《Arcanist In Another World: [An Archmage Isekai LitRPG]》


 Chapter 1: The Escape

    I hope it¡¯ll be a quick death, Archmagus Valens thought for the thousandth time as he felt the handcuffs bite deep into his skin. Fashioned from Rootmetal, a most terrible substance created by First of the Magi as punishment for mages, the manacles quieted the myriad songs of the ambient mana around him.


    Men sat about the room, waiting as a mighty voice bounced back from the whitewashed walls, rendered and cleaned of any spots. The place had a damp, close feeling about it. There were no windows, as the study was deep underground, away from curious eyes for good reason, and the glyph lamps flickered weakly like a set of candles battered by a strong wind.


    I did nothing wrong.


    Valens rested his eyes on the files scattered across the barwood table, then glanced up and sighed as Archmagus Eldras, the Headmaster of the Institute of Resonant Healing, went on with the second part of his tirade. He had a way with words, but Valens feared that even a single file from the table would be enough to seal his fate.


    ¡°This is simply absurd!¡± Master Eldras was saying, demanding with a jab of his hand an explanation from the guards, even if he knew they had every right to make these arrangements. ¡°This is no mere criminal you can wrap a rope around and hang for the public to satisfy their primal needs! This is the youngest Archmagus the wide circle of the world has ever seen, the genius who reached the Resonant Healer status at the mere age of twenty-two! And yet you seek to punish him just because, in his pursuit of knowledge, he scraped the surface of Warmagic? I shall see¡ª¡±


    ¡°Scraped the surface?¡± came a voice, followed by footsteps as a pale, lanky man strolled into the room. There was a confident kick to his heels, a permanent sneer to his lips, and a gash so deep that it nearly split his nose in two. He glanced over the files on the table and gave a quick, disappointed sigh. ¡°I¡¯m no scholar, nor an Archmagus that can pry into the knowledge laid before me, yet my birds told me what I needed to know.¡±


    ¡°Your birds govern the integrity of the Inquisition, then, is it?¡± Master Eldras regarded the man with a deep scowl after a brief pause. ¡°Since when do we pay heed to the nonsense of ignorant fools? Old friend, you must listen to me. My disciple has no intention to shake the foundation upon which we built this world. It¡¯s merely a scholarly pursuit, a tinge of curiosity as to why he sought the ancient knowledge.¡±


    ¡°Careful, Eldras, you¡¯re treading a fine line here. Do remember that your words can be used against you,¡± the lanky man said. ¡°I see in your eyes the deep affection you have for this young man. Perhaps this is the thread he used to pull you into his little scheme. But you mustn¡¯t let the bond between Master and disciple drag you down to the mud. We¡¯re only here for the sinner.¡±


    Valens shook his head. So they would hang him.


    ¡°That sinner saved thousands from the claws of death.¡± Master Eldras peered into Valens¡¯s eyes before raising a hand toward the Inquisitor. ¡°That sinner is a man this Empire cannot afford to lose. He¡¯s a gift¡ª¡±


    ¡°History never lies!¡± the tall man growled in a gravelly voice. ¡°We learned our lessons with blood and bones, my old friend. Lessons I intend to remember as long as I keep this chair. I urge you to do the same, lest we lose the precious time we have spent rebuilding this world from scratch.¡±


    He turned to his men, all looking zealously into his eyes, fingers eager around the handles of their guns. A single command, and they would bring Valens before an angry crowd, read the list of his sins for all to hear, and put an end to his life to keep the monotony of this world.


    ¡°Magic shall be used only for the good of people. Magic shall be monitored and kept under tight leash! If he can¡¯t be satisfied with the gift of healing, then who can say where his ambition would end? I¡¯m afraid we have no other choice but to quell this fire before it spreads to the whole world. Another lesson for the people. Another reminder that the Empire is and will be the Eternal Protector of the common good. Take him!¡±


    Hands reached out toward him. Fingers curled painfully tight around his arms. They took him away from his Master, away from the room. Men pressed him, dragging him wincing down the hallway.


    Valens let them. It was over.


    His Master had told him once that this curiosity was dangerous. A venomous snake, slithering around his heart, urging him for more. Nothing would satisfy the need burning in his chest. It was a sickness. Many had fallen into its claws. History was full of lessons.


    Valens smiled. He knew these halls well. Steps leading to the entrance floor. Walls adorned with expensive paintings. Pedestals hauling the weight of masters of old, their wisdom captured in polished marble. It seemed a fitting parade for a young Magus. Valens couldn¡¯t have asked for more.


    They dragged him up the steps, through the stone walls, out into the morning sky. The first lights of the sun kissed the horizon with gentle grace as trains hummed over the railways. So, he had a few more hours. They would take their time gathering a crowd; after all, no deed of Inquisition had been carried out in silence nowadays.


    Perhaps, Valens thought, there would come a cry for justice from the crowd at his hanging. Perhaps the child he had saved the other day, or the officer who had lost both his legs in a skirmish, would offer a word for him. He had touched many lives in his eight years of practicing healing. He just thought he could do more.


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    Warmagic. Battlemagic. The words alone had been forbidden, often uttered in whispers shaded under heavy hands. A grand topic that nearly broke the world a thousand years prior.


    But then, it was obscure in its meaning. What was Warmagic? Wind Magi often used the currents to guide a storm, or the Earth Magi built ten-story buildings and ever-grand machines, commanding earthquakes with a certain finesse. Or Life Magi such as himself, stitching the gravest wounds with their delicate control over mana.


    Turn them around, then these too could be used as Warmagic. Therefore, it made little sense as to why Fire was forbidden and the Void was sealed. Valens guessed that, with the surveillance of the Inquisition and their Rootmetal tools, they needed not to fear these elements.


    There must have been a reason. Valens was sure of it. Why would the First of the Magi decide to turn against the others? Why, in the old texts he¡¯d found by chance, did he come across that same passage? Connected worlds. A warping ritual to the lands of beyond where the truth of it lay waiting.


    ¡°This is madness!¡± Master Eldras was keeping up with the group, gray beard dancing wildly as he tried to reach Valens. ¡°A grave mistake!¡±


    The guards paid him little heed, pushing Valens toward the Inquisition looming in the distance¡ªa great tower, built with an ungodly amount of rootmetal. Its presence alone pressed hard on the dwindling ambient mana, ever reminding the Magi that not a single one of their steps would go unnoticed.


    Down through the metal doors, into the dark dungeons. The air weighed on Valens like a leaden blanket, pressing him to the ground. Without the touch of mana, he felt as naked as a newborn, and just as helpless.


    They dropped him in a damp cell and closed the bars shut all around him, leaving him alone there. The Magus Dungeon scarcely saw more than a few offenders, as tradition demanded they be hanged first thing in the morning. Never had one of them been granted a trial. The Inquisition made sure they had ample evidence to avoid that.


    ¡°At least let me speak with my disciple one last time!¡± Master Eldras¡¯s voice rang in Valens¡¯s ears. He couldn¡¯t help the smile tugging at his lips. Stubborn, his Master had always been.


    Valens waited. It was silent here, and dark. Odd that even in this dungeon, his mind replayed the scraps of his research, files and words scrambling about in a jumbling mess. They had been close. So close that there was only a single thing missing from the ritual. The Void Sphere hidden deep in the Empire¡¯s vaults.


    That had been the end of him. That was how they caught him and now there was a price to pay. A bloody price, indeed.


    Still, his fingers brushed against the gemstones as he lifted his robe and checked his left thigh. Etched deep into his flesh were pebble-sized jewels, barely visible to an untrained eye. Recently charged with mana. Everything he would need for the ritual.


    He had been so close.


    ¡°Valens,¡± Master Eldras¡¯s voice brought him to the present as he glanced up at his aged face. The old man tried to smile, but it strained on his lips. Clasped in his right hand was an odd sphere, purely black and lustrous.


    ¡°Take this,¡± he said, reaching through the bars and forcing the sphere into Valens¡¯s hand. His eyes snapped back at the dungeon halls, toward the guards waiting a few paces away, as if scared they would take notice. But they were busy yawning, too tired to pay him any heed. The whole place was made of rootmetal, the only sure way against any Magus. Spells wouldn¡¯t work here. They had nothing to worry about.


    ¡°Master, is this¡­¡± Valens swallowed as the sphere gave him a strange feeling. It trembled in his palm, sending jolts of pain up his arm. ¡°How? And why are you giving me this?¡±


    ¡°You are the finest disciple I have ever had the chance to teach,¡± Master Eldras said, and he smiled as he caressed Valens¡¯s face. Tears welled behind his eyes. ¡°You are meant for more. You¡¯ve always been. Even the streets I had found you in couldn¡¯t hide the spark of your soul. I can¡¯t let you die. You can¡¯t die, do you understand me?¡±


    Valens shook under Master Eldras¡¯s gaze. It was as though his Master was speaking into his soul, stirring a part of him he didn¡¯t know existed. Valens hunched down, heart thumping in his chest, pressure building in his eyes. He clutched the sphere tight and leaned forward, wrapping his arms around the old man for one last time.


    ¡°You gave me a life, Master,¡± he said, tears trickling down his face. He couldn¡¯t hold them in. Shameful. A Resonant Healer couldn¡¯t give in to his emotions. It was a sign of inaptitude, a grave mistake for a man meant to deal with the most delicate wounds.


    But here was the end of the road, and his heart turned deaf against his pleas.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he said, voice shaking. ¡°Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Enough, the two of you!¡± came a guard¡¯s voice, impatient. ¡°Master Eldras, please leave the prisoner. Don¡¯t force our hands.¡±


    Master Eldras let go of him and gave him a deep look. ¡°You will find your true self in that world. Don¡¯t let anything stop you. Trust your own heart. Trust your gift. And if you ever have the chance¡­ Come back to me. This world needs saving.¡±


    With that, Master Eldras left him alone in the dungeon, the guards accompanying him up the stairs.


    A deep silence settled around the dark walls. Valens opened his palm and stared at the sphere, mind still fuzzy with Master Eldras¡¯s words.


    Can¡¯t be... How?


    He could feel the forbidden source stirring under the sphere, beckoning his soul with a promise he couldn¡¯t resist. His fingers clasped tight around it just as the gemstones in his thigh resonated with its presence.


    Four cores and three extremities. He had everything on his body, every single thing the ritual demanded.


    Valens shook his head. He couldn¡¯t leave his Master here. Void was his life¡¯s work. They were supposed to complete the ritual together, but now--


    Do I have any choice?


    Dark walls and the lusterless surface of the rootmetal bars. Thumping steps of the guards beyond. Grinding of the rootmetal tools in the dungeon. The executioner¡¯s axe. How many times had he seen it reap the souls of his friends? How many times had he witnessed a headless body crash into the ground in a spurt of blood?


    I don¡¯t¡­ They are going to kill me.


    Valens clenched his teeth as he felt the Resonance around him, and quested for Apathy. The invisible web of frequencies settled over his mind like a steely net. It cast away all the worries and fears clouding his thoughts, and then Valens gazed deep into the Void Sphere with eyes as cold as the dungeon¡¯s walls.


    I will return, and you will pay for your sins.


    The sphere alighted, lights streaking across his face. Something yanked at his body from beyond the dimensions, Void¡¯s sealed mana stabbing at his soul. An airy feeling filled his arms, and he felt himself weightless, drifting, the ground slipping away¡­ away from underneath his feet.


    The gravity took him off, and then he was facing an endless stretch of dark. Losing himself in the depthless maw of it.


    He plunged into the unknown.


    He screamed.


    ¡­..

 Chapter 2: Arcane Healer

    Valens woke with a sudden jolt. He was sprawled over the ground awkwardly, the back of his head stinging from the tough ground, knees drawn up near his chest. There was hardly a place in his body that didn¡¯t ache from hard use. There was no light. Nothing but the frequencies of the world that told him he was still alive.


    Awareness stabbed at him. He remembered where he was now. He¡¯d been in the cell, with the Void Sphere clutched tight in his hand, the last gift of--


    Master!


    He turned and twisted, scrunching his face up when a sudden stench stabbed at him. Rot and pus, his nose was full of the smell of them. Dark walls all around him. Stretching further away, jagged faces dripping wet.


    No sight of his Master. He was gone, for good, and now Valens was alone in a dark cave.


    He floundered to his feet. He blinked. Sounds dinned in his ears. Thousands of them. Their tunes carried a different feeling, almost joyful and free, not like the forbidden source suppressed with the rootmetal¡¯s presence.


    Life mana cuddled him, tight. Warm. Home. There, he could feel the wind. What was happening? Was the ritual a success? But this place looked disturbingly similar to a normal cave.


    Pain lanced through his hands when he tried to move.


    The handcuffs.


    They were gone, and left behind them a smoldering pain.


    Wincing, he reached to one of the gemstones stitched into his thigh, spreading the skin with the tip of his finger. Apathy took hold of his mind, muting the pain. He plucked one of the jewels, and raised it high to his eyes.


    It took him a year¡¯s pay to get a dozen of these jewels. Master Eldras thought they needed more of everything to be prepared against the unknown once the warping spell sent them off to that different world, where the truth of all things awaited.


    Pressure behind his eyes.


    Valens pinched the bridge of his nose.


    Onto the wound, now.


    That would keep his mind away.


    Immediate troubles and something he could focus on.


    Right. Pain. He lifted the Apathy off his mind, and welcomed the agony.


    He felt the stone, and mana started washing through his hands in waves, each time producing a Bloodsong that let him know how serious the wound was. From the slight ting in the otherwise harmonious frequencies, it seemed a few pieces of rootmetal had seeped into his blood flow.


    Scowling, he directed the life mana inside the stone to his pores, adjusting the frequencies of the Bloodsong to a healthy one. The delicate balance demanded focus. He had to find those bits of rootmetal and force them out of his blood flow.


    Life mana wormed its way through his veins. Each millisecond it released a new Bloodsong, the sound waves brushing and bouncing back from his veins to let Valens know every detail of the pursuit.


    Only a Life Magus could hear these frequencies, and only a Resonant Healer could command them. Valens had learned the craft in sixteen years, eight of which he spent at the Institute, bruising his elbows on sleepless nights. The other eight had been served as a Healer in the Empire¡¯s Lifeward.


    He fought back against the urge to stand straight when the next Bloodsong whispered into his ears. There, he found them. Their song had a metallic sound about it. Unnatural. Valens focused on the gemstone and commanded the life mana with practiced ease, forcing the bits to move against the current of his blood.


    Pain streaked across his arm, through his fingers, until small slits opened on both his wrists. His stomach revolted in disgust at the sight of rootmetal bits. Valens wiped them clean and used the life mana for a basic stitch to close the slits. A second after, both his hands looked as good as new.


    [Ding!]


    [You have been assigned the class ¡®Arcane Healer - Ancient¡¯]


    [You have been assigned the trait ¡®Resonance - Ancient¡¯]


    Ding! You have learned the Class Skill ¡®Apathy- Master¡¯. Do you want to register it in one of your skill slots?


    Ding! You have learned the Class Skill ¡®Lifesurge - Master¡¯. Do you want to register it in one of your skill slots?


    Ding! You have learned the Class Skill ¡®Lifeward - Master¡¯. Do you want to register it in one of your skill slots?


    Ding! You have learned the General Skill ¡®Mana Manipulation - Master¡¯ Do you want to register the skill in one of your skill slots?


    [Ding!]


    [You are currently in the Gate of the Necromancer where a Queststone is active.]


    [Gate of the Necromancer - Queststone


    Difficulty: C


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Description: Melton¡¯s King has given the claim of the Queststone to the Duality Guild. Cleanse the Necromancer¡¯s rot. Bring back the traitor¡¯s corpse.]


    [Quest has been accepted!]


    ¡°Wait!¡± Valens jerked back as a host of voices sounded inside his mind. Terrible waves of frequencies rushed to his head, and he doubled over, palms clamped over to his ears, eyes blanking at the lines of text hovering before his eyes.


    ¡°What is happening here?¡± he blurted out.


    ¡­..


    Valens scratched at his tangled stubble and scowled at the hovering texts that appeared out of nowhere. They didn¡¯t seem material, a fact that presented itself when he waved a hand through them and his fingers just passed through. Perhaps magic had a quality he wasn¡¯t aware of. He asked himself if there was anything as such in the old texts, perhaps a passage talking about magical letters kept in a dimension out of a magus¡¯s reach.


    But no, he was certain that he wouldn¡¯t forget something so positively absurd. And what was this strange, airy feeling that appeared in his stomach? Not as much as shock but more like a sudden joy that tingled in the deeper parts of his body. Tingling there on his core, as if mana was coursing through his veins.


    That was not possible.


    Apathy fixed the little gap through which this sudden joy spilled into his mind, and it was with a cold detachment that he felt the Resonance, focusing on the frequencies of his veins.


    Breath caught in his throat. There was scarcely a change in the outer web of his systemic veins, but something heavy was pressing over them from near his heart. Something that brimmed with a familiar weight.


    Valens sat shakily on the ground, rubbing the nape of his neck. Mana was there on his body. Not the energy stored in the gemstones and needed a touch of his skin to be used. Not the source of all magic that grew scarce by the day. No, this was mana in its rarest form, resting in a well fashioned from his own flesh, sloshing against the walls of his body like the waves of a gurgling river.


    That could only mean one thing.


    ¡°It worked,¡± he muttered when it dawned on him. The ritual worked after a number of attempts that had him question his life. After months of suffering and preparing in silence. After one last attempt that cost him his Master.


    It had worked, and that was why he could see magical letters in the air.


    He¡¯d promised to himself that he would keep an open mind to the truth of it when he¡¯d see the world. Even going from a village to a big town could leave a man breathless with the culture shock. Thus, he¡¯d been preparing himself for the biggest shock of them all through these last months.


    Tears welled in his eyes, fingers of his right hand tightening around his chest. Then he started laughing. A rasping, mad kind of laughter that echoed off the walls of the cave, echoed deep in his ears. He cried and laughed, and bashed his back into hard stone when he tried to work himself up.


    That brought his sense back.


    Right. Words asking him questions, obviously intending him to do something about them. But what was this about learning things he already knew? What about the quest? What Necromancer, and what rot that needed cleansing? Resonance was a Trait now? It was¡­ well, the frequencies of the world, a name known to all Life Magi that have ever lived. It wasn¡¯t a trait. It was¡­ eh, something entirely else.


    ¡°So I have learned them, you say, and you ask me if I wish to register them into skill slots?¡± Valens tapped a finger into his chin, a gesture he came to realize that made him look as busy and thoughtful as possible. Did wonders to stave off the occasional assistant eager to learn the tricks of the field. Never really worked against his Master, though.


    ¡°Why would I do that? And how would I do that, exactly? You can¡¯t fit the knowledge of arcane into a slot. The weight of it is felt only by a mind delicate enough to see its intricacies.¡±


    He waved his hand one more time through the magical letters, and paused when they slowly fizzled out. Cold, wet walls of the cave stared at him. Water dripped slowly down the ceiling in big droplets. The letters were gone. Erased likely because of his ignorant questions.


    Did they take offence because of his manners? But any disciple of arcane should be expected to ask the obvious questions! How else would anyone learn the ways of the world? If even something as little as a question was enough for them to brisk off, then what Valens faced here could only be one twisted possibility that he¡¯d never considered.


    A mad Magus. The worst kind, really.


    ¡°I wonder who is behind all this.¡± He sighed out a long breath, already regretting his decisions. He should¡¯ve known to expect a certain degree of madness from a fellow Arcanist. Nobody sane of mind would ever take a cave as their nest without being cracked in some ways.


    ¡°If you can hear me,¡± Valens muttered. ¡°Then do know that I¡¯ve sacrificed a lot for¡­ this. I¡¯m eager to learn. I want to learn! And I¡¯m a fast learner by any standards. Earned my Archmage mantle by the age of twenty-two. Nobody has done it before, and I mean, nobody in my world!¡±


    Silence. Looked like the other party had taken his manner in the worst way possible, so much that they refused to speak up to him. Strange thing was that there was scarcely any change in the Resonance, other than the sudden abundance of all kinds of mana weighing down on the wavelengths.


    Those words¡­ They were indeed resting in a different dimension that couldn¡¯t affect his immediate proximity. So then, he was facing a Void Magus ¡ª a complete blank, as he knew nothing of their abilities. But, by logic, having a bunch of words appear in the air should be well within the means of such an adept Magus.


    ¡°I¡­¡± Valens said, having decided to take the initiative. There was no other way. ¡°I want to learn. I accept your offer. Yes, put those things into skill slots, and tell me what that really means.¡±


    Another stretch of silence, Valens growing tense by the second, before those words appeared once again, this time a touch different.


    Ding! The Class Skill ¡®Apathy- Master¡¯ has been registered into your skill slots.


    Ding! The Class Skill ¡®Lifesurge - Master¡¯ has been registered into your skill slots.


    Ding! The Class Skill ¡®Lifeward - Master¡¯ has been registered into your skill slots.


    Ding! The General Skill ¡®Mana Manipulation - Master¡¯ has been registered into your skill slots.


    Remaining Class Skill Slots (7/10)


    Remaining General Skill Slots (7/10)


    Perfect. Not a single change other than telling him that they¡¯d been registered into skill slots. He managed an absolute focus around the Resonance when the words appeared, and failed to recognize any new tunes in the harmonious rhythm of this world. Who was doing this? And why must he face a mad Magus on the first day of his new life?


    By all means he should''ve felt glad. The ritual was a success. Yes! Months of work, and now he was finally here. But why¡ª


    ¡°Wait,¡± Valens scowled out into the dark of the cave, eyebrows raising. ¡°There was a Quest. Can it be that you want me to complete this quest before you give me the answers? A sort of trial to gauge my worth to see if I deserve your attention? Cleanse the Necromancer¡¯s rot, you¡¯ve said, but what is a Necromancer, exactly?¡±


    The wind picked up from behind him all of a sudden, flapping the tails of his ragged robe. Valens risked a glance back. The draft was suggesting the exit of the cave was forward, and if he knew anything about his mad colleagues, chances were this was indeed a sick challenge for him to overcome.


    Explore the cave. That seemed like the only option. And whatever this Quest wanted him to accomplish would surely be waiting for him there on the path. He nodded. Made sense. There was no reason for the Magi of this world to trust a man who appeared out of nowhere in this cave. They had every right to be suspicious of him.


    ¡°I¡¯m not here to play games,¡± he said, stretching his aching legs and peering out into the cave. ¡°But for this once I¡¯ll humor you.¡±


    ¡­¡­

 Chapter 3: Crack Tap Crack

    The cave stretched and forked and sprawled like a complex maze system, and without his affinity to wind mana Valens would¡¯ve likely been long lost in this earthly cage. He¡¯d been keeping an ear on the draft as he made forward, bare feet scraping against the wet, gravelly path, one hand pressed against the side wall to keep him steady.


    If he had to guess he¡¯d been at it for two hours, give or take, but hadn¡¯t yet managed to discover anything of any worth. There wasn¡¯t the so-called rot of the Necromancer here, nor was there any living thing from which he could begin to decipher the ways of the world.


    He found some worms on the path, of course. And tiny bugs and the occasional bat that made him flinch. Nothing, so far, seemed any different than his own world. Perhaps he¡¯d been too liberal with his imagination. Then again, he was always his own worst enemy, and there was something soothing that it had not been changed.


    You can¡¯t blame a man for being a dreamer, though. Valens expected to see some alien lifeforms the size of houses, terrible beasts out for human flesh, different races in their different ways of life. That was about how their talks went with his Master whenever they delved into the old texts.


    At least the abundance of mana was promising, and he certainly cherished the feeling of having his own mana pool near his heart, just like the masters of the olden times. So they weren¡¯t entirely lying in their promises.


    Not long after he paused in his steps when it sounded like something was rattling close by, like two stones grinding against each other. He craned his head round the corner and narrowed his eyes when a wave of rotten stench splashed across his face, making him blink.


    There, a few paces from the corner, stood a man¡¯s silhouette. It was too dark for him to make out the details, but the Resonance of the mana painted a rather difficult image in his mind.


    Thick bones, barely any skin, and live tissue left over them. The joints were half-broken, the right index finger bent hideously toward the palm. The side of his face had a gaping scar that slithered down the nape of his neck. Valens couldn¡¯t decide on an age, but guessed the man should¡¯ve been no more than thirty when he died.


    Was that a cadaver? Here in the depths of a cave, standing still as if it¡¯d been nailed to the ground? What was holding it, and most importantly, why would someone place a corpse here?


    He glanced back the way he came. The wind suggested he had to turn the corner to find the exit, but he wasn¡¯t amused by the notion that he would have to pass by a cadaver on his way. Who knew what awaited him further ahead? Certainly not some grinning, compassionate company eager to help a lost man find his way.


    Yet, he couldn¡¯t turn back. He had to complete the trial to prove he wasn¡¯t a fledgling, inept disciple who chanced his way into this world. No, for all reasons and purposes, he came here sacrificing a lot in the path. He wouldn¡¯t have this mad Magus laugh at him beyond what twisted dimension he¡¯d wedged himself in.


    He had been a disciple once, but not anymore. He was his own man now.


    So he focused on the Resonance, feeling the spell formula in the edge of his mind. He considered what to pick before settling on a particularly strong, and yet simple spell. It took him a moment to adjust the frequencies, his lips curling with distaste. Tongues of flame materialized out of the fingers of his right hand and coalesced into a single, burning sphere.


    Ding! You have learned the Class Skill ¡®Fireball - Proficient¡¯. Do you want to register it in one of your skill slots?


    Valens smiled at the words. He was glad to see this mad Magus had no qualms about Warmagic. The sight of a Fireball alone would have earned him a life sentence back in the Empire, and yet in this world, he was beginning to suspect the rules were different.


    Just as he hoped.


    Ding! The Class Skill ¡®Fireball - Proficient¡¯ has been registered into your skill slots.


    Remaining Class Skill Slots (6/10)


    But he couldn¡¯t be careless. He took in a long, deep breath to steady the hold of the Apathy and focused on the spell. To make sure the Fireball was stable, he had to leash it with all of his senses, keeping it shackled on the tip of his fingers¡­ Except he didn¡¯t have to, because the spell just floated there all by itself.


    Valens paused, scowling down at the wavering sphere that burned in his hand. Even without his tight control, the Fireball remained separated from the spell formula as if it¡¯d become a thing of its own.


    And it was feeding itself? From the pool of mana inside his chest? This was too odd! Spells didn¡¯t work like that. Spells should¡ª


    A rasping breath sounded close, followed by a rattling that shook the ground beneath his feet. Valens snapped his head up and witnessed a sight he wouldn¡¯t dare to imagine. The cadaver was dragging its feet across the cave, a mess of bones and half-remained flesh reeking of rot.


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    [Skeleton - lvl 5]


    Words appeared over its head, flashing in orange light.


    A target, was his first thought as he raised his hand. Whoever that mad Magus was, he must be quite sick in mind if he wished him to burn a cadaver.


    Something stirred inside the skeleton¡¯s bones. Something that inherently felt familiar. Valens narrowed his eyes as he felt the unmistakable song of the frequencies that belonged to mana. Death mana, to be more precise, that took hold of the creature from within.


    It was wobbling closer, hissing and rasping, rotten teeth crunching, jaw clacking shakily. Two bone-fingered hands were stretched out as if it was searching for something to stick its fingers at.


    Valens gazed around him. There was no one else here. The trial, as it appeared, would have him face the skeleton soon. While he had his Fireball still burning in the tip of his fingers, the skeleton looked¡­ well, bony and clumsy. It didn¡¯t seem to know how to use the death mana that kept it animated.


    Yet the sight of it sent a shiver down Valens¡¯s back. Its hollow eyes burned with an ominous light, green but not quite, a deep, unsettling color. Everything about it screamed unnatural, but Valens knew better than to expect normal in this world.


    So he twisted around the narrow cave, raised his hand and flung the Fireball into the skeleton¡¯s face, jolting in nervous expectation as he watched the sphere streak across the distance. It splashed with a sickening crunch, sending a sprinkle of burning rain about the walls. Tongues of fire slithered down and latched at the creature¡¯s bones, eating away the foul mana that filled it to the brim.


    It almost felt like watching a set of firewood crack in a bonfire, except this time the sounds were more clear and had a satisfying crunch to them. The cadaver started wailing. It banged its head to the walls, arms flailing and trying to quench the fire away, even ripping a bone or two from its ribcage in desperation.


    But it wouldn¡¯t work since there was a connection between those flames and the mana well in his chest. Valens was constantly supplying fire mana to the spell, and could feel those flames as if they were outgrown limbs he¡¯d decided to fling at the creature.


    There came a click when the skeleton went deathly still.


    Ding! You have managed to defeat [Skeleton - lvl 5]! For killing a creature above your own level, you are granted bonus experience.


    You have leveled up! 5 Stat Points granted!


    Ding! [Fireball(Proficient): 1 > 2]


    Ding! [Apathy(Master): 1 > 2]


    Ding! [Mana Manipulation(Master): 1 >3]


    ¡°Hah!¡± Valens swept his hand to kill the burning sphere, lips curling into a smile as he felt a wave of mana wash over him. Felt the energy alive in his chest. Burning. Waiting. A mindless lump of source that just stood there.


    More questions, and words that seemed not particularly insightful at the first glance. He was about to check the lines to see if there was anything else he could use to understand their meaning when the ground jolted beneath his feet. More rattling noises followed. All around him. Coming from behind, and front. Everywhere.


    His smile slowly died. Curious he might be, but he wasn¡¯t fool enough to think this mad Magus would keep sending a cadaver at a time. Already the Resonance picked quite a few of them stumbling ahead. He smoothened the side of his robe, frowning at the frequencies. He felt his bare feet grow cold, leaning against the nearest wall. He blinked to clear his mind, and decided to trail the draft onward.


    Another Fireball coated over his right hand, the burning sphere illuminating the path to aid his sound vision. The scraping of bones, the rattling of the rib cages, and that slow, sinister rasping that sounded much like a dying man¡¯s breath. Valens was intrigued, to say the least. He was also curious to have seen a wicked way to use death mana.


    ¡­


    The ground started sloping upward by the time he came across a pair of skeletons. Spitting drops of rot that hissed against the stones, rusted, worn spears clasped in their hands. Ancient warriors, then, or were once before death claimed them. They looked terribly inefficient with the way they kept swaying at each step, but those weapons gave them an edge the first skeleton lacked.


