《Arcanist In Another World: [A Healer 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


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    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!¡±


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    ¡­..


    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.


    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    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.¡±


    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    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.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    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


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    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?


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    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.¡±


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    ¡°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 had to heal her, didn''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.


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    ¡°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 soap, 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.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    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 - 173


    Wisdom - 87


    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 him. 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 rise 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.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    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 pressed 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 limb 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?¡±


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


    ¡°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 it, 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.¡±


    Stolen story; please report.


    ¡°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.


    ¡­¡­.

 Chapter 22: The Battle

    The path led to a tight lane that slithered from beside the chaotic mess, seperated from the thick of the battle by a long wall that stretched across the cave. It created a corridor of its own where dozens of Skeleton Soldiers clad in broken plates and wielding weapons of rust and worn metal pressed into the men in shining armors.


    From what Valens could see, the two sides were in a deadlock even though the humans were clearly the stronger side. The Skeleton Soldiers made up for their lack of strength with numbers and a fervent state of mindless fury. They didn¡¯t hiss when carved by a sword. They didn¡¯t stagger when an axe chopped halfway into their chests. They fought, and thrashed, and clawed at whatever living tissue they could see before their eyes.


    They were a terrible bunch, Valens had to say, but at least they didn¡¯t have any of those Wards and hideous monsters in the lane. Most of them were too large to fit into the small corridor anyway, which was probably why there was only a constant line of Skeletons being directed there to keep the numbers up.


    Still dangerous.


    Apathy settled hard over his mind, and he started thinking about the ways with which he could provide himself and the group some relief in this grand endeavor. There was a terrifying line of animated corpses waiting a few paces ahead, and a constant trickle from the main horde that fed into their ranks.


    Cut the lifeline.


    Valens nodded as Apathy forced the reek of rot and the din of chaos away. What he left with was a cold detachment from the surroundings that allowed him to focus on the path ahead. There was a tight gap on the corridor wall through which the Skeletons had to pass to join their stubborn companions.


    ¡°I¡¯ll patch that hole,¡± he said as Nomad and Celme bounded ahead. When they looked at him he pointed a finger to the hole. ¡°That¡¯ll cut their supply line. It¡¯ll probably turn a few eyes toward here, so we have to act fast if we don¡¯t want to be bombarded by that Necromancer¡¯s foul magic.¡±


    ¡°You can do that?¡± Celme¡¯s rasped, face blotchy pink with ungodly amounts of blood underneath the skin. The Resonance told Valens that everything in the woman''s body was boiling like a broth cooked in a human-shaped cauldron.


    A simple nod was the answer he decided to go with. He hadn¡¯t the time to tell the woman that the act of magical healing wasn¡¯t something even an accomplished Magus could easily perform. One had to go through years of specific study and practice to even get the much-respected title of Healer in this field. Compared to that, performing a few spells wasn¡¯t something worth a mention.


    They had gods here, though, with ways to grant humans their blessings. I wonder how that works?


    He shook off the nauseating notion that anyone could become a Healer through some godly ritual in this world, and instead focused on the spell formulae for the Gravitating Earth waiting at the edge of his mind. Unlike Earth Magi who had to imprint the shape or the dimensions of the piece they wanted to move into the spell diagram with perfect detail, he only had to project the vacancy in the long wall¡¯s Resonance which aligned seamlessly with the real gap in his vision into the spell diagram, and move the earth mana to patch that hole in the Resonance.


    ¡°Get ready,¡± he said as they closed in on the gap. Already, some of the Skeletons were looking toward them with questions in their sockets. They hesitated, as if not sure this sudden intrusion was in part a decision from their Master or if it was an actual breach in their tight ranks.


    Nomad¡¯s sword decided for them, coming at the two who had just walked in from the gap with crushing force. Its tip gleamed with green fog as it hacked a smooth line across their waists, severing the bones and sending the body parts clanking down onto the ground.


    ¡°We move!¡± the undead roared as he and Celme lumbered forward to the back of the Skeleton Soldier line.


    Valens reached out to the mana and felt its tingle around his hands, a part of his mind focused on the gap in the Resonance. He sent the invisible earth mana threads toward the ground, right underneath the gap and forced the bare patch of earth to move. It stirred with a grinding sound that sent a tremor across the wall, its edges perfectly aligned to the both sides of the gap and rising slowly to close it.


    Then a Skeleton Soldier jumped over the slightly alleviated part, swinging a rusted sword at the undead. The weapon clanked harmlessly off the armor, making the creature stagger back before a punch plunged into its face and splintered the nasal bone with a sickening crunch.


    Valens frowned when the Skeleton Soldier¡¯s strange Resonance interrupted into the gap¡¯s own frequencies. The part that was rising from the ground started to shift to match the difference, taking the animated corpse¡¯s form which led to bone-shaped empty streaks in its otherwise solid surface.


    ¡°I need you to keep the hole clean!¡± he called out when another Skeleton Warrior tried to barge in from the gap. ¡°Keep that space empty!¡±


    Celme¡¯s eyes turned to him almost immediately, only to snap back to the hole when Valens jabbed a strong finger into her face.


    ¡°Keep that hole¡­ Clean!¡±


    ¡°Understood,¡± the Berserker said, reached out with a hand and clutched the Skeleton Soldier from the nape of its neck like one might hold a puppy from its scruff, then slammed it to the ground and crushed its skull with the heel of her feet. Green light burst forth in a rolling wave and pushed the other ones trying to jam their heads over the rising wall.


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    The Resonance restored, Valens focused on the earth mana and guided it slowly with his fingers. There was a heavy feeling to the spell as if he was the one raising that part, and some resistance because of all the foul mana sprawling over the fighting mob. Even from this he could tell the Necromancer¡¯s mana pool was something beyond understanding, like an endless ocean that just wouldn¡¯t dry out.


    When the tip of the rising earth matched that of the long wall, the spell came to a grinding stop and a loud ¡®ding¡¯ rang in his mind.


    Ding! You have learned the Class Skill ¡®Gravitating Earth - Master!


    Having expected that, he waved the notification off and joined the undead and the Berserker as they moved toward the Skeleton Soldier ranks. Only a handful of them seemed aware of the closing threat while the others further into the ranks were still occupied by the approaching human tide. That gave them the chance to grind the horde with two or three creatures at a time.


    Nomad took most of the burn. His armored bulk nearly blocked the greater half of the passage, which also limited his use of the sword to only fast thrusts and close swings. Celme didn¡¯t have that problem. Her sleek form was like an eel as she moved through the Skeleton Warriors. She punched, and kicked, and her fingers drilled whenever an animated corpse tried to use its armor to take a hit.


    It was strange watching them from the back, as Valens felt like he was in the company of two stubborn fools too lost in a twisted competition. The undead grunted loudly when the Berserker stepped around him to deliver a punch, and on more than one occasion went for a wide sweep to purposefully keep the woman away.


    Meanwhile, Valens walked slowly, for which he was grateful as his mana pool renewed constantly. He couldn¡¯t help but think about what awaited him on the other side, though. People of this world. Human and undead both. New traditions. New of everything, for that matter. At least he would be away from the Inquisition¡¯s tight hold for a while.


    Fresh air was something he dearly missed. That, and strangely the idea of being free. He wasn¡¯t ever free, now that he thought about it, not after Master Eldras took him from the streets. It was the best thing that¡¯d ever happened to him. He didn¡¯t remember much of anything before that. Only bits and pieces. Lounging about the taverns, waiting, fingers painfully cold, stomach aching, never knowing where he¡¯d sleep next.


    Memories, as Nomad said to him, sometimes were just dead weight over your mind.


    He shook them off and swept an eye across the diminishing line. Most of the Skeleton Soldiers were around level sixty here, and they now seemed hesitant whether they should be more worried about the pressing human forces or the odd group of three that hacked at their ranks, which Valens had to admit was a hard decision to make.


    [Warrior - Level ??]


    [Warrior - Level ??]


    When he tried to check the humans, he couldn¡¯t see their levels. Their shining armors all carried the same patch over the left shoulder, a double-headed snake that coiled around its body with both heads hissing at each other. They used a great array of weapons from swords to pole axes, and some others simply punched the Skeleton Soldiers much like Celme.


    They are strong, likely focused on Vitality, Endurance, and Strength, but where are the Healers? I don¡¯t see anyone who looks like a Priest here.


    That was odd, as most of the men and women fighting in the melee were smarting from cuts and deep gashes. He even saw one man bleed out in the front from a deep tear across his neck. Nobody tried to help him as he choked on his own blood, falling to his knees with one hand clasped around the terrible wound.


    A second after he was crushed under a number of armored feet.


    Where were the Priests? The healers whom Celme seemed to have great respect for? They should¡¯ve been carrying the wounded back from the lines to be treated, so why then nobody bothered to spare another glance to the men and women flailing right beside them?


    Valens scowled as a man staggered back when a rusted spear caught him just below the ribcage. Men around him turned at him, their eyes growing wide. Then they moved. The people who hadn¡¯t batted an eye to their fallen companions were now in a frenzy to aid this particular man. One of them snapped the spear¡¯s shaft from the middle and the other handled the Skeleton Soldier who tried to lunge at the wounded man with its bony fingers.


    Not a simple fellow, that¡¯s for sure.


    Blood spurted out the moment the man pulled the spearhead off. A most horrifying mistake. Valens winced involuntarily, fingers itching to help the man, but they had dozens of Skeleton Soldiers between them. He couldn¡¯t risk it, which meant the man would likely die from what was otherwise an easily fixable wound.


    But against the expectations, the man shook his head, took a step forward, and hauled his sword high, wincing as he brought it down upon a Skeleton Warrior who managed to pass through the other two. So, he could deal with some pain. He then turned and thrust the weapon into another Skeleton, caught it with the tip, and sent it sprawling over to the side. His skin was visible through the hole in the armor, and Valens couldn¡¯t stop himself from staring at that gap. The wound was still bleeding, but it already started closing on its own.


    The stats are at work here, I guess¡­


    ¡°Last lines!¡± that man roared with the sword held at high. ¡°Push forward! These mindless bastards can¡¯t take us anymore. Move!¡±


    The human lines pressed in reheated fervor, closing the distance between them and Valens¡¯s group. Nomad and Celme were no different as they crushed one Skeleton Warrior after another, barely aware that a storm was wrecking chaos around Valen¡¯s mind.


    Soon green lights mixed into the golden sprinkle of the humans¡¯ armor. They illuminated what was left from the Necromancer¡¯s horde - a group of pitiful skeletons that got squashed between two groups.


    Valens sighed out a weary breath when the humans started hacking at the last few creatures while Nomad and Celme dealt with a particularly stubborn one. They were mostly done here, which surprised him as he hadn¡¯t expected things to go this smoothly.


    A shadow fell over the lane. The others were still too focused on the fight in front to notice the oddity, but Valens managed to shake himself off and get a good look at it. He blinked.


    No¡­


    There was a giant sword coming right at them, clasped between the hands of a creature that towered over the corridor¡¯s wall. Its skull looked similar to that of a human¡¯s, except it was twice as big and its arms were easily over six feet. Every bit of its body frame reeked of the Necromancer¡¯s venom.


    ¡°Sword! Watch out!¡± Valens screamed, but his voice was lost in the din. His mind churned as he prepared a Gale and felt the spell¡¯s force in the palm of his hand. He stretched it toward his two companions, twirling the spell around their bodies and pushing them back.


    The tip of the giant sword cleaved down at the place where his companions stood a moment ago. It choked the wall and everything around them in a cloud of dust.


    ¡­¡­

 Chapter 23: In The Th?ck Of It

    Valens stumbled back, mind reeling, fingers of his right-hand prickling, dust and gravel choking him down. He made for a sweep of his hand to clear some air, blinked round at the chaos, the dust, the fog, breath catching in his throat. He pulled at Nomad and Celme with both hands, dragging them forcefully away from the tip that had cleaved halfway into the solid ground.


    The giant pulled the enormous weapon back with slow deliberation, as if he wanted to get a good look at all the mess he¡¯d made, blood streaking across its tip. It took a heavy moment for the lane to get rid of the terrible thing, after which the dust of the cloud parted to reveal the aftermath.


    Men screaming. Men shouting. Broken bones squelching in puddles of blood that had half parts of the limbs in them. A Skeleton Soldier flailed on a pair of dented knees, scrambling forward with one hand to the wall, the other clasped weakly around a rusted spear that tried to poke at an armored man who had his eyes fixed on his non-existent legs.


    All the blood and the pain reflected in the Resonance dinned in Valens¡¯s ears. It was a Healer¡¯s nightmare out in front of him. A number of men teetering dangerously on the line that separated life from death. Help one of them, then he¡¯d be risking losing the other. Help none, then they¡¯d be all dead, which felt like a more just way of doing things.


    He sent a Lifeward circling into the undead¡¯s body before moving onto the Berserker. Nothing broken. A touch of blood and some bruises around their bones, but the last-second Gale saved them from a terrible fate and Valens a great deal of extra work. So he tapped them on the backs, seeing them eye to eye, making sure they had their brains in place before moving over to the screaming line.


    A Fireball sprawled over to the stubborn Skeleton Warrior and flashed crimson around its yellowish bones. The tongues of it bit scratched and scorched every speck of that foul mana until the creature was no more.


    Ding You have managed to defeat [Skeleton Soldier - level 65]! For killing a creature above your own level, you are granted bonus experience.


    You have leveled up! 5 Stat Points granted!


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Valens acknowledged the present and leaned over the legless man as he wheezed pitifully through clenched teeth. Behind them, other men thrashed in pain. Cried in wails. Sent prayers to whatever gods they believed in, knowing they couldn¡¯t escape the death creeping in. The man with the spear wound¡­


    Oh?


    Was right here in Valens¡¯s hands.


    A Lifeward painted the patient¡¯s picture in his mind. As expected, there was nothing about the legs in the frequencies. Hardly a surprise, considering the man was holding onto his bloody knobs with incredulity. The upper body was interestingly in good condition. It seemed the sword had been too sharp to affect the other areas. A heavier weapon wouldn¡¯t have left him alive, however half he might be now.


    ¡°Bite into this like your mother¡¯s life depends on it,¡± Valens said, ripping a piece from his robe and stuffing it hard into the man¡¯s bloody mouth, watching him gawk at his face and give him a reassuring nod. This was no time for formalities.


    ¡°And you!¡± he turned, finger pointed at a man belching out with his back to the wall, a pair of bloody legs lying in a bloody puddle underneath his feet. The man snapped suddenly like a soldier called out for a terrible crime, then blanked when Valens gestured at the legs. ¡°Get me those legs. Be careful not to break them!¡±


    There was a reaction to those words on the man¡¯s face as if he wasn¡¯t sure how he could further break something so cleanly severed and bloodied in the first place. Still, under Valens¡¯s urging gaze, he rose to the job and carried the legs wincing across the way. He laid them near the wounded man, blinked at the separated stubs of bones revealed in the bloodied waist, gave a weary sigh, and clunked down at his back, eyes rolling white.


    ¡°Weak-willed man,¡± Valens muttered, they were a terrible bunch.


    He pulled the legs near the man¡¯s waist, mind focused sharply on the Resonance. A set of weakening frequencies bloomed in his mind, Lifeward letting him know the man was about to be off.


    Lifesurge eased into the waist area a moment later. Now, the bleeding was a bastard of a problem on its own, but re-attaching the legs was more so. With one hand he pushed the tip of the right leg into the waistline, Lifesurge threads converging around the area and focusing on the severed veins. He stitched each one back with smooth precision, hardly blinking, hardly sweating, knowing too well this was just another operation.


    He was soon reminded of the circumstances, though. A snarling, hissing grunt of a voice dinned in his ears. He was scarcely big enough to bloat the patient¡¯s chest with his own shadow, but slowly everything around him fell into a sprawling dark that sent a shiver down his back.


    Up he looked, and there he saw the sword making for a second round. The face behind it, or rather the skull of it, had a frown of a smile that seemed eerily disappointed. Perhaps the creature thought a single sweep would¡¯ve been enough to crush the wall. Indeed it was, but by some freak of an accident, a large piece of the back wall had patched the stretch that the giant managed to crush.


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    It was pure luck on their side, as otherwise, the Necromancer¡¯s horde would¡¯ve filled the lane.


    But now it was coming back again, and it seemed to Valens that expecting a second streak of luck wasn¡¯t all that sensible. He got up, knees aching, hands wet with blood, and started dragging the man away from where the creature aimed its sword. An armored hand reached out from beside, agleam with green fog, and pulled at the man¡¯s lusterless armor before nearly hurtling him back.


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to save this man!¡± Valens jabbed a strong hand into Nomad¡¯s face. ¡°Try to be more gentle, will you?¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­¡± Nomad scowled in confusion, then gave a hesitant nod. ¡°Saving lives, right.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Valens said, stumbling back over the bodies of rotless Skeletons and nearly falling on his arse, before managing to forcibly plant his feet on the ground.


    ¡°What do we do?¡± Celme¡¯s voice was weary and yet furious. Her crimson eyes stared up at the giant sword, the side of her lips curled in a tight frown. She seemed to be cursing the fact that she hadn¡¯t anything against that bastard of a sword.


    Valens didn¡¯t blame her.


    ¡°It''s aiming for the wall,¡± Nomad said, voice rasping. ¡°They¡¯re not gonna let us get away with it. Look at those fuckers. Sheep trembling before a fucking dog!¡± He hollered at the jostling line of men ahead who seemed to be caught in an argument about whether they should move forward or get back from the lane, hesitation in their eyes as some of them gazed at the patient in Valens¡¯s hands. ¡°Get your arms up, men! That piece of shit¡¯s not going after us. I reckon it''s aiming for the wall. They¡¯ll come storming, those fools, in a moment. Be ready!¡±


    Some grumbles and curses about the Undead Legion in general, but they all quieted down when the sword came screaming down with brutal force. Men tensed back. Men sprinted across the distance to stand beside Nomad for some reason. Men looked in nervous expectation as this time the sword slowed before it bit into the wall, eased sideways across, and then up in a smooth line, cutting a great square of it like one might cut butter with a blazing knife.


    As he was busy stitching the legs back into the man¡¯s waist, Valens hesitated for a second if he should try for another Gravitating Earth to patch the hole. But that thought proved painfully innocent as the wall came down with a loud thump and dozens of Skeleton Warriors filed in through the opened hole.


    ¡°Shit,¡± Nomad cursed, and he and the others beside him rushed to meet the new lines of animated corpses.


    It was a clash of bodies and bones, armors screeching, blood spurting, men screaming and roaring with battle fury. Being in the thick of it made the job in Valens¡¯s hand feel a touch pointless. Back in his old world, back in the tent that would be planted near a skirmish or a true battle, he¡¯d often only have to deal with people who had a chance at making it.


    Nobody would try to bring in a man about to kiss death in the face into a Healer¡¯s Tent. Got a bullet in your heart? Then chances are you didn¡¯t make it into the hands of the famous Healers of the Empire.


    Yet here, when men fell in blood-curdling shrieks and painful cries, or when they staggered back with some rusted weapon caught round their sides, Valens¡¯s hands jerked up as a reflex, mind reeling as he considered the choices he could make, or he should make.


