goblins were dealt with. A week wasn¡¯t a long time, and he¡¯d much rather spend it mastering a few Wind spells than advancing his Core by five percent. Rowan turned to Annie. ¡°I¡¯ll stash a few in the living room. Take as much as you need.¡± A smile tugged at her lips. ¡°Thanks. I¡¯ll make good use of it.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not just rich, are you?¡± Omi added casually. ¡°You¡¯re wealthy. I mean, who has pouches filled with that much gold just lying around the house?¡± He looked around at the group. ¡°Tell me I¡¯m not crazy?¡± ¡°Super weird,¡± Annie nodded. ¡°But hey, I certainly don¡¯t mind.¡± Rowan laughed, shaking his head. He hadn¡¯t told them everything about who he was, but the parts he did share made everything so much easier. They knew he was a noble. Most likely from a particularly wealthy House, and they didn¡¯t mind. They didn¡¯t try to pry, and it wasn¡¯t at the forefront of their minds every time they talked with him.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Rowan nodded. ¡°You could say that,¡± he said with a smile. ¡°But if I¡¯m going to be team treasurer, we should probably work out a better arrangement than leaving treasure around the house for you to find.¡± ¡°I feel left out,¡± Zoe said, sitting next to Silvia. Rowan glanced at the healer. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I can¡ª¡± Before he could finish, she fished out a pellet of her own. Only this one was shining with a soft golden glow. Kai¡¯s head snapped toward it, and he immediately moved to Zoe¡¯s shoulder. She carefully fed the seemingly empowered treat to the raven, who savoured it in his mouth before gently swallowing. Rowan stared at the scene, honestly questioning if his familiar¡¯s loyalties had just been turned. Zoe¡¯s lips quirked slightly upward, and she started gently petting his feathers. ¡°I don¡¯t think she was talking about the gold,¡± Annie snorted, pulling out a booklet and starting to read. Silvia sighed. ¡°I feel like that should be considered cheating.¡± Kai glanced at her, tilting his beak up dismissively. ¡°I don¡¯t think he agrees,¡± Nemir chuckled. ¡°Be careful Sil, you¡¯re losing your support.¡± Rowan leaned back in his chair, feeling better than he had in a long time. Having people around him who he trusted made everything so much easier, and he was glad to have found these five. Zoe was a peculiar case, but if she was given a vision by Eldara, Rowan wasn¡¯t going to question it. Gods rarely did things for no reason, and he¡¯d gladly accept the help. Especially if it meant having a healer of her skill around. That should help with the whole not dying thing. He¡¯d expected the vision of his supposed death to weigh on him, but surprisingly, Rowan barely thought about it. No matter how powerful, Gods couldn¡¯t predict the future. They could make assumptions, guesses of likely events, but that was it. Only Eldric, the God of Fate, had any semblance of Dominion over that aspect of reality. And even his followers didn¡¯t perform prophecies. The only thing Rowan could do about Zoe¡¯s vision was to grow stronger and try to prevent it from happening. Something he would have done either way, so stressing about it didn¡¯t make all that much sense. [Iron Will] certainly helped too, but Rowan felt he would have been fine even without it. Whatever Zoe fed to Kai must have been good, because his familiar curled up around her shoulders, dozing off. Him growing stronger was always a good thing, and Rowan didn¡¯t actually mind the pampering. ¡°Betrayal stings, doesn''t it?¡± Silvia asked, looking at him with a disappointed expression. Before he could reply, Quinea clapped her hands. ¡°Alright, settle down,¡± she called out, her sharp voice cutting through the growing murmur. The room quieted almost instantly, the weight of her authority palpable. ¡°We¡¯ve got a lot to cover, and I don¡¯t have time to coddle you. So pay attention.¡± She gestured to the map beside her. ¡°I¡¯m going to assume all of you know what this meeting is about,¡± she said, pointing to a spot east of the city. ¡°The tribe is moving faster than we¡¯d hoped, and my scouts confirmed they¡¯re already gathering near the Forest of Dagrun. Their Warchief is already there, so it¡¯s just a matter before the rest of their numbers arrive.¡± ¡°How many are we talking about?¡± the peak Silver-rank rogue asked. ¡°We¡¯ve taken out more than a dozen packs already. That has to have put a dent in them.¡± Quinea shook her head. ¡°Right now, we¡¯re talking about more than a hundred hobgoblins¡ªand at least five times as many of the lesser variants. Not to mention a cohort of shamanas, a Warlock, and the Warchief himself.¡± A tense silence fell over the room. This was no minor threat, and all of them knew it. ¡°From my reports, only half of the completed quests involved a hobgoblin. And only two had to deal with a shaman,¡± her eyes flickered to Rowan and then to the blade wielder sitting next to the rogue. ¡°Those packs were roaming in search of where the tribe settled. And there¡¯s many more of them out there.¡± ¡°Have we called for support?¡± a weary looking warrior called out. ¡°If there¡¯s that many of them, and more on the way, this isn¡¯t a problem we can deal with on our own,¡± he looked around the room. ¡°There¡¯s what, thirty Silver-ranks in Litwick? Maybe forty? The hobgoblins alone are enough to bury us.¡± ¡°Speak for yourself,¡± a cocky adventurer snorted. ¡°I don¡¯t know about the rest of you, but taking out three hobgoblins doesn''t sound all that hard,¡± he shrugged. ¡°But I guess we all have our limits.¡± The first adventurer scowled, ready to say something more but Quinea silenced them both. ¡°We have,¡± she said firmly. The warrior sat back in his chair, looking satisfied, but what Quinea said next burst his bubble. ¡°Sheercliff is sending a team of Silver-ranks and two mages. They should be arriving in under a week.¡± ¡°What?¡± he asked, sounding alarmed. ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± ¡°We¡¯re not the only city dealing with a surge,¡± Quinea replied. ¡°Harpies are moving into the mountains surrounding Tumbleton, there¡¯s Ashen Wolf packs roaming the Wilds surrounding Whitehelm, and Sheercliff is dealing with a Stalker infestation,¡± her intent gaze moved across the room, taking everyone in. ¡°This is our problem to deal with,¡± she finally said. ¡°And that¡¯s exactly what we¡¯re going to do.¡± Rowan found himself nodding along. If a settlement wanted any chance of persisting, they needed to be able to protect themselves on their own. The Kingdom of Vandral was vast, with cities being days apart, separated by the Wilds¡ªand that was just in the same region. If Rowan wanted to walk to Eiseylth, that could take him years. The goblin tribe was theirs to deal with. The few reinforcements that arrived would be all the help they¡¯d get. ¡°So, what¡¯s our plan?¡± the blade wielder sitting next to the rogue asked, her voice strangely loud. ¡°If what you say is true, we should be leaving tonight,¡± she said firmly. ¡°The longer we wait, the more of them we¡¯ll have to deal with. Why allow them to gather?¡± ¡°Because if we leave now, we¡¯ll be going with a dozen less Silver-ranks and two less mages,¡± Quinea answered calmly. ¡°Mage Tremil and I can occupy their two heavy hitters, and the Iron-ranks shouldn¡¯t have a problem with the lesser variants,¡± her gaze swept across the room. ¡°But the hobgoblins are another matter entirely.¡± Rowan sighed. He understood her point. The adventurers in this room were stronger than all but the highest leveled hobgoblins, but if there were hundreds of them, dealing with them wouldn¡¯t be an easy task. The group of Silver-ranks coming from Sheercliff would put the number of warriors with Auras on their side to somewhere over fifty. They would still be outnumbered, but the situation was much more manageable¡ªnot to mention that the two mages would almost double their number of casters. In all, there were seven mages in Litwick¡ªincluding Tremil¡ªbut since he would be fighting the Warlock, it would be up to the eight of them to contend with the cohort of shamans. Those rarely numbered over a dozen, so not an impossible task. ¡°We¡¯ll spend the next week going over how we plan on dealing with them, but for now, I want you to go to your teams and spread the word,¡± Quinea said, straightening up from the lectern. ¡°Can we still go on quests in the meantime?¡± a middle-aged man asked, an axe strapped to his hip. ¡°A week is a long time to be idling around,¡± he rubbed his fingers together. ¡°What¡¯s in it for us?¡± Quinea arched an eyebrow. ¡°Your continued existence? Is that not enough for you?¡± When the man didn¡¯t budge, she rolled her eyes. ¡°The coin is going to be deposited into your accounts by the end of the day. It¡¯s considered a Gold-ranked quest, with rewards depending on your contributions. And no. There aren¡¯t going to be any new quests posted until we deal with this.¡± Quinea stepped off the stage. ¡°You want to get paid?¡± she asked, looking down at the suddenly not-so-confident adventurer. ¡°I¡­ yes?¡± ¡°Then when the time comes, do your duty and defend this city from being razed to the ground.¡± He gulped, nodding firmly. ¡°Yes, Guildmistress.¡± She looked around the room, her presence a physical weight. ¡°This won¡¯t be an easy fight,¡± she began. ¡°We¡¯ll be attacking a possibly fortified position while outnumbered.¡± Rowan watched as her words rippled out, but instead of fear and hesitation, he saw excitement in the eyes of most of the adventurers here. He felt it too. Like a low humming in the back of his mind. A drumming he could have snuffed out, but instead, Rowan let it build. A leadership skill, he thought. And a strong one too. These people trusted the woman speaking to them. They knew she wasn¡¯t leading them to their deaths, that she had confidence this was a fight they could win. Rowan wasn¡¯t sure if it was an Expert-level skill like [Duke¡¯s Command], but Quinea¡¯s authority as a Guildmistress was undeniable. ¡°And it still won¡¯t be enough to stop us,¡± she continued, her voice filled with conviction. ¡°We¡¯re going to batter down their walls, destroy what they¡¯ve built, exterminate them as a threat to Litwick and to the people who call it home.¡± A cheer went out, and Rowan found himself joining in. The same as the rest of his team. She was right. When they came for the goblins, they wouldn¡¯t know what hit them. This fight would be the most dangerous he¡¯d ever been in. It would involve monsters that had a real shot at killing him, and the people he cared about. That was a fate Rowan had no desire to see come to fruition. There was only one thing he could do to try and avoid it. The same thing he¡¯d been doing till now. He needed to get stronger. And thankfully for him, Rowan knew exactly how to accomplish that. It¡¯s time to learn some new spells, he thought, an excited smile on his face. Chapter 40 - Pondering Rowan sat under the tall oak in the backyard, four spell tomes opened in front of him. The late morning sun filtered through the branches above, illuminating the worn pages. It was a peaceful scene¡ªan almost surreal contrast to the weight pressing on his shoulders. It took most mages weeks to memorize, practice, and eventually master even a Murmur-level spell. Magic wasn¡¯t something one did halfheartedly. It was an art. A craft they spent their entire lives perfecting. But Rowan wasn¡¯t just any mage. Before they left on their expedition, he planned on learning at least three. He picked up the first tome, its leather worn smooth with age. [Whisper Step], Murmur-level. A small but noteworthy spell, granting the user swift and quiet movement. This spell lightly lifts the caster¡¯s feet, reducing the friction between them and the ground. Though often overlooked as a combat spell, [Whisper Step] is useful for avoiding unceremonious deaths on the battlefield. Rowan¡¯s lips quirked upward. It was exactly what he needed, a spell to complement his speed and help him avoid getting injured. Wind spells weren¡¯t about raw destruction like Fire, they were about precision, utility, and control. Which was exactly why Rowan had picked Wind as his second affinity. Fire was the sword he fought with, and Wind would be the shield he¡¯d use to guard against harm. He set the tome aside and reached for the next one, a slightly thicker volume with faded gold lettering. [Feather Fall], Murmur-level. A humble lifesaver, converting a deadly fall into a harmless descent. This simple spell slows a person''s fall, causing them to float gently to the ground. Many novice mages practice this spell extensively, not only for the practicality, but for its grace¡ªthe sensation of weightlessness is an experience like few others. [Feather Fall] wasn¡¯t flashy, and it wasn¡¯t a spell Rowan expected to hopefully use much, but eliminating falling to his death from the list of possibilities of how his life could end was definitely a priority. He¡¯d already memorized the circuit, and all that remained was mastering the Intent. Which, unfortunately, meant jumping from the third story. Again. Rowan sighed and set the book down, his gaze shifting to the third tome, thicker still. [Tailwind], Murmur-level. A spell that bestows the gift of speed, carried by the wind¡¯s favor. When cast, [Tailwind] enhances the movement speed of the caster by a tremendous amount. The effect is akin to running with a strong wind at your back, one that molds itself to your movements, making every step faster and lighter. It is useful in battles when quick repositioning is key. Though beware, the sudden increase in speed can prove disorienting. Below was a portion written in another¡¯s handwriting. Note. You¡¯d think combining it with [Whisper Step] would be a good idea. It isn¡¯t. ¡ª Ilio Kalan-Athlain Rowan didn¡¯t know who Ilio was, but the tomes in the Vault had been in use for generations. Nevertheless, he appreciated his ancestors'' warning. Which didn¡¯t mean that he wouldn¡¯t try it when he mastered both, just that he¡¯d be more careful when doing it. Rowan tapped the page thoughtfully. [Tailwind] would elevate his mobility to the next level. Combined with his high Dexterity, the boost in speed would make him almost impossible to pin down. It wasn¡¯t hard to imagine how useful that would be during a fight, but the fourth tome was a tantalizing alternative. [Soar], Murmur-level. The dream of flight, if only for a moment. The spell allows the caster to ride the wind, propelling them into the air a short distance. [Soar] provides limited flight, useful for avoiding ground-based attacks, leaping over obstacles, or repositioning during combat. While it isn¡¯t capable of carrying the caster far, it is invaluable for a mage caught in close quarters or needing a quick escape. Note. Be careful when combining it with [Feather Fall]. It¡¯ll make you go further, but also make you an easier target. Flying was a dream Rowan had since he was a boy, listening to tales of mages soaring through the sky on wings of magic. True flight wasn¡¯t something he¡¯d be able to do anytime soon, but that didn¡¯t mean he couldn¡¯t mimic it. If only for a moment. Rowan imagined himself gliding above the battlefield, wind whipping through his hair. Enemies from below wouldn¡¯t be able to touch him, while he could rain down spells from above. But practicality won out. Mages could still hit him, and against someone like Silvia that spell would actually be detrimental. ¡°Speed first,¡± he muttered. ¡°Flight later.¡± There were offensive spells Rowan thought about learning: [Air Blade], [Cyclone], and [Wind Shear], just to name a few. All of them were powerful¡ªand certainly useful, but they just weren¡¯t what he needed right now. Setting aside the tome, Rowan closed his eyes. It took him barely a moment to shift his perception into the Vault. As he did, a strange pressure pressed against his mind. Then, a heartbeat later, it was gone. Like it hadn¡¯t even been there. Rowan opened his eyes, standing in front of a bookshelf in the Vault¡¯s second chamber.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. He placed [Feather Fall], [Tailwind], and [Soar] back from where he took them, then stepped back and looked around. There was a bookshelf for each affinity, the same as in the first Chamber. Only instead of having a single Chant-level spell per affinity, there were five of them. He¡¯d hoped for at least one Hymn, but it seemed Rowan would have to advance his Core again for access to those. Still, having ten Chant¡¯s to learn would take Rowan a while. A task he was eager to get started. He ran his fingers across the spines, reading the titles aloud. ¡°[Sonic Boom], [Air Dash], [Wind Spear], [Zephyr Armor], and [Vortex].¡± He pulled out [Wind Spear], flipping through its pages and admiring the complexity of its mana circuit. It was beautiful, intricate, and leagues beyond what he was currently capable of casting. Even memorizing it would be a task, and there were no Wind vents to help him along this time. Rowan would have to do it with his own mana, meditating in between attempts. [Iron Will] made that much easier to stomach than before, and with his trait letting him consume potions on top of that, Rowan should be able to master one in around a month. The first one was always the toughest, but he¡¯d broken through that bottleneck with [Fireball]. Rowan carefully set the tome back, turning his gaze to the four new Fire spells. [Wildfire], [Inferno Burst], [Molten Sphere], and [Blazing Chains] were the ones his family decided to offer Orange-Core mages, and Rowan saw why. If he mastered all four of those, he doubted even mages with a tier-two affinity could take him lightly. [Wildfire] and [Inferno Burst] would be the ones he started with. [Blazing Chains] was an enhanced version of [Fire Whip], and [Molten Sphere] was a defensive version of [Fireball], so it seemed like a waste to learn them first. Taking out the tomes for those two spells, Rowan quickly glanced at the descriptions. [Wildfire], Chant-level. A spell that unleashes uncontrollable flames, spreading across the battlefield and engulfing everything in its path. With this spell, the caster ignites the ground around them, creating a rapidly spreading fire that consumes everything it touches. The flames are fierce and relentless, growing in intensity as they move outward. Anything flammable caught in the fire is swiftly reduced to ash, and even stone is scorched by the heat. [Wildfire] is the perfect spell for area denial, forcing enemies to flee or risk being engulfed in the blaze. Beware, while the uncontrollable nature of the spell makes it powerful, it also makes it extremely dangerous. The flames spread indiscriminately, and if left unchecked, they can become as much threat to allies as to enemies. Note. Do not cast this in a forest. It was a spell for when things looked especially bad. Surrounded by enemies and with no care about the fallout. There was no precision to it, just a wave of destruction. But sometimes, that was exactly what you needed. [Inferno Burst], Chant-level. A devastating explosion of flames, centered around the caster and designed to clear the immediate area of foes. Upon casting, the spell releases a violent and devastating explosion of fire, radiating outward from the caster in all directions. The blast knocks back enemies and deals severe damage to those caught in its radius. This spell is particularly useful in close-quarters fighting or when surrounded. Exercise caution when in close proximity to your allies, like all Fire spells of this level, control is paramount. Note. Trying to force the explosion into a single direction is foolish. It¡¯ll end with you in the center of what amounts to a destabilized [Fireball]. If you want an enhanced [Flame Vent], then enhance [Flame Vent]. It was similar to [Wildfire], but [Inferno Burst] had a way to toggle the amount of mana you imbued into it, exchanging firepower for control. Rowan shook his head, closing the tomes and withdrawing his perception from the Vault. He¡¯d been spending more time inside of it as of late. Getting acquainted with all the new items it now offered. If he ever needed to pull something out in a hurry, knowing it was there in the first place was a must. His gaze drifted across the backyard, where Annie was practicing with her spear. Sweat dripped down her brow as she moved through the forms of [Wind Dance], her spear slicing through the air with precision. She¡¯d been at it for hours, and her determination hadn¡¯t faltered for even a moment. Annie was talented, and relentless, so Rowan had no doubt she¡¯d master the technique by the time they left on the expedition. The enchantment on her spear glowed faintly, guiding her movements through the intricate steps, her body coiling like a string before lunging. Rowan watched her train, resting his back against the bark and pulling out a canteen. He¡¯d been practicing for hours, a ten minute break wouldn¡¯t hurt. She finished a few moments later, swinging the spear around her neck and into her other palm, slamming the butt into the ground. Taking a deep breath, she relaxed, turning to look at him. ¡°I¡¯m so close,¡± she said, walking towards him and tying her hair back, sweat glistening on her skin. Despite her exhaustion, her eyes were bright with energy. ¡°If I get it today, I might actually have time to work on advancing to Iron IV before we leave.¡± She sat down next to him, snatching the canteen out of his hand. ¡°You?¡± she asked, a smile tugging at her lips. ¡°How¡¯s your pondering going?¡± Rowan snorted. ¡°Good. I¡¯m thinking big thoughts.¡± She uncorked it, taking a big swig, wiping the sweat from her brow. ¡°Honestly, I expected something more when you said you¡¯d be learning spells,¡± she shook her head. ¡°You mages have it so easy. Us warriors have to toil away under the sun while you relax in the shade. How¡¯s that fair?¡± Rowan chuckled. ¡°You do know I¡¯m actually doing something, right? Not to brag, but it¡¯s super impressive.¡± Annie laughed, setting her spear on the ground. ¡°I¡¯ll take your word for it.¡± They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, and Rowan¡¯s eyes moved to a window on the second floor. ¡°You think he¡¯ll manage it?¡± Nemir hadn¡¯t left his room today, and if Rowan¡¯s guess was correct, that would be a common occurrence until the expedition. He was on the cusp of advancing to Silver and acquiring an Aura. Something that would allow him to contend with the opponents they¡¯d be facing. Rowan had seen the fire in his eyes after Quinea¡¯s speech. Out of all of them, Nemir was the hungriest for that next step. He¡¯d been stuck at Iron V ever since Rowan met him¡ªand likely longer. Although stuck wasn¡¯t exactly the correct term. He¡¯d been making progress every day, and after the fight in the cavern, Nemir was closer than ever. But the last step was the hardest, and all Rowan could do was hope his friend managed it. Annie shook her head. ¡°No, but he¡¯s not trying to either.¡± She pulled out a small whetstone from her breast pocket and started grinding it against the speartip. ¡°But he¡¯ll definitely manage it during the battle. Meditating a few days before an attempt makes it much more likely to succeed.¡± ¡°Makes sense, ¡° Rowan nodded. ¡°A hobgoblin or two should be enough to sharpen it.¡± ¡°I¡¯m actually surprised he didn¡¯t get it during our quest,¡± Annie said. ¡°I definitely felt something at the end, but he didn¡¯t have a chance to really grab hold of it.¡± Nemir was trying to create an Aura of Might, which would turn his already substantial strength into something even greater. But he needed something to be Mighty against to make that happen. Rowan looked down at the tome in his hand, tracing the leather binding. ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll manage it. Nemir¡¯s talented, and he¡¯s definitely had training.¡± Annie arched an eyebrow. ¡°Training? Is that what we¡¯re calling it?¡± she squinted at him. ¡°Are you trying to gossip?¡± He laughed, shaking his head. ¡°Thanks, but no. That¡¯s not a well I want to go down into.¡± ¡°Shame,¡± She shrugged. ¡°Omi, Sil, and me have a betting pool going about which House he¡¯s from.¡± ¡°Just the one?¡± Rowan asked, his lips quirking upward. ¡°Of course,¡± she answered immediately. ¡°On a totally unrelated note, would you say you prefer the sea or the snow?¡± Rowan snorted. ¡°I prefer peaceful meadows where I can work on my spells without being interrupted by a sweaty redhead.