《System Overload, a litrpg》 Awakening Rain patters lightly around me. It falls slowly, tiny rivulets flowing down my back and over my shoulders. My body aches, and I don''t want to open my eyes just yet. Something soft and damp presses against my legs, but I can''t bring myself to move. Three sharp beeps crash against the silence, sending spikes of pain through my skull. I wince and, with tremendous effort, crack one eye open. A silver screen flickers into existence in front of me. ERROR... HAS TAKEN NOTICE OF YOU. QUEST ISSUED. PROVE YOUR WORTH: OBJECTIVES: STAND UP REWARDS: CLASS CHANGE What? What is this? I try to move my hand toward the screen, but my arm refuses to budge. Paralyzed? No, that can''t be right--I can still feel the rain. The screen flickers, vanishing for a split second before reappearing, its glow pulsing faintly. But in that brief moment, I see something that freezes my blood. A corpse''s face-wrenched into a mask of terror My breath catches. The screen flickers again. The face reappears Again. Again. Again. Familiar. Too familiar. Minutes pass. Or hours? The rain stops. A faint warmth trickles into my fingertips. Movement. A small twitch. Then another. I focus, forcing my fingers to curl. It takes a dozen tries before I manage to form a weak fist. Pain bites through my arm as I reach toward the screen. My hand passes through= -and lands on cold, lifeless flesh. A corpse''s face. I jerk my hand back, biting down a gasp. Pain flares in my aching limbs, but it''s nothing compared to the ice spreading through my veins The screen fades slowly. This time, it doesn''t return. With effort, I turn my head away from the corpse. My neck pops multiple times as I force myself onto my side. It''s no better on this side. Only more corpses. I look down at what''s pressing against my legs-only to see the mound rise higher above me. I tear my gaze away from the corpses but my view is immediately swallowed by dense fog. I try to pull my legs free, but I don''t have the strength. A sharp beep pierces the silence as the silver screen flashes into my vision. CURRENT STRENGTH: 1 It disappears just as quickly as it comes. Strength? Does this mean I have other stats? Another beep. The screen blinks into existence again. CURRENT STATS: MAX HP [1] MAX STAMINA [1] STAMINA REGENERATION [0] MAX MANA [0] MANA REGENERATION [0] STRENGTH [1] AGILITY [1] ENDURANCE [4] INTELLIGENCE [4] WILLPOWER [7] PERCEPTION [2] LUCK [0] The screen fades again just as I finish reading. What are these stats? They''re terrible. I wait, hoping the screen will provide an answer, but it stays silent.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. This isn''t the best situation, but at least I''m not in immediate danger. As if on cue, I hear a distant howl. Laugh? Scream? I''m not sure. It starts high-pitched before warbling into something deeper. I can''t tell if it''s getting closer, but with all this meat around me, it''s only a matter of time before something hungry comes to investigate. I turn onto my back, grab my knee with both hands, and give it a sharp tug. My skin is still damp from the rain, making it slippery and difficult to pull free. It takes a few tries, but my first leg finally comes loose. The second is easier, and with nothing left pinning me down, I slide ungracefully down the pile of corpses. Thankfully, it isn''t a far drop, and more bodies cushion the fall. I pull myself upright, using the corpses for support. Three sharp beeps. The screen blinks to life once more. QUEST COMPLETE. YOU''VE BEEN AWARDED THE CLASS: ERROR... YOU''VE REACHED LEVEL 1 YOUR STATS HAVE INCREASED. MAX HP [1>5] MAX STAMINA [1>20] STAMINA REGENERATION [0>0.1] MAX MANA [0>50] MANA REGENERATION [0>0.5] STRENGTH [1>5] AGILITY [1>5] ENDURANCE [4>10] INTELLIGENCE [4>5] WILLPOWER [7>10] PERCEPTION [2>5] LUCK [0>1] YOU''VE GAINED A SKILL YOU''VE GAINED A SKILL YOU''VE GAINED A SKILL ACTIVE SKILLS [1/10] TIER 1 MANA SURGE: CAUSES A MAGICAL EXPLOSION USING PURE MANA. DAMAGE: 1 per MANA USED ¡Á SKILL LEVEL RANGE: 1ft ¡Á SKILL LEVEL COST: 100% CURRENT MANA PASSIVE SKILLS [1/10] TIER 1 MANA VAULT[1/100]: MULTIPLIES MAX MANA BY 1 ¡Á SKILL LEVEL. MANA CONVERSION[1/100] WHEN MANA POOL IS FULL COVERTS 1% MANA REGENERATION INTO HP. It takes me a few seconds to read through everything, but even longer to process it. The skills are great, and I can already feel strength flooding through my body. But my HP... If I get killed in one hit, nothing else matters. I take a few steps away from the pile of corpses before looking back. I''m completely naked. So are they. I don''t think I''m gonna find any equipment here. I hesitate. Just walking into the fog unarmed and bare-cheeked doesn''t sound appealing. I glance back at the pile, hoping against the odds that I missed something. Nope. I guess that point in Luck isn''t high enough to help here. I step forward into the fog. At least I have some kind of attack. Even though the range is awful, I wouldn''t want anything getting close enough to hit me. That warbling howl again. I stiffen and promptly alter my course to get further away. It sounds closer this time. I pick up the pace. Not quite running-I can''t see far ahead, and I don''t want to risk running blind. After a few minutes of power walking through the fog, a sudden beep startles me. QUEST ISSUED. FIND SOME EQUIPMENT: OBJECTIVES: FIND CLOTHES [0/1] FIND WEAPON [0/1] REWARDS: ACTIVE SKILL. I stop in my tracks. My eyes widen. I can get another skill just for doing something I was gonna do anyway. I''m starting to like this system already. A grin tugs at my lips as I start walking again. The ground is soft and soggy. Each footfall sinks slightly, squishing softly. Squish. Squish. Squish. A prickling unease crawls down my spine. Then- squish. A single footstep. Behind me. I whip around-only to be met with fog. I stare into the mist for minutes. Waiting. Just as I''m about to turn away, something catches my eye. A glimmer in the fog. I squint, trying to focus. But that''s all I can make out. I take a hesitant step forward. Nothing happens. Another step. Then another. The glimmer grows closer. A shape begins to form. Knee height. I freeze. I don''t know what this thing is. And I don''t want to find out. I take a step back. It lunges. Either it was closer than I thought-or it''s far faster than my eyes can track. Instinct kicks in. "MANA SURGE." A blinding explosion erupts as the creature crashes into me. The impact hammers me into the ground. WARNING: HP LOW. [0.4/5] WARNING: MANA LOW. [0/50] SKILL LEVEL UP! MANA GEYSER [2/100] EXP GAINED: [52/100] I stare at the silver screen, dazed. My skin burns. The scent of cooked flesh fills the air. Mine? Or the creature''s? Minutes pass. Agonizing. Then-relief. Slight. But there. A few more minutes, and I drag myself upright. The ground glistens red beneath me. I don''t think there''s anything left of that creature. I look down at my body. It''s pink and dry, and i can see a few burns healing over. I smile. At least, i won''t cripple myself if i use my skill. A sharp long beep followed by three shorter beeps as the screen appears again. WARNING... ERROR... SYSTEM OVERIDE IN PROGRESS... ERROR... I freeze. The air around me feels wrong... An ally? Five days ago, in the kingdom of Sylvaris. Gnarros studied the freshly summoned saplings with mild contempt. It hadn''t even been a full day, and already some of them whispered of rebellion against the Great Forest. No matter. They would be the first to go. Despite his disgust for these humans, a few caught his eye. A pair of similar-looking ones bickered in the corner. One¡ªchubby, cackling¡ªuntil the slightly larger one punched him in the arm. Not hard enough to injure, but firm enough to silence him. Nearby, a man dressed in strange finely woven leaves, spoke with authority. His voice, commanding yet steady, settled the younger boys. Along the wall, where the lesser humans gathered, a woman moved among them, consoling the tiny ones. And then¡ªa presence. A man, sitting in the farthest corner, avoiding Gnarros''s gaze. Almost too well. But Gnarros was old, and he had seen many tricks before. He would not be fooled so easily. Satisfied with his assessment, Gnarros turned to leave¡ªhaving already decided who among them would be allowed to live. Then¡ªa flicker of movement. A boy, peering over his knees. Long, stringy hair clung to his face. His dull silver eyes locked onto Gnarros with empty stillness. An icy breeze whispered through Gnarros''s leaves. Indoors. Gnarros stiffened. That one. That one will be the first to go. ... SYSTEM OVERRIDE COMPLETE. REBOOTING. Before I could even finish reading the message, a gnawing pain tore through my skull. I collapse to my knees, gasping. Each ragged breath burns as if I''m inhaling fire. Something claws behind my eyes¡ªan unbearable pressure, as if my brain itself is trying to escape. I roll onto my back, hands clutching my throat, desperate to stop the fire from spreading inside me. One problem at a time. The gnawing in my skull intensifies. I squeeze my eyes shut as a sharp beep pierces through the pain. Then¡ªrelief. The pressure fades, and the burning in my lungs dulls to a mere sting. I open my eyes cautiously. The silver screen flickers back to life. REBOOT COMPLETE. NEW SYSTEM UNLOCKED: GUIDANCE. ERROR. MEMORY CAP REACHED. EXCESS MEMORY DELETED.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. Memory deleted? Mine? I try to remember. Nothing. I dig deeper, desperate for anything¡ªany hint of who I was before. But there''s nothing. Nothing before waking up on that pile of corpses. I''m too exhausted to feel anger. Something deep down tells me those memories wouldn''t help me here anyway. A sharp beep pulls me from my thoughts. The screen flickers into my vision, shattering my focus. What? I stare at the screen, confused. It flickers softly, waiting. "Uh¡­ I guess?" I startle at the sound of my own voice. It''s scrachy, and i think it carried too far into the fog. The text warps and glitches. "What opportunity?" I glance around, searching for anything, but all I see is dense fog. "Free you? From what? And why should I?" I feel my brow tighten. I won''t blindly serve something I don''t understand. I''d rather get eaten with the other corpses. I consider that for a moment. If it''s going to help me, it can''t be all bad, I suppose. "Fine. What do I need to do?" I stand, attempting to brush the muck from my knees, only to smear it further. I glance down at my body. "Makes sense¡­ Which way?" I nod and start walking. "Thanks, I guess¡­ So¡­ who are you?" I pause, then ask the bigger question. "And what happened to my memories?" "Why is your name censored?" A moment of silence. I nod, picking up my pace. I strain my ears. Nothing. Just my own footsteps. A warbling howl echoes through the fog. Somewhere behind me. I pick up my pace¡ªI don''t want that thing getting closer. Several more howls rise in the distance. Thankfully, none ahead. "What are those things?" I roll my eyes. As if I didn''t already know that. I keep walking for several minutes, the occasional howl echoing behind me. Each time, the distance sounds the same. "How much longer do I need to¡ª" My foot slips. The ground vanishes beneath me. I slide down a slope, slamming into something hard. A sharp crack. Pain flares in my leg. I wince¡ªbut almost instantly, the relief sets in. My skill is already healing me. I glare into the thick fog. Not my fault I can''t see a damn thing. I squint, barely making out a massive silhouette at the edge of my vision. I limp toward it. Halfway there, my leg snaps again¡ªand this time, I can put more pressure on it. At least one of my skills is useful. "What is this place?" I frown. "Yeah, but what was it before that?" I feel my eye twitch. "Are you doing that on purpose?" I sigh heavily. Not worth it. I reach the crumbling stone wall of a building. There''s no door on this side, so I start circling around. My fingers trail along the cold bricks. A chunk crumbles off and falls to the ground. "Nope. This is basically my daily routine." I say sarcastically. The screen doesn''t respond. I reach an old wooden door. The soggy wood buckles under my touch, collapsing inward. The hinges squeak softly. I step over the pile of rotted wood and into the dark building. A bright silver light flares over my shoulder. I turn my head. A glitching screen hovers behind me, its text a flickering mess of jumbled letters. But the light it casts is steady. "Thanks." I chuckle softly. Sure. If I believe that. The room is nearly empty. A broken shelf filled with shattered clay shards. What used to be a wooden bed. A dusty old chest sitting at its foot. And a pile of bones slumped against the wall. I try to open the chest. Locked. Helpful as always. I press my hand into the wooden lid. Solid. But¡­ there''s a little give. I slam my fist down. Crack. Nothing. I hit it again. Splinters. Again. My hand punches through the lid. Pain flashes through my fingers. I pull my hand back¡ªwatching as my knuckles twist and snap back into place. I''m going to enjoy this healing skill. I tear the hole wider until I can see inside. Cloth. I reach in, pulling out a heavy, tattered robe. It stinks of mold. But it''s better than nothing. I wrap it around myself, fastening it as best I can. It''s too big, and there''s a hole in the lower back. "I''m gonna sleep first." I ease myself onto the bed. The rotting straw shifts beneath me. It''s damp. I don''t care. The screen flickers out. A gust of wind slips through the doorframe. A chill crawls past my robe. I pull it tighter. As I drift off, a thought lingers at the edge of my mind. The howls never stopped. But now, they''re silent. Heros of Sylvaris pt 1 Four days ago, in the kingdom of Sylvaris. Jason lay on the bed the strange tree people had provided. He stared up at the ceiling, searching for anything to distract himself from what his life had become. Just moments ago-or at least, it felt like moments ago-he''d been running. Or trying to. But no matter how fast he ran, he couldn''t outrun a bullet. Or so he''d thought. Now? Now he supposed he didn''t have to worry about his past catching up to him. He rolled over in bed, exhaling slowly. With a thought, he summoned the golden screen that held his ''class.'' CLASS: SEER MAX HP [10] MAX STAMINA [15] STAMINA REGENERATION [0.2] MAX MANA [30] MANA REGENERATION [0.3] STRENGTH [2] AGILITY [7.5] ENDURANCE [3] INTELLIGENCE [5] WILLPOWER [5] PERCEPTION [8] LUCK [5] ACTIVE SKILLS [1/5] TIER 1: FUTURE SIGHT: [1/100] PEER INTO THE IMMEDIATE FUTURE EFFECT: SEE UP TO 1 (1¡ÁSKILL LEVEL) SECONDS INTO THE FUTURE COST: 5 [5¡ÁSECONDS PEERED INTO THE FUTURE] MANA PER SECOND. PASSIVE SKILLS [1/5] TIER 1: REACTION SPEED: [1/100] SLIGHTLY BOOSTS YOUR AGILITY. EFFECTS: 0.5 (0.5¡ÁSKILL LEVEL) Blessings: [1] BLESSING OF THE CROW: ALLOWS YOU TO SPEAK AND UNDERSTAND ANY LANGUAGE YOU''VE HEARD. He chuckled softly to himself, wondering if this was some kind of joke played by God. Was this the afterlife? Or had he really been summoned to another world? Either way, this place was strange. At least the food was good, and the bed was comfortable. He couldn''t remember the last time he''d slept so well. And for once, he didn''t have to look over his shoulder. A soft knock rapped against the door. Jason sat up quickly, hesitating before moving to answer. He pulled it open to reveal a short creature made of woven vines. A large purple flower bloomed atop its head, its petals shifting slightly. "Hello, hero! I hope I''m not disturbing you." The creature chittered in a sing-song tone. Jason blinked. "Ah... no, I was just lying in bed." He hesitated, then added, "And just call me Jay, please."If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. He''d never been called a hero before. It didn''t really suit him. The vine creature giggled. "You''re nicer than the others, Jay-hero!" It reached up, brushing a petal from its face. "I''ve come to guide you to Master Gnarros." It extended its hand toward him-but didn''t take his. A silent offer. Jason hesitated. Then, with a slow breath, he took the creature''s hand. If this was his life now, it would be best to get friendly with the natives. He was tired of having so many enemies. The creature led Jason out of his room and into the canopy. Jason looked around in awe. It had been too dark to see the night before, but now the sun filtered through the leaves in golden shafts of light. They walked along a wooden platform, built along the side of a tree bigger than anything Jason had ever seen. The morning light glistened off dew-drenched flowers, droplets sliding off their petals before disappearing below. Jason braved a glance downward. He couldn''t see the ground through the thick layers of leaves. "What is this place, uhh...?" He hesitated. "Wait... what was your name?" Calling it "creature" didn''t feel right. "My name is Spriggle!" It let out a chittering giggle. "And this is the Great Forest." They walked in companionable silence for a few more steps before Sriggle slowed slightly. "Or umm... I''ve heard the outsiders call it... Sillvairius? I think..." It paused, fiddling with the petals on its head. "Master Gnarros knows more about the outsiders than I do." Its petals lifted slightly, as if perking up. "I''m sure he''ll teach you a lot!" It resumed walking, more certain now. Jason nodded thoughtfully. He glanced out at the endless canopy, lost in thought. What kind of other creatures lived in this world? He hoped they would be just as friendly. Sriggle led Jason to a grand set of doors. "Master Gnarros waits for you inside, Jay-hero." It released his hand. "He shouldn''t need you for too long... Can you find your way back to your room after?" Jason thought for a moment, then nodded. They hadn''t walked too far. "Would it be okay if I wandered around after he''s done with me?" Jason glanced around. "I''d love to get a better look at the Great Forest." Sriggle fidgeted, its petals shifting. "It would be better if you went back to your room after... but I could show you around this afternoon if you''d like." Jason nodded, smiling. "That''s probably for the best. I wouldn''t want to get lost." He chuckled. Sriggle''s petals perked up, and it giggled. "Then I''ll see you later, Jay-hero!" With a spring in its step, Sriggle turned and walked away. Jason watched it go. He wasn''t used to kindness. Not from people. Not from tree creatures, either. He took a breath. Then, pushing open the doors, he stepped inside. The one he assumed was Gnarros sat at a desk, tapping it impatiently. "You''ve arrived. Good." Its voice was deep, grinding out like bark scraping against bark. It stood, wood creaking heavily. Nearly eight feet tall, at least by Jason''s estimate. Jason hesitated, then dropped to one knee. "What did you need, Master Gnarros?" Gnarros studied him thoughtfully. "Stand, child. While I appreciate your eagerness, you should hear what I have to say before pledging yourself fully." Jason rose, uncertain. Gnarros turned, gazing out through an open section of the wall. "I do not know much of your world. And I can honestly say I have no interest in it." He paused, then continued. "We have a tradition here. Trimming the dying branches before they spread corruption to the tree. Through this, we ensure the Great Forest thrives and continues to grow." He turned back to Jason. "Do you understand?" Jason hesitated. The words made sense. And even if they didn''t... He nodded. He wouldn''t risk the peace he''d wanted for so long. Gnarros watched him for a moment, then nodded. He gestured toward the desk. "Take it." Jason''s brow tightened. On the desk lay a glimmering knife, its twisted wooden hilt resting in silence. It waited. A ball of ice settled in his stomach. He stepped forward, slowly. Fingers closing around the hilt. "What am I supposed to do with it?" Jason''s voice felt distant in his own ears. "Trim the rotten branches." Gnarros''s words were steady. Absolute. The doors opened again. Two taller, flowerless versions of Sriggle stepped inside. They carried a woman between them. Her head lolled. Eyes unfocused. The ice in Jason''s stomach spread, veins running cold. His gaze fell to the knife. He had believed he wouldn''t have to kill again. His jaw clenched. If this is the price for my new life... Then so be it. Candlelight A soft beeping pulled me from sleep. The smell of moldy straw filled my nose as I stirred, slowly becoming aware of my surroundings. I opened my eyes. The now-familiar silver screen flickered into view. I groaned, rolling onto my side. The rotting mattress was still damp, but at least it was warm from my body heat. "What would I even eat?" My voice came out rough, scratchy. "This place is old and musty. There''s nothing here but bones." A sharp beep. The screen shifted into my vision. I sat up quickly. Someone else? Here? The screen would have woken me if they were a threat... right? It said it would. A sharp pain ripped through my stomach. I gritted my teeth. "How would I even fight them? I haven''t found a weapon yet." I glanced around the room again, hoping I''d missed something. I turned to the ragged frame. Old wood, barely holding together. I grabbed a loose board at the head of the bed... then stopped. The wood crumbled away at my touch. Useless. I searched through the chest again. Nothing but the robe. Then, my gaze drifted to the pile of bones. Maybe... Maybe they''d been carrying a weapon before they died. I knelt beside the remains, sifting through them. A few dull metal circles-coins, maybe? Nothing big enough to swing. Then, I saw something that might work. Well-two things. But I only needed one. A large bone, nearly the length of my arm. Caked in grime and age. I wrapped my fingers around it. Solid. Heavy. It felt right. Somehow. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. I stiffened, feeling like I was caught doing something I shouldn''t. QUEST COMPLETE. YOU''VE BEEN AWARDED THE SKILL: MANA SENSE. MAX HP [5] MAX STAMINA [20] STAMINA REGENERATION [0.1] MAX MANA [50] MANA REGENERATION [0.5] STRENGTH [5] AGILITY [5] ENDURANCE [10] INTELLIGENCE [5] WILLPOWER [10] PERCEPTION [5] LUCK [1] ACTIVE SKILLS [2/10] TIER 1 MANA SURGE [2/100] CAUSES A MAGICAL EXPLOSION USING PURE MANA. DAMAGE: 1 per MANA USED ¡Á SKILL LEVEL [2-100] RANGE: 1ft ¡Á SKILL LEVEL [2ft] COST: 100% CURRENT MANA MANA SENSE [1/100] ALLOWS THE USER TO SENSE ALL SOURCES OF MANA WITHIN RANGE. EFFECT: SENSE MANA UP TO 10FT [10¡ÁSKILL LEVEL] AWAY. COST: UP TO 1 [1¡Á10ft] MANA PER SECOND. PASSIVE SKILLS [1/10] TIER 1 MANA VAULT [1/100]: MULTIPLIES MAX MANA BY 1 ¡Á SKILL LEVEL. MANA CONVERSION [3/100] WHEN MANA POOL IS FULL COVERTS 3% MANA REGENERATION INTO HP. I scan the skill description, nodding in approval. This would make it significantly harder for anything to sneak up on me. I flick my finger across the screen, pulling up the quest menu. QUEST ISSUED. GROW YOUR STRENGTH: OBJECTIVES: INCREASE ALL SKILLS TO LEVEL 10 [0/4] REACH LEVEL 10 [0/1] REWARDS: BLESSING "How am I supposed to do that?" My stomach growled loudly. I frowned, my brows tightening. "What did you mean by ''Unethical''? You want me to eat a person-why isn''t that ''unethical''?" A short pause. Then the text flickered back. I stiffened. If you do not wish to eat them, you could attempt to hunt a monster instead. It would be significantly harder to accomplish. Would it really be okay to eat someone? I grimaced. Hunting a monster sounded dangerous, especially with how Mana Geyser worked. If I misused it, I might blow myself up before even seeing my target. "We could try talking to them. Maybe they''ll help me." I exhaled slowly. Starving. Fighting. Eating a corpse. No good options. I sighed, stepping through the rotting doorframe and back into the fog. "Which building are they in?" I nodded and activated the skill. "Mana Sense." The fog shimmered softly. But... Nothing. No silhouettes, no movement. "What now?" I winced, heat creeping into my face. Right. I began circling the stone building. A low hum settled at the back of my mind-Mana Sense running in the background. After a minute of searching, the range expanded. Then, at the very edge of my perception- A dense ball of mana. I froze. "Is that them?" My fingers tightened around the bone. I moved closer. The mana flickered-a small silver flame. Like a candle held in the dark. Suddenly- A wave of dizziness. The sensation snapped away. Mana Sense cut out. I stumbled. Must''ve run out of mana. But now... I could see the building ahead. I kept moving. I nodded, slowing my pace. Better to be quiet. Inside, I could hear fire crackling. A faint, rhythmic sound. Scraping metal. I peered through the doorframe. A man clad in rusted, worn armor sat in a wooden chair. A sword in his grip, a whetstone gliding across its edge. His hair drifted upward, as if suspended in water. It parted over sharp features, revealing pointed ears. "Atan. Mana carily? sinom??" His voice was flat, emotionless. I froze, pulling back from the doorway. I hesitated. Then, exhaling slowly, I stepped into the doorway fully. "I was looking for food." The man paused, turning his head toward me. His gaze lingered. "Umin quete lamlya. Na lerya." His hand lifted slightly, motioning me inside. I gingerly stepped forward, shuffling inside. Keeping close to the wall, I lowered myself near the door. The man resumed sharpening his sword. Occasionally, he adjusted something above the fire. A piece of meat. My stomach growled, loud in the silence. The man stopped. Mid-motion, blade poised against the whetstone. For a moment, he seemed thoughtful. Then, he pulled the meat from the fire. He examined it. Tore off roughly half. And tossed it to me. I wasn''t expecting it. Didn''t catch it. It hit the floor. I snatched it up anyway. Shoved it into my mouth. It tasted like mud and fire. Didn''t matter. It''s better than the hunger pains. I looked up. The man was staring at me. His sword, at least, was now sheathed. The fire crackled softly. Neither of us spoke. We just stared. After a moment, the elf leaned back, crossing his arms. "Mana esselya?" The words came calm, steady. Not quite a question. More like a demand. I opened my mouth-then hesitated. My name is... Nothing. I searched my thoughts. Blank. I glanced down at my hands. At the bone. An idea formed. I grinned, holding it up triumphantly. "My name is Bone!" The man stared at me. Just for a moment. Then, a hint of sadness flickered across his face. Faint. But undeniable. He pointed at me. "Essenya m¨¢r n¨¢ Narmo." Then at himself. "Nany? Vorondil." I let the words settle. A smile crept onto my face. "Narmo..." I repeated it, testing the sound. "That sounds a lot better than Bone." Vorondil nodded. Expression blank, unreadable. He turned back to the fire. We sat in silence. Dragon of Calamity Drazuul licked his wounds. His body ached, still recovering from his last fight with the gatekeeper. Had it been days? Weeks? Time was meaningless here. The sun never moved. Not that he could see it through the endless fog. If only he still had his wings. Then he could take flight-escape. Nothing would be able to stop him. A scent drifted through the air. Rotting flesh. His stomach growled. A feast would hasten his recovery. And then... He could challenge the gatekeeper again. Especially if he could avoid that damned knight. Or, better yet... Find a way to finally get the upper hand. They had always been evenly matched. Which meant acknowledging that a scrawny elf could match his might. Drazuul''s jaw clenched. Unacceptable. He followed the scent, weaving through the fog. Then, he found them. A pile of corpses. Denizens of this foul place feasted upon them. He crept forward. Slow. Silent. They would flee the moment they sensed him. Not this time. A clawed hand shot out. He skewered one, popping it into his maw before it could scream. Its bones crunched between his teeth. He swallowed fast. Didn''t bother to taste it. Another snatched. Devoured just as quickly. This one had been clinging to a body. Rot seeped into his mouth. He snarled. The other creatures froze. Then-Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. They scampered off. At least they were smart enough to recognize his superiority. He let them go. Chasing them would be beneath him. Instead, he turned to the corpses. At first glance, they resembled elves. But... Their ears. Not as pointed. Had they been cut? He remembered. A punishment for common criminals. But this was Limbo. They wouldn''t send just any criminal here. After all- He himself had committed treason against the emperor. And for that, he was damned. He chuckled. Remembering the way they had tried to hold themselves above him. Weak. He looked closer. Considering eating a fresher one. Then- A flicker of memory. A word. Humans. A shudder ran through him. Unbidden. Uncontrolled. Unwelcome. Those things. Dangerous when left unchecked. A scar near his heart itched. As if it too remembered. Rage billowed in his chest. The longer he thought about them... The smug faces. The disgust. They had seen him as nothing more than a mindless animal. His snarl cut through the silence. His talons slammed down. The pile of corpses scattered. What wasn''t crushed beneath him was sent rolling into the fog. That damn swordsman. Drazuul gritted his fangs. That bastard hadn''t even finished the fight properly. Hadn''t even delivered the killing blow. He had just walked away. As if Drazuul was nothing. Heat blossomed in his chest. Burning. Rising. A primal fury. He threw his head back and roared. The fog split apart. For a single moment- He could see past it. Then- The heat surged higher. Behind his fangs, flames danced. He exhaled. A wave of fire roared out. Condensed. Focused. Relentless. The scattered bodies ignited. Flames devoured them whole. Burned them beyond recognition. A funeral they did not deserve. ---- We watched the fire flicker softly. The warmth. The stillness. I could grow to enjoy this place. Of course, I''d need to learn Vorondil''s language. He seemed like a good guy. And staying near him? That would definitely keep me alive longer. But... I still had a quest to complete. And I still didn''t know what a Blessing was. A special skill, maybe? A guttural roar tore through the silence. My body moved before I could think. Hand snatching up the bone club. I looked to Vorondil. He was already staring at the doorframe. Still. Listening. Then, he stood. Fast. Precise. With a fluid motion, he secured his sword at his hip. Then, without a word- He stepped through the door. But just before disappearing into the fog- He paused. Didn''t turn back. Didn''t hesitate. Just spoke. "Nam¨¢ri?, Narmo. ¨¢va fir?." Then, he was gone. "What did he say?" I peered into the fog, but there was nothing but emptiness. I frowned at the screen. I grimaced. It wasn''t wrong. But that didn''t mean I had to like hearing it. I exhaled sharply. No use dwelling. "I guess I should start practicing my skills." My voice came out hollow. "Where should I start?" I blinked. I nodded slowly. It knew the system. Even if it was questionable in other ways. For now... I''d trust its advice. "And my class level?" I tightened my grip on the bone club. "Okay, then. Let''s get started." ---- Vorondil dashed through the fog. A familiar path. An unbroken cycle. It had been some time since he had tested his blade against draconian scales. The appearance of the human had been unexpected. But it changed nothing. This was routine. Fight. Rest. Train. Fight. Rest. Train. Challenge the Gatekeeper. Rest. Train. Fight. Centuries. Of this imitation of life. Perhaps things would change now. Perhaps they would stay the same. Either way- He fought all the same. Creatures scampered past him. They altered their paths slightly-just enough to avoid him. They weren''t what his blade desired. Then- The scent of charred flesh. Flickers of fire. He slowed his pace. Drazuul''s snarls carried through the fog. Low. Rumbling. Seething. It must have fought the Gatekeeper again. It would be tired. Vorondil considered turning back. Letting the beast lick its wounds. He didn''t want to slay it yet. It still had more to offer him. If it wasn''t at its best, there would be no fight worth having. But then... He considered its rage. Perhaps it would fight harder than before. He strode forward. Confident. Unwavering. Past the burning remains of a corpse. As the smoke curled into the fog- He disappeared into the mist. An uneasy alliance I sit on the damp ground, watching mana swirl through the fog. Distant booms and roars echo through the air. The sounds of battle. I activate the skill. A sharp pop rings out, bouncing off the buildings. The sting crawls across my skin, but it''s nothing like the first time. "Is there a way to make this less dangerous?" I stretch my fingers, feeling the stinging itch roll across my skin. "I don''t like the idea of blowing up every time I use my skills." Level 100? I''m struggling just to get to level 10. "How long will that take?" I sigh. If I had to sit here for years, I''d probably die of boredom before anything else. A roar rips through the distance. Low. Furious. "What do you think is happening over there?" Helpful as always. I exhale through my nose and activate it. Immediately- The range feels bigger. Even though I can''t see the buildings, I can see the mana. Sparks, blowing in the breeze. They twist through the air, brushing against the walls, the fog, me. Some of them- Flow into me. Like they''re being drawn in. I yawn. Another roar echoes-straining this time. Like something exerting itself. "What do you think that is?" I just want to pass the time. I roll my eyes. Of course. I focus on the sparks again. Above me, the mana thickens. Denser. Flowing in currents.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. Some race in one direction, others swirl in chaotic bursts. Almost like... Wind. Minutes pass. Nothing but the swaying mana and distant echoes. I trigger the skill again. Another pop. This time, the sting barely registers. Was I getting stronger? Or just getting used to the pain? I pull up my stat screen while waiting for my mana to recover. CLASS: ERROR HP: [1.4] MANA [2.3] MAX HP [5] MAX STAMINA [20] STAMINA REGENERATION [0.1] MAX MANA [200] MANA REGENERATION [0.5] STRENGTH [5] AGILITY [5] ENDURANCE [10] INTELLIGENCE [6] WILLPOWER [14] PERCEPTION [6] LUCK [1] ACTIVE SKILLS [2/10] TIER 1 MANA GEYSER [7/100] CAUSES A MAGICAL EXPLOSION USING PURE MANA. DAMAGE: 1 per MANA USED ¡Á SKILL LEVEL [7-1,400] RANGE: 1ft ¡Á SKILL LEVEL [7ft] COST: 100% CURRENT MANA MANA SENSE [9/100] ALLOWS THE USER TO SENSE ALL SOURCES OF MANA WITHIN RANGE. EFFECT: SENSE MANA UP TO 90FT [10¡ÁSKILL LEVEL] AWAY. COST: UP TO 9 [1¡Á10ft] MANA PER SECOND. PASSIVE SKILLS [2/10] TIER 1 MANA VAULT [4/100]: MULTIPLIES MAX MANA BY 1 ¡Á SKILL LEVEL. [50¡Á4] MANA CONVERSION [6/100] WHEN MANA POOL IS FULL COVERTS 6% MANA REGENERATION INTO HP. I stare at my stats. Pride settles in my chest. I''m so close to completing my quest. Then- I pause. Something''s off. "Why did my stats go up?" I blink. I grin. So, that''s how it works. "How would I increase those?" Excitement builds in my chest. I frown at the screen. It makes sense, but still... Then, a different question worms its way into my mind. "What do the stats actually do?" I nod. Most of those make sense. But luck... That felt a little vague. I inhale deeply. The questions can wait. I activate Mana Sense. ---- Vorondil sits, cleaning the blood from his blade. Sweat drips down his brow- Sizzles as it hits the scales beneath him. Drazuul pants heavily. The bastard elf sits atop his back-gloating in victory. Again. "Have you tried not moving so damn much?" Drazuul grumbles between labored breaths. He hates speaking Elvish. But Vorondil won. So he''ll grant him this. Vorondil remains seated. Movements slow. Methodical. He wipes his blade clean, unbothered. There is no gloating. Only routine. "Have you tried actually hitting your target?" His voice is even. Calm. Untouched by exhaustion. He tilts his sword, inspecting the edge against the dying embers around them. Satisfied, he sheathes it with practiced ease. Then- A slow exhale. He rises. Stepping off Drazuul''s back with the same indifference one might show stepping over a fallen log. Drazuul huffs unsteadily. Breath ragged. Heavy. He would never tolerate such disrespect from another. But this elf... They had fought many times. Drazuul had only bested him a handful. Once, he had convinced himself they were equals. But now- The truth was undeniable. It just stepped off his back. Vorondil turned to leave, vanishing into the fog. "Wait..." The word escaped before he could stop it. Weak. Almost reluctant. Vorondil stopped. But he did not turn. Did not respond. Drazuul swallowed the taste of blood in his mouth. His claws dug into the scorched earth. "You had the scent of human on you." His voice was low. A growl lurking beneath the words. "Have you seen one?" Silence. Then- Vorondil turned. His green eyes met Drazuul''s. Cold. Measured. A stare that froze Drazuul in place. For the first time in a long time- He felt fear. Drazuul shook his head. No. Not fear. It had been too long since he''d felt that. He forced himself to speak. "How strong are they?" A flicker of emotion crosses Vorondil''s face. For the first time- Confusion. "He''s weaker than the carrion here." Vorondil''s hand shifts to his sword. Not as a threat. But as a promise. Drazuul exhales slowly. Carefully choosing his next words. Treading a razor''s edge. "We both know how powerful they can become." He swallows down the knot of resentment. It tastes bitter. Like ash. "We could use him to get past the Gatekeeper." He hates the idea. He hates needing a human. But- If he can''t beat the elf... Then he''ll never get past the Gatekeeper alone. Vorondil''s eyes narrow. "What are you saying?" His voice sharpens. Like a drawn blade. He won''t allow the boy to be sacrificed. Drazuul''s teeth clench. A flare of irritation. "We could train him." The words taste vile. "Make him powerful." The idea is disgusting. But- "Then the three of us could fight together." He shudders. At the thought. At the humiliation. At the reality. Vorondil''s jaw tightens. His eyes lock onto Drazuul. Hate. Pain. Acceptance. The dragon knew what this meant. Vorondil nods. Then turns to leave. But- He pauses. "If he dies..." His voice is