    He could fix a shattered heart now, he could regrow the lost limbs with enough lifemana and a good deal of Lifesurges in such close proximity. He could, in theory, help each of those wounded men, but he only had two hands, and the limitation of them sent a ghostly pain down his chest whenever one of the men died bleeding.


    It was during these times Apathy proved its worth. Ever the relieving web, now stretched across his emotions and pressed over them like ice on burnt skin. It ripped out all the unnecessary notes, and Valens was back at it again, focused purely on the left leg of the man who had his teeth crunching on a now-bloodied cloth.


    When he was done with the leg, he poured enough lifemana into the man¡¯s heart to strengthen the blood flow.


    The man came to himself with a bleary look, eyes unfocused, searching around his body, widening when he lifted his right leg to check it. Awareness crept slowly into his face as he brought one shaking finger over to his face.


    ¡°Get up,¡± Valens said, and put a hand over the man¡¯s trembling knees. ¡°You¡¯re all good, and fixed, and healed, soldier. It¡¯s all about your mind, now. Either move back and find yourself a hole to rest, or get back to the din to make the battle work those things for you.¡±


    ¡°Er¡­ Eh?¡± the man blinked at him, smooth face twisted up in a questioning scowl. He pulled himself wincing on his arse, felt his body with one free hand before giving him a look.


    ¡°T-Thank you¡­¡± he said, voice quivering, dark eyes looking up at Valens in gratitude. Then he was staring down, as if searching for something around Valens¡¯s body, only to scowl back again with questions in his eyes. ¡°Who do you serve, Priest?¡±


    Valens sighed out wearily. ¡°I serve no one, soldier. Go ahead, off with you now. I have more business to attend to. On your feet!¡± He tapped him on the back for good measure, then left him there to move toward where he was needed the most.


    Their line in the lane did a good job at holding the breach across the wall. It was big enough to let six men pass, and Nomad was taking a good part of it all by himself. The men grumbling about the Undead Legion now seemed to appreciate the help, as they looked for any opportunity to prove their worth by helping Nomad and pressing into the chaos shoulder-to-shoulder with him.


    But while the men tired, and Celme and Nomad rasped one breath after another, there was no end to the Necromancer¡¯s horde. The Skeleton Soldiers were streaming in a constant line that neither tired nor feared they might lose something precious in the battle.


    Valens¡¯s eyes strayed down at the wailing men. Broken men. Men who needed immediate attention. Then up he was looking at the press where at each passing second a man stumbled back, wounded by some rusted and venomous weapon that left them breathless.


    The realization came slowly. Even if he were to have four hands, he couldn¡¯t keep up with the rate at which these people got wounded in the chaos with his healing. There was just no point in that.


    Backing off, he found a large rock and climbed up to it before gazing from over the wall. Hundreds of Skeleton Soldiers and twisted creatures sprawled into an endless tide beyond it. A tide that seemed to be holding well against the human and Undead alliance.


    It took him only a moment to make a decision. Stretching his hands out, he tapped into the mana pool in his chest that had renewed and was now over half-full. He felt the fiery streaks¡¯ warmth around his fingers, tongues of flame coming alive with but a thought. More mana fed into the spell as Valens established his control over the threads. He had to make sure the lane wouldn¡¯t be affected by the storm.


    He took in a deep breath when the spell reached saturation. It was risky, he knew, and more than likely would bring some attention to his side, but it was high time to mull over what ifs and whatnots.


    He let the Inferno rage toward the sprawling tide with determination.


    ¡­..

 Chapter 24: Burn Them All

    Blasting flames scorched the bones, ate away whatever rotten flesh was left dangling from the skeletons, and sent a foul reek across the cave. Valens¡¯s nose was full of the smell of his terrible deed. Walls groaned behind him. Men yelped and fell back, wide eyes staring up at the rising waves.


    The world faded, and he was left alone standing there, feet over the rock, hands stretched out toward the tide like a priest about to relieve the dead from their unsolved miseries. They burned, and he watched, Apathy tattering in the back of his mind.


    Why work around the wounded when you can rid yourself of the source?


    Why help the senseless men at all?


    It was simple work down in the cave¡ªhim and the screaming corpses, men watching in awe, not knowing quite what they should make of him. All a matter of perspective, now that Valens thought about it. A slight adjustment was all it took to twist things in their favor.


    There was a satisfying crunch to it when the bones snapped, a gratifying well of zest rising in his chest when he saw how they broke against his spell.


    Looked like all he needed was two hands, after all.


    You have managed to defeat [Skeleton Soldier - lvl 64]! 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 65]! For killing a creature above your own level, you are granted bonus experience.


    You have managed to defeat [Skeleton - lvl 59]! For killing a creature above your own level, you are granted bonus experience.


    You have managed to defeat [Skeleton - lvl 61]! 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!


    Mana gurgled out in sloshing waves from his hands, feeling stronger than ever, thicker than what he dealt with in the past. It was pure thrill tasting it on the roof of his mouth, seeing them get slathered with flames and crumble there in pieces.


    Ding! [Inferno(Adept): 2 > 3]


    Ding! [Mana Manipulation(Master): 8 > 9]


    Ding! [Mana Manipulation(Master): 9 > 10]


    The Resonance rang loud in his mind as he kept his sound vision around the burning din. He saw a stubborn Skeleton Soldier trying to drag itself away from the chaos, its left leg riddled with cracks that stretched further up with each step, stumbling its way through the others and setting the back lines in flames.


    Another one was thrashing over the ground, bony hands digging the dirt and plastering mud around its ribcage, hoping either it¡¯d keep it safe from the storm or keep the rot alive just enough to live through this hellish nightmare.


    Valens¡¯s fingers strained, and for a moment mana grew still in his chest. He paused at the sensation. The fiery threads were still blasting heat forth in an uninterrupted stream, rolling in waves about the wavering line, but there was a clog to the spell, building a sort of pressure that tried to rip his fingers off.


    That tore his mind away from the strange lull he¡¯d found himself in watching the scene. He blinked. An emptiness gnawed open his chest and lingered there like a part of his ribcage had suddenly gone missing. But there was nothing wrong in the Resonance. He was all well and healthy, at least on a cursory glance.


    Warmagic was dangerous for a reason, Master Eldras had always said. The Magi of the old weren¡¯t unrooted just because they were a warmongering bunch. The more they delved into the arcane, the more they¡¯d become something higher than a human, but perhaps lesser of mind, which was the cause of instability.


    Or, Valens then thought, this sudden self-reflection could be the result of a shackled mind. Of a history twisted and told by the winners. Of an authority so scared of a time long past that it decided to drill into the newer generations a certain fear so that they would behave in a way that was appropriate.


    For who?


    Was it possible that even he could¡¯ve been the victim of their paranoid practice without knowing? He was of Empire-born, lived all his life under the same authority that forced him to cage his talents, to play the same role as most of his peers. Never yearn for more. Be grateful for the things as they are.


    But that didn¡¯t work, did it? No matter what they did, Valens had never managed to quench the fire burning in his heart.


    After all, even the mind of a person had its frequencies, and the Resonance showed clearly that there was nothing wrong with his head right now. A little avid, sure, and a bit more excited than he would¡¯ve liked, no doubt. Apathy should¡¯ve not only hampered the negative emotions but the positive ones as well. The thrill of success could be just as dangerous as hesitation in some cases.


    But other than that, Valens felt¡­ fine. In control, more than ever. Unbothered by the voices whispering behind the walls, slithering snakes waiting for a misstep to stab a stake through his chest.


    Some movement around the back of the Skeleton tide.


    Valens snapped awake. He couldn¡¯t see it through his sound vision, and the blazing flames were too radiant for him to catch anything other than his own storm. Until a giant sword rose, cleaving the flames apart and clearing a lane across the storm to reveal the one holding it.


    [Skeleton Oarfang - Level ???]


    This time Valens managed to see its name, written in a dark red like blood dried over a long gash. It lumbered through the burning lines, feet thumping on the ground, its skeletal frame hulking over the armored men who stood behind Nomad and Celme.


    ¡°To the lines! To the lines!¡± Nomad was screaming, one hand wrapped tight around his sword. He planted his feet right before the gap on the wall, green fog rolling about his shoulder plates and down his chest. In a moment he was clad in an ethereal carapace of the Lich¡¯s magic, as men scrambled to take position behind him.


    Celme¡¯s blood was burning hot, her face flushed with heat and adrenaline, her Resonance spiking over the chaotic frequencies like a stubborn spear. There was a sharpness to her now, eyes a deep crimson, the knuckles of her fingers straining white.


    A tinge of pain rose within Valens¡¯s chest as the Skeleton Oarfang crushed waves of the Inferno. The spell was a web of intricately woven threads, every part of it connected by tiny knots. He could stretch it as one might stretch a flexible rope, and bind the broken threads should there be a need for it, but he couldn¡¯t keep up with the speed at which that creature kept snapping the threads.


    They crossed eyes with Nomad, and Valens gave him a nod, pointing with his brows at the hulking skeleton as he let the Inferno dissolve into nothingness.


    Nomad leaned in the moment the firestorm ceased, and then he was off, the worn chest plate clanking as he led the men into the newly formed opening.


    The human lines, with Nomad and Celme out in the front, stabbed into the disoriented skeleton tide like a sharp arrow. It was easy work dealing with the half-burnt corpses. Beyond, toward the cave¡¯s entrance, the deadlock of the two forces began to disintegrate as that part of the Necromancer¡¯s horde found itself squashed by two sides.


    Valens could tell the Skeleton Oarfang¡¯s purpose from over the large rock. It was a patch, a last-second measure to deal with this sudden breach, and it looked strong enough to provide a momentary relief to this heated chaos. The humans certainly seemed tiny enough that they¡¯d be crushed under the toes of that freak of nature.


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    But they were pressing still, carried by Nomad¡¯s momentum, using the creature¡¯s eerie obsession against the one who caused this change to weed out the other lesser skeletons. Valens found himself staring at the Oarfang¡¯s sockets, in which burned rotten lights that seemed to be fixated on him and him alone.


    You¡¯re furious, then?


    It was time to move.


    Light Feet carried him onward to the fighting lines, breath rasping in his chest. He felt the Gravitating Earth with the tip of his fingers as he coursed freely in the opening. Trouble was, there was only so much space he could use Light Feet to distract the creature, and Gravitating Earth was a spell that took some time to manage.


    But¡­ I¡¯ve learned the spell, haven¡¯t I?


    A smile tugged at his lips as Valens gauged the distance and the Oarfang¡¯s thumping steps. He decided to try it. He pulled at a rather shaky part of the ground with the spell, littered with bones and bits of crushed metal, and the moment Oarfang decided to step in, he pushed the patch to sink deep into the earth.


    The left leg of the lumbering giant dipped heavily into the newly formed hole in the ground, the other leg snapping with a loud crunch and the sword clanking down at its kneecap. Valens winced at the sight, at the sharp side of the sword tearing into the yellowish bones, at the tangled form of the beast as it tried to flounder back to its feet.


    ¡°The beast is down!¡± Valens yelled at the battling lines as he prepared a Fireball in his right hand. The mana within his chest dwindled dangerously after that last Gravitating Earth, but a simple spell like Fireball was still something he could manage.


    No help came.


    He peered around. It was hard to single out the Undead from their oddly similar cousins in the din, and the humans were too lost in the battle to spare a glance at the real problem. Valens glanced back at the hole in the wall from which they¡¯d just spilled into the real battle. He scowled. There was a group of Skeletons there, halted by a line of armored men carrying the same patch of double-headed snake on their shoulders.


    They must¡¯ve opened a new hole in the back.


    Breathing in deep, he tried to get a clear sense of the situation through Resonance. To his left, the Skeleton tide was about to be dealt with, which meant that the Undead and human alliance would fill into this opening quite soon. To his right, Nomad and the humans accompanying him were trying to hold the other lines and assault the Skeleton tide from the back at the same time.


    And down in the middle of this was one single Skeleton Oarfang, with Valens keeping it company.


    The choices were clear. Either keep the beast stalled or kill the damned thing like how he dealt with that Ward.


    Too dangerous. Nothing is holding it back¡ª


    A hand crunched into the Oarfang¡¯s face, hard. The beast reeled with the impact, the sword nearly slipping out from its fingers and bones grinding like metal. Another hand was coming at it fast, fingers clenched painfully tight, smoke wafting off from the skin over them.


    ¡°Move, healer!¡± Celme¡¯s voice was raspy and hoarse, her face twisted up in senseless fury. She¡¯d seemed to hack those words out with her teeth rather than speak them like a normal person.


    She leaped up, bringing her left fist in heated momentum, and drove the punch right underneath the Oarfang¡¯s chin. The giant beast¡¯s head snapped back as it tried clumsily to raise the sword. But the weapon was too big and too slow to catch the stubborn Berserker who weaved around it like a fish in the sea.


    Valens perked up, aiming the Fireball toward the Oarfang¡¯s left leg, which was still halfway deep into the pocket he¡¯d carved with the Gravitating Earth. He let the spell sail away in a streak of crimson and felt it squelch into the bones. Tongues of it crawled up through the inner skeletal frame.


    The Oarfang shook its ribcage off in mild displeasure. The Fireball might as well have been a tiny candle for all it cared. Even as the Berserker kept battering its bones with a flurry of punches, it tried to jerk itself back and laid the sword on the ground in an almost lazy fashion. Then, with two hands, it began to haul its left leg off.


    Cursing, Valens moved closer and jabbed his hand sideways, pushing a pair of columns of hardened soil to fix the creature¡¯s leg in place. It was the only thing they had against the beast, and he couldn¡¯t let it find its footing once again.


    ¡°Arms!¡± he said shortly after, gazing at Celme. ¡°We need to get rid of those arms so I can deal with this freak. I¡¯ll hold them in place; can you break them?¡±


    Celme¡¯s bloody eyes spared him a furious look, then they widened as the woman slowly came to herself. She gave a look toward Valens and down at the beast. ¡°Do it, but don¡¯t get too close. Keep that pretty head of yours safe, or that bastard¡ª¡±


    ¡°Now!¡± Valens said as with another Gravitating Earth, he raised two thick columns and caught the Oarfang¡¯s right arm between them. He tried to jam a third one into its chest as well, but the tip of it splintered as the creature¡¯s bones proved too hard.


    Celme was on the arm now, delivering one jab after another to the Oarfang¡¯s shoulder cap, while Valens strained to hold the beast in place. It tried to swat away the annoying fly of a human with its other arm, but the way Valens placed those two columns protected Celme from a straight blow.


    That was when the Oarfang decided to simply break the columns. Its bony hand crunched down hard at the left column, which was exactly what Valens hoped it would do.


    What else can you expect from a mindless set of bones?


    With the force of its own hand and Celme¡¯s insistent blows on the shoulder cap, the arm squashed between the columns finally gave in and snapped off from its cap like a bottle¡¯s cork. It fell in a cloud of dust, with Celme throwing herself away at the last moment.


    Once the annoying human was off of it, the stupid beast gave a blank look at its stub of an arm. There was nothing there.


    Valens used the gap in the beast¡¯s judgment to pinch its other arm between a pair of columns, a sharp pain jabbing him in the corner as his mana dipped painfully low. But they were close now, the lines receding, the humans and the Undead closing in. Them keeping this beast in place allowed Nomad and his strange group to widen the gap.


    When the last arm was locked and secured, Celme restarted her work. Her punches rang loud over the din of chaos.


    Valens closed in, preparing a Lifesurge in his right hand. The creature kept flailing, but with one leg deep in the ground and the remaining arm being battered by a mad Berserker, it hardly had time to spare Valens any attention.


    Finally, Valens placed a hand on its body and sent the Lifesurges coursing into its rot. It took him only a moment to find a similar yellow river in its body, keeping it animated, but unlike the Ward, this one¡¯s river was one roaring body of water that sloshed upward in rolling waves.


    He followed their trail, the Lifesurge threads tearing the river with their sharp tips. Already, he could feel the core that was tied to the Necromancer¡¯s magic. He had yet to learn how this source could fill in something so decisively dead and animate it, but right now snapping that source line was more important.


    There you are.


    He paused as a Lifeward painted the picture in his mind: a molten core of sizzling rot and pus, bound into a dangling rope that stretched further into somewhere beyond his sound vision. He didn¡¯t linger long and instead focused on the tiny knots around where the source line was bound into the core.


    He pulled them off one by one, his recently strengthened mana tearing easily into the twisted magic. The pulsing lifeline grew dimmer and dimmer still, and Valens pushed, with teeth clenched, one final time to break the last one apart.


    Something slammed into the Resonance. The lifeline pulsed, ever so slightly, as the frequencies jammed into a wavelength that weighed down on Valens¡¯s mind. He tried to jerk his hold away from the molten core, but the Lifesurge threads remained glued there, being sucked by a strangely familiar force.


    Sounds and voices poured into the space. Thousands of them. Jaws clacking, bones rattling, screams, roars¡ªthe din growing dense. It was a multiplying chorus of lingering thoughts, all restless and bleak as if forced unwillingly from death by something so deep, yet insidious, that even Valens, in full health, struggled against its hold.


    ¡°Curious,¡± thumped a voice in his mind, sounding like a thousand vipers hissing all together at once. ¡°Left out here all alone, are you, little one? Cast off from your flock, a tiny sheep too weak to carry the weight, eh? I would¡¯ve spared a moment of pity for you, and perhaps taken you under my wings, had you not been such an annoying bother in my godly work here.¡±


    ¡°Who are you?¡± Valens gasped and clawed blindly at the voice, but it felt like grabbing smoke with his bare hands. Deep in the Oarfang¡¯s core, there was nothing, but the Resonance never lied. The strange presence pressed over it as though a giant hand wrapped around his neck, its claws sharp and venomous.


    ¡°I¡¯m the shepherd,¡± the voice said. ¡°I¡¯m the father of this flock and protector of the forgotten. And you¡­ You are playing a dangerous game here, little Mage. You have tested my patience, but I dare not say no to such a gift delivered to my doorstep as well. Now, lend me your precious soul, will you? You have my word that I will make good use of it.¡±


    The Apathy broke. Every single thought that had been caught by the intricate net poured into his mind. The zest and the thrill, the anger and the fury. They became whole, and it was painful around his head, a sharp agony drilling down through his chest.


    He was awake to see it all, to feel the higher authority press onto him again. How and where wasn¡¯t important. All that mattered was that it was happening again. Different world or not, someone was trying to bind him with the same shackles.


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­¡± Valens hissed over the blinding agony in his chest. ¡°I¡¯m sick and tired of people telling me what¡¯s dangerous or not. My soul¡­ you won¡¯t have it. Nobody can have it anymore!¡±


    The rattling of his cage, the sharp voice of the twisted being¡ªthey all receded into somewhere deep in his mind. And then Valens was reaching for the last knot, Apathy stitching itself back around his mind. He willed the Lifesurge threads to lash at the core and tear that rotten tether apart.


    ¡®Ding¡¯ You have managed to defeat [Skeleton Oarfang - lvl 117]! 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!


    Resonance shifted. The air stirred. Valens came to himself with a weary sigh and blinked down at the chaos. Something was different there in the din, in the chaos that hung thick in the air. He caught it in the Resonance. It sounded a lot like freedom. A defiant cry in his ears.


    That and the Necromancer¡¯s eyes staring at him from behind the skeleton lines. The bastard looked¡­ confused.