    Valens decided to take the initiative by flinging a Fireball toward them. It had done the job with the first one, and these ones didn¡¯t look much different other than their weakly fashioned weapons. As expected, the fire mana tongues lashed at them with brutal precision, worming across their bones like snakes lit by deadly fire.


    They hissed painlessly and wobbled forward. Rusted weapons hauled high. Dragging the heels of their feet stubbornly still. Then there was a spear coming at him. Coming at him fast with a burning skeleton on the other end of it.


    ¡°Oh?¡± Valens said. He stepped back, stumbled into a stone, found himself falling toward the ground, feeling the spear closing in on him faster than before. He floundered backward, the heat of his own spell splashing into his side.


    The Skeleton hissed and stabbed at him. Valens barely dodged out of the way, called for another Fireball, raised his fingers just in time for the spear to swat his palm away. Terrible pain bloomed in the Resonance, filling his head with blinding lights. Blood dribbled down the gaps of his hand, trickling warm over his skin.


    Apathy fixed the pain for him. He picked himself up off the ground, and caught the spear¡¯s tip when it made for his stomach. Caught it tight with his right hand. Tongues of fire splattered over the rusted weapon, burning the worn metal from within, slithering quickly toward the bony fingers of the cadaver.


    The other one was back on its feet. Valens saw it out of the corner of its eyes, barely looking like a corpse now. Half of its right leg was missing, shoulders draped with melted liquid of the bones that dripped down like a sickening rain. It stumbled when it made for a step, bashed into the other skeleton and they crashed into the sidewall together, arms and legs tangled in a nauseating mess.


    Valens snapped his fingers at the flailing pair. Another Fireball for the occasion. More flames seemed like the answer.


    Crack. Tap. Crack.


    They went still.


    You have managed to defeat [Skeleton - lvl 8]! For killing a creature above your own level, you are granted bonus experience.


    You have managed to defeat [Skeleton - lvl 6]! For killing a creature above your own level, you are granted bonus experience.


    You have leveled up! 5 Stat Points granted!


    You have leveled up! 5 Stat Points granted!


    Ding! [Fireball(Proficient): 2 > 3]


    Ding! [Apathy(Master): 2 > 3]


    Ding! [Mana Manipulation(Master): 3 > 4]


    Fancy that, but there were more coming from behind. He could already feel their nasty stench in his nose. Not just the rot, but something more wicked. Something dark.


    ¡­¡­.

 Chapter 4: Wicked and Absurd

    Valens turned with his bones groaning and joints cracking, already preparing another Fireball to deal with the bunch. A pair of them shambling forward. Clacking their jaws in a way that sounded like a sort of twisted laughter. Hissing through rotten teeth with their eye sockets shining painfully empty.


    It seemed this quest was physical in nature just as it was magical. Having a Magus play the warrior could be an amusing notion had the subject of it not been Valens. He¡¯d pay to see a fellow disciple of arcane have a go at a group of soldiers.


    Himself, not much.


    But he¡¯d grown accustomed to a degree of bad luck lately, and he¡¯d learned how to respond.


    He raised his head and gave them a weighing look, remembering how the last pair reacted to his spell. One of them had lost a leg to the fire while the other proved a touch more resilient, and if he had to guess it must be something about the difference between the numbers that hovered over their heads. One of them was Level 8, and the other Level 6.


    ¡°So you¡¯re helping me out by letting me know about it, eh?¡± Valens muttered. ¡°I suppose I must appreciate the gesture.¡±


    So then, these new ones were stronger. A Level 11 and a Level 10. Didn¡¯t look much different except they had fancied a pair of rusted swords rather than spears. That was good. Ask any soldier worth his training about the ancient weapons, then likely he¡¯d say a spear is a better weapon than a sword. Easier to use, for one. Had more reach and a nasty, sharp tip.


    There was one thing that made him pause. The mana well in his chest had dwindled somewhat with the use of Fireballs, and it wasn¡¯t renewing fast enough to keep up with the output. By the size of it, if he were to deplete all the source, it would take about an hour and a half for it to get back to full.


    He had to pay attention to the amount he was using for his spells, as for some reason he couldn¡¯t reach out to the ambient mana around him to replenish the source ¡ª or rather, he couldn¡¯t use the ambient mana at all. He couldn¡¯t accelerate the speed at which it spilled into his own mana source, which boggled his mind.


    That wasn¡¯t how magic worked. The notion that he was limited as to how he could use mana didn¡¯t quite sit with the fact that he had his own mana source now. What was the reason for it, exactly, when you had all the mana in the world?


    Questions for later, he presumed, as the skeleton pair came stumbling closer. He lifted the Fireball, and was about to fling it when he caught something strange in his sound vision. Resonance showed him other outlines, cadavers that followed the first pair¡­ a dozen of them.


    Trouble was, these ones seemed faster and stronger.


    That decided it. Valens turned, without giving another look to the first pair, to his back and started the other way that the draft pushed him on. Through the sloping cave, that rotten stench heavy on his back, bare feet bleeding and catching the odd sharp stone that dug painful little holes particularly round his right foot.


    He didn¡¯t have the time to stop and manage a Lifesurge to heal them both. He picked up speed, sweat dripping down his chin. His breaths came out in short, quick gasps as he tried to open up some distance with the creatures.


    The wet, slippery ground slowly gave way to a blanket of moss, covering every inch of the cave. He slipped and slid over the sticky moss, air hissing in his throat. He stumbled and nearly fell, caught a stone protruding from the wall and hauled himself back to his feet.


    He came to a skittering stop when a pair of skeletons appeared a moment after, both of them holding rusted spears in their hands. Hollowed eyes stared blankly at him for a second before they leapt and thrust at him.


    Valens jumped back. He sent a Fireball loose toward the pair of them and called for another one, doubling over when pain flared alive all over his chest. He cursed. The creatures were swaying there in his path, trying to brush the flames off from their bones, failing desperately. The Fireball was still alive, a beast of its own, stretching its tongues across the gaps of their bones.


    That was when the crowd of cadavers behind his back caught up to him. Valens gave them a cold glance, then back at the burning pair before him. He clenched his teeth as he decided to risk it. He didn¡¯t have enough mana to deal with this crowd, and he didn¡¯t know what would happen if his source depleted completely.


    He shielded his head with his left arm, running past the burning pair with his heart thumping in his chest. A bony hand tried to jerk him back, left a smoldering patch of pain round his arm when Valens managed to whisk himself free. Then he was off, a crowd of animated corpses by his tail, an endless cave stretching before him.


    You have managed to defeat [Skeleton - lvl 11]! For killing a creature above your own level, you are granted bonus experience.


    You have managed to defeat [Skeleton - lvl 9]! For killing a creature above your own level, you are granted bonus experience.


    You have leveled up! 5 Stat Points granted!


    ¡°Shit,¡± he cursed when the words appeared once again, as if mocking him. ¡°You¡¯re one sick bastard!¡±


    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    ¡­..


    Valens found an odd pocket in the cave barely wide enough to wedge himself in after dealing with a number of those skeletons. His arms and legs were covered in nicks, pain stinging dully in the back of his mind as he managed a Blockage around the mouth of the cave to block the air flowing out of the pocket.


    Ding! You have learned the Class Skill ¡®Blockage - ¡®Master¡¯. Do you want to register it in one of your skill slots?


    ¡°You¡¯re enjoying this, aren''t you?¡± he muttered with a frown when the words appeared, waving them off as one might swat away an annoying fly.


    This mad Magus was playing with him, and only burdened himself with a sentence or two to tell him about things that appeared to be obvious. Valens tried to ask him a dozen times to see if he¡¯d respond, but so far the only thing he got close to a conversation were these strange words.


    He mopped at his face and winced his way to the back wall of the pocket, sat groaning down to the mossy ground, pulling the tails of his robe over his legs against the cold. It was always cold and wet in the cave, not that he expected anything else from it.


    As far as he¡¯d seen, the cadavers reacted to his presence not just by sight alone, but also by the smell of his sweat and blood. So hopefully the Blockage would give him some time to think and breathe.


    This simple spell was often used by Wind Magi especially during their monthly sewage cleaning duties. They wrapped the currents of wind around their mouths and noses, fixing the mana threads in a tight web that acted as a sort of filter. Valens just extended the spell''s reach enough to cover the pocket.


    That done, he finally allowed himself a rest.


    It pained him that he couldn¡¯t take one of the bags they¡¯d prepared for the journey before the Inquisition''s dogs barged in. All that food, and water, and that soft, heavenly sleeping blanket. The lute he¡¯d recently purchased with the money he¡¯d saved. The key to his house in case one day they could return and go back to their lives.


    They all reminded him of one thing. Home. That was where he left his past, abandoned his Master to the claws of those bastards, left the only man he had close to a father there all alone. His friends and students in the Institute. That family with their sick daughter who¡¯d come for the second round of her remedy. The orphanage that he visited each week to make sure the kids were safe and sound. The Empire that he called home for as long as he could remember.


    Nothing but this bloody cave over his head now. He wasn¡¯t sure how he should feel about any of that.


    Apathy tingled over his mind, promising relief from his worries. Ever the useful net, managed across his emotions like a filter. It was a must-learn trick for any of the Life Magi out there. The weight of the job, his Master used to say, left them no other choice but to rely on it.


    Muting the thoughts to focus on the patients. Silencing everything in order to become a useful gear in the machine that swallowed the world as a whole that was the Empire.


    Valens smiled, but it was a crooked smile that lacked any heart. He then felt the weight of the Apathy over his mind as he lifted his robe to check his wounds.


    He quested for lifemana inside his chest, clicked his tongue at how in no time it curled around his fingers. There was too much of it in the air, unlike the scarce source he grew up with in the Empire. Here the abundance of all kinds of mana, be it the life or death, and even void mana, made him realize he was truly in a different world.


    So he worked the mana into a pair of ethereal scalpels, the Lifesurge coming to form with barely an effort from his end. Unlike the Fireball, which was a spell decisively well in the boundaries of Warmagic, a Lifesurge had no spell formula. Managed solely by a Life Magus¡¯ control over mana, these scalpels were often used to operate on any wound with perfect precision.


    Just to be sure, Valens pulled out a gemstone as well, clutching it tight in his hand. He was about to use it as a Ward to feel out the frequencies of the wounds when he paused. There was a suspicion crawling over the nape of his neck, and this seemed like a good time to test out the theory.


    Instead of using the gemstone as a Ward, a tool to track the frequencies of more delicate areas, he called for a Lifeward as one may call a spell formula out of their mind.


    The Resonance of his body screamed with scattered gaps all across his skin, outlining every nick and scratch that he¡¯d gotten through the chase, showing him how deep either one went and how serious they needed tending.


    ¡°Absurd,¡± Valens breathed out, gawking down at his bare hands. The Lifeward came to him, with such ease that he didn¡¯t know if he should feel afraid or awed.


    There was a reason why Life Magi used a Ward for any operations. Relying on the Resonance itself was technically possible for Life Archmagi, but the disciples and assistants couldn¡¯t hear the frequencies of the world without the use of a Ward. Even the Life Archmagi like Valens had the habit of using a Lifeward to make sure they were getting a clear, uninterrupted rhythm from the wound.


    But now, he could manage a Lifeward without any external help. This¡­ could change things. A lot.


    ¡°Is this you?¡± Valens then asked, when he was reminded of those words. ¡°Is this what you were meaning to say when you told me that I¡¯ve learned these skills? That I can use them without relying on anything other than my mind, anymore?¡±


    He shuddered. He must be dealing with an Archmagus here, one that had a terrible grasp over the frequencies. But how? Other than Life Magi, nobody could hear the Resonance of the world, not even the rest of the Archmagi in their respectable fields!


    Valens still remembered that one time when he managed a Gravitating Earth just for the show of it, lifting a part of the ground to patch a gap on the wall as a dozen Earth Magi watched in awe, eyes gone red with envy.


    While they had to inscribe the spell formula over the ground with conductive ink, and guide the currents of earth mana slowly, painfully as though they were carrying a delicate glass frame over the tip of their fingers, Valens had done it by simply adjusting the frequencies of the ground to fit into that particular gap.


    The rest was, well, magic. A perfectly cut block had lifted off the solid ground, and patched itself into the gap. With minute precision. He¡¯d barely shed a single drop of sweat during the process.


    But then, they didn¡¯t know much about Void Archmagi, right? Those were gone, when the First of the Magi sealed the Void. Why would he only seal that particular source while letting the other ones remain?


    That was the mystery of it. The whys and hows that many a Magus had spent years just to understand.


    ¡°Very well,¡± Valens said after a moment of silence. He understood it, now. He had to complete this trial to get those answers. He couldn¡¯t wait to meet with this fellow Archmagi of his.


    *Ding! [Lifesurge(Master) : 1 > 2]


    *Ding! [Lifeward(Master) : 1 > 2]


    ¡°Hah!¡± Valens smiled at the words, then checked the Blockage spell to make sure it was holding well. He suspected the trial would keep pushing him, and pushing him hard, so he might as well get some sleep while he had the chance.


    It came right away.


    ¡­.

 Chapter 5: Help?

    It was still dark and damp in the complex cavern system when he woke up, body stiff from the tough bed of the cave. The air reeked of rot, which could be what that Void Magus meant when he asked Valens to cleanse the Necromancer¡¯s rot.


    ¡°There has to be a source, then,¡± he muttered as he lifted the Blockage spell, and managed a Lifesurge across his body to wash the tiredness off by letting it dissolve into a wave of lifemana. That was the beauty of a Lifesurge. A scalpel that could seep under the skin without tearing it when needed and a wave of healing mana to flush the damaged area when it was dissolved.


    He felt his bones click with pleasure as he started off the sloping path.


    A cold wind across the stretch welcomed him. Valens pulled his fingers up, waiting at the ready for a Fireball in case one of those creatures came barreling down, keeping one eye on the Resonance for his sound vision to catch any minute movements ahead.


    It was another perk of being one with the Resonance, but it wasn¡¯t what the other Magi often thought as to be. The sound vision was more like a hastily sketched circular painting with Valens as the center point, its diameter approximately ten feet. Good for getting a feeling of the patients, but ultimately a far worse option for intricate wounds than Lifeward¡¯s perfect precision.


    But here, Valens used it to spread his perception, which allowed him to catch any unwanted guests before they actually showed themselves. Useful indeed as with it he didn¡¯t have to go around the cave with a Fireball burning in his hand. That saved him from a bunch of skeletons, no doubt.


    An hour into his stroll, he began to suspect as he¡¯d not yet seen any skeletons out for his life. If this was to be a trial, then perhaps he¡¯d cleared the first part and now he was moving toward the second, likely more dangerous, step. He perked up, eyes narrowing down, back stiff as a stone.


    When he turned another corner, the moss coating the cave grew lustrous and started spraying a greenish fog that hung thick in the air. Valens couldn¡¯t pick anything harmful from its frequencies other than a certain abundance of death mana. Odd that. As it seemed purposefully laid there to lash at anything decisively dead.


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t it supposed to be the opposite?¡± he muttered, slightly intrigued.


    The wind beckoned him onward, so he obliged, and stretched his right foot cautiously into the fog. He didn¡¯t know what he expected, but the fog remained indifferent against his skin, after which Valens took a big step forward.


    It was heavy in the fog. Moving through it felt like slogging knee-deep in mud. Valens considered for a moment to open a path for himself with a Gale, but decided against it when he found a skeleton flailing desperately a few paces ahead.


    ¡°A screen of fog, placed here to stave off the dead?¡± Valens arched an eyebrow at the skeleton, reaching into the Resonance to get a feel of the sight. Death mana had cuddled around the creature like a host of worms, nibbling at the foul mana resting inside of those bones, sucking it away and sending it to¡­ somewhere up the cave.


    [Skeleton: Level 8]


    It was one of the weaker ones he¡¯d come across lately, but still the way it was rooted to the ground, and wailed in gurgling, rasping cries made him pause. Why would it only target the skeleton where there was a living, breathing man inside its boundaries?


    Shaking his head, he stepped past the skeleton and moved on. He came across similar sights on the way, numerous skeletons just lying there over the ground, motionless. Dozens of them bested by the fog, their bones empty of the mana that kept them animated.


    ¡°It does feel a little different, now that I think about it,¡± Valens said. There was a certain feeling to the fog that was more intricate than the foul mana inside those skeletons. It was¡­ as if something was guiding it. Yes. An intent beyond its reaches.


    Was it the Necromancer? Valens shook the thought off. The name might be odd, but it suggested something about the dead, and he was more or less sure those skeletons were a part of the trial.


    He didn¡¯t know how long he trudged on, but at last he reached the end of the fog, air growing clearer a few paces ahead. A dozen skeletons were waiting for him. Stopping, he scowled at the creatures. They were digging the ground with their fingers, and seemed to be searching for the source of the fog that blocked their passage.


    ¡°Interesting,¡± Valens said, raising his hand. ¡°I suppose I have to clear the path. Pardon me for the heat.¡±


    He sent a Fireball into their ranks, watched the burning droplets splatter across their bones. They remained glued to their mission, refusing to look up at him even as they burned with the flames. Their hiss lacked the true pain. More like a response, Valens presumed, to being burned alive.


    You have managed to defeat [Skeleton - lvl 8]!


    You have managed to defeat [Skeleton - lvl 14]! For killing a creature above your own level, you are granted bonus experience.


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    You have leveled up! 5 Stat Points granted!


    You have managed to defeat [Skeleton - lvl 15]! For killing a creature above your own level, you are granted bonus experience.


    You have leveled up! 5 Stat Points granted!


    ¡­


    Ding! [Fireball(Proficient): 3 > 4]


    It took him three Fireballs, all of which he constantly fed with his mana, to deal with this group. One or two of them tried to make for him toward the end, but as soon as they set foot in the veil, the greenish fog coiled around their bones and nailed them to the ground where the strange mana sucked them dry.


    After the tiring effort, Valens mopped his face and checked his inner source. It seemed dealing with a dozen skeletons with active mana flow cost him about one third of his mana source. Lucky that it was renewing constantly, but for good measure he waited inside the fog to get his source up to full.


    He didn¡¯t know what horrors awaited him beyond the veil.


    Onward, he continued and passed over the burnt piles of bones. This wasn¡¯t what they expected when they started preparing for the ritual. His Master insisted a group of Magi would welcome them beyond the gate. They couldn¡¯t have been ignorant about their situation, he¡¯d said, and there had to be a reason why they¡¯d not yet come to their rescue.


    Valens doubted it. He¡¯d never been optimistic, unlike his Master, and could see the gaps in that reasoning. The old texts might¡¯ve mentioned a certain connection between the so-called nine worlds, but at no point did they talk about there being a high Magus order waiting to help any Magi in need.


    No. If there was one thing clear from the texts, it was that these worlds had remained separated from each other for too long. That, coupled with sealing of the Void, brought more doubts than hopeful musings to Valens¡¯s mind.


    Painful memories, now, gnawing at his heart. He stretched the Apathy tight over his mind and focused on the path.


    He paused when the Resonance picked up another presence along the path, this one sending a jolt of alarm down his back. It came around the corner, so strong that it rang true like a morning bell in his ears.


    And this one carried that unique note of consciousness.


    He couldn¡¯t be careless, though, not because he sensed someone alive on the path. If this was to be a trial, then chances were whatever was alive there might come at him with a spear or a sword. It could be a Magus, even, sent here to test his mastery over the spells.


    His fingers itched with nervous expectation. His knowledge about Warmagic could at best be considered shallow. Other than the Inferno, and a simple Fireball, he didn''t have the chance to learn a lot. The fault lay in the Empire¡¯s strict laws against dangerous magic, of course. Not only did they burn the old texts, they also hanged every single Magus that ever dared to venture deep into that field of magic.


    Breathing in deep, Valens decided to take a peek before making a decision. He craned his head, focusing on the Resonance as it painted a picture in his sound vision. The first thing was the greenish fog¡¯s heavy song, pressing down upon the ambient mana from behind him. Then came that note of consciousness, stark above the rest of the frequencies.


    He saw a man clad in plated armor there, fingers wrapped around a silvery, glinting sword nearly his size. A true warrior. Dangerous. Underneath the armor¡­ Valens frowned as the Resonance teetered in his mind. He was too far away to pick out intricate details, but that armor and sword alone were enough to take his chances.


    Rounding the corner, he neared the hulking figure as he kept his left hand behind his back, fingers burning with flames. Valens caught him staring at the side of the wall, to a gleaming jewel cocked deep into the stone. ¡°Hey there,¡± he said, voice cold. ¡°I¡¯m not entirely sure who you are, but I think I¡¯m lost.¡°


    The man stirred in a way a seasoned warrior would, and brought his sword up as he took a step back, huffing out a breath as the walls groaned around him. The sprinkle of light coming off from the jewel quieted as the stone sunk slowly into the wall, vanishing from the sight in mere moments.


    ¡°A lost soul?¡±  came the man¡¯s answer in a gravelly voice. He moved then, chest-plate rattling, the tip of his armored feet scraping against the ground. A greenish fog started rolling round his shoulders in waves and slithered upward, seeping into sockets of the helm where his eyes burned like two emeralds.


    Something was off. Valens felt the Resonance, but the frequencies were too strange. Twisted and mixed into each other. Alive but not quite. Not entirely dead, either. He was breathing still, but mana was coming out of his being rather than air.


    ¡°We must be kindred spirits!¡± the man growled, stepping closer, a single piece of rotten flesh dangling from his upper lip.


    Flesh. All rotten and blackened, reeking of death so terrible that bile piled in Valens¡¯s mouth. His fingers started shaking, the heat of the Fireball splashing against his back. Then came another step, and the man was standing in his sound vision.


    Bones caged underneath the metal carapace. Draped with rotten flesh oozing with pus. A giant heart-shaped stone gleamed from the left side of its chest ¡ª caged under its ribcage, thumping a strong beat.


    This was no man. This was an abomination, a monstrosity even worse than those skeletons he¡¯d faced. And it was nearing him. That sword looking painfully sharp.


    [Undead Soldier - Lvl ??]


    ¡°You¡¯ve come to the right place if you¡¯re looking for help,¡± the undead soldier hissed through yellowed teeth. ¡°But you weren¡¯t supposed to see that sphere¡ª¡°


    Something jammed into the Resonance. Hard. The frequencies of the world muddled into a nauseating mess that dinned inside Valens¡¯s mind. He doubled over with a free hand over his stomach, bile spilling through his clenched teeth, vision blurry as the world spun around him.


    ¡°Uhh,¡± came the undead¡¯s grunt, pained. The sword¡¯s tip scraped against the ground, nicked a deep vein into the earth as he stumbled toward the sidewall. He bashed his helmet, and it clanked high over the din, the metal screaming and screaming away.


    Valens flung the Fireball in haste, hoping it would patch the Resonance back. He couldn¡¯t hear anything. His ears were bleeding. His heart thumped wildly in his chest. Bones rattled and his bare feet slid across the ground.


    ¡°W-What is happening?¡± the undead¡¯s voice, sounding a deal away now, but still approaching him.


    Valens picked himself up and floundered through the path, managing another Fireball in his hand, cursing as the frequencies stabbed at his brain.


    ¡°Wait! Who are you?¡± said the creature. It was closing in on him. ¡°That was some skill there, but it doesn¡¯t make any sense. How can a young man such as yourself be Level 13, and you¡¯re even a damned Mage!¡±


    Valens dipped the Fireball down the earth, stretching the flames about the ground in a way that coated the cave. He was hoping they could keep the creature away, but it came barreling through the flames, cleaving them as easily as cutting hay.


    ¡°Stop! It was a misunderstanding!¡± it growled. ¡°I can help!¡±


    ¡­..

 Chapter 6: Strange Company

    Valens stumbled away, sweat dripping down his chin. He was already off balance, relying only on his sound-vision to find his way through the path, stones digging sharp into his feet. He twisted about and turned a corner, passed over the burnt bones and came across the gaping hole on the ground, skirting unevenly around it, breath hissing in his throat.


    I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m being chased by an animated corpse, clad in perfectly crafted plates and a giant sword! Where is the logic in that?


    The sanity was indeed in short supply as of late, as the creature still lumbered after him, armored feet pounding on the ground, sword clasped lazily in its hands. It leapt over the hole and landed clumsily to the ground, the mossy floor exploding under its feet as it kept pressing forward.


    ¡°Stop running!¡± it growled, voice thumping in Valens¡¯s ears. ¡°My bones aren¡¯t made for this. Shit! I didn''t have the time to change my legs. My legs! Stop. Running. You little shit!¡±


    ¡°Stop. Chasing me. You mad corpse!¡± Valens returned as he gave a look over his shoulder. He saw the undead jabbling onward, dragging its left foot. Beyond the visor, its emerald eyes seemed to be furious at Valens for making it work like that.


    But what did it expect? For him to present his head like some sort of prize? An animated corpse was a shock in itself, and now there was an intelligent pile of bones clad in gleaming armor coming for his life.


    He couldn¡¯t stop. Master Eldras hadn¡¯t risked a death sentence for slipping him into this world just for him to give up on this precious second chance.


    Valens focused on the apathy as he returned to the veil of greenish fog, the one he¡¯d used to handle those Skeletons digging the ground, and yet something told him that fog wouldn¡¯t be enough to stop this new abomination.


    So he decided to get creative, and focused on the spell formula. His fingers glowed with fiery tongues, fire mana responding wildly to his call. He kept the Resonance tight over his hands, letting the frequencies build slowly at the tip of his fingers. Making a move for the ceiling was too risky, and the undead seemed too heavy for wind magic to affect it.


    Fire, on the other hand, had worked on these corpses. Worked well, to Valens¡¯s experience. He just needed a bit more than a Fireball, something that would melt that armor and seep into the bones underneath.


    The air vibrated, its song blooming in Valens¡¯s head. His focus was a blink away from slipping from his hold, so he kept his eyes open and ears perked up for the frequencies around him.


    He released fiery threads from his hand as he kept scrambling away, weaving them indiscriminately over the walls around him, making sure to leash them all to the tip of his fingers with delicate focus. Some of them bounced from the undead¡¯s armor, straying toward the walls and the ground. Others brushed silently at the gauntlets, the visor, and the chestplate, the undead paying them little heed.


    Mana drained from the pool in his chest. He struggled to keep hundreds of threads alive while fueling them constantly. A good trick, a risky trick, but he was past the point of playing it safe.


    He waited for the heavy blanket of fog to lump over his shoulders before he turned, regarding the undead¡¯s emerald eyes one last time as he twisted both hands with all his worth, binding the creature¡¯s carapace with hundreds of threads.


    ¡°Not bad,¡± it growled, clearly amused as it came to a skittering stop and glanced at the fiery threads. ¡°But we don¡¯t have time to play, young man. There¡¯s been a case of¡ª¡°


    Valens sucked at his teeth. Wind mana slithered toward his hands as he prepared a Gale. The undead seemed to notice the shift around the air, trying to wriggle his way out from the threads¡¯ tight hold instead of finishing its words.


    Ding! You have learned the Class Skill ¡®Gale - Master¡¯ Do you want to register it in one of your skill slots?


    ¡°Enough with your games, you mad bastard!¡± Valens cursed, and accepted skill before he thrust his hands forward as he released the Gale. ¡°Dodge this.¡±


    Ding! The Class Skill ¡®Gale¡¯ - Master¡¯ has been registered into your skill slots.


    Remaining Class Skill Slots (4/10)


    The air exploded inside the cavern, a strong wind blasting from Valens¡¯s hands and feeding into those fiery threads. Flames roared as they spread all across the path. The undead flailed mindlessly in the thick of the firestorm, sword trying and failing to find anything material to free it from its misery.


    Ding! You have learned the Class Skill ¡®Inferno - Adept¡¯. Do you want to register it in one of your skill slots?


    Ding! The Class Skill ¡®Inferno¡¯ - Adept¡¯ has been registered into your skill slots.


    Remaining Class Skill Slots (3/10)


    Pain rose from his chest. Valens doubled over, blood trickling down through his nose. He pushed it too far, but the situation demanded everything from him. A little pain seemed an easy bargain for dealing with the threat.


    Ding! [Mana Manipulation(Master): 4 > 5]


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    Deep in the fog, he finally released all the threads from his fingers. The fire storm slowly consumed the undead¡¯s silhouette.


    Valens wheezed out a breath. His chest heaved with the lack of mana, but he refused to tear his eyes away from the creature. Those words hadn¡¯t appeared yet, which meant the undead was still alive.


    Somehow.


    His mind raced. This place was different. This world was different. His research about Warmagic had started because the deep stretches of arcane fascinated him, and it was just a stroke of luck that he came across that old text about the connected worlds. Yet he had never thought that a day would come and he would be forced to use his spells to burn skeletons and blast creatures into pieces.


    But the zest¡­ it was difficult to describe. There was something about the way the air burned with his command. A mind numbing pleasure that settled right around his chest.


    That was why his Master always said it was dangerous. Warmagic ate away one¡¯s mind.


    Valens shook his head. Pain alleviated slowly, barely a sting now that his mana pool started building up again. He floundered to his feet as the flames began to fizzle out. The resulting heat splashed to his face over and over again. Even if the spell hadn¡¯t been enough to kill the undead, it would surely do a number on the damned thing.


    ¡°Bloody¡­ Fucking¡­ Lord,¡± came the same gravelly voice.


    The ground trembled. A sword cleaved the last of the flames apart, its tip glinting painfully sharp as the undead hauled itself back to its feet. It wobbled forward, shook its head as if to gather itself, before fixing those emerald eyes to Valens.


    ¡°Are you mad?!¡± it growled, jabbing with one armored hand into Valens¡¯s face. ¡°You can¡¯t kill me! Not when the Pact is active. So why in the Nine Hells are you trying to make my life miserable when we have hundreds of Skeletons to deal with? Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re one of those bastards, thinking a deal with the Ninth Legion is beneath you humans.¡±


    Valens cocked his head to the side, eyes widening at the undead. ¡°W-What?¡± he spattered. ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°A mad Mage, and¡­ what is an Arcane Healer? Some sort of Priest?¡± the undead said, patting its chest armor to put out a particularly stubborn tongue of flame.


    The Inferno seemed to have worked, at least on its armor. The left gauntlet was a melted heap of silver, metal dripping slowly down the ground. The helmet stood strong, so did the chestpiece, but Valens could see the skeletal legs of the creature. Problem was, the cadaver hardly seemed to care about the damage.


    Then again, why would it care? It was already dead, wasn¡¯t it?