¡± Annie grinned. ¡°Well, too bad,¡± she stood up, bracing the spear against her shoulder. ¡°Just make sure I¡¯m here if you¡¯re planning on throwing yourself off the roof again,¡± she shook her head, muttering, ¡°Can¡¯t believe I missed that,¡± as she walked away. Rowan chuckled, turning his focus back to the tome. Silvia and Omi were at the Guild, having left early in the morning to practice with their new equipment. They didn¡¯t have techniques to master, so they instead focused on sparring against other adventurers. And with the news of the upcoming expedition spreading, they weren¡¯t the only ones. Almost all of the Iron-ranks in the city were either training, working on their skills, or trying to advance. They knew what was at stake, and in the next week, everyone had the same mission. To grow as strong as possible. Rowan had spells to master, and he was eager to get that done. [Iron Will] activated as he opened the book, his determination renewed and focus unwavering. Chapter 41 - Creative Falling The spell tome for [Whisper Step] wasn¡¯t all that thick, but lower leveled spells rarely were. What they contained were drawings of the human body, illustrated from the front and the side. That gave two viewpoints so as to accurately represent the path a mage¡¯s mana needed to take. Every single caster had slight differences in their pathways, so not all of them were drawn in. Instead, there was a simple outline of a body, with a black dot in the center representing the Core. The tome was fifty-two pages, meaning there were one hundred and four drawings Rowan needed to memorize. He then needed to match up the two images in order to get the right path, and finally add them all up for the complete circuit. It wasn¡¯t what most considered fun, but Rowan enjoyed it immensely. Sitting here, getting stronger, fiddling with his magic. Like a vacation, he smiled, flipping through the tome. Rowan went over it page by page, only stopping when he reached the last one. He didn¡¯t want to read what was written there. Learning the path your mana needed to take was only the first part to casting a spell, and the easier one at that. What really gave it its power was the Intent imbued into it. The knowledge and comprehension you had over its effect. After hesitating for a moment, Rowan flipped back to the first page, going over the drawings once more. I¡¯ll try to figure it out on my own. And if that doesn''t work, I¡¯ll read what it says. That last page was what made spell tomes truly valuable. It wasn¡¯t so important for these lower leveled spells, but mages aggressively guarded the Intents of anything stronger than a Chant. It amounted to exposing your understanding, making it possible for someone to find a weakness in it. And that could easily lead to an early grave. If you rely on a spell during a fight, and your opponent unexpectedly knows how to counter it, the result usually wasn¡¯t pleasant. Resting his back against the tall oak he¡¯d spent so many hours under, Rowan went about memorizing the circuit. Reading the book from cover to cover, imagining the path his mana would need to take. Over, and over, and over again. . . . It took a few hours before Rowan felt like he¡¯d memorized the tome, the circuit set firmly in his mind. If this were a Fire spell, his next step would have been to go to the Plataeu and find a vent. Then he¡¯d cast as many times as he needed in order to master it. He couldn¡¯t do that for Wind mana. The only source Rowan had access to was in his Core, meaning he had to be conservative. [Iron Will] helped with meditation, but he still didn¡¯t want to waste time doing it. So Rowan did what everyone else did before casting. He practiced threading mana through the correct channels until he got it right. It still cost him a bit of mana to do that, but without an Intent, it was barely noticeable. The process was slow and laborious, requiring him to keep the illustrations clearly visualized in his mind. Without an Intent, there was no feedback if he was doing it correctly, so Rowan needed to stop every few seconds to retrace the path. [Iron Will] showed its worth once again. Giving him the ability to hold both his concentration and the drawings at the front of his thoughts. Without it, Rowan would have needed to consult the tome as he went along, drawing things out even further. After spending a quarter of his reserves, he finally stopped. Rowan stretched, feeling the ache in his back recede. He¡¯d been at it for hours, with the sun now almost below the horizon, draping the backyard in lengthy shadows. He could hear what sounded like Omi and Annie bickering, while Nemir tried to refocus the conversation. Rowan stood up, storing the tome back into the Vault before making his way inside. [Whisper Step]¡¯s circuit wasn¡¯t all that complex, and if he had to guess, he was almost halfway done. It would take him another few hours to finish, but Rowan would do that tomorrow. He had a lot of mana left to spend, and a window to jump through. Entering the living room, the team turned to look at him. Annie was trying to keep a card away from Silvia, with the archer sprawled across the table, grabbing for it. ¡°Gimme, I picked that one.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a bomb, Sil. Trust me, you don¡¯t want it,¡± she tried to bargain, but it wasn¡¯t working. Silvia yanked the card out of her hand, a wide smile appearing on her face as she read it. ¡°Ha!¡± She threw her cards down onto the table. ¡°I win!¡± Annie glared at Omi. ¡°This is your fault. You¡¯re the one who gave her a seven.¡± ¡°Hey, don¡¯t blame me because you suck,¡± he shrugged, taking the cards and reshuffling the deck. ¡°What¡¯s the score?¡± Rowan asked, leaning against the doorframe. ¡°Twelve for Sil, eight for me, and a big old zero for our resident firecracker.¡± Annie¡¯s hand whipped out, yanking the cards from his hand. ¡°I¡¯m shuffling this time,¡± she scowled. ¡°And if you call me that again, I¡¯m going to burn your room down.¡± Annie started dealing out another hand, glancing towards Rowan, ¡°You done for the day?¡± ¡°Please say no,¡± Silvia said, looking at him with a hopeful expression. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen you throw yourself out of one window today!¡± she pointed out. ¡°I¡¯ve been looking forward to it for hours.¡± Rowan snorted. ¡°Well I¡¯m glad you find me entertaining,¡± he shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. ¡°And no, I¡¯m not done,¡± he answered. ¡°It felt like I was really close yesterday, and I¡¯m thinking I¡¯ll be able to master it tonight.¡± The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Annie set down the cards, arching an eyebrow. ¡°Already?¡± she asked. ¡°That¡¯s quick, right?¡± ¡°I mean, yeah,¡± he shrugged. ¡°Like I told you, super impressive.¡± She chuckled, standing up. ¡°You¡¯re awfully boastful for someone who¡¯s going to spend the next few hours face-planting into the dirt.¡± ¡°And after those few hours, I¡¯ll never have to worry about face-planting into anything ever again.¡± Zoe looked up from her book. ¡°Will you require healing?¡± she asked, sitting in a comfy looking chair. He wiggled his hand. ¡°Eh, probably not. But I¡¯d appreciate you standing by. Just in case.¡± His Intent for [Feather Fall] wasn¡¯t anywhere close to done, but it was enough to at least cushion his fall. He¡¯d broken a leg the first few times he cast the spell, with Zoe thankfully being there to help with that. ¡°You should go to the roof,¡± Silvia piped up. ¡°If you did that, your magic would see how serious you are about learning it, and poof, it¡¯ll happen,¡± she nodded to herself. ¡°Trust me.¡± Rowan thought about answering, but decided against it. There was a fifty-fifty chance Silvia actually believed what she said, which made him want to sit down and have a lengthy conversation about why she was wrong. But in the end, he just shook his head. ¡°Sure, I¡¯ll go to the roof.¡± Being in the air longer meant getting more use out of [Feather Fall], which should translate to learning it quicker. But the roof was much higher than the second floor, and a miscast wouldn¡¯t be pleasant. Rowan made his way up the stairs while the rest of the team moved out into the yard, dragging chairs behind them. He climbed out of the window, using his impressive Dexterity to pull himself out onto the sloped roof. Thankfully, it was angled away from the street, meaning there wouldn¡¯t be any onlookers watching him repeatedly fling himself off of it. Resting his feet against the edge, he leaned back. Rowan ignored the jeering coming from below and focused on his Intent. Alright, what does [Feather Fall] actually do? he asked himself. I want it to slow down my descent, and blowing upwards against my feet seems like alright Intent. It¡¯s not all that efficient, and the maneuvering is way off, but it¡¯s an adequate base. There wasn¡¯t much Rowan could do besides test it out. Glancing down, he took a deep breath, the height sending a tingling feeling up his spine. With Zoe there¡ªand with his improved Vitality on top of that¡ªthe fall wouldn¡¯t kill him, even if he messed up. It still took him a moment to overcome it. [Iron Will] flared as Rowan prepared to cast, the fog lifting, leaving behind a sharp focus. Kai flew overhead, cawing in support. Rowan couldn¡¯t suppress a smile as he closed his eyes, pulling mana from his Core. It burst through his channels, threading its way throughout his body, following along to the drawings he¡¯d spend hours memorizing. With [Iron Will] active, Rowan felt like he was guiding a boat down a rapid stream, the twists and turns all working to help him. He completed three full circuits before he finally started. The path felt good, now all he needed to do was imbue an Intent. Not hesitating, he bent his knees and forcefully pushed himself off the roof, utilizing every ounce of power his body had. As soon as his feet left the roof an image formed in his head. Focused Lift. Reaching the apex of his jump, mana burst forth. It pushed up against his feet, moving over his legs and up his body, slowing him down. Hair whipping back and forth, Rowan tried to stabilize himself with his arms. It worked¡ªto an extent¡ªbut his descent was still far from graceful. Kai swooped down next to him, circling as they fell through the air. Halfway to the ground, Rowan lost his legs. His Intent slipped for barely a moment, and he was sent spinning. The Wind blowing against his feet didn¡¯t stop, but with his balance disturbed, it was more of a hindrance than a boon. Rowan managed to move the spell manifestation to blow against his upper back, tilting him forward just enough to land on his feet A pained grunt escaped his lips as he impacted the ground¡ªhard¡ªbending his knees to absorb the impact and rolling forward. Silvia raised six fingers, quickly followed by Omi¡¯s four, and finally Annie¡¯s two. Rowan stood up, dusting off his coat. ¡°Two? Really?¡± he asked, shaking the numbness from his legs. ¡°Tough crowd.¡± Annie shrugged. ¡°That roll at the end cost you a few points.¡± ¡°I gave you an extra two for that,¡± Silvia added with a thumbs up. Rowan chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. Practicing spells with company turned out to be much more enjoyable than he¡¯d first thought it¡¯d be. ¡°I¡¯m going to get a ten out of you tonight. Just you wait,¡± he said with a confident grin, walking inside and climbing back up to the roof, ready to try again. . . . Over the next few hours, Rowan changed his approach multiple times. Having Wind blowing up against his feet worked, but the Intent wasn¡¯t exactly a masterpiece. The problem was the cost, and the lack of control. He needed to keep his balance throughout the fall, keeping the Wind blowing directly from below. Slipping for even a heartbeat sent him into a tailspin, which didn¡¯t always end with him landing on his feet. Three ones in a row made him try something different. His next idea had been to change the direction. Instead of having the spell blow him upwards, Rowan pointed it toward the ground. He¡¯d hoped that if he timed it correctly, it would be enough to negate his momentum. Two broken legs later, he discarded that idea. [Feather Fall] was supposed to feel like gliding through the air. It wasn¡¯t an empowered [Gust], or a focused [Wind Blast]. It was its own spell, and Rowan needed an Intent to match. He went over his thoughts, trying to verbalize them. It doesn''t stop my descent, it only slows it. That¡¯s the base. Stopping me fully seems like a step towards getting [Fly], and that isn¡¯t happening anytime soon. To create a good Intent a mage first needed to understand his affinity. To know what it does¡ªand more importantly, how it does it. Just eyeballing it might be enough to get results, but they would be inefficient. An Intent was what gave a spell power, and Rowan wanted his to be amazing. There¡¯s only so much surface area if I focus just on my feet. Doing that is just going to waste most of my mana. Wind wanted to blow. It wanted to move. And giving it that option made his Intent that much stronger. Rowan sat down on the slanted roof, his heels hooked into the gutter, a thoughtful expression on his face. I have to guide it around me. Like falling into a tube, he realized. That way it can use my whole body to slow me down. It took him a few minutes to accurately imagine it, but when he was done, his Intent felt solid. Much better¡ªand firmer¡ªthan the ones he¡¯d tried thus far. The last few hours had worn away at the excitement Rowan felt from jumping, so he didn¡¯t hesitate as he bent his knees and leaped forward. With the circuit memorized, Rowan¡¯s mana moved through his channels with a familiar efficiency. A feeling of potential enveloped him, and as he reached the apex of his jump, he imbued his Intent. Guided Descent. Wind erupted around his body, swirling from his legs all the way up to his head. It enveloped him in a tight embrace, the rotation keeping his feet pointed firmly towards the ground. A giddy laugh slipped from Rowan¡¯s lips as he glided towards the ground, the previously shady descent transformed into a controlled landing. His knees bent slightly as he touched down on the soft ground, a wide smile on his face. Cutting the flow of mana, the Wind dissipated, leaving him standing before a group of fierce judges. He was about to say something, but a notification cut him off.
Congratulations! You have mastered the Murmur-level spell, [Feather Fall]!
¡°Finally,¡± Rowan smiled, a sense of accomplishment washing over him. The thrill that came with mastering a new spell was a feeling he¡¯d never get used to. And he didn¡¯t want to either. Rowan still had some tweaking to do, the same with all newly learned spells. His Intent was good enough for the System to acknowledge it, but it wasn¡¯t anywhere close to being perfected. And judging by the snags Rowan felt in the mana flow, the circuit also needed some revision. Magic was a never-ending pursuit, and true mastery wasn¡¯t something that came lightly. Silvia pulled him away from his thoughts, raising two fingers. ¡°Well, that was lame.¡± Rowan burst out laughing, already walking back upstairs to try again. Chapter 42 - Worldy Experience Three days after mastering [Feather Fall], Rowan stood in front of a gated mansion. For what had to have been the dozenth time today, he pulled up his spell list, a wide smile on his face. Spells: Whisper - [Flash], [Heat], [Ignite], [Ember Spray], [Heat Wave], [Burning Hands] Murmur - [Firebolt], [Fire Shield], [Burning Whip] Chant - [Fireball] Hymn - [/] Aria - [/] Ode - [/] Epic - [/] Spells: Whisper - [Gust] Murmur - [Feather Fall], [Whisper Step] Chant - [/] Hymn - [/] Aria - [/] Ode - [/] Epic - [/] [Whisper Step] had taken him a day to memorize and master, but Rowan was having trouble with [Tailwind]. It was much more complex than the first two he¡¯d learned, with its tome having more than three hundred illustrations. Mage advisor Tremil had offered to help, and it¡¯d be a waste not to take advantage of it. He was a Yellow-Core mage with the Ice affinity¡ªa combination of both Water and Wind¡ªand a practitioner with years of experience. There were less than a dozen casters of his skill level in the whole region, and in Litwick, he was the strongest one by far. Rowan waited at the gate, looking around at the walled compound the card led him to. He placed it back in his coat, raising his hand to knock again when the gate finally opened. The tall doors swung outwards, revealing a frazzled Tion standing on the other side. ¡°Ah, mage Jamis,¡± he dusted off his shirt, inclining his head. ¡°Master was wondering when you¡¯d be stopping by. Please, come in.¡± As he entered, Rowan glanced around. Taking in the meticulously maintained lawn with a grove of fruit trees at the back, surrounding a small pond. To the right was a large manor, luxurious but not ostentatious. It looked like a house that was well lived in, with a few people milling about in the large yard. The walls around the compound were large enough to shield practicing mages from prying eyes, and Rowan was pretty sure there had been enchantments on the gate. Tion saw him glancing at the artificial groove and he smiled. ¡°Master Tremil had it made so I had a place to practice both of my affinities in tandem.¡± Water and Earth? Rowan thought, taking in the pond and the trees surrounding it. Makes sense. Tremil has the Water affinity, and if they¡¯re apprenticing under him, it¡¯s only natural they would practice one of his. ¡°So, you¡¯re working towards Nature?¡± Rowan asked, walking up the path toward the manor, finding himself pleasantly surprised. ¡°Not many mages go that route.¡± ¡°I know,¡± Tion shrugged. ¡°Most would rather throw around lightning or magma,¡± he chuckled. ¡°But no affinity is inherently stronger than any other. It all depends on how you use it. And I find myself drawn to Nature in all its aspects.¡± ¡°Druid or Healer?¡± Most mages who chose Nature as their tier two affinity picked the former. Healing was a complex and expansive art¡ªone better left to priests or clerics. It only showed its worth as a tier three affinity, but that was a height few achieved. Tion shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m not yet sure. That hurdle is a ways off. It might be years before I have to choose.¡± ¡°And what about your brother?¡± Rowan asked as they reached the house. ¡°He doesn''t strike me as someone who appreciates Nature.¡± Tion snorted. ¡°You¡¯d be right about that. The only thing that concerns him is the amount of carnage he can bring. Says he wants to be like ¡®the mages of old¡¯, bringing down mountains and splitting seas.¡± ¡°I¡¯m guessing he picked Magma?¡± Rowan asked with a wry smile. Tion nodded, ¡°Without hesitation.¡± Rowan spoke with the young mage for a few more minutes before they made their way inside. He¡¯d tried to ask about the upcoming expedition, but Tion avoided the topic. Deciding not to pry, Rowan let it go. And it wasn¡¯t like he minded. Talking about magic with a fellow practitioner wasn¡¯t something Rowan got to do often. Tion might have been younger than him, but the boy had been a mage for years longer than him. He wasn¡¯t spouting nonsense, and Rowan found himself drawn into the conversation. ¡°And those whips?¡± Tion added as they made their way up the stairs. ¡°I can manage two¡ªmaybe three if I don¡¯t have any distractions. But keeping eight manifested at the same time? In the middle of a fight?¡± he shook his head in bewilderment. ¡°That¡¯s something else. I¡¯m not even sure Master Tremil could do much better.¡± This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be so sure about that,¡± Rowan chuckled. ¡°Besides, I had a skill helping me. Five is my natural limit right now¡± he pointed out. ¡°And five manifestations isn¡¯t that much higher than three,¡± he shrugged, glancing at the young mage. ¡°[Burning Whip] is a favourite of mine, so I¡¯ve had a lot of practice. I¡¯m sure you¡¯d be able to manage it just fine with a bit of elbow grease.¡± Tion smiled, giving a small nod as he knocked on the door at the end of the hall. ¡°I appreciate the vote of confidence.¡± A calm voice answered. ¡°Come in.¡± The thick wooden doors opened, revealing a cozy-looking space. The walls were lined with bookshelves, a large desk in one corner and an area to relax in the other. It looked more like a lounge than a study, with Tremil sitting on the couch, a book held in his hands. He looked up, a kindly smile on his face. ¡°Mage Jamis.¡± Setting aside his book, he gestured at the chair opposite him. ¡°I was hoping you¡¯d take me up on my invitation. Please, sit.¡± Rowan did just that, taking a seat and accepting a glass filled with a golden-brown liquid. ¡°I¡¯m not so prideful that I¡¯d reject help from a mage of your caliber,¡± he said, taking a sip of the offered drink. ¡°And I rarely get to talk about magic with someone knowledgeable, so that¡¯s certainly a plus.¡± Tremil chuckled. ¡°I imagine.¡± He glanced at Tion. ¡°Thank you for bringing him. You may go.¡± The young mage nodded and closed the door behind him, leaving just the two of them. After a few moments of silence, Tremil spoke. ¡°You are an extremely competent mage. Yet also, paradoxically behind,¡± he said casually, tracing the edge of his glass. ¡°From my reports, you were at the first stage of advancement just a while ago. Which, if you don¡¯t mind me saying, is very¡­ strange, for a man of your talents.¡± Rowan arched an eyebrow. ¡°There are reports about me?¡± ¡°Quite a few.¡± Tremil laughed. ¡°But do not worry, all of them are complimentary,¡± a smile tugged at his lips. ¡°Well, most of them at least.¡± Rowan wasn¡¯t surprised with the direction this conversation was heading. In fact, he¡¯d expected it from the moment Tremil had offered to help him out. His advancement wasn¡¯t something Rowan could really hide. At his age, most mages were on the cusp of advancing their Core¡¯s to Yellow. It wasn¡¯t even a matter of skill, but of time spent working towards it and the dedication to see it through. The first roadblock to a mages advancement was creating a tier-two affinity. You needed to combine your tier-one¡¯s into something more. Which took a deep understanding of both, on top of the one you wanted to create. All that to say that Rowan¡¯s age was something he expected to be questioned. Especially by a skilled mage. He¡¯d thought about how to answer those questions, and the solution he came up with was incredibly simple. By lying. ¡°What do you want me to address first?¡± he asked, taking another sip of the deeply flavourful drink. ¡°Being strangely competent, or being paradoxically behind?¡± ¡°Whatever you wish,¡± Tremil chuckled warmly. ¡°This is not an interrogation. I am simply hoping to learn about a powerful new addition to our city. One which came seemingly out of nowhere, with coin to spare.¡± Rowan nodded, taking a moment to compose his thoughts. His lie needed to cover his skill, his resources, and his lack of advancement. And thankfully, he knew exactly what to say ¡°I¡¯m an apprentice, sent out to gather some worldly experiences,¡± he shrugged. ¡°My master thought being on my own and tackling problems without a safety net would do me some good. And so far, it seems to be working out.¡± Tremil nodded, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. ¡°As I thought,¡± he muttered, looking at him with a curious expression. ¡°And if you don¡¯t mind me asking, who is your master? I¡¯m acquainted with many mages throughout the kingdom, mayhaps I know him.¡± Rowan shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I¡¯m not supposed to say,¡± he said with an apologetic shrug. ¡°But I doubt you¡¯ve heard of him. We¡¯re from¡­ further north.¡± That wasn¡¯t exactly an informative statement, seeing as everything was further north of Litwick. But it got the point across. He was hoping Tremil would see it as the deflection it was and move on, steering the conversation into something more comfortable than his past. ¡°Ah, a shame,¡± he said after a moment, refilling his own glass. ¡°I won¡¯t pry then. But that still leaves my other question.¡± Rowan arched an eyebrow. ¡°Me being skilled?¡± ¡°Yes. Your showing against Killian was spectacular,¡± Tremil said admiringly. ¡°Eight simultaneous casting, some being interchanged with ranged spells is a tremendous feat. One I don¡¯t think many newly advanced mages could accomplish.¡± ¡°I recently worked on getting a skill, and it¡¯s really been helping,¡± Rowan answered. ¡°Not to mention that both those spells were ones I had the most experience with. They¡¯re my go to ways of dealing with threats.¡± ¡°Still,¡± he said. ¡°A wonderful showing.¡± They lapsed into a comfortable silence for a moment before Tremil continued ¡°Well, no matter,¡± setting aside his glass, he interlocked his fingers in front of him. ¡°Tell me Jamis, what can I help you with?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been having some trouble with [Tailwind],¡± he admitted. ¡°And I was hoping you may have some insight? I¡¯ve got the circuit memorized, it¡¯s just my Intent that needs work.¡± Tremil¡¯s brows furrowed. ¡°Why are you starting with such a complicated spell?¡± he asked. ¡°There might not be time for you to master it by the time we have to leave.¡± ¡°Oh, I¡¯m not starting with it,¡± Rowan said. ¡°I¡¯ve already mastered [Gust], [Whisper Step] and [Featherfall].¡± A surprised look flashed across the older mage''s face. ¡°Already?¡± Rowan suppressed a sigh. He felt like he was revealing things he shouldn¡¯t, but there was no way around it. Tremil knew how long he had his second affinity, and if he was going to help Rowan with his spellwork, he¡¯d see him cast all three of those. After thinking for a few seconds, Tremil slowly nodded. ¡°Your master is lucky to have you as an apprentice,¡± he smiled. ¡°I¡¯ll gladly help you take another step on your Path. That is the duty of the older generation, is it not?¡± Rowan chuckled. ¡°Thank you, and if there¡¯s anything I can do for you in return, feel free to ask.¡± Tremil took another sip of his drink, tapping the rim with his finger. ¡°Actually, there is something,¡± he finally said. ¡°The Guildmistress''s scouts returned yesterday, and we¡¯ve got a tally on our opponents.¡± Rowan straightened up, leaning forward. ¡°And?