    ¡­¡­

 Chapter 25: Voices

    Lord Zahul¡¯s fog was an intoxicating drug, and its voice was like the song of a siren. It pulled at his Heartstone. It promised to take the pain away, the thoughts, the memories, and forge him into something hard beyond anything human could breach. Acceptance would bring relief to his churning mind. Off with anything that had ever bothered him in this second life.


    Nomad refused.


    He brought the sword up with all the frustration in his stone, the mail underneath the chest piece rattling, mana hissing in his throat, and caught a floundering skeleton below the ribcage, stabbed it through with the tip of his sword, and hacked it sideways before bounding forward.


    In the din, the voices were no more. The chaos was the best remedy to his broken mind.


    The fog seeped into his visor, tendrils of it dancing alluringly in the corner of his eyes. More foes and the crunch of bones. They dampened the siren¡¯s song. Then he was swinging, sword catching the pitiful fools and sending them sprawling over to the others, the thrill rising in waves, the Heartstone thumping in his chest.


    Lines pressed him from behind, humans scrambling to get to his aid. He scarcely needed their intrusion, but he liked the blood. The sight of it as it trickled down through their faces, the thickness of its consistency as it pooled over the dead bodies, the smell of it as it burned its way through his nostrils.


    It almost made him feel he was back in the old, back to where he really belonged, his brothers at his side, Laran with his giant shield, Bart resting his hammer over his lap, Resni all worried about how things changed and kept changing, shadows looming, shadows seeping, talking and whispering, Terek telling him that it was high time they leave the past behind.


    They were all dead now. He was the only one remaining and wasn¡¯t even half the man he¡¯d been. A damned skeleton with a hoax of a heart beating in his chest. Memories broken and false. Constantly fighting against the voice of a Master. Still deep in the clutches of that same shadow.


    It¡¯d jerked him around like a piece of ripped cloth and flung him down in the depths of the world, only to raise him again and make him do its bidding.


    Not much of a choice, Nomad reckoned. He was a coward through and through, and the notion of being dead still scared him to the bones.


    He sent a Skeleton Soldier spinning back, lunged in, and plunged a knee up to its non-existent gut, felt his bones crunch against its rotten skin. With the pommel of the sword he dented the side of its skull, dented it deep and well, made a tangle of it before the rot burnt off its sockets.


    Somewhere deep in his mind a notification blinked. Then confusion filled him. He reckoned another memory was about to make a mess there, as it always did whenever he¡¯d gotten a level, but it wasn¡¯t that. He¡¯d had someone with him, no? A young man a touch strange of mind, of body, and magic both. Where was he, anyway? He should¡¯ve¡ª


    Streaks of black lights poured down from the ceiling of the cave. They came in heaps and stabbed at the earth, stabbed at the men and skeletons with wanton fury. Up there, high round the cave, dozens of Wards were in a craze as they let the human Magi batter them with spells and instead focus on their little line here.


    Nomad halted and glanced back, saw the young healer there standing before an Oarfang¡¯s corpse. A real corpse, its rot already seeped out and left a crumbling mountain of a carcass behind. It¡¯d have taken a squad of undead to deal with a creature like that. A score of soldiers and a chief at the helm, all taken by Lord Zahul¡¯s fog so that they wouldn¡¯t feel or hear any pain at all.


    But that amnesiac healer of a mage did it. Nomad licked at the single patch of flesh dangling from his upper lip, and smacked his helmet with the pommel of the sword. Felt his mind settle true with a crack. Felt his thoughts draw back from shadow and fog at once.


    At least the bloody Berserker was there, skin reddened up and face slick with sweat, fingers bruised around where her knuckles likely rammed into the Oarfang¡¯s corpse. She was an odd one, Nomad reckoned. She gave him the creeps, alright.


    They looked spent after their little tussle with the beast, chests heaving, eyes staring blank at the aftermath, unaware that the Wards were trying to reach them both. Or just the healer, Nomad reckoned, it was hard to tell.


    Back to being the compassionate undead, then, back to that safe space again. Voices stilled whenever he was in the company of that young healer. Ceased to exist with muted anger that something so primal had come to such close proximity to their servant. Afraid that he would catch them, and strangle them with his surges.


    Nomad shook his head and lumbered back, cleaving another line of skeletons before sweeping an eye across the chaos. Help was coming. He could leave the healer to their hand, and go off on his own. They had the numbers. The Lightmaster was there, strolling about the lines, face beaming with a smile that didn¡¯t quite reach his eyes. Acting as if he wasn¡¯t purposefully stalling for his guild to get some levels out from the battle. Reeking of divinity so false that it hurt just looking at him.


    Toward the undead lines, it looked like Lord Zahul¡¯s pupils were about to make a move. The apprentice Liches had some quality to their magic, and with the fog filling their stones, they could take a few of those Wards with little effort, but the Necromancer himself¡­ The bastard was just too tough for their skin.


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    If he even forced Lord Zahul to use his pawns to trim the mana off his core, then he ought to be over Level 200. That meant he was a match of them both, hence why the Lightmaster must¡¯ve spared the formality of Lord Zahul breaking the Pact by using his fog.


    His cursed fate finally gave him a pat on the shoulder, it seemed. All this chaos and the Necromancer would take some weight off his stone. Give him an excuse. Carried by the deathly venom. Chased by a number of skeletons. Down in the caves that stretched and forked like a maze. Anyone could get lost there. Even an officer in the making.


    There was one man who wouldn¡¯t let this pass, though. Nomad could feel his presence like a knife pressed to his neck. A mountain of an undead carving bones out in the front, clad in steely plates from head to toe, fingers of his armored hands wrapped fiercely around a spiked mace.


    His men gave him space not by choice, but by the sheer force of the bastard as he twirled that mace round, and cut the lines down like a reaper. His emerald eyes were full of filthy fog, shoulders wreathed in a flapping cape of Lord Zahul¡¯s magic. Unlike the undead marching behind him, though, he was sane of mind.


    Being a chief came with perks.


    It was time to choose. Nomad peered about himself and saw Celme there, trembling as her blood steam died off. Spent like a flame burned too bright just for a second. That was why you never trusted a Berserker. Too unreliable, her bunch, too mad to depend on.


    Nomad scoffed. Looked down at his bare legs, and saw the bones there battered by blows, smeared with blood of men and rot of the skeletons. Looked at himself as he felt the shame and the guilt burn within his stone. To think he¡¯d reckoned himself as some epitome of trust.


    But the bloody woman refused to stand up. He¡¯d told her that he¡¯d cut her good if she let anything happen to Valens. And the Wards were closing in, sending their tendrils at the healer as if he was a thorn in the Necromancer¡¯s eye, the other beasts moving through the skeleton ranks and staring daggers at the young man all the while.


    What was happening? Why would a Necromancer care for an Oarfang enough to send his horde after a single man?


    Up round his left side, well beyond the front ranks of the undead tide, Hook was cutting the last skeletons that would open up the path. Then they would merge with the humans beside him, and then he would see Nomad, and start asking questions. Nomad would babble some excuse that¡¯d make him mad, but worse it¡¯d make him suspicious.


    It was the worst venom a man ever had to deal with, Terek had told him once. Once you¡¯re suspicious, even for a loose tile in a damned hall, you become too conscious about it. You check it now and then to see if it''s still there. Poke at it to feel round it. Then, when it becomes too much, you try to fix it.


    The chief already had an eye on him. That, he knew. Hook was a man of duty, and overly proud of being an officer in the Ninth Legion. A damned good man to get drunk with, no doubt, but a terrible one to make an enemy of.


    But Nine Hells, that woman left him with no choice.


    ¡°Hold this line,¡± he mouthed to a particularly stubborn man in golden armor, saw him give a nod, and then left him there with others as he hauled the sword back with a heave. His feet crushed bones and corpses as he weaved through the throng, one eye fixed on a tendril stretching deviously from the Oarfang¡¯s back, trying to be clever and catch the healer from the side.


    He bounded across the distance, mana rasping in his chest, and threw himself up as the tendril curled round the corpse¡¯s side and stabbed at the healer¡¯s head. He was too late. Spent all the precious time trying to decide.


    But why did he care for a young man, anyway? Just because he made all the voices quiet? Mighty selfish of him, he knew, but wouldn¡¯t they eventually part ways, anyway? There was no point.


    Then again, he was never a master at making good decisions.


    Valens perked up as if poked by an invisible hand, turned round to face the tendril, spared a momentary glance at the Berserker, and raised one bare hand. The air stirred and shifted, and a gale picked them both. Dragged them away as the Ward¡¯s limb tightened around the Oarfang¡¯s corpse.


    The healer had eyes on his back, alright, which gave Nomad the time to close the last gap. He came down swinging the sword over the wriggling limb, felt its tip squelch into it, and draw yellowed rot in a spurt. He twisted about and ripped that part smooth, crushed it down under his feet for good measure.


    ¡°Thought you¡¯re too lost in the ranks,¡± Valens¡¯s voice came with that casual confidence about it as if he¡¯d not expected in the least to get any help from him as if he¡¯d needed not any of it. Then flames stretched out to wrap the ripped tendril in a blaze and ate away the foul mana that kept it animated.


    Nomad glanced at him.


    Magus and healer both. Some freak he¡¯d come across by a strange happenstance. His long, dark hair had bits of crushed bones in it, blue eyes over the stubble hiding a well inside them. He carried himself with a cold calculation, never did seem to feel anything even when men died in heaps around him.


    That¡¯s not how healers were supposed to act. Not to Nomad¡¯s knowledge, at least. Put one of those priests in the cave, then they¡¯d be screaming, tearing up at the death and the living, praying like some god out there beyond the clouds was waiting to rescue them.


    Not this man, no. He was something else. Nomad was sure of it now, though he wasn¡¯t aware of the particulars. There were too many legends riddling this world, and it was hard to pick one that fit this man.


    But to Nomad, he was just a healer who¡¯d saved him from a terrible fate. It was their encounter that dampened the voices in his mind, that meeting that made him utter some bullshit of an excuse before he decided to carry on with it. Without him, Nomad would¡¯ve been already deep in the clutches of the Tainted Father.


    ¡°They look pissed,¡± Valens said as he peered at the dozens of tendrils moving through the cave. Dark lights streaked over and fell down to poison the death with the Necromancer¡¯s venom. Beasts closed the ranks as the human and undead lines crept onward.


    Looked like everything was set for a final battle.


    ¡°Want me to check those bones?¡± Valens then said, looking at him with eyes glinting. That made Nomad laugh. All the beasts were out to get him, the skeletons sharpening their rusted spears with their eyes on his head, the hulking beasts hissing impatiently across the lines, and yet the fool of a healer was still thinking about a single undead.


    ¡°Leave it,¡± Nomad said, shaking his head. Then he paused when he caught a familiar sight out of the corner of his eyes. A mountain clad in steely plates was coming up to him. Behind the visor, those emerald eyes looked furious. ¡°Changed my mind,¡± he said as he tightened his hold around the sword. ¡°I might need you in a minute.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Valens scowled.


    ¡°You¡¯ll see,¡± he said, sighing out a long breath. ¡°My chief¡¯s here.¡±


    ¡­¡­

 Chapter 26: The Chief

    Valens watched as hundreds of men filed into the opening, the undead ranks closing in and stretching in a line like a true army preparing for a battle. Scores of them choked the space around Oarfang, the air reeking of blood, sweat, and piss.


    Meanwhile, Nomad gazed deep somewhere toward the undead lines. Celme was busy staring at her own hands, her blonde hair streaked with crimson blood, eyes blank as if her mind was somewhere else.


    Then the undead army parted, and one man trudged out of their ranks.


    Nomad tensed back.


    Valens blinked. He had seen plenty of undead fighting around the cave, all favoring different weapons, clad in plates wreathed in greenish fog and their Resonance filled with a surprisingly peaceful rhythm. Scarcely he felt any spikes in their frequencies, as if the act of brutal combat was something like an everyday occurrence to them.


    Not this man, though.


    [Undead Chief - Lvl ???]


    He was a mountain of steel lumbering toward them, that spiked mace glinting painfully sharp. The tip of it dented the ground when the undead stopped and leaned over the weapon, the thorns cracking the soil and plunging halfway in, kicking up a wave of dust as if the earth was somehow offended by the act.


    ¡°Lost your way, have you?¡± he said, voice raspy and tinged with a hint of fury. His emerald eyes glanced over Valens and Celme before fixing Nomad with a stare. Even with the helmet covering most of his face, Valens could feel the undead¡¯s frown by how the light shifted in his eyes. He was pissed, through and through.


    ¡°Can¡¯t say much. It¡¯s a bastard of a cave, eh, chief?¡± Nomad gave him a dead look, then cracked a laugh as his grip on the sword loosened. He jerked a thump back to the holes across the cave, sounding greatly disappointed. ¡°Must¡¯ve hit a soft patch. When I came to myself I was deep in a maze. Had to rely on these old bones of mine to dig my way out.¡±


    ¡°Uh,¡± the Undead Chief grunted, raising one hand over his head and clasping it into a fist. A score of undead parted out of the green tide to the side, and trudged over them, all eyes down at their feet.


    Valens arched an eyebrow when he felt their frequencies. There was a lull, a lazy cadence that barely sounded alive, disturbingly similar to that of a comatose patient. Unlike how Nomad and the chief¡¯s Heartstones pounded in spiking waves across the Resonance, these undead were just like Necromancer¡¯s Skeletons, save for a hint of consciousness around their stones.


    ¡°Ain¡¯t that a struggle? Though it''s mighty generous of you to bring your worthless scalp back to where it belonged. Want a reward for that heroic effort? Reckon I¡¯ll have the boys clap you on the back once we¡¯re back in the den,¡± the chief said, eyes narrowing down. ¡°Or you can spare the bullshit, and spit out the reason why you tailed out. Can¡¯t be that you¡¯re afraid of the fog, eh? A chief has to know what his men go through, you know that.¡±


    Tension crawled up Valens¡¯s spine, slithered about his head, and lingered there, a rope stretched tight around his neck. He gazed at Nomad and saw him tap a finger over the pommel of his sword. Tap. Tap. Tap. His eyes remained still, but the Heartstone thumped in hesitation, scattering the rhythm of his Resonance for just a moment.


    His chief didn¡¯t seem to feel it. But then, he didn¡¯t look the part that¡¯d care a lot about how Nomad would feel either way. He was waiting to hear the excuse, then he¡¯d be giving him the prize. One that¡¯d be dangerous in nature. Valens knew that look well.


    ¡°I was in need of assistance,¡± he said when the silence stretched for too long. Nomad¡¯s gaze snapped at him, to which Valens gave a grateful smile. ¡°He wanted to get back, but I¡¯d dragged him around the maze. He saved me from the Necromancer¡¯s horde as well. Now I see where he got his manners. You seem one hell of a chief, sir.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± the chief¡¯s eyes widened slightly. That was a good sign. ¡°Did you just call me sir?¡±


    ¡°Er¡­ Yes, I think I did.¡±


    ¡°Reckon you can do that again?¡±


    ¡°Eh¡­ Sir?¡±


    ¡°One more.¡±


    ¡°Sir!¡±


    ¡°Not bad!¡± the chief leaned in and clapped Valens on the back, a boulder of a hand nearly crushing him down. He barely corrected himself and sent a Lifeward around his back to feel the strain. Nothing wrong, but it¡¯d be bruising soon. ¡°The name¡¯s Hook. I appreciate the enthusiasm, but that ain¡¯t going to cut it round here. When you¡¯re buttering some ass you have to do it with the zest. Gotta say those words with your chest!¡±


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    ¡°I speak the truth,¡± Valens said as he straightened his back, the fingers of his right-hand tingling as he reached for his mana pool. He could dump all his unused stats to Intelligence and Wisdom and get some mana back. The undead was strong, stronger than Nomad no doubt, but his bulk made him clunky, and he hadn¡¯t the speed to match Valens¡¯s quick feet. And that armor¡­ Nothing an Inferno couldn¡¯t melt.


    What in the hell am I thinking about?


    ¡°The truth of it don¡¯t matter,¡± Hook said, slowly picking the mace up. Shadowy tendrils wriggled over the cave and waves of magic clashed into them, lines of undead and armored men getting ready, shuffling their feet, checking their weapons, trying anything other than to look at the Necromancer¡¯s horde that stood against them. Hook banged a fist on Nomad¡¯s chest piece. ¡°You¡¯ll explain yourself to Lord Zahul when this is over. Until then, you¡¯ll keep your bare ass in my sight, or I¡¯ll see to it that your Hearstone¡¯s fixed tight in your skull. Understood?¡±


    ¡°Aye, Chief,¡± Nomad said.


    ¡°Good,¡± Hook said and turned to Valens. ¡°It''s not often you see a human being precious against us. I like it. Now get back to your flock, young man, if you want that little head to stay over your shoulders. Things are about to get dangerous here.¡±


    Valens¡¯s mouth twitched at the words, and he felt the warmth of a Fireball before Apathy fixed his mind back. Then, for perhaps the first time in his life, he sneered. ¡°I¡¯ll try to not get In your way, Chief. You have my word.¡±


    ¡°Alas.¡± Hook shook his head. ¡°There¡¯s a reason why most humans die young. Too thick of head, your folk. Too stubborn for their own good. Do what you must, lad. Do it a good deal away from us, though. I don¡¯t have it in my stone to see how you¡¯ll get mangled in the din. Be safe.¡± He gave him a tired nod before gazing at Nomad. ¡°Say your farewells. The Legion¡¯s waiting.¡±


    He then left them alone, merging back into the undead lines, his men trailing after him. Valens shifted to the side and glanced at Nomad, and saw in his eyes a terrified look.


    ¡°You¡ª¡°


    ¡°I¡¯ve made a choice,¡± Nomad cut him off, hauling the sword back over his shoulder. He gave a long look at the stirring skeleton lines, the creatures, and the beasts, and breathed out a heavy sigh. ¡°A wise man once told me that once you¡¯ve made a choice, you have to carry on with it. No point in thinking. No point in lingering in the past. Reckon I¡¯ll do that.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s indeed wise,¡± Celme said as she rubbed her neck tiredly. Blood had seemed to return to her face, painting her cheeks with a healthy pink. She looked stronger than she was, too, her frequencies sturdy in the Resonance. ¡°But you¡¯re not very wise, are you, Nomad? So you do that but don¡¯t forget who you are. That¡¯s important.¡±


    ¡°Says the mad Berserker who couldn¡¯t contain her fury to save her life,¡± Nomad scoffed at her, but there was something different in his eyes, something that made Valens smile. ¡°But I¡¯ll try. You keep our precious healer safe, alright? Show him the places around when you¡¯re out of here, and keep him away from your guild.¡±


    ¡°I think he¡¯d shown us all that he could keep himself safe enough,¡± Celme said, shrugging. ¡°But I¡¯ll be his guide. Now go on, your Chief is waiting.¡±


    Valens tensed when it looked like Nomad was about to give him a speech as well. ¡°Do know that I¡¯d be glad to fix your bones if there¡¯s ever a need for it. Tell it to your chief as well. I won¡¯t ask for much coin, I promise.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve never struck me as a greedy bastard, anyway. Try to stay safe, Val. It¡¯s been a good while, but good things always end, I should know,¡± Nomad said, then thumped his fist against Valens¡¯s chest, and left the two there to join his squad.