    It clacked its jaw as it continued. ¡°Look, friend, I don¡¯t know what a fucking Arcane Healer is, but you look human, and I tend to believe these sockets of mine, so I¡¯m not going to act on my gut and carve your flesh out of your bones. I suspect we¡¯re in a terrible misunderstanding, though I¡¯m not sure yet what is the reason causing it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re an animated corpse!¡± Valens responded with a jab of his finger. ¡°What misunderstanding? Clearly you want a piece of me, since I had to put down dozens of your kind on my way here!¡±


    ¡°What do you mean your kind?¡± The undead snapped its head at him, green eyes growing wide. It then banged a fist to the left wall. ¡°You bastard! How dare you take me for one of those stoneless, bone-headed lessers? I¡¯m an honored soldier of the Ninth Legion, an officer in the making! I won¡¯t take your insults if you keep acting like that!¡±


    It drove its sword deep in the ground, then unhitched the straps binding the chestpiece to its bones. Slowly, without keeping its gaze away from Valens, it removed the armor, and revealed its upper body.


    A gasp escaped Valens¡¯s mouth. He had to shade his eyes when green light burst forth from the undead¡¯s chest, shimmering from the heart-shaped stone pulsing in the left side of its chest.


    ¡°Get a good look! My Heartstone is the proof of my identity. I¡¯m not a criminal brought from its rest by some dark work! I¡¯ve earned my place in the Legion¡¯s ranks!¡±


    It snorted as it put on the chest piece once again.


    The frequencies¡­ Valens had never quite heard anything like that before. That stone had a song, hidden under the greenish lights that seemed to be of the same nature as the fog surrounding him.


    But that alone wasn¡¯t enough for him to lower his guard.


    ¡°You¡¯ve mentioned a Pact,¡± Valens said, checking his mana pool once again. He hadn¡¯t enough for a Fireball, let alone another Inferno. He had to stall this creature. ¡°Tell me, then, is this a part of the trial? Are you one of those mad Magus¡¯s minions? Did he put you up to it? What does he want from me? I don¡¯t know why he¡¯s making me suffer in this wretched, damp, rot-smelling, skeleton-infested cave!¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know anything?¡± The undead seemed to arch an unexisting eyebrow at those words. ¡°Do you really expect me to believe a Priest to suffer from amnesia?¡± It waved him off. ¡°Look, I get it. You are scared and it can get tough here under the ground with all this black magic going around, but my folks often tell me that I have considerate bones under this armor, so I¡¯ll give you a pass.


    ¡°Now, speak, how in the Nine Hells a Priest like you is here in the Broken Lands? You don¡¯t look like you¡¯re one of Zodros¡¯s people. Don¡¯t you know the Duality Guild and the Ninth Legion have claimed this Rift for the Queststone? How did you slip inside?¡±


    Valens wobbled stiffly back on his right leg, wincing slightly under the undead¡¯s heavy gaze, but he was beginning to get a little furious. ¡°First of all, I¡¯m not scared, just baffled by the notion that there are corpses talking and running in this place. And I have every damn right to be!¡± He breathed, then went on. ¡°Secondly, stop calling me a Priest! I¡¯m a Resonant Healer. And for your information, even if I¡¯d lost my memories, amnesia is a particularly difficult subject as it takes time and gentle care to nurse the mind back to its original state. It is not something you can patch over with a cloth and expect it to get the job done. We¡¯re not talking about fixing a bunch of bones here. So stop blabbering, and tell me the true reason why you blocked my path. I¡¯m getting sick of this little game!¡±


    ¡°Dear Lord¡­ A mad Priest. Great. Reckon it¡¯s fair. I¡¯ve deserved it. Anyway, Hook would crush my bones if he hears I left a Priest to die here, so I¡¯ll tell you.¡± The undead sighed out a long breath. ¡°The Pact is a simple business alright. A deal between Melton Kingdom and the Ninth Legion. When a Rift opened in the Westleaf Town, the Duality Guild made a bid for it. Now, normally you wouldn¡¯t expect a D-tier guild to try to challenge a C-tier Rift, let alone the authorities to accept their suicidal interest. They have those tiers for a reason. But the nature of the matter was different. Our Lord received a strange offer from Melton¡¯s King. He promised gold and steel in exchange for our help.¡±


    ¡°Wait. Stop,¡± Valens raised his hand. ¡°This isn¡¯t simple at all. I barely understand a thing.¡±


    The undead tipped his head. ¡°Right¡­ You forgot, eh?¡±


    ¡°I¡ª¡° Valens scratched at his stubble, feeling as helpless as a pipe clogged with the winter¡¯s ice. It didn¡¯t work. Nothing he was ever going to say would make this creature understand him. So he decided he might as well play the part. ¡°Yes. I don¡¯t remember. I¡¯m amnesiac and sick in my mind. Happy? Go ahead, speak.¡±


    ¡°You¡­¡± the undead breathed. ¡°What else do you want to know?¡±


    Valens gave it a look, and said in the manner of a stubborn student demanding the questions of the test. ¡°Everything.¡±


    ¡­.

 Chapter 7: Healing Bones

    ¡°Everything?¡± the undead repeated.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Valens said, pointing at the burnt pile of corpses before the fog. ¡°Start with these skeletons. They seemed hungry for my flesh, and you look disturbingly similar to them.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me.¡± The undead smacked his armor with incredulity. ¡°You really don¡¯t know! And I thought you a racist. Can¡¯t blame me though, now, can you? There are enough of you in Melton who hate our guts. It hurts being treated like that, but you learn to live with it.¡±


    That oddly sounded familiar to Valens. The way the Inquisition acted around the Magi, their rootmetal manacles always at the ready, eyes searching eagerly for a missed step to take one in and hang him for the crowds...


    I¡¯m getting distracted.


    He shook his head. He had to stay focused. He was talking with an intelligent corpse here, one that had a rather interesting way with words.


    ¡°I know the feeling, but as I¡¯ve said, I have no recollection of these events,¡± he said, then eyed him. ¡°It¡¯s not like you can blame me either. That sword and the armor, you don¡¯t paint a peaceful picture like that. How am I supposed to know you¡¯re not the same?¡±


    ¡°The Heartstone!¡± The undead ground its rotten teeth in frustration before it waved a hand. ¡°You know what, alright. I¡¯m calm, relaxed. Everything¡¯s under control. Just a misunderstanding. I¡¯ll think of it as a tiny little lesson for a precious Priest.¡±


    ¡°That precious Priest has a few more tricks up his sleeve if you want to test him,¡± Valens muttered.


    ¡°Oh?¡± the undead cackled once again. ¡°I admit you¡¯ve some skill to have damaged my armor with your level, but let¡¯s not get too ahead of ourselves, shall we? And what¡¯s with your level, by the way? You¡¯re what, twenty years old, twenty-one? How come you¡¯re still Level 13? How does that work?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Uh. A normal human gets a level for each birth year, no? The last I¡¯ve heard it stopped around eighteen or nineteen. So how¡¯s that possible?¡±


    Valens was taken aback. He remembered getting levels. Stats and other things. He¡¯d thought these were a part of the game that Void Magus had him play in this cave. But what this creature was saying suggested a different meaning.


    ¡°What is a level?¡± he asked with a blank face.


    ¡°You¡ª What?¡± the undead blurted out. ¡°You know what, I don¡¯t want to know what sort of sick pot you¡¯re brewing here. Whatever. Secrets and all that, keep them. The point is. There¡¯s a damned Necromancer here in this Rift, and by the look of it he really wants to get to the Haven¡¯s Reach. I have¡­¡± he paused, emerald eyes narrowing down, ¡°¡­lost my way in this maze, but I have to get back to my squad.¡±


    ¡°So, you¡¯re asking?¡±


    The undead sighed tiredly. ¡°I¡¯m saying that I can bring you back with me, but that ain¡¯t going to be free. You have magic, no? The trick you¡¯ve done just a moment ago. That was some good shit. I can take the hits, and you¡¯ll help me deal with the rest. What say you?¡±


    Valens was doubtful. ¡°Do I have any choice?¡±


    ¡°No, unless you fancy these walls.¡±


    He gave a long look at the undead, trying to discern if the creature was lying at him. Then again, it had little reason to do so, as it could easily deal with him now that Valens lacked any mana to cast a spell.


    ¡°Fine,¡± he said at last, fingers clenched around his tattered robe. ¡°I accept, but I need a rest. I can¡¯t go on like this.¡±


    The undead gave him a measured glance, then plopped down the ground with a pained grunt and patted the moss beside him. ¡°Rest, then. I¡¯ll wait.¡±


    Valens sat awkwardly a few paces away, trying not to think too much about it. His mana pool renewed slowly as he took deep breaths to calm his thoughts. He could hear the rattling and the grinding of the undead¡¯s armor. It looked like his second chance in life wasn¡¯t meant to be an easy one.


    ¡°By the way, did you just say that you can fix bones?¡± came the undead¡¯s rasping voice a while after.


    Valens cracked his lids open and glanced at it. The undead was massaging its boney legs with a curious look in its sockets.


    ¡­¡­


    Eight years of magical study. Eight years of active duty in the fields, skirmishes, battles, and a great number of other places he couldn¡¯t remember. Sixteen years of his life spent as a proud member of the arcane, and yet there hadn¡¯t been a single time that he¡¯d thought one day he would be using all those experiences on a living corpse¡¯s broken leg.


    It was so ridiculous that it started feeling funny. Valens had to rely on Apathy to not laugh in the face of the undead as it rubbed its leg painfully with the sword resting by its side. Odd that apart from that earlier outburst, it did mostly act like a petty old man with a habit of grunting instead of speaking like a normal man.


    Perhaps that is the only way it could communicate? Perhaps it can¡¯t help but grunt the words out?


    ¡°There¡¯s one thing you should know,¡± it said as Valens placed a hand over one of its bare legs. It swept a serious glance at him, eyes narrowing down.


    ¡°Speak,¡± Valens said.


    ¡°I¡¯ve not much gold,¡± the undead grunted. ¡°I know you Priests need all that money for whatever your little Gods are plotting in the backyards of your churches, and some more for recruiting fresh blood to your ranks, but I ain¡¯t got nothing. I promise I¡¯ll get you back to the surface, though, you can count on that.¡±


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    ¡°I¡¯ve changed my mind,¡± Valens said, pursing his lips at the mention of ¡®Priests.¡¯ He was no believing man, but then he wasn¡¯t entirely sure what that really meant in this world. Culture differences could be even harder to deal with than making new friends. ¡°Just stay still and keep your legs fixed. I need to get a clear picture.¡±


    He started with a Lifeward on the undead¡¯s body rather than the legs since he was genuinely curious to see its anatomy. Questions always soothed him and this right here was one big question that made little sense at first sight.


    How was the creature holding up? What sort of magic, exactly, was in play here? You couldn¡¯t pour life mana into a man whose flesh had long corroded and expect him to get his mind back. Hell, it was the first lesson they taught to all healers. There was no remedy for death.


    ¡°You smell terrible,¡± Valens mumbled as the Lifeward painted the undead¡¯s body in his sound vision, shifting to the side as it grumbled groggily and gave him a disappointed look.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t have the time to skin all the flesh. We were supposed to be off duty this week. Nobody expected a sudden call.¡±


    ¡°Skin all the flesh? What do you mean? Aren¡¯t you just¡ª¡± Valens snapped his mouth shut. The cadaver had a sensitive side about it, he forgot.


    The undead¡¯s emerald eyes clouded. ¡°Are all Priests like this? I¡¯m starting to think you¡¯re not just some miserable fool who by some chance slipped into this Rift. They dumped you, didn¡¯t they? Your Guild. They must¡¯ve had enough of that vile tongue.¡±


    ¡°And you got lost while searching for, what, exactly?¡± Valens answered, pointing a finger toward the stretching cave. ¡°You can feel the wind with these bones, right? Then you ought to have known the draft was moving through that way, not the other way around, but you were digging deeper. There has to be a purpose in that.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I felt the need of an unfortunate Priest caught in the depths?¡± the undead grunted. ¡°A lost sheep waiting to be rescued? I¡¯m pretty sensitive about these things.¡±


    ¡°Oh, are you?¡± Valens said, fixing him with a stare that made the undead flinch before shaking his head. ¡°Everybody lies.¡±


    ¡°I¡ª¡°


    ¡°Hold still,¡± Valens said, then his eyes widened at the sight of the undead¡¯s inner web.


    A sprawling, stretching mess of lines came alive in his sound vision, brimming with blood-like mana flow that nearly reached every part of its bones. Thousands of them seemingly have laid purposefully under the bone frame, fixed there like a sculpture meant for life. There on the left side of its chest was a heart-shaped stone, infinitely more durable than a human¡¯s heart, but still alive in a way that made him nearly gasp.


    There was not a single live tissue under these bones. Not even a muscle or any fat. Cleaned obsessively from inside out, save for a few patches of dangling flesh.


    ¡°Move your left leg,¡± Valens commanded the undead with a voice strict by habit, honed by thousands of hours spent ordering about wailing men in desperate need of attention. When the undead obliged, he felt the mana inside the veins constrict in a way that allowed the motion to take place. ¡°Stop,¡± he said when he caught a blockage round the lower part of the leg.


    ¡°It¡¯s bad, isn¡¯t it?¡± the undead gave a sigh.


    ¡°It is¡­ different,¡± was Valens¡¯s answer. Different, as in, it shouldn¡¯t be real. Even if he could somehow stomach the fact that this creation had veins of mana keeping it alive, he couldn¡¯t, in his integrity, outright admit that this particular corpse-turned-man had done what he¡¯d been trying to do with his mana-core idea for years.


    It had turned itself, or got turned by another master¡¯s hand, to a construct solely dependent on mana to operate. It didn¡¯t even need a source, as the Heartstone was constantly sucking ambient mana to replenish the reserves.


    An endless flow. He doesn¡¯t look aware though, and the mana has a silent quality about it inside those veins. Just like a person who can¡¯t feel the blood under his skin. It''s Natural for it, which makes it¡­ what, another lifeform?


    More data and experiment was definitely needed to come to a deeper conclusion, but for now, Valens had grasped the nature of the bones and thus could operate without further tests. He was about to send a Lifesurge to the area when the undead stirred.


    ¡°What is that look?¡± it said, eye sockets turning at him. ¡°You¡¯re looking at me as if you¡¯re about to cut me wide and peek at what''s underneath these bones. That¡¯s not how a Priest should act¡ª¡°


    ¡°I¡¯m not a Priest,¡± Valens said. ¡°I¡¯m just fascinated by the intricacies as to how your body works. Unlike those Skeletons, you have the ambient mana stirring in your core.¡±


    ¡°Uh,¡± the undead grunted. ¡°Glad that you¡¯ve begun to see the truth. Undead are a living, breathing folk. We have nothing to do with those bastards animated by a man sick in mind.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re saying that a human controls those Skeletons?¡± Valens stared down at it. Made sense. This was likely that Void Magus¡¯s doing. He then arched a contemptuous eyebrow. ¡°By the way, you¡¯re not breathing. It¡¯s true that your Heartstone has a song with a touch of intelligence, but all I can feel inside your bones is a current of mana.¡±


    ¡°You¡­ We breathe mana! How bad is that amnesia that you don¡¯t even remember these things?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s quite bad,¡± Valens lied with his expression as blank as a sheet of paper. ¡°I¡¯m a helpless, helpless man.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, right.¡± The undead didn¡¯t seem to believe him. ¡°But for some reason you still remembered you¡¯ve had a Fireball in there somewhere. What do you have to say about that?¡±


    ¡°A Magus without skills is no Magus at all. It seems however broken it was, my mind has refused to let go of those precious spells,¡± Valens said, and eyed him down. ¡°I think you should be grateful.¡±


    ¡°A cynical, arrogant prick. Color me amused,¡± the undead muttered. ¡°Can¡¯t say I¡¯m surprised, though. All through my life¡ª¡°


    ¡°Stay. Still.¡± Valens gave him a look, which put the undead nicely back to the ground with its leg stretched out. He wouldn¡¯t have the patient giving him a tirade about his life and or that how the injury happened. None of those things mattered. It had a crack in his leg, and that was a problem Valens would fix.


    Simple as that.


    When he focused on the crack around the left leg, he caught more than a few vibrations in the Resonance, coming from near the kneecap. The bone looked healthy from the outside, but inside it was filled with multiple micro-fractures.


    ¡°I think that¡¯s enough,¡± Valens said. ¡°Now, I want you to take a deep¡­ breath.¡±


    ¡°Humorous,¡± the undead said sourly.


    Valens sent a Lifesurge down the left leg, Lifeward still active and providing him with a constant song. His empty hands twanged for a second as he felt the need to reach for his tools, only to realize he didn¡¯t need them anymore. Not as much as a Ward, for that matter, when he could feel the mana in his whole being.


    It took him but a second to catch the vibrations, focusing the Lifesurge on that area. The fractures guided by invisible Lifesurge threads clicked silently back to their usual places.


    ¡°Try to move it,¡± Valens said when he was finished, taking his hands off the cadaver¡¯s warm bones.


    The undead glanced suspiciously at him. With a hesitant nod, it rose and stomped its left foot on the ground. Its emerald eyes widened slightly. ¡°Huh?¡± The air shifted around them as the undead lifted its foot again.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Valens frowned at it.


    ¡°Making sure everything¡¯s in place,¡± the undead answered, hardly paying him any heed as it brought its foot back to the ground, sending a shock wave across the cave. It snapped its head at Valens, jaw trembling.


    ¡°Nine Hells! You really fixed it!¡±


    ¡°What did you expect?¡± Valens raised his chin. ¡°Just some minor fractures. I¡¯ve dealt with worse.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you have. This trick alone can make you a fortune in the Underworld,¡± the undead nodded knowingly. ¡°Though I doubt those Bone Collectors would let you get away with it. So you have some talent to put weight into your words, then? Not a simple fellow, I see.¡±


    ¡°That makes two of us.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, right,¡± the undead cackled with twisted laughter. ¡°Get your rest. We have a long way ahead of us.¡±


    ¡­..

 Chapter 8: Information

    It was hard to track time here underground, but Valens guessed it took him about an hour and a half to get his mana pool full. Ignoring the growl of protest from his stomach, he started after the undead, trying to act as if he was in the company of a slightly larger man with a set of bones harder than an average adult. And with it serving as the vanguard, he decided he might as well use the time to go over a few things.


    Two things, specifically.


    First of all, he was beginning to suspect to a degree that things could be not what he thought they were. Whoever that Mad Magus was, the second part of this trial didn¡¯t quite make any sense. He had half the mind to ask this question to the undead, but for some reason the creature was more inclined to believe he somehow lost his mind than to consider the possibility of Valens having come here from another world.


    Guess that''s the most sensible assumption here. I didn''t tell him I came here from another world, after all.


    That made him question the alternative scenario in which he told the undead that crucial information. What would he have thought had he come across a man similar in his position back in his old world? Prior to the knowledge of connected worlds? Would he have considered the notion that he was in the presence of a totally oblivious stranger? Another lifeform that didn¡¯t belong to his world?


    Not likely. Though arcane was a depthless well, without being familiar with the intricacies of Void, it was certainly easier to treat a case like that as a matter of psychological breakdown. Amnesia, for one, definitely fitted that response.


    For now, I''ll keep that as a secret. I can''t risk it.


    The second thing was the instant conjuring of his spells. Say he was facing a Master Void Magus. Say this particular Magus had all the knowledge of the void in the world. Say he was some hermit who took a liking to playing sick games with people who had chanced their way into this world. Even then, it didn¡¯t explain how he was easing the process of casting a spell by simply using his void insights alone.


    He could weave magical words in the air with a flick of his finger, but he shouldn¡¯t have been able to affect the way Valens used his own mana. Or could he? Could it be that a Void Magus was such a terrifying existence, and that was why the First of the Magi sealed this source?


    Either way, this changed a lot. It meant that Valens was holding a spell like Inferno at his fingertips, ready to blast the cave with roaring flames at any moment. He wouldn¡¯t have to weave those threads one by one anymore. Even now, he could feel the spell burning at the edge of his mind, yearning to blast forth. He could just pick a direction and send the web sprawling over to his foes.


    Apathy, Lifesurge and Lifeward were the same. He still had to pay heed to the Resonance and find the damaged area, keeping physical contact with the patient during the process, but the moment he came up with a diagnosis and a way to fix it, he could just send a Lifesurge to do the deed instead of operating himself.


    The spell could read his mind and act upon his thoughts by itself.


    If Master Eldras could see this, he would be shocked beyond recognition. This alone would¡¯ve likely sparked a conversation between them that lasted hours and days.


    But he¡¯s not here anymore. You¡¯re alone.


    Valens shook his head. His strict education in the Institute had drilled into him the lesson that a Magus couldn¡¯t afford to be fixated on certain things. The most important thing for him right now was to keep an open mind.


    Try to understand. Try to blend in with the world and pick out the details. Then use that information to build a strong foundation upon which you could start weaving a theory.


    One such piece of information was walking in front of him right now: an animated¡ªno, an intelligent corpse who was surprisingly sensitive about racial topics. Its voice suggested that it had once been a man, and a grumbling one at that, so long as Valens kept blurting out the odd similarities between his kind and that of the skeletons.


    Still, he had to admit that however strange his new acquaintance was, he was rather glad to have found some company in the narrow passages of the cave system. That didn¡¯t mean he wasn¡¯t wary of the undead, though. If there was one thing he knew, it was that everybody lied.


    Onward, the undead guided him through the cave, tapping his left foot now and then and clicking his jaw in awe.


    ¡°I¡¯m Valens, by the way,¡± he decided to say after the long silence started getting to him. ¡°Do you have a name?¡±


    ¡°Valens, eh? That¡¯s an odd name, but simple and has a good ring to it,¡± the undead sniggered. ¡°I¡¯m Nomad. Truth be told, I don¡¯t like complex names. None of the undead do, unless you¡¯re a Lich. You have to pick a good name if you¡¯re crazy enough to become a Lich. Our Lord goes by the name Zahul¡¯ghad, though I have it on good authority that he regrets having picked that name. That¡¯s why we simply call him Lord Zahul.¡±


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    Valens paused, chest tightening. ¡°So I was right!¡± he said, raising a shaky finger to the undead¡¯s face while it gave him a perplexed look. ¡°You do have a Lord! Lord Zahul, is it? He must be a terribly strong Void Magus. I understand that he has a rather different way of communicating with all those strange words and levels and other things, but I have to admit I¡¯m quite fascinated by his expertise. And how is he,¡± - he willed for a Fireball to appear, and flames blazed alive over his fingers right away - ¡°doing this? Something about the abundance of mana in this world, I presume?¡±


    ¡°You¡ª¡° Nomad¡¯s sword nearly slipped from his hands. He barely managed a hold around its handle as he gave him a strange look. ¡°You don¡¯t remember the system, either?¡±


    ¡°The System?¡± Valens muttered. ¡°What is that?¡±


    ¡°No way,¡± Nomad muttered.


    ¡°Elaborate, if you will.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re serious?¡±


    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I be?¡± Valens asked, tapping his chin with a finger. ¡°So that was your Lord¡¯s system¡­ An odd choice of words, surely. What purpose does it serve other than to test an occasional Magus who happened to plop into his cave?¡±


    Nomad weighed him suspiciously before lowering his sword. ¡°Look,¡± he said. ¡°I can understand if you forgot even the basics, but what¡¯s with you and your strange theories? Is your mind trying to fill the gaps with some bullshit you¡¯ve picked on from here and there?¡± Nomad shook his head. ¡°And the confidence of it! Where¡¯s that coming from, exactly? Why do you look so sure about yourself as if you¡¯ve discovered a fascinating truth?¡±


    ¡°Oh, now I¡¯m the one bullshitting about certain truths, is that it?¡± Valens frowned deep into Nomad¡¯s face. ¡°It is you who didn¡¯t believe me when I told you I¡¯m in a trial. That a Magus is testing me with a Quest, and now you¡¯re telling me you have a Lord over you. So who¡¯s the amnesiac one, here, I wonder? Is it something about the lack of a brain? Is that why you can¡¯t remember any of the words you¡¯ve uttered to me?¡±


    ¡°You ¡ª Uh, you¡¯re not even close to making sense!¡± Nomad grunted heavily. ¡°There is no Void Magus here! My Lord is here because he¡¯s invited by Melton¡¯s King to aid the Duality Guild in their recently claimed Queststone. Their. Queststone. Not yours! You¡¯ve crashed into this Rift, and that¡¯s why you¡¯ve seen the Quest. Because it works like that. Once you¡¯re in the Rift, if there¡¯s an active Queststone, anyone other than the Broken Lands'' dwellers is forced to accept the quest!¡±


    A shudder ran down Valens¡¯s spine. He quested for words, to find a sensible explanation or a quick get-back to the Nomad, but he couldn¡¯t. He wasn¡¯t the one who had a hold around the ways of this world. And this undead, a mad creation he might be, knew more than him.


    ¡°And the system,¡± Nomad went on. ¡°It¡¯s just that, the way of this world. It¡¯s just there. You learn things, and it recognizes your progress. I know some folk like to think of it as some sort of god, but if you ask me, it¡¯s hardly different from the sun. It just serves its purpose.¡±


    ¡°And that is?¡± Valens¡¯s voice quivered.


    ¡°Recognition. Become good at something, and it¡¯ll give you a class. Do your job well, or simply kill things, and it gives levels and stats. Pretty simple stuff, actually,¡± Nomad answered. ¡°Though I hate to admit, I was struck with the addiction back when I¡¯d first been granted the Heartstone. You know, the common sickness. Always checking the status to keep track of the experience. It gets to your head.¡±


    ¡°Fascinating,¡± Valens said, nodding, even as he doubted whether he understood anything from that speech.


    ¡°It must¡¯ve been harder for you. It can¡¯t be easy to learn all those spells, then forget some of them even existed,¡± Nomad said, then continued after giving him a look. ¡°Lord knows you¡¯re the first Healer Mage I¡¯ve ever seen. Reckon it¡¯s only normal, though, as Hook once told me Melton Kingdom eradicated all the cults that dabbled in the healing magic back when the rule had changed. Their Gods sure don¡¯t like someone taking a piece from their cut."


    Valens snorted almost immediately. It seemed painfully similar to the situation in the Empire, where the Inquisition acted as if every Mage had an insidious potential to someday become a wicked dark magus and set everything ablaze. But, contrary to what this Melton Kingdom had done here, the Empire had unwillingly conceded to the fact that Magi were, most things considered, an indispensable part of everyday life.


    After all, who would heal the wounded whenever the Empire decided to wage a war on the basis that they were spreading the Emperor¡¯s justice all across the world? Who would build those complex machinery without the help of Earth Magi and who would, indeed, guide the storms but the Wind Magi to keep the civilization from being erased from the very earth?


    Hate them all you want, but in the end you¡¯re nothing without your Magi.


    Valens shook his head. These were all old wounds, and he had different problems right now. Or rather, questions that needed answering. That piqued the part of his academic brain like no other. Made him focus on the present. So those floating texts were a part of this thing called System. He had a few thoughts about it.


    Considering it¡¯s triggered by the initial knowledge, it must have a way to record these spell formulae without the need for tools. I wonder if it¡¯s branding them inside the mana pool? Strange. I don¡¯t feel anything when I try to cast the spells.


    He eyed the undead¡¯s armored back.


    He doesn¡¯t look like he¡¯s lying, but I don¡¯t believe him. This thing can¡¯t be just a way of this world. It can recognize the spell formula. Not only that, it can store those spell formulae as if they¡¯re veils crammed into a box fashioned for the purpose, and by the looks of it, it¡¯s not limited to this particular cave. It¡¯s everywhere in their world. How? Are Void Magi that powerful? Or is this the work of a Master as talented and terrifying as the First of the Magi? Either way, somebody has to be behind all this. What¡­ Brilliance!


    Valens was shaking his head at this revolutionary breakthrough in magical theory when Nomad raised an armored hand at him.


    ¡°We¡¯re nearing one of the core caverns,¡± Nomad growled through rotten teeth. ¡°There are dozens of those boneless bastards waiting ahead. You¡¯ve checked your status and all that, right? In case you forgot, think of the word ¡®status¡¯ or just say it to check your stats. Because things are going to get ugly.¡±


    ¡°Uh.¡± It was Valens¡¯s turn to grunt this time as he tried to shake himself off from his pondering. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll do a check on my status.¡±


    The moment he finished his words, an enormous wall of text appeared before his eyes, clouding the Undead¡¯s body with lines of words.


    Valens blinked at it.


    Magical words appeared before him. And this time, he could see everything.


    Ding!

 Chapter 9: Status

    Name: Valens Kosthal


    Age: 22


    Race: Human (Ancient)


    Class: Arcane Healer (Ancient)


    Level: 13


    Experience: 11%


    Trait: Resonance(Ancient)


    Skills (7/10):


    Lifesurge (Master) - lvl 2


    Lifeward (Master) - lvl 2


    Blockage (Master) - lvl 1


    Fireball (Proficient) - lvl 4


    Apathy (Master) - lvl 3


    Inferno (Adept) - lvl 1


    Gale (Master) - lvl 1


    Stats:


    Endurance - 10


    Vitality- 10


    Strength - 10


    Dexterity - 10


    Intelligence - 40


    Wisdom - 15


    Free Points: 60


    General Skills (3/10):


    Laran Language (Ancient) - lvl ??


    Identify(Basic)- lvl 1


    Mana Manipulation (Master) - lvl 5


    ¡°What sorcery is this!¡± Valens¡¯ breath caught in his throat when the words appeared before him. Horrified, he blinked to make sure if he¡¯d indeed seen his own name amongst them.


    Age, he could understand, as by relying on the frequencies of the world, he could, as a Resonant Healer, determine the age of his patients. He could even gauge a person''s general strength by focusing on the density of frequencies: the muscle mass and the bones framing the body underneath, the weight of a step taken, the thrum of a heartbeat. Even a slight clench of one¡¯s fingers had a song about it.


    But his name¡­


    It was there.


    Valens Kosthal.


    His first name, the only thing he had left from his parents who abandoned him to the streets. His last name, taken after Master Eldras when he rescued him from that orphanage and decided to take him as a disciple. He was barely five years old then, and he kept that surname as a secret his entire life.


    But this System, or the terrifying Magus behind it, outright disclosed his name, as if mocking him in a way to show him how small he was. This shattering creation could see through him, and tap into the knowledge nestled in the depth of his brain.


    He was a man with no secrets, now, not that he intended to keep anything from this¡­ thing. But there was a certain dread to the feeling, of being toyed and jerked around, of being told his name in the most plain way possible.