¡± ¡°They¡¯ve confirmed the presence of a Warchief, a Warlock, a dozen casters in a cohort, and almost two-hundred hobgoblins,¡± he set down his drink. ¡°Their base is two days march east, and since the meeting, another four-hundred lesser goblins joined them.¡± Rowan frowned. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ a lot.¡± That news brought a wave of nervousness with it, but a quick flare of [Iron Will] snuffed it back down. The fight is happening either way, and I¡¯m doing everything I can to prepare, he reminded himself. There¡¯s no point in unnecessary worry. ¡°It is,¡± Tremil nodded. ¡°But we¡¯ve got the manpower to deal with them,¡± he said firmly, no doubt in his tone. ¡°A single Silver-rank is worth ten hobgoblins, and while the lesser goblins are high in number, they are no real threats. At least not against a coordinated assault,¡± he looked at Rowan with an appraising eye, as if mulling something over. ¡°There is one more thing.¡± Rowan gestured for him to continue, eager to hear what was weighing on the mage advisor''s thoughts. It obviously had something to do with the excursion, and from the looks of it, him as well. ¡°The Guildmistress will be dealing with the Warchief while I focus my efforts on the Warlock,¡± he began. ¡°This battle is going to be decided the moment one of our fights concludes. But until then, the rest of you are going to have to hold the line.¡± Rowan knew that already. Battles were won by the strongest person on the field. Quinea by herself could most likely take care of most of the hobgoblins¡ªthe same as Tremil¡ªbut they were going to be preoccupied. ¡°There is one other threat the scouts found,¡± Tremil said slowly, sounding almost hesitant. Here it comes. Tremil sighed, running a hand through his hair. ¡°The Warlock has an apprentice of his own. A peak Orange-Core caster with the Wind and Earth affinities,¡± he looked at Rowan with an intent expression. ¡°We¡¯re short on casters, and even with the reinforcements from Sheercliff, taking on the cohort of shamans will prove troublesome.¡± Rowan¡¯s heartbeat quickened, an excited grin threatening to split his face. ¡°The Guildmistress and I think you should be the one to fight against the apprentice.¡± He took a deep breath, trying not to show his eagerness. Well, you wanted to show off, Rowan thought to himself. Guess it worked. Chapter 43 - A Simple Question Rowan and Tremil spent the next half hour talking about the upcoming expedition and what he hoped to achieve before they left. It was a productive conversation, but he found his thoughts occupied by the task he¡¯d been given. Fighting a peak Orange-Core mage. The shaman he¡¯d fought in the cave had been a lackluster caster. It barely utilized its second affinity, a hallmark of a newly advanced mage. That wouldn¡¯t be the case with his next opponent. This shaman was an apprentice to a Warlock, and while that didn¡¯t inherently make it stronger, it meant the goblin had access to resources, and not to mention tutelage. Its arsenal of spells would be larger, more than likely consisting of at least a few Chants. Rowan would be lying if he said he wasn¡¯t nervous. Winning wasn¡¯t guaranteed, but he felt up to the task. There was only one way to truly grow stronger, and that was to push yourself past your limits. To test your strength against an opponent that could actually threaten you. That was why adventurers didn¡¯t spend all of their time in training yards working on their skills. They needed a whetstone to sharpen themselves against, and the apprentice would be Rowan¡¯s. ¡°Well,¡± Tremil said, pulling him away from his thoughts. ¡°You¡¯ve come here for a reason. What do you say we get started?¡± Standing up, he straightened up his robe, flicking his fingers towards the two glasses. A small orb of water appeared, filling them up and swirling around the cups, cleaning them of what little remained of their drink. With a casual flick of the wrist, the water flew out the open window, quickly followed by a surprised yelp. ¡°Hey!¡± Huon called out from below. ¡°What was that for!?¡± Rowan snorted, a smile tugging at his lips. ¡°Nice aim.¡± Tremil shrugged, his serious expression undermined by the mischievous glint in his eyes. ¡°Pure coincidence, I assure you.¡± As they made their way outside, Rowan found his eyes wandering to the pictures decorating the walls. They depicted men and women with a definite resemblance to the twins Tremil was mentoring, and the last one confirmed his suspicions. House Greenstride, he thought to himself. And is that¡­? The last picture was of a serious-looking man standing next to a much younger Tremil. He caught him looking, his lips quirking upward. ¡°Back when I still had a full head of hair.¡± Rowan chuckled. ¡°You know, there are potions that could help with that.¡± They stared at the picture a moment longer, a wistful smile on the mage advisor''s face. ¡°We grew up together,¡± he said after a moment. ¡°There hadn¡¯t been a mage born in my family for generations, and when I Awakened with a Core, House Greenstride took me in.¡± Rowan nodded. Theoretically, anyone could become a mage. All you needed to form a Core was raise both Intelligence and Willpower to ten. Which didn¡¯t sound like a lot, but for the newly Awakened, it was four full levels. Usually, adventurers waited until they hit Gold before going for it. Not only because the stat requirements were much easier to stomach, but because having a Core didn¡¯t automatically make you a mage. You needed gold to buy spell tomes, and connections to find someone willing to teach you. For those of a common background, it was a daunting prospect. ¡°Is that why you¡¯re teaching them?¡± Tremil didn¡¯t answer right away, taking a moment to think through his response. ¡°Yes and no,¡± he finally said. ¡°There were other mages more suited for the task in Davenport, but my familiarity with the boys and the upcoming surge made sending them to Litwick an attractive prospect,¡± he glanced at Rowan. ¡°Lord Greenstride is a steadfast and firm ruler, but the love he holds for his family tempers all of his decisions.¡± They stood in silence for another moment before Tremil shook his head. ¡°Look at me, blabbering on,¡± he chuckled. ¡°Let us go. We¡¯re wasting daylight.¡± As they made their way through the hallways, down the stairs and into the massive backyard, they found Huon wiping his head with a towel, a scowl on his face. ¡°I know you did that on purpose,¡± he muttered, his eyes narrowing when he saw Rowan. ¡°What¡¯s he doing here?¡± Tremil didn¡¯t answer immediately. Instead, he flicked his fingers, another orb of water rising from a nearby fountain and drenching him again. ¡°Hey!¡± Huon yelped, taking a few steps back. ¡°I just dried off!¡± Rowan struggled to keep the amusement off his face, failing miserably and earning a sour look from the boy. That only made him want to laugh more, but he restrained himself. ¡°Be polite,¡± Tremil chastised his apprentice. ¡°He¡¯s our guest, and you will treat him as such.¡± Huon¡ªlooking not all that pleased¡ªgrumbled something under his breath, but nevertheless quieted down. ¡°Come,¡± Tremil said as he turned his attention to Rowan, ignoring Huon¡¯s sour expression. ¡°Let us see what you¡¯re capable of.¡± The prospect of finally getting some answers about [Tailwind] lifted his mood. Rowan had been having more trouble than he¡¯d like to admit, the spell proving strangely resistant to his casting. ¡°Can I come?¡± Huon interjected, suddenly looking more interested. Tremil glanced at Rowan, giving him the option to decline. ¡°I don¡¯t mind,¡± he shrugged. ¡°He¡¯ll probably enjoy watching me get knocked flat on my face a few dozen times.¡± Huon¡¯s expression twisted into something resembling a smirk. ¡°That sounds like a great way to spend the afternoon.¡± Tremil sighed. ¡°Or you could consider training, like your brother,¡± he said, his tone laced with mild exasperation. ¡°We¡¯ll be going to battle soon, and I¡¯d rather my apprentices spend their time preparing, not spectating.¡± The reminder of the looming goblin threat made Huon¡¯s expression falter, his earlier bravado dimming ever so slightly. However, it wasn¡¯t fully extinguished, and he recovered quickly. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°We¡¯re going to be fighting shamans. I was hoping that after you''re done teaching him,¡± he gestured at Rowan, ¡°we could spar.¡± Rowan definitely wasn¡¯t opposed to that. The boy didn¡¯t seem to like him all that much, and he understood why. He¡¯d met more than a few nobles who acted that way¡ªthough never towards him before. Whatever else Rowan might have been, his family name hadn¡¯t changed, but that didn¡¯t mean he hadn¡¯t seen the behaviour around him. Huon saw him as a no-name hedge mage intruding on his master''s time. Someone older¡ªand presumably weaker¡ªthan himself. Because if he¡¯d been a noble, he would have surely said something. Right? ¡°I think that¡¯s a great idea.¡± Huon looked at Tremil with an expectant expression, and the older mage slowly nodded. ¡°Yes!¡± the boy pumped his fist, immediately straightening up. Rowan shook his head in amusement. Huon may have been closer to Yellow than him, but he was still just a kid, probably fifteen years old. Though I can¡¯t say I won¡¯t enjoy bringing him down a peg or two, Rowan thought to himself. Fighting another mage would be beneficial to both of them. And when Rowan won, Huon would either like him even less, or the opposite. He wouldn¡¯t be surprised with the first, but Rowan was hoping for the second. They started making their way toward a grove in the garden, passing through the lush backyard surrounded by meticulously kept greenery and well-maintained paths. Rowan marveled at the attention to detail. This wasn¡¯t just a place to live¡ªit was a training ground for mages. A space where they could practice without prying eyes. Tall trees with glowing red bark radiating Fire mana lined one side of the grove, while another was filled with pale birch whose leaves swayed to an unseen breeze. Tremil led them towards the latter, his expression thoughtful but focused. They came to a stop in a clearing that was bathed in sunlight, filtered through the gently rustling branches above. ¡°Alright,¡± the older man said, turning to face Rowan with a measured, yet serious expression. ¡°Show me.¡± Rowan nodded. His issue with [Tailwind] felt like it was coming from something other than his Intent, and having someone knowledgeable guide him through the spell would be a tremendous help. Rowan took a deep breath. This was something his family would have helped with¡ªsomething he¡¯d been dreaming of since he was a child. His parents would have mentored him, just like they did the rest of his siblings. And with him being the youngest, Rowan would have had more teachers than he knew what to do with. [Iron Will] flared, clearing his thoughts. It took a little more focus than usual, but Rowan managed it. Stepping forward, he closed his eyes and began mentally tracing the circuit. It had taken him a day to learn it, and with his skill active, it had become familiar to him. Well-practiced. Rowan¡¯s mana moved easily, yielding to his will and following the intricate pathways he¡¯d memorized. But as always, the moment he began to imbue his intent, things went sideways. Carry me forward. Grant me speed. He rushed forward before it could fully manifest, pushing every ounce of Dexterity he had to gather speed. He¡¯d already learned his lesson about using it while standing still, and it wasn¡¯t something he¡¯d like to repeat with an audience. At least not this one. The wind responded to his call, hitting him square in the back. For a moment, Rowan thought it might work this time. He tried to keep his balance, throwing one leg in front of the other in a furious tempo, willing himself to go faster, trying to push his body as far as it could go, to keep pace with the magic blowing at his back. But then, as had happened every other time he¡¯d tried this, the force quickly overwhelmed him, pushing him forward faster than his legs could carry him. He stumbled, barely managing to throw his weight forward in time to avoid crashing face-first into the dirt. Rowan managed an awkward roll, grunting as his knees impacted the dirt, tumbling to a stop. Huon¡¯s laugh echoed across the yard. Rowan stood up, brushing the dirt from his clothes. Tremil sent him a sharp look. ¡°What?¡± the boy shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. ¡°That was hilarious.¡± The older mage sighed. ¡°Where do you think your spell went wrong?¡± ¡°Probably the part where he threw a [Wind Blast] at his back.¡± Tremil¡¯s hand moved quicker than Rowan could follow, smacking the boy upside the head. ¡°Another comment like that and I¡¯ll have you meditating for a month,¡± his eyes narrowed. ¡°If you can¡¯t be useful, be quiet.¡± Huon looked down, snuffling his feet. ¡°Yes master,¡± he muttered. Rowan ignored him, thinking about his answer. ¡°I can¡¯t seem to regulate the power,¡± he finally said. ¡°It''s like I¡¯m opening a valve in my Core, but the flow just doesn''t stop.¡± Tremil nodded. ¡°A common problem for someone new to the affinity,¡± he rubbed his chin. ¡°Your intent¡ªwhat is it?¡± Wincing, Rowan hesitated. He knew his Intent wasn¡¯t perfect. It wasn¡¯t even all that good. But it was the only one that had resulted in something stronger than a gentle breeze. ¡°Carry me forward. Grant me speed.¡± ¡°That needs refining,¡± Huon added. Tremil¡¯s brows furrowed, but the boy quickly continued. ¡°It¡¯s a Murmur, it shouldn¡¯t need two components!¡± Rowan nodded. ¡°I know. But I¡¯ve only been learning the spell for two days, and that was the only one that resulted in a useful manifestation.¡± Huon looked taken aback, and his mouth moved before his brain could process. ¡°Bullshit.¡± Tremil¡¯s expression grew stormy. Huon raised his hands. ¡°Wait! I mean¡­¡± he stammered, glancing at Rowan. ¡°How¡­ how did you learn the circuit in just two days?¡± he gulped, his eyes flickering toward Tremil. Rowan shrugged. ¡°I have a good memory.¡± The real answer was that his inherent skill with magic, combined with [Iron Will] made memorizing things almost trivial. It was like his mind found connection faster than he could acknowledge them. The images in the spell tome blended together when he looked, giving him a clear vision of where his mana needed to go. Tremil¡¯s brows furrowed in thought. ¡°I could teach you a better Intent,¡± he said slowly. ¡°But¡ª¡± ¡°I appreciate it, truly,¡± he cut him off. ¡°But I¡¯d rather not.¡± Huon¡¯s eyes widened. It really was a generous offer. Intents were rarely shared, even for lower-ranked spells like [Tailwind]. And to the boy, refusing most likely seemed like a dumb thing to do. But Rowan wanted his own. The tomes from the Vault all had Intents written on the last page, and if he wanted to take the easy path, Rowan could have done that already. Tremil inclined his head, a smile tugging on his lips. ¡°Very well.¡± Suddenly, two chairs appeared in front of them. The mage advisor took a seat, gesturing for Rowan to do the same. Huh, he glanced at the ring on his finger. I guess I shouldn¡¯t be surprised. He¡¯s a strong mage tutoring two nobles, it makes sense that he has a storage ring. Rowan sat down across from him while Huon stood off to the side. He hesitated for a moment before sitting down on the grass, resting his back against a nearby tree. ¡°There are a few things I¡¯d like to point out,¡± Tremil began. ¡°The issue is not just your Intent¡ªthough as my apprentice so eloquently put it, it could use some refining,¡± he smiled. ¡°But let us take a moment to step back. Start from the beginning, as it were. Firstly, what spells have you mastered so far?¡± ¡°[Gust], [Whisper Step], and [Feather Fall],¡± Rowan answered. Tremil nodded, tapping his chin thoughtfully. ¡°An impressive repertoire for the short amount of time you¡¯ve had your affinity,¡± he said. ¡°And your choice of spells shows wisdom. Most young mages would have gone for [Wind Blast] or [Wind Blade].¡± ¡°I needed mobility,¡± he explained. ¡°I¡¯m fine when it comes to offensive spells, but I¡¯m critically lacking in utility,¡± Rowan ran a hand through his hair. ¡°Fire is amazing at what it does,¡± his lips quirked up into a wry smile. ¡°It¡¯s just that what it does isn¡¯t exactly¡­ subtle.¡± Tremil chuckled. ¡°Not yet,¡± he pointed out. ¡°Fire grows more controlled once you reach Hymn-level spells, while Wind spells grow in power. It¡¯s an inherent difference between the two affinities, one you need to understand in order to progress along your path.¡± The older mage leaned in. ¡°To start, I am going to ask you a simple question, and I want you to think about your answer deeply.¡± He raised his hand, a tightly controlled whirlwind flaring to life in his palm. It swirled around his fingers in a precise pattern, almost mesmerizing in appearance as Tremil spoke, ¡°What exactly is Wind?¡± Chapter 44 - Motion Rowan gave Tremil¡¯s question the attention it deserved. What is Wind? he thought, running a hand through his hair. The simple answer was that it was moving air. But he wasn¡¯t just asking about the physical manifestation. It was a magical affinity, and knowing what it was was paramount to mastering it. He¡¯d come to understand Fire in a way that was almost instinctual, yet Rowan hadn¡¯t devoted all that much time to doing the same for Wind. [Feather Fall] and [Whisper Step] had come easily to him, because in essence, they were simple spells. But [Tailwind] was as complex as a Murmur-level spell got. He couldn¡¯t brute force it. To learn it, Rowan needed a deeper understanding of his affinity. I¡¯ve been imagining it like a force, but that feels wrong, he frowned. It¡¯s not just moving air. And it isn¡¯t just the force behind it. Rowan¡¯s brows furrowed and [Iron Will] flared, an idea starting to form. ¡°It¡¯s flow,¡± he said. ¡°Movement.¡± I¡¯ve been focusing on the end result¡ªspeed. But not its source. ¡°Wind is¡­ motion,¡± Rowan said slowly, his thoughts starting to crystalize into something concrete. ¡°It¡¯s the force that drives everything forward. Breeze or storm, it doesn''t matter. It¡¯s not about the speed, but it¡¯s flow.¡± Tremil smiled. ¡°A good answer.¡± The spell flowing around his fingers grew in size. The band of rapidly moving air swirling up his forearm and back down. ¡°You¡¯ve been thinking of [Tailwind] as simply making yourself faster,¡± he said. ¡°But that¡¯s why it overwhelms you. The wind isn¡¯t something you control. It¡¯s something you harness, something you allow to guide and carry you forward.¡± Rowan absorbed the words, turning them over in his mind. It was such a subtle distinction¡ªone he felt he should have been able to make on his own, but he didn¡¯t let that discourage him. ¡°If I had to guess, your Intent is too forceful. Too rigid,¡± Tremil continued. ¡°Wind doesn''t require a firm hand. It wants to move naturally. As you said, to flow.¡± With a flick of his wrist, the spell erupted into the air. Two spirals wrapping around each other, following an unseen current. ¡°To me, it looked like you were trying to outrun your own spell. And while that might work to a certain extent, [Tailwind] isn¡¯t so narrow. Fully mastered, it should allow you to move in any direction. A constant helping hand at your back.¡± Rowan nodded. ¡°I think I get it,¡± he said, eager to try it out. ¡°I was trying to force the spell by feeding it more mana. But all that did was destabilize it faster.¡± ¡°Do you want to try again?¡± Tremil asked. ¡°Yes,¡± he said immediately, a smile tugging at his lips. Rowan stood up, walking a few steps away and closing his eyes. I¡¯ll leave my Intent for later, he decided. Just the change in understanding should be enough for now. Once I get the hang of it, I¡¯ll start tinkering with it. He took a deep, calming breath, getting ready. Magic was his birthright. He was descended from a long line of Archmages, and ever since he Awakened, Rowan had torn through every obstacle in his way. This would be no different. Reaching for his Core, he drew on his mana. It moved through his channels with a familiar ease, but instead of rushing, he spent nearly a minute tracing the circuit. I don¡¯t need to think about speed. That¡¯s going to come whether I want it to or not. I need to focus on the motion. On the way Wind moves without me interfering. That was simple in theory, but executing it was another thing entirely. Exhaling slowly, his mind clear and focused, Rowan imbued his Intent. The moment he let it take shape a subtle pressure built behind him, pushing at his back like a steady breeze. Rowan opened his eyes, crouched low, and sprang forward, trusting the spell to catch him. For the first few steps, it worked. The Wind surged with him, matching his movements as he propelled himself forward without resistance. His strides lengthened, and for a moment, Rowan felt like he was gliding¡ªweightless. But then it began to build. The flow behind him grew faster, the current less steady. Rowan¡¯s legs struggled to keep up as the spell began to pull him forward, its power outpacing his movements. Rowan clenched his jaw, trying to adjust his rhythm, but the surge quickly overwhelmed him. His balance broke as his feet tangled beneath him. Momentum took over, sending him careening forward and slamming into the ground with a dull thud. Rowan could already feel the bruises forming, but he pushed himself up, dirt grinding against his palms. He could hear Huon stifle a laugh. ¡°At least he¡¯s consistent.¡± Rowan brushed the dust from his clothes. ¡°It¡¯s progress,¡± he shrugged, turning back to look at Tremil. ¡°Better,¡± he said after a moment. ¡°You managed to go further, and keep it active for longer,¡± he crossed his arms, a thoughtful expression on his face. ¡°But the Wind is still trying to lead you, instead of you following its movements. You need to think less about being pushed forward, and more about flowing with the spell.¡± Stolen novel; please report. Rowan nodded, absorbing the advice. He wasn¡¯t frustrated¡ªthis was part of the process. Every attempt taught him something new, and he¡¯d learned long ago that mastery was achieved by persistence. He closed his eyes again, resetting his mind. [Iron Will] flared, sharpening his focus and banishing the sting of failure. The spell wasn¡¯t perfect, but it was improving. He could feel it. This time, he adjusted his Intent, refining it further. Guide me forward. It was a subtle distinction, but he could already feel the difference. There was a weight to his spell now, one he¡¯d come to associate with understanding. The more of it there was, the closer he was to mastering it. Rowan crouched once more and sprang forward, his mana surging through the circuit with precision. The Wind caught him, pushing gently at his back. His feet moved in rhythm with the spell, each step light and swift. The clearing blurred around him as he gained speed, his body carried forward by the spell¡¯s power. His heart raced in excitement as he realized the flow felt¡­ smoother. More natural. But just as before, it began to shift. The Wind¡¯s momentum grew stronger, its gentle push turning into a relentless force. Rowan tried to adjust his Intent, attempting to guide it back into balance, but the current slipped from his grasp. The surge came too fast, pulling him off his feet and sending him tumbling across the clearing. He rolled twice before coming to a stop, lying on his back and staring up at the swaying branches. ¡°Consistently eating dirt,¡± Huon snickered, drawing a sharp gaze from Tremil. Rowan ignored him, pushing himself back to his feet again. His body didn¡¯t appreciate the abuse, but he was just thankful it wasn¡¯t as bad as mastering [Feather Fall] had been. Only this time, there wasn¡¯t a convenient healer nearby, so he shouldn¡¯t really push it. ¡°Even better,¡± Tremil said, his tone approving. ¡°Now again.¡± Rowan chuckled, walking back into position and closing his eyes. Mastery was a matter of time and effort, and Rowan planned on mastering this spell by nightfall. . . . ¡°Yes!¡± Tremil shouted as Rowan raced across the clearing. ¡°Sometimes, Wind leads you to your destination on curved paths! Don¡¯t just go straight, follow the flow!¡± Rowan¡¯s body ached from the last five hours of training. His legs were bruised and his palms bloody, but his Core burned just as brightly as before. ¡°Don¡¯t think of it as a tool!¡± He focused his attention on a rock outcropping at the far end of the clearing, sharpening his Intent. Unlike Fire, Wind didn¡¯t appreciate being forced. His first affinity was like a beast waiting to be unshackled, but his second worked better when Rowan thought about it like a partner. Guide me forward. Lend me your speed. It wasn¡¯t surging ahead of him this time. Instead, it moved with him, steady and sure. His feet barely touched the ground as he raced to the right, following a curved path towards his destination. That simple change had been the extra weight Rowan had been looking for, and as his speed increased, he felt a change come over him. It wasn¡¯t the sudden, uncontrolled burst of speed he¡¯d experienced before. It was smoother, more controlled¡ªlike the wind had become an extension of his body. Rowan opened his eyes, a grin spreading across his face. There was no stumbling anymore, no awkward imbalance¡ªjust fluid motion.
Congratulations! You have mastered the Murmur-level spell, [Tailwind]!
The System notification appeared in the corner of his eye, and Rowan pulled up his spell list.