    Valens watched him slump back, his shoulders feeling heavy, breath sticking tight to his throat. He clawed at his sinews and scratched the itch, but it wouldn¡¯t go away. His heart felt still in his chest. Felt too still that it started bothering him.


    For a second he thought of lifting the web of Apathy off his mind. But then he¡¯d be dealing with all his troubles, the thoughts, and the lingering emotions. That wouldn¡¯t be very wise of him when he was about to be caught in a heated battle.


    A Resonant Healer needed a strong will to deal with the sick, and a Warmagus clear of mind to not get too lost in the zest. Even a needle¡¯s hole could be dangerous.


    But then, it was good to feel things. There was little color to it when he watched the world pass by, things happened around him and people cried and laughed and screamed, all shaded by a delicately woven web. It protected him, sure, but it also dampened everything of value about what made life worth living.


    Could it be that Nomad felt the same? That fog would take his mind away. Valens felt it in the others. That how blank their gazes were, that how lifeless their stones thumped even when filled with all the mana in the world. What difference did they have from the mindless horde of the Necromancer? Just some tools designed by a Master¡¯s hand to be used in case of any minor inconvenience.


    Just like how the Inquisition wanted the Empire¡¯s Magus to behave.


    ¡°Wait!¡± Valens called out to him.


    Nomad paused in mid-step, giving a hesitant look back over his shoulder. Ahead, Hook narrowed his eyes at him.


    ¡°You don¡¯t belong in a cage,¡± Valens said. He understood. He knew it like the palm of his hand, and he wouldn¡¯t stay silent against it. ¡°Come here. I have an idea.¡±


    Why did I say that? I have nothing.


    Nomad¡¯s gaze strayed to Celme as if waiting for the woman to give him an answer, but she just shrugged and tipped her head. ¡°Best listen to the healer. That¡¯s what I¡¯ve learned, anyway.¡±


    In the end, he dragged himself unwillingly back over them and stared down at Valens with questions in his eyes. Valens didn¡¯t blame him. He wasn¡¯t even half sure what he would do, after all.


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you when to let the fog in,¡± Valens said, raising his right hand to Nomad¡¯s skull. He had to stand on his tiptoes to reach that far, but before that, he motioned to Celme. ¡°Stay close to him. I don¡¯t want Hook and any of the other undead to see this.¡±


    ¡°What are you planning?¡± Nomad asked, taking a hesitant knee on the ground.


    ¡°Just let me get a clear sense of this,¡± Valens urged him.


    The horde was stirring.


    ¡­¡­.

 Chapter 27: Operation

    When Celme got around to Nomad¡¯s back, Valens finally placed his hand on Nomad¡¯s skull, then paused at the warmth around his bones. It was different from how cold and lifeless a Skeleton¡¯s bones felt. A Lifeward painted the Resonance of his anatomy in his mind. Mana was coursing underneath the solid bones, sprawling from the Heartstone like a web of veins that reached every bit of his bone frame.


    Then he gazed down. There, the strong core of Nomad stood in all its glory. Unlike a Skeleton¡¯s rotten core, this one was shaped like a real heart, arteries worming through it and pulsing with a strong beat, creating the set of unique frequencies that belonged to and only to Nomad.


    And it was being fed by a lifeline.


    He paused at the sight of it. The lifeline was bound to the left atrium of the heart just like how a Skeleton¡¯s source thread was bound to its rotten core, but this one pulsed at each beat of the heart, and more importantly, he could see where it led. Its tip forked out into five threads that grew thinner as they wound toward the chest, their tips ending just an inch underneath the outermost layer of the Heartstone.


    These look like¡­ pipes? They¡¯re sucking ambient mana from the air, sending it down to the left atrium. The mana is already clean, so there¡¯s no need for any lungs to clean it. There¡¯s another pipeline over the right atrium too, but it''s dormant. Is that an artery under that part? But why? And it leads to¡­ what is this sphere?


    Valens frowned at the black, lusterless sphere that appeared in his sound vision. It was cocked underneath the Heartstone, was slightly larger than a nut, but had two different arteries bound to it. One of them led to the right atrium, and the other one was bound into the left atrium just like¡­ a lung.


    What¡¯s the point of it, though? There¡¯s no venous blood to cleanse. And I feel a presence there, hidden somewhere deep inside. Can¡¯t reach it with a Lifeward, though.


    It was likely something similar to the situation around his own chest cavity where the System stored the mana he¡¯d gained from killing things.


    ¡°Be quick,¡± came Celme¡¯s voice, anxious. ¡°They won¡¯t let you keep at it much longer. Do it now, or leave it.¡±


    Valens gave her a nod, and gazed at Nomad, sweat trickling down his brows. ¡°I¡¯m ready. Let the fog in.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Nomad asked, shuffling uncomfortably over his knee. ¡°Once I let the fog in there¡¯s no turning back.¡±


    ¡°Either you¡¯ll do that and give me a chance to try this, or you¡¯re going to get back to your chief and you¡¯ll become one of those mindless men. Take your pick.¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Nomad grunted, green fog rolling in waves across his shoulders like a cape. It seemed thick enough to touch, but when Valens tried he couldn¡¯t get any feeling of it. Neither real nor false, stuck somewhere between, guided only by an undead¡¯s will. Such terrible, terrible magic. Pretty fascinating, as well, though.


    He was about to walk into an untrodden territory here, but then, that''s all he was doing this time after he''d opened his eyes to this world.


    ¡°Do it,¡± Celme said.


    ¡°I¡¯m waiting,¡± Valens kept his focus on the Heartstone.


    Nomad gazed at the pair of them and paused, gauntleted fist clenched tight. Then he rammed that fist into his chest and sucked in a deep breath. Green fog filled his Heartstone.


    Valens felt the change the moment Nomad breathed, and all that fog seeped into the right atrium of his Heartstone like a wave from a cursed river. The nonfunctioning part of the heart, which had been left barren a second ago, slowly filled with Lord Zahul¡¯s fog.


    A stream of it trickled down through the artery that was bound to the black sphere and just remained there. If this were to be a lung, then it should somehow cleanse the venous flood to provide clean blood across the body, or mana, in this case.


    Except it didn¡¯t.


    It just sent that same foul mana toward the left atrium of the heart where it merged into the clean waves of ambient mana that were being sucked by the lifeline from outside. Specks of it soiled the pure flow into a muddy yellow, and then the Heartstone stirred and pumped that contaminated mana through the main artery that fed into Nomad¡¯s mana veins.


    The Resonance changed. Nomad¡¯s unique frequencies quieted down, hampered by the muddy fog¡¯s influence, and his presence shrunk low, and lower still until Valens could barely hear them anymore.


    So that¡¯s how it is. That¡¯s what the right atrium was for. To spread Lord Zahul¡¯s mana or any other Lich¡¯s across an undead¡¯s frame to take them under their influence.


    Valens refocused his attention as foul mana waves coursed through Nomad¡¯s veins, feeding into the bones, forcing them to widen, forcing them to grow unnaturally as if he was being forged into something more.


    Cracks sounded in his ears when Nomad¡¯s bones started giving in. His shoulder caps popped and came loose, fissures running over their surfaces. A part of his ribcage nearly split wide open, only to be forged back by Lord Zahul¡¯s fog and made to be thicker.


    This venom was making him stronger by taking everything that belonged to him. The worst part was that he should be feeling the pain somewhere deep In his being, but wasn¡¯t sane of mind to understand what to make of it or if he should give any reaction to it.


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Valens could see how useful this was. Lord Zahul could use his influence to command an army that was stronger than ever, feared nothing, and never uttered a word of protest. But the practice of it was detestable. A kind of torture that even the Inquisition wouldn¡¯t have dared to use on unruly Magi.


    Focus.


    Right. He had to decide on a course. Do something to stop his pain.


    His sound vision concentrated around the black sphere. That was the main gear here that sent the foul mana to Nomad¡¯s left atrium. A lung that wasn¡¯t working the way it should.


    This¡­ It''s just a piece of metal that generates a suction force. There¡¯s nothing to fix! Whoever designed this had never intended for this thing to do anything other than spread the Lich¡¯s mana.


    He couldn¡¯t cut the artery that bound the sphere to the heart. If he did, the foul mana that was constantly filling into the heart wouldn¡¯t have any way out, and would keep accumulating there until the membrane of the atrium burst off.


    What else? Think!


    Clogging the main pipe through which Lord Zahul¡¯s fog seeped into the right atrium could work, but then there was the possibility of the Lich feeling his lack of influence around the body. So, Valens had to come up with a way that would allow Nomad to inhale the fog, but not get influenced by it. At least enough to keep some semblance of his own mind.


    But how? Lord Zahul¡¯s mana was everywhere. Like an insidious sickness, it invaded every part of his body, took the veins in control, and worse, it was stirring in a way that urged Nomad to action.


    Nomad shifted under his hand. Slowly, even against Celme¡¯s full strength, he tried lifting his leg from the ground and rising to his feet. Panic grabbed Valens as he nearly lost the skin touch to the skull. He couldn¡¯t let him get away. Not now, after all the things they¡¯d been through.


    ¡°He¡¯s changing,¡± Celme¡¯s voice rang in his ears. ¡°Do something, or he¡¯s going to become one of those mindless corpses.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m trying!¡± Valens said, heart thumping in his chest.


    ¡°Try harder!¡± Celme placed her hands over Nomad¡¯s pauldrons and pushed him down. Her fingers strained against his thickened bones. ¡°He can¡¯t rid himself of the influence for weeks if the fog takes control. That¡¯s why the Pact forbids it over the ground.¡±


    ¡°You¡­¡± Valens breathed, then looked down at Nomad. ¡°Get back down!¡± he hissed, sending a pair of Lifesurges to the black sphere, washing it with a wave of lifemana. It sizzled when it splashed against Lord Zahul¡¯s fog.


    He then paused.


    Nomad should¡¯ve been screaming, thrashing in agony over the ground, as just now what Valens did was to essentially pour acid over a working lung, but other than a faint wheeze through his teeth, the undead remained stout. And he also stopped resisting.


    It worked¡­ But I can¡¯t constantly wash the artificial lung with lifemana. At some point, I would have to let him go back. If I can put a lifemana source in there, though¡­


    Valens felt the sinews around his neck tighten. Fingers of his left hand brushed against the patch around his thigh. He pulled one of the half-full lifemana gemstones from underneath his skin and clasped it tight in his hand. This could work. This could act as a constant filter for the fog.


    ¡°This¡­ Is going to hurt,¡± he said, looking at Nomad¡¯s empty eyes. They were gleaming with the Lich¡¯s fog, but there was nothing under them. Just a soul too lost to be aware of its surroundings.


    Heaving a breath, he jammed the gemstone right through the long crack round Nomad¡¯s chest piece and caught it with a pair of Lifesurges from the other side that he stretched out from the Heartstone. The surge threads looked just like a pair of ethereal ropes stretching from the stone that thumped in the Undead¡¯s chest, glimmering a faint blue. They cuddled the gemstone like it was a pristine jewel, then slowly carried it down near the black sphere that was underneath the Heartstone.


    Valens opened a hole big enough for the gemstone to pass through around the ribcage. Then once it was in, he placed it near the black sphere.


    This is the dangerous part here, but it¡¯ll work. It has to work.


    He guided the tip of a Lifesurge toward the artery that kept feeding the artificial lung the Lich¡¯s fog from the right atrium of the Heartstone. Using it like a scalpel, he removed it from the sphere and patched the holes with a wave of lifemana to keep the fog from spilling out into the ribcage. It wouldn¡¯t hold long, but it didn¡¯t have to. A second was what Valens all needed.


    The Lifesurge threads knitted the tip of the artery into the gemstone. Then Valens lifted the lifemana wave, and let the fog seep into the tool. It hissed and sizzled, but since the gemstone was only half full with lifemana, only a part of the fog got cleansed by it, which Valens hoped would be enough to trick the Lich into thinking that he still had absolute control over Nomad¡¯s mind.


    To end the operation, he took the other artery that was still bound to the black sphere, the one that should''ve sent the cleansed blood to the heart. He cut the tip of it and stitched it back to the gemstone, leaving the artificial lung completely non-functioning.


    I replaced the artificial lung with the gemstone. The difference in pressure is enough to generate a suction force, but this is a temporary solution too.


    From the rate at which the lifemana was being used to cleanse the fog, it was clear the gemstone would only last for a week or two. But at least it was better than nothing, and if the lifemana in the gemstone was used completely, Valens could always fill it with his own mana.


    If I¡¯m not there to do it, though¡­


    Nomad would have to do surgery to remove the gemstone and somehow fill it with lifemana on his own.


    We¡¯ll figure it out later. What¡¯s important is this should give him some time.


    Breathing in deep, Valens let his Lifesurges dissolve and watched as the gemstone sent the half-cleaned mana into the right atrium from where the new blend of mana would be pumped across the Undead¡¯s body.


    Ding! [Lifesurge(Master) : 5 > 6]


    Ding! [Lifeward(Master) : 5 > 6]


    ¡°I¡¯ve done what I can,¡± he then said, sighing out a long breath as Celme scowled at him. She didn¡¯t have to strain against Nomad¡¯s strength anymore as he ceased resisting. His frequencies were still clouded deep under the Lich¡¯s fog, but they should slowly work their way back to the surface.


    It took a heavy moment for Nomad to raise his head. ¡°I remember now,¡± he muttered, voice muffled with pain. ¡°They didn¡¯t die. I killed them all with these hands.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Celme asked, but Valens was scowling at a sudden sensation around his feet. He heard something strange just then, as though thousands of ants were crawling underneath the soil, the earth stirring, the walls shrinking as if they were afraid.


    ¡°Wait¡­¡± he said, gazing deep at the undead and human lines that were about to welcome the Necromancer¡¯s horde. Voices were there under their feet. The earth was changing. He placed a hand on the ground and felt the muddy soil on the tip of his fingers, the Resonance speaking into his mind.


    ¡°Under the ground.¡± His eyes narrowed down. ¡°Dozens of them. Digging their way through the mud.¡± Valens jerked his hand back, heart thumping in his chest. Celme searched his eyes as he rose slowly to his feet. ¡°They are coming from under the ground. An army of them. Under¡ª¡°


    Bony fingers broke out from the thick layer of mud. Clawed at the earth and widened the gaps. Caught the undead and armored men by the ankles. Caught them well and dragged them down into the mud.


    ¡­.

 Chapter 28: This World Is Mad

    Bodies clashed and bodies fell. Wavering lines pressed into each other and muddled into a sprawling mess. Everywhere at once, men died bleeding, the Skeletons screaming, the Undead reeling back. Bones were coming out of the ground, hands reaching out to catch the alliance unaware, to give the hulking beasts of the Necromancer¡¯s horde a chance to crack the ranks wide open.


    Valens saw towering shields crumbling down out of the corner of his eyes. Trampled under the hooves of Oarfangs. Drilled by Wards¡¯ streaking limbs, through the metal and into the flesh, caught all unaware, caught like fish on a spear¡¯s tip. They were jerked back and sent hurling across the lines, bits of broken bodies falling in a sickening shower over the scattered lines.


    But then green lights washed down over the ground and stretched into lanes of fog that slithered around the Undead ranks, seeped deep into the ground, the Skeletons hissing against the touch of it. The Lich¡¯s magic gave the Undead lines some semblance of their order back, and then they were marching, crushing the bony hands with their armored feet, moving in lines of steely death toward the Necromancer¡¯s beasts.


    Lightmaster was there on the din, that smile of his stretched painfully tight across his lips. He waved an almost vehement hand around the air, and then there was light, blooming in the dark of the cave like a morning sun gracing this forgotten stretch of the world with its face.


    It burned, looking at the man now. Burned just being in the proximity of the light. Valens was no believing man, but he still thanked whatever the Gods were out there when Lord Zahul¡¯s fog blocked the light from spilling down to the Undead lines. It instead seeped into the golden-armored men and brought a change to their ranks, letting them establish their lost order in moments while the Lightmaster kept the sun alive.


    And yet, Valens could see the wide openings through his sound vision in the alliance¡¯s army. Hulking beasts reaped the souls of men by dozens. Magic and arrows couldn¡¯t scratch their thick bones. Valens had tried himself before and knew how sturdy those outer shells were. The only easy way to deal with them was to cut the lifeline of the venom.


    The only easy way.


    He scoffed. This world was mad.


    There was scarcely any muscle that didn¡¯t hurt when he tried to move his body, mind still scrambling to understand what had happened to Nomad. He could tell he was troubled just by lending an ear to his frequencies and could almost hear his thoughts as well, but they were more like incoherent whispers that he couldn¡¯t quite understand.


    He shook his head. There was no time to think. The lines were moving, and they were being slowly forced to get dragged into the din. Nomad on the front. Celme on his side, face twisted up as she tried to wave the fog away. Valens a step behind, surrounded by a group of Undead that followed after Hook.


    The chief didn¡¯t seem to be aware of the change. Not yet, at least. He didn¡¯t seem to care whether Valens and Celme were in their ranks too. Valens guessed that was only normal. One more corpse, human or undead, wouldn¡¯t make a difference. His eyes were back on the horde now, back to the Skeletons, that spiked mace raised high.


    ¡°I remember,¡± Nomad was mumbling, the tip of his sword scratching the ground as he dragged it mindlessly after him. Valens wanted to reach out and see the situation around his Heartstone with a Lifeward, but the Undead around him pushed him back, back until he lost sight of the pair.


    He was left alone in the din, a tiny ant lost in the green waves. They didn¡¯t look him in the eye. They didn¡¯t seem aware that he was there at all. The Resonance of their Heartstones dwindled to a rhythm that lacked anything other than blind obedience.


    Onward they marched, and clashed, and ripped into the Skeleton tide. They moved team by team, each one focused on a single mission. Hook¡¯s team was making for a particularly twisted beast, towering over the other Oarfangs and beating the ground with four hooves. Looked like an elephant, one that was changed into a freak by the Necromancer¡¯s magic.


    Hook was on him a moment after, slinging himself up to the beast¡¯s back with one hand round the creature¡¯s jutting bony fangs. He planted himself up there and drove the spiked mace down with all his worth, the thorns of the weapon cracking against the hard shell, green fog rolling through his shoulders. His men kept at the beast, kept it busy to give the chief some time.


    [Skeleton Olifant - Lvl ???]


    It let out a terrible screech and mashed one of the Undead into a bony pulp under its front hooves. Trampled over it and swung its fangs around, forcing the others to scramble back, leaving Nomad and Celme completely open against it.


    Valens cursed as armored shoulders jabbed him in the back, caught him round the head, snapped at his arms, and sent a wave of blinding pain across the wave of Apathy. His nose was full of the reek of rusted metal and fresh blood. Weapons nicked his skin as a number of Undead swarmed from beside him. They pushed him back, and he couldn¡¯t move, and could only stare through his sound vision as the Olifant targeted the pair.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    The Berserker jumped up, fingers clenched tight into a fist, and jabbed at the beast''s face while Hook kept smashing the mace across its back. That seemed to annoy the creature as it stumbled away, but its bones were too thick. It was like trying to batter down a wall of pure steel by swinging wooden sticks at it, and now the wall was growing furious, and it was coming down heavy over them.