    What could he do?


    He tapped into the Resonance to feel that outside influence, that touch of void around his brain. Nothing. He could absolutely feel nothing unordinary in the Resonance other than Nomad¡¯s unique frequencies.


    There was more.


    If this thing was to be believed, and Valens sure did start believing it the moment he saw his own name, then it had gauged his intelligence and wisdom as well.


    How?


    A name, you could utter without meaning to, and it would slip through your lips. One single time, then anyone would know it.


    What about wisdom, though? Or intelligence? How could you even begin to quantify them in the first place?


    If mastery over a certain topic could be seen as a part of one¡¯s wisdom, then who could tell the depth of their wisdom with a single glance, and who could, indeed, quantify them in a way that could be reflected by simple numbers?


    What did these numbers mean, anyway?


    Valens shuddered.


    Not only that, there was a certain obscurity to one¡¯s own wisdom. Different from the primal brain, the intellectual part of the brain didn¡¯t have the tendency to make itself known without deliberate effort, which meant that most knowledge one¡¯s brain carried would often lie in a lull under the louder wavelengths of more prominent thoughts.


    Even when the intellectual part of the brain took command of one¡¯s thoughts, which happened quite often in social interactions, there was no real way to distinguish the thoughts from the general knowledge if you didn¡¯t have a Lifeward drilled into the core of your brain that could catch the minute frequencies of thousands of different nerve lines coursing through the intricate parts of your inner being.


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    That brought a curious question to Valens¡¯s mind, though. Now that Lifeward had become a skill he could use without relying on external tools, could he apply it to a patient¡¯s brain to catch those silent tremors? If so, perhaps through intensive monitoring, he could map out how the frequencies of one¡¯s mind acted in different situations.


    Is this what this System is doing? Monitoring, at all times, the brain of each person in existence to keep track of their wisdom?


    But if that was the case, what would it take to maintain such an egregious work? Worlds of mana, likely, and, if the assumption that everyone had a System in this world was true, a mind that was capable of keeping all beings in this world under strict surveillance. And, on top of that, the ability to trail all the frequencies and keep a tight control over them so whoever was behind this could let people know of their progress at all times.


    Through a trick of floating words and numbers. It certainly makes it easier to follow.


    Valens felt his mouth go dry. A shiver trickled slowly down his spine at the thought. This was beyond the means of an Archmagus. This was bordering disturbingly on the idea of an all-knowing god.


    And there¡¯s an Identify skill. Is this the reason why I can see the names of those creatures, and their levels as well? It must be tracking the frequencies of beings and fetching the name of the one that fits that particular Resonance from¡­ where? A Library? Or a vault that hosts all the frequencies of the beings that have ever existed?


    He froze as his eyes strayed down at the Free Points part. It didn¡¯t take too long for him to make the connection.


    ¡°Then there has to be a way to use these points¡­¡± he muttered absently.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Nomad said, and it was then that Valens remembered he wasn¡¯t alone in this cave. Right. He had an undead beside him, who was looking at him as if he¡¯d lost it. ¡°You just use them on the stats.¡±


    ¡°Are you saying that you can get more intelligent by giving a point to the Intelligence stat? Surely not!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not how it works.¡± The undead shrugged and trailed a finger along the side of his sword. ¡°Intelligence gives you mana, that stat, and I¡¯ve been told it has more to do with potential. Like a bowl. Yes. The bowl grows with each stat put in Intelligence, and Wisdom lets you fill it. You ought to know that as a Mage Priest. These are your main stats, after all.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Valens jabbed a finger into his face. ¡°I refuse to believe it! I have worked all my life to become a better, albeit a little dangerous, but certainly more clever, Magus! I¡¯ve earned it with my bare hands, and you can¡¯t tell me that by simply giving some magical points into a magical stat that you could do the same!¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Nomad paused. ¡°I told you it doesn¡¯t work like that. It just gives you mana¡ª¡°


    ¡°Why name it Intelligence, then? Why name it Wisdom?¡±


    ¡°How would I know?¡± Nomad ground his rotten teeth in frustration. ¡°The System has always been there. It¡¯s been there for thousands of years! If you¡¯re so desperate to seek answers, you ain¡¯t going to find them here. Not in this cave, and not under these bones.¡±


    Valens pinched the bridge of his nose after his sudden outburst. He couldn¡¯t blame the undead, but then, he couldn¡¯t help but get a little furious at this Magus as well.


    Wait¡­ Could he be considered a Magus, at all, after all this? They said the First of the Magi was akin to a God, a Magus who could summon Meteors and crush the whole world if he wished to do so. A terrifying existence that could force his will across nature. All the more reason why it baffled Valens and his Master that he decided to seal the void.


    Chances were, a similar person was at work here. A Magus who was close to the notion of an omniscient God. In other words, the First of the Magi equivalent of this world.


    ¡°I will try it,¡± Valens said at length, drawing a shivering breath. ¡°I will see it for myself!¡±


    ¡°You can do it as long as you stop shouting like you¡¯ve gone mad.¡±


    Valens scowled. He was going to do it all right, but¡­


    ¡°How do I do it?¡± he asked. ¡°How can I give a free point into the Intelligence stat?¡±


    Nomad, much to his credit, seemed to have expected the question, as he tapped an armored finger to his helm. ¡°Make a wish, and it¡¯ll come true.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Just think of giving a point in that stat,¡± Nomad sniggered. ¡°Think about the amount you wanted to give, and then ask the System to do it.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Valens nodded. ¡°Simple as that.¡±


    ¡°Simple as that.¡±


    He began thinking about giving a single point to the Intelligence stat, but not before he managed a Lifeward across his body. He wanted to see if it would do anything to his being. Just like an experiment before making a decision he couldn¡¯t get back. That was about how he went with most things.


    A second later he was staring at the Intelligence stat with narrowed eyes.


    Intelligence - 41


    He barely felt a difference other than a slight poke at his chest. From within. That was the interesting part. It was as though a tiny little baby had jabbed him from within by his heart with a tiny little pinkie. He felt the touch around his chest cavity, underneath his ribcage. He tried to trail it with the Lifeward, only to pause.


    There was nothing there. Nothing, as in, he couldn¡¯t see through his chest cavity at all. His heart, his ribcage, his lungs, and the frequencies belonging to them were clear in the Resonance, but his chest cavity was one dark blank that lacked any song.


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t make any sense. I should be able to see it,¡± he muttered, caring little whether Nomad heard him or not. He had more immediate questions needing answering to give a damn about some undead¡¯s curiosity.


    Another point to the Intelligence stat. That seemed like the only way to be sure of it. Then another. It was by the time he had dumped a whole ten stat points to the Intelligence that Valens started feeling a real change.


    But this change didn¡¯t happen where he expected. His chest cavity still remained a complete blank, but a stream of mana poured from inside of it, as if it suddenly materialized out of nowhere, and spilled into the mana source by his heart. Crashed into the still river of mana like a big block of ice.


    Once there, it dissolved into specks of mana and stirred the river in action. Multiple waves rose from its depths, as high as the roof of his inner core, sloshing against the invisible boundaries with stubborn devotion. Valens watched, heart beating in his throat, as his full mana river carved an extra inch out of his body before going still, the waves easing slowly down and filling out into the newly opened space.


    He waited for all the frequencies to calm to lay an ear over the Resonance. The wavelengths of his mana river seemed to have gained an almost joyous appreciation for being strengthened by additional sources.


    It grew.


    The mana source in his chest, the only way to cast his spells in this world, grew by an extra inch! If he had to make an assumption, ten points in Intelligence stat have given him about a five percent extra source.


    Fingers blazed alive as he called for the Inferno, tongues of fire sprawling over him and sending a splash of heat across the ground.


    ¡°Have you really gone mad?¡± Nomad stepped back, one hand raised over his helm, the other clasping the sword tight. ¡°We¡¯re in a narrow stretch! You¡¯re going to burn¡ª¡°


    ¡°Just a test,¡± Valens waved him off. ¡°I have to see it for myself.¡±


    The change was slight, but noticeable. The sprawling waves of the Inferno had a different quality to them now. Just like how his inner source got an extra inch, the flames seemed to have gained a certain depth as well.


    Their frequencies danced across the Resonance as Valens jerked the storm this way or that, feeling its heat by the tips of his fingers, watching how their crimson color reflected over the jagged walls of the cave.


    The spell had grown strong. There was little doubt about it. But he frowned when the mana he was using for the spell wasn¡¯t being replenished as fast as it used to. It was slower than before.


    Likely since the source has grown wider.


    ¡°So that was what you meant when you gave me your clever bowl metaphor.¡± Valens nodded as he eyed the Wisdom stat while letting the Inferno dissolve into burning specks of embers. ¡°Then, I can just pour some stats into the Wisdom to keep the renewing rate the same, right?¡±


    Right. Such insidious simplicity that his skin crawled just when he thought what this thing could lead to. He could have a sea of mana inside his chest in the future, and set the whole world ablaze. Or, as his Healer side would suggest, heal all the sick in the world with a trick of his fingers.


    ¡°This shouldn¡¯t be legal,¡± he said to Nomad, who shrugged at him. ¡°I wonder how Strength, Endurance, and Dexterity work?¡±


    He would have to take a look at them, too.


    ¡­.

 Chapter 10: Action

    According to modern magical theory, which conflicted in many points with the way of the Magi of old, though mana was a natural resource born with the dawn of the universe, it existed in a different wavelength that was decisively difficult to perceive, which gave it a quality fundamentally distinct from that of the air. So while each breath a person could inhale air and the different elements mixed within it, mana refused to be moved with basic suction of gravity and the likes.


    When forced into the body without the guidance of a Life Magus, on the other hand, it became highly unstable and harmed whatever tissue it came into contact with.


    Therefore, the common understanding suggested that mana was never meant to be held captive in one¡¯s body. Human anatomy just didn¡¯t have the capacity nor the affinity to handle such a miraculous source. It could only be guided by tools and complex spell formulae.


    This theory, of course, had been proved baseless through the discreet research Valens and his Master had pursued for the last few months, which focused mostly on the old texts sourced from a well-preserved chest found under the depths of the Black Sea by some pirates. Getting it had cost Valens the greater part of his wealth.


    Even though they were full of undecipherable symbols and lore about the olden times, Valens could still remember that the ancient Magi had, in fact, steady mana sources resting inside their bodies. Still, there was nothing suggesting that ancient Magi could absorb mana into their veins and change the very fabric of their beings..


    But in this strange world the System did just that. Or rather here, Valens theorized, mana itself rested in a wavelength closer to that of the human brain which allowed this all-seeing and all-knowing being, or whatever was behind the System, to manipulate the relation between the frequencies through a screen accessible but with a thought.


    When asked in a roundabout way, Nomad made it clear he had no idea of the songs or the tunes of the mana. To him, becoming strong by putting a point in a stat was simply common sense, a deed done without any awareness of the Resonance. He did say it was something about the mana you¡¯d gained through killing beasts or performing tasks that aligned with your own class, but he wasn¡¯t particularly knowledgeable about the reasons behind this strange tradition.


    It was a kind of ignorant acceptance, but Valens could understand where he was coming from. There was a reason why most of the Magi leashed under the Empire¡¯s strict laws never bothered to perform dangerous experiments like Valens anymore. It wasn¡¯t just because they were afraid, most of them scarcely felt a need for it.


    With Wisdom, he found that he could indeed accelerate the rate at which his inner mana source renewed, but since his Intelligent stat boosted the amount of mana he could hold in his core, he had to balance it out with sufficient points in Wisdom to keep the renewal rate the same.


    On that front, a simple experiment with stat points showed that for every two points in Intelligence, he had to put a point in Wisdom to keep the renewal rate the same. Another strange thing was that past a certain point, the acceleration rate supplied by more Wisdom stats diminished slowly, which suggested that there was a limit to how fast the renewal rate could get.


    From the trickle of mana that¡¯s ever-supplying my core, it seems like an hour is the maximum I¡¯ll ever get, which will come about when I get a 2-1 ratio in the Intelligence and Wisdom pair.


    The other stats intrigued him, especially Dexterity which gave him a sense of lightness around his feet. Each point of Dexterity added a slight note to his muscles, fibers, tendons, and ligaments. Valens even heard the harmony of his bone frame being adjusted with a new set of frequencies.


    Vitality and Endurance worked more or less the same, the former bolstering the blood flow and the latter shaping the bone frame and the muscles in a different way. From this alone Valens could see the importance of being educated before making a random distribution of stats.


    There was a good chance of messing the foundation of one¡¯s bones with dumping stats on Endurance and Dexterity both. The two likely had points of alignment between them, establishing another delicate balance, but the price of disturbing this balance would probably come with more grave results than that of the Wisdom-Intelligence pair.


    In the end, Valens favored the parts where his strengths lay, opting for the Wisdom and Intelligence stats after he completed his experiments. The allure was too much for him to ignore.


    I have too many things to go over if we can get out of this place.


    Done with the distribution, he lent an ear to the grand waves of his inner mana source and nodded in satisfaction before checking his status.


    Name: Valens Kosthal


    Age: 22


    Race: Human (Ancient)


    Class: Arcane Healer (Ancient)


    Level: 13


    Experience: 11%


    Trait: Resonance(Ancient)


    Skills (7/10):


    Lifesurge (Master) - lvl 2


    Lifeward (Master) - lvl 2


    Blockage (Master) - lvl 1


    Fireball (Proficient) - lvl 4


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    Apathy (Master) - lvl 4


    Inferno (Adept) - lvl 1


    Gale (Master) - lvl 1


    Stats:


    Endurance - 12


    Vitality- 13


    Strength - 15


    Dexterity - 15


    Intelligence - 70


    Wisdom - 30


    Free Points: 0


    General Skills (3/10):


    Laran Language (Ancient) - lvl ??


    Identify(Basic)- lvl 1


    Mana Manipulation (Master) - lvl 5


    ¡°We need to move,¡± Nomad said when Valens finished distributing his stats, mind fuzzy with all the details. ¡°You¡­ can move, right? You don¡¯t look good.¡±


    Valens swallowed. There was still a lot he couldn¡¯t understand from just looking at this screen alone, namely the class, race and other parts, but the Nomad¡¯s burning eyes had a urgency about them that he decided to postpone the questions to a later date. ¡°I¡¯m fine, thanks. It¡¯s just too much to wrap my head around, but I will manage.¡±


    ¡°Good, because I need those flames,¡± Nomad said, adjusting his helmet with a click. He hauled his sword over his shoulder, and lifted an armored hand toward the windy cave that lay ahead. ¡°We¡¯re about to pass through one of the core caves. I reckon there¡¯s at least a hundred skeletons there waiting for us, but this deep, we don¡¯t have to worry about their levels.¡±


    ¡°A hundred of them?¡± Valens arched an eyebrow at him. He weighed Nomad up and down as he considered the concept of levels. He was a level 13 Arcane Healer, which he had to admit was a simple representation of his abilities as he much rather preferred the title of Resonant Healer, but he didn¡¯t know and couldn¡¯t see the level of his new companion. ¡°What¡¯s your level?¡±


    Nomad tilted his head and snorted out a contemptuous breath. ¡°96. Just a little stretch before my first Trial.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ a lot, isn¡¯t it?¡± Valens asked as his lips parted slightly. If he was getting 5 stats at each level, then that meant Nomad must¡¯ve invested hundreds of points into his stats by now, which then meant he was a terrible, terrible force to be reckoned with. ¡°Are you sure you can¡¯t deal with them alone?¡±


    ¡°I could,¡± Nomad said with a straight voice, clearly stating a simple truth. ¡°But even a bunch of ants could beat a wasp, eh? Better to have some safety over your bones than to dive straight into the depths. That¡¯s what I reckon.¡±


    ¡°Makes sense,¡± Valens nodded, tensing. It wasn¡¯t the matter of the skeletons that bothered him so much as the amount of mana he could store in his core. If he were to spend all his mana and the animated corpses still kept coming at him, then that wouldn¡¯t be charming. ¡°What I get from your words is that you¡¯re going to act as a meat shield, is that it?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve not much meat under these bones, but I¡¯ll try,¡± Nomad sneered with a rotten, rasping breath. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯ll keep your soft hands clean of any rot. The undead are used to doing the dirty work of you humans. And you have the range with your skills, you can just manage that firestorm from over the din.¡±


    Valens pondered over it for a second, then shrugged as it seemed Nomad was sincere in his words.


    He¡¯s the local one, if you can call him that.


    ¡°Alright. We move.¡± Nomad gave him a last look, and started toward the edge of the cave. Valens followed after him.


    ¡­¡­


    They passed the last stretch without coming across as much as a single skeleton before the path narrowed down, and split into two ways. The left one slithered slowly down the ground, while the other ended with a sharp fall to the main cave ahead.


    Valens risked a glance at the sight below, then scowled deeply at the scene where dozens of skeletons just milled about as though a group of senseless slaves. Now and then some of them stirred, ribcages rattling, the rusted weapons scraping against the ground, but they never moved further than a step.


    ¡°That¡¯s our path to above,¡± Nomad said, jerking a finger to the opening over at the opposite side of the cave. Valens nearly missed it since the skeletons blocked the entrance with their rotten bodies.


    Somebody has placed them here to guard that path.


    ¡°It¡¯s the Necromancer, isn¡¯t it?¡± Valens asked. ¡°He¡¯s controlling these beasts.¡±


    Nomad looked at him as if asking if there was a reason why he decided to state the obvious now, but nodded either way. ¡°This Rift is one giant maze and it¡¯s full of holes that stretch down to the depths of the Broken Lands. You don¡¯t want to fall into them, trust me.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡± Valens asked. A Magus without a detailed plan was no different than a bird without its wings. You can never be too sure about these things, especially since it involved a group of animated corpses.


    ¡°The plan?¡± Nomad gave him a side-eyed glance. ¡°I¡¯ve told you. You stay here, and I¡ª¡°


    ¡°You?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll move.¡±


    ¡°Wait¡ªstop!¡± Valens tried to say, but Nomad had already launched himself into the emptiness below, falling toward what seemed like a sea of skeletons waiting senselessly in a wide opening.


    Valens found himself standing there with a hand stretched out, eyes widened as Nomad crashed down into the dirt, a boulder of silvery metal denting the earth with great force. He brought his sword up in a brutal swing that caught more than a few animated corpses, splintering bones, cracking skulls and kicking them spinning for good measure.


    This guy is such a bonehead!


    It took a moment of lull for the skeletons to register the sudden intrusion to their ranks. A moment and half a dozen of their kin. After the initial shock, dozens lunged from their ranks for the towering undead with cold fury, all hissing through rotten teeth.


    Some tried to bite chunks out of his armor, others clutched their fingers tight around his boney legs, and dragged him in their ranks while Nomad grunted and twirled his sword round himself, the metal carving a smooth path through the sea of bones.


    His emerald eyes glinted with pleasure as he lurched out a step and came out swinging from the pile, swatted a hand reaching for the weapon¡¯s handle with its pummel and drove it grinding into the Skeleton¡¯s chest.


    Then he stumbled back on his heels, trying to shake off the skeletons grabbing at the back of his plate, at his heels, at the side of his neck. Alone, it seemed none of these creatures could ever hope to lay a finger on him, but they did a good job with their numbers at flooding him.


    There are just too many of them.


    Everything below his neck got covered in sickly, yellowish bones, Skeletons pressing into him from all around, trying to drown him with their maddened rush. For a second it seemed they would succeed before Nomad let out a roar and threw himself away from the pile, rolling out the way and floundering back to his feet with sword at the ready.


    Valens wasn¡¯t sure if the undead could sweat, but he had a pretty good idea as to what sort of demons were ringing in his head as he regarded the endless horde that sprawled before him.


    It seemed a painfully pointless affair to go against these bunch when you watch some of the half-ripped Skeletons crawl back to their feet.


    Then Nomad made a gesture with his hand at Valens, right index finger drawing a circle in the air, before he broke into a run. It was him and the sea of Skeletons down below the cave, the former cackling madly as it let the latter trail him behind his back. Now and then he let out a howl, stopped to crush a stray one with his armored feet and continued on, hardly affected by the pressure.


    What do you want me to do?


    For a brief second, Valens considered his options. Nomad was dragging the horde of Skeletons behind his back, and from this high up the cave, Valens could, in theory, rain the Inferno down without as much as letting a speck of dirt on his robe. It seemed a wiser option than having himself surrounded by that bunch, no doubt.


    Might as well get on with it. I¡¯m sure he won¡¯t blame me if I accidentally burn him as well.


    ¡­..

 Chapter 11: Stray Souls

    Tongues of fire sprawled down through the cave in heated momentum, threads of fiery mana merging into a giant maw that made for the crowd of skeletons. It swallowed half of the flood and coughed out piles of burnt bones all across the opening. Furious flames roared in the Skeleton ranks. They leapt from one bone to another, set them aflame and slithered down to suck at the foul mana keeping the corpses animated.


    Another wave splashed on the ground and stretched in a fiery blanket to lash round the Skeletons'' feet. Bones melted, and a dozen of the creatures plopped down and started clawing at the earth, still trying to crawl toward the undead out in the front, refusing to die out.


    ¡°Ouch!¡± Nomad yelped as he caught some stray darts in his passing. His chest piece burned with a darkish blaze, draped with a half-melted liquid that glinted silver. Even then the tip of his sword blasted skulls and rib cages alike, eyes widening with what Valens thought as wicked pleasure.


    And so, the world burned with glorious flames.


    Valens found himself caught in a moment of deep contemplation facing this sickening picture of scorched earth and melted bones. Of elements reaping souls no longer existed. Of Warmagic showing its real face to him.


    The drain from his mana pool seemed so little a price against the devastation he unleashed in a moment. He thought, with no deliberate purpose, of a different scenario in which his own people replaced the animated corpses below. The Inquisition and its dogs. The paranoid fools and their masters. Men who knew so little about magic, but feared it all the same just because they¡¯d grown listening to a bunch of stories.


    What would they have thought of him had they seen this scene? Certainly it would add to the claims raised against him as a dabbler of forbidden magic. He was beyond that line, now, having cast more than a few spells destructive in nature by his own hand, but then, there were no such lines in this world. None that he was aware of, at least.


    His fingers dulled around where the fiery threads stretched forth. The numbness spread across his arms, and down his chest where it burned a painful song. Still, he pulled them high and directed the Inferno toward the running undead, washing the ranks of Skeletons still hot on his tail.


    You have managed to defeat [Skeleton - lvl 16]! For killing a creature above your own level, you are granted bonus experience.


    You have leveled up! 5 Stat Points granted!


    You have managed to defeat [Skeleton - lvl 15]! For killing a creature above your own level, you are granted bonus experience.


    You have leveled up! 5 Stat Points granted!


    You have managed to defeat [Skeleton - lvl 18]! For killing a creature above your own level, you are granted bonus experience.


    You have managed to defeat [Skeleton - lvl 17]! For killing a creature above your own level, you are granted bonus experience.


    You have managed to defeat [Skeleton - lvl 19]! For killing a creature above your own level, you are granted bonus experience.


    You have leveled up! 5 Stat Points granted!


    You have leveled up! 5 Stat Points granted!


    Ding! [Mana Manipulation(Master): 5 > 6]


    Ding! [Mana Manipulation(Master): 6 > 7]


    Ding! [Apathy(Master) : 3 > 4]


    Ding! [Inferno(Adept): 1 > 2]


    There was no end to the walls of text clouding his vision. Each time he felt a curious wave of warmth wash over him, a sort of blanket that was invisible to the eye, yet unmistakable there.


    More. I need more!


    He relished the feeling even as he guided the Inferno. Found himself smiling for a reason he couldn¡¯t quite comprehend. Was there really a purpose to the Warmagic, this forbidden practice of sorcery that Magi of old used without any restraint? Did they see it as Warmagic at all?


    Perhaps there had been truly a sensible reason as to why the First of the Magi decided to create something so vile like a rootmetal. It could be dangerous in the hands of the wrong people. It could be a terrible power through which one could force one¡¯s own rule over the crowds.


    Without it? The Magi were no different than overqualified workers wasting their years of education and deep talent for, what, exactly?


    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    It eats away the mind.


    Valens shuddered. His mind had begun straying toward dangerous thoughts. Sinister thoughts. Thoughts that¡¯d long since churned in his head after he witnessed the truth of his old world. He¡¯d been nothing but a slave, back there.


    He paused when it sounded like some movement right around his feet.


    Gravels rained down from the pocket in which he stood as he cast a curious glance at the sudden tremor. Just below the edge, a few inches away from the place, a yellowish, bony hand was scraping against the wall as a Skeleton tried to pull itself up toward him.


    Valens reached out to the Resonance and caught a fiery tongue amongst the burning storm. The maddened rush of the frequencies belonging to that single thread of fire quieted under his touch. It became as tame as a newborn pup, waiting eagerly to be directed by the one who called out to it.


    With a flick of his fingers he commanded that tongue to lash against the climbing Skeleton from the back. It clacked through the air, and crashed into the bones. The Skeleton let out a painless hiss through its teeth, hands stopping just for a second before it continued its climb.


    Scowling, Valens kept his control over the Resonance active and raised the same hand. The thread of fire responded. It coiled through and around the Skeleton¡¯s ribcage, and tightened hard.


    The Skeleton stopped.


    Valens jerked his hand back.


    The ribcage of the animated corpse exploded into a shower of splinters, bones raining, the empty fury in the Skeleton¡¯s eyes fading as it dropped down into the firestorm.


    You have managed to defeat [Skeleton - lvl 20]! For killing a creature above your own level, you are granted bonus experience.


    You have leveled up! 5 Stat Points granted!


    Valens waved off the following wall of text and wavered on the tip of his feet as the Inferno threatened to grow out of his control.


    Uh¡­ A bit dangerous there. The Apathy is slipping.


    He shook himself off. With a scornful gaze, he glared down upon the blazing storm as he wrenched back the control, leashing the fiery threads to the tip of his fingers. Their resistance proved futile. Those mindless threads might as well be trying to fight against the sun itself from how quickly they dissolved into Valens¡¯s hold.


    His chest burned in response, the drain to the mana multiplying as a price of his momentary loss of focus. Still, Valens had a few more seconds worth of source inside his chest. A look at the now diminished flood of Skeletons scrambling after Nomad showed him that it should be enough.


    Seconds crawled past as Valens kept the Inferno roaring down below. There in the scorched opening now stood a mere half a dozen Skeletons facing Nomad, these ones clad in rusted plates and carried in their hands different weapons fashioned from what seemed like a mix between bones and rusted metal.


    Valens arched an eyebrow at them, slightly surprised that they had managed to survive the storm. Granted, it was clear the fiery tongues had found purchase in their rusted plates, melted into the bones underneath and left a great deal of burnt marks all over their bodies, but they somehow remained on their feet.


    And their fury seemed to be solely focused on Nomad.


    ¡°Cut your flames,¡± came Nomad¡¯s voice, rasping about the cave. He clutched his sword with both hands and raised it before his chest, as a knight might raise his weapon before royal company. He gave a look at Valens. ¡°I shall cleanse this filth by myself.¡±


    Valens had to admit to being a little spent managing the Inferno through the throng of Skeletons, so when Nomad gave him a pass he let it dissolve into several burning lights. He then cast his gaze down below, curious as to see why Nomad wanted to deal with these personally. There was something unsettling in the way his demeanor had changed facing this last group of Skeletons.


    [Skeleton Soldier - level ??]


    [Skeleton Soldier - level ??]


    Valens frowned when he focused on them. Different from the others, these creatures carried the name soldier, which reminded Valens of Nomad¡¯s title. He was an Undead Soldier, and had said he was a proud member of the Legion.


    Is there a connection between the two? Or this is just a sign of respect for a fellow warrior doomed with a terrible fate?


    The answer eluded him, and instead brought more questions to his mind about the origin of these unnatural creatures. Valens had little idea about the difference between the Skeletons and the Undead other than the fact that the former had been roused from death by a Necromancer ¡ª a most terrible Magus who could supposedly hold sway over death.


    So then, who forged the Undead and granted the Heartstone that gave life different than the skeletons to Nomad¡¯s kin? He¡¯d mentioned the Liches, their Lords in the world below. Perhaps they had something special of their own that could bend the mana in a different way.


    There are way too many questions, many things I have to understand.


    The strong curiosity he carried his whole life about mysteries of the world sent a jolt of thrill down Valens¡¯s spine, its frequencies music to his ears. He felt at that moment a desperate yearning for more, and the only way to come close to satiate this need was to first get out of this place.


    Metal cried a pained shriek down in the opening, waking Valens from his thoughts. Nomad was deep in the group of Skeleton Soldiers, moving through the chaos with such deftness that showed how great a difference in skill they had between them


    His sword found purchase right where Valens least expected, catching one Skeleton Soldier from its collarbone, and impaling it to another¡¯s back before sending them both sprawling over the other two. In and out, it never took him more than a second between the maneuvers.


    He¡¯s making a fool of those soldiers.


    The Lightbringers of the Empire had had such Knights in their ranks in olden times. Valens had seen their duels in the spring festivals, their golden plates and giant swords being displayed in a flash of brilliance to win the hearts of the crowd. It was a mere tribute nowadays, but still spoke to the strength of their brotherhood when the world was governed by Warmagic and ancient weapons.


    Nomad¡¯s swordsmanship reminded him of them. Though his hold carried the heaviness of respect being shown to his foes, displayed by how he refused to make a move for their heads.


    It took him a long minute to deal with them all, after which he lined the now lifeless bodies of the Skeleton Soldiers before him and stabbed his sword to the ground. An air of sorrow seemed to coat him, his emerald eyes lacking that mischievous glint when faced with Valens.


    In the end, he gave a hearty sigh and looked up to Valens. ¡°Help me dig a ditch. These men have served their sentence. They now belong to Mother Earth''s warm hands.¡±


    Valens nodded without hesitation. He didn¡¯t know why, but he felt with deep certainty that it wasn¡¯t the time to question Nomad¡¯s request. He just had to do as he was told.


    ¡­¡­

 Chapter 12: Nature of Things

    Grey walls, cold wind on his back, and Valens kept tailing Nomad, chest aching still. Their steps squelched in the puddle coating over the mossy ground. The sounds bounced back and back again. Nothing, it seemed, lived here deep in the ground. Nothing but bones and the poor moss, that is.


    Nomad wasn¡¯t certainly helping with that. Valens watched him gazing absently at the pommel of his sword. Questions there, questions here, and questions still. He was rather sick with them lately, but curious too. A delicate balance. Nothing quite as fascinating for a Magus.