Whisper: [Gust]
Murmur: [Feather Fall], [Whisper Step], [Tailwind]
Chant: [/]
Hymn: [/]
Aria: [/]
Ode: [/]
Epic: [/]
A sense of accomplishment washed over him, and Rowan let the spell guide him back towards where Tremil and Huon were waiting. The boy was looking at him with a strange expression, his eyes unblinking. ¡°There¡¯s no way,¡± he muttered. ¡°It¡¯s only been a few hours.¡± Rowan would be lying if he said he didn¡¯t enjoy the amazement on the younger mage''s face. He knew that mastering a Murmur-level spell this quickly was an impressive feat. One that showcased his inherent talent for magic. Tremil had a similar expression, only his was more contained. He¡¯d been watching Rowan cast for the last few hours, and he already had a certain understanding of his capabilities. He let the spell drop a few feet in front of the duo, the Wind gently releasing its grasp. His heart pounded in exhilaration and a wide smile splitting his face as he came to a halt. ¡°That felt¡­ amazing,¡± he said, turning towards Tremil. ¡°Weird. But amazing,¡± he laughed, shaking his head. ¡°Though giving up that much control for a spell to work is going to take some getting used to,¡± he admitted. Rowan doubted he¡¯d be able to keep the spell active for long¡ªeven with it being mastered. That was something he¡¯d need to work towards. But right now, he wasn¡¯t worried about it. The System acknowledged his effort, and that was all that mattered. ¡°You mastered that exceptionally quickly,¡± the older mage inclined his head. ¡°Congratulations,¡± he said, a sincere smile on his face. Rowan dusted off his clothes, returning a bow. ¡°Thank you, mage Tremil. Your guidance was a tremendous help.¡± ¡°Please, you would have mastered it either way. I just nudged the process along.¡± He waved him off. ¡°Besides, it is always a pleasure to help a younger practitioner take a step along their Path.¡± ¡°Well, I appreciate it either way,¡± Rowan said. ¡°If there is anything I can do to return the favor, don¡¯t hesitate to ask.¡± And he meant it too. The older mage was quick to make light of his help, but Rowan appreciated it greatly. Giving out knowledge like that wasn¡¯t common, especially to people you barely even knew. The insight he¡¯d shared most likely saved him a week of experimentation. And while that usually wouldn¡¯t have been a problem, it would have meant going on the expedition without the spell in his repertoire. ¡°Does your offer to duel my apprentice still hold?¡± he asked, a smile tugging at his lips. Huon perked up immediately, an eager expression on his face. ¡°If he still has mana, I¡¯m more than willing,¡± he said quickly. Rowan chuckled, eyeing the younger mage. He was curious to see if his attitude was backed up by actual skill, or if it was all posturing. But judging by his excitement, Rowan had a feeling it was the former. He¡¯d seen his fight against Killian, and now he¡¯d seen him master a complex spell in just a few hours. Huon knew how strong Rowan was¡ªat least to an extent, so for him to want the spar was telling. Rowan cracked his neck, a confident gleam in his eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll try to go easy on you.¡± Chapter 45 - Mage Duel Tremil led them to a wider, more open area of the yard. Unlike the other parts of the garden, there were no trees here. Only a large stone circle indented into the ground. They really went all out with this mansion, Rowan smiled. It¡¯s been a while since I¡¯ve seen a real mage arena. The enchantments flared to life as Tremil stepped onto the outcropping. Then, he summoned four different mana crystals from his storage ring¡ªone for each affinity¡ªand placed them into the center. A soft white glow illuminated the arena as it hummed to life, the enchantments steadily draining the mana from the crystals. He¡¯d thought the spar would be just a battle of Intents. With both of them activating their respective shield spells and taking turns. But with an arena in play, they could go all out. Well, not all out, he reminded himself. I¡¯m not sure how many [Fireball]¡¯s it¡¯s going to take to drain the mana crystal, but I have a feeling it¡¯s not a lot. And the last thing I want is to kill the kid. Mages¡ªunlike warriors¡ªhad the distinct disadvantage of being unable to hold back. At least not at their level of skill. You could stop a sword strike from cleaving through your opponent, but once you cast a spell, it was going to do what you told it to. That was where mage arenas came in. They created an area that was suffused with all four affinities, surrounding the casters in a protective bubble. Depending on the quality of the enchantments, that bubble could be a few feet wide, or skin tight. It was hard not to compare this arena to the ones Rowan had grown up around. Those had all been masterpieces. Crafted by enchanters who¡¯d spent lifetimes honing their craft. They could withstand duels between Green-Core mages, something Rowan doubted this arena could accomplish. But it¡¯s not really fair to compare the two, Rowan thought, making his way to the far side of the circle. Eiselyth is the jewel of the North, and Litwick is¡­ well, Litwick. Tremil stood outside the arena, watching the mana levels like a hawk. If something went wrong and the enchantment failed to work, it would be his job to make sure neither of them got injured. Huon made his way over to the other side of the arena, a pep to his step. Once both of them were in position, Tremil powered up the enchantments. With a buzzing whirl, a protective bubble surrounded both Rowan and his opponent, just over a foot wide. ¡°The rules are simple,¡± Tremil called out. ¡°You fight until your protections are depleted, or until I announce the end of the bout. If you hear me shout, you are to stop immediately,¡± he said firmly. ¡°Prepare yourselves.¡± Rowan stood opposite his opponent, both of them looking at each other with a critical eye. He felt a surge of adrenaline as he prepared himself, stretching to keep the tension from his muscles. Huon¡¯s confidence was apparent, but that only made Rowan more determined. He¡¯d learned a lot in the past few months. He was no longer the same mage he¡¯d been when he teleported to the region, alone and frightened. His magic had grown by leaps and bounds, and his skill had too. It was easy to discount his opponent as a cocky youngling who didn¡¯t know his ass from his elbow, but that would be a mistake¡ªone he¡¯d learned all too well. One he had no desire to repeat. He¡¯d been practicing for years under the tutelage of a skilled practitioner, and you¡¯ve been at it for a few months, he reminded himself, rolling his shoulders. Feel him out first. Don¡¯t over-commit. Watch for an opening, and then strike. Huon bounced on the tips of his toes, shaking his arms, loosening up. ¡°Ready when you are.¡± Closing his eyes, Rowan felt the familiar weight of mana swirling in his Core, just waiting to be unleashed. There was a sense of anticipation in the air, a tension crackling between them. And then, Tremil¡¯s shout echoed across the clearing, ¡°Begin!¡± The moment his hand dropped, both Rowan and Huon moved. Rowan started rushing towards his opponent, Wind mana racing through his channels, building up to cast [Tailwind]. Huon had the Earth and Fire affinities, a combination of both offense and defense. That meant Rowan couldn¡¯t let him establish a position. If he dug himself in, the duel was as good as lost. He¡¯d hunker down behind his walls and pepper him with spells from afar. And Rowan wouldn¡¯t let that happen. Out of all the tier-one affinities, Earth was by far the most mana-efficient. Unlike Fire and Wind, it had the advantage of being abundant, meaning Huon didn¡¯t have to manifest it fully. All he had to do was look down and he¡¯d find more ammunition than he knew what to do with. Rowan¡¯s spell completed a moment later, the Wind wrapping around him in a warm embrace, urging him forward. Huon¡¯s eyes widened in alarm at the speed he was approaching, but he didn¡¯t let that distract him. In the time it had taken for Rowan to complete the spell, his opponent hadn¡¯t been idle. Walls of earth erupted from the ground, severing his line of sight, forcing him to move sideways if he wanted to get close. But Huon didn¡¯t stop there. As Rowan was closing the distance, the younger mage sent out another spell. From behind the [Earthen Wall], the ground rose like a wave, heading straight towards his position. [Earthen Ripple] wasn¡¯t a wide spell, and with [Tailwind] active, combined with his unusually high Dexterity made dodging it trivial. But it told him something important. He has [Stone Sense], Rowan realized. He¡¯s going to try and keep hidden. To wear me down. Mage duels weren¡¯t just about who had the most mana or the strongest spells. To win, you needed to understand your opponents tactics and counter them with your own. Huon had launched the spell right at him, even with the wall blocking his sight. And that was only possible if he knew where he was. As he reached the wall, Rowan bent his knees and launched himself into the air, soaring over the barricade. His heartbeat quickened as [Tailwind] pushed him even higher, giving him a clear view of the other side of the arena. Arms flailing, Rowan landed on the hard stone, absorbing the impact with his knees. He¡¯s quick, I¡¯ll give him that, he thought, taking in the dozen or so pillars jutting out of the ground. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. Right as he got to his feet, they started shaking. [Dust Cloud], he winced, quickly dropping [Tailwind]. Speed wouldn¡¯t help him now. To win, Rowan needed to find him, and more importantly, not get hit in the process. As dust suffused the arena, dropping his visibility, Rowan¡¯s first thought was to use [Gust] to blow it all away. But after a moment¡¯s thought, he stopped himself. I can use this, he thought, an idea crystallizing in his mind. His opponent¡¯s plan was simple and well executed. The pillars he¡¯d summoned would stop Rowan from rushing blindly into the fray, hoping to halt his momentum. But Rowan had a way of dealing with that problem. Closing his eyes, he flared [Iron Will], conjuring the image of the battlefield as seen from above. Rowan hadn¡¯t been lying when he said his memory was good, and while he was still partially blind, this should allow him to move around the arena without running headfirst into a pillar. Taking a cautious step forward, he felt the ground beneath him shift and he threw himself to the side. Even without [Tailwind] active, Rowan was able to dodge the spell with relative ease. A [Rock Shot] or [Earthen Spike] would be another matter entirely, but [Earthen Ripple] was a spell meant to immobilize, not harm. It traveled across the ground in a straight line, softening the hard rock and attempting to snag his feet. It took Rowan another two dodges before he felt ready to start his counterattack. Got you, he grinned. Casting [Whisper Step], a gentle breeze raised his feet off the ground. It was like walking on a cushion of air, and while it wasn¡¯t a flashy spell, it was a perfect counter for [Stone Sense]. Using the image in his mind, Rowan pinpointed exactly where his opponent was. Huon was hiding behind a pillar at the far right corner of the arena, with the dust growing more concentrated the closer Rowan got. It was a mistake on the younger mages part. One that actually helped Rowan determine his location. It¡¯s probably instinctual, he thought, slowly making his way towards him. Or a lack of control. Either way, something to point out after the fight. [Whisper Step] hid him from Huon¡¯s tracking, but it was only a matter of time before the younger mage changed his approach. And Rowan wanted to end the duel before that happened. When he was two pillars away, he made his move. With as much speed as he was capable of, Rowan cast [Burning Whip], a tendril of flame erupting from his back. Another joined soon after, and before Huon could react, Rowan lashed out. One moved left while the other moved to the right, wrapping around the pillar and the person using it for cover. Rowan felt his spells connect with the arena¡¯s protective bubble, quickly followed by a surprised yelp. If this was a real fight, that would have been a killing blow. But this was a spar, so instead of squeezing the life out of the kid, Rowan just held him in place until Tremil stopped the bout. ¡°Enough!¡± a voice boomed out as a large [Gust] blew away the dust clouding the air, clearing the arena. Rowan quickly retracted his spells, a satisfied smile on his face. The spar hadn¡¯t taken long, but it told him enough about Huon¡¯s skills as a mage. He was a capable, talented caster. It took him barely a few seconds to raise a dozen stone pillars from the ground, and the fact he¡¯d mastered [Stone Sense] so early in his Path spoke to his work ethic. Not to mention [Dust Cloud]. It¡¯s a Murmur-level spell, but its complexity is probably higher than [Tailwind]. It takes a tremendous amount of control to mimic a higher-tier affinity. ¡°Good showing, both of you,¡± the older mage said as he strode towards them. ¡°Huon, your use of [Dust Cloud] combined with [Earthen Pillar] was a great way to deal with Jamis¡¯s mobility. But you relied too much on the assumption that your opponent wouldn¡¯t have a way to deal with the lack of visibility.¡± Huon stood there, his expression a strange blend of frustration and thoughtfulness. His loss had come quickly and unexpectedly, and the boy was still dealing with it. Rowan thought about gloating, but that would make the kid like him even less. So instead, he walked up to him and extended a hand. ¡°It was a good fight,¡± he said sincerely. ¡°I can see why your master puts up with you.¡± Huon snorted, shaking his hand. ¡°Thanks¡­ I guess.¡± He glanced at him for a moment before looking away, as if debating whether to ask something. ¡°How¡¯d you do it?¡± he finally asked. Rowan frowned. ¡°Do what?¡± Huon waved his arms around. ¡°Everything! [Earthen Pillar] and [Dust Cloud] didn¡¯t slow you down in the slightest. You were moving around like you knew exactly where you had to go, and not to mention you outright disappeared from my senses, then somehow managed to find me five seconds later!¡± Once again, Rowan had the urge to gloat, but the questions he¡¯d asked him were valid, and the answers could help the boy improve. He¡¯s going to be fighting shamans too. Helping him is helping everyone else too. Taking a moment, Rowan composed his thoughts. ¡°When I jumped over the wall I had a view of the arena,¡± he said. ¡°So when I landed, I knew where I was, and where all the pillars were. That made maneuvering around them easy.¡± Huon¡¯s eyes widened in surprise. ¡°You¡­ memorized the layout?¡± he shook his head. ¡°You weren¡¯t lying when you said you had a good memory, were you?¡± Rowan chuckled. ¡°No, I wasn¡¯t,¡± he answered. ¡°And I used [Whisper Step] to hide me from your senses. Then I found you by the direction you were sending [Earth Ripple]¡¯s from.¡± Huon''s brow furrowed in thought. ¡°Oh, and one more thing,¡± Rowan added. ¡°Your [Dust Cloud] was concentrated around you. I think it might have been instinctual, but having your camouflage be stronger near you kind of has the opposite effect.¡± They spoke some more about the duel and Rowan found himself enjoying the conversation. The boy might have been cocky, but he had a reason for it. He had a good head on his shoulders, being proud about his abilities was only natural. ¡°You could try doing that as bait,¡± Rowan said, going over the idea in his head. ¡°If you covered an area where you weren¡¯t, most people would assume the same thing I did. That you¡¯re trying to hide yourself. Then, you could ambush them.¡± Huon nodded in response. ¡°Yeah, that might work.¡± Tremil had been observing their conversation in silence, a small smile on his face. He walked over, clapping Huon on the shoulder. ¡°Go meditate, replenish your mana,¡± he looked at Rowan. ¡°Jamis and I have something to talk about.¡± The boy looked like he wanted to say something, but something in his master¡¯s tone made him reconsider. So instead, he inclined his head and went on his way, leaving the two of them alone. Tremil watched his apprentice leave, waiting until he was out of earshot to speak. ¡°I thank you for not taking his harsh exterior to heart,¡± he said with a chuckle. ¡°He is a passionate young man, and sometimes it shows in ways that those around him would wish it didn¡¯t.¡± Rowan waved off his concerns. ¡°He¡¯s just a kid,¡± he answered. ¡°And I¡¯m not nearly petty enough to hold a grudge over a few comments.¡± Tremil arched an eyebrow. ¡°You know, you¡¯re not much older than him,¡± he pointed out. Rowan shrugged. ¡°Age isn¡¯t always a measure of a life well lived or of knowledge gained.¡± he quoted, a familiar weight settling on his shoulders. ¡°Archmage Zadriel,¡± Tremil nodded slowly. ¡°A wise man.¡± Rowan tried to keep his emotions in check, leveraging [Iron Will] in order to accomplish it. The mention of his fathers name left him feeling unbalanced, and even his skill didn¡¯t stop the slight tremor in his hand. Calm, he told himself. Feel it, acknowledge it, and let it flow away. Tremil either didn¡¯t notice his emotional turmoil or decided not to mention it. But either way, Rowan felt grateful to the old mage for the consideration. He took a moment, not trusting himself to speak while dark thoughts battered at his composure. It¡¯s been a while since that last happened, Rowan thought to himself. I guess that¡¯s what I get for quoting him. He shook his head to clear it, refocusing on the present. ¡°What did you want to talk to me about?¡± ¡°The Guildmistress has called for a meeting,¡± he answered, and Rowan felt his heartbeat quicken. ¡°Tomorrow. At noon.¡± He took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders, releasing the tension from his muscles. I guess it¡¯s time. The goblin threat had been brewing for a while, and Rowan, for one, was eager to deal with it. He knew it was only a matter of time before another one took its place¡ªthe monster surge made sure of that¡ªbut right now, that didn¡¯t matter. What mattered was taking care of the problem right in front of them. ¡°The reinforcements arrived?¡± Rowan asked, a determined expression on his face. Tremil nodded. ¡°A dozen Silver-ranks, and four Orange-Core mages.¡± ¡°Four? Not two?¡± That puts us as nine casters, and around five dozen Silver-ranks. We¡¯ll still be outnumbered, but definitely less so than before. ¡°The Guildmistress called in a few favors,¡± Tremil answered. A contemplative silence settled over them. They both knew this upcoming battle wouldn¡¯t be easy. There would be death, tragedy, and loss. But that was the price humanity paid in the war against the ever-encroaching Wilds. The only thing they could do was fight, endure, and hopefully, in the end, win. Chapter 46 - The Meeting Rowan stood by the wide windows of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild Hall, his arms crossed and his gaze lingering on the city beyond. The streets of Litwick were unusually quiet, a stark contrast to the normal bustle that filled the air. Word of this meeting had reached the people of the city, and they knew what it meant. The weight of the moment pressed on his shoulders as he waited for the rest of the gathering to arrive, his thoughts shifting between eagerness and anxiety. On one hand, Rowan felt ready. Yet as he recalled all the battles he¡¯d fought thus far, he couldn¡¯t remember a single one where he hadn¡¯t felt the same. And not all of them went my way, he reminded himself. The shaman almost killed me, and the Wyrmling¡¯s did too. But he¡¯d done all he could to prepare. His Fire magic was as good as it would get¡ªon par with any Orange-Core mage¡ªand his Wind magic was progressing smoothly as well. Rowan wished he¡¯d had time to master [Soar], but if his guess was correct, that wasn¡¯t likely to happen. Quinea doesn''t seem like a patient woman. We¡¯re leaving tomorrow. Or the day after that at the latest. Behind him, the hall was already filling up. The usual lively chatter replaced by a simmering tension. Adventurers of all ranks found their places around the long tables, murmuring quietly among themselves. From the seasoned Silver-ranks to the ambitious Iron-ranked teams. Rowan turned, scanning the hall. Tremil sat near the front with Huon and Tion by his side. The boy still gave Rowan the occasional side-eye, but there was an undercurrent of respect beneath the usually cocky attitude. Tion, on the other hand, gave him a calm nod, his mind seemingly focused on the upcoming meeting. The two hedge mages Rowan didn¡¯t get a chance to meet yet were sitting behind them, and judging by their robes, the first was a Wind and Earth mage, while the other had the Water and Fire affinities. Further back, Rowan spotted the newly arrived Adventurers. The aid sent from Sheercliff consisted of a dozen Silver-rank¡¯s led by a grizzled-looking man, a large axe strapped to his back. He had a long scar running down the left side of his face, but there was something about him that made Rowan feel at ease. Feeling curious, he decided to scan him.