    Enough.


    Valens poured every bit of his unused stats into the Intelligence and Wisdom pair. Felt the mana rush toward the pool in his chest. Felt its heat like molten lava coursing under his skin. He could barely lift his hand from how the lines squashed him round, but once he did, flames came alive.


    Inferno roared over the din. Pure flames radiating a heat that nearly rivaled the Lightmaster¡¯s light. That pulled some attention to him. Good. All the better. He twisted the spell into a swirling circle and brought it down slowly, carefully to give the crowd around him some time to react.


    The Undead pressed into each other as they stumbled to get out of the way. Valens was glad that they¡¯d at least had some fear in them, as he half expected the fools to fight against the flames. But it seemed nobody, not even a controlled corpse of a man, wanted a piece of that roaring storm.


    With delicate focus, he pulled the Inferno down until the edges of the storm touched the ground. He was in the middle of it, the heat splashing against his face, but it gave him the much-needed space to reach for the pair. He strolled out, kept the circle fixed with him as the center point, made a show of it for all the Undead to force a path to open up before him.


    Mana was just right around his hands, feeling heavier in the Resonance. He even got a taste of how it changed into fire mana when he used the spell. Seemed like his chest cavity was more than just a storage for the mana he gained in the form of stats. It also played a part in the spells as well.


    No time for that, though. Not the time to think about magic and its intricacies. He waved a hand over his head and widened the edges of the storm, stretched it toward the Olifant, and willed a part of it to lash against the creature.


    The blazing wave tore into the Olifant¡¯s skull. Splashed round and splattered to its back, nearly catching Hook on the armor. But the chief slid nimbly toward the edge of the beast, emerald eyes widening at the burning bones before snapping at Valens.


    Valens looked him in the eye and gave him a strict nod. That would suffice for now. He then forked the Inferno¡¯s circle toward Nomad and Celme, opened a hole in its edge, and let them in. He closed the circle right after that, giving the two some time to breathe.


    ¡°How is he holding up?¡± he asked when Celme¡¯s eyes found him. The woman let out a rasping breath, sweat trickling down her face, the blazing flames reflecting in the pupils of her eyes.


    ¡°He keeps mumbling the same thing,¡± she said, dragging Nomad by the armpit over to Valens. He was indeed in a state of disbelief, sword clasped clumsily in his right hand, the left hand over his skull and tapping into the bone. Tapping that same finger into the same place, another storm burning inside his Heartstone.


    Valens placed a hand onto him and felt his heart with a Lifeward. Down to the gemstone that worked as a replacement for that artificial lung. The lifemana kept filtering the greenish fog of Lord Zahul, sending the faintly muddled mana back to the right atrium, from where it spread around his whole body.


    There was nothing wrong with the veins. In fact, Valens clicked his tongue at how smooth his alterations were to Nomad''s anatomy. This could be a revelation by itself in another world, but here, it was just a half measure to keep a rather strange company in shape.


    ¡°Look at me,¡± Valens said, feeling the sudden spikes in the Resonance. Lifeward showed him that these were coming from that shadowy part of his core. Something there was jamming into his frequencies in a way he couldn¡¯t comprehend. ¡°Claim your heart,¡± he said, pushing his forehead into Nomad¡¯s skull. Felt the skin touch there like an embrace. Felt how heavy the fog was pressing him down. ¡°It''s yours. Take it!¡±


    An Oarfang bounded into the Inferno¡¯s circle, caring not whether it¡¯d set its whole bone frame ablaze. Behind, the towering shadow of the Olifant was being flooded by swarms of Undead, Hook¡¯s spiked mace coming in sight and falling down with a crunch loud enough that Valens could hear.


    Valens banged a fist into Nomad¡¯s chestpiece, forcing him to look wearily into his eyes. He almost saw a glint there. Almost. So he was there, still. Just had to take him out to the surface.


    ¡°Move,¡± he said, clenching his teeth. ¡°I said move! Do something! Don¡¯t just stand there like one of those fools. I did my part. Fixed your broken heart, and now it''s all up to you. Act the man you are. Take the control back. There will always be some voices. Don¡¯t listen. Don¡¯t hear. Be your own master!¡±


    Nomad stirred, blinking down at his feet, at the sword clasped in his hand. His fingers tightened around the handle as his emerald eyes glimmered with the Lich¡¯s fog. Breath caught in Valens¡¯s throat for a second before a smile stirred the rotten flesh dangling from the undead''s mouth. A bastard of a smile, but a smile nonetheless.


    He was back.


    ¡°That was painful,¡± he rasped, turning back to face the Oarfang. ¡°Bloody bones, it still hurts! You sure you fixed it for good?¡±


    Valens arched an eyebrow at him. ¡°I did. Was one of my best works, but the fog will sting. It''s there around your body ¡ª You know what, it¡¯s complicated. Important thing is that it looks like it''s working. You have to act the part, though. Do what the other Undead do.¡±


    ¡°And that is?¡±


    Valens jerked a thumb at the Oarfang. ¡°Clean the Necromancer¡¯s horde.¡±


    ¡°That¡­¡± Nomad shook his head as if to gather himself.


    ¡°What now?¡± Celme curled her lips at him. ¡°You¡¯re scared?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t confuse me with your kind, woman,¡± Nomad scoffed at him. ¡°I don¡¯t fear nothing. I just get the job done.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Valens said, patting him on the armor, after which Nomad shuffled strangely a step back. ¡°Now go. Get that beast¡¯s arms so that I can deal with it. These things give a lot of levels, you know?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve just sounded like an addict.¡± Nomad sighed. ¡°But I¡¯ve been there and done that. I get it. The Berserker doesn''t get to stay, though. She has to earn her keep.¡±


    ¡°Will do,¡± Celme said. ¡°I¡¯m sick and tired of this cave already. We need to put an end to this.¡±


    Valens felt a smile tugging at his lips. All the chaos around him¡­ He had to admit he was beginning to enjoy this.

 Chapter 29: The Healer

    Burning flames, and the scorching heat. Down in his back. Hot against his face. Bright, blooming light of the Lightmaster in his veins couldn¡¯t stop him from feeling it as tongues of it lashed at the Necromancer¡¯s horde. Leaving the Skeletons rotting and senseless in the din. Forcing the giant beasts back and back again.


    In the thick of it was that same man. Young and godless, accompanied by that crazy woman who Marcus couldn¡¯t help but stare at. She didn¡¯t even look him in the eye back in that lane. But that, he could understand. What he couldn¡¯t quite wrap his head around was who in the Lord¡¯s name was that man.


    A Priest wasn¡¯t supposed to know how to set the whole cave ablaze.


    Marcus felt his chest with his left hand. Dented hard from the middle, bits of it scratching against his gauntleted fingers, then down his waist where the straps of his chest piece were bound clumsily to keep the plates of his legs fixed.


    It almost seemed like that beast hadn¡¯t dismembered his waist clean from his body. Yet, the pain was still there, a ghostly thing lingering in the back of his mind, the sight of blood gushing out from the bowels of his gut, the stench of his own life seeping slowly away¡­ All fresh and there, but that man fixed him back. Stitched his legs right into his waist like he was patching a surface wound. Painfully professional and calm. Had him get back to the chaos when Marcus tried to thank him.


    How?


    A Skeleton Soldier came at him with the tip of its rusted spear held straight. Two men broke out from his back and lunged in, Ethan parrying the spear with the side of his axe and Parrek carving the foul beast¡¯s skull with one smooth cleave of his sword. They both turned worryingly to face him.


    Marcus blinked at them.


    Parrek wasn¡¯t having any of it. ¡°We should gather the men around you. Gather them fast. They¡¯re making us look bad over there. Look! The Undead bastards are about to reach the Necromancer!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s that Mage,¡± Ethan said, black eyes beyond the visor narrowing at the burning storm. ¡°Why is he running out in the front and what is that spell? The air¡¯s burning. I can feel it in my face.¡±


    ¡°Might be one of Altar¡¯s men,¡± Parrek grunted. ¡°Those bastards don¡¯t like losing.¡±


    ¡°They wouldn¡¯t send one of their own to death,¡± Ethan shook his head. ¡°That man¡­ I don¡¯t know what he is, but¡ª¡°


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t make any sense,¡± Marcus said, voice heavy. His aides turned at him, looking equally disturbed. ¡°I should¡¯ve been dead. Should¡¯ve died there when that Oarfang cut me through. Should¡¯ve been buried with honors in my chest, with my heart ready for the Eternal War.¡±


    ¡°That Mage did that?¡± Ethan lowered his gaze.


    ¡°Months of constant care and grace of the Lord. That¡¯s what it would¡¯ve taken a Priest to attach those legs back,¡± Marcus said. ¡°He did it in under one minute.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± Parrek swallowed.


    ¡°Say it,¡± Marcus forced him.


    ¡°Impossible,¡± Ethan finished for him. ¡°The battle craze can get to a man¡¯s head, Marcus. The lust and the thrill can flush your brain with confusion. I don¡¯t think your legs¡ª¡°


    ¡°You were right there with me!¡± Marcus jabbed a hand at them both, furious for being doubted. Lies never get you anywhere. But truth can be sometimes tricky.


    ¡°We were in the brawl with that undead, holding the lines,¡± Ethan said, shuffling uncomfortably on the heel of his left leg.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Barlan? He¡¯s the one who carried my legs back,¡± Marcus said, casting a gaze over the chaos before shaking his head. It wasn¡¯t important. He knew what he¡¯d seen and dared not to doubt it anymore. Mage and Priest both. There was only one explanation.


    Baht¡¯s cult. But a cult Master here in Melton? That doesn¡¯t make any sense.


    Then again, Baht¡¯s healers were famous for their rather crooked way of doing things. Helping people for no particular reason. Demanding only smiles and pats on the back as payment. Always in pursuit of the so-called Nine Core Dungeons of the world, seeking something dark that existed only in legends by masquerading as helpful wanderers.


    You don¡¯t get to learn the Inferno by becoming one of Baht¡¯s fools.


    They had their magic in that cult, but Inferno wasn¡¯t something you could get by simply belonging to a hidden cult. It demanded strict education and a genius so deep that only a few people in a Guild of thousands ever get to learn it. Even some of the famous Magi¡ª


    Marcus shook the thought off. That time was long past, now. He wasn¡¯t the failed disciple who couldn¡¯t learn how to wield the source of the world, cast away by the ones whom he deemed important, left all alone in a city of monsters anymore. No. He was a changed man. For better and worse. Becoming a Wing of the Duality Guild, respected and lauded by his men, taken under the Lightmaster¡¯s ever-sprawling grace was no simple feat.


    Lord, give me strength.


    He sucked in a deep breath, and let the [Sword¡¯s Grace] bless his weapon. He clenched the handle of the sword with two hands, marching onward, men flooding to his sides, the skeletons reeling back at their sight.


    The pure light of the sword fell hard over them like the Last Son himself came to claim their broken souls. He cleaved them apart and sent them crumbling down, took in the sight of their misery, trying not to look at the undead side.


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


    But he couldn''t help it. The storm was there over the chaos, stretching ever closer to the Necromancer, moving in ways that made him think his eyes were betraying him.


    You couldn¡¯t control a spell like an arm or a leg. It wasn¡¯t a weapon. A solid steel upon which you could impress your will. The spell formula was just a trigger and once the magic came alive, it became a thing of its own. A mindless lump of energy that knew no master.


    Unless you¡¯re an¡ª


    Nonsense. Melton had no Archmages, and the ones in the other countries who¡¯d claimed that mantle wouldn¡¯t come here to deal with a stubborn Necromancer. A Queststone of this magnitude wasn¡¯t enough to catch their eye. There were other horrors in the wide circle of the world, nightmares worse than a man-turned-lich trying to play a twisted little game.


    Get strong, and stronger still, and make them bow before you.


    Focus. Right. There were hundreds of men out there in the wild, men stronger than him, different in ways he couldn¡¯t comprehend. Best he stuck with the Lightmaster¡¯s plan. Best to reap the Necromancer¡¯s horde and reach Level 100. They might never get another Queststone like this.


    But then, he did owe his life to that strange Mage, and a debt left unpaid was against the Lord¡¯s code.


    ¡­¡­..


    Celme came jabbing down at the Oarfang, felt her fingers crunch against the solid bone, pushed her weight down and pushed the beast back, the [Battle Fury] raging in her mind. It was chaos around the cave, her vision streaked with lines of pure crimson, but chaos was where a Berserker felt right at home.


    She jumped down and threw herself to the side, watched the Oarfang¡¯s sword come cleaving across the stretch. It crushed into the ground and ruptured it wide, the flames of the storm coiling around the weapon in no time. Celme was on her feet, and then she was running around the beast that was busy trying to get its sword back, but Nomad was there, and he wasn¡¯t about to let it.


    Through the storm, into the wave that opened up before her, air reeking of rot and a great deal of burnt bones. This wasn¡¯t one of those average measly Fireballs. No, this one was one sprawling storm and there on the back stood its master.


    Valens had his lips curled tight, hands stretched out as he guided the edges of the storm. How was he doing it? Treating the storm as this living thing, and commanding it as though a Master to a slave. And it did listen. That was the oddity. How could you make mana listen to your thoughts? How could you heal something so broken with a wave of lifemana?


    She always thought magic was an alternative for the weak-willed men, a well in which people who lacked the resolve to face the horrors of the Broken Lands could find some relief. They got their fancy groups and long-bearded scholars who couldn¡¯t keep babbling about this mystery or that. As if this world worked on their so-called principles. As if the Damned would ever stop to hear a word from their endless wisdom.


    Safety of the closed walls. A sort of naive belief built upon the shoulders of the ones who held the lines. All cuddled back in their warm cities and waiting, talking, acting as though people weren¡¯t dying in the wilds.


    Then there were the Adventurers. Celme felt sick to her stomach at the thought of their unbridled indifference. Experiencing the world. Living the best of their lives. Catching this monster or that just for the sport of it.


    This world is sick.


    And that was why she gave an oath to the Lightmaster that she¡¯d help in cleansing the filth.


    Back on the Oarfang¡¯s side, fingers clenched tight and the beast¡¯s rotten bones right in her sight. She leapt and hooked a finger into its skull, swung herself around and brought her other fist whistling into its rough scalp. Felt something shift under her fingers.


    The beast hissed in that same painless cry as the other ungodly creatures, tried to raise the sword to Celme¡¯s head, stumbled when Nomad hacked at its legs. Down it looked and there it saw the storm of fire, melting the toe bones of its feet.


    Celme smiled, the metal of blood in her mouth. She jabbed the Oarfang¡¯s skull once, twice, and thrice, finally opening a hole big enough for her to reach deep. She plunged a hand into that patch, jerked it hard, and tore the greater part of the beast¡¯s head with teeth clenched.


    The Oarfang crumbled over its own rib cage.


    ¡®Ding¡¯ You have managed to defeat [Skeleton Oarfang - lvl 115]! For killing a creature above your own level, you are granted bonus experience.


    You have leveled up! 5 Stat Points granted!


    You have reached Level 100!


    For reaching Level 100, you have been granted your First Trial - The Trial of the Berserker I!


    For reaching Level 100, you have been granted Zodros¡¯ (Minor) Blessing!


    Divine light poured into her veins, making them thicker, boiling her blood until waves of smoke wafted off her skin. She could see them in the bright light of the storm, coiling around her nose. She could feel something was stirring deep underneath her heart.


    Her eyes were glued on the notification that told her she got the First Trial. She¡¯d been waiting for this too long. She--


    Child. I shall face the Necromancer now. The Lich will aid me. Take the other Wing and join me. Something is not right about this cave. Something is limiting our strength. I can feel it in the air. I need every able man for the battle.


    Celme snapped her head back at the human lines and saw the Lightmaster give her a strict nod. When she gazed deeply toward the Necromancer who was still perched over that large rock, she scowled.


    Give me strength.


    She clenched her fists and searched the chaos, found Marcus there staring at her with narrowed eyes. She motioned for him to get closer while taking her surroundings in sight. They were close. So close that she could feel the Necromancer¡¯s filthy magic.


    Pain crawled around her skin. Her heart tightened, the Inferno flames wavering around her. Something was pressing over them, hard, as if the air had gained a steely quality about it. It tried to steal the breath away from her lungs and leave her wheezing there. It tried to¡ª


    A soft tap on her back. Life poured into her heart and right through her lungs, lending her breath back. The slight sting under her feet and her bruised fingers slowly became as good as new. She sucked in a deep breath and felt her arms. There was no pain anymore.


    ¡°It''s him,¡± Valens said as he stepped beside her, that hand still on her back, eyes peering up at the Necromancer with fascination. ¡°I wonder if he¡¯s like those skeletons himself. Perhaps I can take a peek at his core. If I can cut the source line, I don¡¯t think his horde can support itself. But, in that case, would the System reward me for the whole horde or just him alone?¡±


    Celme¡¯s skin prickled when she saw the glint in the eyes of the healer. [Battle Fury] might¡¯ve kept her mind leashed and allowed her to focus on killing the foes, but still, she could feel the loss of life around her.


    But this man¡­ He looked like he was enjoying this. He was staring at the Necromancer as if the master of the horde, that hideous creature, was something to be studied and taken lessons from.


    ¡°You can¡¯t deal with him by yourself,¡± Celme said when she gathered herself. Steps sounded toward the back and a look over her shoulder showed her that Marcus and his company were here, waiting behind the veil of the burning storm. ¡°Lightmaster and the Undead Lich will move. Don¡¯t try anything stupid, Valens.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve just sounded like my Master.¡± Valens blinked at her, then shook his head. ¡°But I found, much to my amazement, that doing stupid things can sometimes be fun. I think I¡¯ll do that in this world. I like it quite much.¡±


    ¡°You¡­¡±


    ¡°Back. Back. Back!¡± Nomad¡¯s voice pulled her mind awake, and then she was staring at a pair of pupilless eyes, all black and lusterless, with that gnarled bony staff raised high in the air. Black light burst off from its tip and the wind picked up from behind.


    "Stay close to me,¡± Valens said, a smile playing on his lips. ¡°Looks like he¡¯s trying a new trick.¡±


    .....

 Chapter 30: Rain

    Rain started pouring in thick, slimy droplets from the ceiling, full of the Necromancer¡¯s filthy magic, hissing against the touch of any living thing, seeping through the skeletons¡¯ bones like a lifeline tailored to reinvigorate the fallen.


    Mountains of lifeless bones stirred and shifted before Valens¡¯s eyes. They were being made whole yet again, to move and continue the senseless slaughtering. To rise all at once and do their Master¡¯s bidding.


    There was no end to this madness. Not until somebody did something about that damned Magus.


    Valens moved in, fingers of his right hand curled to spread the Inferno over their heads. The sprawling storm burned the droplets. Coils of yellow smoke wafted off and eased down. Coated every bit of the cave just like Lord Zahul¡¯s fog. But this one was more insidious, more alive and dangerous, as it sought not to control, but destroy the living.


    One single breath, then Valens was onto the Oarfang corpse Celme had just dealt with, laying a hand over the stirring bones to feel its core. He saw the rotten sphere in his sound vision. Witnessed how that filthy mana was being pumped by the lifeline into the sphere once again.