    ¡°I could use some time after all of that,¡± Valens said, feeling the burn of his dwindled mana pool in his chest. ¡°Set a fire perhaps? Some warmth would be nice.¡±


    ¡°Some warmth?¡± Nomad rasped with his gravelly voice, turning and giving him a glance that didn¡¯t quite look right. ¡°Folks tend to use fire for more grander things up there. For grave things. Their¡¯s a sick way of punishing people. Some bloody deed, if you¡¯d asked me.¡±


    ¡°I would, but I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about.¡±


    ¡°Memories,¡± Nomad grunted and turned round, waving a hand at an invisible fly before his face. ¡°What good they do, anyway? I have a couple of them. Some make me sick. Others remind me of times long past. I reckon you could do without them. Cast them away and you¡¯re born anew. That¡¯s a way to look at it.¡±


    ¡°You get them still, no?¡± Valens argued. ¡°Everything¡¯s a memory. There¡¯s no escaping them to my knowledge.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m saying. Shackles and dead weight in your brain. That¡¯s what they seem to be. Mines are a little rusty, a bit twisted, but you¡¯re not supposed to remember the times of old. Back when you¡¯re still alive, I mean. Makes it a whole bloody complicated.¡±


    ¡°You can remember?¡± Valens asked. He wasn¡¯t sure about how the memories of an undead worked, but then, he wasn¡¯t sure how they could still walk and talk, at all. Another mystery there.


    Noted.


    ¡°Bits and pieces,¡± Nomad muttered, looking at his sword. ¡°There¡¯s a reason why they burn good men in the world above. Eternal rest, they call it. Every bit of your body returns to Mother Nature''s embrace. Others, they bury deep in the ground. Not the Priests, though. Those bastards think they¡¯re too good for that.¡±


    Valens eyed Nomad, then glanced back the way they came. ¡°That¡¯s why we buried them? I thought¡ª¡°


    ¡°It was too late for that.¡± Nomad shook his head. ¡°I¡¯d given them a soldier¡¯s death, and that¡¯s plenty enough mercy for that lot. It¡¯s the cycle, though, that angers me so. Don¡¯t tell people about this. An undead¡¯s talking about death like it''s some sort of mystery, that¡¯s not common around here or in the Underworld. Not common at all.¡±


    ¡°How does it work?¡± Valens asked. ¡°I mean the rousing. You¡¯ve mentioned a Necromancer does the deed with those skeletons. What about the Undead?¡±


    Nomad gave him a side-eyed glance, followed by a tired sigh. For a moment Valens thought he would wave him off, but surprisingly he turned and tapped a finger to the left side of his chestpiece. A deep, thrumming set of frequencies bloomed in Valens¡¯s mind.


    ¡°It¡¯s a matter of choice, really,¡± Nomad said solemnly. ¡°A choice you¡¯d make right when you feel death creeps closer, or a written will can do the job if you¡¯re smitten with a profession that carries a good deal of risk. They bury you with your heart in place so that the Forgemasters can use that to craft a Heartstone.¡±


    ¡°But you don¡¯t remember anything? Or you shouldn¡¯t¡­ Why, though? No offence, but that doesn¡¯t strike me as a good second chance. It comes with a whole different set of problems.¡±


    ¡°It does, but Eternal War demands a certain sacrifice from us all. Or who would keep the demons shackled in the arse hole of the world?¡± Nomad cracked a smile at his own words. ¡°Nasty bastards, those bunch. I don¡¯t reckon the world above has the stomach to handle them.¡±


    Valens tried hard, but a sigh parted his lips. He could hardly feel surprised anymore. ¡°That¡¯s a little too much fighting, don¡¯t you think? I come from a place of false peace and shady plots. Scarcely you¡¯d see people having a go at each other in the open fields, not unless you need some money to be about, that is.¡±


    Nomad was silent for a moment, then tilted his head. ¡°People do worse things for money. Not the demons, though, that¡¯s not how Tainted Father does his business. He¡¯s not after some good coin, alright. No, what he seeks are other things, dark things. That¡¯s why he creeps on you when you least expect it, finds you right when you¡¯re at your worst.¡±


    ¡°Interesting,¡± Valens muttered, then shook his head at Nomad. ¡°So that¡¯s what you do when you¡¯re not around? Fight with the demons, eh?¡±


    Whatever that really means.


    ¡°More or less,¡± Nomad nodded. ¡°We don¡¯t actually care about your world here. That¡¯s your responsibility. If it''s a matter of Necromancy, though, that changes things. Then it becomes a matter of pride. Can¡¯t let some twisted fool spoil the reputation of the dead and play with men who laid to their rest with the promise of eternal glory like toys. The others? I don¡¯t care for them. Criminals¡­ deserve that.¡±


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    ¡°You¡¯ve mentioned a deal with Melton''s King, though. Some coin and silver was promised, if I¡¯m not mistaken?¡±


    ¡°Oh, those are always helpful,¡± Nomad grinned. ¡°The Legion needs resources just like anyone in this world.¡±


    Valens nodded, mind fuzzy with all this new information.


    So there¡¯s a difference between skeletons too. The soldiers Nomad faced¡­ They should¡¯ve been roused as Undead to fight in this Eternal War, but instead this Necromancer resurrected them against their will.


    It was a lot to take, Valens had to admit. He was still new to magic being everywhere in the world. Back in the Empire, even the sight of a single animated corpse would¡¯ve sent the Inquisition in a craze, one that likely would have resulted in Magi paying the ultimate price.


    Here, it seemed it was an everyday occurrence. A mere choice in a life lived amid chaos. Want to fight? Good, then keep at it even after you die. That was oddly liberating and dreadful at the same time. Valens didn¡¯t know how he felt about it.


    ¡­¡­


    They had decided to take a little break even though Nomad grumbled about something along the lines of time being crucial, since Valens didn¡¯t want to continue through the cave with barely mana left in his source. A good two hours was what he needed, and some time to check on the new stats he¡¯d gained in that battle.


    The notion that not only could he boost the amount of mana in his source by giving a bunch of points into some magical stat, but also strengthen the might of his spells as well, intrigued him.


    It was a drug, one that he wouldn¡¯t mind getting more.


    Name: Valens Kosthal


    Age: 22


    Race: Human (Ancient)


    Class: Arcane Healer (Ancient)


    Level: 25


    Experience: 77%


    ¡­


    Free Points: 60


    Twelve new levels from dealing with a bunch of animated corpses, and he was close to gaining one more by the amount of experience he had. That seemed like a progress well earned, so he eyed the Intelligence and Wisdom pair once more, not bothering to focus on his other stats.


    Intelligence - 70


    Wisdom - 30


    Valens tapped a finger over his chin as he regarded his status. A part of him wished to pour everything he had into Intelligence to boost his mana pool. More of it seemed a better choice if they would keep dealing with crowds of skeletons. But that, in return, would cost him some precious time in between the clashes as his renewal rate wouldn¡¯t be able to keep up with the sudden increase.


    I suppose getting the maximum rate is a must.


    Right. There was no telling if he could get a breather after every encounter.


    He distributed his stats.


    Intelligence - 107


    Wisdom - 53


    Mana roared from within his chest cavity, pouring through his ribcage into the mana pool like the waves of a gurgling river. The resulting splash shook Valens as he managed a Lifeward around the source to follow the process. He was disappointed, as once again, other than the sudden appearance of mana he couldn¡¯t pry into what went beyond the surface.


    Something was different at work there. He was sure of it.


    ¡°Off with that stupid grin on your face, already,¡± Nomad grunted from beside him, bony legs stretched out and the sword laid over them. That Heartstone thrumming still. ¡°Nothing like the feeling of new stats, eh?¡±


    ¡°Did you get one?¡± Valens grinned. ¡°By the density of your bones I can tell you¡¯re favoring the Endurance and Strength pair more than the other stats. Some Vitality in the mix, surely, as that crack is fixing itself strangely quick.¡± He pointed at his bare legs.


    ¡°Difference in experience. I was made to understand one fact when I¡¯d been roused. Dealing with beasts is easy so long as you keep your head over the shoulders. It helps with the heat of the Underworld as well.¡± Nomad winced slightly. ¡°But you can¡¯t be too sure in the Broken Lands. This place is nothing like the Depths. There, you know your demons, you expect them to shriek into your face and come clawing with senseless fury. But here¡­ There are too many horrors that don¡¯t play by the rules.¡±


    ¡°The Broken Lands,¡± Valens started, picking the dirt in his fingers with the tip of his nails. ¡°I¡¯m still not entirely sure what I¡¯m supposed to get from¡­ any of this. You¡¯ve told me I¡¯ve crashed into this Rift, but what exactly is a Rift?¡±


    ¡°Eh.¡± Nomad shrugged. ¡°Come to think of it, if you can¡¯t even remember the existence of the system then you must be missing quite a few things. A Rift is a tear in the air, a way for the dwellers of the Broken Lands to spill into the Haven¡¯s Reach. The so-called paradise of humans where there¡¯s at least some semblance of peace.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a grand name,¡± Valens muttered.


    ¡°Reckon simple has never been enough for your kind,¡± Nomad snorted as he drew a circle on the ground of the cave with an armored finger. He pointed at it. ¡°That¡¯s the place,¡± he said, before he went on to divide it into multiple smaller circles with long stretches of lines between them. ¡°Some seas in the mix, a body of water here and there, but you get the gist of it. You have four little continents.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± Valens scowled.


    ¡°Then you have the Broken Lands,¡± Nomad said, managing a giant circle that encompassed everything inside of it. The small circle that represented the Haven¡¯s Reach was choked all around by what Valens assumed were enormous seas, which separated it from the Broken Lands. ¡°That¡¯s where the Damned live.¡±


    A short silence settled between them as Valens regarded the clumsy drawing. If this was indeed the case¡­ He shook his head. This was too strange.


    After getting a more clear understanding of the System, he thought that people of this world had an endless potential to become more than mere humans. If even he could sense the power brimming in his chest with a few levels, then what could a man beyond Level 100 accomplish? What a Level 200 couldn¡¯t do with a flick of their hands?


    Nomad was one simple example that he had the chance to witness in action. He¡¯d just dealt with dozens of skeletons, and came out alive with but a few cracks.


    ¡°We don¡¯t care much about why the Damned is so obsessed with the Haven¡¯s Reach,¡± Nomad continued, voice grave as the dark of the cave. ¡°Our job is to handle the bastards under this world, not the above. That¡¯s your kind¡¯s problem. But far as I know, there¡¯s something in the Haven¡¯s Reach that they want, and for some reason they can¡¯t cross the Endless Seas on foot.¡±


    ¡°So they open Rifts, is that it?¡± Valens asked. ¡°Tears in space. Warping through these gates to reach what is unreachable otherwise. And how are they doing it, exactly?¡±


    ¡°Beats me,¡± Nomad muttered. ¡°But I reckon it¡¯s something about the system. The Trials force humans to tread upon the Broken Lands, so the same must be true for them.¡±


    ¡°You mean these creatures have the System too?¡± Valens trembled.


    ¡°Of course they do,¡± Nomad looked him in the eye. ¡°I¡¯ve told you the System is just that, the way of this world.¡±


    ¡­.

 Chapter 13: Its Raining

    Two hours passed, and it was still dark in the cave. Dark with a graveyard of a stink coming from all around him. Water dripped from somewhere over the ceiling. That was the only sound. A tap and then another tap. The rhythm of it scarcely changed.


    Valens picked himself up off the ground when he felt his mana source. He was ready, now, as ready as anyone caught in some twisted world could be. Questions were a dime a dozen here, and asking them one by one to Nomad proved, well, not particularly fruitful.


    Nomad knew some things, and had little clue about the others, or rather, his kind cared not what the human populace was up to in their so-called peaceful lands. The Undead were mostly busy with dealing with demons caged in the bowels of the earth, and only heed to the calls they thought of as profitable.


    It was a sick cycle, Valens came to realize, as the Undead had no other way to breed but to rely on corpses lent to this Eternal War. Used to be humans themselves, once, but after they had their hearts forged into stones they came alive as strange creatures fixated on a single mission.


    So then, he presumed, it was only right for Nomad to not have a deep understanding of human society. If what he¡¯d told him was true, though, humans were fighting somewhere in this cave system. Real humans who were a part of this guild called Duality.


    Valens couldn¡¯t wait to meet with some of them.


    They moved onward silent as cats, Valens picking each of his steps with care, his mind ever-focused on the Resonance as he kept an eye across the stretch. He was brutally hungry, and parched as a man thrown out into the edge of a desert, hoping to chance his way into an oasis to quench some of his thirst.


    He could conjure some water from the humidity in the air, of course, and there was some of it pooled over the holes across the ground, but by no means did he have any trust in it. The rot was heavy in here, and chances were, it blended into the water like an insidious poison.


    Head kept low, mind blurry with all the strangeness that coated over him, he followed Nomad through the cave. The path was windy ahead, but thanks to Nomad¡¯s bulk he could barely feel it.


    By the time they came across another corner the ceiling started shaking, bits of gravel raining down in trickles from above them. Through his sound vision Valens tried to get a picture of what was happening, but the thick layer of stone and soil blurred the frequencies into a tangled mess.


    ¡°Back off,¡± Nomad said, holding his sword at the ready. ¡°I have a bad feeling about this.¡±


    Bits and pieces sprinkled about as another part of the ceiling started moving. It soon spread to the greater half of the rock, the outer layer trembling continuously as whatever force was drilling into it grew stronger.


    ¡°We should move,¡± Valens suggested. Standing under a ceiling shaking madly seemed hardly a sensible act. ¡°We don¡¯t have to actually wait and see what¡¯s causing it, right?¡±


    Nomad seemed to consider the words before giving him a nod. ¡°Try to keep up, then. I don¡¯t want to turn back just to scrape your paste from the ground.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not very nice, are you?¡± Valens pursed his lips, and nudged him ahead. ¡°Go, get a run on. I¡¯ll show you a cool trick.¡±


    Nomad gave him one last glance before bolting forward.


    Valens immediately got to work, preparing a Blockage with his newly boosted mana pool. He fixed the spell with mana threads to the various parts of his body, connecting each thread to his mana core for continuous supply.


    That done, he stretched his legs and leaned forward like one of those athletes competing in the spring festival games. It took him a moment to prepare a pair of Gales in his hands, weaving the web of spell threads round his fingers before he stopped.


    Something is odd with the Resonance.


    Gales felt different around his hands. Stronger, and sharper than before, but also lacking in a strange way. The frequencies had an uneven tune about them, as if their rhythm was broken. But before he could check further, the ground shook underneath his feet.


    I can¡¯t linger around.


    With a deep breath he focused on the apathy and put his palms facing backward. He released both Gales at the same time.


    The air roared around him as the spells launched him forward. The walls flashed past. Bits of gravel bounced painfully from his body. He nearly crashed into the ceiling when the force threatened to go out of control. This wasn¡¯t the same spell he¡¯d used to mess around in the Academy.


    It had changed.


    Still, he managed to twist himself in mid-leap, pulling his legs overhead to kick himself back to the ground. Then, with another twist, he placed one foot down and pushed his body through the cave, easing down on the mana supply being fed to the Gales even though the spell could take much more.


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    That was dangerous.


    *Ding! [Gale(Master) : 1 > 2]


    Sweat trickled down his face. He was rather rusty with practice, but soon managed to find his touch round the ground, taking a step between each burst of Gale to direct his way through the path.


    Ding! You have learned the Class Skill ¡®Light Feet - Master.¡¯ Do you want to register it in one of your skill slots?


    Valens accepted. Though the name ¡®Light Feet¡¯ earned an arched eyebrow from him, the notification didn¡¯t come as a surprise. The Wind Magi, specialized in the feats of travel and such, often used this same method for trains or even air balloons. Granted, they had to fix a good deal of Wards around the aforementioned vehicles of travel to manage the balance.


    A human¡¯s body, though, just needed a pair of Wards clutched in one¡¯s hand and a simple spell formula for Gale transcribed on the conductive tool. For Valens, turning the neutral mana in his core to Wind mana was basically done naturally with the initiation of the spell.


    Ding! The Class Skill ¡®Light Feet - Master¡¯ has been registered into your skill slots.


    Remaining Class Skill Slots (2/10)


    Through the dark corridor, from under the trembling ceiling of the cave he darted, until he caught sight of Nomad bounding ahead. Each of Nomad¡¯s steps crushed the poor moss underneath. He still had his sword clutched in one hand, ready to spin for a move in the case of need.


    And he did just that, barely stopping the weapon an inch before Valens¡¯s face when they crossed eyes.


    ¡°Nine Hells!¡± he growled, emerald eyes blinking in surprise as he strained and corrected himself mid-air before continuing with his jog. ¡°You never told me that you can fly!¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± Valens answered matter of factly. He gestured with his head to his feet. ¡°See? I¡¯m just walking with some support on my back.¡±


    Nomad looked greatly disturbed at the movement of Valens¡¯s feet. He said, ¡°You¡¯re blasting yourself forward. How¡¯s that fair?¡±


    ¡°Nothing¡¯s fair in any world,¡± Valens muttered with a smile tugging at his lips.


    Side by side, they kept at it, the ceiling still moving dangerously above them. Fist-sized rocks had joined the tiny pebbles raining down upon their heads. Valens even caught sight of a shining claw that ripped out a great chunk with minimal effort, tossing it randomly down across the cave before moving onto a different part.


    ¡°Are those¡­ claws?¡± he said. ¡°I think there are claws coming out from the ceiling.¡±


    ¡°Shit! They must be moles. What the hell are they doing here?¡± Nomad cursed.


    Valens sure would have liked an answer to that question.


    Nomad¡¯s sword did a respectable effort at blasting the larger rocks, sending them spinning madly about the cave, some of them clanking off from his silvery plate, but lacking in the equipment and the Endurance departments, Valens had to dodge around the raining bits and stick close to Nomad¡¯s side.


    Something dropped from the ceiling. Right into Valens¡¯s chest. The furry claws clutched at his shoulders as though a monkey grabbing at a tree branch, the sharp tips digging painfully into his flesh. The creature itself glanced curiously at Valens, its little eyes barely visible in the thick fur coating around them.


    ¡°It¡¯s really a mole!¡± Valens winced as he nearly lost control. By sheer will alone he kept his palms facing backward. Even a little move would¡¯ve sent him crashing into the walls. Still, he shook himself and tried to wriggle out of the creature¡¯s hold.


    The sword did the job for him. It cut a smooth way through the middle of the beast, spurting dark blood all across Valen¡¯s face, leaving only a pair of clawed and gnarled arms still clutched at Valens¡¯s shoulders.


    ¡°Fucking Steelmoles! They just don¡¯t know when to let go,¡± Nomad muttered as they slowed down and came to a skidding stop.


    Valens used the opportunity to wrench the claws off from his shoulders, followed by a hasty pair of Lifeward and Lifesurge to fix the damage, wincing as the mana threads stitched the flesh back to smooth. Then he rasped out a breath and glanced over his shoulders.


    It was raining moles in the cave.


    ¡°This can¡¯t be real,¡± he said, wiping the sweat off his face and giving Nomad a look when the undead stayed there silent with an odd expression behind his visor. ¡°Say something. What the hell are these things?¡±


    Nomad clicked his greenish tongue. ¡°Mindless beasts. Always seeking an opportunity to mess with the dead.¡±


    More creatures plopped down to the ground and shook off the gravel around their fur. The largest one came about Valens¡¯s waist, with its claws emanating a dangerous set of frequencies that dinned inside his mind. Their dot-like eyes lacked any sort of glint, stooped backs slick with fur. All in all, they really looked like a bunch of overfed moles.


    Valens checked that large one.


    [Steelmole Carver - Level ??]


    ¡°I can¡¯t see its level,¡± he muttered. ¡°It must be strong.¡±


    Nomad snorted. ¡°Level 75. A damn adult, that one. You know the only thing they do is to dig the ground and bully the newly roused. Those claws can cut through bones like nothing.¡±


    The trouble was, they weren¡¯t digging now. They were staring at Nomad.


    ¡°They don¡¯t just happen to plop here without any reason, right?¡± Valens glanced doubtfully into Nomad¡¯s eyes, who averted his gaze and shrugged. ¡°Why are they giving you that look? What have you done to these little animals?¡±


    ¡°Look, it¡¯s complicated. They hate us, and we hate them. But you don¡¯t actually believe I deserve a horde on my back, do you? Clearly they were running away from the fight above. This is all a big coincidence.¡±


    ¡°Coincidence?¡±


    Valens heard that word used for quite a few things. It was the first time he¡¯d seen an intelligent corpse use it for a horde of twisted moles glaring daggers into its face.


    ¡°What do we do now?¡± he asked. There was a difference between raining a fire storm from high up where none of the Skeletons could reach and facing off a horde of beasts who seemed to bear a special grudge against the Undead.


    Nomad rested his sword over his shoulder and said, ¡°We wait. We can¡¯t outrun them here under the ground. Bastards are too damn quick on their little feet. We¡¯ll wait and hope that they¡¯ll not take their anger out on us.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean ¡®us¡¯? I didn¡¯t do anything,¡± Valens said with a frown. ¡°Are you trying to drag me to the old feud between your kinds? I¡¯m afraid the most I can do is to give you moral support.¡±


    Nomad managed to look disappointed with a tilt of his head. ¡°We have fought together. Through the flames. Through the bones. Now¡¯s not the time to turn your back to your company. I know Priests hate this kind of combat, but you¡¯ve to man up and shoulder the responsibility.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ What?¡±


    ¡°Looks like they¡¯ve decided,¡± Nomad said and wrapped his hands around the sword as the horde stirred before them, dozens of moles inching slowly closer. ¡°Get ready.¡±


    Valens didn¡¯t have a chance to answer when the first line of moles darted forward. He hurriedly pulled his hands up and called a pair of Fireballs, sending them blazing toward the shining claws.


    ¡­¡­..

 Chapter 14: The Call

    The moment Valens let the pair of Fireballs sail across the cave, he was instantly struck by a sudden jolt around his hands. Something was different. Mana roared within his chest, the furious river sending a gurgling wave of magical source through his fingers to feed the spells.


    Such intensity that the Fireballs grew twice in size, bloating the narrow passage with burning lights. They splashed in a grand wave of crimson fury against the first line of Steelmoles, drowning them in sparks and sending restless droplets of fire about the cave.


    Pained shrieks stabbed at Valens¡¯s heart, the muffled cries jabbing hard into his ears in the close confines of the passage. The air blurred and twisted before the resulting wall of flame. The heat was suffocating. It ate away all the oxygen in the air.


    *Ding! [Fireball(Proficient): 4 > 5]


    Next to Valens, Nomad was staring at the sight with hands hesitant around the handle of his sword. His mouth parted, that same piece of flesh hanging from the upper lip. ¡°This¡­¡± he muttered absently, sounding greatly disturbed. ¡°You¡¯ve got a level in Fireball or what?¡±


    Valens grinned at him. Seemed like the stats he¡¯d recently poured into the Intelligence were doing some work here. Some curious work, indeed, but there was something else that piqued his interest.


    It almost feels like the spell yearns for more. It grew ¡ª no, that¡¯s not it. This is not mere growth. The Resonance hadn¡¯t changed. It just became more clear? More alive? I can catch the notes with a clarity unlike before.


    Valens focused on the frequencies. The Fireball¡¯s rhythm had always been a constant flow, a melody that remained unbroken so long he supplied it with mana. But just now, when he focused on the Resonance, he caught scattered gaps to its rhythm.


    Were those always there?


    If so¡­ Valens¡¯s heart dropped. Such a waste! Such impotency to let a spell flail mindlessly in a broken, almost painful cadence! If Headmaster Eldras had been here, he would have long cracked that stick of his on the back of his incompetent disciple even though Valens was basically a rookie in the field of Warmagic.


    He reached out with haste, eyes fixed on the burning wall. Though the spells lost their form, their core remained strong as Valens kept them bound to his inner mana source.


    It took him a moment to prepare a Lifesurge while keeping the Fireballs alive. Once he heard the bloom of the life mana, a strong thump in his reeling mind, he cast it upon the fire wall. The invisible surges rushed forward, seeking the gaps in the otherwise constant rhythm as Valens strained with keeping three spells at once.


    That was when a pair of sharp claws cleaved across the burning flames, parting the wall just enough that the Steelmoles could spill through it.


    ¡°Stubborn bastards,¡± Nomad cursed, and lunged for the incoming beasts.


    His sword found purchase with a sickening squelch, sending a couple of corpses sprawling over to the side. Blood spurted in waves and sprinkled about the cave. Dotted the walls in blackish streaks that slid down through the jagged stone.


    A claw caught Nomad by its unprotected bony legs, scraping and grinding against the kneecap as the Steelmole tried to rip out that part. Another one was aiming low, its claws striking against the armored feet and trying to dig deep through the silvery metal.


    The heavy sword fell upon the first one and through its thick fur. Its tip broke free from the creature''s soft belly. Nomad cast the corpse away with a flick of his wrist, then drove his right knee down at the other one.


    He came out swinging, turning and twisting about, feet crushing the little moles and leaving puddles of bloody soup and mashed bones in their wake. Still, the moles rushed at him, as if taken by mindless fury.


    There!


    Valens finally caught the gaps with the Lifesurge. The invisible surge threads filled the strange empty sequences with a set of frequencies Valens painfully adjusted to that of the Fireball¡¯s song. While doing so, he came across a most bothersome find, one that brought back the Archmagus inside of him who was obsessed with every bit of magical knowledge.


    The spell was wrong. Somehow, something was just not right with its inner core. It felt like trying to find the word that lingered on the tip of his tongue, but for the life of him Valens couldn¡¯t quite put a name on this issue.


    He could only patch the broken cadence for now, as it wasn¡¯t the time to dwell on this oddity. The moles were swarming over Nomad as the large Steelmole kept the flame wall parted.


    Nomad wavered and cursed loud, but he remained nailed before Valens. Bodies lay in heaps around him. Blood painted his plate in blackish crimson.


    Mana burned within Valens¡¯s chest once he patched the gaps. Then, as if a pipe recently unclogged, it rushed in a flood toward the Fireballs and bolstered them with a constant rhythm. Still wrong, but at least uninterrupted.


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    Valens felt unimaginable power in his fingers.


    Ding! [Fireball (Proficient) has been upgraded to Fireball (Adept)!]


    Rather than laboring with the flame wall, he instead let go of the Fireballs and conjured a new pair over his fingers. Flames burned red and white along his finger tips, radiating a heat that nearly scorched the side of his face.


    ¡°Move aside!¡± he yelled at Nomad.


    Nomad spared him a momentary glance. His emerald eyes blinked at the feverish balls hovering an inch above Valens¡¯s hands. ¡°What the hell are those? You¡¯re going to burn this whole place!¡±


    ¡°Move¡­ Aside! I can¡¯t keep these for long.¡± Valens urged him with a glare.


    Nomad twirled his sword around himself to get some distance from the moles, then stepped back¡­ back behind Valens¡¯s and took cover there. With a tired sigh, Valens finally released the Fireballs.


    The whole cave came alive with blaring lights, washing over the ranks of Steelmoles in waves. Valens saw their little eyes grow wide as they scrambled hesitantly back. But there was nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide from the burning suns that covered nearly every inch of the opening.


    Spells crashed down hard into their ranks. Splashed across in waves of scorching heat, filling the air with the stench of burnt fur and flesh. Pained cries and broken lines. The side walls dripping wet with melted stones. Shaking. All around the cave a mad shaking rocking them to the core.


    Valens flinched back. He stared at his own fingers, feeling the mana threads still feeding the spells. So long he wanted, so long he had enough mana, he could keep those flames burning around the cave.


    Yet his stomach turned. Bile piled into his mouth. The little creatures thrashed and flailed about before him, droplets of fire biting deep into their skin. Some of them looked like broken shapes charred beyond recognition. Others clawed at their own skin, ripping out parts where the fire refused to die out.


    You have managed to defeat [Steelmole - lvl 54]! For killing a creature above your own level, you are granted bonus experience.


    You have managed to defeat [Steelmole - lvl 47]! For killing a creature above your own level, you are granted bonus experience.


    You have managed to defeat [Steelmole - lvl 48]! For killing a creature above your own level, you are granted bonus experience.


    You have managed to defeat [Steelmole - lvl 45]! For killing a creature above your own level, you are granted bonus experience.


    You have managed to defeat [Steelmole - lvl 49]! For killing a creature above your own level, you are granted bonus experience.


    You have managed to defeat [Steelmole - lvl 45]! For killing a creature above your own level, you are granted bonus experience.


    You have leveled up! 5 Stat Points granted!


    You have leveled up! 5 Stat Points granted!


    ¡­


    You have leveled up! 5 Stat Points granted!


    Ding [Fireball(Adept) 5 > 6]


    Ding [Fireball(Adept) 6 > 7]


    Notifications blinked in his vision. Walls of text trying to keep the hellish sight away from his eyes.


    Valens waved them off. Skeletons had been different. Burning them almost felt like it was the right thing to do, but this made him sick in a way he couldn¡¯t quite understand.


    ¡°The big guy is coming,¡± Nomad muttered, and strode off to meet the large Steelmole crawling on all fours toward them.


    Bits of its fur were missing. A gaping hole right around its head had flesh squirming in it. Valens could see its skull there, white bone barely visible under the pooling blood. Through the force of habit he checked the Resonance of the wound. Felt it stir slightly, naturally as if guided by an invisible hand.


    The creature was healing.


    Its flesh burnt with the Fireballs was somehow stitching itself back. Valens knew the moment he laid his eyes upon that reaction that it would take minutes, perhaps hours for that wound to be closed. Still, it was faster than a human¡¯s natural regeneration rate by dozens of times.


    Endurance and Vitality.


    Valens steeled the apathy and forced his thoughts back to the present as Nomad raised his sword at the mole. A Resonant Healer¡¯s real forte was his strong mind. His hold around his emotions tightened. He squashed them with practiced ease, and prepared another Fireball in his right hand.


    The mole lunged at Nomad, easily dodging around the sword in mid air and clawing across his helmet. Metal cried sharply as the claws scraped against the worn armor, but it held true, which gave Nomad a chance to turn his sword and stab at the mole¡¯s underbelly.


    Sharp claws swatted the tip of the weapon away, the mole using the resulting momentum to launch itself toward the side wall. All four claws caught the rock in a steely grip, then the creature tensed back and threw itself yet again to Nomad.