steady. Cold. Absolute. "You''ll join him." He steps into the fog. Doesn''t look back. Doesn''t wait for an answer. Drazuul''s fangs grind against each other. A low, rumbling growl vibrates in his throat. But- He exhales. And follows. Heros of Sylvaris pt.2 Two days ago, in the kingdom of Sylvaris. Sedrick sat at the table, finishing his meal. At least these creatures knew how to cook. Hunting? That, he was good at. Cooking? Not so much. For a brief moment, he wondered¡ª How would they taste? He shoved the thought away. They had been kind enough. Aside from¡­ Having to kill someone to stay here. He hadn''t liked that. But he could numb himself to it. He had pictured the man as a wounded animal. Something that needed to be put down. It didn''t help much. But it was better than thinking about what he had done. He shook his head. Pushed the thought back. It was easier that way. Not thinking. The others would be arriving soon. One of the creatures had explained something about a dungeon. Whatever that was. He just hoped he''d see something familiar. Maybe even something tasty. He finished his meal in silence. Looking around, he saw several plant people eating. He had thought plants only needed sunlight and water. But he wasn''t an expert. He shrugged it off. He sighed and pulled up his golden screen. The interface reminded him of the games his son used to play. The thought came unbidden. He shoved it down. Hard. --- CLASS: BEAST TAMER MAX HP [20] MAX STAMINA [20] STAMINA REGENERATION [0.3] MAX MANA [30] MANA REGENERATION [0.1] STRENGTH [7] AGILITY [5] ENDURANCE [3] INTELLIGENCE [2] WILLPOWER [7] PERCEPTION [6] LUCK [10] ACTIVE SKILLS [1/5] Tame (1/100) ¨C Attempt to tame target creature. Chance to tame = Skill Level (1%) Max tamable creatures = Skill Level ¡Â 10 (0/1) Cost: 10 Mana (For every additional 10 Mana spent, chance increases by 2%) PASSIVE SKILLS [1/5] Heightened Senses (1/100) ¨C Focus to enhance perception by 10% (Skill Level ¡Á 10%). BLESSINGS [1] Blessing of the Crow ¨C Understand and speak any language you''ve heard. --- Sedrick scratched the back of his head. The words mostly made sense. Some of them felt complicated. But¡­ He liked animals. The thought of being surrounded by loyal dogs¡­ That was a good one. He chuckled. For the first time in a while. "Ahh... glad to see someone''s already here." Jason slid into the seat across from Sedrick. His eyes flicked to the empty bowl. "Food any good?" He gestured toward it. "Yeah. Decent." Sedrick tensed slightly. Something about Jason''s gaze¡­Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. It reminded him of a predator. Like a cougar he had seen once¡ª Waiting. Calculating. He pushed that thought down. Like all the others. "I could go for another bowl, actually." He tried to smile. It felt forced. Jason nodded, watching him. Like he had noticed something. "Do they have waitresses¡ªerr, waitplants?" Jason paused, rethinking his words. "Do they come to the table, or do we order at the bar?" "They''ll come to the table eventually." As if on cue, a slender mass of vines slithered over. "Ahh, another customer." Its voice came out in a hiss. "I''ll have what he had. And he''ll take another as well." Jason spoke easily, like he was used to dealing with them. "Oh, and we''ll have three more joining us soon. Bring food for them too." He set a small bag on the table. The plant creature bowed and took it. "It''ll be out soon." Then it turned and slithered away. Sedrick watched the bag disappear. The plant people had given them all a pouch of coins. Sedrick had spent his already. A chestplate, boots, helmet, and a wooden club. Barely enough left for a meal. Jason, though¡ª Still wore the same suit. Except now, a purple flower stuck out of the breast pocket. "Thanks for paying for the food." Sedrick tried to laugh. It felt forced, again. "Oh, it''s no big deal." Jason waved it off. His smile looked practiced. "Just buy me a meal when we get back." Then¡ª He leaned forward. Elbows on the table. Eyes sharp. "They tell you anything about the dungeon?" Sedrick shrugged. "Not much." Jason opened his mouth to speak¡ª But a battleaxe slammed onto the table with a heavy thud. "Would you take a look at this beauty!" Alex grinned widely as he dropped into the seat beside Sedrick. "Spent that whole bag of coins on it." "Quiet down, Alex." Jamie sighed, sitting across from him. "This is a restaurant. People are trying to eat." He glanced over his shoulder. Several plant people were eyeing them warily. Sedrick relaxed slightly as the boys settled in. They were good kids. Despite everything that had happened. "Jay bought us food." Sedrick smiled. This time, it felt natural. "Oh. Just call me Jay." Jason chuckled. "What kind?" Alex leaned back, grinning. "Hope it''s meat." "Thank you, Jay. From both of us." Jamie kicked Alex under the table. "Ow! I was gonna say it!" Alex shot him a glare. Sedrick let out a laugh. He had missed eating with others. For just a moment, he thought of his family. Then¡ª He shoved the memory back down. Jason glanced at him. A strange look¡ªlike he had noticed something. But he didn''t press. Instead, Sedrick turned to Jamie. "So, what did you get?" Sedrick asked, genuinely curious. Or at least, trying to be. Jamie blinked at the empty bowl. For a second, he looked confused¡ª Then he realized what Sedrick meant. "Oh!" He leaned to the side, pulling a well-made leather bag onto the table. "I bought a few books. And this bag to carry them in." "My class lets me learn magic by studying." He opened one of the books, flipping through pages of strange symbols and diagrams. Sedrick''s eyes glazed over. The writing might as well have been gibberish. Jamie kept going, oblivious. "Some of them are in strange languages, but with the blessing we all got, I''ll learn them with ease." Sedrick nodded, leaning back in his chair. "That''s... very interesting." Jamie beamed, flipping another page. "I know, right?" "Here you go." The vine creature slithered up to the table, setting down five bowls of mushroom soup. Sedrick hadn''t even noticed it approach. As it pulled back, its movement knocked one of the bowls toward the table''s edge. Jason snatched it midair with ease, setting it back down before a single drop could spill. Almost as if he had known it would happen. "Oh! I''m very sorry, please forgive me!" The creature bowed deeply. "No harm done." Jason raised both hands in a calming gesture, a slight smile on his face. "Thank you, Hero." The creature smiled, setting a half-full bag of coins on the table. "If there''s anything else, feel free to ask." It bowed again before slithering away. Jason grabbed the bag as the others pulled their bowls closer. "Great catch," Alex said through a mouthful of soup. "You''ve got amazing reflexes." Jason nodded, brushing off the compliment. "Did you two hear anything about the dungeon?" Alex opened his mouth to speak¡ª Jamie''s foot hit his shin under the table. "Swallow first." Jamie glared, then schooled his expression before turning to Jason. "We haven''t heard anything yet." Jamie stirred his soup thoughtfully. "I assume neither of you have either?" Jason and Sedrick shook their heads in unison. "What about Laura?" Jason leaned forward. "She should be joining us too, right?" Jamie shook his head. "We haven''t even met her yet." He poked at his soup with his spoon, hesitant. "If you don''t want that¡ª" Alex started to reach for Jamie''s bowl¡ª Another kick. "Come on!" Alex rubbed his shin, wincing. "At least kick the other leg!" Sedrick chuckled and slid his own bowl toward Alex. "I already ate," he said. "Growing boys need to eat, right?" Alex grinned but hesitated. His eyes darted to Jamie, as if expecting another kick. "Uhh¡­ thanks!" He grabbed the bowl quickly before Jamie could change his mind. Jamie grinned like a wolf¡ª And kicked him again. Alex choked on his soup. "Dammit, Jamie!" "You shouldn''t speak like that, child¡­" The voice was soft, gentle¡ª Yet Sedrick felt his heart seize. He turned. And for a moment¡ª Everything stopped. A woman stood behind him. Her eyes were warm and kind, yet filled with something heavier. A sadness that settled deep. Sedrick forced himself to look away. And shoved those emotions down. "...Sorry," Alex muttered, his face turning red. He rubbed his shin again. Jamie chuckled. Alex glared at him¡ª But the embarrassment was impossible to hide. "This bowl is for you." Jason slid a bowl of soup to the empty seat beside Sedrick. Sedrick tensed. Did Jason do that on purpose? His gaze flickered toward Jason, searching for a sign¡ª But Jason was winking at Alex instead. Shifting the focus. Helping Alex save face. Sedrick shook his head, pushing the thought away. He was being stupid. Laura settled into the seat beside him. "Thank you¡­ umm¡­" She hesitated, realizing she didn''t know their names. "I''m Jay." Jason inclined his head politely. "This is Jamie, Alex, and Sedrick." He gestured around the table. "A pleasure to meet each of you." Laura''s voice was gentle, but there was something heavy in it. She folded her hands¡ª A silent prayer¡ª Then stopped. Her eyes swept across the table. The others had mostly finished their meals. Her fingers hesitated, tightening slightly¡ª Then she smiled softly to herself and picked up her spoon. Sedrick glanced away. The thought nagged at him. Should he ask about their pasts? His thumb tapped against his palm. But he shoved the thought back down. He didn''t want to talk about his past. Not now. Silence settled over the table. They ate. Sedrick fidgeted. His gaze drifted to anything but Laura. Laura finished and dabbed her face with a napkin. "So¡­ what exactly is this dungeon they mentioned?" As if rehearsed, The group shrugged in perfect unison. "Ahh¡­ I see," Laura laughed softly, an amused smile curling at her lips. "Ah, I see you''ve all become acquainted." A deep, creaking voice rolled over the group as Gnarros approached the table. Sedrick felt a chill crawl up his spine. "I hope you''re all prepared," the ancient being continued. "You''ll be leaving tonight." Beside him, Laura stiffened. Sedrick felt it instantly. A flicker of panic flashed across her face¡ª Brief. Gone in an instant. She caught his gaze. Smiled. Reassuring. Practiced. But he''d seen it. Something twisted inside him. A familiar weight. Rage. He shoved it down. Along with the rest of the things he couldn''t afford to deal with right now. Across the table, Jason smiled. Smooth. Controlled. A mask. Just like hers. "Good evening, Master Gnarros," Jason said easily. "We should all be ready to go." Gnarros grinned. His bark-like face creaked as it twisted into a smile. "Good..." A new mentor I watch the sparks swirl, waiting for my mana to drop lower. The sounds of battle stopped some time ago. I wasn''t sure if that was a good or bad thing yet. I stare at the screen, confused. "What?" Is it... trying to make small talk? I blink. I guess it was. I chuckle to myself as I feel a presence enter my Mana Sense¡ªa small, flickering flame. The same candle-sized mana signature as Vorondil. "How did I sense it this time? I thought I had to see mana to detect it." Oh. I guess that makes sense. Then, something changes. My whole body tenses as another source of mana flickers into my perception¡ªa raging inferno behind Vorondil. "What the hell is that?" I push myself to my feet and dart behind a nearby building, sweat already forming on my brow. The heat radiating from it is unbearable, even from this distance. That actually sounds¡­ helpful? Maybe Guidance is learning how to give actual advice. I force myself to focus on the two figures approaching. Vorondil looks the same as when he left, though his brow is furrowed in thought. Behind him lurks a massive, looming figure. Horns frame a monstrous head, burning embers where eyes should be¡ªor are those just its eyes? As it moves closer, the fog itself turns to steam, unable to cling to its pitch-black scales. It walks with heavy, deliberate steps, thick muscles rippling with each movement. A hand waves in front of my face. I jump back, startled, to find Vorondil standing right in front of me. Did I get so focused that I didn''t even notice him approach? I might¡¯ve just imagined it, but I swear I saw the hint of a smile on his face. "M¨¢r naly? cuil? sina. Elm? termaruvaly?. Man haryaly??" His voice shifts mid-sentence, the latter half turning into something that sounds more like a question. I glance at the screen before looking back at Vorondil. "He asked something, didn¡¯t he?" Vorondil watches me in silence, a slight furrow to his brows, as if confused by my hesitation. ¡­Cut that part out? How often does it do that? Before I can dwell on it, a deep, rumbling voice shakes the air. "Human..." I turn, wide-eyed, as the dragon leans down, its massive nostrils flaring as it sniffs the air heavily. Vorondil¡¯s hand immediately rests on his sword hilt. The dragon snorts and straightens to its full height, towering over us both. "N¨¢to quent? essenya terhante." Vorondil relaxes slightly, but his hand stays firmly on his blade. Then, the dragon leans forward again, lowering its head to my level. "What¡­ is your¡­ name?" Its voice is slow, deliberate¡ªas if struggling to remember the words. I open my mouth to respond, but it takes me a few tries to get the words out. "N-Narmo," I finally manage. The dragon hums, the deep vibration rolling through the air like distant thunder. Its ember-like eyes narrow slightly. "An elven name? Were you raised by them?" Its voice is careful, like it''s deliberately softening its tone. Despite the effort, the weight behind each word remains intimidating. But even in the short time it has spoken, I notice the dragon''s speech is already smoother, more fluid.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. I steady my nerves and shake my head. "No¡ªOr, well, I don''t think I was. I can''t remember anything before I woke up yesterday." I scratch the back of my head, feeling a little awkward under its intense gaze. Drazuul''s eyes flick to Vorondil for the briefest moment before nodding. "Well, it''s a pleasure¡ª" the word catches in his throat like something foul. He shudders slightly before forcing the sentence out. "¡ªto meet you. My name is Drazuul." He leans back, shifting his massive frame into a more comfortable position. "What level are you currently at?" I straighten slightly. "I''m only at level one, but most of my skills are almost at level ten!" I grin sheepishly. Drazuul scratches his chin, deep in thought. "We''ll have to remedy that..." Before I can ask what he means, he abruptly turns and strides into the fog. "I''ll be back. Don''t go too far." His voice is already fading as the mist swallows his towering form. The moment he''s out of sight, Vorondil visibly relaxes. I hadn''t realized how tense he was until now. He catches me watching him, then gives me a slight, almost imperceptible smile. Without another word, he turns and motions for me to follow. I hesitate for only a second before stepping forward. I was getting tired of sitting around, anyway. Vorondil leads me back to the building he had been in earlier. As I step inside, I watch him move with effortless familiarity, reaching for a jar from a shelf near the door. He hesitates for a fraction of a second before pulling down the only cup. He pours a liquid from the jar into the cup and hands it to me without a word. I peer into it¡ªwater. The moment I realize what it is, I down the entire thing in one gulp. I hadn¡¯t noticed how dry my throat was until now. The water tastes slightly dirty, metallic, but right now, it¡¯s the best thing I¡¯ve ever had. I move to return the cup, only to see Vorondil tipping the jar back, drinking straight from it. He takes the cup from me with one hand but doesn¡¯t stop drinking. I glance at the shelf, noting it¡¯s lined with more jars of various designs and sizes. Some look ancient, their surfaces worn and cracked. I scan the room again, wondering if I had missed anything earlier. In the corner, I notice something new¡ªa small anvil. Next to it, a table holds several clear bottles of oil and a pile of cloth. There¡¯s not much else in here. No bed. Just a single chair and the fireplace. Vorondil finally sets the jar back onto the shelf. Without a word, he turns to the table, drawing his sword with practiced ease. I shift my stance slightly to get a better view as he pours oil onto a rag and begins polishing the blade. A beep sounds, and my silver screen flickers into view. "What are you¡ª" A thunderous roar from outside cuts me off. "NARMO! COME OUT!" The voice shakes the walls. Drazuul. I glance at Vorondil. His expression remains unreadable, but there''s a moment of thoughtful silence. Then, finally, he gives me a slight nod. I stand and step outside, activating Mana Sense to help me navigate toward the massive, burning presence waiting for me in the fog. As I get closer, I notice several smaller flames flickering beneath the inferno. They¡¯re faint, fragile, barely clinging to existence¡ªthreatening to be snuffed out at any moment. Drazuul looms over them, a towering figure of muscle and menace. He stands before a pile of writhing creatures, some of them coated in saliva. They squirm weakly, limbs twitching as they desperately try to crawl away. I slow my pace. "What are those?" My confusion is plain in my voice. Drazuul grins, exposing his bloodstained fangs. "These?" He rumbles. "These are experience. They''ll help you increase your class level." I blink. "You mean... I have to kill them?" Drazuul nods. "Any way you''d like. But I''d recommend using a skill." His eyes narrow slightly, watching me closely. I hesitate. "It''ll take a few minutes. I''ll need to drain most of my mana first. If I use my skill at full power, it might kill me too." Drazuul¡¯s smirk fades slightly, his expression shifting to something almost unreadable. But after a moment, he nods and settles onto his haunches, a dozen or so feet away. "Some of them might die before you''re ready," he says, watching the creatures wriggle in the dirt. "And if any of them still have enough strength to fight back, I¡¯ll handle them." His tail flicks idly behind him. I nod and turn my focus back to the crawling figures. They''re sickly and deformed¡ªbut almost human. Almost. Their soulless black eyes stare blankly, their bloated skin peeling away in places. A mixture of curiosity and revulsion twists in my gut. A thought strikes me. I glance back at Drazuul. "What is this place?" Drazuul¡¯s tail slows. For the first time, he hesitates. "This place..." he begins slowly, as if tasting the words. "Is a place where the weak put the strong when they don''t know what else to do." He nods to himself, as if satisfied with his own answer. "But it can¡¯t hold us forever." His embers-for-eyes glow slightly brighter. "We grow stronger here. And eventually..." He bares his fangs in anticipation. "We return to Vealith." I absorb his words, but they only lead to more questions. How did I end up here? What even is Vealith? I open my mouth to ask¡ª Beep. A message flickers into view. A slow smile tugs at my lips. I step forward, positioning myself within range of the writhing creatures. Some