    ¡°Hold this beast for me!¡± he yelled, then sent a pair of Lifesurges to untie the knots that bound the lifeline into the core. Carving the bones, crushing the skull, or even burning the damned thing as a whole¡ªthese were all temporary solutions. The only way to make sure this creature never became whole again was to sever the connection off.


    But there were dozens of Oarfangs in the din. Worse, Olifants were towering over them, just like the one Hook¡¯s team had defeated a moment ago. Hundreds of skeletons were coming to themselves, already pressing into the alliance¡¯s ranks, pressing tight into the men and undead staring aghast at the sudden development.


    Nomad and Celme came in close, and pressed their weights over the bones. Giving them a look, Valens plucked the last knot with the Lifesurges. The Oarfang¡¯s bones crumbled down in a dusty cloud, leaving the rot scrambling to find a way to dig in.


    It couldn¡¯t. It was just a mindless stream of energy, and without the core¡¯s pathways, it just splashed pitifully into the creature like a stubborn wave.


    There was no notification. Likely since the creature hadn¡¯t actually been brought back to life. Valens noted that in the depths of his mind, then moved with Nomad and Celme toward the Necromancer¡¯s tide.


    He was still perched atop that giant rock, staff raised high, dark eyes glinting under the hood of his robe. The black rain kept washing his beaten horde, washing them with filth, bringing them back and forcing them to keep the alliance¡¯s army away.


    Valens swept Celme with a gaze as they weaved through the shambling corpses. ¡°You¡¯ve said the Lightmaster and Lord Zahul will take care of¡ª¡°


    Green light streaked across from over them, a spear of wavering fog gleaming painfully sharp. Valens looked up as it lodged hard into the large rock upon which the Necromancer stood waiting. It burst off in a shower of gravel and dust, bits of it clanking against the armor of the men around them.


    ¡°So it begins,¡± Nomad said, looking over his shoulder to the Undead Lich. Lord Zahul was in the process of lowering that wooden cane of his as if he¡¯d just done dusting off its surface. ¡°Makes your skin crawl, eh? Makes you feel tiny and worthless when you see what a Lich¡¯s magic can do. But it''s not worth the price. It never is, when you¡¯re getting much power in the bargain. Never comes cheap, that sort of might.¡±


    Another spear screamed after Lord Zahul¡¯s opening rally, this one sending waves of golden light down in the cave as if the Lightmaster couldn¡¯t stand the notion of being bested by his undead counterpart. Its tip vanished into the cloud of dust from the earlier explosion, then disintegrated into a mess of sprawling lights that illuminated the whole cave like the morning sun.


    The rain stopped.


    Valens tipped his head back as he felt around the Resonance. Light magic wasn¡¯t something so widely practiced back in the Empire, except for the practical daily uses of ornamentation and room lighting.


    But you could, in theory, sharpen any light to a degree that could rival the tip of a masterly crafted spear, though it would take weeks of careful Warding to do what Lightmaster did with a wave of his hand. That, and probably a dozen gemstones all full of pure light mana.


    I caught a change of tune in the Resonance, so it must be a skill. But Lord Zahul¡¯s spear¡­ wasn¡¯t anything special. He just sent a part of his fog.


    The same one he used to impress his control upon the undead horde. To keep such a crowd fed must have been taking every speck of mana within him, which was likely why he didn¡¯t use any other magic in this state.


    Not like he needs anything other than that fog, though. A Master of a specific area. It''s better than trying to become a jack of all trades.


    Valens then thought just like the Necromancer, Lord Zahul too was a bad match to his talents. If there was one thing he learned from hampering Nomad''s Heartstone and dealing with skeletons, it was that he could cleanse those filthy mana sources so long as his mana reserves allowed him to keep at it.


    But he wasn¡¯t naive enough to think he could best an Undead Lich or a Necromancer in a race of mana reserves. Those two could keep hundreds of beings in control and explode rocks larger than houses like it was nothing in the process.


    It''s a mana pool issue. I need more Intelligence and Wisdom, then. I lack nothing in the theory field.


    Celme stirred beside him, motioning at a group of men to come under the burning storm. Valens saw a familiar face there. Looked like his legs were working just fine, and by the glint in his eyes, he did get his mind fixed in the chaos.


    Good for him.


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    ¡°You told me to stay away from the Necromancer,¡± Valens said, noting the urgent look in Celme¡¯s eyes. ¡°But now you¡¯re about to dive in, right? Can¡¯t let the Necromancer get up after all that.¡±


    ¡°You stay out of this,¡± Celme said and reached to pull the golden-armored man by her side, smoke wafting off her skin. Her blood already started boiling, eyes changing into a bloody crimson. ¡°We don¡¯t have much time.¡±


    ¡°It''s easy to ditch your men and rely on a damned freak to do your deed. Easy when there¡¯s a fucking firestorm burning everything on your path!¡± The man swatted Celme¡¯s hand away with the pommel of his sword, turned, and swept a hand over his pitiful group. ¡°But we had to earn our pass through here. Earn every pace of it with blood and sacrifice!¡±


    Celme clenched her fists. ¡°I¡¯ve lost my men, Marcus. Every single one of them in that hole the Lightmaster sent us. I¡¯ve sacrificed enough for this Queststone, and yet you still want to complain? To tell me I¡¯ve not suffered enough? I don¡¯t need men crying because of how unjust this world is when we have a mission to be about!¡±


    ¡°How are your legs?¡± Valens said, in part to alleviate the tension between the two, and in part since he was genuinely curious. He tapped a hand over the man¡¯s waist and felt him with a Lifeward as he stared awkwardly at him. ¡°Hmm. Your muscles are pulling, huh? You need a rest, but guess it''s not an option here. Then do try to go for small moves. Don¡¯t go swinging that sword high, or they¡¯re going to tear apart.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Celme and Marcus blanked at him.


    ¡°You have to be careful about these things.¡± Valens shrugged, and let the Inferno dissolve when he couldn¡¯t feel the Necromancer¡¯s rain anymore. With his recently gained stats, he got a good boost to his mana reserve, but best to keep some in case things go wrong. ¡°The treatment is important, but rest is what makes it really work.¡±


    The ground underneath his feet shook as an undead came lumbering from the lines, holding a spiked mace over his shoulder. Valens felt Nomad tense before Hook got a sight of him. Then he lowered his head, lifted his sword high, and waited in nervous silence.


    Hook¡¯s steely armor was riddled with deep gashes. His helmet was gone, a part of his skull dented hard from the side. Seemed like dealing with that Olifant came with a price.


    ¡°Out of the way, human,¡± he rasped. So, that blow he¡¯d gotten to his skull hadn¡¯t changed him the slightest. Another marvel of the undead anatomy. ¡°And don¡¯t you ever summon that storm back. It¡¯s bloody hot in the cave already.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t have much time. Lightmaster is here,¡± Celme said, then swept Marcus¡¯s group with a fierce glance. ¡°Move.¡±


    Then they moved, Nomad tailing the Undead Chief, trying to act as if he was under the control of the Undead Lich, Celme heading toward the dusty cloud with Marcus and the other men behind. Everybody moved, and they left Valens there all alone.


    So Valens followed after them. It was one thing doing good and expecting nothing in return, but not actually getting anything felt worse than he¡¯d remembered. Not even a thanks, which was just rude. That bothered him.


    When have I started feeling this way?


    It was odd. Being a Resonant Healer was a thankless job. Back in the day, Valens had scarcely expected anything from his patients. Just seeing them get well or completing a particularly difficult operation was satisfying enough.


    But now he wanted to hear it. Wanted to see people cherish his contributions. To tell him that he¡¯d done a good job dealing with those skeletons. That they couldn¡¯t have done it without him. That they owed him their lives.


    He reached for the web of Apathy over his emotions. It should¡¯ve been removing whatever could hamper his way of thinking, but it didn¡¯t work like that. It let some of the frustrations pass through.


    Why don¡¯t you work? I don¡¯t like this.


    But when he tried to manage that web with a pair of Lifesurges, nothing changed.


    So be it. Might as well do the deed, and make a show of it.


    Light Feet pushed him onward, through broken lines Nomad and Celme¡¯s teams had left behind. He could feel two presences over the Resonance, stark notes too high for him to miss. Lightmaster had a peaceful cadence about him that seemed similar to that of a pulsing light, meanwhile, Lord Zahul¡¯s rhythm was one roaring beat, like a war drum thumping strong at each one of his steps.


    Then another presence made itself known once Valens neared the broken rock. The Necromancer was one dark silhouette in the fluttering dust cloud, pupilless eyes sending a shiver down Valens¡¯s back. With a wave of his gnarled staff, he beckoned the horde closer, and the skeletons obliged, establishing tight circles with him as the center point.


    Hook¡¯s spiked mace obliterated the little Skeleton Soldiers with brutal precision, Nomad and the undead group dealing with the rest. Celme¡¯s team was by their side, the Berserker making a scene of her own with two bare fists that seemed strangely effective at breaking bones.


    Onward, through one layer after another, they opened up the way for their Masters. Faithful servants and the chaotic din. Men and undead pressing forward. All reflected over the Necromancer¡¯s dark eyes.


    He seemed calm. Too calm for a Magus surrounded by hundreds of enemies, save for all the Wards behind his back. Olifants and Oarfangs fell around him, but he scarcely spared a glance for them. Instead, his eyes were fixed on Valens alone, and his mouth had parted in a way that made him feel nervous.


    Why would he smile?


    But then, Valens had to admit he too was enjoying this in a way he couldn¡¯t quite comprehend. The chaos and the songs of the world were just background noise in his mind. There was only one man out in the front, and that man was waiting for him.


    Light sizzled wide over the ceiling, then fell in a shower of sparks as Lightmaster took a simple step forward. He was back there with his army one second, but that step carried him through the lines and brought him forth in a streaking light until he was only a few paces away from the Necromancer.


    You¡­ can actually do that.


    Why not travel upon the light when you could grind it into a spear? If it was solid enough to puncture a rock, then surely it could carry a man of Lightmaster¡¯s stature across the cave.


    Genius.


    Green fog rolled and wavered all around him, tendrils of it slithering toward the Necromancer. Dozens of death mana streaks reached out to the place where the Lightmaster stood ahead, with Celme and Marcus behind him, and merged into a giant wave beside the Light Magus that formed the outline of a rather slender man.


    Hook dragged his spiked mace, wincing around the silhouette, and had his men establish a clear line behind him. A wooden cane jutted out from the wavering outline and thumped hard into the ground, and there a moment after Lord Zahul was standing with his back bent rather strangely.


    Valens lurched a step back when a stray Skeleton Soldier came swinging its sword at him, stumbled, and nearly fell, the weapon hissing an inch away from his face. He¡¯d been too caught up with the sight of them to feel the Resonance around him. Too focused on the real battle when the two armies still clashed against each other.


    A Fireball came alive around his fingers. He jerked himself up and showed himself on the right, skirted left when the Skeleton Soldier swung at that side, shoving the Fireball into the back of its skull. The flames lashed down and stabbed at the animated corpse¡¯s ribcage, caught it round, and burned it till there was no rot left.


    ¡®Ding¡¯ You have managed to defeat [Skeleton Soldier - lvl 75]! For killing a creature above your own level, you are granted bonus experience.


    With that, Valens shook himself off and trudged out into the open. He got odd looks from the men and Undead around him as he slowly dragged his legs to the front. Nomad was still keeping his head down, but Celme gave him a hard look.


    ¡°What?¡± Valens asked, slightly offended. ¡°At least let me get a front-seat view. I¡¯m quite excited to witness a battle between Warmagi. This will be my first one.¡±


    ¡°Just keep your hands where I can see them,¡± Celme said, jaw set tight. ¡°This isn¡¯t going to be pretty.¡±


    ¡°So you say?¡± Valens shook his head. ¡°I guess I¡¯ll have to see it for myself.¡±

 Chapter 31: The Necromancer

    ¡°Maggots and worms,¡± the Necromancer hissed with a voice like snakes slithering over the wet, muddy ground.  ¡°Skittering through the wilds, too blind to see the path, insisting still on the old ways, flailing deep in the mud. This world needs not men like you anymore. Your false Gods lived too long in their forged peace, but the end is nigh, and it''s coming for all the enemies of the Damned.¡±


    His skin was sickly pale, paler than a corpse¡¯s, scratched hard as if he¡¯d made a habit of using his nails on his face. The hood and the robe shaded most of his frame, but Valens could see through his sound vision that the man had a clean pate that lacked any sort of hair.


    There was a gravity to his stature, a certain confidence in the way he carried himself. That, and the contempt with which he regarded them as if the act of commanding hundreds of skeletons somehow elevated his status to that of a God.


    All that power and those bones. Valens felt something stir inside of him. He¡¯d managed to claw his way up to Level 64, and already he could see how this power was changing him. Bringing possibilities, making him think about things that would¡¯ve never crossed his mind. You could do a lot so long as you had the power for it.


    This man looked like he had, and he had decided to use it for purposes beyond his understanding.


    It¡¯s a matter of perspective, but he¡¯s barely more than a corpse. Why would anyone do such a thing?


    ¡°You filthy creature!¡± Lightmaster¡¯s voice boomed in the cave, quieting the sounds of clashes around them. He jabbed a thick finger into the Necromancer¡¯s face, light cascading down his back. ¡°Your kind is the plague of this world. Parasites clung stubbornly to the lives of men, full of lust, and ambition, and chaos. Your presence serves only a single purpose, one that I gave an oath to annihilate!¡±


    The Necromancer crackled with mad laughter at the words, blinking at the Lightmaster. ¡°That is one high horse you¡¯re riding on, Lightmaster! Thinking yourself all precious and radiant, walking the sacred path of a mission drilled into your mind, caring not about the truth of it. Such hypocrisy! Serving your god, have you? To cleanse the Damned off the world, you wish? You are not worthy!¡±


    "It''s wet up here, wet and damp,¡± came a voice, rasping with a weight so heavy that Valens couldn¡¯t help but stare at the Undead Lich. He was shaking his head, both hands resting over his wooden cane. ¡°There¡¯s nothing worse than a damp cave for your bones.¡± He let out a weary sigh. ¡°Isn¡¯t that so, Chief?¡±


    ¡°It is, my Lord,¡± Hook grunted.


    ¡°Must we suffer each time that wicked witch catches one of the senseless humans with her promises? Must their kind be so foolish to believe a power of such magnitude will come without a price?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve found that is indeed the case, my Lord. They are almost always foolish and stupid.¡±


    ¡°Such is our fate. Cursed with duty, eh?¡± Lord Zahul breathed out, raising one bony finger into the Necromancer¡¯s face. ¡°Tell me, young man, what is it that you truly seek? Don¡¯t you know the undead is already burdened with the weight of the Eternal War? Speak, and do choose your words carefully, for I am not in the best of mind to endure the delusions of a broken soul.¡±


    ¡°After how these humans treated you, you still take their side?¡± the Necromancer hissed at him. ¡°You have no honor to claim, Lich. You are nothing but a dog tamed and leashed by its Masters!¡±


    ¡°A dog, I am,¡± Lord Zahul nodded at him. ¡°But there are worse things than a dog, don¡¯t you think? Or do you reckon becoming the tool of the Tainted Father is a fate better than our own?¡± He smiled, but it was a sad smile that made Valens feel odd. ¡°I am keeping the demons caged in the bowels of this world. I¡¯m fighting the war promised to all able-bodied men on this very earth. Now tell me again, what is it that you do other than to stir up trouble nowadays? Just for the chaos of it, eh? So that your Tainted Father can find more souls to claim? I reckon that¡¯s not very kind of you.¡±


    ¡°These Necromancers are almost never kind enough, my Lord,¡± Hook muttered, clicking his jaw. ¡°But we have wasted precious time. Those demons aren¡¯t going to kill themselves.¡±


    ¡°That is indeed the case,¡± Lord Zahul nodded, then flicked another finger up to the Necromancer. ¡°Go on. We are ready, are we not, Lightmaster?¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Lightmaster shuffled nervously beside the Undead Lich, looking greatly disturbed. ¡°We are¡­ Lich.¡±


    ¡°Good!¡± Lord Zahul said, looking at him. ¡°Show me your grace, then. There has been a shortage of talented apprentices on our side lately. Enough that I almost wish this young man kill you so that I can have my Forgemasters turn you into a Lich! Hahaha!¡±


    Valens swallowed. For some reason, he felt that Lord Zahul wasn¡¯t simply teasing the Lightmaster for the sake of it. Somewhere in his words, there was some truth.


    ¡°You will learn¡­ You will learn to respect me!¡± the Necromancer growled with cold fury. ¡°And I will enjoy forging your bones, Lich. Enjoy crushing your Heartstone and filling it with my rot! You and that Lightmaster both. You will make good additions to my flock. But my true prize is there, waiting for me. I¡¯m glad you¡¯ve brought such precious company to my doorstep.¡±


    His eyes swiveled to Valens and his mouth parted into a sickly smile, which made everybody turn toward him as well.


    The Lightmaster¡¯s golden eyes narrowed down to slits, fingers of his right hand gleaming with burning lights. The Undead Lich¡¯s foggy eyes weighed him down as though the Magus was trying to see something there deep in his heart.


    The Apathy stretched tight, and Valens straightened his back. He faced both Magi and stood his ground.


    ¡°Another day for the Damned, and a worthy sacrifice for the Tainted Father,¡± the Necromancer said, raising his gnarled staff that was slathered with death mana. ¡°Arise, my knight! Show me your worth!¡±


    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    The ground ruptured underneath his feet, fissures stretching out in a web of cracks. Valens scowled when he felt the shift in the Resonance. Something was wrong. The scattered rhythm that suddenly appeared made no sense to him.


    Until he saw a giant hand jerk up from the ground. It grabbed a large patch of earth, grabbed it tight, and hauled itself growling up to its feet. Dark armor gleamed under the Lightmaster¡¯s lights, coating the giant creature¡¯s body from tip to toe. Clasped in its hands was a terrible sword that had one side jagged with nicks so sharp that for a second Valens thought he was looking at a rather big saw.


    [Death Knight - Lvl ???]


    He shivered. This creature¡¯s Resonance¡­ It was aligned with the Necromancer¡¯s frequencies, merging into a high cadence that seemed unusually alive. Unlike the other animated corpses, this creature was being fed by the Necromancer¡¯s rot like an unborn baby still resting in its mother¡¯s womb.


    Interesting.


    Valens breathed in, and the Inferno roared alive at the tip of his fingers, stretching out in a streak of burning light to coil around the Death Knight¡¯s armored feet. He made sure he got a good hold of them both, then jerked his hands back, putting all the strength he could muster for the effort.


    The creature hardly budged. It was a monstrous being towering over the rest of the undead, peering down with lusterless eyes behind its visor as if trying to understand what this little human was trying to do.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Celme asked with a rasping voice, frowning at him. ¡°What the hell are you¡ª¡°


    ¡°Taking control,¡± Valens said. ¡°It''s not my intention to wait and see how this creature will take a swing with that hideous sword at us. I¡¯m sure Lord Zahul and Lightmaster will agree.¡±


    They didn¡¯t. They looked at him all blankly and surprised, eyes judging him as if he was some mystery waiting to be discovered. Valens shrugged. He was scarcely the most interesting case here, considering one of them was a Lich and the other basically a human-shaped Warded light bulb.