    Valens sent the Fireball hurtling toward its path, Nomad stepping back to allow the spell an uninterrupted passage. White and crimson flames scattered about when the mole clawed the Fireball through the middle, barely slowing as its claws glinted with strange lights.


    The change to the Resonance was slight, but enough to alert Valens¡¯s senses. He called for a Gale to push the creature back, the wind stirring the fiery droplets still burning on the mole¡¯s black fur, only to pause when Nomad snorted and banged an armored fist to his chest.


    Green light burst forth. So bright that Valens had to shade his eyes and let go of Gale. A harsh note bloomed in his mind, as if a hammer had caught him by the head and sent his thoughts reeling.


    It took him a Lifesurge to regain his focus, one that he forced over the screaming note. When he pried his eyes open, he froze.


    Nomad¡¯s plate was alive with greenish fog. There was no heat to them. Nothing but that strong note and the waves of rolling fog that told Valens they really existed. Like ethereal limbs they stretched forth and coiled around the mole, caught the creature in mid-leap and held him there.


    The undead¡¯s sword ripped the Steelmole Carver¡¯s body through the middle.


    Tendrils of greenish fog drilled into the creature¡¯s carved flesh. They pulsed and wriggled as they sucked all the blood out of the mole. Left it drained and cast the mangled body parts away while Nomad watched with disturbing apathy in his emerald eyes.


    Before long the green fog was everywhere, seeping through the half-dead moles¡¯ wounds and leaving them bloodless. When the last one wheezed weakly as it died, Nomad clenched a fist and thumped it on his chest.


    ¡°Lord Zahul¡¯s calling,¡± he said to the silent question in Valens¡¯s eyes, then glanced upward and scowled. ¡°We need to move. Fast. Something¡¯s wrong above there.¡±


    Valens nodded. The look in Nomad¡¯s face gave him no chance whatsoever to argue.


    ¡­¡­

 Chapter 15: Under the Pile

    The cave seemed to hum with crushing echoes around them. Rocks rolled and crashed down the ground, walls shaking as if they were about to come off. They weaved through the throng while Nomad refused to utter a word and kept sneaking glances from the ceiling.


    Valens let Nomad drag him onward. The air had a different quality about it here. The sort that didn¡¯t feel quite right. Above, through the jumble of tangled frequencies, he could hear hundreds of different tunes all carrying a hint of consciousness.


    A nervous sensation crept around his chest.


    They were getting closer to the exit. He felt the wind now more than ever. The draft almost pushed him further, beckoned him slowly toward the world above. Still, Nomad¡¯s sudden change and the green fog weighed on his mind. It was still rolling off Nomad¡¯s shoulders like a cape.


    ¡°Can you at least tell me what¡¯s going on?¡± he said as Light Feet allowed him to keep pace with Nomad. ¡°You look surprised just then. Disturbed. Why?¡±


    ¡°They must¡¯ve found the Necromancer.¡± Nomad glanced at him, voice unnaturally stiff, emerald eyes carrying the remnants of the greenish fog. ¡°It''s the Everfog of Lord Zahul. He wouldn¡¯t have crossed over the Pact without a good reason.¡±


    ¡°Everfog?¡± Valens asked. It looked like the same kind of fog that strangled a dozen Skeletons down below. The kind that seemed hostile against the bodies roused by the Necromancer.


    Nomad did not answer. He was keeping to himself instead of paying Valens any heed, jaw moving soundlessly under the helmet.


    They rounded a corner and came to a stop when the cavern forked into three different paths up ahead.


    ¡°Time to choose, Valens,¡± he said, giving him a look over the shoulder. He pointed a finger at the left-most entrance. ¡°That¡¯ll get you into another cave. You¡¯ll see a bunch of Skeletons, but nothing more. Once you deal with them, you can then wait until the Quest is completed. The Keystone will get everyone of you back to Haven¡¯s Reach once it''s done.¡±


    Valens moved over to the side and regarded the paths with his sound vision. He caught a set of frequencies thrumming under the mossy ground, most of them coming from the middle path. Steps and thumps of strong beats. The left-most path was steeper with a stronger draft through the incline. The right-most path, instead, sloped downward.


    ¡°You¡¯re thinking of picking that one,¡± Valens said with a nudge of his head toward the middle path. ¡°It¡¯s crowded there. Chaotic, too.¡±


    ¡°Uh,¡± Nomad grunted. ¡°I must answer the Call. Already made a mistake leaving the boys.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve said you¡¯ve got lost.¡± Valens arched an eyebrow at him. Nomad had been strangely tight-lipped about his own tale, other than stating outright he was simply lost.


    Everybody lies.


    ¡°Pick a path,¡± Nomad urged him, a tone of mild fury in his voice. ¡°Make it quick.¡± He stepped closer to the middle path and trailed a finger through his sword, waiting.


    ¡°Been through a lot, haven¡¯t we? Through the bones and flames, eh? I say you¡¯re being rather rude going back on your word now.¡± Valens shrugged and brushed past Nomad, peering back to his face. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    Nomad¡¯s shoulders hunched down. Emerald eyes squinted in hesitation. A glimmer of light shone round the ethereal fog coating over him, burning bright under the chestpiece. The thrum of his Heartstone had never been this clear, but its beats were a mess that lacked any sort of rhythm.


    In the end, Nomad bent forward and pulled his sword up. Gazed at it for a long second before giving an uncertain nod. ¡°Memories,¡± he said, and clicked his jaw. ¡°Can¡¯t get away with them, can you?¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Then we move.¡±


    They started up the middle path, walls widening around them. Tip and tap, water spilled down through the cracks along the ceiling. Everything was cold and dead, and yet Valens¡¯s back prickled with invisible fear. His sound-vision sent tremors of unknown origins down his chest.


    He hated the feeling. Knowing something was out there, but lacking the ability to see what it really was. Felt like solving one of the Master¡¯s puzzles. You¡¯d think you have a pretty good idea about the path you¡¯d need to choose, only to realize you¡¯ve been led blindly to a dead-end.


    That sense of aimless wandering and nervous expectation multiplied here down in the cave, but Nomad¡¯s sudden silence was worse. Valens then thought, much to his surprise, of yanking Nomad by the armor and asking him to spill everything out of his chest. Poke him with a Gale or two in case he¡¯d resist.


    Eats away the mind.


    This couldn¡¯t possibly be a side effect of Warmagic. A quick Lifeward told him that nothing in his body frequencies suggested that a change had happened in his nerve lines. Thoughts, though restless, still carried the same tone of cold separation about them. A Resonant Healer¡¯s mind wasn¡¯t different from a castle nailed at the edge of the long acres of the Northern Lands, hardened by the bone-chilling winds and ever-furious blizzards.


    But then, warmth and questions, the stubborn pursuit of knowledge sat across the side of this harsh apathy. It was during those times, when he¡¯d pour himself over the rocking chair and sip from Master Eldras¡¯s home brewed root beer, or when they argued vehemently about a certain topic they just couldn¡¯t meet each other halfway, that the apathy with which he shaded his mind faltered.


    When he trailed that line of thought and was reminded of times he¡¯d found himself at loss for words, when anger prevailed over his tight control round his emotions, when it became too much that he couldn¡¯t stop the shaking of his fingers, he came to a fascinating discovery.


    He was in a different world, trapped in an underground maze of caves, probably looking at facing a Necromancer and hundreds of corpses animated by his foul magic, hadn¡¯t eaten a single bite of food for the last two days, but he was more bothered by the fact that Nomad refused to share what was clearly an important matter for him.


    Nonsense.


    Valens¡¯s immediate reaction to the idea was to reject it. Young he might be, but he still carried the weight of an Archmagus¡¯s mantle over his back. He couldn¡¯t have been moved by the companionship they shared with this unnatural being for just over a day.


    He was shaking his head when he finally witnessed a solitary streak of light break into the dark of the cave. It glistened silver, carrying the gentle touch of the moon''s unmistakable grace.


    More awaited them further along. Cracks widened and hinted at a promise of the world beyond. Still, Valens squashed his expectations and kept his heart in check. The streaks likely have found their way here after bouncing through a web of cracks in the stone, considering he could only see the hard walls beyond those cracks.


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    But there was one thing clear. They were nearing the chaos.


    ¡­¡­


    The road ahead was littered with pieces of bones, some splintered and ground into dust, some others riddled with cracks. The growling beat of Nomad¡¯s Heartstone thumped in Valens¡¯s mind when they came across an armored body, one that¡¯d been nailed by a rusted spear to a side wall. Under its legs, green bits of stone glimmered ominously.


    ¡°I see you, brother,¡± Nomad muttered as he gave a long glance at the undead¡¯s corpse, sword clenched tight in his hand and the other hand clasped in a fist over his chest. ¡°Your stone now belongs to the Ninth Legion.¡±


    Nomad repeated the same salute to the dozens of similar corpses along the way, mixed with an ungodly number of Skeletons and Skeleton Soldiers. Valens saw different shaped beasts between them. Hulking, dangerous-looking bone frames of creatures that spoke of unimaginable sizes.


    One such corpse that had four strong bony limbs dripping with rotten flesh, one that could easily rival a two-story house in size, seemed to have crushed a group of undead under its weight. Nomad lingered a bit longer at the sight.


    This scene reminded Valens of a border skirmish that happened three years ago. Ten thousand men had been butchered during a long winter. Bodies succumbed to the frostbite even before the men could carry them into the Healer¡¯s Tent. Blood had pooled and smeared every bit of the military camp. Death had become a daily occurrence.


    But nothing had been worse than the chaotic desperation of the frequencies. When a man died, he lost his Resonance, the song that accompanied and grew with him throughout his life. A bullet to his heart, then it was gone. Back to nothing.


    Here, the same tune of empty agony hung thick in the air. Of remorse and rejection. Of pain and the nothingness of what had once been alive. Most of them belonged to the undead. Their Heartstones still bled even after they lost their glints.


    Over that mournful hum, a clear cry dinned in Valens¡¯s mind. Painful. Diminishing. He rushed past Nomad who was saluting the dead of his legion, through the giant bones and heap of bodies, until he stopped before a mountain of a carcass that blocked nearly half of the passage. There were other corpses strewn about here, bodies belonging to humans that died horrible deaths.


    The clear sound came from just under those giant bones. A pained cry of a Resonance that burned stark amidst others. Valens grabbed at the ribcage of the already dead creature, straining against the weight. That didn¡¯t work, so he decided to cast a Gale when a strong, armored hand reached from behind him and clenched the rib cage tight.


    Nomad hauled the set of bones with a grunt, lifted it high and sent it crashing back the way they came, revealing a woman who lay senseless round a set of bones.


    [Warrior - ???]


    She was buried half-way into the ground, streaks of fractured earth sprawling about from the point of impact as if she was crushed by a great force. Her armor glistened golden, the chestpiece dented hideously into the ribcage, bits of shining metal tangled in the bloody flesh of her chest. Blood had dried round her lips, two blue eyes wide open and staring at nothing. She must¡¯ve been blonde once, but now the hair had streaks of crimson smearing it.


    Valens managed a Lifeward with immediate focus, instinct taking over his mind. The frequencies that dinned within the woman¡¯s Resonance painted a grave picture in his sound vision.


    Her ribcage was gone, heart punctured by the broken bones in more than five different points. Barely any blood flowed through her veins. Tunes of foreign substances rumbled in the Resonance, likely some sort of poison, perhaps similar to viper¡¯s tongue ¡ª a most vile and unforgiving toxin that could paralyze an adult¡¯s body in a few seconds.


    Such a terrible case.


    It was more the reason why he had trouble believing the frequencies inside his mind still carried a hint of life.


    The woman was alive. Somehow, something was keeping her heart beating even as blood spurted out through the holes around her chest. Her breaths came out in a soundless, faint wheeze that Valens was sure nobody would¡¯ve heard under that giant pile of bones.


    ¡°Still alive,¡± he muttered, reaching out to her face. ¡°Still breathing.¡±


    Nomad muttered something behind his back. Valens didn¡¯t hear most of it. He was too busy keeping the Lifeward active, already mapping out a general direction for what seemed like an impossible operation.


    But then, through the waves of feedback coming from the Lifeward, the picture detailing the woman¡¯s condition grew clearer in his mind. He caught the coronary arteries feeding the heart, throbbing in a silent, almost pained cadence.


    One of the floating ribs, the eleventh rib bone from the sound of it, was the main culprit of the hampered blood flow. It was thick, thrumming with such force that made him doubt whether it belonged to that beast Nomad hauled from over her than to the woman. It''s point had drilled into the heart from the back and nearly ripped it wide open.


    Even though its shape and size seemed normal at the first glance, Valens was sure even the rootmetal bullets couldn''t ever hope to puncture through such density. Endurance had changed this woman into something more than a mere human, a feat of unimaginable proportions that left him scowling at her face.


    That density now had become a major obstacle.


    ¡°Leave her,¡± Nomad said with a gravelly voice, grabbing Valens¡¯s shoulder with crushing force. When Valens gave him a questioning glance, Nomad shook his head. ¡°She¡¯s dead. We need to move.¡±


    ¡°No, she¡¯s not,¡± Valens said solemnly, planting his feet near the woman and leaning over her. ¡°I can¡¯t leave a patient who has a chance at making it. Go on your own, if you must.¡±


    ¡°You boneless fool! Move!¡± Nomad grumbled and cursed as he placed one armored foot near the woman¡¯s face. His hand clasped the sword in a ready-grip, as if he was preparing to make sure the woman was dead.


    ¡°Stop it,¡± Valens said to his face with cold determination. ¡°And be quiet. I need to work.¡±


    He ignored the undead¡¯s curses as he focused back on the patient. He first studied the subtle movement of the woman¡¯s coronary arteries and the way how the shattered rib cage stirred around her chest. The broken bones seemed guided by an unseen force, just like that large mole with a big wound on its head, trying to find their way back, but failing miserably as there was hardly anything left in the woman¡¯s body to feed their motions.


    So Valens had to take the reins with a pair of Lifesurges, both of which he sent down to the woman¡¯s chest and wrapped around the bone tips biting into the heart, Lifeward constantly letting him know of the Resonance of the broken area.


    Another Lifesurge slithered slowly down and came to a rest beside the largest fracture, waiting to stitch the arteries back when Valens would pull the stubborn bone out of the way.


    A gentle tug at the surge threads sent a wave of crashing frequencies belonging to that of spilling blood into his mind. The woman wheezed out a pained breath as her heart tightened. Valens wasted no time moving onto the artery while guiding the rib bone away to its home, releasing the surge threads once he was done and letting them wash over the damaged area with life mana.


    He repeated the same process with the other fractures, sweat dripping down his chin. The fact that he didn¡¯t have to rely on external tools made the operation a manageable challenge. Without the skills and his inner mana pool supplying them, the patient would¡¯ve been dead the moment he took that bone out of the heart.


    The woman¡¯s natural constitution certainly helped. Like a cracked bare patch of earth, once the surges dissolved into waves of life mana, her body absorbed it greedily and accelerated the healing process.


    Her skin slowly reknitted itself around where the bones poked out of her chest. Valens had already cleared the large pieces of her splintered armor, but for good measure he had to remove the chestpiece and the cloth under it as well, sending another Lifesurge to make sure the bits wouldn¡¯t get mixed into her flesh.


    *Ding! [Lifesurge(Master) : 2 > 3]


    *Ding! [Lifeward(Master) : 2 > 3]


    ¡°You¡¯re wasting our time,¡± Nomad grunted from behind. ¡°Even if you can pull her back, we can¡¯t carry her through the caves. There¡¯s a damned Necromancer¡ª¡°


    ¡°She won¡¯t be a burden,¡± Valens cut him off, giving him a weighing look. ¡°Once I¡¯m done here she¡¯ll be breathing and walking just fine.¡±


    The undead didn¡¯t seem to be convinced, but Valens ignored him. The result would speak for itself. It took him the greater half of his mana pool to make sure everything was back in place. Fatigue weighed hard on his shoulders.


    The woman choked. A rattling, rasping breath rocked her chest. Blood dripped slowly down her chin as some warmth returned to her bare skin. She shook madly, bubbles frothing round her pale lips, eyelids fluttering and fingers grasping at the empty air. Valens had to keep her nailed on the ground lest she¡¯d harm herself.


    Nomad leaned in and peered curiously from beside Valens¡¯s face. His emerald eyes widened. ¡°That can¡¯t be true,¡± he let out an awed breath. ¡°Her eyes¡­ She¡¯s coming to herself. How?¡±


    ¡°Through experience and a mad effort at studying the nature¡¯s miracle that is the human body,¡± Valens answered with a hint of shaded pride in his voice, both hands pressed hard onto the woman¡¯s chest.


    The poison is still there, I¡¯m afraid.


    ¡°Nine Hells! If she¡¯s coming to herself¡­¡± Nomad seemed restless for a reason as his eyes snapped at the woman. ¡°This ain¡¯t going to be pretty.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Valens said.


    ¡°Uh¡ª¡°


    A hand lashed up and caught Valens by the throat, fingers curling painfully tight around his skin. Breath wheezed out weakly through his lips. He flailed. Tried to shake himself off the woman¡¯s hold, but the fingers kept his throat sealed. Kept him there on the spot, and choked him hard.


    ¡­..

 Chapter 16: Conflict

    Valens clawed clumsily at the woman¡¯s hand and tried to jerk himself away, panting for air, cold sweat trickling down his back. Air tightened round his windpipe, breath wheezing weakly through his lips.


    "You mad lass!¡± Nomad cursed and grabbed at the woman, wrapping an armored hand around her arm and wrenching her fingers away from Valens. He drove an elbow down into her chest to nail her back to the ground. ¡°Show a little respect to your savior, will you?¡±


    Valens rubbed his neck. He managed a hasty Lifesurge over his nearly crushed throat as the woman slumped back wheezing, eyes narrowing at Nomad. A defeated, pained gasp escaped her lips.


    ¡°I-Is this the Underworld?¡± she muttered.


    Nomad tilted his head at Valens. ¡°You just have to heal her, don''t you?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the job.¡± Valens pinched the bridge of his nose and peered down at the woman, Lifesurge easing his pain. He certainly hadn¡¯t expected such a reaction, though. He said to the woman, ¡°I¡¯m afraid you¡¯re still a long life away from joining these foul creatures. Now take a deep breath. And keep those hands away from me, please. I don¡¯t tend to respond well to sudden aggressions.¡±


    ¡°Eh?¡± the woman blinked at him.


    ¡°Take a deep breath, woman!¡± Nomad jabbed a finger into her face. ¡°Haven¡¯t they taught you to listen to your healer? You¡¯re wasting our precious time!¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­¡± the woman gulped nervously, blue eyes darting back and forth between the pair of them. ¡°Okay. Um. A deep breath. Yes. I can do that.¡± Then her eyes fell over her bare chest. ¡°What¡­ You!¡±


    Valens massaged his temples. He could feel the promise of a headache crawling up from the nape of his neck.


    ¡°It''s not a matter of taste why he¡¯d stripped you half-naked,¡± Nomad growled at her, disdain stretching his rotten lips thin. ¡°You were a mess. He pulled you out from the Lord¡¯s claws. Be good, now!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not dead,¡± the woman mumbled. She searched blindly around herself, and pulled the broken chestpiece over her bare skin the moment her fingers brushed against it, fumbling with it as her body trembled with a mixture of confusion and pain.


    Valens nodded. A momentary shock was hardly a surprise. He¡¯d seen many battle-hardened men wrestle against demons of painful memory. By comparison, the woman took her near-death experience like a true warrior.


    She clambered wearily to her feet and wrapped a cloth around her breasts, coughed and swallowed nervously. ¡°The Necromancer¡­ Was he dealt with?¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t tell? Look around you, we¡¯re still in this damned cave,¡± Nomad said. ¡°We would be in the thick of a real battle if our healer hadn¡¯t decided to check the corpses. Found you under an Oarfang¡¯s carcass. A well rotten one.¡±


    ¡°So he still lives?¡± The woman scrunched her nose up as if she smelled something bad. ¡°We should¡ª¡°


    ¡°Easy, now,¡± Valens said strictly, scowling down at her. ¡°I need to make another check. You still have poison in your blood.¡±


    Letting go of a patient who came close to having been nearly murdered by an enormous beast right after the treatment would be, by all means, a scandalous offense which could¡¯ve cost his reputation if he were in the Empire. Even though his world changed, that didn¡¯t mean Valens would leave the practice drilled into him during his service.


    A Lifeward poked the woman wide awake, curious eyes all blue and glinting, checking him up and down as Valens kept an ear over the Resonance. All kinds of wrong tunes returned to him, but some right ones too, the ones that he deemed as important.


    ¡°Hmm,¡± he muttered as he singled out a particularly disturbed set of frequencies, a shambled mess over the otherwise constant rhythm of her skull and brain waves. ¡°A minor concussion, but it''s wearing off. Your body¡¯s doing a good job against the poison too. But, best we do another session to wash that completely. I advise you to stay away from trouble for a day or two.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that ain¡¯t happening.¡± Nomad jerked a thump toward the corner of the passage, from beyond which came the sounds of a chaotic battle. ¡°I reckon her guild¡¯s close here. Fighting off that bloody bastard.¡±


    ¡°Why are you here?¡± the woman said suddenly. Bloody threads of golden hair cascaded down her bare shoulders as she turned and gave Nomad a piercing look. ¡°The Lightmaster allowed your Lich to break the Pact. I saw the other undead sucking his venomous fog. So how come you¡¯re standing here, refusing the demands of the Everfog?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve told you I was on my way--¡°


    ¡°Bullshit,¡± the woman fixed him with a glare, then turned slowly to Valens. Her gaze narrowed down at him as she jabbed a shaky hand round the air. ¡°Step back. Both of you! I don¡¯t know what sick game you¡¯re playing here, but I¡¯ll let my guild know about it.¡±


    Nomad¡¯s gaze hardened. Armored hand clenched the sword tight. He raised it high and pointed at the woman¡¯s face, sharp tip itching slowly near her neck. ¡°Don¡¯t try me, human. I¡¯m not known for my patience. We¡¯re here for the same reasons. We¡¯re not the enemy here.¡±


    The woman¡¯s gaze snapped back to Valens. ¡°I don¡¯t know you and you don¡¯t have the Guild¡¯s patch on you, either. Speak! Who the hell are you people? I¡¯ll have you hanged if you dare to lie to me!¡±


    Valens¡¯s neck tensed like a fully drawn bow. He had little idea as to what was happening here, but one thing he was sure of was that this woman smelled of trouble. He doubted if he could get his way if he were to tell her he was from another world. So, he took some inspiration from Nomad¡¯s earlier reasoning, and purposefully managed a pitiful expression over his face to fit the act. ¡°I don¡¯t remember. Found myself here all of a sudden. Something is wrong with my memories.¡±


    ¡°Uh,¡± Nomad grunted hesitantly, giving him a look. The thrum of his Heartstone quickened, which told Valens that his friend here had also done some injury to the truth of things he¡¯d spoken. Then again, he had all the chances in the world had he wished to harm him in some way, so Valens wasn¡¯t particularly concerned.


    Though, he was curious.


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°Let¡¯s say that you¡¯ve forgotten your memories. Then what are you doing with this undead? Can¡¯t you tell that he must be a foul breed, an illicitly roused criminal?¡± The woman raised an accusing finger into Nomad¡¯s face while her eyes searched around the broken bones. Likely looking for a weapon. Her shoulders sagged when she couldn¡¯t see one in reach. The finger remained pointed, however. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure you pay the price¡ª¡°


    ¡°Can we calm down?¡± Valens said, stepping over and standing between the two. He tapped a hand over the woman¡¯s finger, and lowered it slowly.


    ¡°Now I don¡¯t remember how I got here, but this undead has been most helpful. He was showing me the way around, and doing it at my request, mind you,¡± Valens said, then he turned to the woman. ¡°On the other hand, I¡¯m not really sure why right after you¡¯ve been granted a second chance you¡¯ve decided to use it to accuse this proud member of the Ninth Legion. I do have to remind you of your position before any of us decide to resort to violence, though.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re alone, is what he¡¯s saying,¡± Nomad muttered.


    ¡°What about his reasons?¡± the woman said, hardly convinced.


    Good. At least she isn¡¯t suspicious of me now.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear? I was helping him!¡± Nomad growled out. ¡°That¡¯s why I didn¡¯t take the fog in.¡±


    Her pale lips twitched. She wobbled a step back, holding her head as if she was dizzy. It took her a moment to gather herself, after which she continued, ¡°I-I don¡¯t care what the Ninth Legion schemes under that hoax of a world, but this kingdom has its rules! I have to report this criminal¡ª¡°


    ¡°Enough. You do no such thing. Not now, at least. First, you will rest. You¡¯ve been through something terrible and you should be glad that I have found you.¡± Valens scowled once the pitiful act didn¡¯t seem useful. ¡°And you,¡± he gave Nomad a glance. ¡°You¡¯re going to tell me everything.¡±


    Nomad mumbled a sour ¡®yes¡¯ and the woman cursed silently under her breath.


    With that, Valens decided to take a little stroll through the cave, forcing the other two to follow him.


    ¡­.


    It was cold and dreary in the cave. Shadows danced around the boneyard. The broken song of the Heartstones got muddled when another, more subtle tone mixed into their mournful rhythm. Valens swept an eye over the corpses of men and women lying in pools of their own blood about the cave, armors dented and weapons mangled in a horrifying mess.


    He heard the woman mumble a prayer at them. She picked up a spear from an older looking man, gently closing his eyes and tapping a fist over his armor. There was nothing below the man¡¯s bloodied torso.


    ¡°I¡¯m waiting,¡± Valens said as Nomad kept stealing glances from him. ¡°Speak.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve not much to say.¡± Nomad gazed at his sword. ¡°It''s all a blur in my head. Memories, I mean. I was searching for something before I came across you, but can¡¯t remember much of it.¡±


    ¡°Why would she say you¡¯re a criminal, then?¡±


    ¡°Because I am one,¡± he growled. ¡°You don¡¯t understand. A Lich¡¯s order isn¡¯t a mere call for help you can just refuse. It¡¯s a command, one that speaks into your Heartstone. The fog takes control. You can¡¯t resist.¡±


    ¡°But you can?¡± Valens said. ¡°And that¡¯s because you¡¯re a criminal?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the only explanation. I must¡¯ve been buried alive. You ought to be a bastard to deserve that, you know? A real bastard. A murderer.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve told me that the criminals can¡¯t become undead. Why are you one, then?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the real problem, eh? I don¡¯t remember shit.¡±


    ¡°Shadow¡¯s piece,¡± the woman hissed through clenched teeth, and spat at the ground.


    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± Valens asked with genuine curiosity.


    ¡°She¡¯s trying to say that I¡¯m one of the Shadow¡¯s pawns. You know, the Tainted Father, the King of the Damned, and so on,¡± Nomad chuckled humorlessly. ¡°They say he likes to play games like this, but I don¡¯t reckon I¡¯ve had any worth to have been picked by that bloody fucker.¡±


    ¡°Uh, yes. Shadow. Sure,¡± Valens said tiredly. ¡°So we¡¯ve cleared the air for now, then? It''s fair to say that the misunderstandings¡ª¡°


    ¡°We¡¯ve cleared nothing, Priest,¡± the woman hissed at him, one eyebrow arched in doubt. ¡°The Lightmaster will see to it. And you¡­ I¡¯ve never heard of an Arcane Healer, but shouldn¡¯t you be praying as well?¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Valens paused. ¡°Why would I do that?¡±


    The woman blinked at him, before pointing at all the death around them. ¡°These people were men of faith. Their souls need guidance! Guidance only a faithful Priest can provide!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a Priest, and I don¡¯t believe in a god, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re asking,¡± Valens said.


    Nomad stopped at those words, glancing strangely at him. The woman¡¯s eyes widened as the spear slipped from her fingers and clanked onto the ground.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Valens asked the pair of them, feeling a little odd inside.


    ¡°You¡­¡± the woman¡¯s voice trembled. ¡°That beast crushed my chest! You couldn¡¯t have possibly healed me without divine grace!¡± She snapped the spear back from the ground and raised it toward Valens. ¡°Speak! You¡¯re not from Melton, are you? Where did you come from? Or are you¡­ of Baht¡¯s cult? The traitor''s spawn? If so, I shall end you now!¡±


    Nomad glared at her before shaking his head. ¡°I told you to leave her. She¡¯s gone completely mad.¡±


    ¡°Look, I don¡¯t know who this Baht is, but I don¡¯t believe in any God,¡± Valens said tiredly. ¡°And mind you, I certainly don¡¯t need any sort of divine grace to fix a patient. My skills alone are adequate enough for the job, thank you very much.¡±


    ¡°You expect me to believe that?¡± the woman said.


    Nomad patted him on the back. ¡°I know the woman¡¯s mad, but you don¡¯t have to lie, eh? We¡¯re all speaking our truths, now, don¡¯t we? Just say it. I won¡¯t judge even if you serve in a secret cult.¡±


    ¡°Hah¡­¡± Valens sighed out a long, weary breath. It seemed he had to pick every word coming out of his mouth lest he¡¯d offend people of this world. First, he was taken to be a racist by Nomad, and now this woman accused him of being a part of some twisted cult.


    What do I even say? Even though the Empire was full of bigoted fools, they never tried to force some belief over the people. That¡¯s different here, I guess?


    ¡°If I have to say something, then you can consider me as a foreigner who happened to have lost his memories. Yes. Let¡¯s go with that.¡± Valens said, and raised a hand at the woman. ¡°Let me add one more thing, though. I don¡¯t appreciate the tone you¡¯re using against me as if I¡¯m some terrible criminal with blood in my hands. As you witnessed firsthand, my job is to heal people, and I¡¯m damned good at it.¡±


    The woman tensed back at those words, lowering her spear. The poison in her bloodflow and the minor concussion around her brain likely had played a part in her sudden outbursts, but Valens had to put her in place.


    ¡°Good one.¡± Nomad winked at him. ¡°We¡¯ll talk later.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t lying¡ª You know what, It doesn¡¯t matter.¡° Valens sighed. ¡°Speaking about the truths, though, she didn¡¯t tell us anything about herself.¡±


    ¡°Why, she did!¡± Nomad sniggered. ¡°She made it completely clear that she¡¯s just some nut job. They don¡¯t have much depth, her lot. Simpleminded folk with simple values. You know, the usual twist.¡±


    ¡°Says the criminal granted a false stone,¡± the woman said.