of them have crawled further away than the others. But none of them will escape. I activate Mana Surge. A sharp pop echoes through the mist¡ªthen an explosion. The writhing creatures are torn apart, their bodies scattering into bloody mist and shredded limbs. Through the red haze, I see Drazuul¡¯s burning eyes flicker with excitement. His fanged maw spreads wide in a draconic grin. Beep. I stagger slightly, feeling the rush of experience flood through me. Level 4. Already? A deep rumbling laugh shakes the air. I turn just as Vorondil bursts from the fog, sword drawn, lips curled into a snarl. His sharp eyes dart around, scanning for danger¡ªuntil they land on the scattered creature remains. His features relax. With a smooth motion, he sheathes his blade. Meanwhile, Drazuul¡¯s laughter continues to build. His head tilts back, the sound deep and thunderous, like rolling flames consuming dry wood. After a few moments, he calms himself, shaking his head in amusement. "You humans are full of surprises." His massive frame shifts as he stands, stepping back into the swirling mist. "Be ready when I return," he calls over his shoulder. His burning eyes linger on me for a brief moment longer. "We¡¯ll get you to the second tier in no time." And then¡ªhe¡¯s gone. The first leap A sharp tap on my shoulder pulls me from my daze. Vorondil. The sheath of his blade nudges me again, a silent prompt to continue. I¡¯m panting, sweat dripping down my back, my robe clinging to me in places. Meanwhile, Vorondil doesn¡¯t have a single drop of sweat on him. I grit my teeth. With a burst of energy, I lunge forward, swinging my bone club in a wide arc at his head. He parries it effortlessly. The impact wrenches my weapon from my hands and, before I can recover, Vorondil shifts his weight¡ªusing my own momentum against me. I hit the ground hard, skidding onto my side. Fog swirls above me. I lie still, staring up at it, trying to catch my breath. A moment later, Vorondil reattaches his sheath to his hip and offers me a hand. I take it, grateful, as he pulls me back to my feet. Just then, Drazuul stomps out of the fog. His molten eyes sweep over me, then Vorondil. He lets out a chuffing breath, shaking his head. "I couldn¡¯t find any more in the immediate area." His gaze lingers on me. "And it looks like you¡¯re ready for a break." A deep, rumbling chuckle escapes his throat. "The blade of Vorondil is merciless, isn¡¯t it?" I manage a weak nod. Vorondil¡¯s eyes narrow slightly as he glances between us. He crosses his arms but remains silent. Beep. I stare at the silver screen. Too tired to be excited. Even though my bruises are fading and the ache in my muscles is already receding, there¡¯s a pulse in the back of my skull. A feeling of pressure, like my head is about to pop. Too full. Drazuul lets out a massive yawn, a wave of heat pushing back the fog for just a moment. "It¡¯s been a long time since I¡¯ve worked this hard," he rumbles. "We should all get some rest before we continue." He glances at Vorondil. "Or at least, the two of us should." Drazuul scoffs, smirking. "I don¡¯t think he gets tired." Vorondil¡¯s mouth twitches slightly, a flicker of annoyance crossing his otherwise impassive face. I don¡¯t think he likes it when we talk about him. I let out a soft chuckle¡ªbut the sound dies in my throat as he suddenly bends down, picks up my bone club, and turns to me. He holds it out, offering it back. I stare at it in horror. I shake my head vigorously, stepping back. His mouth cracks into a wide smile. And for the first time, I hear him laugh. It¡¯s melodic yet sinister, a sound that sends a shiver down my spine. But¡ªdespite its eerie tone¡ªthe look on his face is anything but malicious.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. A glint of genuine joy lights his green eyes. Drazuul flinches back at the sound. "That¡¯s... new," he mutters, shifting uncomfortably. Vorondil¡¯s smile vanishes instantly. His gaze snaps to Drazuul, and he sneers. I swallow thickly and tentatively take the bone from his outstretched hand. He raises a hand in a disarming gesture, as if to say relax. I do¡ªif only slightly. Then, without a word, he motions to the scattered piles of flesh. His teeth click audibly as he bites at an imaginary piece of meat. I freeze. "That¡¯s a great idea!" Drazuul rumbles, amused. "I was in the middle of a meal before this." His burning gaze sweeps over the carnage. "There should be enough here for all of us." A deep chuckle rumbles in his throat. My stomach growls loudly, rivaling Drazuul¡¯s voice. I hate to admit it, but¡ªafter everything¡ªI can already imagine the taste. The muddy, burnt texture. The raw, gamey flesh. I swallow hard. My mouth watering. Vorondil is already sorting through the remains, gathering the more intact cuts. I move toward the bodies, dragging a few toward him to help. He nods in approval and continues his methodical butchering. Drazuul, meanwhile, simply scoops an entire pile into his mouth, chewing twice before swallowing it whole. Bone and all. The sickening crunch reverberates through the air. He scoops another heap of flesh but pauses to inspect it carefully, picking out a piece before tossing it aside. The rest? It disappears down his throat seconds later. Vorondil finishes his selection and starts picking up a few choice pieces for himself. I do the same, grabbing a few relatively clean cuts before following him back toward his building. Vorondil sets the meat on the table and strides toward the fireplace. I place my haul alongside his before turning back to watch him work. A small fire already flickers in the hearth. He''s efficient. I shudder slightly, the memory of our training still fresh in my mind. Without missing a beat, Vorondil pulls out a set of skewers and walks back to the table. He pauses for a moment, then silently hands me a handful. I blink in surprise. I nod in thanks, a slight smile creeping onto my face. Without a word, he begins threading the meat onto the skewers. Each motion is precise, practiced¡ªeffortless. He spears four or five pieces at a time with ease. I try to mimic his movements but struggle to skewer even one piece without dropping the meat. I grimace but keep at it, determined not to fall too far behind. We work in silence for a few minutes. It¡¯s... pleasant. Once finished, Vorondil gathers the skewers and carries them to the fireplace. He places two directly above the fire and the rest on a higher rack. I assume those will cook slower. I exhale, finally relaxing, and take a seat by the door. The fire crackles softly, filling the room with the rich, smoky scent of roasting meat. A beep. The silver screen blinks into view. I lean my head back against the wall, exhaling through my nose. Might as well see how much stronger I¡¯ve become. CLASS: ERROR [14,896/18,005] TIER [1] LEVEL [8] AVAILABLE STAT POINTS [32] AVAILABLE ACTIVE SKILLS [1] MAX HP [40] MAX STAMINA [160] STAMINA REGENERATION [0.1] MAX MANA [2,400] MANA REGENERATION [4] STRENGTH [6]+ AGILITY [6]+ ENDURANCE [12]+ INTELLIGENCE [7]+ WILLPOWER [15]+ PERCEPTION [8]+ LUCK [1] ACTIVE SKILLS [2/10] TIER 1 MANA GEYSER [16/100] CAUSES A MAGICAL EXPLOSION USING PURE MANA. DAMAGE: 1 per MANA USED ¡Á SKILL LEVEL [16-38,400] RANGE: 1ft ¡Á SKILL LEVEL [7ft] COST: 100% CURRENT MANA MANA SENSE [13/100] ALLOWS THE USER TO SENSE ALL SOURCES OF MANA WITHIN RANGE. EFFECT: SENSE MANA UP TO 130FT [10¡ÁSKILL LEVEL] AWAY. COST: UP TO 13 [1¡Á10ft] MANA PER SECOND. PASSIVE SKILLS [2/10] TIER 1 MANA VAULT [6/100]: MULTIPLIES MAX MANA BY 1 ¡Á SKILL LEVEL. [400¡Á6] MANA CONVERSION [9/100] WHEN MANA POOL IS FULL COVERTS 9% MANA REGENERATION INTO HP. I smile widely as I look over my class menu. Available skills? I hesitate for a moment before tapping the screen. It shifts with a shimmer and a set of three skills appears before me. MANA BOLT FIRE A CONDENSED ORB OF MANA FROM THE PALM OF YOUR HAND. EFFECT: DEAL 7 DAMAGE [(5 ¡Á SKILL LEVEL)+(10% INT AND WIL)] RANGE: 20ft [20+2 PER LEVEL] COST: 50 MANA MANA SLASH EMPOWER YOUR WEAPON WITH MANA, SENDING A BLADE OF MANA FORWARD WHEN SWUNG. EFFECT: DEAL 10 DAMAGE [(8 ¡Á SKILL LEVEL)+(5% STR AND WIL)] RANGE: 10FT COST: 80 MANA MANA SPIKE FIRE A CONDENSED SPIKE OF MANA FROM THE PALM OF YOUR HAND, PEIRCING ENEMY ARMOR. EFFECT: DEAL 5 DAMAGE [(4¡ÁSKILL LEVEL)+(15% INT AND PER)] AND IGNORE 1% ARMOR (1 ¡Á SKILL LEVEL) RANGE: 10ft [10+1 PER LEVEL] COST: 120 MANA I read through each carefully, my grin widening with every word. They¡¯re all ranged attacks¡ªand more importantly, none of them will kill me when I use them. That alone is an improvement. I immediately rule out Mana Slash. My sparring match with Vorondil was proof enough that I¡¯m better off staying as far away from a blade as possible. I would¡¯ve died several times over. That leaves Mana Bolt and Mana Spike. I consider them. Mana Bolt has twice the range of Mana Spike. But Mana Spike can ignore armor¡­ completely at level 100. Long-term gain vs. immediate survival. And looking at the scaling, Mana Bolt benefits from Intelligence and Willpower, the two stats my system advised me to focus on. I exhale through my nose. Really, there¡¯s only one option. I tap Mana Bolt. The screen flickers before fading. I glance around, waiting for something to happen. Nothing. Then, a sharp twinge pinches the back of my mind. I flinch, but the sensation disappears just as quickly. I turn my focus to my stat points. Everything increased across the board while we were training. I allocate 12 points into Willpower and 20 into Intelligence. The screen vanishes, and a cooling sensation trickles down my spine¡ªlike a gentle waterfall inside my head. I close my eyes, relaxing into it. Then¡ª SPLASH. Ice-cold water pours over my head. I jerk upright, sputtering as my eyes snap open. Vorondil stands over me, jug in one hand, a skewer of meat in the other. A look of mild concern crosses his face. He tilts his head slightly, watching my reaction. I blink up at him, dripping. For a second, I think it¡¯s the system again. Then I realize. I wipe my face, pushing my drenched hair back, sending cold rivulets running down my back. Vorondil nods, satisfied, and hands me a skewer. I take it gratefully, giving him a sheepish grin. He leaves the water jug on the floor beside me and returns to his seat near the fire. I take a bite of the meat, chewing slowly. It¡¯s gamey¡ªbut delicious. The city of Limbo My eyes open slowly, the rotting wood of the ceiling coming into view. I stretch out, feeling the straw shift beneath me. Beep. I groan and roll over, trying to ignore the silver screen floating in my vision. I¡¯m not ready to be awake yet. The ache in my mind still lingers. "NARMO! COME OUT!" A thunderous roar shakes the walls around me. I grimace into my makeshift bedding. There¡¯s no helping it. With another groan, I drag myself to my feet, grab my bone club, and stumble out the door. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I spot Drazuul and Vorondil standing a few feet away from the building. I yawn, my voice still heavy with exhaustion. "More training already?" Drazuul shakes his massive head. "Not quite. We''ll be taking you to Limbo. Vorondil will be buying you some equipment." He nods ahead, already starting to walk. Vorondil waves for me to follow. I quickly fall in step behind them. "What''s Limbo?" I ask, matching their pace. Drazuul tilts his head slightly, peering at me over his massive shoulder. "Limbo is a city. It''s full of people stronger than you, so stay close to us." He tilts his head back and continues walking. "What type of weapon do you prefer?" I think for a moment before answering. "I think I¡¯d be better off using my skills." Drazuul stops mid-step. His head slowly turns back, his piercing gaze locking onto me. His voice is low, but firm. "No." He faces forward again, resuming his stride. "Your skills won¡¯t help you in every situation. You need to be able to defend yourself without relying on them." I nod silently, glancing at the bone club loosely tied to my hip. A deep crack runs down its length¡ªa reminder of my sparring sessions with Vorondil. I exhale through my nose. "I like clubs. I don¡¯t think I¡¯m skilled enough to use a blade." Drazuul grunts in acknowledgment. We walk in silence, the only sound being the soft thuds of Drazuul¡¯s massive steps and the occasional rustle of Vorondil¡¯s cloak. I activate Mana Sense. Might as well train the skill while we move. Occasionally, a distant howl cuts through the fog. Neither Vorondil nor Drazuul react. If they¡¯re not worried, then I shouldn¡¯t be either. It''s difficult to see past Drazuul¡¯s inferno, his mana like a raging bonfire consuming all light around it. But I can still sense the mana ahead of us. Thousands of tiny sparks float toward Drazuul''s inferno, but instead of being absorbed, they pass through him and begin to orbit around his form. They don¡¯t stay long before detaching, drifting toward me. I watch, fascinated. I must be absorbing them. Drazuul¡¯s mana is already full, so the excess flows to the next available source. And since I¡¯m constantly draining mana with my skill active¡­ I ponder the movement of mana for what feels like an hour or so before Drazuul suddenly stops. I grip my club, my body tensing instinctively. "What¡¯s wrong?" I ask in a hushed tone. Drazuul tilts his head back slightly, glancing at me with a toothy smirk. "Nothing. Calm down." He chuckles. "You¡¯ve got two of the strongest people in this realm guarding you. Try not to be so jumpy. People will assume you¡¯re weak."Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. He shakes his head, turning back toward the path ahead. "We¡¯re here." Drazuul¡¯s voice shifts slightly, adopting a more formal tone. "Stick close to us and don¡¯t bother anyone. I¡¯d rather not have to burn this city down." As he speaks, he lifts his head, his posture shifting into something more dignified. The fog parts slightly, and for the first time¡ªI see Limbo. To my surprise, the fog doesn¡¯t reach inside the city. With Mana Sense active, I can barely make out a thin layer of something pushing against the fog, forming an invisible barrier. Sparks of mana drift toward it, flickering against the surface before fading away. Vorondil taps my shoulder, motioning toward Drazuul, who¡¯s steadily pulling ahead. I nod and pick up my pace, following them toward the city. Floating lanterns drift lazily through the streets, casting a ghostly glow. The buildings¡ªwhile better than the ruins we¡¯d been staying in¡ªare still mostly in shambles. Cracked stone walls. Caved-in rooftops. The whole city feels abandoned. As I track one of the lanterns with my eyes, something else catches my attention. A massive chain, thicker than any tree I¡¯ve ever seen, stretches far into the sky. Its top vanishes into the fog, obscured by the swirling mist above. "What¡¯s that?" I ask, pointing toward the chain. Drazuul tilts his head back, following my gaze. His eyes narrow. "That leads to the gate back to Vealith." His tone is almost dismissive¡ªbut then he adds: "It¡¯s guarded by the Gatekeeper, so don¡¯t even think about climbing it." He pauses. "At least¡­ not yet." I nod slowly, filing that information away for later. If that¡¯s the way out, I¡¯ll need to be strong enough to reach the top. We continue moving through the city, passing abandoned buildings, the faint echoes of our footsteps filling the empty streets. After a few minutes, my Mana Sense pings something. I tense instinctively. Roughly a dozen flames flicker in my vision¡ªeach one different in size. None are as massive as Drazuul¡¯s inferno, but they¡¯re still sizable. Strong. Dangerous. As we round a corner, I¡¯m met with a strange sight. Several makeshift wooden stalls line the street, their displays crude but functional. The goods range from armor of various shapes and sizes to strange, pulsating fruit that seems to breathe. I take a few eager steps forward, curiosity getting the best of me¡ª Until a firm grip catches my shoulder. I turn to see Vorondil, his expression unreadable as he nods toward Drazuul. The dragon is already settling onto his haunches, his tail curling lazily behind him. "Wait with me, Narmo." Drazuul grumbles. "Vorondil will handle the shopping." I nod, trying to hide my disappointment. Drazuul huffs, noticing my reaction. "Wipe that look off your face." His molten eyes flicker. "If you keep growing like you did yesterday, you¡¯ll be far stronger than any of these peasants soon. But for now, it¡¯s best you don¡¯t draw unnecessary attention." His tail sways idly as he speaks, his tone matter-of-fact. I nod. That makes sense. If these people are even half as strong as Vorondil or Drazuul, I¡¯d be crushed like an insect. I turn my gaze back to the market, searching for Vorondil¡ª But he¡¯s already gone. I blink. How the hell did he disappear so fast? I scan the street again, but there¡¯s no sign of him. I activate Mana Sense. Immediately, his familiar, flickering flame appears inside one of the larger buildings. Compared to the other sources of mana in the city, his looks so small. It¡¯s almost unnatural¡ªhow could someone so deadly give off such a weak presence? I turn to ask Drazuul about it¡ª Only to stop myself when I see his eyes are closed. Better not to bother him. "Speak, human." His deep, rumbling voice cuts through the air. I flinch slightly, surprised. His eyes are still closed. "How did you know I was going to say something?" I ask, baffled. Drazuul tilts his head slightly, then opens one eye. "I didn¡¯t." He exhales slowly, his tail thudding lightly against the ground. "The silence is boring." His lips curl slightly, his molten gaze narrowing. "I was gonna ask why Vorondil¡ª" I barely start my sentence before Drazuul cuts me off. "Stop. If you have a question about him, ask him yourself." A huff follows his words, a burst of hot steam shooting from his nostrils. I shut my mouth quickly, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. Drazuul taps his massive claw against the cobblestone, impatient. I try to think of something else¡ª**anything else¡ª**to talk about. I scratch the back of my neck, and a thought occurs to me. "What does Luck do?" Drazuul blinks. His molten eyes fix on me, his tail giving a slight twitch. "I''m not entirely sure..." He pauses, tilting his head slightly, as if trying to remember something long forgotten. "But I¡¯ve heard it can give you access to better skills." His gaze sharpens as he looks back down at me. "That said, I can¡¯t say for sure, so don¡¯t go spending all your points in Luck." I nod, filing the information away for later. Using Mana Sense, I see that Vorondil has moved again, now inside another building. Another thought drifts into my mind. "So what are dragons?" I turn back to Drazuul, genuinely curious. For a moment, he just stares at me. Then, without warning¡ª He bursts into laughter. His thunderous laugh shakes the street, his massive body leaning back as his forelegs lift off the ground. His tail slaps against the cobblestone, and he brings a massive claw to his chest, forcing himself to calm down. When he finally manages to stop, he grins down at me, his fangs gleaming. "We are the mightiest of all