    It was his thinking that making the first move would give some semblance of an advantage to the warring Magus, and even if the Inferno didn¡¯t work as he hoped, that hardly meant it was pointless at all. It could serve well as a distraction.


    He raised one hand into the air, letting the Inferno dissolve as Gravitating Earth pulled at his mind. He focused on the cracked patch of earth underneath the giant, felt the muddy soil stir at his will, felt it growing loose and wide, then swept his hand sideways to remove that patch.


    The hulking beast plunged down as the ground around it ruptured in a wave of thick dust, and plunged deeper still, until it vanished down below the earth. Behind, the Necromancer¡¯s pupilless eyes widened in response, which sent some satisfaction down Valens¡¯s chest.


    Taking initiative. Seemed he was right, after all.


    A shadow lunged out from the newly opened hole in the ground. Valens tensed. It moved impossibly fast and made for the line of men standing before the Necromancer. Valens caught Celme by the arm, held her tight, and dragged her back as the shadow took a wide sweep at them.


    Dark steel screeched as it ripped into a number of undead too slow to react. It made clean work of them, severing their skulls from their bodies and sending them rolling back to the side. Twisting through the air, it took another sweep at the Lightmaster and Lord Zahul both.


    Hook was on it as if he expected it. A rasping, rattling breath escaped his jaw as he hauled the spiked mace high and pulled himself out in front of the Undead Lich. The dark sword lunged at him like a shadowy streak, crashing into the shaft of his weapon, sending him sliding back, back until he nearly rammed into his own Lord. But he did manage to parry the blow, forcing the Death Knight to retreat toward its master.


    ¡°Oh,¡± was the Undead Lich¡¯s response to the heroic act. ¡°It is one of those, then.¡±


    Valens sucked in a shivering breath. A mountain of steel and bones couldn¡¯t have possibly moved that fast. It didn¡¯t make any sense. The more you focused on the Strength stat, the more you should have gotten muscled and clunky, not the opposite.


    ¡°That was a good move, young man.¡± Lord Zahul turned to him. ¡°But these creatures are notorious for their quick feet. You don¡¯t baby round a Death Knight without a reason. They take time, and gentle care, and a great deal of mana on the Necromancer¡¯s end. The result is an abomination. Pity we can¡¯t do that in the Underworld.¡±


    ¡°You want one of those ungodly creatures in your sacred war?¡± The Lightmaster didn¡¯t seem to take his words lightly. He almost seemed offended, even, as he gave the Lich a side-eyed glance.


    ¡°Why not?¡± Lord Zahul said. ¡°The more the merrier. It''s a bloody job in the Depths, Lightmaster, and a bloody job demands a certain degree of madness. That there is one good specimen. It would do good. More than good, in fact, it would do great against the lessers. Don¡¯t you think so, Chief?¡±


    ¡°Shame that it doesn¡¯t have a heart, my Lord,¡± Hook nodded, face still strained. ¡°But reckon I could¡¯ve made good use of men like it if I¡¯d had any.¡±


    ¡°Alas,¡± Lord Zahul muttered. ¡°We are cursed to meet the most egregious expectations with the least of sources available in our hands. Such is our fate.¡±


    He¡¯s too strange as if he¡¯s burdened with some laborious work on a holiday. Quite the difference between him and the Lightmaster.


    The Lightmaster held burning orbs in both of his hands, his lips stretched tight in a deep frown. He gestured with his eyes to the men behind him, Celme and Marcus shifting as they took in the command.


    Valens looked at them, then back at the Death Knight. There was little hope that the group could best a creature like that, but beyond the lines, the men and the undead alliance were still battling against the Necromancer¡¯s horde. Hundreds of them were bloodied in the din and barely had a chance to join this little circle.


    It will have to do.


    ¡°Take the knight,¡± Lord Zahul said, nodding at Hook and his team, then turned to Valens. ¡°You stay close to me, young man. I¡¯m especially fond of people reckless enough to choose a special Class, and it¡¯d tear my Heartstone apart to see you get bloodied by that creature.¡±


    Valens shuffled nervously to his side, breathing in the stench of his deathly mana. It reeked of rot and pus, and¡­ lavender? His eyes widened slightly. Seemed the Undead Lich had a fashionable side to him.


    Meanwhile, Hook spread his team wide, Nomad tailing him still, Celme and Marcus joining them as they stood against the Death Knight. They were over thirty strong, more hands and harder faces that could take a couple of Olifants no doubt. Still, Valens felt it wasn¡¯t enough. They seemed pitifully small against the Death Knight¡¯s menacing bulk.


    It¡¯s their fight. They can manage.


    Right. He settled his focus back on the Necromancer whose eyes remained fixed on him, only to pause when dark light poured forth as the mage thumped his staff to the ground. The Wards behind him sent their tendrils whistling forward, forcing Valens to take a step back.


    ¡°The promise of a rest,¡± Lord Zahul said in a low voice. ¡°How alluring.¡±


    Dozens of tendrils all clad in the Necromancer¡¯s filthy mana, tips glinting painfully sharp, reaching forward in a sprawling web, and there Valens stood with the two other Magi against them.


    ¡°I¡¯ll deal with the Wards,¡± he said, raising his chin. ¡°You can take their Master.¡±


    ¡°Confident as well,¡± Lord Zahul praised him with a small smile. ¡°You go do that, young man. Take them all.¡±


    Green fog slithered forward as the Undead Lich grasped his wooden cane. Then there was golden light, spilling from the orbs in Lightmaster¡¯s hands. It was the first time Valens found himself facing another Magus like him but had little time to consider the implications.


    ......

 Chapter 32: Warmage

    Valens sprang forward, Light Feet carrying him toward the whistling tendrils, onward through the broken ground, breath rasping in his chest. Nearly ten Wards were wriggling at the back of the Necromancer, stretched in a row like a score of highly disciplined soldiers.


    Except these creatures had dozens of spear-like limbs, and this close to their Master, Valens could feel the difference in their Resonances. The source line feeding their cores seemed to be cherishing the Necromancer¡¯s rot, cherishing it well like a group of children happy to be around their ever-loving parents.


    But it hardly mattered. So long as he could lay a hand over their bodies, he could untie the sourceline and turn them limp. That was the plan, either way.


    Tongues of flame came alive on the tip of his fingers as he pushed himself sideways, pulling barely through a lashing tendril and smacking it with the back of his fiery palm. The stretching, elastic skin of the creature popped when the Fireball ripped into it, dark smoke wafting off from where it burned a dozen holes.


    That gave him confidence. The last time he faced one of these creatures, his war magic scarcely made a noticeable change. He had to personally operate on its core with a Lifesurge to kill the creature.


    Yet this time they couldn¡¯t even shrug off a simple Fireball.


    What about Inferno, then?


    The lashing tongues roared forth and sprawled into a storm of fire that stretched across the distance. Valens then stopped, peering round the alighted cave, before taking a step back to draw the Wards away from their Master.


    Chaos raged by his side, the green fog hissing, the deathly mana seeping through the cracks of the earth. Beyond, each lurching step of the Death Knight sent a tremor that rocked the ground from within. Swords clanked off its dark carapace, sending a shower of sparks about it. Men and women pressed hard into it, got bloodied whenever that hideous sword made for a sweep.


    Valens¡¯s nose was filled with the stench of death and golden light, and the rot working underneath the Wards¡¯ tendrils.


    Light Feet carried him onward to the side as the Wards ripped their way across the burning storm. There was no pain, no particular response to when their skin popped against the burning heat, but when Valens sent a lashing chain at their Master there was a reaction.


    They grew restless, poking at him from all around, sending their tendrils screeching into the air. Valens covered himself with the storm, and relied on his sound vision to find openings through their assault.


    Step by step he began to close the distance, stubbornly clinging to the spell, refusing to give in against the promise of a silent escape. He spent all his life accepting the rules of another. All throughout his youth he kept his head low, and tried not to think too much about it.


    There were rules, Master Eldras would say to him, laws that preceded them that they couldn¡¯t undo. So they must accept, and act only in the shadows. Never show your true colors. Be another face in the crowd.


    The crowd here was all mad and senseless. Warring against horrors of the world. Dying for a purpose that Valens couldn¡¯t quite comprehend. Yet they kept at it, undead and men both, and there was something refreshing about that.


    Embrace the changes. Fill the role you¡¯ve been given.


    And today, that role was to be a true Warmage.


    A tendril broke through the storm and streaked toward his face. Valens tipped his head back. Raised an arm and caught the tendril right over his wrist, felt the burn of the wound like a biting thought in the back of his mind.


    The limb yanked at him even as it melted against the furious flames, and that gave him the time to send a Lifesurge through the sizzling tendril. Invigorated, thick threads of lifemana tore into the creature. Unlike the last time, they breezed through the yellow rot, splashing the waves of foul mana against the walls of its inner web, then oozed easily into the core.


    There they latched at the sourceline, and smashed into the knots. Tearing them apart was one smooth effort that gave Valens an insidious satisfaction. Dangerous thoughts, they were. It was too easy now.


    ¡®Ding¡¯ You have managed to defeat [The Necromancer¡¯s Ward - lvl 127]! 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!


    It took him but a second to deal with the cursed thing, then he was walking, the storm growing, the Wards uneasy and shivering round the back. There in their Resonance was something novel that Valens hadn¡¯t caught before. A sudden spike that told him they were¡­ afraid.


    I¡¯ve become a terrible, terrible Healer.


    He let out a smile as another tendril caught him below the stomach. Foolish creatures thinking they could outbest a Resonant Healer¡¯s control. Valens washed the wound with a wave of lifemana, stopped the bleeding, his mind standing steel against the pain, then sent a pair of Lifesurges drilling into the limb.


    Confidence rose within him, spilling like a wave of pleasure burning into his heart. A Healer felt at home whenever he was in the proximity of his clinic, but looked like a Warmage could turn anywhere into his home with a simple spell.


    ¡®Ding¡¯ You have managed to defeat [The Necromancer¡¯s Ward - lvl 125]! For killing a creature above your own level, you are granted bonus experience.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    You have leveled up! 5 Stat Points granted!


    You have leveled up! 5 Stat Points granted!


    Another tendril to his left thigh. Right into one of the gemstones. This one bounced back like a spear crushed into a wall of steel, but Valens caught it before it could draw back, clasped it tight in the palm of his hand, and sent his surges across its inner web.


    More. He needed more. These Wards couldn¡¯t do anything against him. They had no thoughts. Not a speck of intelligence to see and understand he was a bad match to their specific talents. A bad match to all creatures of deathly origins, that is.


    I¡¯m still fighting against death, aren¡¯t I?


    He saw green fog thrash away out of the corner of his eye. The edge caught the back wall of the cave, right under the ceiling, snapped a big piece of rock, and sent it hurling down to the Necromancer.


    The dark mage spared a momentary glance at the approaching rock, the tails of his robe flapping in the wind, and thumped his staff to the ground. Dark mana pooled over him and stretched into a slimy blanket, caught the man-sized rock like a spider¡¯s web, and covered every bit of it in a lusterless black. Then it tightened hard, ate away the rock, bit by bit, crumbling it into tiny gravel that he let rain over the battling crowd.


    That slight pause gave the Lightmaster a chance to send a streak of golden light into the Necromancer¡¯s chest. The dark mage reeled back, dragging his bony staff across the ground to resist the burning mana. He hissed out a rasping laugh, and it was a vile sound that sent shivers all across Valens¡¯s skin.


    Before he knew it, the Lightmaster was flailing beside the Undead Lich. His mouth frothed with spit, breath gurgling in his throat, fingers of his right hand clawing at his face as if an invisible hold was choking him tight.


    Lord Zahul tried to move in to help him, but a pair of slithering snakes, formed solely from the Necromancer¡¯s filthy mana, managed to seep into his robe, making for the Heartstone thumping in his chest. That gave him no time to do anything for the light mage.


    What¡¯s happening? They look¡­ too weak against the Necromancer. Something is strange with their frequencies as well¡ª


    A tendril squelched into Valens¡¯s chest. Stabbed at him hard, and missed his heart by a hair¡¯s length. The tip of it wriggled further deep through the flesh to find something, anything that would break him, blood gushing down the newly opened wound, spilling wet over his skin.


    Pain bloomed in the Resonance. He winced, breath wheezing in his chest, and stumbled back. Wrapped a shaky hand around the tendril and tried to regain his focus. But it was spilling, the ground trembling, everything about the cave melting into a mess of light and stark colors.


    The Inferno slipped slowly away from his hold. Disoriented, but he could feel it at the edge of his skin like a thread he wrapped around his index finger.


    He lurched out a step, the tendril yanking him down. There was no time to scrutinize the wound, so he washed his flesh with a wave of lifemana, watched a great part of it spill aimlessly into the rotten air. It did give some semblance of a mind back to him, but it took the Inferno away, the embers of the storm dying all around him.


    Then he was facing the Wards. All seven of them, their freakish forms ever-changing as they wriggled in a heap of tendrils and burnt skin. He was close now, so close that he could feel their fear in the Resonance. There was something else. A presence like a deafening cry over the Resonance.


    He couldn¡¯t look back. Not after he¡¯d paid a grim price for a single glance. The Necromancer was not his problem.


    Roaring madness and the taste of blood. Brightening his eyes. Clearing his mind. Thoughts became silent, then went off. Gone was the tight hold he¡¯d kept around his steely Apathy.


    He became nothing in the din. Just a tool sharpened for the occasion, sent here to complete the deed. A tendril caught him below the armpit. Another one drilled him through the chest. He bled, he cursed, and he killed them both with teeth clenched tight.


    There was little time to think, then there was no time at all, him and the Wards, their forms growing limp, the cave stretching forth in a wavering mess. Blurry vision through all of it. Blinking made scarcely a difference. He had his sound vision keeping him company, and it seemed it was all he needed.


    Notifications dinned inside his ears, chest burning, his mana pool drying. The bones of his ribcage cracked where the limbs got him. He couldn¡¯t manage them all, so he let some of it spill. Made an effort through the pain. Nothing quite as fascinating. Being alive. This must be the thrill soldiers couldn¡¯t stop telling him about.


    Then the Resonance crashed down into a cadence that brought him back. He found himself in the deep of another Ward, gazing at its molten core, watching as the Necromancer¡¯s sourceline pumped filthy rot inside. Up high in the dark of the Ward¡¯s body, the thread was going¡­ somewhere.


    Valens paused, chest heaving with breath. He sent a Lifeward upward to see the source of it. He couldn¡¯t quite understand how the Necromancer constantly fed its minions, but this close, he could trail the magic of it. The sourceline grew tight up above, and tighter still, until he couldn¡¯t see it anymore. Yet he felt it. The Necromancer¡¯s oozing pus, shaded by a play of colors, unseen to the naked eye.


    When he tried to move further ahead in the Ward¡¯s body, his Lifeward splashed hard against something solid. The invisible line went beyond it, but the barrier kept him caged inside. He couldn¡¯t reach where he presumed the center of the Ward¡¯s connection to the Necromancer.


    I can break it.


    He ground the tips of his Lifesurge threads sharper until they started gleaming inside the core. Then he sent pairs of them stabbing at the barrier. Once. Twice. Thrice. Felt it crack after a number of attempts, and pushed harder, blood trickling down his chin. Wet and warm. He was alive, still breathing. This wasn¡¯t the time for excuses. A Warmagus should thrive in the thick of battle.


    The barrier broke. Valens felt his heart stir when a Lifeward oozed through the broken pieces. Deep down it went, and stretched, painting the picture of a canal as dark as the Necromancer¡¯s filth. The dimensions of it felt different, just like the time he¡¯d used the Void Sphere. It seemed pointlessly small, yet wide in a way he couldn¡¯t quite put it.


    But onward he pushed, keeping the Lifeward alive. It wormed its way like a stubborn beast, wriggling through a yellowish river, the rot coming in waves from beyond. It took the Lifeward a moment to let Valens see the end of the canal. A bright light welcomed him on the edge.


    Then Valens gasped. Took a step back, stumbling, his control over mana flailing. There were only two Wards left before him whose tendrils caught him from all around his body. They seemed flustered, frustrated as if they couldn¡¯t understand how this tiny human could stand his ground after getting riddled like a hedgehog.


    ¡°Beautiful,¡± Valens muttered, mind reeling as he gazed at the scene the Lifeward painted over the Resonance. It was a structure of blinking lights, some larger than the others, some on the brink of bleeding out, some already having lost their gleam. Dozens of them in the web, with the largest one burning in the middle of it, connected to the others by sourceline canals.


    It was Void. Master Eldras¡¯s life¡¯s work, displayed here beyond what Valens could have ever imagined. The Necromancer squashed the dimensions in such a way that he kept them hidden from the eyes, stored them inside his core, from where he fed every single one of his minions. And he didn¡¯t have to do anything to keep them alive, as these creatures were all a part of him that shared a single mind.


    Valens could see it from here. Could see it clear as day, and he could use the canals to reach the Necromancer¡¯s core. The one light burning bright over the others. The one that fed them all.


    So he did that. He sent his Lifesurges whistling toward the big bad magus.

 Chapter 33: Boundaries

    The Lifesurge threads squished tight between the intricate canals of the web, pushing their way across the stretch with burning ambition. Valens kept one eye over them, the other eye resting on the wriggling Wards too stubborn to quit.


    They had him fixed there on the ground by several tendrils. Time and time again they lashed at him, and Valens kept them at bay with waves of lifemana. He couldn¡¯t make a move at them without messing up his control over the Lifesurges. He couldn¡¯t spend another thread to deal with them both. He needed them alive to reach the Necromancer¡¯s web. He needed them alive¡ª


    But damned if it hurt. It hurt so much. His body was aflame, veins burning under his ribcage, waves of excruciating agony lancing up from his thighs. Blood pooled in the mud beneath him. Painted it a vile, brownish crimson. The air reeked of his own life seeping away, and the rot of the monsters stuck with him.


    His teeth crunched against each other when he clamped his jaw shut. He focused solely on the sound vision, on the Lifesurge threads trying to find their way into the Necromancer¡¯s dot. They bashed against the edges of the canals, lost their course mid-way, and got jerked around like mindless stones rolling down a maze of caves.


    Until finally, they came across a particularly large dot blinking dangerously bright. There was no way to skirt around it. He had to pass them through it if he wanted to reach the center of the web. Clenching his teeth, Valens sent his surges drilling into the dot, paused when a surprised hiss dinned in his ears.


    Is this an Oarfang?


    Lifeward pushed right after the surges. Painted the creature¡¯s frame in his mind. Heavy bones, full of waves sloshing with the Necromancer¡¯s rot. His surges splashed into it as if Valens himself had laid a hand over its sturdy structure, and speared their way up to its core.


    Untying the knots of the sourceline, he hardly had the time to check the notification before he continued his way. One source line after another, the Oarfangs hissing, the Olifants screaming in his mind, the chaos, the zest of it all, burning deep in his chest, burning him with the dangerous satisfaction.


    Miles and miles of canals. An endless pursuit in which he came close to losing himself. Too much. There was just too much in this web for him to understand. How was the Necromancer doing this? How giant of a mana pool would you need to keep an army of them fed all at once?