Level: 35
Body: Silver V [30 Levels]
Core: Red [5 Levels]
Would you look at that, he smiled. Rowan was pleasantly surprised to see another caster among their number¡ªeven if he was pretty sure that the man was a warrior first, and a mage second. He glanced at the rest of his team, scanning them in turn. All of them were above Silver III, with two of them being at the peak of the rank. But his gaze was drawn to the four people sitting next to them. They were a serious-looking group, with their heads held high and haughty looks on their faces. It was an expression Rowan was familiar with. One that most often appeared on mages stuck at a bottleneck. All of them were middle-aged with their Cores on the cusp of advancing to Yellow. A hurdle not every mage managed to overcome. They were led by a lithe, sharp-eyed woman that exuded a quiet confidence. And Rowan was pretty sure it wasn¡¯t a bluff. Some people dismissed mages who failed to advance as untalented, or worse, weak. But in most cases, that couldn¡¯t be further from the truth. These four had years to hone their affinities, and just because they haven¡¯t managed to combine them yet didn¡¯t mean they were hacks. Kai nuzzled against his cheek, trilling softly. Rowan scratched his beak. ¡°You don¡¯t have to be here,¡± he said, an amused smile on his face. ¡°The meeting probably isn¡¯t going to take that long. You can go hunting if you want to.¡± His familiar settled on his shoulder. Rowan chuckled, shaking his head and moving to where the Grove sat. He pulled up a chair next to Nemir, eyeing the burly swordsman with a curious expression. Nemir glanced at him, arching an eyebrow. ¡°Is there something on my face?¡± Omi snorted. ¡°Besides that god''s awful mustache?¡± ¡°I forget to shave once, and I don¡¯t hear the end of it,¡± he muttered sullenly. ¡°I think it suits you,¡± Zoe said, her eyes flickering towards Rowan. Or more accurately, his shoulder. ¡°Mustaches were considered fashionable a few decades ago.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not the compliment you think it is, Zo,¡± Silvia added, scarfing down a bowl of stew like her life depended on it. ¡°And please don¡¯t encourage him. He¡¯s going to take it to heart and then we¡¯ll be stuck looking at that domesticated caterpillar over his lips for who knows how long.¡± Nemir sighed. ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry about that,¡± he said, rubbing his mustache. ¡°As soon as this meeting is over, I¡¯m chopping it off.¡± Rowan couldn¡¯t keep the smile off his face, the simmering tension slowly leaving his shoulders. ¡°I was going to ask how your Aura training went,¡± he said, leaning back against his chair. ¡°You¡¯ve been holed up in your room for the last week, and I didn¡¯t manage to catch you yesterday. Have you gotten close?¡± Nemir¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°Yes,¡± he said firmly. ¡°I need one fight against a hobgoblin, and I¡¯ll get it.¡± Rowan wasn¡¯t surprised. Nemir got close to advancing during the goblin quest, and with his improved understanding, it was only a matter of time before he finally managed it. His friend would become a Silver-rank during this battle, Rowan was sure of it. Suddenly, the heavy wooden doors at the end of the hall opened, and Quinea strode in. Silence fell. The Guildmistress moved with purpose, her hand casually resting on the pommel of her sword. There was an air of seriousness about her, like a lead blanket falling over the room. Rowan looked around, seeing the various Silver-rank¡¯s quieting down. Quinea strode to the center of the room and her gaze swept over the assembled Adventurers, with everyone it landed on straightening in their seats. She didn¡¯t waste any time. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! ¡°Two days,¡± she began, her voice breaking the silence. ¡°That¡¯s how long we have until we march out. We¡¯re not waiting for the goblins to amass a larger force. We¡¯re going to hit them first, and we¡¯re going to hit them hard.¡± A murmur spread through the hall at her blunt proclamation. Two days wasn¡¯t a lot of time, but it was still better than the one Rowan had expected. Quinea raised a hand. ¡°If we wait, we¡¯ll face an enemy too large and too organized to handle,¡± her words silenced the crowd. ¡°Right now, only their strongest members are there. With the rest of their number journeying through the Wilds to join them. We give them time, and their Warchief will have rallied every goblin in the region.¡± Before anyone could interject, she continued. ¡°We¡¯ll march and strike them before they can organize. This is going to be dangerous. We¡¯ll be outnumbered and fighting against an enemy in a possibly fortified position, but we¡¯ll have the element of surprise on our side.¡± Rowan knew that last part was only to stem the rising panic of the assembled Iron-ranks, but he didn¡¯t begrudge the Guildmistress''s white lies. The goblins would know there was an attack coming. Their scouts would see a group this large approaching from miles out. They wouldn¡¯t have days to prepare, but even a few minutes negated the advantage of a surprise attack. This would be a hard fight, yet the other option was to wait for their opponents to drown the city in bodies. While the walls of Litwick weren¡¯t weak, they were never meant to repel a threat of this size. She glanced around the room. ¡°Sheercliff has sent us sixteen of their finest to aid in the battle,¡± her eyes landing on the reinforcements. ¡°Laith Dewhorn leads their warriors, and Mage Velora their casters.¡± The two Adventurers inclined their heads in greeting. ¡°It will be an honor to fight besides you all,¡± the tall, weathered-looking man said. ¡°With our combined forces, those goblins won¡¯t know what hit them.¡± Quinea¡¯s gaze moved across the room. ¡°Our goal is simple,¡± she said, her voice cutting through the murmur of the assembled crowd. ¡°We¡¯ll be focusing our firepower on taking out their leadership. Without the head to guide them, the goblins will scatter.¡± She pointed at herself, ¡°I¡¯ll be fighting the Warchief, while Mage Tremil focuses on the Warlock,¡± her eyes landed on Rowan. ¡°And Mage Jamis will deal with the apprentice.¡± Rowan forced his expression to stay relaxed as every adventurer in the room turned to look at him. He could see the confused looks the mages from Sheercliff sent him, likely wondering why he¡¯d been chosen. A moment later, Mage Velora spoke up, ¡°Him?¡± she asked incredulously. ¡°He¡¯s barely a man grown,¡± she pointed out. ¡°That task should fall to someone capable of completing it.¡± Rowan wanted to speak up, but he knew that¡¯d be the wrong move. His word carried little weight to them, and whatever he said would be seen as nursing his wounded pride. And it wasn¡¯t like he faulted her for the question. She knew nothing about him besides the fact he wasn¡¯t a peak Orange-Core mage. Something that at his age was either a mark of laziness, or of negligence. Both of which were traits you didn¡¯t want in the person tasked with taking out the third strongest member of the goblin tribe you were set on fighting. Thankfully, there were people whose words did carry weight that answered her question for him. Quinea¡¯s gaze settled on the mage, her eyes sharp. ¡°Yes,¡± she said firmly. ¡°Mage Jamis has proven his skill, and in my humble opinion, he¡¯s the best person for the job.¡± The woman bristled at that, but Tremil spoke before he could say anything. ¡°I agree,¡± he said, his voice calm. ¡°I¡¯ve seen him fight, and besides myself, I would say he has the greatest chance of victory against this foe.¡± The adventurers that had watched his duel against Killian all nodded, and Rowan felt pride bubble up in his chest. It was deeply gratifying to see his strength acknowledged. These people were trusting him with their lives. Trusting him to take out his opponent before it could threaten the rest of the raiding party. It was the same trust they put in Quinea, and the same trust they put in Tremil. Rowan¡¯s determination grew. He had no plans of letting them down. Before the conversation could be derailed further, Quinea continued, her attention settling on the Silver-ranked adventurers. ¡°The rest of you will be dealing with the hobgoblins. There are around two hundred of them, and only five dozen of you, so don¡¯t underestimate them,¡± she said firmly. ¡°They¡¯ll be using pack tactics¡ªfighting in groups, overwhelming anyone they can isolate. You¡¯ll need to work together.¡± Rowan scanned their faces. They looked unfazed, but there was an edge of tension behind each and every one of their eyes. These men and women spend their entire lives fighting against everything the Wilds could throw at them. This wasn¡¯t their first life or death battle, and it wouldn¡¯t be the last. They knew the odds, but they also knew the stakes. Quinea¡¯s voice grew sharper as she addressed the Iron-ranks, ¡°As for the Iron teams, you¡¯ll be dealing with the regular goblins. But don¡¯t think for a second that they¡¯re easy to kill. They¡¯ll come at you in waves, and while each one might be weak on its own, a goblin tribe''s strength has always been their numbers. Your job is to hold the line, keep them from reinforcing the hobgoblins, and support the Silver-ranks where needed.¡± Rowan felt Annie stiffen next to him, and the rest of the team didn¡¯t look much different. With Nemir at the peak of his rank, and with the gear he¡¯d given them on top of that, the Crimson Grove was the strongest Iron¨Crank team in Litwick. Of that, Rowan was sure. So it was completely understandable that they didn¡¯t want to be stuck fighting normal goblins while there were stronger opponents close by. Not to mention we have the only true healer in the whole raid, Rowan thought, glancing at Zoe. Priest Aegar was also at the meeting, but there was no way he¡¯d be joining them in the raid. And the same went for the rest of the clergy. Followers of Eldara weren¡¯t fighters. Which didn¡¯t mean they weren¡¯t capable of defending themselves, but going on the offensive wasn¡¯t their forte. ¡°The mages will provide support,¡± Quinea said, turning towards Velora, ¡°Mage Velora will lead you, but you¡¯ll each have your roles,¡± she addressed the remaining casters. ¡°Most of you will focus on countering the shamans, but keep in mind that the warriors might need your help. Your job isn¡¯t to kill all of them, it¡¯s to keep our people alive.¡± Velora gave a slight nod, her earlier frustration at being overlooked fading away, ¡°It shall be done,¡± she said, her eyes steely. ¡°Not a single spell shall land on them while we hold the line.¡± Rowan¡¯s gaze moved to the two brothers sitting besides Tremil. Tion looked strangely calm, but Huon was a mix of excitement and nervousness. His hands fidgeted like he was aching to cast, and Rowan hoped the boy understood the seriousness of the situation. Quinea took a deep breath, straightening up, looking every inch the determined Guildmistress, ¡±This fight won¡¯t be easy,¡± her voice boomed out. ¡°Many of you have fought goblins before, but this is different. We¡¯re not dealing with small raiding parties. This is an organized tribe with a Warchief, a Warlock, and a cohort of shamans coordinating the attack. We need to be ready for everything.¡± There was a brief moment of silence before one of the Silver-ranks, a wiry man with a rapier strapped to his hip, spoke up. ¡°What¡¯s the plan if we fail? If the Warchief isn¡¯t killed and we¡¯re forced to retreat?¡± Quinea¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°If that happens, we will fall back to Litwick and make our last stand here. But,¡± she said, her voice like adamant, ¡°we don¡¯t plan for failure. Our goal is to strike hard, strike fast, and cripple them before they can react. If we succeed, the tribe will fall into chaos, and we¡¯ll have a chance to finish them off.¡± Rowan thoughts raced, imagining the battle that awaited them. They would be marching into enemy territory, outnumbered, and with no choice but to win. Yet it was hard not to feel excited. This was exactly what he¡¯d been training for¡ªwhat he¡¯d been working towards ever since he¡¯d Awakened. He was a mage of House Athlain. The Duke of Eiselyth. The last member of a bloodline that spanned millenia. This fight wouldn¡¯t be his end. He¡¯d make sure of that. ¡°And what about supplies?¡± a voice from the back asked, a younger adventurer who looked barely older than twenty. ¡°Potions, rations, anything we¡¯ll need for a prolonged fight?¡± ¡°The preparations are already under way, and will be finished by the time we¡¯re ready to march,¡± Quinea replied. ¡°The Guild will provide as many supplies as we can spare. Potions are being brewed by what few alchemists we have, and the blacksmiths are working to repair and reinforce our gear. Anything we can do to increase our chances of victory, we will.¡± ¡°And after two days?¡± another voice called out. ¡°What happens if we¡¯re not ready?¡± Quinea¡¯s gaze grew steely. ¡°We march. Ready or not, we don¡¯t have the luxury of waiting. Every second we waste is one the goblins are going to use to dig in further and bolster their numbers.¡± Rowan clenched his fists, feeling the weight of her words. The battle was coming, and there was no changing that. They had two days to prepare, two days to gather everything they needed, two days to get ready for a battle that could spell the end of Litwick and all those who called it their home. ¡°Use this time wisely,¡± Quinea said, her tone final. ¡°Train. Prepare your minds and your bodies. Because once we leave, there¡¯s no turning back.¡± The hall was quiet as she finished, the tension in the air thick. But so was the resolve. Each and every person here had faced death before. They knew what was at stake, and they were ready to fight tooth and nail to win against this foe. As the meeting began to break up, adventurers talking in low tones as they strategized, Rowan found himself deep in thought. He¡¯d done all he could to prepare. He¡¯d outfitted his friends in the best gear he had access to, and mastered what few spells he had time to master. Now, the only thing left to do was wait. Chapter 47 - Knights & Robbers Rowan and the rest of the Grove sat in silence, a heavy atmosphere draped over the room. There was tension simmering just beneath the surface, with both Silvia and Omi looking like they were on the cusp of drawing their weapons. Silvia was the first to move, her hand coming up in one fluid motion, slamming her cards against the table. ¡°Three towers and two archers,¡± she said, her eyes narrowed. ¡°I got you beat.¡± Omi sighed, leaning back in his chair. ¡°Damn, that¡¯s a good hand,¡± he muttered, running a hand through his hair. Silvia¡¯s smile widened, but as she reached for the chips, Omi stopped her. ¡°Whoa, hold on there,¡± he said with an insufferable smirk. ¡°I said it was a good hand, not that you won.¡± He turned over his cards to reveal four casters. A hand he had no business having considering they already discarded two of them. ¡°Has anyone ever told you you¡¯re a shit gambler?¡± he said, adding to his ever growing pile of chips. ¡°Maybe we can play marbles? You¡¯d probably be decent at that.¡± Silvia abruptly stood up, her chair clattering to the ground as she pointed an accusatory finger at the rogue. ¡°You¡¯re cheating!¡± Omi arched an eyebrow, ¡°I mean, duh,¡± he said with zero shame. ¡°That¡¯s like, half the fun.¡± Rowan tried to suppress a laugh, but judging by the scowl Silvia threw his way, he didn¡¯t manage it. ¡°I¡¯m done,¡± she said, turning around and stomping over to the couch. ¡°Scoundrels and thugs, the lot of you.¡± She plopped down next to Zoe, muttering, ¡°I hate card games,¡± under her breath. ¡°Oh, come on!¡± Omi laughed. ¡°It¡¯s barely been five hands!¡± Annie gathered the cards and shuffled them again. ¡°Bottom deal on your last two casters,¡± she pointed out, adding a plus one to her tally sheet. Knight¡¯s and Robbers was a game Rowan had played when he was little. You could gain points by actually winning a hand, or by calling out how a player cheated. Annie and Omi were the best at it by a mile, with Annie catching him most of the time, and Omi using [Quick Hands] to bully him and Nemir while she was dealing. The two of them were playing mostly for their benefit, but neither of them seemed to mind. This was exactly what they needed right now. Because tomorrow morning, the goblin raid started. The day after the meeting passed in a blur of activity and last minute plans. Rowan had gone over his spells a dozen times, cycling through them to have them fresh in his mind during the battle. Spells: Whisper - [Flash], [Heat], [Ignite], [Ember Spray], [Burning Hands] Murmur - [Firebolt], [Fire Shield], [Burning Whip] Chant - [Fireball] Hymn - [/] Aria - [/] Ode - [/] Epic - [/] Spells: Whisper - [Gust] Murmur - [Feather Fall], [Whisper Step], [Tailwind] Chant - [/] Hymn - [/] Aria - [/] Ode - [/] Epic - [/] He probably wouldn¡¯t be using [Burning Hands] or [Ember Spray], but it was best to be prepared. It was a practice Rowan hadn¡¯t had the time to do lately, his hours occupied by different goals. In the last month alone, he¡¯d managed to master [Firebal], advance his body and gain a skill, advance his Core and gain an affinity, and finally, master four other spells for that affinity. Rowan fought a shaman, a pack of Wyrmlings, and a greedy Silver-rank. All battles that pushed him to grow stronger. Let¡¯s just hope things calm down after this fight, he thought, looking at his hand. Rowan set down two spears and Annie handed him two more cards. I could really use a month or two of peace. He had so many things he wanted¡ªand needed¡ªto do. Mastering another Chant was high on his list of priorities, along with working on his Core. And not to mention advancing his body¡ªbecause gaining another skill like [Iron Will] would be a massive boon¡ªand figuring out what was going on with his trait. All in all, a packed schedule. The way he defeated the Wyrmlings was a question Rowan desperately wanted answered. He had a feeling that if he uncovered what that was, it would catapult him along his Path. The trait was given to him by the System, and one as powerful as [Immortal Soul] definitely did more than just let him advance quicker. But doing that would¡ªweirdly¡ªleave his soul injured. Something Rowan couldn¡¯t really afford with all the things that have been going on. After cycling his spells, he¡¯d decided to pay a visit to the Guildmistress. Something had been bothering him since the meeting. One of the younger adventurers had asked her about supplies, and she answered that the few alchemists they had were brewing potions and that their smiths were repairing equipment. Both of which were things Rowan could help with. So he donated ten crates of healing potions and a few dozen sets of uncommon rarity weapons and armor. If he wanted to, he could equip the entire city in gear on par with the Grove and not even notice the loss. But that was something Rowan wasn¡¯t comfortable doing for a multitude of reasons. The weapons weren¡¯t anything special, but they would be an improvement over what some of the Iron-rank adventurers wielded. They were made out of quality materials and decently forged. Not the enchanted pieces his friends wore, but good nonetheless. The potions were the real eyecatcher. They were Rare, and most likely better than anything the alchemists in Litwick could brew. Quinea hadn¡¯t said anything about their grade, instead simply thanking him for the contribution and promising not to share where they came from. Rowan was fine with that. She already thought he was a noble. Or if not that, the disciple of a fairly powerful mage¡ªlike he¡¯d told Tremil. But those two were almost always connected, so it wasn¡¯t a surprising assumption. Not that keeping that particular secret mattered all that much. The thing he couldn¡¯t do was reveal exactly who he was. Noble scions sent out to gain life experience weren¡¯t common, but they weren¡¯t really scarce either. Rowan was sure Nemir was one, and he had a feeling Annie was going through something similar. He wasn¡¯t positive if she was Quinea¡¯s actual niece, or her goddaughter, but the fact stood that she had a connection with one of the strongest people in the city. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. A connection she used mostly for gossip. ¡°So,¡± she said, placing down six cards on the table. ¡°I heard you felt charitable today.¡± ¡°Yeah, well, I''d very much prefer it if we won tomorrow,¡± Rowan said, throwing in some chips, not really following the game. Annie nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face. ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll help.¡± The hand finished and Omi dealt the next one. ¡°I could have given more,¡± Rowan said after a moment, voicing his thoughts. It wasn¡¯t like him giving a few more crates would have been enough to narrow down his lineage. But even still, he¡¯d hesitated. Most likely, there was nobody looking for him. He¡¯d been a forgotten piece long before his family fell. And with the way he left Eiselyth, his apparent death probably hadn¡¯t even registered to the people in power. But Rowan had grown up around those kinds of people, and he knew exactly what they were capable of. Without even mentioning those responsible for the demon summoning, his [Title] alone made him a target for almost every other Great House. The lands they ¡®claimed¡¯ were rightfully his. As proclaimed by the System. If a Blue-Core mage made it their mission to locate him, there was a definite chance they could accomplish that task¡ªwhich most definitely wouldn¡¯t end well for him. His greatest protection against that happening was the sheer remoteness of Litwick. In a region as weak as the Verdant Plains, it took months for news to spread. Rowan wasn¡¯t sure why he¡¯d mentioned it in the first place. Drawing attention to it went completely opposite of what he should be doing. But with the battle looming, he felt a need to open up. The people in this room were the closest thing he had to a home, yet they barely knew anything about him. And in turn, he barely knew anything about them. There was a chance one of them¡ªor gods forbid more than one¡ªdidn¡¯t make it through tomorrow. Omi stopped shuffling, and Annie snatched the deck out of his hand. ¡°Well if you didn¡¯t do it, you obviously had a reason,¡± she said casually. ¡°Besides, you gave plenty. Those potions are going to save lives. And the gear too.¡± Shuffling the deck, she placed it on the center of the table. ¡°All of you suck at knights and robbers, we¡¯re playing something else.¡± Before anyone could protest, Annie dealt each of them a single card, including Zoe and Silvia. ¡°Sit down,¡± she called out to the duo. ¡°All of us need to play this.¡± Zoe scooped Kai off her lap and sat down, the little menace practically unconscious in her arms after she fed him another one of her pellets. Silvia followed suit, a suspicious expression on her face. ¡°Are you going to cheat in this one too?¡± she asked, glancing at her card. ¡°Because if so, I don¡¯t want to play.¡± Annie rolled her eyes. ¡°No cheating, promise.¡± Rowan wasn¡¯t sure where she was going with this, but he was curious to find out. ¡°What exactly are we playing?¡± he asked, picking up his card. ¡°Simple,¡± Annie said, an eager glint in her eyes. ¡°The person with the lowest value card has to answer a question.¡± Rowan¡¯s breath hitched, and his first instinct was to throw the card away and go for a long walk. Preferably one long enough that by the time he came back, they¡¯d all be asleep. But he stopped himself. [Iron Will] flared and the slight tremor in his hand subsided. Wasn¡¯t this exactly what he wanted? A chance to get to know these people he¡¯d come to consider his friends, and a chance for them to get to know him in turn? I trust them, Rowan told himself. And I want them to trust me. Taking a deep breath, he flipped open his card. ¡°Warrior,¡± Rowan said quietly, feeling a weight being lifted off his shoulder. ¡°Caster,¡± Omi smirked, following suit. Annie turned hers over. ¡°Swords.¡± Silvia peaked at her card, a grin spreading across her face. ¡°Archer!¡± she said, slapping it onto the table. Zoe turned hers over with a calm, deliberate motion, her expression unchanged. ¡°Wands.¡± Nemir looked at his and sighed. ¡°Daggers,¡± he muttered, glancing around the table. ¡°I guess that means I lose?¡± ¡°Yup,¡± Annie said, gathering the cards back up. ¡°Omi had the high card, so he gets to ask the question.¡± Rowan found himself leaning forward, eager to hear what the rogue wanted answered. He tried not to think about what the question would have been if he¡¯d lost the hand, instead focusing on the curiosity swelling up within him. Omi rubbed his chin, really thinking about it. ¡°Where are you from?¡± he finally asked. Annie arched an eyebrow and Silvia leaned forward, eagerly rubbing her hands. ¡°Uuu, good question.¡± Omi smirked, tapping his temple. ¡°So, let¡¯s hear it,¡± he said, his eyes moving to Nemir. ¡°Place of birth, big fella.¡± He ran a hand through his short brown hair, leaning back against his chair. ¡°The Duchy of Reyes,¡± he said with a small, satisfied smile. ¡°Place of birth, not where I¡¯m from,¡± he pointed out. ¡°I get to choose which question I answer if he asks two, right?¡± he asked, glancing at Annie. She shrugged, ¡°Makes sense.¡± Rowan chuckled, feeling the tension drain away. Treating this like a game made everything so much easier, and slowly, he let [Iron Will] drop. Silvia smacked Omi¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Idiot. You messed it up. We got nothing from that.¡± ¡°You literally just said it was a good question,¡± he muttered. ¡°Make up your mind.¡± Rowan¡¯s brows furrowed, recalling the hours he¡¯d spent studying the different regions of the Kingdom and who ruled them. That¡¯s the Hollowspire Glade. But I don¡¯t think he¡¯s a Duke¡¯s son. Probably an Earl, or maybe a Count. There were only seven Great Houses in the Kingdom of Vandral, and Rowan doubted Nemir belonged to one of them. ¡°Alright, next hand,¡± Annie said before he could think too deeply about it, forcing him to focus on the moment. Rowan had a feeling he¡¯d find out soon enough either way, and there were other questions he was curious to hear answered. He peeked at his card, feeling both relieved and slightly disappointed at what he saw. A rogue wasn¡¯t the strongest, but it beat most of the deck. Rowan probably wouldn¡¯t be getting asked this turn, and when they flipped their cards, Zoe won with a knight while Omi only had a bow, leaving him last. Her brows furrowed in thought, ¡°I can ask anything?¡± Annie opened her mouth to answer, but Omi beat her to it. ¡°Yes!¡± ¡°Hells no!¡± Silvia pointed a finger at him. ¡°No. Cheating.¡± He spread his arms. ¡°What? She asked a question, and I answered it. Those are the rules.¡± ¡°Boo!¡± Rowan said loudly. Annie picked up a stray nut and threw it at him. ¡°She asked me, not you. And now you got a penalty for being an asshole. Zoe gets to ask you two questions.¡± ¡°Whoa,¡± Omi raised his hands placatingly. ¡°No need to be hasty.¡± ¡°Too late,¡± she shrugged, glancing at Zoe. ¡°Make it something embarrassing, please.¡± Her expression hadn¡¯t changed, her brows still furrowed. She took another ten seconds before she nodded, seemingly satisfied with her choice. Zoe looked at Omi. ¡°Why do you chew with your mouth open? And could you please stop?¡± For a moment, nobody said anything. Then Rowan burst out laughing, quickly followed by Silvia, with Nemir and Annie not far behind. Omi seemed taken aback, and he quickly looked away, coughing into his hand. The rogue was actually embarrassed, which only made them laugh louder. ¡°I didn¡¯t know I did that,¡± he muttered. ¡°And¡­ I guess?