    ¡°Tough,¡± Nomad tapped a finger into his sword. ¡°You want to see if my sword¡¯s false as well?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll smash your brainless skull right here¡ª¡°


    ¡°Enough!¡± Valens said. ¡°There isn¡¯t enough air in this cave already. I don¡¯t need you two wasting any more. Shut it.¡±


    That gave him some peace as Nomad and the woman put some distance between them, both catching his eyes in a mixture of emotions.


    Valens stared at them, managing his best scowl to keep their mouths shut. He was already in a different world and trying to understand the currents with which this place was governed. He needed not a pair of stubborn fools getting at each other for reasons he hardly cared.


    The Resonance filled into his mind almost instinctively. A well to pour his thoughts in. Or a Resonant Healer¡¯s own world of escape, Master Eldras had used to say. Different frequencies weighed over his thoughts. He looked around with his sound vision and picked out a stray tune amidst the mournful song, one that thumped rather strongly at the web of his ears.


    Oh?


    It had a strange, brutish tune to it, coming from round the next turn where muffled sounds of battle echoed. He couldn¡¯t catch the details, but it belonged to a sprawling, wavering outline that refused to settle on a fixed form. Though it lacked any touch of conscience, it still felt alive. Almost.


    ¡°Now that makes me curious,¡± he said, loud enough to catch the pair¡¯s attention trudging after him. ¡°Something¡¯s waiting there around the corner. Something strange.¡±


    ¡­¡­

 Chapter 17: The Ward

    Valens had once seen a group of old grannies soak all their clothes in a giant basin, flush them with water and soup, let them rest for a good fifteen minutes, then hang them together over a rope stretched between two houses to dry.


    This strange creature looked just like those, except it was bigger in size, and had limbs instead of sleeves. Dark tendrils stretched randomly from inside of it, dozens of them just floating about. It had no eyes, no nose, or a mouth. Nothing that suggested it was a living thing. Red words floated in and out above it.


    [Necromancer¡¯s Ward - ???]


    ¡°Bah!¡± Nomad pursed his rotten lips at it. ¡°This one¡¯s a clever one, then? He even patched the holes feeding into the main cave with Keepers.¡±


    ¡°A damned Ward,¡± the woman cursed under her breath once she saw it. She raised the spear hesitantly, creeping toward the side wall, gazing at Nomad as if she expected him to do something.


    ¡°What? You want me to handle that? Look at its tendrils! I¡¯m basically naked below the waist. They¡¯d get my bones good if I try to make a move on it. You go first.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re an undead! Don¡¯t tell me you fear a Ward.¡±


    Nomad pulled his left fist up. ¡°I don¡¯t fear that creature, woman. I just don¡¯t see a point in me going in blind. It¡¯s over Level 100. You do it. Got some good healing out of nowhere, didn¡¯t you? Pulled your ass out just when you were about to kiss the death in the lips, have we not? Show us your appreciation, then. Poke it with that stick.¡±


    Valens felt a bit odd that the shadowy mass just stood there while the two bickered back and forth. The creature almost seemed unaware. Or uncaring, now he thought about it.


    Is it alive, at all? Or capable of perception?


    ¡°Can someone tell me what the hell is that thing?¡± he voiced out the question with mild annoyance. ¡°Why does it not move?¡±


    The woman gave him a side-eyed glance, eyes raw and narrowed down. Valens then thought asking questions about things that appeared to be common knowledge probably wouldn¡¯t help him to quench the suspicion burning in those blue eyes.


    So what? I¡¯ve lost my memories, haven¡¯t I? Divine grace or not, you can¡¯t blame a man for that.


    Nomad, instead, snorted at the woman before giving him an understanding nod. He pointed a finger at the mass. ¡°I¡¯m not aware of the particulars, but you can think of that thing as a foul blend of rotten flesh animated by the Necromancer¡¯s magic. It won¡¯t do anything as long as we¡¯re out of its range.¡±


    ¡°What happens when we get close?¡±


    ¡°That¡ª¡°


    ¡°Those tendrils latch onto you,¡± the woman said through clenched teeth. ¡°And never let go.¡±


    ¡°That was my piece. You¡¯re crossing too many lines here!¡± Nomad grabbed his sword and glared into her face before turning slowly to Valens. ¡°But that¡¯s about right. They like to use these things as keepers and guards. Dangerous creations, and nasty ones too.¡±


    Interesting¡­


    Sound vision, and Resonance didn¡¯t seem to trigger it, which gave Valens some time to study its unique frequencies. He caught some new tunes there, oddly reminding him of a snake¡¯s skin that was about to be shed off. Except, the touch of tunes had a softer sound here, closer to a human¡¯s skin. Under that were the tell-tale echoes of rotten flesh, mixed with some cartilage and softened¡­ knee caps? Finger bones? Sounded like a mix of those two.


    A balmy, softened mangle of human skin, blended into three bodies¡¯ worth of flesh and some bones. That rot underneath keeps them all animated by itself. How does that work, exactly?


    Valens had seen his fair share of death during his service. He even assisted some criminal cases and got to witness creative ways of killing. But this could be the most ingenious, and yet horrifying creation he¡¯d ever laid eyes upon. A thing that shouldn¡¯t have existed.


    ¡°Let me go over my stats first,¡± he said, fingers itching as he felt around his mana pool. Healing the woman cost him more than half of his mana, some of which renewed during their brief trudge here, which put him barely above half, but he still had those levels he¡¯d gained from dealing the steelmoles.


    Show me my status.


    Name: Valens Kosthal


    Age: 22


    Race: Human (Ancient)


    Class: Arcane Healer(Ancient)


    Level: 45


    Experience: 54%


    ¡­


    Free Points: 100


    Uhh¡­ I can¡¯t get used to this.


    Seeing his name there still made his skin crawl, but he tried to look past that and focused on his stats.


    That¡¯s a lot of points.


    The moles were higher level than all of the skeletons he¡¯d come across by now, so it wasn¡¯t that surprising he got a bunch of levels from that painful sequence. Twenty levels, to be precise, which came with about one hundred stat points.


    I wonder if I should start considering the other stats?


    He gazed at the woman and Nomad, scowling in thought. By the density of their bones, the woman was likely somewhere around the same level with Nomad, and that meant she must''ve poured dozens of points into Endurance and Vitality stats as well. Her inner muscle tissues and bones were nearly harder than steel, after all.


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    That was why Valens doubted if there was any merit in focusing on other stats. Sure, he could strengthen his body by focusing on Strength, Endurance and the likes, but that would mean he would be steering away from the Intelligence and Wisdom pair. And if, and this was a big if, there were creatures out there that could pierce easily through the bones of a warrior like Nomad and this woman, then a few stats in Endurance probably wouldn¡¯t make any difference for him.


    More is always better. I should go with that.


    In the end, he poured all of his recently gained stats to where his true strength lay, namely the Intelligence and Wisdom pair, but for good measure he put ten stats into Dexterity as well. It was a useful stat that gave his body an airy feeling as if he was about to float, which also made it easier to move through this rotten cave.


    When he felt the gurgling rivers of mana pouring into his mana source, he closed his eyes in bliss and cared not whether the other two gave him strange glances.


    Feels like a cold, nice shower!


    As always, the feeling was gone after a moment, replaced by the sudden swelling in his mana source. Valens smiled, and checked his status once again.


    Name: Valens Kosthal


    Age: 22


    Race: Human (Ancient)


    Class: Arcane Healer (Ancient)


    Level: 45


    Experience: 54%


    Trait: Resonance(Ancient)


    Skills (8/10):


    Lifesurge (Master) - lvl 3


    Lifeward (Master) - lvl 3


    Blockage (Master) - lvl 1


    Light Feet (Master) - lvl 2


    Fireball (Adept) - lvl 7


    Apathy (Master) - lvl 4


    Inferno (Adept) - lvl 2


    Gale (Master) - lvl 2


    Stats:


    Endurance - 12


    Vitality-  13


    Strength - 15


    Dexterity - 25


    Intelligence - 127


    Wisdom - 63


    Free Points: 0


    General Skills (3/10):


    Laran Language (Ancient) - lvl ??


    Identify(Basic)- lvl 1


    Mana Manipulation (Master) - lvl 8


    He nearly established the 2:1 ratio with his Intelligence and Wisdom pair, which pushed his renewal rate to the maximum. He also had a few levels in some skills, especially the Fireball that had grown into Adept rating.


    Mocking my expertise, have you? Telling me that my Fireball and Inferno are not yet enough to be regarded as Master-level skills, huh?


    It had a point, though, Valens had to admit. There was something innately wrong in the Fireball''s Resonance, which must¡¯ve affected the Inferno¡¯s rating as well. He would have to take a deep look at it when he got time.


    ¡°What are we waiting for?¡± the woman said as her lips curled into a frown.


    Nomad shrugged.


    Valens raised a finger at them with a beaming smile. ¡°I¡¯m now ready to give it a try.¡±


    ¡°You do what now?¡± the woman arched an eyebrow.


    ¡°Watch,¡± Valens said, reaching to his mana source while eyeing the abomination that stood before them.


    Worst case, I have two meatheads before me. That ought to count for something.


    Fingertips blazed alive as the Fireball¡¯s frequencies bloomed in his mind. The recently changed spell had white flames mixed within its crimson, round shell. It cast a warm glow over the giant mass¡¯s sprawling form. Not only that, he could feel a certain hunger within the flames as well.


    The increase in my Intelligence stat definitely did some work.


    Something clanked. Loud. The woman¡¯s spear tip thudded against the ground. She stared at the Fireball with the same eyes she had when Valens pulled her out of the death¡¯s grip, mouth slightly opened.


    Valens nodded at her with a blank face, and flung the Fireball blazing into Ward''s body, keeping the mana threads bound to his pool.


    It streaked across the distance coated with light, sending fiery droplets about the cave that splashed and hissed against the cold walls. A fascinating shower of lights. When it came close to the wriggling tendrils the Resonance changed.


    A dozen shadowy limps made for the burning ball, quick as whips, barely making a sound. Their tips sharpened and drilled into the Fireball from different angles. A set of wet squelches sounded in Valens¡¯s mind, as if someone had poked a body of water with spearheads.


    He felt a tug on his fingers. Mana threads bounding the Fireball to his mana pool stretched tight as though they were about to snap. The tendrils were trying to suck the spell¡¯s mana dry.


    It was a good attempt, Valens had to admit, but those tendrils might have as well tried to force their way through solid steel if they thought they could best a Resonant Healer¡¯s control. A smile parted his lips. He forced more mana through the bond and shelled the threads with broader, thicker mana strings to keep the spell active.


    That done, he managed a Lifeward around the Fireball to track every movement of the tendrils'' invisible teeth. They nibbled stubbornly at the outer strings and tried to find their way into the spell¡¯s core. Valens waved a contemptuous hand when they tore off a dozen holes in the outer shell. It took him but a moment to patch them back.


    Finally, the Fireball crashed into the main mass of the Ward. A shrill shriek exploded in the Resonance, barely felt by Nomad and the woman from the blank looks on their faces. They were busy staring at the Ward¡¯s body within which now blazed a ball of crimson fury with wanton abandonment.


    ¡°Holy Spirits,¡± the woman mumbled weakly, one hand clenched tight around the spear. It took her a moment to tear her gaze away from the creature to glance back at Valens. ¡°You¡­ You¡¯re not a Priest but a Mage?!¡±


    ¡°Oh, he¡¯s both of those things alright,¡± Nomad sneered at her. He seemed strangely proud of him, of Valens being a healer and a mage both, as if it was a feat they¡¯d only decided to disclose now just to grant a moment of pure shock to the woman.


    Valens would¡¯ve cherished her reaction a touch more had it not for the sudden pull at the mana strings. He cast his gaze upon the creature and saw it withdraw all its tendrils. They blended seamlessly back into the mass, shadows squirming as they warped into a single, uniform shape that seemed somewhere between a human and an undead.


    ¡°Oh, it''s pissed,¡± Nomad said, raising his sword, urging the woman with a glare. ¡°Get your spear up, woman, and pull that head out of your ass. The bastard¡¯s coming.¡±


    The woman fumbled with the spear¡¯s shaft and moved shakily over to Nomad. She stole a glance from Valens, eyebrows dancing, before regarding the now humanoid Ward with a spear pointed at its chest where the Fireball still burned.


    Valens watched with his face twisted up in confusion. Picking the tunes of the creature¡¯s Resonance was like exploring a house built over on a small piece of rock. It just didn¡¯t make any sense how it was all holding up. How, indeed, was that small lump of rotten mana guiding the creature as though a miniature brain that lacked any sort of thought?


    It certainly wasn¡¯t capable of feeling pain. That much was made clear to him. The Fireball still squirmed in the thick of its patched-up body, but it seemed hardly aware. When Valens tried to see if he could set the creature¡¯s whole body ablaze by letting the Fireball explode within its chest, that rotten mana somehow pressed upon the spell like an invisible palm.


    Using my trick against me, are you?


    The rotten mana shifted. The Ward¡¯s feet were planted on the ground, then they were off, then the creature was making a cut through Nomad and the woman in a streak of lusterless black. Valens had been keeping an ear over its frequencies, trying to understand the shift, trusting the two meatheads before him to keep him safe on the account that the creature would have a humanoid way of fighting.


    That, unfortunately, seemed like a grave mistake.


    It was coming at him, now, and coming at him fast like a spear drilling through the air.


    ¡­..

 Chapter 18: Deep Inside

    Valens scrambled away as he let go of the Fireball, pulled his palms up and used Light Feet to throw himself back. He banged the side of his head to the wall, tasted metal in his mouth, sucked at his gums and swallowed the slimy spit in his throat. That proved to be one of the best bargains in his lifetime when the black streak flashed past him and stabbed into the back wall. It drilled half-way in and ground the solid stone into fine dust.


    His stomach felt strange when he thought about an alternative scenario in which he was the one who got drilled through the middle. His skin was painfully softer than a stone wall, after all.


    ¡°What did you do?¡± Nomad rasped as he stretched a hand out toward him, Valens taking it and pulling himself wincing up his feet. ¡°It wasn¡¯t supposed to do that.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯ve got a way with these creatures, then?¡± Valens said. ¡°Tell me more. As you can see, we¡¯ve hardly had a promising start.¡±


    ¡°Incoming!¡± The woman¡¯s voice had a harder tinge to it now that she stood all alone against the Ward. It¡¯d come out of the hole and warped itself yet again to that humanoid form, two eyeless sockets gazing at the woman¡¯s spear.


    It moved. A limb flashed out from its chest and smacked into the woman¡¯s spear, sending her reeling, shattering every bit of confidence she¡¯d carried on her face. Her stance broke and the spear nearly flew out of her grip. She steeled herself with a grunt, pulled the weapon up and stepped hesitantly back, giving Nomad a biting glance.


    ¡°This woman¡¯s gonna be the end of me,¡± Nomad grumbled. He patted Valens on the shoulder and raised his sword, green fog rolling off his shoulders. ¡°Things happen, Val, and you¡¯re not even level 50. No shame in that.¡±


    ¡°What about the woman?¡± Valens muttered, heart thumping in his chest. ¡°I can¡¯t see her level¡ª¡°


    ¡°She¡¯s 88. I got ten levels over her, but she¡¯ll be alright. Promise,¡± Nomad said, and clicked his jaw. ¡°I¡¯m going in. Stay back.¡±


    Nomad leapt over to the pair and slid slowly closer to the Ward, giving the woman a chance to breathe. He shrugged the green fog off his shoulders and let it splash across the ground in an ethereal carpet, armored feet barely making a sound as he moved in.


    The Ward¡¯s response to the new challenger was to send another limb forth. It lashed over with unimaginable speed, aiming for Nomad¡¯s sword. In response, a sickly, slimy green tongue shot from the ground, and caught it in mid-air, dragging it closer to Nomad. He crushed the shadowy limb under his armored feet, and cleaved it away with his sword for good measure.


    He let out a throaty, rasping roar, his long steel gleaming dangerously sharp. He dodged another limb on his way, moved round it and stabbed the sword into the Ward¡¯s mass. The tip sent a shower of sparks about it. He ducked under a sweeping, screaming streak that aimed for his head, wrenched the sword free and brought it up in a nasty thrust for Ward''s chin.


    Back and forth they went at it. Two limbs of different natures clashed. Nomad blocked where he could, stabbed when he found a chance, crushed whatever shadowy tricks the Ward had tried.


    It almost seemed he was a bad match for the Ward, unlike how he put it. That was odd, was what Valens was thinking. Unreliable and rather strange he might be, but the undead hadn¡¯t seemed like a man who¡¯d lie in the matters of brutal exchanges.


    The woman had finally decided to keep him company, going for a thrust of her own, the spear widening the holes torn by Nomad¡¯s sword over the Ward''s body. Not much of an effect, Valens had to say. She sweated like a dog. She huffed and wheezed more than usual. She hardly seemed able to keep up with the speed of the fighting.


    Going against your Healer¡¯s word was never wise. That was one thing. But then, circumstances often changed. Valens could see the poison working its way through the woman¡¯s blood flow, making her falter or drop in times she least expected, making her clumsy, turning her mind all foggy and slow.


    He couldn¡¯t use a Lifesurge over this far, not that a Lifesurge could immediately force the poison out, and Nomad was giving more and more openings the longer the fight dragged on. Valens felt a twinge of guilt whenever the Ward aimed at his naked legs. A full plate would¡¯ve at least given him a peace of mind instead of forcing him to cover for his plateless openings.


    What do I do?


    Valens flexed his aching hands and glanced over to the fight. He could send another Fireball and hope that it wouldn¡¯t catch the woman or Nomad on its way. Or a Gale to twist things up a little just to give his side a moment of relief. There was also the possibility of casting an Inferno to set everything ablaze.


    Certainly a reliable option, one that I should keep as a last resort.


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    He could guide some mana threads to bind the creature, or cast a Gravitating Earth to trap him into the ground, but it had a slippery, changing form that Valens couldn¡¯t be sure if that¡¯d work. His spells didn¡¯t seem to do much, either way. The Fireball from earlier had just burned there within the creature as a candle might burn over on a table. Some lights and warmth, was what it had all managed to accomplish.


    Through the Resonance, he tried to catch the minute mutterings of the rotten mana. That was what kept the creature animated. If he could somehow impress upon that mana his own control then theoretically he could do whatever he wanted with the damned thing.


    Trouble was, he had no idea what to make of it. It was close to death mana, but felt completely different as well.


    It pulses each second like a heart, thumping loud when the Ward sends a limb forth. There¡¯s a slight disconnection when it does that. A gap in the Resonance. Perhaps I can use that?


    The ambient mana stirred. Valens felt it close in his chest. He trailed the Resonance and saw the woman¡¯s skin had gone slick with sweat. Her bones cried in a muffled, pained set of frequencies. Her left elbow clicked out of its place, sending a jolt that trailed down through her ribcage. Something was not right with her blood flow. It was almost boiling.


    ¡°Stop whatever it is that you¡¯re doing!¡± Valens yelled at her. ¡°You¡¯re going to kill yourself!¡±


    Smoke wafted off her fingers, her cheeks, and her arms. She clenched the spear tight and strutted out to face the Ward, face twisted up in cold fury. When a shadowy limb made for her, she tried to swat it away with the spear. The wooden shaft cracked, and sent the woman stumbling back.


    Except she leaned forward, somehow pushing up against the shadowy streak. Nomad was about to tear it off, but paused when the woman glared at her. Her eyes were dark. Some color had smeared her pupils in a reddish, crimson bleak. She huffed out a rasping breath and threw the spear bits away. She lunged in and drove a fist into the Ward¡¯s face.


    ¡°Mad! Mad! Mad!¡± Nomad let out a whistle as he blocked two shadowy limbs with his green fog. His emerald eyes snapped to Valens for a second. ¡°Told you she¡¯s mad! We¡¯ve got a Berserker in our hands!¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that mean?¡± Valens asked, but perked up when he caught a shift in the Ward¡¯s Resonance. The moment the woman¡¯s fist found purchase in one of the gaping holes round its body, a sudden gap had opened in the rhythm of that rotten mana. A longer, scattered gap, which meant opportunity.


    Hesitation is the enemy here. Trust your instincts. It will work.


    Valens sprang forward, Lifesurge threads tingling the tip of his fingers. He moved round the green blanket of fog, coming at the Ward from a side that he hoped it wouldn¡¯t catch. Nomad eyed him with doubt. Valens gestured at him to do something that¡¯d aid the woman. She was screaming her life out under a barrage of tendrils.


    Nomad grumbled and swung at the Ward, the sword clanking harmlessly off its steely skin. When that didn¡¯t work, he rammed a plated shoulder into its torso and hauled the sword in an overhead grip to take a sweep at it.


    That gave Valens the time to cut down the distance. He was close now, a few steps away from the Ward¡¯s side. If he could touch it, if he could send the Lifesurge threads into the creature¡¯s body¡ª


    Thousands of dark streaks filled the cave. They caught the woman and riddled her with holes, spattering her face in a shower of her own blood and pain of her muffled cry. Nomad¡¯s helmet got a thick, wriggling tendril going through it. It nearly split his skull. Two others had him from below the armpits, lifting him high as if he weighed nothing more than an empty sack.


    More were coming at Valens. Dozens of them lunging across the distance with sharpened tips. He threw himself sideways with a Light Feet, kicked the wall and scrambled back¡­ back from the chaos. Pain bloomed in the Resonance. A familiar agony sparked alive just below his ribcage.


    He gazed down at his chest and saw the dark tendril wiggling its way through his flesh.


    Blood was streaming from the sides of the wound, soiling his robe.


    He choked out a scream.


    The pain filled his head with blinding lights.


    He blinked to try and force his will over the panicked Resonance. Tried to pick a set and focus on his mind to mute down the pain. He could feel bits of the dark limb slithering inside his chest, tiny snakes worming their way through his bloodstream toward his heart. The core. The source of his song.


    Fingers blazed. A Gale picked up and lashed at the tendril. Inferno¡¯s song roared, but the flames fizzled out the moment they came into existence. Valens coughed out blood and wheezed back trembling. It was cold, and got colder still, until he finally wrapped his hands around the limb and tried to wrench it away.


    There wasn¡¯t much strength left in his fingers. Not much of anything, for that matter. His blood ran cold, and warm, and cold again. Blood pooled inside his mouth. His whole body shook.


    Even then, Apathy was stitching the holes of emotions opened round its hardened shell. A Resonant Healer¡¯s mind was strong. Stronger than pain, Master Eldras had once told him.


    Valens forced himself to blink through it all and called out a pair of Lifesurges. This close, with skin contact to the creature, he could feel that rotten, foul mana like a breath hissing at the nape of his neck. It was there, within reach. Pain was just a price he had to pay.


    Lifesurge threads oozed into the tendril around where it stabbed him. Someone shouted. A sword¡¯s steely song got cut off sharply. Valens couldn¡¯t catch any of it. His whole mind was focused solely on the mana that animated this twisted creature.


    More sounds over a squashed, muffled rhythm. Guiding the surge threads around the Ward¡¯s assembly of rotten flesh was like picking his way through the bowels of the earth. He was blind. He¡¯d never been blind in his whole life. Every turn and twist had a lingering, rotten trickle that fought back against his life mana.


    His chest heaved. Breath caught in his throat. The Lifesurge threads, the ever benign and helpful life mana strings, started assaulting the rotten mana spheres. Valens didn¡¯t have to do anything. He just felt through the Resonance alone the brutal invasion seize the Ward¡¯s shadowy limb inch by inch.


    Then there was light.


    His vision came back to him as the life mana conquered valuable space.


    It filled his head with a dreamy, wavering illusion of a maze, one that housed terrible spheres of rot and thousands of paths that went nowhere.


    Valens saw it all and sent more mana to his Lifesurge threads, bolstering their growing bloodlust.


    ¡­¡­.

 Chapter 19: Powering Through

    The two forces clashed as Valens tried to keep his hold from slipping away. Blood was precious for a reason, and he was too deep in the Ward¡¯s body to manage a Lifesurge to tend his wounds. The delicate balance was hanging over a thin rope, and losing it meant certain death.


    He felt a stubborn insistence rose within him. He would keep at it. End this creature for good, then take a look at that gaping hole. Just another wound. Yes. He¡¯d fixed broken men all his life and could fix himself just as he¡¯d done before.


    Clenching his teeth, he gazed deep into the Ward¡¯s body, feeling the strange movements of the rotten source. Death mana had always laid in a lull in the Resonance, its song one clear tune that lost its rhythm ever so slowly, but here, it had a stronger, wilder set of frequencies that thrummed in Valens¡¯s ears.


    An unnatural strength that seemed to be coming from beyond.


    Something or someone was feeding this creature. That was the only explanation. And life mana was responding with fury against it.


    These two different sources almost seemed as if they were made to clash, Valens thought, even if mana was supposed to be this mindless, emotionless energy. Like water spilled over on a burning bonfire, the Resonance hissed deep in his mind. The fleshy maze grew wide and weak, the bony walls flexing into a stretch that allowed Lifesurge threads to course free.


    On their way, they came across more rotten mana spheres. Valens noted the change in them. That how weak they felt. That how aimlessly they hung there, now that the Lifesurges had slashed them apart from the main trickle that fed them.


    One tendril wasn¡¯t enough. He had to dig his way to the main mass of the Ward, where he hoped he would find the real core of this foul energy, and fix this freakish creation that defied nature like how he would fix a cut on a patient¡¯s arm.


    Stronger resistance on the way. Clanking of a sword and a brutal tear of a roar that dinned sharp in his ears. The woman¡¯s cry, a warrior¡¯s cry, one that carried nothing but a deep, hot fury. Nomad was screaming at her. Alive, then. That was a relief.


    Valens wanted to open his eyes and see them for himself, to tell them that he was trying to end this creature for good. He couldn¡¯t. He feared that the moment he let the outside fill into his vision, the delicate threads of Apathy weaved across his emotions would break, and pain would spill forth like a crashing wave. Here, in the dark, it was away. A stray thought that was cast off from his mind like an unwanted guest.


    Lifesurge threads reached the end of the tendril. The Resonance had told him so. Threads of it found their way into the main mass of the creature. A Lifeward painted its outer frame in Valens¡¯s sound vision. Human-like, but not quite. It didn¡¯t have a heart. Any organs or such. Bones were missing where they should be, replaced by a blend of cartilage and rotten flesh patched over with an ungodly amount of balmy skin.


    One, two¡­ ten¡­ eighty. A total of one hundred fifteen gaps in the Resonance, scattered across the creature¡¯s body where it sent the tendrils outward. Valens didn¡¯t have the mana to pull them apart one by one. Not when the Ward could easily patch them with more rotten sources. He had to find the hole that the woman had opened, the one that screamed closer to its head.


    A long way, Valens thought. His chest felt empty, a well about to dry out. He didn¡¯t know if his Lifesurges could reach that far. He didn¡¯t know, but then he¡¯d done many things without concrete information before. Just one more to the pile. This time a dangerous one, it looked like.


    Ding! [Lifesurge(Master): 3 > 4]


    Ding! [Lifeward(Master) : 3 > 4]


    The faint sound seemed to add some depth to the surge threads. Something palpable, as if the frequencies of the strings had been granted a deeper sound. It wasn¡¯t much, but Valens would take it. He needed all he could get right now.


    Around the stomach, right below the ribcage, the Lifesurge threads splashed into a river of yellow rot. It wound into dozens of streams that ran through the holes of the fleshy maze, guided by some invisible force toward the tendrils to keep them animated. Valens thought for a second to seal the holes to keep the river inside but decided against it when he saw how many of them dotted the walls.


    Onward, up through the sloshing waves, the Lifesurge threads cleaved a path like a counter-current of pristine clarity through the rot, spearheaded by a tight web of strings that Valens kept renewing with his mana pool. A little slip, then the rot would wash over the Lifesurges and drown them in waves.


    He never wavered. His hold around his mind remained hard as steel.


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    Metal scraped against the cold, wet earth. Breaking stones. Steel singing songs. Green fog¡¯s touch, oddly similar to the rotten mana but different in a curious way, cradled Valens like a warm hug. Nomad grunted, followed by the sharp whistle of his sword.


    Shadows stirred. Shadows fell. Someone screamed.


    Valens kept at the threads, forcing them stubbornly up through the Ward¡¯s mass. The rotten river¡¯s touch was biting. It grew more insistent. A weight over the Resonance. It tried to trick his mind ever so slightly, like an insidious snake that aimed at the Archmagus in him. Talking about mysteries. Giving out promises. What was there beyond the veil? What was this foul energy? What if he let it seep inside his body?


    Eats away the mind.


    But this was no Warmagic. Nothing like Valens had ever known. Yet its sound was most alluring. It forced itself upon Apathy and lingered there. So long as he willed it, so long as he wanted it, it would become his own. Or Valens would become it. There was a difference.


    The Resonance ruptured, gaps streaking across its rhythm. Thousands of voices echoed inside his mind. He could hear them. Life over death, and death over life. A hideous mix. Coming from all around the membrane that sheltered a ball of pure yellow, full of rot and pus and death.


    He paused as he faced the source in his sound vision. This was the core that kept every bit of the Ward¡¯s body being fed. Where was the string, then? The thread that¡¯d bound it to the real source, the one that supplied all this energy to the core?


    There.


    So small was the strand that he almost couldn¡¯t catch it. It dangled from over the core, hidden inside an ethereal fog wafting off from the sizzling rot, its tip bound to the roof of the molten core. The Resonance pulsed, and so pulsed the strand with it. It was feeding the Ward constantly.


    When Valens tried to trail it to the real source, he lost its sound just where the string vanished into the Ward¡¯s head. It stretched somewhere he couldn¡¯t reach. Not now with him as he is now.


    He then willed the Lifesurge threads to lash at the part he could see. They clawed over the core and slashed across the strand with cold obedience. The fleshy walls and the rot within the core squirmed as the source line trembled with the impact. And yet it held true, the Lifesurge threads bouncing harmlessly back.


    Again, he tried, but the strand remained rooted. It was as though he was trying to sever a metal pipe with a pair of blunt knives. He couldn¡¯t put a dent to it, let alone cut into its hardened shell. The difference in strength was one that he couldn¡¯t overcome with pure will alone.


    So he searched for a different course, sending a Lifeward to the core. The painted picture in his mind was one that described a round, sturdy shell, its outer layer clad in a wave of rot so thick that it could eat away the Lifesurge threads with ease. It was almost seamless. Almost, but not quite.