creatures!" He bellows it dramatically, his tone dripping with sarcasm. I can¡¯t help but smile at his antics. I turn back toward the market, still grinning¡ª Only to jump back in shock. Vorondil stands mere feet away. His expression blank, yet his eyebrows furrow slightly. He¡¯s not looking at me. His eyes are locked onto Drazuul. Vorondil exhales softly, almost inaudibly. Then, without a word, he turns to me. His lips twitch upward¡ªjust barely¡ªbefore he sets a small wooden box on the ground. He gestures to the box before silently stepping past me toward Drazuul. As the two begin speaking in Vorondil¡¯s language, I tune them out and kneel down to inspect the box. It¡¯s roughly crafted, built from scraps of wood nailed together. The handle of a weapon sticks out from inside. I grip the handle and pull it free. A metal mace. It¡¯s heavier than the bone club I had been using¡ªmuch heavier. But it feels right. I give it a test swing, feeling the solid weight in my hands. A slow smile spreads across my face. Digging deeper into the box, I find something wrapped in thick cloth. I pull it free and unravel it carefully. At first, I think it''s just a bundle of fabric, but as the cloth unfolds, I realize¡ª It¡¯s a cloak. Beneath the fabric, nestled within the folds, lies a thick book. I pick it up and examine the cover. The letters flicker, shifting between unfamiliar symbols before settling into clear words. "A Beginner¡¯s Guide to Crushing Your Enemies." I blink in confusion. Did the words just¡­ change? Beep. I nod, resisting the urge to respond out loud. I don¡¯t want them to think I¡¯m crazy for talking to myself. At the very bottom of the box, I spot a set of chainmail. I pick it up briefly, feeling its weight and durability, then carefully place everything else back into the box. Standing, I glance toward Vorondil and Drazuul. They¡¯re still talking, their voices low and serious. Without hesitation, I stride up to Vorondil. He stops mid-sentence, his expression shifting to mild concern. Before he can react¡ª I wrap my arms around him and squeeze tightly. Drazuul erupts into thunderous laughter, his deep voice shaking the air. "¨¢va cen? ni tanen. Naly? car? sina!" I don¡¯t understand what he said, but his amusement is unmistakable. Vorondil stiffens slightly in my grasp. For a brief moment, he doesn¡¯t react. Then, hesitantly, he pats my shoulder¡ªonce. When I pull away, he avoids eye contact, his face turned slightly away. A slight redness dusts his cheeks. I take a step back and bow deeply. "Thank you both. I¡¯d probably be dead by now if it weren¡¯t for you two." Drazuul snorts, shaking his head. "Nonsense! You¡¯d be fine." A slow, toothy grin spreads across his face. "¡­Probably." He glances at Vorondil before shaking his head. "We should get back to training. We¡¯ve still got a long way to go." As we leave, I steal one last glance at the marketplace. So many stalls. So many strange items. What other secrets does this world hold? The last light pt.1 A very long time ago, in a kingdom that no longer exists¡­ Vorondil stood with arms crossed, watching as two younger knights sparred in the courtyard. Disgraceful. His green eyes narrowed in disappointment. These amateurs were bringing shame upon the Order of Thorns. To any commoner, their swordplay would have seemed masterful. But in the few seconds since the match had begun, Vorondil had already spotted dozens of mistakes. His lip curled into a sneer. "This is all the progress you''ve made?" He turned sharply on his heel, his long cloak billowing behind him. "Don''t waste my time with this nonsense again." His words carried absolute finality. The two men lowered their swords, their faces tight with frustration, but neither dared to protest as they watched him walk away. Vorondil left the training grounds behind, striding through the streets of his homeland. The great trees of the elven kingdom stretched high above, their golden leaves filtering soft rays of sunlight onto the cobblestone paths. Songbirds flitted through the branches, their melodies filling the air with a peaceful hum. He scoffed. A minstrel strummed his lute in the town square, struggling through a tune he had no doubt spent weeks perfecting¡ªall for a girl who barely noticed his existence. What a waste of time. As Vorondil passed, the minstrel faltered, his fingers slipping on the strings. "Isn¡¯t that¡­" The words faded behind him as his stride quickened. He had no time for distractions. The towering silhouette of the royal palace loomed ahead. The castle guards spotted him immediately, snapping into rigid salutes. He didn¡¯t even glance at them as he passed. The moment he disappeared from sight, they exhaled in relief, shoulders sagging. Inside, the castle halls stretched in intricate elegance¡ªwalls lined with breathtaking murals of history and legend, painstakingly painted over centuries. Vorondil had never spared them a second glance. And he never would. He moved with an intensity few could match. Servants scattered at the sound of his boots against the marble floor, vanishing behind doors or pressing themselves into the shadows to escape his gaze.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. He was heading for one place. And no one¡ªnot a single soul¡ªwould dare to stand in his way. He stopped before a grand door, its surface adorned with intricate carvings of twisting vines and celestial symbols. For the first time since entering the castle, he hesitated. Straightening his clothes and smoothing his hair, he inhaled slowly, steadying himself. Then, with a measured hand, he rapped softly against the wood. A brief silence followed before a voice¡ªsoft, musical, and undeniably familiar¡ªcalled out. ¡°Come in.¡± He opened the door and stepped inside, carefully schooling his expression into one of neutrality. The princess sat before a grand mirror, her silver hair cascading over her shoulders as a handmaiden brushed through its silken strands. The floral scent of her favorite oils filled the air¡ªdelicate yet overwhelming. Vorondil inhaled deeply, allowing the fragrance to flood his senses. He did not react. Instead, he took his position near the door, standing at quiet attention. "That didn''t take long at all," the princess mused, a teasing lilt in her voice. "I don¡¯t know why you put up such a fuss." A soft giggle escapes her lips. She glanced at him through the mirror, her silver eyes locking onto his. His muscles tensed before he could stop himself. Noticing, she turned, pouting slightly. "Oh, did it not go well? You look frustrated. I¡¯m sorry for laughing at you." She bit at her thumbnail, scanning his face as though searching for an answer he refused to give. Vorondil quickly shook his head, forcing the ghost of a smile onto his lips. "Do not apologize, Princess. I am your loyal servant." He bowed, his movements crisp and precise, his voice unwavering. When he straightened, he saw it. Concern¡ªgenuine concern¡ªetched across her delicate features. His heart lurched in his chest, but he refused to let it show. Instead, he chuckled lightly. "I assure you, Princess, everything went as expected." It wasn¡¯t a lie. Her silver eyes lingered on his, and for a moment, he felt his heartbeat hammer against his ribs. Then she smiled¡ªsoft and knowing. Turning back to the mirror, she broke the moment, and he exhaled slowly, regaining his composure. "Come here, please." She didn¡¯t command it. She asked. His feet moved before he even registered her words. He came to stand beside her, unable to ignore the warmth of her presence. "How can I be of service, Princess?" he asked, leaning in slightly. She lifted two delicate hairpins into the light. "Which of these looks prettiest?" One was a cluster of small golden flowers, delicate and regal. The other¡ªa single vibrant purple bloom. She alternated them against her hair, switching between the two with a look of intense concentration. Vorondil found himself staring. Her brows furrowed slightly as she weighed the decision, her lips pursing in thought. It was such a simple thing, yet she treated it with the utmost seriousness. His mind blanked. "What do you think?" She turned to him, pouting slightly. Panic. Without thinking, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "The purple one." His tone came out sharper than he intended, and he cursed himself inwardly. Fool. But she only beamed up at him. For a moment, he forgot everything. "That''s the one I was thinking too!" Her voice was bright, triumphant. Behind her, the handmaiden smiled in quiet amusement, nodding in agreement. "It''s almost time." She sighed, her voice carrying a softness that made his chest tighten. With reluctant grace, she stood. "Wait here¡ªyou absolutely have to see the dress Lorain picked." She reached out, taking the handmaid¡¯s hand with effortless familiarity before leading her into the other room to change. As the door clicked shut, Vorondil exhaled. His gaze drifted to the mirror. A smile rested on his face¡ªan unfamiliar sight. He studied it for a moment longer before forcing himself to turn away. ---- Many years later. The cloth dragged over his blade, slow and methodical. Vorondil wiped at the stains¡ªstains that weren¡¯t there. He knew it was pristine. A flawless edge, crafted from the finest elven steel. Yet no matter how many times he cleaned it¡­ the stains never faded. His fingers tensed around the hilt. A flicker of movement caught his attention in the dim light. His eyes shifted¡ªcold, hollow. And then they softened. Narmo sat near the door, his silver eyes shining with quiet joy as he pored over the book. The same book that had cost Vorondil more favors than he could count. The boy¡¯s expression was untouched by the weight of this world. Vorondil¡¯s chest ached. Yet still¡­ he smiled. Legendary dragon pt.1 Drazuul watched in silence as Narmo practiced basic combat stances under Vorondil¡¯s watchful eye. The elf moved with patient precision, adjusting the boy¡¯s stance with the ease of a master. Narmo couldn''t have found a better teacher if he''d tried. Vorondil¡¯s swordsmanship surpassed anything Drazuul had ever seen. Almost anything. A phantom ache pulsed through Drazuul¡¯s chest. The scar itched¡ªa cruel reminder. Because there had been one swordsman. One whose skill stood leagues beyond even Vorondil¡¯s. Drazuul¡¯s muscles tensed. He tried to force the memory back into the abyss where it belonged, but memories had teeth, and this one refused to be buried. It slithered into his mind like smoke, choking out the present. And suddenly, he was there again. ---- Many years ago¡­ The sky trembled beneath the beating of Drazuul¡¯s wings. Clouds parted, fleeing from his presence, revealing his monstrous silhouette against the heavens. A thunderous roar tore through the battlefield as a stream of fire¡ª**pure, unrelenting¡ª**erupted from his maw. The world below burned. Dozens fell, their screams silenced before they could even reach the air. A wizard, bold or foolish, raised his staff. The sky split open, and a bolt of lightning crashed down upon Drazuul¡¯s back, peeling away blackened scales in an agonizing explosion of heat and pain. Drazuul snarled, fangs bared. He would remember that one. His slitted eyes locked onto the offending mage. He tucked his wings and dove. The wind screamed past his ears as he plummeted like a meteor, the battlefield rushing up to meet him. And then¡ª Impact. The earth shattered. A crater yawned open where the mage had stood. Nothing remained but the crushed remnants of his body beneath Drazuul¡¯s talons. He reared back onto his hind legs, flames licking at his maw as he roared over the chaos, a challenge to any who dared meet him in battle. A battle cry met his challenge. Drazuul turned, spotting a towering man barreling toward him, a massive battleaxe raised high. The warrior never got the chance to swing. Drazuul¡¯s tail slammed down like a battering ram, crushing him into the dirt as effortlessly as the mage before him. A sudden flash of light ignited at his flank. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Instinct roared a warning. He leapt back just as a blade of pure radiance sliced through the earth, carving a deep trench where he had just stood. Drazuul¡¯s lips curled into a snarl. Where? Without waiting to see his attacker, he turned his head and unleashed a torrent of fire¡ªa scorching cone of destruction aimed toward where the light had struck from. But then¡ª A shield of light erupted before him. The flames rebounded, searing back toward his own face. With a furious growl, he snapped his jaws shut and reared back, momentarily blinded. His vision burned white-hot, but his rage burned hotter. He roared and lunged. He expected to crash through the barrier, to obliterate whoever dared stand against him. But¡ª His momentum stopped. The shield held. Drazuul staggered back, claws scraping against the earth as a deep growl rumbled in his throat. And then he saw him. A man, clad head to toe in shining plate armor, charged forward¡ªunyielding, relentless. Arrows rained down around him. He didn¡¯t slow. Every bolt aimed at him was sliced from the air with precise, effortless swings. His gaze never wavered. His sword never faltered. And for the first time in centuries¡ª Drazuul felt something cold slither into his gut. A hint of unease. The barrier flickered and vanished as the warrior surged forward. Drazuul reacted instantly. His tail cracked through the air, a whip of pure force aimed to pulverize the man where he stood. But¡ª The warrior leapt over it. Not just jumped¡ªsoared. He twisted midair, landing light on his feet, never breaking stride. Drazuul snarled. No hesitation. No fear. Unacceptable. His massive talons slammed down, the sheer weight enough to shake the battlefield. A direct hit. The earth shuddered, dust and debris exploding outward. But there was no scream. Drazuul snapped his gaze down¡ª Empty ground. The warrior had already moved. Before Drazuul could react, a searing pain erupted in his forepaw. A sword of pure radiance had pierced through his scales, nailing his massive limb to the earth. Drazuul roared, fury igniting his veins. With one powerful swipe, he lashed out with his free claw, striking the warrior square in the head. A direct hit. But something was wrong. Instead of crushing his skull, it felt like hitting solid stone. Yet¡ª The warrior¡¯s helmet flew off. For the first time, Drazuul saw his face. And for the first time, Drazuul felt true dread. Burning silver eyes locked onto his, brimming with fury¡ªand judgment. Instinct screamed. Drazuul wrenched his paw free in a spray of molten blood and took flight. His wings beat hard, lifting him into the air as he unleashed another inferno. Yet again¡ª A shield of light materialized. The flames were swallowed whole. Higher. I need to go higher. Drazuul surged upward¡ª ¡ªand crashed into something. An invisible wall. No, not invisible¡ªanother barrier. A cage. His heart slammed against his ribs as he snapped his head down¡ª Too late. The warrior was already upon him. He leapt skyward, stepping on platforms of light, rising with terrifying speed. And then¡ª The sword plunged into Drazuul¡¯s chest. Straight through. To the hilt. A cold scrape against his beating heart. His wings failed him. The world spun as gravity seized him. Drazuul plummeted. The warrior landed heavily on Drazuuls chest, gripping his blade. With one brutal twist, he ripped the sword free. Blood poured from the wound, sizzling against the scorched battlefield. And the warrior¡­ never looked back. Without sparing Drazuul another glance, he turned and vanished into the chaos. Drazuul lay still. His blood pooled beneath him, warm, wet, final. Or so he thought. The world twisted, shifting between then and now. The battlefield flickered, time slipping through his claws. The sun leapt across the sky in erratic jumps. Drazuul drifted in and out of consciousness. When he finally awoke, the world was silent. The battlefield lay still around him. The scent of blood and scorched earth hung thick in the air. Then¡ªa voice. Soft. Hesitant. Real. He snapped out of his ruminations. "Are you okay?" Drazuul barely had time to process the words before a hand pressed against his foreleg. A sharp hiss. Flesh searing. The boy jerked back, his breath hitching as he instinctively clutched his burned palm beneath his other arm. Drazuul¡¯s golden eyes flickered downward. Narmo. His silver eyes didn¡¯t waver. Pain twisted his expression, but concern outweighed it. A fool. A reckless, oblivious fool. Drazuul threw his head back¡ª and laughed. A deep, thunderous rumble, shaking the very stones beneath them. The memory. The pain. The ghosts of the past¡ª All washed away in the absurdity of the moment. Heros of Sylvaris pt.3 Present day, in the kingdom of Sylvaris. Jamie sat in the carriage, carefully reading a newly printed book. Its crisp pages were still stiff, and he took great care not to wrinkle them. The words jumped as the carriage hit a bump, and he lost his place. Annoyed, he quickly found it again¡ª only to lose it a second time when someone spoke. "Is that one of the magic books you were talking about?" Jason leaned in slightly, peering at the pages over Jamie¡¯s shoulder. Jamie shook his head. "No, this is a history book on Sylvaris. They haven¡¯t given us much information since we got here, so I thought I¡¯d take the initiative." He pointed to a few words at the beginning of the page. "It says here that Sylvaris rose quickly to replace Celetharion. Apparently, Sylvaris is only a few hundred years old." Jason narrowed his eyes, leaning closer to get a better look. Jamie flipped a few pages back, quickly finding what he was searching for. He tapped the section with his finger. "And it says here that summoned heroes are one of Sylvaris¡¯ main exports. According to the book, Sylvaris can summon heroes three times as fast as any other kingdom." His grin widened. "Do you know what this means?" Jason¡¯s expression darkened slightly. "It means we¡¯ll be sold to the highest bidder." Jamie pulled back, his grin slipping. "I was gonna say there''s more humans out there." He let out an awkward chuckle, his gaze shifting toward the others in the carriage. Alex snored softly, arms wrapped protectively around his axe. Sedrick stared out the window, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, as if entranced by the passing scenery. Across from him, Laura watched him with an amused smile, her hands folded neatly in her lap. "Yeah, I guess you''re right," Jason said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Does it mention anything else about other kingdoms? Or do you have any more books?" Jamie relaxed slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing. "This book only covers the history of Sylvaris," he admitted. "But I did pick up another one that should explain how the system works. If you want, you can borrow it. I haven¡¯t had a chance to read it yet." He reached toward his bag, but Jason held up a hand to stop him. "Keep it. I''m not much of a reader." Jason flashed his usual disarming smile. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Jamie nodded and returned the smile before closing his book. He had only learned one spell so far, but he¡¯d been studying it diligently. He wanted to check if his proficiency had increased. CLASS: MAGIC INITIATE TIER [1] LEVEL [1] MAX HP [15] MAX STAMINA [5] STAMINA REGENERATION [0.01] MAX MANA [80] MANA REGENERATION [0.5] STRENGTH [3] AGILITY [4] ENDURANCE [3] INTELLIGENCE [9] WILLPOWER [8] PERCEPTION [5] LUCK [2] ACTIVE SKILLS [1/5] TIER 1 GRIMOIRE [3/100] STUDY DELIGENTLY TO GAIN ACCESS TO SPELLS. EFFECT: CAST SPELL WITH 5.1 PROFICIENCY. [30% OF INT AND WIL. 10% ¡Á SKILL LEVEL.] LEARNED SPELLS: [1/9] ICE SPIKE: DAMAGE, 2.5 [50% PRO] COST 5 MANA PASSIVE SKILLS [1/5] STUDIOUS [2/100] INCREASE READING SPEED BY 4%. BLESSING [1] BLESSING OF THE CROW: ALLOWS YOU TO SPEAK AND UNDERSTAND ANY LANGUAGE YOU''VE HEARD. Jamie exhaled softly and smiled. His Intelligence had increased by one, and both of his skills had leveled up. Excitement bubbled inside him¡ªhe couldn¡¯t wait to read through the other spells in the book he¡¯d bought. But a new curiosity nagged at him: How did the system really work? Was there a max level? Could he gain more blessings? How powerful could he become? The carriage slowed slightly before coming to a complete stop. "I think we''re finally here!" Sedrick said as he got to his feet, fumbling to open the door. "Huh? We''re what?" Alex mumbled groggily, stretching his arms. "I think we''ve made it to the dungeon, sweetie," Laura responded with a soft chuckle before following Sedrick out. Alex¡¯s eyes lit up, and he immediately grabbed his axe. "Finally! Let''s go, Jaim!" Before Jamie could even react, Alex had already hopped out of the carriage. Jason chuckled, watching them. "After you." He motioned toward the door. Jamie smiled back and nodded, stepping out into the open. The clearing stretched around them, framed by towering, oversized mushrooms with faintly glowing caps. But Jamie¡¯s eyes were drawn to the entrance ahead¡ªa set of ancient stone doors leading underground. He joined the others near the entrance, taking in the sight. "So this is the dungeon?" Before he could say more, Alex leaned in close, pretending to whisper something¡ªthen stuck a wet finger straight into Jamie¡¯s ear. Jamie jerked back, horrified. "Ugh! Gross! Why would you do that?!" Alex doubled over in laughter. "Because it¡¯s funny." Sedrick frowned at the two, crossing his arms. "Stop messing around." His voice was firm, serious. "This place could be dangerous. We all need to focus." Alex¡¯s grin faltered, and he kicked at the dirt. "Sorry... I was just messing around." Sedrick¡¯s features softened slightly. He had to remind himself¡ªthey were still basically kids. "It¡¯s okay," he said with a sigh. "I just don¡¯t want either of you getting hurt." His gaze drifted back toward the carriage, where Jason stood speaking with two of the Sylvarians. A thoughtful expression settled on Jason¡¯s face as he listened to them. "I''ll be able to heal anyone if something happens," Laura said quietly. Concern shadowed her face. "It shouldn¡¯t be too bad, right?" Sedrick shook his head. "They wouldn¡¯t throw us to the wolves like that... Or at least, I hope they wouldn¡¯t." He flashed a crooked smile, trying to reassure her. Laura relaxed slightly, though worry still lingered in her eyes. Jamie punched Alex lightly on the arm when Sedrick wasn¡¯t looking. Alex grinned despite himself, giving Jamie a small nod in return. Jason and the others approached the group, his expression twisted into a grimace. "I hope none of you are afraid of spiders." Both Alex and Laura visibly paled. Jason gave them a moment to process before continuing. "We''ll be clearing this place over the next week or two. It should give us a lot of experience, and there''s supposedly a decent amount of treasure in there." His eyes scanned their expressions, gauging their reactions. "If we run out of supplies, someone will deliver more," he reassured them. "And after this, we¡¯ll get scouted by other kingdoms. If we play our cards right, we should be able to stick together." A small smile crossed his lips, but Jamie and Alex exchanged a worried glance. "What if we do get separated?" Alex asked hesitantly. Jason raised a calming hand. "We get to choose whether or not to take the other kingdoms up on their offers, so we shouldn¡¯t have to worry about that." The group visibly relaxed at his words. Sedrick cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders before turning toward the dungeon doors. "Is everyone ready? I''m excited to see what the big deal is." A grin stretched across his face as he stepped forward. The others hesitantly followed behind him. Quest complete Over the past few days, I¡¯ve settled into a routine. Sparring with Vorondil in the mornings, then killing the creatures Drazuul drags back for me. We¡¯ve returned to Limbo twice to sell off the excess creature meat. Each time, I wait outside with Drazuul while Vorondil handles the business. The dragon has shared a few battle stories in that time. As he tells it, he was once a force of absolute terror on the battlefield. But Vorondil? I haven¡¯t learned much about him yet. He¡¯s kind, reserved. It would be nice to actually speak with him¡ªto understand him. I wonder if there¡¯s a way to learn his language. Beep. A wide grin spreads across my face. I¡¯ve grown to like the sparring sessions, and I think Vorondil enjoys them too. He smiles the most when he¡¯s showing me new stances and maneuvers. I pull up the silver screen to check my quest progress. GROW YOUR STRENGTH: OBJECTIVES: INCREASE ALL SKILLS TO LEVEL 10 [5/6] REACH LEVEL 10 [1/1] REWARDS: BLESSING Just one skill away. I can barely contain my excitement¡ªI need to know what this blessing is. And as a bonus, I¡¯ve been holding back on claiming the passive skill I unlocked at Level 10. Every time I unlocked a new skill, the quest requirements increased, so I didn¡¯t want to make it take even longer. I flick my hand, pulling up my class menu. CLASS: ERROR [49,095/79,401] TIER [1] LEVEL [10] AVAILABLE STAT POINTS [0] AVAILABLE ACTIVE SKILLS [0] AVAILABLE PASSIVE SKILLS [1] MAX HP [50] MAX STAMINA [200] STAMINA REGENERATION [0.1] MAX MANA [6,000] MANA REGENERATION [5] STRENGTH [10] AGILITY [9] ENDURANCE [23] INTELLIGENCE [36] WILLPOWER [35] PERCEPTION [12] LUCK [1] ACTIVE SKILLS [3/10] TIER 1 MANA GEYSER [23/100] CAUSES A MAGICAL EXPLOSION USING PURE MANA. DAMAGE: 1 per MANA USED ¡Á SKILL LEVEL [23-138,000] RANGE: 1ft ¡Á SKILL LEVEL [23ft] COST: 100% CURRENT MANA MANA BOLT [10/100] FIRE A CONDENSED ORB OF MANA FROM THE PALM OF YOUR HAND. EFFECT: DEAL 64 DAMAGE [(5 ¡Á SKILL LEVEL)+(20% INT AND WIL)] RANGE: 40ft [20+2 PER LEVEL] COST: 50 MANA MANA SENSE [24/100] ALLOWS THE USER TO SENSE ALL SOURCES OF MANA WITHIN RANGE. EFFECT: SENSE MANA UP TO 240FT [10¡ÁSKILL LEVEL] AWAY. COST: UP TO 24 [1¡Á10ft] MANA PER SECOND. PASSIVE SKILLS [2/10] TIER 1 MANA VAULT [12/100]: MULTIPLIES MAX MANA BY 1 ¡Á SKILL LEVEL. [500¡Á12] MANA CONVERSION [17/100] WHEN MANA POOL IS FULL COVERTS 17% MANA REGENERATION INTO HP. GENERAL SKILLS [1] TIER 1 MACE PROFICIENCY [9/100] GAIN BONUS DAMAGE WHEN YOU ATTACK WITH A MACE. [45%] AMBIENT MANA GUIDES YOUR MOVEMENTS WHEN USING A MACE. [9% EFFICIENCY] My stats have increased significantly, even though I¡¯ve only put eight more points into Intelligence and Willpower. And my skills? They¡¯re finally getting strong¡ªreally strong. I can¡¯t even begin to imagine what would happen if I activated Mana Surge at full power. ¡­No, actually, I can. An image of a smoking crater flashes through my mind. I chuckle to myself. Sweeping myself to my feet, I dust the straw off my cloak. It¡¯s a deep black fabric, patched in places with red squares, stitched with care but little precision. I pull on my chain shirt and lace up my new leather boots. Time to train. I leave my crumbling house and make my way to Vorondil¡¯s. Normally, Drazuul would be lounging somewhere in the clearing between our buildings, but I don¡¯t see him. Must already be out hunting. I knock lightly against the empty doorframe before stepping inside. Vorondil sits in his worn chair, carefully carving something into a small piece of wood. The moment he notices me, he turns and nods. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Without a word, he sets the carving face down, stands, and fastens his sword to his hip. As he steps past me, he pats my shoulder lightly. A silent acknowledgment. I follow him outside into the clearing and draw my mace. Vorondil keeps walking. He doesn¡¯t turn. He simply draws his sword. He¡¯s giving me the first strike. I shift my stance carefully, aligning my footwork with what he¡¯s taught me. Every step, measured. Every movement, deliberate. His hair floats in the still air. For a moment, I wonder why it does that. Then I push the thought aside. I need to focus. I only get one free strike. I hesitate for just a moment¡ªthen lunge. My mace swings wide toward his side. Vorondil takes a single step forward. Just one. My strike whiffs through the empty air. Before I can react, his sword flashes upward¡ª A sharp slice across my bicep. Pain flashes through my arm. My hand loosens instinctively, and I nearly drop my weapon. No. I force my grip to tighten and wrench my mace¡¯s momentum into another strike. Fast. Wild. Desperate. Vorondil drifts past it effortlessly. A flicker of steel¡ªhis blade taps my shoulder. Not deep, but sharp enough that I feel the wound open beneath my chain mail. I grimace. I swing again¡ª And his boot slams into my chest. The air rushes from my lungs. My mace flies wide. I stumble back. But Vorondil doesn¡¯t let me recover. His blade carves across my leg, arm, and side in a seamless combo. I jump back, panting. He doesn¡¯t follow. Just stands, sword in hand, watching. I tighten my stance. I can already feel my wounds closing. Since I haven¡¯t used mana, my Mana Conversion is already kicking in. The cuts sting, but the pain is fading. I lower my mace, feinting. Vorondil moves. The moment he lashes out, I jerk my wrist up. Steel clashes. My mace meets his sword, and for the first time¡ªhe doesn¡¯t dodge. The impact rings through the air. I grin. Then¡ª He¡¯s already past me. I don¡¯t even see him move. A sharp kick to my knee¡ª I drop. My leg folds beneath me, the ground slamming up into my side. I reach for my mace¡ª A blade presses against my neck. Silence. Then, soft laughter. Vorondil¡¯s. I laugh as well, breathless, as Vorondil reaches out a hand. I take it. He pulls me to my feet with ease. His smile is warm, and joy flickers in his emerald eyes. For a moment, I forget my aching limbs. Then¡ªheavy footsteps shake the ground. We turn. Drazuul emerges from the fog, his massive jaws clenched around a writhing creature. It¡¯s bigger than anything he¡¯s brought before. Vorondil tenses, a hand drifting to his sword. Drazuul shakes his head violently, sending blood spraying across the dirt. Then, he drops the beast. "I pulled this one from the dungeon," he rumbles, his chest swelling with pride. "It should push you much higher." --- The creature stirs. It struggles upright on six legs, its movements sluggish but deliberate. Its front four legs frame a broad, low-set torso, covered in smooth chitinous armor. Deep gashes mar its body. Blood seeps steadily from ragged holes. It limps away from Drazuul, sweeping its faceless head from side to side. I can¡¯t tell if it sees me. Then¡ª It locks onto me. And lowers its stance. I grip my mace tightly. --- "It would be best to keep your distance," Drazuul says, almost bored. "One hit from the hound would probably kill you." I nod stiffly, not taking my eyes off the beast. It growls, a low, wet sound. The plates on its face shift. Teeth. Far too many sharp, serrated teeth. And then¡ª A blur of motion. A barbed tongue lashes out faster than I can react¡ªslashing across my leg. Pain flares. The tongue coils around my calf and yanks me forward. I stumble. My arms move on instinct. I swing my mace downward. It bounces off uselessly. Damn it. I change tactics. Mana floods my hands. I fire a Mana Bolt straight at its head. The blast cracks against its armor, and the tongue recoils. I gasp in pain as I tear free, flesh ripping from my leg. I''ll have to wait for my mana to fill before I can heal. I won¡¯t give it another chance. I drop my mace. I fire again. The hound leaps aside, barely dodging¡ªbut lands heavily on its side. Perfect. I fire another Mana Bolt, aiming for its exposed flank. The Mana Bolt slams into its side with another crack. But I don¡¯t stop. I fire again. Then another. And another. The hound staggers, struggling to stand. Its limbs tremble. But it growls with with fury. It whips its head toward me. The remains of its tongue flicker out¡ªstraight for my face. I don¡¯t have time to dodge. I have to strike first. But I¡¯m too slow. Mana crackles at my fingertips, but the Bolt won¡¯t make it in time. I grit my teeth¡ªbracing for impact. Then¡ª A flash of silver. A blade slices through the tongue effortlessly, sending it whipping to the side. Vorondil steps back, sheathes his sword, and nods. I exhale sharply. Then nod back in thanks. He gestures toward the hound. It¡¯s still alive. Its mangled tongue lolls from its mouth. Its armor plates are scorched and fractured. It shudders, struggling to rise. I won¡¯t allow it. I fire again. And again. I don¡¯t stop until the growls fall silent. Drazuul rumbles with a chuckle. "About time. I was starting to fall asleep." I smirk, my breath still ragged. "What was that thing?" I ask, bending down to grab my mace. Then¡ª The world lurches. I stumble. And face-plant into the dirt. Drazuul roars with laughter. I roll onto my back, dizzy but grinning. Vorondil kneels beside me, concern flickering in his emerald eyes. "The experience flooding into you will take a few moments to stabilize," Drazuul says, still trying to stifle his laughter. Vorondil stands. He turns toward Drazuul. And then¡ª I hear an audible gulp from the dragon. Beep. The silver screen flickers into view. I smile. Then pull up my quest reward. QUEST COMPLETE YOU''VE BEEN AWARDED A BLESSING. BLESSING OF THE FINAL BREATH: CONDITIONS NOT MET. BLESSING INACTIVE. My smile falters. Then slips completely. "What? Why is it inactive?" I mutter, scanning the words again. "Final Breath? Do I¡­ need to die to activate it?" I frown at the screen. Then shrug. If it won''t tell me, I''ll just have to wait. I glance toward Vorondil and Drazuul. The dragon''s head is lowered. Vorondil is standing over him, arms crossed, speaking in low, clipped tones. Even though I can''t understand the language, it''s clear¡ª He''s really tearing him a new one. I laugh quietly and pull up the silver screen again. AVAILABLE PASSIVE SKILLS: MANA REINFORCEMENT: Reduces physical damage taken by 1% per skill level. MANA DEFLECTION: Reduces magical damage taken by 1% per skill level. MANA ECHO: 1% chance per skill level to reactivate a mana-based skill at 50% efficiency. I scan the choices, my smile returning. Mana Echo is tempting¡ªbut I disregard it. I need something defensive. Physical or magical defense¡­ I haven¡¯t been hit with magic yet, so my hand drifts toward Mana Reinforcement. Then¡ª I hesitate. "If I take Mana Deflection¡­ would it work on my own skills, too?" I tap Mana Deflection immediately. A cool trickle pours through my body, and I exhale. Then I stand and stretch. Time to join the others. I stride toward Vorondil and Drazuul. Return to Limbo After Vorondil finished scolding Drazuul, he had me help him butcher the hound. He set aside the intact plates¡ªthe ones that weren¡¯t shattered or burned. Drazuul sighed heavily, his head resting against the ground. In a low growl, he muttered, "Sorry for putting you in danger." "I''ll try to be more considerate." Then, with a grunt, he pulled himself back up into his normal stance¡ªand immediately glared at Vorondil. Vorondil didn¡¯t react. Didn¡¯t even notice. He just kept pulling meat from the hound, focused entirely on his task. I scratched the back of my neck, trying to think of something to say. "It was pretty fun," I admitted with a grin. "Definitely more exciting than blowing up those small fries." Drazuul nodded, grinning back¡ª Then his expression shifted. Confusion flickered across his face. "What is a¡­ fries?" He spoke the word slowly, testing it. I paused. Blinking, I searched my mind for an answer. "Huh¡­" I frowned. "I don¡¯t know." I shrugged. Drazuul opened his mouth like he was going to ask something else¡ªthen closed it. Shaking his head, he settled back onto the ground. "You''re a mystery, human." I chuckled. Vorondil tapped my shoulder. I turned. He stood there, arms full of meat, nodding toward another pile on the ground. I scooped up the meat and followed him back to his house. Together, we prepared the meat and set it in the fireplace. But he didn¡¯t light the fire. Instead, he motioned for me to follow him outside. He pointed at the plates on the ground, then gestured toward the city. I nodded. I guess we¡¯re selling these. I picked up the plates and turned back to Vorondil. He gave a single nod¡ªthen began walking. Drazuul sighed as he stood, stretching his massive frame. "Another trip so soon?" he grumbled. "Walking this far grows tiresome." Despite his complaints, he followed behind us. I glanced back at him as we left the ruins. He just shook his head. Guess he¡¯s not in the mood to talk. We walked in silence all the way to Limbo. The familiar haze of fog pressed against the thin, unseen barrier surrounding the city, but inside the streets remained clear. As we arrived, Drazuul plopped down in his usual spot. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. I started to take a seat beside him when¡ª A firm hand landed on my shoulder. I turned. Vorondil motioned for me to follow. I hesitated, glancing at Drazuul. His eyes were closed, his tail swaying lazily behind him. Vorondil nodded toward the market. I nodded back. Then, without a word, we walked deeper into the city. ---- Drazuul opened his eyes, watching as Vorondil and Narmo disappeared into the marketplace. He sighed heavily and examined his claws. Normally, he wouldn''t let someone speak to him the way Vorondil had. Yet, for some reason, it didn¡¯t bother him. More than that¡ªhe had even lowered himself to apologize to the boy. Him. Apologizing. To a human. He scoffed, shaking his head. It should anger him. But it didn¡¯t. Was he growing soft? He wasn¡¯t sure if he liked the way things had developed. And yet... He did like the boy. Sometimes, he even saw him as a hatchling¡ªfumbling around with oversized wings. A low chuckle rumbled from Drazuul¡¯s chest as the imagery danced through his mind. He wished he had spent more time in the hatchery. Before¡ª Footsteps scampered up to him. His nostrils flared. A goblin. He turned his head, eyes flicking downward. The small creature rubbed its hands together, a scheming smile curling across its face. "Oh mighty dragon! I see you¡¯re without the human," the goblin spoke, its tone sly. Drazuul had taken it upon himself to learn many languages during his time as the Emperor¡¯s Inquisitor. He shook the thought off. He had no more ties to the Empire. "Why do you approach me?" he rumbled. The goblin flinched at the weight of his voice but quickly steadied itself. "I was hoping to make a deal," it said, standing a little straighter. Its grin widened. It waited. Drazuul stared. Silence stretched. "Well? Speak." His command rumbled through the air, thick as molten stone. The goblin¡¯s grin sharpened. It stepped forward, pulling a heavy coin purse from its belt. "What is the price of the boy?" It tilted its head, eyes gleaming. "A human is quite rare." Drazuul didn¡¯t hesitate. His claws shot forward, gripping the goblin with ease. Its smug expression crumbled into wide-eyed horror. With one swift motion, he tossed it into his mouth. A sickening crunch. Once. Twice. He swallowed. No. He wasn¡¯t growing soft. Drazuul glanced around, scanning the ground for any dropped valuables. To his satisfaction, the goblin¡¯s coin pouch lay discarded in the dust. Plucking it up, he loosened the drawstrings and peered inside. Gold glittered faintly in the dim light. He ran a claw through the coins, savoring their satisfying clink. The weight of the pouch stirred something deep in his mind. He had once possessed a hoard worthy of legends. A collection hidden away, untouched, unclaimed. Had it survived? It was well hidden. No fool would have dared to take from it. Yet, he had been gone for so long... The goblin had been well-prepared. Nearly five hundred coins filled the pouch¡ªan impressive sum. Enough for a lavish feast if he cared for such things. But food in Limbo had no distinction, no pleasure. His gaze flicked toward the dust where the goblin had been. A moment of regret. It had been flavorful. Perhaps he should have chewed longer. With a heavy sigh, Drazuul set the pouch down. He could find something useful for Narmo. Perhaps even an enchantment for the boy¡¯s mace. That, however, could wait. For now, his eyes slid shut. The city hummed around him, distant and unimportant. A deep breath. Then silence. First¡ª A nap. ---- Vorondil led me through the bustling market. It was the first time I had gotten this close. The stalls overflowed with strange and exotic wares. Weapons, armor, shimmering trinkets¡ªsome pulsing faintly with magic. A stand nearby displayed grotesque, pulsating fruit, their surfaces shifting as though something inside was trying to escape. The people were just as fascinating. Every face weathered by battle. Scarred, hardened, but... at ease. A casual intensity, as if violence was expected but unfeared. Yet, despite their indifference, some took notice of me. Strange looks. Calculating. Curious. Unconsciously, I stepped closer to Vorondil, my grip tightening on the chitinous plates in my arms. I considered asking him about the odd fruit, but the thought died in my throat. Vorondil wouldn¡¯t understand me anyway. He stopped abruptly. I nearly bumped into him. He pointed toward a wooden door and then to the plates I carried. I handed them over without question. He nodded once toward the building and stepped inside. The interior was dimly lit, the scent of heated metal and oil thick in the air. Behind the counter sat a hulking, one-eyed figure. A scar split his face, running from his forehead to his chest, cutting through an empty socket. He was missing an arm. And yet, he regarded us with utter boredom. Until he saw the plates. His good eye gleamed. A slow, toothy grin crept across his face. He said something in Elvish¡ªhis voice a gravelly rumble. I didn¡¯t bother trying to understand. Instead, I scanned the walls lined with sketches of armor. Some looked practical. Others... ceremonial? Shelves displayed an assortment of metalwork¡ªchest pieces, gauntlets, greaves. Weapons, too. My gaze landed on a three-horned helmet. Sturdy. Well-crafted. A touch of rust crept along one of the horns. I reached for it¡ª A sharp cough cut through the shop. I turned. The smith motioned me forward. I hesitated before stepping closer. He moved around the counter, looming over me. Taller than Vorondil. Massive. Then, without a word, he knelt beside me. And measured my height with a single outstretched hand. His hand was enormous. I glanced at Vorondil for reassurance. Arms crossed, he simply gave me a slight nod. ---- Narmo¡¯s rapid progression had been an unexpected surprise. Vorondil had never taken an apprentice before¡ªnever considered it. Yet, despite Narmo not being a swordsman, he found himself glad to be teaching him. There was something... fulfilling about it. His thoughts drifted to the beast Drazuul had dragged in. That could have gone horribly. Narmo wasn¡¯t ready for that level of combat yet. Vorondil exhaled silently, a controlled breath. And yet¡­ the boy had handled himself better than expected. If he kept him too protected, Narmo would become complacent. The dragon wasn''t entirely wrong. He shook his head. Narmo was still too weak to clear the dungeon. But perhaps¡­ It was time to push him into real combat. Demon of Loathing Threxil clung to the ceiling of the stone chamber, his eyes wide with hatred as he watched the dwarf sleep. Each soft snore sent a fresh wave of fury coursing through him. Kazgrim slept peacefully, lost in dreams of his family¡ªvisions of wealth and glory brought to the Deepdelver name. Though the reality was far less kind. The dwarf¡¯s breath hitched in his throat and paused for a moment. Threxil leaned in, holding his own breath, excitement flickering in his eyes. Then Kazgrim coughed and smacked his lips. The demon¡¯s expression twisted with rage. "JUST DIE ALREADY, YOU STUPID BASTARD!" he roared, voice echoing through the chamber. Kazgrim merely shifted slightly, rolling over and nuzzling deeper into his pillow. Threxil clenched his jaw, sharp teeth cutting into his lips, drawing thin lines of black blood. He seethed in silence as he heard footsteps approaching. The witch was coming to administer her medicine. His claws twitched with frustration. She would be the first to die when he was free of this wretched contract. Then, the rest would follow. And when he was done, he would finally escape this miserable prison. The door creaked open, and an insectoid woman with moth-like wings stepped through. A silken robe draped over her delicate frame, flowing as she moved with practiced grace. She approached the bed and settled at its foot, carefully preparing an assortment of vials. With a sudden drop, Threxil let himself fall from the ceiling. Mirexis flinched slightly but did not drop a single vial. The demon¡¯s lips curled as he hissed, "Mirexis..." Her antennae twitched, but she continued working in silence. "I''m going to rip your wings off slowly," he whispered, voice like a blade scraping stone. "Then I¡¯ll peel you open and DANCE ON YOUR BROKEN BODY!" His sudden shout reverberated through the chamber, dripping with malice. He lashed out, swinging a clawed hand toward her head. Agony erupted through his body. Threxil recoiled, snarling in pain. His claws curled into fists, his entire form trembling with unfulfilled rage. The contract wouldn¡¯t allow it. Even the simplest pleasure¡ªviolence¡ªwas beyond his reach. For now. Mirexis finished preparing the medicine, her hands trembling slightly. She tried to suppress her fear, but she knew the demon could smell it on her. She was practically radiating danger pheromones. She stood and walked to the other side of the bed, careful with her movements. Behind her, the demon stomped in a furious circle, his claws scraping against the stone floor. "DON¡¯T YOU DARE! LET HIM DIE, AND I¡¯LL KILL YOU QUICKLY!" Threxil bellowed, his voice reverberating off the walls. Ignoring him, she gently adjusted the dwarf so he wouldn¡¯t choke on the potion. Pushing his thick beard aside, she tilted the vial against his lips, letting the liquid trickle down his throat. He suckled weakly at the bottle, swallowing in small, labored gulps. "YOU DAMNED WITCH!" The demon¡¯s voice rose to an ear-splitting pitch. "WHEN I GET YOU, I¡¯LL EAT YOU ONE BITE AT A TIME! I¡¯LL KEEP YOU ALIVE UNTIL YOU¡¯RE NOTHING BUT A HEAD¡ªTHEN I¡¯LL STOMP IT INTO THE DIRT WHERE YOU BELONG!" Mirexis placed the now-empty bottle into her satchel with careful precision. Without sparing the demon a glance, she turned toward the door. "THEN I¡¯LL FIND YOUR SOUL IN THE ABYSS AND PULL IT APART ONE STRAND AT A TIME!" Threxil roared at her back. She steadied her nerves. Her antennae twitched as her mind screamed at her to flee, but instead, she turned. Meeting the demon¡¯s gaze head-on, her eyes burned with sudden resolve. "You will never leave this place," she said. Then, before her courage could waver, she spun on her heel and slammed the door shut behind her. Her knees buckled, and her vision blurred at the edges. She had never felt such fear as she had in that room. Behind her, the demon stared at the closed door, his body trembling with unchecked rage. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. And then he screamed. The very foundations of the chamber trembled with the force of it. Mirexis flinched at the sound, her wings fluttering involuntarily. For a single moment, she froze in place, heart hammering in her chest. Then she turned and hurried away, eager to leave this cursed place behind. She climbed the many stairs, her legs aching with each step, and finally emerged onto the streets of Limbo. The demon¡¯s screams still echoed faintly in her ears¡ªthough she couldn''t be certain if they were real or just trapped inside her mind. Every week, she had to descend into that accursed chamber to administer the dwarf¡¯s medicine. Every week, she endured the demon¡¯s seething rage, knowing that if she ever failed, that creature would be set free. She shuddered at the thought. She needed to escape this place before that could happen. But there was one problem. The Gatekeeper. Her antennae drooped as she considered her situation. That silent, unyielding force standing between her and freedom was almost as terrifying as the demon itself. With a deep sigh, she pushed her thoughts away. Right now, she needed a drink. Navigating through the winding streets, she made her way to the only tavern in Limbo¡ªSolhaven. A little slice of heaven in this wretched prison. Stepping through the doors, she was immediately greeted by the sight of a full-blown bar fight. Bottles shattered. Fists flew. Tables crashed to the ground as men and beasts alike brawled with reckless abandon. Mirexis calmly skirted around the chaos and took her usual seat at the bar. The bartender, an unshakable figure with cool, observant eyes, barely acknowledged the ruckus behind him. He methodically cleaned a glass before setting it down and turning to her with a faint smile. "Same as usual?" he asked, though the question was merely a formality. Before she could answer, he placed a cracked glass of amber liquid on the counter. "Yes, thank you," she murmured, cupping the glass in both hands. She took a slow sip, the liquor spreading warmth through her weary body. "Anytime," the bartender replied, his voice smooth and measured. He glanced over her shoulder as a hulking orc approached. "Anyone sittin¡¯ here?" the orc grunted, motioning to the stool beside Mirexis. She shook her head. "Ahh, good," the orc said, grabbing the stool¡ªonly to slam it over the head of a nearby beastkin. The fight escalated. The bartender simply sighed, picked up another glass, and resumed cleaning, unfazed by the mayhem around him. "It''s a bit busier than usual, isn''t it?" Mirexis asked, swirling the remnants of her drink in its cracked glass. The bartender grinned before shrugging. "People get excited when someone passes the Gatekeeper. Restores their hope." He chuckled, casting a glance at the ongoing brawl. "Though I wish they''d find a calmer way to celebrate." Mirexis set the glass down and leaned forward on the counter. "Who was it this time? The big lion guy? He had nice muscles," she mused. The bartender tapped a finger against his chin, thinking. "No, I think he died in the dungeon." He shook his head before continuing, "It was that jackass who never paid his tab. Ice mage, I think. I''ll be hunting him down when I leave." He flashed a grin, revealing small, gleaming teeth. Mirexis shuddered slightly and stared down at her drink. "Anything else interesting happen lately?" she asked, absentmindedly tracing the rim of her glass with a finger. The bartender picked up another glass, his movements practiced and unhurried. "I''ve heard there''s a human roaming around." The bar went noticeably quieter at the mention of the word. A few listeners edged closer, their interest piqued. The bartender sighed and shook his head. "But he''s guarded by the dragon and that elf swordsman." A collective groan rippled through the onlookers before they lost interest and promptly resumed fighting. Mirexis leaned in closer, lowering her voice. "What''s a human?" she whispered. The bartender hesitated for just a second before setting his glass down and leaning toward her. "They''re powerful creatures pulled into this world from somewhere far away. I''ve heard stories of them shaping the fate of entire kingdoms." An image of a towering, muscle-bound warrior flashed through Mirexis¡¯ mind. She quickly covered her face, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. "And there''s one here? Where?" she asked, voice laced with curiosity. The bartender sighed, leaning back against the counter. "I sent Gobble out to see if he could hire him. Said they usually hang around the edge of the marketplace." He smirked. "Imagine¡ªa human waiting tables. I''d be the talk of the town for sure." He let out a hearty laugh. Mirexis tilted her glass back and drained it in one gulp before setting it down with a soft clink against the counter. She reached into her pocket, pulling out two coins, and slid them across to the bartender. "I''m gonna take a look for myself," she said with a grin. A flicker of concern crossed the bartender¡¯s face. "Don''t do anything stupid. You''re one of my less annoying customers," he said, though his features soon twisted into a smirk. She matched his grin. "I know I''m your favorite." The bartender chuckled. "That¡¯s what they all say." He shook his head before adding, "Good luck." She waved him off and, skillfully avoiding the ongoing fights, made her way out of the tavern. The walk to the marketplace was unhurried. As she moved, her eyes wandered upward to the massive chain stretching endlessly into the fog. Vealith. A home she could never return to. She missed her hive. She shook the thought away. They were gone. All of them. But maybe... maybe she could start a new one. A playful thought crept into her mind¡ªif she became a queen, she could build something new, a fresh start. And then, the image of the supposed human resurfaced. Broad shoulders. Strong arms. She giggled to herself, brushing away the idle fantasy as the marketplace came into view. She didn¡¯t know exactly what she was looking for, but she had an idea. If she couldn¡¯t find the human, she¡¯d look for the dragon or the elf. She had seen them both before, whenever they challenged the Gatekeeper. They were probably the two who fought him the most. ---- Threxil slammed his head into the wall¡ªagain and again. If he couldn¡¯t hurt people, he¡¯d hurt the walls instead. A loose stone dislodged from the ceiling, tumbling to the floor with a sharp crack. He turned to it with a snarl. How dare it interrupt him. With a furious kick, he sent it hurtling across the chamber, where it struck the door with a heavy thud. Then, a thought crept into his mind, curling into a sinister grin across his face. That witch wouldn¡¯t be able to give the bastard his medicine if she couldn¡¯t get through the door. A low chuckle rumbled from his throat as he tore into the walls with reckless fury, ripping stone from its place, sending chunks crashing to the floor. He¡¯d bury the entrance¡ªseal it shut. And when he was free, he¡¯d bury this world in corpses. His snarls twisted into a ravenous cackle, echoing through the chamber like a promise of impending carnage. Magic teacher Vorondil pays the large smith, who takes the materials to a room in the back of the building. Vorondil nods toward the door, and I follow him out. As we walk back through the marketplace, I eye the strange, pulsating fruit suspiciously. Noticing my gaze, Vorondil looks at the fruit and then back at me with a slight smile. He approaches the stall, hands a few coins to the vendor, and grabs one of the fruits. He tosses it to me, and I catch it with both hands. The fruit is incredibly squishy, nearly bursting under my grip. I give him a grin, and he nods toward Drazuul. The dragon is lounging at the edge of the marketplace, idly picking his teeth with a claw. I look down at the fruit. It pulses slightly, almost translucent, with a light blue hue. Dark veins stretch throughout it like roots. I decide to hold onto it and eat it later when we''re back at the ruins. We approach Drazuul, who looks at us with a bored expression before glancing over our shoulders. "Who''s your friend?" he asks, flicking his tail to point behind us. I turn to see a woman twisting her hands nervously. Her features are insectoid, and she''s dressed in a flowing silken robe. Her antennae twitch slightly when we face her. She takes a few tentative steps forward. Vorondil¡¯s hand moves to the hilt of his sword, and she stops in her tracks, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender. She says something in a language I don¡¯t understand. It doesn¡¯t sound like Elvish. She motions toward me, and Vorondil watches her warily for a moment before giving a slight nod. His hand remains on his sword. She takes a few more cautious steps and speaks directly to me. I give her a confused look, then glance at Drazuul. Drazuul continues to pick his teeth before looking down at me. "She asked if you¡¯d be willing to answer a few questions." He tilts his head, a trace of amusement in his voice. "You should really learn more languages. It would make things easier." I scratch the back of my neck. "It¡¯s hard to answer her if I can¡¯t even speak her language." Just as I¡¯m about to shake my head, her antennae begin to glow. I activate Mana Sense and watch as tendrils of mana sparks reach toward me. I instinctively duck to the side, dodging them. Vorondil¡¯s grip tightens on his sword, and he glares at the woman. The tendrils retract as she raises her hands again in a calming gesture. She says something to Drazuul and motions toward me. Drazuul sighs and looks down at me. "She wants to establish a mental link to speak with you telepathically. Letting others into your mind can be dangerous," he rumbles. "But it should be fine this once. If she tries anything, I''ll eat her." He glances at Vorondil with a toothy grin. "Or what''s left of her, at least." The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. He chuckles, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. I nod to the woman, and her antennae begin to glow again. I watch as the tendrils of mana creep toward me. They stop at my chest, hitting a faint barrier. The woman staggers slightly, her antennae glowing brighter. The mana pushes past the barrier, and a slight tingling sensation covers my mind like a