¡± Zoe nodded, returning her focus back to petting Kai. Rowan shook his head, unable to wipe the smile off his face. The night progressed smoothly after that. After a few more hands, they pulled out a cask of ale. Playing and talking. As it turned out, Annie was Quinea¡¯s goddaughter, with her mother being the Guildmistress''s teammate while they were younger. Silvia came from the Evershade Glade, the region north of Litwick. Omi was born in Tumbleton. Zoe in the Moonveil Basin. On and on it went, with some questions unveiling more of the people Rowan had grown so close to, while others just made him laugh. When Nemir¡¯s turn came up again, he revealed that he was a member of House Al¡¯Kalat. The fourth son of the current Count. He even showed off his [Title], all the while having a completely relaxed expression on his face. And why wouldn¡¯t he be relaxed? None of them were going to go spreading it around. A few hands later, the inevitable finally happened. Rowan¡¯s streak of face cards came to an end when he drew a dagger. The rest of them turned over their cards one after another, and Annie ended up winning the hand with another knight. He took a deep breath, steadying himself for whatever words came out of her mouth. Annie crossed her arms, looking at him with a thoughtful frown. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± she finally asked. Rowan¡¯s eyes widened, the question catching him off guard. He¡¯d expected something¡­ heavier. Whether it be his House, his trait, or what the ring on his finger really was. There were so many things he was keeping hidden that being asked something so simple momentarily stunned him. ¡°I¡­¡± he shook his head, glancing around the table. There was a curiosity in their eyes, and he found himself answering before he could overthink it. ¡°Rowan,¡± he said, the lead blanket perpetually draped over his shoulders finally falling away. ¡°My name is Rowan.¡± Silvia tilted her head, looking at him appraisingly. ¡°I like it,¡± she said after a few seconds of thought. ¡°It suits you way better than Jamis, that¡¯s for damn sure.¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad.¡± he chuckled, a small smile gracing his face. ¡°It¡¯d be kind of awkward if you like my fake name more than my real one.¡± Annie dealt another hand, and that was that. No fanfare. No lingering looks. As the game continued, Rowan allowed himself to savor the calmness of the moment. He pushed away his concerns for tomorrow, and his concerns for after that as well. Right now, Rowan was simply enjoying himself. Playing a card game with his friends while having a few drinks. Nothing more. Nothing less. Chapter 48 - Setting Out It was still dark out when the assembled forces of Litwick left the protection of the city walls, just over three hundred of them in all. Rowan stood among the contingent of mages¡ªeleven of them total¡ªyet only nine of them would be engaging the shamans. Their job wasn¡¯t to win, but to delay. To hold back the enemy casters so the rest of their troops didn¡¯t die to spells they had no way of countering. Five dozen Silver-ranks made up the tip of their assault¡ªthe blade that would clash with the hundreds of hobgoblins waiting for them. There was an air of calmness about them. In the way they moved. In the way they held themselves. These were seasoned adventurers, one and all, ready for the fight ahead. Their leader¡ªthe axe-wielding adventurer from Sheercliff¡ªstood at the front with Quinea. They talked in low tones, occasionally glancing back at the column, their expression unreadable as they discussed strategy. Behind the Silver-ranks came the bulk of their forces. The Iron-ranked adventurers, numbering just over two hundred. The clink of their mismatched armor and weapons echoed in the predawn light, and Rowan could see the nervousness they tried to hide etched on their features. It was in the way they glanced around, gripping their weapons as if expecting an attack to come at any minute. Some were still young¡ªbarely older than the two brothers¡ªheading out to get their first real taste of combat. These men and women¡ªthese adventurers, would serve as the bulwark against the horde. Holding them off while the strongest members dealt with the true threats. At the front of the Iron-ranked contingent marched the Crimson Grove, looking every inch the capable team that Rowan knew them to be, their new gear starkly contrasting to the basic armaments of the people behind them. Nemir¡¯s enchanted greatsword hung across his back, the tip of Annie¡¯s spear gleamed as the first rays of sunlight hit it, and Silvia¡¯s bow was slung over her shoulder. Omi, on the other hand, was nowhere to be found, most likely testing out his new cloak. Annie caught Rowan¡¯s eye, giving him a firm nod. They were ready. He made sure of that. With their gear, I¡¯m pretty sure they could join the Silver-rank¡¯s and not be a hindrance, Rowan thought proudly. But I can¡¯t say I¡¯m not glad they aren¡¯t going to be a part of that particular meat grinder. They¡¯ll still be able to fight a few hobgoblins. Just not all of them at once. The Guildmistress made a choice that shouldn¡¯t have surprised him, but it did. Someone needed to lead the Iron-rank¡¯s. And with the expedition being vastly outnumbered, sparing an adventurer with an Aura just wasn¡¯t in the cards. They needed all of them to confront the hobgoblin threat, which meant the Crimson Grove would have an important task of their own. Rowan ran a hand through his hair, watching as the assembled adventurers of Litwick marched out into the Wilds. It was at once a familiar sight, and a wholly new one. Throughout his youth, Rowan had seen forces that dwarfed this one leave the safety of Eiselyth¡¯s walls. Most of those had made it back. But not all of them. Quinea interrupted his thoughts, waving him over. Rowan would be lying if he said he wasn¡¯t nervous. He¡¯d barely slept, with his mind going over everything that would, could, or might happen. Thankfully, his increased Vitality showed it¡¯s worth. Kai nuzzled against his cheek, letting out a soft trill. ¡°I know, I know,¡± Rowan sighed, scratching his beak. ¡°But it¡¯s hard not to worry.¡± His gaze flickered to the Grove, and the shakiness in his hands returned for barely a heartbeat before [Iron Will] snuffed it down. Rowan made his way through the crowd, stopping to return the greetings of a few familiar-looking adventurers as he did so. Quinea stood off to the side, talking with Laith and Velora. The man gave Rowan a polite nod when he joined them, an amicable smile on his weathered face. ¡°We¡¯ve not yet had the pleasure,¡± he said, extending a hand. ¡°Laith Dewhorn, leader of the Broken Spears.¡± Rowan shook the man¡¯s hand. ¡°Jamis, of the Crimson Grove. And this is Kai,¡± his familiar straightened up on his shoulder, flapping his wings in greeting. Laith opened his mouth to say something, but Velora beat him to it. ¡°Just Jamis?¡± she asked, her arms crossed. ¡°It is customary for a mage to introduce themselves with either their House, Master, or place of learning,¡± her brows furrowed, looking at him appraisingly for a long moment. ¡°Well?¡± Rowan suppressed a sigh. He¡¯d hoped that the animosity she felt towards him would have been dealt with by now, but it seemed that wasn¡¯t the case. Level: 25 Body: Bronze V [5 Levels] Core: Orange [20 Levels] If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. The black-haired woman was probably around thirty, and she was a peak Orange caster. It seemed she was having trouble creating her tier-two affinity, with mages her age usually already moving towards Green. Though that didn¡¯t mean she was weak. She¡¯d had years to hone her magic and learn new spells, weaving her two affinities into a cohesive whole, even if she hadn¡¯t combined them yet. It was somewhat understandable she expected to be the one to fight the apprentice. ¡°Just Jamis,¡± he smiled, keeping his expression polite. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you. Velora Lonedew, right?¡± He¡¯d asked around and found out that she was in the retinue of Lord Oslow, the ruler of Sheercliff and this region of the Verdant Vale. Litwick¡¯s mayor was appointed at his discretion. But in reality, the Guild ran the city, so it wasn¡¯t a direct vassalage. The mayor was a peak Iron bureaucrat, watching over that the right amount of taxes flowed northward. Rowan had never even seen the man, with him obviously preferring not to be surrounded by people whose job it was to kill monsters. Velora tilted her nose up, and Rowan saw a thousand pompous nobles in her expression. It was almost never pointed in his direction, but he¡¯d seen it during feasts countless times before. ¡°I¡¯m sure it is,¡± she replied. I wonder how she¡¯d react if I told her I was a Duke, Rowan thought, suppressing his amusement. But probably best not to do that. Antagonizing her didn¡¯t seem like the smart option either, so he went with flattery instead. ¡°I¡¯ve heard how talented you are, so it truly is,¡± Rowan said with as much sincerity as he could muster, slightly bowing his head. ¡°If the stories are true, I hope to be half as good as you with Wind magic once I spend more time with it.¡± She looked like a cat that caught a mouse. ¡°So you agree that I should be the one to duel the apprentice?¡± ¡°If you want to, I¡¯ll gladly exchange our tasks,¡± Rowan said. Velora looked at him with a surprised expression, but before she could say anything, he continued. ¡°But that would leave the rest of the mages without a capable leader. I¡¯m only fighting a single shaman, while you¡¯re going to be fighting against a whole cohort of them. If they¡¯re allowed to wreak havoc, the upcoming raid is as good as lost.¡± Rowan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°Our strongest mage should be there. Where you can make the most difference,¡± he glanced at Quinea. ¡°I¡¯ll follow what you decide, Guildmistress.¡± What he said wasn¡¯t even a lie. Well, except the part about her being the strongest mage. That honor went to Tremil, and Rowan wouldn¡¯t hesitate to put himself at the number two spot. He knew that might be hubris talking, but Rowan also knew that he was going to win that fight. A Warlock¡¯s apprentice wasn¡¯t going to beat him, no matter how strong. ¡°I agree with him,¡± Quinea said. ¡°We need you on the front lines. I can¡¯t have the Silver-rank¡¯s deflecting spells while fighting off the hobgoblins.¡± Refusing now would have just seemed childish, and Rowan had given her an acceptable reason to accept the seemingly ¡®lesser¡¯ post. Velora took a moment, thinking it through before nodding toward the Guildmistress. ¡°You are right,¡± she said with her head held high. ¡°It would be a dereliction of duty to do otherwise.¡± Rowan suppressed a smile. Well, that was easier than I thought it¡¯d be. Velora looked toward the group of mages standing further away, straightening out her robe. ¡°I better go speak to them,¡± she said, glancing toward Rowan. ¡°Eldric¡¯s grace.¡± Rowan nodded back, watching as the other mage strode away. Laith looked at him with a small frown. ¡°Was that a social skill?¡± he asked, his tone unamused. ¡°What? Of course not,¡± he immediately said. ¡°I only have one skill, and it definitely isn¡¯t that.¡± Seemingly unconvinced, Laith glanced at Quinea. The Guildmistress nodded. ¡°Not a social skill,¡± she confirmed, the air around them suddenly resting heavier on their shoulders. ¡°I¡¯d have noticed.¡± The feeling disappeared a moment later. Her Presence felt strong, almost like some people Rowan had grown up around. But that was to be expected. Being the leader of a city¡¯s Guild was a weighty post, no matter how remote the location. ¡°Alright then,¡± she said, breaking the silence. ¡°We¡¯ve got a day''s march ahead of us. Let¡¯s talk strategy.¡± And as the expedition ventured further into the Wilds, that was exactly what they did. . . . As night fell on the second day of their march, the contingent reached the edge of a large clearing, deciding it was time to set up camp. There had been a few fights during the day, but nothing substantial. Monsters weren¡¯t the smartest creatures around, but they weren¡¯t stupid either. They knew to avoid groups as large as this one. The day¡¯s march had been long but steady, and now that they were only a few hours away from their destination, the tension in the air was palpable. ¡°Scouts and rogues! I want a perimeter every second we¡¯re here,¡± Quinea shouted, her voice booming across the clearing. ¡°Pair up, and keep close to each other. If you see anything green, shoot it.¡± From the map she¡¯d show him, the freshly built goblin stronghold was in a valley another few hours north. So there was a distinct possibility that a raiding party would come across them during the night. Something that they¡¯d rather avoid if possible. ¡°Your team leaders should have already informed you about the watch rotation,¡± she continued. ¡°Remember, no fires. Eat your rations and try to get some rest.¡± With her speech done, the Guildmistress turned around, walking over to the one of the few tents that had been put up. Rowan watched her go, debating whether to follow. His gaze wandered over to where the Iron-ranks made camp, watching as the Grove mingled with the others. Rowan wanted nothing more than to join them, spend this last night before the battle in the company of friends. But he knew he couldn¡¯t do that. They had been given the duty of leading those men and women. To be the tip of their spear. Spending what little time they had left with those under their command was the smart thing to do. Rowan joining would only disrupt it. Sighing, he turned around and followed Quinea. Making his way through the makeshift camp, he walked by the various Silver-ranks sitting in groups. Some were chatting animatedly, not bothered in the slightest by what tomorrow may bring, while others meditated, tending to their weapons and armor, their expressions focused. Entering the tent, he was greeted by the sight of the strongest members of their force. Quinea and Tremil spoke over a map, pointing out different ways they could go about their assault. Laith sat nearby, talking with the group he¡¯d brought from Sheercliff. ¡°Ah, Jamis,¡± Tremil said as he saw him enter, waving him over. ¡°Come. We have much to discuss.¡± This was it. It was time to make their last preparations. To go over their plans, duties, and expectations. All of them knew their roles¡ªthe parts they needed to play in order to eke out a victory against a foe that was threatening to destroy their home. The stakes had never been higher. If they lost here¡ªagainst a tribe that wasn¡¯t even at full strength¡ªthen Litwick would fall. Taking a deep breath, Rowan closed the tent flap and walked in. Chapter 49 - Blizzard As dawn arrived, the assembled might of Litwick finally reached its destination. The landscape before them opened up into a valley, revealing the goblin warcamp sprawled across the rocky terrain. From their vantage point at the edge of the ridge, Rowan could see the crudely built fortifications¡ªsharpened stakes, haphazard barricades, and clusters of tents billowing in the early morning wind. Goblins milled about the camp, their shrill voices carrying on the breeze. The faint smell of smoke, unwashed bodies, and rotting food lingering in the air. Their camp stretched across the valley, sprawling and chaotic. Ramshackle tents were packed tightly together, and even this early it was filled with movement. Goblins and hobgoblins alike walked between the tents, chattering in that guttural tongue of theirs. At its center, a towering structure made of scavenged wood and bones loomed above the rest¡ªthe Warchief¡¯s tent. Farther off, near the fringes of the camp, the earth had been disturbed, forming pits that looked like training grounds or holding pens. This is it. No turning back now. Rowan took a moment to steady himself, closing his eyes and taking a deep, calming breath. There was still a lingering tension in his muscles, one that wouldn¡¯t leave no matter how centered he was. It was excitement, anxiety, anticipation and so much more all wrapped up into a single emotion. Determination. The group crouched low behind the rise, observing the camp in tense silence. The Silver-ranks had formed up in disciplined lines, while the Iron-ranks¡ªthe Grove at the front¡ªwaited just behind, ready to move at Quinea¡¯s signal. ¡°Impressive,¡± Laith muttered, his eyes narrowed as he scanned the camp. The sheer size of the goblin army was staggering. Hundreds of goblins were already here, and Rowan found himself glad they hadn¡¯t waited any longer before setting out. If this was their forward force, the full tribe would be overwhelming. ¡°Impressive, but sloppy,¡± Quinea replied in a low voice. Her sharp eyes swept across the camp, taking in every detail. ¡°They¡¯ve got numbers, but they aren¡¯t prepared for an attack.¡± ¡°Now you¡¯ve jinxed us,¡± Laith smiled, his axe gripped firmly in his calloused hands, his posture calm but focused. ¡°We stick to the plan,¡± Quinea said, turning to look at them. ¡°Tremil, you bait out the Warlock. Try to get him as far away as you can. I don¡¯t want errant spells taking anyone out.¡± Tremil nodded, his eyes already focused on the valley below. His fingers twitched, as if getting ready to cast. ¡°I¡¯ll handle him,¡± he said firmly. Rowan glanced at the mage advisor, noting the calm precision in his words. There was no doubt, no hesitance. Just a surety that the task he¡¯d been handed would be accomplished. Quinea¡¯s gaze shifted to Rowan. ¡°Once Tremil draws out the Warlock, I¡¯m going for the Warchief,¡± she said, her voice unwavering. ¡°You¡¯re with me until we reach him. Don¡¯t worry about keeping the goblins off my back. Once I engage, find the apprentice and take him out.¡± Rowan nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. ¡°Got it.¡± ¡°Laith, you follow behind. Take the Silver-ranks and keep them focused on the hobgoblins. Remember, all you have to do is stay alive long enough for us to deal with the big threats, then we can mop up together.¡± Finally, her eyes moved to Velora. ¡°I know,¡± she spoke before Quinea could. ¡°I shall take our casters and follow behind mage Tremil,¡± her eyes grew sharp. ¡°Not a single spell shall reach our men while we hold the line.¡± Glancing back, he caught Huon and Tion kneeling next to the other mages, their eyes closed in meditation. Let¡¯s hope that¡¯s true, Rowan couldn¡¯t help but think. Keeping the shamans occupied was going to be a challenge. If even a single one managed to reach the Iron-ranks, it would be a slaughter. Unlike the Silver-rank teams, they had no Aura to protect themselves against their spells. Suddenly, a guttural shout rang out from the camp below. Rowan tensed as a lone goblin scout screeched from the ramparts, raising a crooked sword into the air, pointing directly at them. ¡°They¡¯ve seen us,¡± Laith growled. Quinea didn¡¯t hesitate. She raised her spear high, signaling the attack. ¡°Tremil, now,¡± she ordered calmly. The old mage didn¡¯t need to be told twice. He stood up to his full height, his robe billowing as he muttered a Hymn. Ice-cold air swirled around him as a massive amount of mana erupted into the sky. Snow fell. Within moments, a howling blizzard materialized, descending onto the goblin camp like an unstoppable force of nature. Snow and ice raged through the valley, rushing towards their walls. Rowan found himself watching the spell in awe, his eyes wide in appreciation. As the blizzard reached the camp, ripping through the crudely erected walls and freezing the goblins that stood atop them, another presence made itself known. A booming voice echoed across the battlefield, speaking in a deep, guttural rasp. Dust began to rise from the ground, swirling and twisting as it collided with the snowstorm. It clung to the air, forming a barrier of dirt and stone that shielded the goblin forces from Tremil¡¯s icy onslaught. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. Rowan¡¯s gaze locked onto the figure at the far side of the camp, standing atop the large central tent. The Warlock. Clad in rough robes, with dust and earth swirling around him, he raised his arms, pushing back against Tremil¡¯s [Blizzard]. ¡°NOW!¡± Quinea shouted, and every adventurer answered her call. Knowing he had to be quick¡ªin more ways than one¡ªRowan cast [Tailwind]. Mana rushed from his Core, wrapping around him as the spell manifested. Suddenly, they were moving, running down the slope as fast as their legs could carry them. Quinea stood at the front, moving like a goddess of war, her golden Aura engulfing her body. Tremil and the mages veered off to the side, moving away and taking the two storms with them, leaving an exposed goblin camp in their wake. Shouts filled the air as the Iron and Silver-ranks moved behind them¡ªa wave that promised blood and toil. Rowan found himself following after Quinea, barely keeping up even with the boost [Tailwind] gave him. His heart beat like a wardrum, hands pumping furiously at his sides. Everything was happening so quickly that he didn¡¯t have time to hesitate, he didn¡¯t have time to feel his nervousness rising. All he felt was the soft dirt compacting beneath his feet with each furious step. Before he knew it, they reached the ruined walls. Quinea moved like a blur, her spear flashing as she cut through the goblins standing in their path. They fell in droves. Each one that got close having its life ended with ruthless precision. Rowan followed, weaving through the destruction she left in her wake, barely managing to hold himself back from casting. His task wasn¡¯t to deal with the normal goblins, and for the fight ahead, he would need every drop of mana available to him. The first wave of adventurers wasn¡¯t far behind, reaching the camp as a force of hobgoblins rushed to meet them. He could see the Crimson Grove cutting through the lesser goblins with ease, their new gear already showing its worth. Turning them from a capable team into a deadly force. Nemir, wielding his greatsword carved through a goblin that jumped in his path, the enchanted blade crackling as it released a small burst of lighting. Silvia¡¯s arrows flew through the air, each one glowing with a faint light, striking with deadly accuracy. Omi stood off to the side, striking from stealth and dealing lingering wounds to anything in front of him. He couldn¡¯t see Annie, but Rowan didn¡¯t have time to look for her. He had his task, and they had theirs. The best way to help them was by getting it done. The last thing he saw before they left them behind was the collective Auras of the assembled Silver-ranks spring to life, illuminating the battlefield in a fierce glow. Rowan¡¯s attention snapped forward as they reached the center of the camp. The massive tent looming in front of them. Yet it wasn¡¯t the tent that caught his eye, but who stood in front of it. The Warchief was a towering figure, taller than even the hobgoblins that stood around him. His skin was a mottled green, and he was clad in thick armor made from what Rowan assumed were the bones of his enemies. In his hand, he held a warhammer that would tower over Rowan, its iron head darkened by blood. Level: 46 Body: Gold III [42 Levels] Core: N/A There was a feeling of savagery that exuded from the monster, and it had nothing to do with its Gold-ranked Aura of Strength. Next to him were four hobgoblins, each one staring at them with murder in their eyes. Level: 24 Body: Silver III [24 Levels] Core: N/A Level: 30 Body: Silver V [30 Levels] Core: N/A Level: 27 Body: Silver IV [27 Levels] Core: N/A Level: 27 Body: Silver IV [27 Levels] Core: N/A Quinea wasted no time. With a [War Cry], she charged the Warchief and his entourage, her glowing spear decapitating a stunned hobgoblin before the rest could react. An enraged growl erupted from deep within the Warchief¡¯s throat, and he moved quicker than Rowan¡¯s eyes could follow. But thankfully, Quinea had no such problems. She dodged back, deflecting the descending hammer with a swipe of her spear. The force of the impact sent shockwaves through the air, cracking the ground beneath their feet. The two combatants locked eyes, sizing each other up. ¡°Go,¡± Quinea said as she casually sliced the hand off another hobgoblin. ¡°Find the apprentice.¡± Rowan did as he was told, sending a quick [Firebolt] at one of the hobgoblins as he went. It didn¡¯t kill the monster, but by dodging out of the way it opened itself up to a strike from Quinea, leaving only one guard left. He pushed the thoughts of her battle to the back of his mind. The Warchief was a rank higher than her, but Rowan was sure it wouldn¡¯t have an easy time with the Guildmistress of Litwick. In a way, she reminded him of the people he grew up around¡ªthe Mythril and Ebony-ranked adventurers his family employed. There was an air about her. In the way she moved, in the way she carried herself. She¡¯ll be fine, he told himself. Focus on yourself. His eyes scanned the battlefield, knowing his opponent had to be somewhere close by. The Warlock wouldn¡¯t have left the Warchief without a caster by his side. Thankfully, he didn¡¯t need to wait long before the apprentice showed himself. A spike of Dust shot out from a nearby tent, heading straight for Quinea. Rowan didn¡¯t even have time to call out before she swiped it out of the air with the hilt of her spear, not even sparing it a glance. Rowan felt a surge of adrenaline shoot through him, his eyes narrowing. This was it. His duel had finally come. [Tailwind] was still active, and Rowan ran towards the tent as fast as he could, pushing every point of Dexterity he had to its limit. As he closed the distance, he finally saw his adversary. The goblin was smaller than the Warchief by half, an ugly brand marking its already scarred face. Its skin was a dark, almost burnt brown with eyes that gleamed with malicious intent. The apprentice wore a tattered robe, and in its hand it held a staff made of twisted black wood, etched with enchantments. It didn¡¯t take long for the apprentice to notice him, its beady eyes narrowing in what might have been surprise. There was a flash of recognition, but Rowan didn¡¯t give it any time to react. A [Fireball] formed in his hand, the magic circuit feeling more familiar than ever. Rowan didn¡¯t stop, he didn¡¯t hesitate. He knew this would be a fight of speed and precision, and he couldn¡¯t afford to let the apprentice gain the upper hand. Especially considering it had a tier-two affinity. Rowan imbued his Intent, pushing away the fact he was fighting a Yellow-Core caster. [Iron Will] empowered it even further, letting him pack more mana into the spell that he had any right to. His opponent seemed to notice the change, and as Rowan finally released the [Fireball], the apprentice slammed his staff into the ground, a dome of earth and rock erupting from the ground to cover him. This would be a test of everything he¡¯d learned in the last few months. It would push him to the limit more than his duel against Killian had, more than his fight against the Wyrmlings. But Rowan was ready, and he had no plans on letting his opponent leave this clearing alive. Chapter 50 - The Plan The battlefield was a cacophony of sounds¡ªscreams, the ringing of steel against steel, and the guttural cries of goblins that cut through the air like a blade. Nemir¡¯s sword felt heavy in his grip, each swing sending jolts up his arm as it carved through flesh and bone. Yet he¡¯d never felt stronger. The Stormbreaker Greatsword reaped a life with each strike, the blade crackling with lightning as it did so. While his armor¡ªthe gleaming silver plate that could have been a family heirloom for most, the one his friend has so casually gifted to him¡ªprotected him from retaliation. [Guardian¡¯s Fortitude] was not an enchantment he¡¯d heard off before, but at this moment, he didn¡¯t know how he¡¯d lived without it for so long. Nemir was a bulwark, firm and unyielding. Standing against the tide that threatened to overwhelm them. Nothing¡ªand no one¡ªwould move him. Not unless he wanted it. While he held the line, he could hear the frantic shouts of adventurers around him¡ªmen and women, doing all in their power to hold their weapons steady. Their movements were disjointed, unaccustomed to fighting with anyone other than their teams. And against this tide, it was clear who would falter first. ¡°Nem, left!