    There was an opening.


    Valens guided the Lifesurge threads there, over to the core¡¯s roof where the lifeline strand had been strapped with a tight knot into the rotten source. He might¡¯ve failed to cut into the line itself, but so long as he untied those loops, he could leave the Ward all dried out.


    The moment he reached it, an invisible force weighed on his control. He seemed to hear a surprised voice right then, a wicked voice. It died away instantly, replaced by the sudden outburst of rot that spurted out of the core. A giant wave of foul mana threatened to drown the Lifesurge threads.


    Valens twitched.


    Panic grabbed at him, rattling the cage of his chest. He was too tired and too battered to mount a resistance against something this big.


    There was no end to it. No¡ª


    A strong hand weighed over his shoulder. It clutched him there and held him.


    Nomad¡­


    ¡°To the Healer!¡± Valens heard him say, voice muffled, barely oozing through his focus. ¡°It''s aiming at him. Distract that creature, woman. Listen to me¡­ Listen! I need you here right there on that fucker¡¯s face!¡±


    A furious roar answered the call.


    The air boiled with sudden heat.


    Somewhere something hard crashed into the Ward¡¯s skin. Fingers punctured through the shell and sent the rotten wave flailing away.


    Focus.


    Valens wasted no time to stretch one of the Lifesurges into a tight web, laying it over the other surge threads that were trying to untie the knot. The scattered wave of rot splashed across the newly formed net, hissing, sizzling, trying to bite in, but failing as the surge threads preserved on.


    Slowly, painfully he worked the battered Lifesurge threads round the knot. The strand was pulsing still, but it was softer around here, almost delicate enough to give him some chance. It took him a long moment to pluck the first one away.


    Once that was done, the rest started coming out on their own.


    The Apathy broke.


    Everything spilled through the cracks and stabbed into his mind.


    His eyes cracked open.


    He was lying there staring at the ceiling with his body screaming and his throat dry, his skin lifelessly cold around where the blood dried round his wound. He tried to breathe, but there was no air. Nothing left in his lungs. A soundless, painful cry parted his lips. His chest burned when he called for a Lifesurge. He had barely any mana left.


    He doubled over with the stub of a tendril still deep in his stomach. The other part of the shadowy limp lay a few inches before him, carved by something sharp. Beyond its tip Nomad and the woman were thrashing the melting, bubbling form of the Ward with steel and fists.


    ¡®Ding¡¯ You have managed to defeat [The Necromancer¡¯s Ward - lvl 108]! For killing a creature above your own level, you are granted bonus experience.


    You have leveled up! 5 Stat Points granted!


    You have leveled up! 5 Stat Points granted!


    You have leveled up! 5 Stat Points granted!


    You have leveled up! 5 Stat Points granted!


    ¡­


    You have leveled up! 5 Stat Points granted!


    Ding! [Lifesurge(Master): 4 > 5]


    Ding! [Lifeward(Master): 4 > 5]


    Ding!  [Apathy (Master): 4 > 5]


    Valens slumped back to the ground, some pressure behind his ears, his vision a mess of dancing lights. He faintly heard the sounds, then the world grew dim and dimmer still, until it had become completely dark.


    ¡­¡­

 Chapter 20: Aftermath

    ¡°What does the Bloodsong say?¡± Master Eldras asked, one hand over his chest and the other tapping an expectant finger on the tip of his nose. He seemed not all too bothered that the patient who was lying over the stretcher was about to drown in his own blood.


    A bullet had caught the man below the chin, carved a bloody path through the sinews, and got stuck there, half of it likely snapped off in the process.


    Valens glanced at his Master, and then down at the patient, stretching a hand out toward the pair of Wards placed near the bullet that pulsed with mana. When he touched one of them, Resonance filled his mind with a gurgling, sloshing set of frequencies that lacked any sort of rhythm.


    ¡°I need some crystal water!¡± he demanded to the pair of assistant healers watching intently from the back. One of them bolted forward, swept a bottle of pure water from the counter, and presented it almost vehemently to him with both palms supporting the heel of the bottle.


    Valens reached out to it and cursed when his Warded fingers trembled as he took it. He shaded it with a mighty frown, a foolish part of him hoping Master Eldras hadn¡¯t caught his small slip even as the other, more experienced part knew how keen the Chief Healer¡¯s ears were. His command over the Resonance was such that even an ant crawling beyond the shutters of the tent sounded like the march of a wild elephant to him.


    ¡°Steady,¡± Master Eldras said. A single word, which proved enough to force Valens to focus back on the operation.


    He washed the wound with crystal water and wiped the Wards¡¯s surface to get a clearer song this time, handing the emptied bottle to one of the assistants. He then grasped the Wards with both hands and closed his eyes.


    The Bloodsong came right away.


    It painted a rather disturbing picture in his sound vision. One that made little sense. The bullet had torn a good part of the main artery feeding the brain, lodged there into the blood flow like a set that blocked off the greater part of the stream. Most of the blood that should¡¯ve gone up through the artery was now spurting out in waves that clouded the Bloodsong even though he¡¯d just cleaned the wound.


    By all means, the man should¡¯ve been dead. In the brain and the body both, to Valens¡¯s thinking. And yet his chest rose and fell in small waves. Breath wheezed weakly through his lips, like how air might leak out through a tiny hole in a giant air balloon.


    ¡°How is this possible?¡± Valens muttered, fascinated by the discovery. It seemed, rather strangely, that once they fixed the torn-off sinews the man could be whole again.


    ¡°How, indeed,¡± Master Eldras said, a small smile gracing his lips. He motioned for Valens to step back, and checked each Lifesurge - ring-shaped Wards - on his fingers before giving him a look. ¡°Watch,¡± he said.


    Valens breathed in deep and opened his eyes wide, fearing that if he blinked even for a second he might miss out on something important. Books and cadavers of all kinds only taught him so much. He¡¯d learned more in his single year of service here in the field than the eight long years he¡¯d spent in the Institute.


    As always, Master Eldras worked with practiced efficiency and such ease that left the pair of assistants sighing around his back. Valens himself was spellbound as he caught the minute changes happening in the Resonance as Chief Healer stitched those arteries back with precision.


    It took him perhaps a touch longer than five minutes to fix the broken tissue back to smooth. The new skin had a rosy, healthy glint about it. Nothing, not even a single tear had been left on the side of the man¡¯s throat. The bloody bullet itself had been removed and placed in a plate.


    ¡°Exquisite work as usual, Master,¡± Valens said and bowed his head in genuine respect. The assistants nearly clapped, only to remember where they were and instead settled for a bow of their own.


    Valens then thought, almost involuntarily, that perhaps he would never reach this level of mastery in his lifetime. He was fourteen years old, and by all means considered a genius amongst his peers, having studied under Master Eldras for long years. Everybody knew the Chief Healer had taken him under his wings even if Valens kept his surname a secret, but little did they know this came with its own problems.


    His Master expected more from him. So much more than was perhaps reasonable. He wished for Valens to go beyond what he¡¯d himself accomplished in a lifetime of success, and Valens knew he had to do it.


    He owed a debt to this man that he could never hope to repay.


    But how could anyone contend with such control? Such expertise and mastery over the field that had been witnessed only once in the past hundreds of years?


    ¡°Thank you, gentlemen, but I¡¯m afraid we¡¯re not done yet,¡± Master Eldras said and gazed deeply at the patient¡¯s now still face.


    Valens arched an eyebrow at those words. The work had been nothing short of perfect, every cut and tear had been fixed with impeccable focus. The patient¡¯s breathing was coming out in deep, long sighs. His chest rose and fell in a constant rhythm. What more could have been done? The man should wake up at any moment now.


    Except he didn¡¯t.


    Master Eldras gestured for him to check the Wards. Valens then smacked himself mentally. Of course, there was always the chance of invisible damage in a race of seconds. The brain might¡¯ve died during the operation.


    When he checked the Resonance, though, he didn¡¯t get the expected scattered, gapped rhythm. Instead, he got a strong, thumping one that had no audible holes. In fact, it had been strengthened, bolstered by Master Eldras¡¯s life mana waves back to how it should be.


    Why, then, did the man refuse to wake up?


    Valens searched his Master¡¯s eyes for an answer.


    ¡°Some men are of a different quality than others,¡± Master Eldras said, his voice deep. ¡°These are men dedicated to their mission, stubborn men that tend to go against what we know as common sense and march with a perseverance so strong that they can deny the very concept of death.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± Valens swallowed. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that doesn¡¯t make any sense, Master.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m aware of that fact, Valens. That¡¯s why I¡¯m infatuated with this field!¡± Master Eldras chuckled. ¡°We Magi tend to seek tangible answers to every question that has ever been asked or has yet to be asked. That¡¯s why sometimes we have trouble understanding what governs a man¡¯s heart. Love. Hate. Stubbornness. Can you hold these things to the same ground as trees, rocks, or the very earth upon which we stand?¡±


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t think so?¡±


    ¡°Well, you don¡¯t, but we all know that they¡¯re unmistakably real!¡± Master Eldras said. He stretched a hand out to the patient and pointed with a finger to the man¡¯s heart. ¡°And now, we have one such specimen here. A stubborn patient who doesn¡¯t know when he should be dead, or alive.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s alive,¡± Valens answered instantly. ¡°The Resonance¡ª¡°


    ¡°I know what the Resonance says, Valens,¡± Master Eldras said. ¡°The real question is, does this man know that he has managed to accomplish something many deemed impossible?¡±


    Valens eyed the man. He had a peaceful expression on his face, and yet the side of his mouth was tight as if a part of him still fought a desperate battle somewhere deep in his mind.


    ¡°Perhaps he¡¯s too lost in his own mind?¡± was Valens¡¯s answer, though he said with all the doubt in his heart.


    Master Eldras flicked a finger into his face. ¡°That¡¯s right! There is your answer!¡± He then clenched his fist and pulled it high. His eyes glinted mischievously. ¡°Now, let us give that brain the good news, shall we?¡±


    ¡°What¡ª¡°


    Valens couldn¡¯t finish his words as Master Eldras brought his fist down and slammed it hard into the man¡¯s chest.


    The patient jerked up with a gasping, wheezing breath. His eyes went round and turned, and he shook and trembled. Master Eldras patted him on the back, but his eyes were fixed on Valens.


    ¡°And you,¡± he said, his wrinkled face starting to melt and drip in big droplets to the ground. ¡°Perhaps it¡¯s time for you to wake up as well, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    An armored fist crashed through the white walls and shredded everything in his vision. His chest roared with pain, Resonance screamed in his mind, and a rasping, rotten breath splashed across his face.


    ¡°Wake. Up. Val!¡± Nomad hauled his hand up in the air, fingers curled painfully tight in a fist that oozed with strength. Valens¡¯s bones almost groaned on their own as they expected another crushing, crumbling force to break their cage.


    ¡°He¡¯s awake!¡± came the woman¡¯s voice, tired and weak. ¡°Stop it, or you¡¯re going to kill him for good!¡±


    ¡°Awake?¡± Nomad¡¯s emerald eyes blinked down at him. ¡°Then why the fuck didn¡¯t you say something?!¡±


    ¡°I-I¡ª¡° Valens tried to speak, but choked on his own spit, spattering words that didn¡¯t make any sense. He tried to lift himself up, only to slump back down when his whole body rattled with brutal pain.


    ¡°Fix yourself first,¡± Nomad said to him, and then Valens saw him release a long, weary breath.


    He first reached for the mana well within his chest. A small trickle, with new drops dripping down from the roof of the pool. Not enough for a Lifesurge. Nothing to ease the pain around the hole in his stomach.


    Fingers trembling, he tried to jerk himself into a position that¡¯d allow him to reach for his thigh, winced when a sharp pain jabbed at his core the moment he shifted. His vision was a blurry, messy set of lines that spun in mad circles.


    He gasped when his index finger brushed against one of the gemstones. He pulled it free from the veins and focused on it. Lifemana poured into the drained well. Valens hastily managed a Lifeward to check the damage and blinked when he felt the flesh stir around the edges of the hole.


    His body was trying to heal itself, though it was painfully slow and inefficient.


    A Lifesurge accelerated the process. He locked his emotions with teeth clenched and re-attached the broken veins before moving onto the deeper parts of his body. Lifemana threads consumed the little rotten worms that lay senseless across his blood flow and nourished his broken bones.


    There was no damage around his heart, which came as a relief and allowed him to finish the operation with a large stitch over the hole. The skin grew in a visible rate under the flush of Lifesurge threads, leaving only the dried streaks of his own blood.


    The thought came instantly the moment he let the threads dissolve.


    He was in deep need of a good shower.


    A hot one, preferably.


    ¡°That was a good trick,¡± Nomad said, emerald eyes gazing deeply at him. His helmet was gone. The chest piece had a long, deep tear running across it. But what really caught Valens¡¯s interest was the crack that nearly split his skull open, barely visible under the thick wave of green fog. Bits of it crunched as the fog worked around it.


    ¡°I saw that tendril go through your head,¡± Valens muttered, still slightly shaken as he leaned back to the cold wall. The pain might¡¯ve gone, but his mind kept replaying every part of the fight with gruesome clarity.


    He should¡¯ve been dead. Gone for good. And yet looked like somehow something stubborn in him had managed to clutch onto life.


    ¡°The Everfog protected me,¡± Nomad said sourly and waved a hand as if he didn¡¯t want to talk about it. Then he pointed at the woman lying a few paces behind them, eyes bleary and face deathly pale. ¡°Can¡¯t say the same for our mad friend, though. Think you can help her?¡±


    Valens scowled the moment he saw the woman¡¯s state. Her recently recovered armor was riddled with holes. Her blond hair was spattered in wet, thick clumps around her scalp, blood dripping down from their tips. There was barely any breath left in her body, but her blue eyes still carried that stubborn glint.


    Still alive.


    ¡°Give me a hand,¡± Valens said and took Nomad¡¯s hand to get himself up. He walked over with shaky, hesitant steps, his feet feeling strange against the ground. They were still bare. He liked it that way. The cold touch around his skin told him he was alive, still breathing.


    A Lifeward and a set of Lifesurges had consumed half of the lifemana inside the gemstone. The other half went to the woman¡¯s battered body. Valens clicked his tongue when he felt how strange her blood felt around his surges. It was boiling hot. Dangerous. Perhaps that was the reason why she immediately came to herself when he was done with the operation.


    ¡°Thank the--,¡± she muttered, voice hoarse and heavy, before closing her mouth shut. She then stared across the pair of them. Her gaze lingered on Valens as she sighed out a long breath. ¡°I¡¯ve not yet decided whether you¡¯re a gift or a curse.¡±


    Valens glanced at Nomad.


    Nomad shrugged. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have told her that you¡¯re a godless bastard. That¡¯s why she doesn¡¯t know what to say.¡±


    ¡°Eh? A simple thank you would¡¯ve been enough.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t thank a Priest for healing you here in Melton. You thank their Blessed Father who granted that Priest the gift of healing,¡± Nomad said, one hand resting on the sword¡¯s handle. ¡°You know, divine grace is given, not taken, and all nonsense. Which makes you an oddball, if you¡¯ve been fair about that godless part, that is.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve not lied.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t say you did.¡±


    ¡°You were getting at it¡ª¡°


    ¡°No, I was just saying.¡± Nomad winked at him and hauled the sword back to his shoulder. ¡°Now, if our mad berserker is all healed and well, can we continue on? I¡¯ve been delayed enough already. My Heartstone¡¯s about to explode.¡±


    ¡°Celme,¡± the woman muttered as she rose slowly to her feet and checked the holes around her armor. She then nodded at them. ¡°That¡¯s my name.¡±


    ¡°Bah!¡± Nomad rolled his eyes at her. ¡°And I was just about to forgive you for not telling us that you were a damned berserker! But now? You¡¯re making my bones rattle with that grateful look on your face. Lose that.¡±


    Celme¡¯s lips twitched. ¡°I know my way around stitches. Want me to fix that crack in your skull, undead?¡±


    ¡°My Lord¡¯s fog does that for me, thanks,¡± Nomad snorted.


    ¡°Can you, just¡­¡± Valens rubbed his neck tiredly. ¡°Please? Just now I had a terrible beast nearly run me through. I can use a moment of peace.¡±


    ¡°Then we shall provide it unto our precious healer,¡± Nomad said and clapped him on the back before leaning closer to him. His face grew serious as he whispered. ¡°About that trick you used against the Ward¡­¡±


    ¡°What of it?¡±


    Nomad gave him a heavy glance before shaking his head. ¡°Forget it. Just a stupid thought¡­ Anyway, it''s still better for you to try not to use it around too many people. They don¡¯t like anything related to myths and legends around this part of the world. Especially the old ones.¡±


    Before Valens could ask him why, he raised an armored hand to the air and motioned them forward. ¡°We move!¡± he growled and bounded away.


    ¡°Get up, healer,¡± Celme said as she followed Nomad, glancing over her shoulder. ¡°We might have to rely on your strange¡­ abilities on the way.¡±


    Her sharp gaze pierced into Valens¡¯s eyes one last time before she joined the undead. That left him alone back there, all confused and restless until he decided to shake himself off.


    I¡¯ll get my answers when I get out of here.


    Before that, though, he remembered getting some notifications during the fight.


    Right¡­ There were a lot of notifications.


    ¡­¡­.

 Chapter 21: The Main Cave

    Name: Valens Kosthal


    Age: 22


    Race: Human (Ancient)


    Class: Arcane Healer (Ancient)


    Level: 54


    Experience: 38%


    Trait: Resonance(Ancient)


    Skills (8/10):


    Lifesurge (Master) - lvl 5


    Lifeward (Master) - lvl 5


    Blockage (Master) - lvl 1


    Light Feet (Master) - lvl 2


    Fireball (Adept) - lvl 7


    Apathy (Master) - lvl 5


    Inferno (Adept) - lvl 2


    Gale (Master) - lvl 2


    Stats:


    Endurance - 12


    Vitality- 13


    Strength - 15


    Dexterity - 25


    Intelligence - 173


    Wisdom - 87


    Free Points: 45


    General Skills (3/10):


    Laran Language (Ancient) - lvl ??


    Identify(Basic)- lvl 1


    Mana Manipulation (Master) - lvl 8


    Nine levels¡­ The big bad monsters are better than dealing with a bunch of smaller fries, then.


    Valens nodded. Felt about right getting more than a few levels from that brutal fight, one that nearly cost him his life. Terrible monsters and their terrible way of welcoming new guests. Working by the orders of some invisible mind that forced them to¡­ well, do their Master¡¯s bidding.


    So then, this Necromancer was a sort of hivemind. A Magus, if he could call him that, who could not only resurrect the dead and animate them as though a group of puppets, he could also force his will through that lifeline to act against his enemies.


    That was the only explanation why skeletons never paid any attention to each other, but caught in a frenzy when Nomad disturbed their peace. They saw him as something to be fought against, even though the undead and the Necromancer¡¯s puppets had a certain similarity between them.


    As usual, Valens poured his recently gained stats into the Intelligence and Wisdom pair, feeling that cold trickle of mana slosh into his mana pool like the waves of an enormous waterfall. He shivered and couldn¡¯t help the smile curling around the lips at the sensation.


    I can¡¯t get enough of this feeling. More please!


    He chuckled silently as he started toward the mouth of the cave. Nomad and Celme crept carefully forward, the former holding his sword tight and the latter seemed to have decided to rely solely on her fists.


    The cold walls narrowed around them.


    Water dripped down to the puddles on the ground. There were no bodies here. Nothing hinting that a terrible battle that erased hundreds of lives from the world had happened in this place. It was odd. Everything was odd and strangely twisted here, to Valens¡¯s thinking.


    Yet he didn¡¯t feel out of place. Facing a monstrous creature with nothing but magic felt relatively comforting. You couldn¡¯t control a patient¡¯s fate. You could patch the wounds and fix what was broken inside, but you couldn¡¯t prevent a patient from getting wounded in some pointless skirmish by the border.


    Going against a beast was different. Horrifying, sure, but at no point did Valens feel he was dealing with an aftermath of some clash beyond his control. He¡¯d been his own man during those fights, a Magus relying only on his spells and the company beside him, heart thumping wildly in his chest, skin crawling with fear and pain and thrill of the chaos.


    Is this why soldiers fight?


    Money and glory were a part of I,t of course, and yet they¡¯d often mutter a curse or two after a skirmish before cracking a smile to say the thrill of the battle was one thing you just couldn¡¯t forget. These were men haunted by those painful memories, and yet relished in them at the same time. A sort of wicked balance that hung over a tiny little pin.


    Terrible, no doubt. Bloody exciting too, Valens had to say.


    ¡°Your blood boils,¡± he said a moment after, not to spark a conversation but more so to clear his mind from dangerous thoughts. When Celme gave him a strange look over her shoulder, he continued. ¡°Your skin heats up. Somehow, without relying on mana, you can imitate a high-adrenaline rush by contracting your muscles alone. Your heart tightens, too.¡±


    ¡°So?¡± Celme¡¯s voice had a throaty quality about it. Her eyes swept him yet again with a fierce look. ¡°What about it?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you think it''s dangerous?¡± Valens asked. ¡°Are you doing it because you want to get an edge over your opponent, or are you just getting mad at the beasts? I¡¯d say rage and fury are not particularly reliable emotions in the long run, but then again, I guess you can always find something to get furious at?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why you can never be sure about Berserkers,¡± Nomad grinned with a shake of his head. ¡°It only takes a little poke to get them rolling, and not with pleasure.¡±


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    ¡°Humorous,¡± Celme said as she swept them both with a piercing glance, her face perfectly still. ¡°My skill doesn¡¯t turn me into a mindless tool for murder, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re asking. I¡¯ve chains around my heart to keep my feet nailed to the ground.¡±


    Valens squinted at her, but he didn¡¯t remember seeing any chains when fixing her bones. Then he arched an eyebrow. ¡°And what are these chains, if you don¡¯t mind me asking?¡±


    Celme tapped a fist over her chest. ¡°That¡¯s between me and the Lord.¡±


    Uh¡­ I wasn¡¯t talking about your faith, and now you made it all awkward. I can¡¯t ask if I can put a Lifeward in your blood flow anymore.


    ¡°Sure it is,¡± he said instead, shaking his head off. ¡°And you¡ª¡°


    ¡°Look, Val,¡± Nomad cut him off. ¡°You can¡¯t reason with the religious guilds. They are too caught up with their mission to cleanse this world to make much sense.¡±


    ¡°At least we¡¯re trying,¡± Celme said as her lips curled in distaste. ¡°And while we¡¯re serving humanity with every part of our being, what do those adventurers do? Half of them barely have the heart to face their first Trial.¡±


    ¡°Somebody has to do the work, though,¡± Nomad argued. ¡°It¡¯s thanks to those people who¡¯re stuck at Level 100 that you have something of a system back in your little haven. Or else who would serve as guards or who would do all the politicking in the name of good? You can¡¯t have everybody sweating against the Damned.¡±


    ¡°Stuck at Level 100?¡± Valens arched an eyebrow at Nomad, curious. ¡°Why would they be stuck at Level 100?¡±


    Celme gave him a doubtful look, but Nomad waved her off. ¡°He doesn¡¯t remember,¡± he said, before nodding at him. ¡°You get a Trial every hundred Levels from the System. It¡¯s a way of preparing folk for the worse. You can choose to not do it, then live your life in peace however you want, but if you want to move on, you have no other choice but to take it.¡±


    Valens tapped his chin with a finger. That certainly was new for him. So there was a sort of limitation. ¡°But what sort of a Trial are we talking about here? Is it similar to this Quest?¡±


    Celme gave him a hard look. ¡°No. Trials come from the System. They almost always involve Broken Lands in some way.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why you don¡¯t go for dangerous classes,¡± Nomad said, eyeing Celme. ¡°A Berserker, for one, would have a bastard of a test as their First Trial. I¡¯ve told you, it takes a certain madness to pick a class like that, but at least she knows what her First Trial¡¯s going to be.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you can tell it? How?¡± Valens asked.


    ¡°Prior experience,¡± Celme answered with a hard voice. ¡°The first three Trials don''t change from person to person if they have the same class.¡±


    So you basically have a roadmap if you choose a known class. But I didn¡¯t get to choose mine. How does that work, exactly?


    He was about to ask when Nomad stopped and raised an armored fist. The mouth of the cave lay just a few paces ahead of them, a gaping, dark hole that opened up to a stony ceiling.


    ¡°We¡¯re there.¡±


    Lights flashed across the jagged surface. Green lights, yellow lights, all carrying different sets of frequencies. Valens caught sharper tunes there. Arrows. They stabbed with terrible speed at the cold stone, cracked in painful shrieks and splintered into pieces. They fell in a shower of wood and steel.


    Mana was in a rush below the edge. So intense that it sent a shiver down his spine. There was a low, echoing din that grew slowly distant before being replaced by another wave of chaotic sounds. People screaming. The undead growling. Terrible creatures shrieking and wailing.


    ¡°We¡¯re behind their ranks.¡± Celme stepped slowly round the walls and stood a step away from the cave¡¯s mouth, looking at them with narrowed eyes. ¡°We tried for an ambush through the other paths around the mountain, but we were expected. That bastard knew the moment we surrounded him he¡¯d be done for.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t take a genius to predict that,¡± Nomad muttered, voice heavy. The tip of his sword scraped against the ground as he pulled himself near Celme and peered down from the edge. ¡°There¡¯s a path we can use.¡±


    ¡°Can I?¡± Valens said and stepped over to the edge. He froze the moment he laid his eyes upon the main cave.


    There were lines. Sprawling, stretching lines of men that covered every inch of the ground. Like a rolling wave of black and green they thrashed against each other. Men crushed in from behind the undead ranks, vanished through the Skeleton Soldiers and added yet another color to the muddle in the centre.


    Balls of fire rained down upon the Necromancer¡¯s horde, shielded by elongated limbs of the Wards to keep the animated corpses safe. Streaks of sharp lights cleaved painfully smooth lanes across the press.


    The din of the Resonance brought lives being harvested down upon the chaos to Valens¡¯s ears. For every new set of frequencies that bloomed in his sound vision, dozens were being added to the deathly ranks of the mindless tide that pressed against the living.


    He could see long, robed figures near the entrance. Large undead beasts were lounging about them like wards placed near a wound. Some of them had Heartstones larger than Nomad, but even they paled against the Masters who stood behind them.


    Liches. The undead Magi that commanded the Ninth Legion¡¯s army.


    Some of them had smooth, almost rosy skin that didn¡¯t look any different than a human¡¯s. Some others were completely made up from bones that had a deeper color about them. One such bony figure was high on an elevated patch of rock, sitting over a jade throne that was flanked by two monstrous undead clad in full plates, all wreathed in green fog.


    ¡°Is that Lord Zahul?¡± Valens muttered.


    Nomad gazed deeply at that figure, his fingers curling tight around the sword¡¯s handle. ¡°It is. Lich King Zahul, one of the Five that serve the Abyssal Lord.¡±


    ¡°He looks like a King alright,¡± Celme said with a smile that didn¡¯t quite reach her eyes. ¡°Notice how he placed his throne away from the Lightmaster. Some king hiding behind his mindless horde.¡±


    ¡°Bah!¡± Nomad said with a shake of his head. ¡°The tier of this Rift is cruel on those Liches. They have barely a quarter of their magic working, and most of it they use to keep the lines in check.¡±


    When Valens trailed the Berserker¡¯s gaze he saw an older, simpler man standing before the human ranks. He had to blink to check if he was seeing right, because for all the battle and chaos around him the man seemed as though he was out for a morning stroll.


    The shattered bones of the Skeleton Soldiers and the chunks of flesh being ripped out from humans couldn¡¯t reach him. Something, some invisible magic was protecting the man as he took his sweet time strolling about the clash.


    Valens was about to ask if that man was Celme¡¯s King, but he decided against it. Once he started with the questions, there was no stopping it. This battle, the sides, those people clad in different colored plates and groups of Magi that lined across the entrance¡­ He didn¡¯t know anything about any of these people.


    His skin prickled when he turned his gaze toward the other side.


    There was a terrible being there, perched over a particularly large rock. It was clad in robes as dark as the night. Clasped in its right hand was a long, gnarled staff that seemed to have been fashioned from dozens of bones, all different and thin. They were screaming, those bones. Valens heard them in his mind. Still alive, somehow, even after having been mangled into a weapon of destruction.


    Nomad and Celme didn¡¯t seem aware, but over the thrashing crowd, lines of barely visible black streaks of mana danced, coming off from the Necromancer¡¯s withered fingers. They leashed down the moment a man or an undead fell. Latched onto their heart and soiled it with the Necromancer¡¯s venom. They came alive as mindless creatures that attacked their own companions. The dead fell with widened, betrayed eyes looking up in confusion.


    ¡°This¡­¡± Valens swallowed. He¡¯d been to many skirmishes in the past, and even served as a Healer in a fully-fledged siege. Men fought in those, armored men with weapons of all kinds. Men died, and men cried in every one of them.


    But here men fell with cries stuck tight in their throats. They died in heaps and their bodies got crushed under the tide like bugs. Those were the lucky ones.


    ¡°We¡¯ll get through the path and pray that the bastard won¡¯t take notice,¡± Nomad said, nearing the path that slithered from the side of the edge. He glanced over the armies for a long second before his emerald eyes locked on Valens. ¡°Stay close, Val, and keep those eyes fixed on my back.¡±


    Valens stepped back as Celme¡¯s skin started burning hot. Her blue eyes had blood in them as she gazed across the chaos. Her fingers shook as if she couldn¡¯t wait to throw herself into the mix.


    ¡°And you too, woman,¡± Nomad said and yanked her from the arm, made her look up into his eyes. Green fog rolled round his shoulders as he growled, ¡°We didn¡¯t save your ass for you to jump mindlessly to become another mangled corpse down there.¡±


    ¡°You¡­¡± Celme¡¯s eyes grew cold. She struggled against Nomad¡¯s hold, but the smoke wafting off her skin eased into trickles as Nomad forced her to look at Valens.


    ¡°See him?¡± Nomad said, voice sharp as steel. ¡°If something happens to that man because of your foolish fury or whatever the fuck that goes round your brain, then I¡¯ll carve those blue eyes out and have you eat them for lunch before ripping your head. Understood?¡±


    ¡°W-What¡ª¡°


    ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a yes.¡± Nomad nodded, and smiled, and patted her on the back. He then raised a fist to the pair of them, and started his way down through the path.


    Valens followed after him.


    ¡­¡­.