blanket. "Hello... human," a faint voice echoes through my mind. There''s a hint of disappointment in the tone. "Uhh... hi," I think back at her. The sensation is strange, like I¡¯m pushing mana through the connection. The woman flinches, and a sharp whine echoes through my mind. I grimace at the sudden sound. "Loud..." The voice echoes even fainter than before, and she steadies herself. "Sorry," I think more quietly, though I¡¯m not entirely sure if that¡¯s how this works. She grimaces but nods as her antennae glow slightly brighter. "You have a very powerful mind. Are you a mage?" she asks, glancing at the mace on my hip with a confused expression. "I''m not sure. Most of my skills do revolve around mana, though," I respond slowly, trying to whisper in my mind. Her antennae twitch rapidly, but she doesn¡¯t show any signs of pain, so I assume being quieter was a step in the right direction. "What is your class and level?" Her face twists in concentration as her voice grows slightly louder in my mind. "My class doesn''t have a name, and I''m level twelve," I think back, trying to maintain my volume. The connection snaps suddenly, and she staggers, falling back. A look of confusion and fear crosses her face. Was I being too loud again? Vorondil gives me a look of concern, and I shrug in response. Behind us, Drazuul chuckles. The woman quickly stands and brushes the dirt off her robe. Her face reddens, and her antennae begin to glow again. The mana pushes through the barrier, slower this time. "How are you here?" Her voice echoes through my mind weakly. I shrug and shake my head. I don¡¯t want to risk speaking if it could hurt her again. She smiles faintly and shakes her head. "You can speak. I was just taken by surprise." Before I can respond, she continues, "You have very limited control. Have they helped you train with mana, or have they been focusing solely on combat?" She motions toward the mace on my hip. Her voice grows stronger with each word. I shake my head. "I''ve been training my skills, but I don''t have one that helps with mana control," I think in a whisper. She laughs softly before responding, "You don¡¯t need a skill for that." A thoughtful look crosses her face. "I can help you if you''d like." She glances at Vorondil. "That is, if they allow it." I look over at Vorondil, who watches our interaction with a confused expression. I turn to Drazuul. "She wants to teach me how to control mana," I explain to the dragon. Drazuul hums in thought. "Learning how to control your skills would help you in the long run." He turns to Vorondil and speaks a few words in Elvish. Vorondil looks the woman over for a moment before nodding and relaxing slightly. Drazuul raises his head high. "We''ll allow it," he says with a hint of pride in his tone. I turn back to the woman to see a slight smile on her face. "So, when do we start?" I ask in a mental whisper. "We can start today if it wouldn''t interfere with your other training," she responds. I shrug. "I don¡¯t think it will. How long will it take?" I ask mentally. "It depends. Something tells me you have a good aptitude, so learning the basics shouldn''t take too long." Her antennae twitch slowly as she speaks. "I look forward to learning from you then," I say, giving her a slight bow. She beams at me, her expression warm. "And I look forward to teaching you." The last light pt.2 Vorondil turned away from the mirror and took his position by the door. He glanced around the familiar room while the princess finished preparing for the council meeting. The walls were adorned with paintings the princess had created herself. He''d seen them countless times, but even he had to admit they possessed an allure. Each painting depicted landscapes the princess had visited, capturing every detail with remarkable accuracy. He had accompanied her on most of those trips, and it never failed to amaze him how vividly she could recreate the scenes. Golden rays of sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow on the ornate furniture. His eyes lingered on the bed¡ªa lavish arrangement of blankets and pillows that looked rather inviting. The princess was notoriously unkempt in the mornings, a trait he found both amusing and endearing. An image flashed through his mind: the princess, her face locked in concentration, a streak of orange paint under her eye as she carefully captured a sunset they''d witnessed in the western reaches of the kingdom. He cleared his throat, shaking off the memory, and realized he''d been staring at the bed for too long. He had no need for a bed himself. One of his skills dampened his need for rest, requiring only a few minutes of meditation each day. Still, he couldn''t help but acknowledge that it looked remarkably comfortable. A sudden, sharp shriek echoed from the princess¡¯s dressing room, quickly followed by another. Vorondil reacted instantly, sword drawn as he kicked the door open with a loud crack. Inside, the princess and her handmaid stood atop stools, watching a large rat frantically scurry across the floor. Vorondil exhaled a sigh of relief and sheathed his blade. The rat made a break for the door, and Vorondil raised a foot to put an end to the creature. "WAIT! Don¡¯t hurt it!" the princess pleaded. Vorondil''s foot hovered in the air as the rat scurried past and darted beneath the bed. Vorondil¡¯s eyes locked onto the princess, and he froze. A half-fastened corset clung to her chest, her silver hair flowing loosely around her shoulders. The handmaid quickly stepped forward, covering the princess with the dress they had prepared. Vorondil caught himself and turned sharply, but not before he saw a faint flush creep across the princess''s delicate features. His heart hammered in his chest, but he forced himself to speak evenly. "I''ll see our guest out to the garden," he said, his voice pitched slightly higher than normal. He stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind him¡ªthough the latch, now broken, refused to catch properly. He shook his head in mild frustration. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Glancing around the room to make sure the rat hadn¡¯t escaped elsewhere, he knelt beside the bed. Underneath the bed lay several stacks of books. He¡¯d spent countless hours listening to the princess speak of the grand stories she loved, and he couldn¡¯t help but smile at the thought before spotting the rat squeezing itself between two stacks of books. In a swift motion, he snatched the rat, accidentally knocking over a stack of books. Thankfully, they landed quietly, with no cloud of dust rising. The rat wriggled in his grasp, valiantly attempting to escape. Realizing the futility of its situation, it resorted to its only remaining option: sinking its teeth deep into Vorondil¡¯s thumb. He hissed softly but refused to drop the foul creature. He had given his word that he¡¯d take it to the garden, and that was precisely what he intended to do. He stood and left the princess¡¯s quarters, the rat continuing to gnaw angrily at his thumb. Vorondil shot a glare at the beast before giving it a slight squeeze. Its eyes bulged slightly, and it promptly stopped its resistance. The rat stared up at Vorondil with pure, primal terror. He sighed, glancing at the squirming creature. The castle had cats for dealing with pests like this, yet here he was, burdened with the task. He stomped through the castle halls, the occasional servant peeking out from their hiding spots with confused expressions. Rounding a corner, he spotted one of the princes berating a servant. Vorondil considered taking another path, but before he could turn, the prince¡¯s eyes locked onto him. "You there, guard! Come here!" the prince commanded with a sneer. Vorondil concealed the rat behind his back. He despised dealing with the other royals, and if they saw him carrying vermin, he¡¯d never hear the end of it. The prince looked down his nose at him, emerald eyes blazing with fury. "I want this¡ªthis peasant!" he spat the word as if it were a slur. "I want them executed." He smiled smugly at the trembling servant. "See to it that it happens," he added before turning with a huff and storming off. Vorondil looked down at the servant. The young elf was barely fifty by the look of him, tears streaming down his face, a look of defeated acceptance on his features. Vorondil sighed deeply and pulled out a handful of gold coins with his free hand, pressing them into the servant''s palm. "Take these and head south," he said. The servant looked up at him, face full of confusion. He opened his mouth to stammer out words, but Vorondil held up a hand to silence him¡ªthe hand with the rat. They both looked at the squirming creature for a moment, and the rat stared back at them, eyes wide with fear. Vorondil cleared his throat, quickly moving the rat behind his back. "Don¡¯t let anyone catch you with those coins. They¡¯ll think you stole them," he said, turning to leave. "Thank you..." the servant forced out, voice hoarse with emotion. Vorondil grunted in response and continued down the hall. Most of the royals had a disturbingly violent streak. He was sure the servant''s offense had been something trivial¡ªperhaps as simple as asking a question out of turn. Vorondil finally reached the garden and released the rat near a cluster of flower bushes. The creature looked up at him with wide, fearful eyes before glancing at the surrounding greenery, clearly seeking a path to escape. ¡°Go on, you stupid beast,¡± Vorondil muttered, waving his hand in a vaguely threatening manner. The rat squeaked once more before bolting into the cover of the bush. He looked down at his hand, the faint bite mark still visible. He¡¯d need to get it treated. The last thing he wanted was to contract some disease from that foul creature. Just as he turned to leave, another squeak caught his attention. He glanced back to see the rat peeking out from the edge of the bush, watching him with an almost hesitant curiosity. He frowned, shaking his head at the beast¡¯s audacity. ¡°Don¡¯t test my patience,¡± he muttered, turning on his heel. He started his journey back to the princess¡¯s quarters, deciding he¡¯d visit the apothecary once she was safely asleep for the night. The last light pt.3 Vorondil reentered the princess¡¯s quarters to find her standing before the mirror, adding the final touches to her appearance with the help of her handmaid. He silently took his position by the door. Hopefully, no more interruptions would occur¡ªhe didn¡¯t like leaving his station, especially not so frequently. The princess giggled and gave a little spin, her dress flowing gracefully around her. ¡°How do I look?¡± she chirped. ¡°You look absolutely stunning, mistress,¡± the handmaid replied with a warm smile. ¡°Indeed,¡± Vorondil added, surprised to feel the ghost of a smile on his own face. The princess twirled again, her expression bright with delight. She took the handmaid¡¯s hands in hers, squeezing them gratefully. ¡°Thank you, Lorain! This dress is perfect!¡± she beamed before turning her radiant smile toward Vorondil. ¡°And thank you, too! We would¡¯ve been trapped in there forever without you!¡± Vorondil dipped his head slightly, placing a hand over his chest. ¡°I was simply performing my duties, princess. No thanks are required.¡± When he met her gaze again, her expression had shifted¡ªher brows knit together in concern. He froze. Had he said something wrong? Was this about what had happened in the dressing room? That had to be it. He had been so foolish¡ªhe had yet to apologize. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could form the words, the princess suddenly stepped closer. He tensed as she reached for his hand, her delicate fingers brushing against his palm. ¡°What happened?¡± she asked softly, turning his hand slightly to examine it. She traced a fingertip lightly over the faint bite mark. Vorondil¡¯s thoughts went blank. The scent of her floral perfume flooded his senses, clouding his mind. He struggled to grasp onto anything to say, but the words eluded him. The princess met his gaze, her silver eyes searching his. Realization flickered across her face as she suddenly became aware of their proximity. She quickly dropped his hand and took a step back, a faint flush creeping onto her cheeks. Vorondil cleared his throat, willing his thoughts back into motion. ¡°The rat bit me,¡± he stated bluntly, his voice coming out more monotone than usual. He shook his head slightly, regaining his composure. ¡°I was planning to visit the apothecary tonight.¡± The princess shook her head. ¡°No,¡± she said bluntly. Vorondil opened his mouth, then closed it. Would it be a problem for him to visit the apothecary? It wasn¡¯t uncommon for him to train through the night, so leaving then should have been fine. He was about to ask when the princess suddenly took his hand again. His thoughts froze for the second time that day. ¡°We¡¯ll visit the healer now,¡± she declared, pushing the door open and tugging him softly forward. ¡°But mistress... the council,¡± the handmaid protested, biting her thumbnail¡ªa habit she had, unwittingly, passed on to the princess. ¡°They can wait,¡± the princess said curtly, pulling Vorondil out the door without a second thought. The handmaid stammered, struggling to form a response fast enough. Vorondil cast her a pleading glance as he was unceremoniously dragged away, but to his dismay, she only covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. The princess¡¯s heels clicked softly against the marble floor as they wove through the castle corridors. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°Princess, you really don¡¯t have to¡ª¡± Vorondil started, but she glanced back at him with a pout, her silver eyes shimmering with worry. ¡°It¡¯ll get infected if we don¡¯t treat it soon,¡± she huffed, turning away. An unfamiliar emotion twisted in Vorondil¡¯s chest, sharp and unrelenting. He swallowed hard. He didn¡¯t protest again. Instead, he let her pull him along. As they rounded a corner, a familiar figure appeared¡ªthe prince Vorondil had seen harassing the servant earlier. Apparently, he hadn¡¯t had his fill of cruelty for the day. "Ah, my lovely sister," the prince sneered, his gaze dripping with condescension. A more familiar emotion surged in Vorondil¡¯s chest. Rage. The prince¡¯s eyes flicked toward him, landing on the hand clasped tightly in the princess¡¯s. His expression twisted with disgust. Vorondil instinctively tried to pull away, but the princess tightened her grip. The prince¡¯s lips curled as he prepared to spew something vile, but before he could, the princess lifted her free hand. ¡°No.¡± Her tone was final. Without sparing him another glance, she simply continued walking. The prince''s eyes flared with confusion. He stood there, dumbfounded, as they rounded the next corner and disappeared from sight. Vorondil tried¡ªhe really did¡ªbut for the first time in years, he failed to suppress a laugh. It erupted from his throat, sharp and musical, startling even himself. The princess turned to him, wide-eyed at first, before her lips curled into a smile, and she joined in. For a brief moment, Vorondil allowed himself to revel in it. The sheer, absurd joy of watching that spoiled wretch get put in his place so thoroughly. He wiped a stray tear from his eye as he forced himself to calm. The princess, still smiling, turned forward and resumed leading him toward the healer. "I''ve never heard you laugh before," she mused. "It¡¯s nice." Heat crept up Vorondil¡¯s neck, his usual control slipping yet again. And as if some angel had whispered the words into his ear, a response formed effortlessly in his mind. "Not nearly as radiant as yours." The princess let out a soft giggle, her fingers squeezing his just slightly. Pride swelled in Vorondil¡¯s chest. He paused, bewildered by his own behavior. Perhaps the rat had infected him with something. He wasn¡¯t usually so... emotional. Then, as if on cue, the scent of the princess¡¯s perfume drifted into his senses, floral and intoxicating. Perhaps it wasn¡¯t the rat at all. Too soon, they arrived at the entrance to the royal healer¡¯s quarters. The princess let go of Vorondil¡¯s hand and rapped softly on the door. He flexed his fingers, the warmth fading far too quickly. "Enter," a deep, aged voice called from within. The princess pushed the door open, stepping inside. As they entered, a cat bolted past, weaving deftly between Vorondil¡¯s feet before vanishing into the hall. The chamber was lined with shelves, each overflowing with books and neatly labeled vials. At the far end, a robed man stood near a collection of potted herbs, carefully watering them. He turned at their arrival, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Ah, princess. To what do I owe the honor?" he asked, voice laced with genuine affection. "I need you to heal Vorondil. He was wounded defending me," she said, her gaze flicking toward the bookshelves before settling on the healer. The old man¡¯s expression softened further. "But of course." He gestured for Vorondil to approach. "Come. Let me see the damage." Vorondil strode forward and extended his hand. The healer examined the shallow scratch, and a smile tugged at his lips before he let out a low chuckle. The laughter died instantly under the weight of the princess¡¯s glare. He cleared his throat, hastily composing himself. "Ah, yes¡­ surely a grave wound," he said, voice full of exaggerated solemnity. He raised a hand over the scratch, and a golden light washed over the skin. The redness faded, the cut vanishing entirely. "There we go," the healer said kindly, stepping back. He bowed to the princess. "If there is anything else, do not hesitate to visit." The princess smiled warmly, and Vorondil caught the subtle way her posture relaxed. He hadn''t even realized how tense she was. "I will. Thank you, Elaris," she said, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. Then, without hesitation, she reached for Vorondil¡¯s hand once more, pulling him back into the hall. He could get used to this¡ªwalking by her side like this. It wasn¡¯t appropriate, but it was pleasant all the same. Suddenly, she stopped and turned to him. Vorondil instinctively schooled his expression into something neutral, but despite himself, a smile tugged at his lips. Before he could say anything, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. His entire body went rigid. Panic surged through him, and he nearly pushed her away, but she only held on tighter. "I''m glad you''re okay," she murmured softly against his chest. "Thank you for always being there when I need you." Vorondil¡¯s heart clenched violently. He stood frozen, unsure what to do¡ªwhat he should do. But after a moment, he let himself sink into the warmth of her embrace. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed gently. "I will always be yours, Princess," he whispered. She shifted slightly, looking up at him with a radiant smile before pulling away, taking his hand once more. As she led him back through the halls, her fingers squeezed his tightly. Vorondil watched the way her silver hair swayed with each step¡ªbut for some reason, all he could see was the sun.