¡± he heard Omi call out from behind, and without so much as glancing in the direction, he struck. His sword cleaved through a goblin¡¯s skull, its muscles spasming as lightning scorched its brain. Looking around, Nemir couldn¡¯t feel his anxiety rising. His team was doing amazing, they were carving through the seemingly endless enemies like a sickle through wheat, but not everyone could say the same. Nemir¡¯s arms were starting to ache, each swing taking just the slightest bit more effort. The weight of battle was something he was accustomed too, but it had come quicker than he¡¯d hoped. Guildmistress Quinea had tasked them with being the linchpin in the assembled Iron-rank¡¯s formation. Yet there were hundreds of goblins, and only five of them. I hope they¡¯re quick, he thought, his gauntleted fist cracking a leaping goblin across the face before an arrow pierced its throat. There wasn¡¯t even enough time to shoot a grateful glance towards Silvia before another monster appeared in front of him. So Nemir moved, and he fought, and he killed. He could see the Silver-ranks in the center of their formation, their Aura¡¯s illuminating the air around them as the sound of crashing steel and breaking bones echoed through the clearing. Nemir wanted nothing more than to join them, to test out his newfound strength against worthwhile opponents, but he knew he couldn¡¯t do that. His task was to hold their flanks, to stop them from being overrun, nothing more. Name: Namir Al¡¯kalat Title: 4th Heir (Count) Body: Iron V [15 Levels] Skills: [Rending Cleave] (Adept), [Sweeping Slash] (Adept), [Relentless Assault] (Adept), [Deflect] (Adept), [Battle Roar] (Initiate), [Earthshatter] (Initiate), [Battle Trance] (Initiate), [Overpowering Strike] (Initiate), [Unyielding Wall] (Initiate) Core: N/A Level: 15 Strength: 60 Dexterity: 30 Vitality: 31 Intelligence: 2 Willpower: 2 Focus: 15 I wouldn¡¯t mind a few more points in Vitality right about now, he thought, deflecting a thrust aimed at his stomach, cleaving another goblins body in half. The battle had been going on for less than ten minutes, and he could already feel the fatigue creeping up on him. He¡¯d been using his skills liberally, forcing himself to fight at the peak of his capabilities. But even that wasn¡¯t enough to save everyone. Off to the side, a spearman was getting overwhelmed, and their opponents took notice. They rushed at the tired adventurer¡ªbarely a man grown¡ªand an errant thrust took him in the knee. An anguished scream tore from his throat and Nemir pushed his body to its limit, letting out a [Battle Roar] that stunned the monsters followed by an [Earthshatter]. It took barely a few seconds to clear them all, yet even that was too slow. He forced himself to look at the glazed eyes of the man lying beneath his feet, a dagger thrust through his chest. It wasn¡¯t the first death of the day, and it wouldn¡¯t be the last. Nemir memorized the man¡¯s features, vowing to learn his name when the battle was won. The same vow he¡¯d made far too many times already. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. But there was nothing more he could do right now. All that was left was to move, to fight, and to kill. . . . Huon was afraid. Afraid for himself, afraid for his brother, and afraid for his master. Yet he couldn¡¯t let it show. He couldn¡¯t let that looming specter of death slow him down. Each spell that flew towards them was a battle in and off itself. And while they weren¡¯t winning, they weren¡¯t losing either. Huon couldn¡¯t see his master, but he knew he was off to the side, trading spells with the Warlock. Each one intended to kill. The [Blizzard] fought against the [Dust Storm] with furious intensity, threatening destruction if either got too close. [Ice Spear]¡¯s were absorbed by risen Earth, and [Dust Blade]¡¯s were deflected by gusts of chilled Wind. Even though Huon trusted his master, it was hard not to keep glancing at the maelstrom of death. A single mistake from either of the two powerhouses would spell the end for their forces. Be it shamans or mages. ¡°Focus!¡± mage Velora bellowed, raising a wall of Water to defend against a [Firebolt]. ¡°Hold the line! Do not let them threaten our troops!¡± Huon¡¯s heart beat rapidly in his chest, his hands clammy. This was nothing like the spars he loved. There was no strategy, no artistry. Just pure chaos. The goblin shamans were just a stone¡¯s throw away. Their scarred skin and beady eyes visible in the few moments when spells weren¡¯t flying. ¡°Brother, below!¡± Tion shouted, his [Water Whip]¡¯s slicing a [Firebolt] from the air. Huon nodded, his instincts kicking in. [Stone Sense] activated and he pushed his perception as far as it could go, piercing through the ground and across the divide between their forces. He sensed something moving rapidly towards their position. Without thinking, he clamped down on the earth around it, smothering the spell before it could reach them. A shaman snarled in frustration somewhere further away, but even though he¡¯d successfully prevented the attack, Huon didn¡¯t feel like he''d accomplished much. Each spell they deflected was soon replaced by another. Like an endless avalanche. They were evenly matched against their opponents, but Huon knew it wouldn¡¯t stay that way for long. There were only nine of them, while the shamans numbered more than a dozen. They were tasked with holding the line until their elites dealt with the real threats. Quinea and the Warchief, Tremil and the Warlock, and finally, Jamis and the apprentice. I¡¯m using too much mana, Huon realized. If I keep on like this, I have another ten minutes in me. And after that¡­ He didn''t want to think about it. That way lay doubt and hesitation. All he could do was trust in the plan. Sending another [Rock Shot] at the shamans, Huon glanced towards the camp and the towering tent in the middle. He could see the golden glow of the Guildmistress Aura, and a little ways away, there was the telltale sign of a mage duel in progress. I just hope they¡¯re quick, he thought and refocused on the task at hand. . . . A dome of Earth erupted from the ground, rising rapidly to intercept Rowan¡¯s [Fireball]. It exploded with a loud boom, shaking the ground and rustling the nearby tents. Yet the apprentice¡¯s shield stood unaffected. Strangely, seeing this, he felt a calm wash over him. He¡¯d done everything he could to prepare for this upcoming battle. His reserves were full and his spells were ready. Now all that was left to do was perform. He¡¯s a Yellow-core mage, so his spells are naturally going to pack a punch. But I doubt he¡¯s going to have a lot of them this soon. Quinea¡¯s reports said that the apprentice was at the peak of Orange, meaning he couldn¡¯t have had the time to master all that many of them. His mana pool for Dust is going to be small. He¡¯s going to try and use it to get a killing blow in. Just as he thought that, a [Rock Shot] flew towards him, almost faster than the eye could follow. Rowan threw himself out of the way, [Tailwind] giving him just barely enough speed to successfully dodge. Conserve your mana, he told himself. Use your speed. Rushing to the side, Rowan started casting [Firebolt]''s, pushing [Iron Will] as far as it could go. Both of his hands worked rapidly, throwing out spell after spell, forcing the apprentice to keep his shield up. I¡¯ll need a Wind spell to get through that dome. Fire isn¡¯t going to cut it. But to do that, he¡¯d need to get close. Something he¡¯d rather avoid when fighting a Dust mage. Suddenly, a loud screech interrupted his thoughts and Rowan was reminded that they were in the middle of a warcamp. Looking up, he was greeted by the sight of a goblin throwing itself off a tent, its spear pointed downwards¡ªstraight at him. [Tailwind] and his inherent Dexterity were more than enough to dodge out of the way, but doing that would have led to other problems. Mainly, being overwhelmed by sheer numbers. The last thing Rowan wanted was to give the apprentice time to cast while he dealt with the lesser goblins closing in. Holding [Tailwind] was quickly draining his lackluster Wind reserves, and on top of that it was slowing down his other castings. Making a decision, Rowan dropped the spell and replaced it with a [Burning Whip], smashing the falling goblin out of the air. The monster howled in pain as the fiery appendage wrapped around its leg, throwing it straight at the apprentice. It impacted the stone dome with a sickening crunch, its neck breaking, cutting off the screams. His opponent didn¡¯t seem to care in the slightest. Eight spikes grew from its dome, each one stronger than Rowan¡¯s [Firebolt]. It launched them at him with frightening speed and he was forced to erect a [Fire Shield]. He crouched down and made himself as small as possible, lowering the cost as far as it could go. Mana churned throughout his body as a blanket of flame appeared in front of him. Three [Earth Spike]¡¯s hit it moments later, and Rowan grunted from the force of the impact. Even at a distance, a Yellow-core mage¡¯s Intent was inherently stronger. It had a weight behind it that his skill barely matched. There were ways to get around that, but they came at a cost. A dull thud came from behind him and Rowan glanced back, seeing a goblin with a hole in its chest. The apprentice had no regard for its companions, seemingly only caring about dealing with the threat in front of it, no matter the collateral damage. Feeling the earth rumbling beneath his feet, Rowan jumped to the side, dodging an attack from below. A tentacle pierced through the ground right where he stood just moments ago, whirling towards him. His [Burning Whip] met it, clashing with the apprentice''s spell as it tried to get a hold of him. And for the first time since the fight began, Rowan came out ahead. He¡¯d mastered that spell to a degree few at his level could hope to match. It wrapped around the tentacle of Earth and squeezed, easily extinguishing the goblin¡¯s Intent. A frustrated snarl was his response, and he answered it with a [Fireball]. The spell erupted against the earthen dome, the explosion strong enough to blow away the tents around them and loud enough to deafen. But it also had an unintended consequence. One that caused Rowan¡¯s eyes to widen in alarm. It kicked up the dust covering the sun-baked earth. Dust the apprentice could control. His hand twitched as he prepared to cast an empowered [Gust], but he stopped himself. He¡¯d need his Wind mana later, and if he used it right now, the dome protecting the apprentice might as well be made of adamant. So instead, he quickly cast a [Fire Shield] again, covering his whole body just as the Dust started swirling ominously around him. Chapter 51 - A Grand Old Time Laith was having a grand old time, even if those around him weren¡¯t. His axe cleaved through the skull of a hobgoblin, quickly followed by another. His Aura of Vigor empowered his muscles, making each strike stronger than the last. Their cohort of Silver-ranks had already lost half a dozen members. Though their deaths hadn¡¯t been in vain. The hobgoblins had paid a butcher''s toll for each life they took, more than fifty of them lying dead across the battlefield. Lets get those numbers up, Laith thought, a wide grin splitting his face, the thrill of battle coursing through his veins. His gaze flickered to the side where a massive [Blizzard] collided with an equally large [Dust Storm], the roar of magic drowning out the clashing of steel against steel. It was so easy to get lost in the small victories. To forget about the grander forces at play. But while their skirmish was certainly important, it paled in comparison to the battle¡¯s being fought elsewhere. Their mages were fighting back against the shamans admirably, yet that wouldn¡¯t hold for long. He knew it in his bones. Nine against fifteen. That¡¯s too big of a difference. Another hobgoblin rushed at him, an ugly snarl on its scarred face, its sword shining with a familiar red glow. Laith deflected the strike with the shaft of his axe, the hardened ironwood easily taking the blow. He kicked the monster in the chest, disturbing it¡¯s footing before finishing it off with a slash to the neck. Slicing its head clean off. There was a reason Laith hadn¡¯t become a mage, even if he had the ability. His arms may have been tired, and his muscles may have been sore, but while he still drew breath, Laith would be able to fight. He could push through the exhaustion, the bone-deep weariness that came from taking his body to the limit. But a mage? A mage was like a child once his mana ran out. Unable to do anything besides watch Morrigan as she drew them into her embrace. An image came unbidden to his mind. A woman, broader than he was now, standing in front of him with a massive greatsword in her hands. Laith remembered little from that day, but the sight of a full flight of drakes being torn from the sky by a single sword swing was something he¡¯d never forget. The paths to power were myriad, and just because a mage seemed stronger than a warrior at the start didn¡¯t mean that pattern held. His gaze wandered over towards the center of the warcamp where Guildmistress Quinea and that curious young man fought against their opponents. Hoping that either one of them finished their battle soon. ¡°Sir!¡± a voice called out from behind, his mind refocusing on the present. ¡°The Iron-ranks are getting overwhelmed!¡± Glancing back, Laith saw a tide of goblins rushing at the adventurers tasked with holding their flanks, his expression hardening with resolve. ¡°I¡¯m on it,¡± he said firmly. ¡°Ilios, Gurak, with me.¡± The hobgoblins were contained for now, they could afford to spread their forces. Laith saw a young woman slowly being overwhelmed, her daggers flashing as she used skill after skill, trying to hold off an onslaught of attacks. A warrior in silver plate was running towards her, but Laith knew he wouldn¡¯t get there in time. Each one of his steps was getting halted by another opponent, slowing him down. Looking deep within himself, he churned the molten pool of energy inside his chest. Earth mana started moving through his channels. Just because Laith didn¡¯t want to be a mage didn¡¯t mean he would let a useful weapon languish by the wayside. He had it, and so, he would use it. The earth beneath his feet hardened with each step, throwing him forward, raising his speed. [Earthen Steps] was a Murmur-level spell, one of three he¡¯d learned, but it was immensely useful. With a roar, Laith threw himself into the middle of the skirmish. His axe cleaving through the air, reaping goblin lives with each powerful swing. The young woman he¡¯d just saved spoke words of gratitude, yet he didn¡¯t have time to answer. She wasn¡¯t the only one on the brink of death. Laith¡¯s arms may have been tired, his muscles may have been sore, but he still drew breath. And that meant he would fight. There were opponents all around him, so he did the only thing he could. He got to work. . . . Crap, crap, crap! Rowan thought, his mana draining rapidly as Dust swirled around his shield, coiling around it like a snake circling its prey. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. His reserves of Fire mana weren¡¯t small. He had enough to cast [Fireball] a dozen times over. But out of all of his spells, [Fire Shield] was by far the most costly. Unlike all the others, it had to directly content with an opponent''s Intent. And that wasn¡¯t cheap. The apprentice tested his defense, pressing down and launching spikes where he perceived weakness. The cloud of dust covered him fully, and he knew something needed to change. Gritting his teeth, Rowan quickly came to a decision. He could most likely stand and take the spell, trading his mana for his opponents. But that wasn¡¯t how he¡¯d win this fight. Once the apprentice depleted his Dust mana, he would still have a full pool of Wind and Earth. And if that happened, Rowan would be in for a world of hurt. He had slightly more than half of his Wind mana left, along with just under three-quarters of his Fire mana¡ªwith the latter getting depleted much faster than he¡¯d like. Move, he told himself. His opponent might have had more mana and the inherent strength that came with advancing his Core to Yellow, but Rowan wasn¡¯t without his own advantages. Taking a deep breath, he started to overload his spell. Pushing a tremendous amount of mana into it. For most, doing this would lead to a soul-injury. The sheer amount of mana being pumped through his channels enough to strain even the hardiest of mages. But Rowan¡¯s soul was different. It wasn¡¯t just hardy, it was Immortal. His shield erupted around him in a fiery explosion, forcing back the cloud of dust that threatened to overwhelm him. Rowan didn¡¯t waste any time. He bent his knees and launched himself away, pushing his body to its limit. The explosion did what he¡¯d hoped it¡¯d do, clearing a path for him to take. But while it dealt with most of the dust, it couldn¡¯t deal with all of it. Shallow cuts appeared across his arms and legs as he raced across the hard earth, blood dripping from the wounds. Rowan suppressed a wince, trying to keep his mind clear and focused. The dust cloud tried to follow him, but his speed proved greater, his dexterity just barely high enough to keep ahead of it. Rowan''s eyes locked onto the stone dome that still hid the apprentice from view. He felt his resolve steady, the fear and uncertainty giving way to a steadfast confidence, the sharp sting of his wounds fading into a dull ache. Pulling out a healing potion from the Vault mid stride, he gulped it down while running towards the goblin, knowing he¡¯ll need it if he wanted to reach him alive. The closer he got the denser the cloud became. He dodged what spells he could, defended what he couldn¡¯t with his shield¡ªdraining what little remained of his Fire mana¡ªand took what was left, trusting in the potion to keep him alive. Every step he took resulted in a new wound, each one deeper than the last. Rowan split his focus, half of his mind on closing the distance while the other sat by that calm river, dealing with the rocks as they appeared. A tendril of dust snaked around his leg, threatening to end his charge. Rowan let out an ear splitting roar, pushing the last vestiges of his Fire mana to combat it, smothering the apprentice''s Intent. He was still more than a dozen feet away. Too far, he thought, throwing himself to the side, turning his tumble into an awkward roll. A spike of earth flew over his head¡ªnearly taking out his eye¡ªyet the sight only emboldened him. He¡¯s out, Rowan grinned, watching as the cloud of dust slowly started settling down, no longer under the goblin¡¯s control. Digging deep, he forced his sore muscles to move. Uncaring of the blood that dripped down his body, his wounds slowly mending from the healing potion still coursing through his veins. He would have only one chance to get this right. His Fire mana was completely spent, leaving him with only half of his reserves of Wind. Once that was gone, Rowan would be at his opponents mercy. The training with Tremil had deepened his knowledge of Wind. His spells had grown more efficient and his Intent sharper. Yet what he needed now wasn¡¯t efficiency, it wasn¡¯t grace and precision. What Rowan needed was power. The dome of Stone was his target. Mana started circulating through his body, the circuit for [Gust] feeling as light as a feather, even in these dire circumstances. Rowan had discovered something significant while practicing that spell. Unlike [Firebolt], overfilling it with mana didn¡¯t come with the risk of dying in a fiery explosion. It still required an immense amount of concentration, and channeling such a large amount of mana was dangerous for most mages. But Rowan wasn¡¯t most mages. The worst that could happen was getting thrown back from the force of his spell. Not exactly a pleasant experience, and one that would lead to his death just the same if it happened right now. But the difference was it was possible to train it. Something Rowan had done for exactly this situation. A Yellow-core mages defense wasn¡¯t something he should have been capable of getting through. Especially one with the Earth affinity. The strength behind the apprentices'' defenses were two fold. Firstly, his inherently stronger Intent. And secondly, the abundance of Earth. But sometimes, brute force was all one needed. A staff appeared in his hand, quickly followed by a swirling ball of Wind at the tip that grew in intensity with each step he took. His lone skill worked at its limit, keeping his mind focused as he packed more and more mana into the spell. In the few seconds it took to finally reach his opponent, Rowan had packed half of what was left of his mana pool into it. The spell glowed an iridescent green, and what little mana managed to escape his grasp was enough to blow his hair back, kicking up the dust around them. The apprentice, noticing his presence retaliated. Rowan didn¡¯t have time to dodge the spike that erupted from below him fully. He managed to move out of the way just enough to avoid it piercing his stomach, yet he couldn''t prevent it from driving through his foot. A pained shout escaped his throat as the attack landed, tearing muscle and breaking bone. It was enough to shatter the fragile hold he had over the maelstrom in his hand, but he¡¯d done what he needed to. He¡¯d gotten close. [Gust] might have been just a Whisper-level spell, yet with the amount of mana Rowan had forced into it, it got the job done. The spell tore through the goblins'' defenses, smothering the imbued Intent with sheer force. It was quantity over quality in the truest sense of the word. When it was done, Rowan stood face to face with his opponent for the first time since the fight started. His mana was completely gone, yet he couldn¡¯t keep the grin off his face. The apprentice¡¯s eyes widened in confusion and fear, not expecting his spell to be overpowered this quickly. Instinctively, he took a hesitant step back, wanting to create distance between itself and the threat standing right in front of him. That hesitation was all the time Rowan needed. His grin widened, feeling a surge of confidence envelop him. He knew from the start that the moment he broke through would be the most dangerous part of the fight. A single spell would have been enough to end him. But that moment had passed. The apprentice had lost its chance to surprise and fear. With his magic spent, there was only one thing left to do. Rowan cocked his arm back and punched the little shit in the head. Chapter 52 - Exhausted & Bloody The goblin yelped as Rowan¡¯s punch connected, his fist breaking its nose with a satisfying crunch. Blood pooled from its scarred face, mingling with his own. Rowan¡¯s heart beat like a wardrum, pounding away in his chest as another punch landed. He could see the fear and confusion in its beady eyes. Unable to comprehend how he¡¯d gotten through its shield so quickly. There were only seconds before the apprentice remembered he was a mage and blasted his head off, but Rowan planned on ending the fight before that could happen. They fell to the ground and Rowan straddled the monster, his hands firmly gripping its head. Mages rarely focused on stats that gave a body strength, instead choosing to enlarge their mana pool or quicken their recovery. Right now, the apprentice was paying for that decision. With a primal roar, Rowan slammed the goblins head against the ground. Once, twice, three times. It shrieked in agony, its claws raking across his side, digging into his flesh and drawing blood. His roar grew in intensity as he felt the sharpened nails scraping against his ribs, trying to find purchase and pierce his lungs. Yet he didn¡¯t stop. He couldn¡¯t stop, because stopping meant death. Slowly, the goblins'' screams turned to subdued whimpers. And with one final slam that cracked open its skull, the apprentice died. Rowan sat on top of him, panting and sweaty, his hands covered in the goblins'' blood and brains. He stared down at the dead monster for a long moment, feeling proud, and satisfied, though mostly exhausted. Unable to hold back anymore, Rowan let out a loud, booming laugh. It echoed through the warcamp, most likely drawing attention to his position, yet he didn¡¯t care. He¡¯d done his part, all that was left for the others to do the same. Pushing himself back up, Rowan couldn¡¯t help but wince, the wounds crossing his body stinging like all hell. Thankfully, they were neither deep nor dangerous, the potion he¡¯d drunk before his charge doing its job. ¡°Speaking of that,¡± Rowan muttered, pulling out one to recover his mana. Even with the potion, It would take him at least half an hour before his mana returned, but it was still much better than the three hours he¡¯d need with meditation. And without even that, it would have taken him a whole day to replenish his reserves. The clear blue liquid made its way down his throat, evaporating as soon as it hit his stomach. Mana potions didn¡¯t actually contain a whole lot of mana. They hastened recovery by stimulating a Core, making it vibrate in just the right frequency to help with replenishing a mages reserves. There were potions capable of almost instantaneous recovery, but they were made by Grandmaster Alchemists and extremely illegal to own except by the King¡¯s own warmages. Looking around, Rowan spotted a discarded sword a little ways away. Dropped by the goblin that had tried to ambush him and ended up a makeshift ballista bolt. Rowan limped over to it, picked it up and tried not to hiss in pain as he swung it around. Name: Iron Sword Grade: Common ¡°Wait, what am I doing?¡± he asked himself, dropping the sword and summoning another from the Vault. Name: Stormforged Shortsword Grade: Epic Enchantments: [Sharpness], [Durability], [Accumulated Charge] ¡°That¡¯s better.¡± Weapon in hand, Rowan started making his way towards where he¡¯d left Quinea and the Warchief, hoping that her fight had gone as well as his. Because if it didn¡¯t, we¡¯re all in deep shit. It was easy to feel triumphant after his victory. Yet out of the three major duels they needed to win, his was by far the least important. If the Warchief lived, there was no one in their group capable of dealing with it. And the same went for the Warlock. Rowan made his way through the eerily silent camp, the only sound coming from further away where the assembled adventurers still fought against the goblins. I hope the Grove is okay. He thought about heading that way, but decided against it. Right now, without his magic, he wouldn¡¯t exactly be useful in a fight¡ªno more than any Bronze-ranked adventure would be. He reached the central tent, and a bittersweet sight greeted him. Quinea sat on top of the massive goblin¡¯s body, holding its severed head in her hand. Her once pristine armor was caked in blood and dented in multiple spots, the battle taking its toll on the Guildmistress. Rowan¡¯s gaze flickered to her left arm, or more accurately, the stump that was in its place. She caught his eye and smirked. ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that. This isn¡¯t the first time I¡¯ve lost a limb, and gods willing it won¡¯t be the last.¡± Rowan let out a surprised chuckle at her response, the tension leaving his shoulders. ¡°Gods willing?¡± he smiled. ¡°So you enjoy getting dismembered?¡± ¡°Hells no.¡± Quinea snorted. ¡°But if it stops happening that means I¡¯ve either stopped fighting, or I¡¯m dead,¡± she shrugged. ¡°Neither of which are things I¡¯d like to happen any time soon.¡± As he made his way over to her, Quinea jumped down from the corpse, throwing the severed head aside. She stood in front of him, exhausted, bloody, but victorious. The Guildmistress glanced at him appraisingly. ¡°You look like shit.¡± Rowan raised both his hands and looked at each one in turn. ¡°You know the saying about stones and glass houses?¡± Quinea laughed, shaking her head in amusement. ¡°Come on. The fight¡¯s not done yet,¡± she pulled her spear out of the ground and started walking. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. Rowan fell into step beside her, wincing with every movement but refusing to slow down. The adventurers¡¯ struggles still rang out in the distance, punctuated by the occasional scream or the clash of steel against steel. ¡°How¡¯s your mana holding up?¡± Quinea asked, her steps steady despite her missing arm. ¡°Not good,¡± Rowan admitted, feeling at his slowly refilling Core. ¡°I drank a potion after the fight, but if I had to put a number on it, I¡¯m at less than ten percent.¡± Quinea nodded, her eyes sweeping the camp around them. ¡°That¡¯s fine. As long as you¡¯re not fully out.¡± Rowan¡¯s grip around the sword tightened, feeling the weight of it in his hand. He didn¡¯t feel particularly useful right now, but he¡¯d make do. He had to. As they rounded a corner, the battlefield came into full view. The adventurers had pushed deep into the goblin camp, scattering what remained of their forces. Bodies littered the ground, most of them belonging to goblins, though Rowan could make out the still forms of fallen adventures alongside them. Laith stood at the forefront of the battle, his massive axe cutting through goblins like a sickle through wheat, a wide, almost manic smile on his face. He moved with terrifying force, his bloodied figure practically dancing through what remained of the enemy, decimating any who were stupid enough to cross his path. Nemir wasn¡¯t far off, and what Rowan saw made his eyes widen in delight. Along the blade of his greatsword, there was a faint red glow. ¡°He advanced,¡± Rowan whispered. The gulf between Iron and Silver was a major one. One many adventurers never crossed. It required a person to understand their Path, and more importantly, how they wanted to follow it. Silvia stood a little ways behind Nemir, perched on an overturned wagon. Her bowstring was constantly in motion, each arrow striking a goblin with deadly accuracy. Only one out of every four had the glow of the weapon''s enchantment, meaning she managed to drain it almost fully during the course of the fight. Not a light feat. Annie and Omi worked in perfect unison next to a group of Iron-ranks. Omi struck the goblins from behind, cutting tendons and inflicting wicked blows while Annie finished them off with precise strikes. Rowan¡¯s eyes scanned the battlefield until they landed on Zoe. Their healer stood at the back, Kai perched protectively on her shoulder. A constant influx of adventurer¡¯s circled around her as she healed those on the brink of death and dismissed those with lighter wounds. The amount of healing she could do was finite, and wasting it unnecessarily was a mistake that could cost them all dearly. ¡°They¡¯re fine here,¡± Quinea said, her gaze moving towards where the mages fought. ¡°Follow me.¡± Without hesitation, she started running towards the group, gripping her spear with her good arm. Rowan ran after her, barely managing to keep up. As they got closer, Rowan could make out mage Velora at the head of their formation, her expression intense as he deflected a [Wind Blade] with a [Water Whip]. Out of the nine mages that started the fight, two were nowhere to be seen, with another three standing behind, obviously spent. One of them was Huon, with Tion off to the side raising earthen barriers to protect them against the shamans onslaught. His eyes moved to the two storms raging even further back. Ice and Dust clashing furiously. The sight made his breath catch, but he couldn¡¯t let himself get distracted. We¡¯re not done yet, he reminded himself. Quinea didn¡¯t waste any time, disappearing with a burst of speed, her severed arm not slowing her down in the slightest. The eight shamans that were left barely had time to react as she appeared among them, swinging her weapon like fury manifest. It sliced one¡¯s head off and pierced another through the heart before the goblins noticed her arrival. Their mages were emboldened by the sight, a cheer going out as Velora raised an arm. ¡°Attack with everything you¡¯ve got!¡± she shouted. ¡°Finish them off!¡± A flurry of spells was the response. [Firebolts], [Wind Blasts] and [Rock Shots], all of them started landing among the shamans, decimating the surprised goblins. A few tried to answer back, focused their ire on the whirlwind of death that danced in their company. Yet it didn¡¯t help. Quinea¡¯s spear shone with a faint golden glow, weaker than the first time Rowan had seen it, but no less deadly. It carved through the spells with ease, and just moments later, the remaining shamans lay dead at her feet. Rowan rushed towards the mages, hearing another cheer going up behind him. Glancing back, he saw Laith with his axe held high, the remaining goblins fleeing deeper into the destroyed warcamp. Routed. ¡°Victory!¡± he bellowed, his voice ringing across the battlefield. ¡°Come friends! If there is an ounce of strength left in you, follow me!¡± Laith rushed after the fleeting goblins, followed by a dozen or so Silver-ranks. And surprisingly enough, the Grove as well. The rest of the adventurers stood in place. Most of them sitting down on the hard ground, utterly exhausted. Suddenly, a low rumble drew their attention. Rowan¡¯s heart skipped a beat as he turned towards the source of the noise. His gaze locked onto the raging storm at the far end of the camp where Tremil and the Warlock still fought. The clash between Tremil¡¯s [Blizzard] and the Warlock¡¯s [Dust Storm] had been raging from the start of the battle. What felt like hours. But now, something had changed. The [Dust Storm] was beginning to falter, the swirling clouds of stone and earth losing their cohesion as the icy winds of the blizzard overpowered them. Rowan¡¯s eyes locked onto the raging maelstrom. The Warlock¡¯s defenses were unraveling, bits of dust scattered uselessly in the air as Tremil battered at it with his own spellwork. But he wasn¡¯t fooled by the victory that seemed so near, and neither were the rest of the mages. Something was wrong. Velora¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°He¡¯s going to kill himself.¡± The amount of mana being channeled was staggering. It seemed like Tremil had enough of the stalemate. Rowan had seen Tremil cast before, but never like this. There was no elegance to his spells now, only raw, primal power. He was pouring everything into the [Blizzard], pushing past his limits, straining his soul. ¡°He¡¯s burning himself out,¡± Rowan muttered, feeling his whole body tense. A part of him wanted to rush forward, to help, but he knew better. There wasn¡¯t anything he could do here. Even if he thought himself mighty after his victory, he was still weak. Much, much too weak. The only thing left for him to do was watch and hope that Tremil came out on top. Finally, with a deafening roar, the Warlock¡¯s [Dust Storm] shattered completely¡ªTremil¡¯s final push tearing through the last remnants of its spell. The goblin let out an ear piercing shriek as ice engulfed him, freezing him in place. His twisted staff fell from his grip as his body became encased in a coffin of frost. The [Blizzard] howled one last time before quieting into the eerie stillness. The battle, it seems, was won. Rowan began to run, ignoring the pain shooting through his legs and the throbbing of his wounds. Tremil¡¯s form was barely visible through the settling storm, but Rowan could see his outline swaying unsteadily. Quinea ran past him, easily outpacing him. Rowan pushed through the ice-coated ground, slipping and stumbling, but not stopping. When he finally reached him, Tremil was still standing, his eyes wide and unfocused. His face was pale, lips blue from the cold of his own magic. There was a deep gash across his side, blood frozen to his robe, but the old mage was seemingly unaware of it. His breath came in ragged gasps, each one shallow and pained. Quinea reached him first, gently grabbing his arm. ¡°Tremil, it¡¯s over,¡± she said softly. ¡°You did it.¡± For a moment, he didn¡¯t react. His body shook violently, his legs struggling to keep him upright. And then, slowly, his eyes flickered, recognition seeping back in as he looked at the Guildmistress. A weak smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but it was brief¡ªhis knees buckled, and he collapsed into her arms. Rowan rushed to his side, kneeling down next to him as Quinea cradled his body in her arms. ¡°Easy,¡± she whispered, gently lowering him to the ground. ¡°I¡¯ve got you.¡± Velora and the other mages arrived a moment later, their expression grave. Tremil¡¯s breathing was growing shallow, his body slack in Quinea¡¯s arms. His skin had taken on a sickly pale color, and his usually bright eyes were unnaturally dim. ¡°He¡¯s injured his soul,¡± Velora whispered, shaking his head. Rowan took the old mage¡¯s hand, pulling off his storage ring. The other mages tensed at the sight, but before they could voice their objections he threw it to Tion. ¡°Check inside,¡± he said firmly. ¡°He might have something to deal with Soul-strain.¡± The young mage nodded, his hand visibly shaking as he slipped on the ring. Tremil¡¯s eyes fluttered open, his gaze meeting Rowan¡¯s. There was no fear in them, only satisfaction. His lips parted, and a faint, hoarse whisper escaped. ¡°...the Warlock¡­ is it¡­ dead?¡± Rowan nodded. ¡°Yeah, you got him,¡± he said softly. ¡°Frozen solid.¡± A ghost of a smile flickered across Tremil¡¯s lips before his eyes slid shut once more, falling unconscious. Exhausted, bloody, but victorious. The battle was over. They had won. Chapter 53 - Alarm The assembled forces of Litwick stood around the Warchief¡¯s former tent, milling about and celebrating their triumph. The victory had cost them dearly. Two mages, eighteen Silver-ranks, and thirty-nine Iron-ranks had given their lives to achieve it. Tremil had strained his soul, and while Tion had found a drought capable of soothing it, it would be a long while before the old mage would be able to cast again. Quinea, the Guildmistress and the strongest adventurer in the city had lost an arm fighting the Warchief, though she didn¡¯t seem to mind all that much. There would be a healing circle waiting for her once they returned. Rowan felt a sense of satisfaction wash over him as he observed the crowd. He¡¯d done his job, and the rest of them had too. The mages had held back a cohort of shamans almost double their number, while the Silver and Iron-ranks fought against a tide of goblins that outnumbered them greatly. It had cost them sixty good men and women, yet they¡¯d won. They had defeated the goblin threat. Rowan closed his eyes, resting his head against an overturned cart and letting his thoughts settle. He knew the battle would have long-lasting effects on the city. Losing this many of their strongest adventures was a hurdle that would take time to overcome. Yet it wasn¡¯t as bleak as it seemed. He glanced towards the far side of the camp where Nemir stood surrounded by eight unfamiliar faces¡ªall of them newly minted Silver-ranks. Rowan smiled, feeling immensely proud of his friend. The battle may have cost them a lot, but as his mother used to say, the hottest flame forged the hardest steel. As Rowan sat there, watching the exhausted adventures talk amongst themselves, a familiar redhead started making her way towards him. ¡°Hey,¡± she said, plopping down next to him. Rowan smiled. ¡°Hey.¡± They sat in silence for a moment, both of them lost in their own thoughts. She looks¡­ spent, Rowan thought, taking in her blood caked hair and the tired slump of her shoulders. Annie arched an eyebrow. ¡°Is there a reason you¡¯re gawking at me?¡± ¡°Just thinking about how good you look with blood all over your face,¡± Rowan shrugged, trying to hide his smile. ¡°It really compliments your hair.¡± ¡°Good?¡± She snorted. ¡°I look like I got run over by a wagon.¡± Annie pulled on her curly locks, scraping the blood off with her nails. Rowan noticed the slight blush that colored her cheeks, but decided not to mention it. She may have been tired, but he doubted she¡¯d hesitate to smack him upside the head. ¡°How¡¯d your fight go?¡± she asked. ¡°I punched him to death.¡± Rowan grinned. ¡°You should have seen it. The little bastard didn¡¯t know what hit him.¡± Annie¡¯s eyes widened, and she let out a loud laugh. ¡°You¡¯re kidding, right? You fought a Yellow-core mage, and you won by¡­ hitting him?¡± Rowan nodded. ¡°Yup. Smashed his skull against the ground,¡± he wiggled his fingers. ¡°Got brains all over my hand though. Could have gone without that part.¡± She shook her head, still laughing. ¡°Hells, I wish I could have seen that.¡± ¡°What about you? I saw you chasing after Laith. That was¡­¡± he trailed off. Annie waved him off. ¡°Yeah, yeah, it was dangerous. I know,¡± she smiled to herself. ¡°It was worth it, though.¡± ¡°You figure something out?¡± Rowan asked, his eyes flickering to Laith. She noticed his gaze and nodded. ¡°I think I¡¯ll be able to advance as soon as I hit Iron V. I felt something at the end there. It was like¡­¡± she bit her lip. ¡°Like my spear wanted to punch through their defenses.¡± ¡°That¡¯s amazing,¡± he said, his smile widening. ¡°Litwick is going to see a lot of new Silver-ranks after a battle like this one.¡± Annie sighed. ¡°We¡¯re going to need them,¡± she said softly, her voice tired. ¡°We lost eighteen of our best warriors. It¡¯s going to be a challenge keeping the surrounding Wilds clear without them.¡± ¡°Look on the bright side,¡± Rowan said, gesturing towards the group of newly minted Silver-ranks. ¡°There¡¯s eight new ones already. Give it a few months, and there¡¯s going to be more of them than what we started with.¡± ¡°You¡¯re probably right,¡± she conceded. ¡°But there¡¯s still a difference between someone who just got access to their Aura, and a warrior who¡¯s already familiar with it.¡± To that, Rowan could only nod. They spent the next few minutes in comfortable silence, their shoulders resting against each other as they observed the camp. ¡°Guildmistress!¡± a panicked shout suddenly shattered the calm atmosphere. ¡°Come quick, you have to see this!¡± It was a scout that had spoken, and Rowan immediately felt his stomach drop. What did he see? Why is he so frantic? Quinea, true to form, immediately dropped her conversation with Laith and rushed towards the scout. Rowan exchanged a worried glance with Annie, both of them quickly standing up and moving toward the commotion. ¡°...at least five-hundred, maybe more,¡± the scout spoke, his breathing ragged as he pointed towards the ridge at the end of the clearing. Quinea¡¯s eyes hardened as she followed the scouts'' frantic gestures. She muttered something under her breath, and for a brief second, her usual composure faltered. Rowan¡¯s breath caught his throat as he saw them. Goblins¡ªhundreds of them. Warg riders and hobgoblins, approaching like a tide. A seething mass of bodies racing towards them, silhouetted against the clear blue sky. ¡°Gods¡­¡± Annie whispered next to him. ¡°There¡¯s too many of them.¡± Rowan felt the exhaustion that had slowly been receding rush back in full force. His legs felt weak, and the knowledge that another battle awaited them nearly overwhelmed him. He looked at the ring on his finger, hesitating. I could leave. The thought came to him unbidden. He had his teleportation tokens. He could hand them out to the people closest to him. Send them out to one of the many regions and hope they found their way to a nearby settlement. With an iron grip, he stuffed that thought back into the recesses of his mind. He was the Duke of Eiselyth. He wouldn''t run like a coward. Nemir, who had been talking to the newly minted Silver-ranks, caught sight of the approaching hoard. He went still, the color draining from his face. ¡°We don¡¯t have the numbers,¡± he muttered, gripping the hilt of his sword until his knuckles turned white. ¡°Not after¡­¡± He didn¡¯t finish the sentence. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Around them, the adventures who had been celebrating just moments ago, sharing stories of their valor, now stood frozen in shock. Their hard fought victory slowly turning to ashes in their mouths. A murmur spread through their ranks like wildfire. The Iron-ranks were the first to react¡ªfaces pale, weapons held loosely in their trembling hands. ¡°There¡¯s no way,¡± one of them muttered, eyes wide with terror. ¡°We can¡¯t fight a force like that,¡± his voice wavered. ¡°We¡¯re dead¡­ we¡¯re all dead!¡± Rowan watched as the panic spread. Another adventurer dropped her sword, her eyes brimming with tears as she slumped to her knees. ¡°No, no, no! We¡¯re supposed to be done! We won!¡± Others began backing away, some stumbling over the dead, others whispering prayers to whatever gods they followed. ¡°Steady!¡± Laith¡¯s shout broke through the chaos like a whip. The large warrior planted his axe into the ground, glaring at the retreating adventurers. ¡°Get it together! You¡¯re adventures for god''s sake!¡± his deep voice boomed. ¡°We beat them once, and we¡¯ll do it again!¡± He gripped his bloodied axe, pointing the massive weapon at the oncoming horde. ¡°Let them come,¡± he snarled. ¡°They¡¯ll die like all the rest of them.¡± ¡°And what about when we run out of strength?¡± a voice called out. A young swordsman, blood scattered across his armor. ¡°Half of us are barely standing!¡± The question hung heavy in the air. Rowan wanted to smack the young man upside the head, but he knew there was no use. Fear and panic had gripped their hearts. It had barely been an hour since the battle ended, and now they faced another horde of possibly greater number. ¡°We hold the line,¡± Quinea answered, her voice resolute. She stood to her full height, her spear held over her shoulder. ¡°No matter what. We hold the line, we fight, and we kill until we¡¯re the only ones left standing.¡± Quinea¡¯s Aura flared, a golden glow surrounding her despite her injuries. Her single arm held the blood-caked spear high as she stood defiantly in front of the gathering troops like a port in a storm. Rowan¡¯s heart raced as he stood next to her, feeling the weight of her words. He saw the resolve growing in the adventurer¡¯s eyes¡ªtheir fear still lingered, but beneath it something stronger grew. Determination. He traced the ring on his finger, coming to a decision. Turning towards her, he spoke quickly, his heart beating rapidly. ¡°I have a plan.¡± Quinea looked, her brows furrowed in confusion. ¡°Jamis, now isn¡¯t the¡ª¡± He raised his hand, cutting her off. A flash of anger flickered across her face, but he spoke before she could say anything. ¡°I have weapons, armors, potions. As good as what I gave to the Grove. Enough to outfit every single person here.¡± Her anger quickly turned to confusion. She took him in, noticing the seriousness of his expression. ¡°Truly?¡± she asked, obviously doubtful. Rowan nodded firmly. ¡°Yes. I need you to organize them by what weapon they carry. I¡¯ll take care of the rest.¡± She hesitated for only a moment before nodding back, a hopeful look in her eyes. Turning towards the assembled mages, he tuned out her commanding shouts. ¡°Walls,¡± Rowan said, his voice firm. ¡°We need walls.¡± Velora frowned, shaking his head. ¡°We shouldn¡¯t waste mana, there are¡ª¡± Before he could finish, Rowan pulled out a carton filled with mana-potions, each one glimmering with a soft blue glow. ¡°Walls. Now.¡± Without checking if his orders were followed, he turned back to the assembled adventurers. Time was of the essence. They had barely minutes before the horde reached their position, and if they wanted to have any chance of surviving, they needed to be quick. Rowan¡¯s mind raced as the adventurers pulled themselves together, their faces still etched with fear and exhaustion. Quinea¡¯s voice, sharp and commanding, cut through the camp as she divided them into groups, snapping them to action. The weight of what he was about to do pressed down on him like a vice. His ring felt heavier than ever, the significance of the moment sinking into his bones. Once he fully opened the Vault, there would be no undoing it. Rumors would spread, whispers would travel beyond Litwick, and powerful eyes would turn towards this insignificant settlement. He would have to leave¡ªflee the region before those whispers turned into action. But he already made his choice. These people needed him now. He could deal with the consequences later. West. I¡¯ll need to go west. To the Stormspire Heights, or the Onyx Delta. As far from Litwick as possible. Rowan flared [Iron Will], forcing the tremor from his hands. It¡¯ll take months before anyone important hears about what I¡¯m about to do. And that¡¯s if we survive. Whoever came looking wouldn¡¯t connect it to him. Rowan Athlain was dead¡ªan unawakened failure who died half a year ago far, far to the north of here. Just him being an Orange-Core mage should be enough to erase any suspicion. This is reckless, but I don¡¯t have a choice, he told himself. I¡¯m not going to let them all die. Not when I can help. Taking a steadying breath, he sent his perception into his ring. A heartbeat later, a cascade of gleaming weapons and armor spilled into the clearing. The air hummed with energy as more items emerged from the Vault, a veritable dragon¡¯s hoard unfurling before the stunned adventurers. ¡°Swords!¡± Rowan shouted, already turning to the next group. The crowd stilled, staring at the treasure now lying at their feet. Rows of swords, gleaming breastplate, gauntlet and shields, all shining with the unmistakable glow of enchantments. ¡°What¡­ what is this?¡± one of the Iron-ranks stammered, his eyes wide with disbelief. ¡°Where did it all come from?¡± another voice, equally bewildered, called out from the back of the crowd. But Rowan didn¡¯t stop. He reached the group of archers and started pulling out more items. Enchanted bows with strings that gleamed like silver, quivers filled with arrows enchanted for piercing, helmets adorned with runes that helped with aiming. The confusion was palpable. Whispers ran through the crowd like wildfire, growing louder with each new piece of equipment that appeared. Faces turned from Rowan to Quinea, to each other, as if they were trying to understand what was happening. ¡°MOVE!¡± Quinea¡¯s voice broke through the confusion as she picked up a sword and thrust into a waiting adventurer''s hands. ¡°Suit up! Grab what you need and get ready! We don¡¯t have time to waste!¡± The man blinked, frozen in disbelief, but still he gripped the sword firmly in his hands. That seemed to spur the others on, and the adventurers jolted into action. One by one, they began arming themselves. Swords were belted, armors were strapped on, and potions were passed around like lifelines. ¡°Drink one now and hold another if you get injured!¡± Rowan shouted. ¡°It¡¯ll deal with the exhaustion.¡± On and on it went. Spears and axes, warhammers and greatswords. Everyone got exactly what they needed. The shift was subtle at first. Confusion gave way to wonder, wonder transforming into hope. He could feel the atmosphere shift as more adventures stepped forward, taking the enchanted gear he offered. The Silver-ranks stared at him like he¡¯d grown another head, and he could see more than one glancing at his ring. But Rowan didn¡¯t care. He felt like a man possessed, pulling out armor and weapons faster than the adventures could process. They were starting to move with him, taking items without questions, their panic quickly fading. Some of them exchanged bewildered glances, still trying to comprehend how this much equipment had materialized out of nowhere. Yet they pushed those questions aside. The weapons crackled with energy, the armor gleamed with protection, and for the first time since the scout had raised the alarm, there was a glimmer of belief in their eyes. ¡°We might actually survive this¡­¡± someone muttered, barely loud enough to be heard, but the words carried through the camp like a prayer. Rowan handed a halbert to a grizzled Silver-ranked adventurer, a member of Laith¡¯s party. The man stared at the weapon for a heartbeat before gripping it tightly. He gave Rowan a sharp nod and returned to his team. Behind him, Velora and the mages worked furiously. Walls of earth began to rise around the camp, hastily constructed but sturdy enough to slow the incoming horde. A makeshift barricade. Quinea returned to Rowan¡¯s side, her gaze sweeping over adventurers as they armed themselves. ¡°By the gods,¡± she muttered, shaking her head. ¡°I won¡¯t even ask.¡± Rowan didn¡¯t look at her. His mind was still racing, thinking if there was anything more he could do. He closed his eyes and delved back into the Vault, taking a box and filling it to the brim with enchanted rings. ¡°Probably better that way,¡± he answered, calling over a group of adventurers and handing them the box. ¡°Make sure everyone gets one. They¡¯re enchanted with [Wind Barrier]. It¡¯s not going to stop a lethal blow, but it¡¯s enough to deflect an arrow or a wayward thrust.¡± The young woman nodded, rushing back towards the crowd. Rowan glanced up, watching as the adventurers began to form lines, their new gear giving them a renewed sense of purpose. Their fear wasn¡¯t gone, not completely, but it was no longer crippling. He closed his eyes, taking a deep, calming breath, his hand brushing against the surface of his ring. Once this battle was over, word of what he¡¯d done would spread, questions would be asked. And Rowan had no plans on being here when they were. The Grove made their way towards him, looking at him with equal parts confusion and awe. Omi broke the silence, glancing down at his daggers with a frown. ¡°Well now I don¡¯t feel special anymore.¡± Rowan laughed, the comment cutting through his runaway thoughts and grounding him. ¡°Sorry about that,¡± he replied. ¡°I could ask them to give all of it back if you want?¡± ¡°Probably best if you don¡¯t,¡± Omi said with a grin. Nemir walked up to him and clapped him on the shoulder, a serious expression on his face. ¡°You¡¯ve bought us a chance.¡± Rowan nodded. ¡°Now we just have to use it.¡± They settled in beside him, moving to the top of the walls to stare at the approaching horde. The goblins had crested the ridge and were halfway across the clearing already. Hundreds of them, snarling and screaming, rushing towards them. ¡°You owe us some answers after we win,¡± Annie spoke softly next to him. Rowan glanced at her, nodding slowly. ¡°After the battle.¡± There wasn¡¯t a point in hiding his identity anymore. Not to them. After the battle, he¡¯d be gone. Leaving his friends behind. Rowan pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. Now wasn¡¯t the time for them, he needed to focus. The goblins would be upon them in minutes. Turning around, he looked at the adventures, now standing stronger, braver. Seeing them like this, he knew he made the correct choice. They were ready, their weapons gleaming, their stances firm. Rowan clenched his fists, steeling himself for the battle to come.