    He was a fly, a tiny insect against this terrible magus¡¯s deep reserves. But tiny as he might be, he just needed a single hole to dig his way in. He wouldn¡¯t even see it coming. The bastard was busy fighting off the Undead Lich and the Lightmaster both.


    Resistance on the way. Valens felt his control growing weak. Felt the strength seep through his fingers. His skin prickled. Then it went cold. A sudden cold that had him shiver senseless in the din.


    He was about to succumb to it. Getting too tired to continue. What was he thinking? He was no Warmagus of the old, the ancient masters who could wield any element by their will. He had no experience. Blocking the pain and acting as if he didn¡¯t feel anything, thinking he could just do it by simply relying on Apathy.


    Foolish of him. Foolish and pointless. This wasn¡¯t his world. He was lost. Had nowhere to go back. His bones rattled as the emptiness in his chest started gnawing at his flesh. There was scarcely any mana left in his body to keep at it. He should have stayed his hand. Let the monsters of this world fight their own battles.


    Another tendril caught him below the chin. It stole the breath out of him, digging deeper still, trying to wrap around his windpipe and crush it. Valens jerked a hand up and caught it hard. Pulled at it as blood poured from between his fingers. Flames coated his palm and splattered up to the stubborn limb.


    They burned, and Valens watched. Numbness spread around his arms and his chest. Pain became a distant thought. Too much of it that he couldn¡¯t feel it anymore. Awareness was lost in the waves of agony.


    The ground started shaking. All around him, the human and undead alliance pressed into the Necromancer¡¯s horde. Towering giants fell in waves of thick dust and broken bones. They were gaining ground. Bit by bit they clawed away the numbers of their godless foes.


    Dark lights poured forth. The Lightmaster screamed, Lord Zahul weaving a barrier of green fog before them to stop the barrage of streaking rot. It disintegrated into a mess of blinking lights, then those streaks moved on, wrapping around their limbs like elastic whips. They yanked at them and pulled them down to the ground, dragging them like beasts caught unaware by their masters.


    Valens could see the reason for it. The fewer beasts the Necromancer had to keep being fed, the more he could use his rot against the two Magi. His army was a terrible force, but a liability around his own reserves at the same time. If he let all his animated minions die away and hoarded all the rot to himself¡­


    But there was something else¡­ Something was pressing down on the ambient mana.


    A soft voice in his mind. Whispers of an unknown origin. Valens paused. He seemed to hear a word from the dark of the Necromancer¡¯s web, coming from somewhere beyond he couldn¡¯t see. Telling him about the time he¡¯d spent carving a life from nothing. How he made a Resonant Healer out of that tiny little orphan. Being afraid, being conscious of his shortcomings, pitying and cursing the fate he¡¯d been chained with.


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    After all that he had pulled himself through. That was him, back in the institute. The nobody who suddenly became a genius. The nobody people didn¡¯t even look in the eye, only to start buttering up to him when he showed his worth, knowing not he¡¯d spent all his youth trying to make it.


    Didn¡¯t matter if he was in another world now. He had to live. Somehow he had to stay alive. Master Eldras had told him he could do it. Once again, he had to do what that pitiful orphan did. He had to make himself known.


    His chest rose as he heaved a wheezing breath. Sinews bulged around his neck, stretched tight when he forced the Lifesurges to seep through yet another Oarfang¡¯s knot. Demolished the sourceline and continued on. One more, and one more again. Onward.


    He lost track of the time, falling into a trance where nothing really mattered anymore. Notifications blinked in the corner of his mind. People screamed. People died. Magic strangled every part of the air with its insidious force.


    Then he started hearing it. Whispers of a strange mind, of souls screaming, of regrets pooling and growing wider over the din. Men and women, both. Broken in their death, kept away from their rest. It was all there in the Necromancer¡¯s mind, and he was laughing. A mad laughter that yearned to see the world¡¯s ending.


    Anger caught Valens tight in its arms. Fed into his Lifesurges as they slashed at this terrible mind. They bounced back from the invisible barrier around it. It was being protected by a spell, one that seemed pointlessly simple in Valens¡¯s sound vision. He smashed through it with ease and found himself facing the Necromancer¡¯s brain.


    Then he froze, looking at the brain tissue. It was alive. Not too different from a healthy, breathing man perhaps thirty years of age. It sat underneath the scalp, all too normal even as it orchestrated the cruel slaughter for some time.


    A living person¡¯s mind.


    Valens¡¯ hands started shaking. All his youth he worked to become a better man, to serve and use his skills for the common good. Morality wasn¡¯t something that he could judge. His job was to fix people, no matter how hideous their crimes were. It had always been him and the operation room, assistants by his side, the body laid over the stretcher just another hour of work.


    But now he felt different. It was with these surges that he brought hundreds of people back to life, and he was beginning to realize that just as easily he could use them to cut up a brain. Carve pieces of it, then the body would go limp. Poke it around and there was nothing anyone could do against it.


    Warmagic. The boundaries blurred in his mind.


    ¡°Ah!¡± came an angry scream, shocked at the intrusion to its frenzy. ¡°You¡ª How?!¡±


    Valens jerked back at the sound, regaining his focus as the Necromancer caught his presence. The mind barrier he¡¯d just broken tried to pick itself back up and establish yet another hold around the brain, but Valens was already inside. Seeped deep into the dark magus¡¯s mind.


    ¡°I can kill you,¡± he said, his voice feeling strange in his ears. Who was this man talking so lightly about a notion as terrifying as death? He hadn¡¯t the authority to reap another man¡¯s soul. That belonged to¡­ Whom did it belong to, exactly?


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t dare!¡± the Necromancer said, restless.


    ¡°It¡¯s the truth,¡± Valens said with a voice biting cold. ¡°There is nothing wrong with your brain. You want this. You are willing to do this. What purpose does it serve, killing all these people?¡±


    ¡°What purpose, you ask?¡± the Necromancer said. ¡°It is to cleanse the filth! Reclaim the world that¡¯s promised. Bring justice to the Damned! This world is a lie, young man. Your kind should know, but they were gone, weren¡¯t they? Banished like us. You can¡¯t control a man¡¯s ambition. You can¡¯t save people who seek not the true peace!¡±


    Valens pursed his lips. ¡°You seem to be mistaken. I have nothing to do with these people.¡±


    ¡°Then why must you do their work?¡± the Necromancer pleaded. ¡°Join me. I can only promise you the truth. The undead, the Damned, the Broken Lands¡­ This is all governed by a sick mind. You have to believe me! I¡¯m doing this because they have sunk too deep to see it for themselves. I must bring¡ª¡°


    ¡°You¡¯ve done a lot of killing,¡± Valens said. Somewhere deep in his mind the cold apathy made itself known. Told him this was just a simple numbers game. Kill the Necromancer and you¡¯d stop the senseless killing. Let the man live, then people would keep dying. ¡°It¡¯s time for you to stop.¡±


    Lifesurge threads lashed at the brain tissue like a pair of polished scalpels, their sharp tips cutting smooth lines across the mind. They plunged deep and made a mess of the wrinkles of the matter, drowned them down in blood as Valens heard the Necromancer gurgle out a wheezing breath.


    Everything fell still around him when he finished his work with a last surge. Straight down through the Necromancer¡¯s spine. Better to make sure he¡¯s dead than to give him another chance. You wouldn¡¯t know what a good number of stats could do, anyway. Nothing was natural in this world.


    Bones came crashing down in his sound vision. Hundreds of skeletons and skeleton soldiers, Oarfangs and Olifants, Wards and other twisted creatures buckling as if someone cut through their lifeline. They fell in heaps and the alliance army scuttled back, watching with wide eyes the horde of the Necromancer crumble into pieces.


    Valens clutched at his chest as his world started spinning madly. He was losing the ground, feet slipping, fingers shaking, mind too fuzzy and disoriented as the notifications rained in. A great number of them screaming in his mind. Blending in with the sound of his own blood spilling forth from the holes around his body.


    He patched them with minute focus, chest aching as his mana pool drained further away, but pain had become something of a remedy, and there, a moment after, Valens found his breathing again, the will to pry his eyes open and glance upon the aftermath of the battle.


    Hundreds of faces filled into his vision. Men and undead both. All looking at the Necromancer¡¯s listless body with blood oozing down his nostrils and bony staff rolling across the floor, seeming to be baffled by the fact that other than that little blood, there was nothing in the man¡¯s face to suggest he¡¯d been killed in a heated fight.


    But the operation was done in pure discretion. Done by a man who ought to have been a healer, against all the oaths, carried by his will once he decided to kill for good. That had been the just way of doing things. That had been the right thing to do.


    Right?


    The boundaries¡­ he couldn¡¯t feel them anymore.


    ......

 Chapter 34: Queststone

    ¡®Ding¡¯ You have managed to defeat [Necromancer - lvl 205]! For killing an enemy 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!


    You have leveled up! 5 Stat Points granted!


    Sounds in his ears. Men coming up near and checking the aftermath. People whispering shakily about the terrible war that had unexpectedly ended by someone else. Undead squirming around their Lich. Valens watching them with blurry vision through all of it while managing his wounds with a number of Lifesurges.


    It gave him something to focus on, to relieve his mind of the pressure of the sight before him. He stitched each hole with perfect precision, stretching the new skin tight over them. When he was done with the effort, only the stains remained, but still, the pain was there somewhere.


    What¡¯s a man to do when he wins a war? Celebrate? Cry? Now it made sense why the soldiers were intent on getting drunk after a night of brutal battle. Drink away the worries. Choke them down with cheap liquor and turn the mind to a pelt that wouldn¡¯t ask questions. But there was nothing of such here in this cave. Nothing but faces with questions in them.


    Valens waved them off and dragged himself, wincing, by the Necromancer¡¯s corpse, dragged his legs there and buckled down in a heap of aching bones and scarred flesh, laid over the ground with his eyes facing the ceiling and reflecting the diminishing light of the Undead Lich¡¯s fog.


    All too quiet, now he felt about himself. Strange that just now people were dying with cries choked tight in their throats. Terrible killing and a waste of precious lives, for no purpose in light and done because of a difference in mind. The Necromancer¡¯s thinking. His sense of purpose. Wicked, true, but perhaps there had been some truth to it.


    It made scarcely a difference in the way Valens¡¯s body screamed. Too spent in mind and body both, scenes flashing before his eyes, a deep feeling settling around his chest and telling him that nothing would make much sense anymore.


    But then, Valens rather thought, sense had been short in supply lately. He¡¯d broken too many bones to now think about the times before. Better to carry on, as Nomad put it. Better to reap the rewards and reckon about it later.


    He glanced down as people started stirring. His hands trembled as he caught, out of the corner of his eye, a pair of men carrying a wounded woman, cleaved across the face with what looked like a sharp spear. Blood dripped down the tip of her nose, one eye looking up, the other painfully blank and rolling white. The fingers of her right hand twitched ever so slightly as if something in her was still trying to cling to life.


    Over there, deep within the Undead ranks, dead men were busy picking up the pieces of broken Heartstones. Even in their quiet subservience, they uttered a word or two to their fallen brothers and sisters, placing a ginger hand over their bodies before carrying them up.


    People carried on with their duties with a heavy silence. The same silence would hang thick whenever Valens gazed across the bloodied lands after the skirmishes, hands stinging dully after a number of operations, the cries of the men still fresh in his mind.


    Then, Valens started coughing. A deep, bloody kind of cough that made the people turn their eyes toward him. He choked on his own spit, ribcage rattling, fingers scraping against the muddy ground, and he pulled himself up, bent over his legs, and retched out there on his own blood until nothing remained in his guts.


    Steps sounded close. Then came a wave of nauseating stench that felt oddly familiar. Valens cracked his eyes open and saw blood-smeared curls of blonde hair dance in his vision, framing a face that looked equally dangerous. She got herself a bloody hole around the side of her chest, but she was breathing. Still alive, the Berserker was.


    ¡°Told you to stay back,¡± Celme said, checking him with a rough hand, patting his body around, and making him wince, flinch, and smile. Right. He hadn¡¯t been alone through it all. There were some people in his back.


    ¡°I¡¯m a terrible healer,¡± Valens said, shaking his head. There wasn¡¯t much from his robe left to cover his body, but the blood of his wounds had dried conveniently to patch his bare skin, and it also invited the wind to whisper some soothing cold across. He was grateful for it. Made the sting a whole lot more bearable.


    ¡°What did you do?¡± Celme asked when she finished checking him. She sat by his side and stared at the ceiling. Her face was sickly pale, lips cracked out and peeling off the edges, but the glint in her eyes seemed fresh. That was new.


    ¡°I¡ª¡° Valens paused. What had he done, exactly? He had fixed a mind broken beyond repair. That was what he did when he felt there were no more options left in his hands. He laid that wicked mind of the Necromancer¡¯s to rest, and that was more justice than the man deserved, he was thinking. ¡°I¡¯ve done something dark if that¡¯s what you¡¯re asking. I¡¯ve broken all the oaths and gone around everything I should¡¯ve held dear. Did what I¡¯ve been told over and over again that I shouldn¡¯t. Crossed the lines. Too many of them to count. And worse¡­¡±


    ¡°Worse?¡± Celme looked him in the eye.


    ¡°Worse, I don''t know how I should feel about it,¡± Valens confessed, feeling his chest grow light as the words poured out of his lips.


    ¡°Been there,¡± Celme said, lowering her chin. ¡°But I don¡¯t think you should feel guilty because you¡¯ve killed a Necromancer. You did it, right? I¡¯m not sure how, but¡ª¡°


    ¡°That was no man, child,¡± came a voice, thumping in Valens¡¯s chest as light illuminated the stretch they had been sitting across. When he craned his neck, he saw the Lightmaster standing there, his light growing dimmer by the second. His face, disturbingly normal for a man of his weight, seemed to be conflicted. By reflex alone, Valens tried to feel him with the Resonance and saw a mix of emotions in there. Relief. Rage. Guilt. All of them.


    That¡¯s what I should¡¯ve felt.


    But Apathy held him close and refused to have him face the aftermath of his terrible doing, acting as though a shield against the pouring emotions. He should¡¯ve been grateful for it, but he couldn¡¯t stop himself from thinking about the oaths he''d broken and how false of a healer he¡¯d become through all of it.


    Such hypocrisy.


    ¡°Treading the path of the Damned is an alluring promise that desperate men often choose to pursue,¡± the Lightmaster said, stepping near them and nudging the Necromancer¡¯s corpse with the tip of his right foot. ¡°It brings power unearned, fills the mind with pleasure that no normal man can hope to ever feel. It mostly seeks the unfortunate, but often, the case is that it finds a true host that will serve it well. Thus, the men start seeking the power, knowing not at each step it will seep deep into their cores and turn them slowly into a creature that is no longer a man nor beast¡ªsomething stuck between, something that shouldn¡¯t have ever existed, but forged nonetheless by the promises of the Shadow.¡±


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    Valens frowned at him as Apathy let a trail of frustration pass through its steely net. ¡°Then someone has better do something about this Shadow.¡±


    The Lightmaster raised a hand, palm glowing with golden light, then pointed a finger down at the ground where the shadows of his fingers were cast on the muddy patch. ¡°We all have one such Shadow resting in our hearts, child. The notion that Shadow is inherently bad and wicked is false, for it is simply a reflection of the stretches of our inner being. It is the part that you blame for every wrong, for every missed step, and the choices that have brought pain. It is the unloved and detested part of our beings, cast down in the depths of our souls to be forgotten. But you can¡¯t escape the past or ignore your mistakes. You must face them, however painful it would be.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s what you do, Lightmaster?¡± Valens said, voice cold as Celme shifted uncomfortably by his side. ¡°You help the men fallen deep beyond saving? And that¡¯s what I¡¯ve done, as well? Brought relief to a man who has drowned in his own shadow?¡±


    ¡°He was indeed beyond¡ª¡°


    ¡°Utter nonsense and a whole lot of crap as usual, Lightmaster,¡± came another voice that had a raspy quality about it. Lord Zahul¡¯s fog washed down near them and sizzled when the Lightmaster waved his golden hand to fend it off.


    They clashed in silence for a moment before settling on a truce that seemed to be hanging on a thin thread. The Undead Lich scoffed and nodded at Valens.


    ¡°Kid, listen to me. It is not that deep. I have one thing I¡¯d like my chiefs to tell their men, and one thing only ¡ª If there¡¯s anyone out for your life, then you ought to respect that and give equal measure to that intent. Kill or get killed. What do you reckon about that, Hook?¡±


    Hook dragged his armored feet beside the Undead Lich, stood there like a towering beast clad in bloody plates, and gave a strong nod. ¡°Simple is the code we teach down in the Depths, Lord. It has never left us disappointed.¡±


    ¡°Hear! Hear!¡± Lord Zahul patted him on the chest piece with his cane, then turned slowly to face the Lightmaster. ¡°You can speak the tales somewhere else. Tell them with a twist or two, if you want. But don¡¯t you ever try to sneak your way into a young Healer¡¯s head by spitting a story about you being this magnanimous, understanding man that has no agenda in this cave other than that you¡¯re simply here to help a broken soul find some solace in the otherworld.¡±


    ¡°Your words reflect your crooked way of thinking, Lich,¡± Lightmaster said, with a hint of fury in his face. ¡°I was just answering a question. This young man has done something beyond understanding, don¡¯t you think? A Level 88 Healer besting a Necromancer by some trick that my eyes fail to see. It¡¯d be a terrible waste if this mind goes astray someday.¡±


    ¡°That was indeed a good trick,¡± Lord Zahul said, eyes turning toward Valens. He paused as he weighed him up and down. ¡°This sort of feat never goes unnoticed, kid, which is why you must be prepared.¡±


    ¡°For what?¡± Valens asked.


    Lord Zahul jerked a finger to the Lightmaster. ¡°For men like him! Look at him, acting as if he¡¯s not here hunting for the Queststone, as if he¡¯s not out here for a scheme he¡¯s been concocting with that older brother of his. Some King, eh, Lightmaster? Crows have more influence over the people than he in your pitiful kingdom. But that¡¯s a big bad shadow you¡¯ve got there, eh? Pray tell, how do you plan on keeping this away from the Divine Orders¡¯ eyes?¡±


    ¡°You mind your words, or I won¡¯t hear your¡ª¡±


    ¡°The Legion never sleeps.¡± Hook thumped his spiked mace on the ground when the Lightmaster took a step toward the Undead Lich, and the whole Undead horde stirred with him as green fog rolled forth. ¡°The Legion never tires. The Legion never demands anything other than respect. You will respect the Lord, Lightmaster.¡±


    ¡°I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Master, forget it,¡± Celme said, rising to her feet and placing a hand over Lightmaster¡¯s trembling arm. ¡°We are all tired and spent. If not for Valens, things could have been way worse. Let us all appreciate the help and focus on patching the wounds. You have your own men need tending, no, Undead?¡±


    Hook gave her a hard look, then nodded slightly as he stepped back. Valens then caught Nomad¡¯s sight around the din, looking at his sword with green light falling off his shoulders. His brothers were picking the dead beside him, but he seemed lost, as if unaware of what was happening around him.


    Is something wrong with the gemstone? I thought it would last at least for a week or two.


    Valens shook his head. He couldn¡¯t go there and check on him when he had Lightmaster and the Undead Lich breathing this close to his neck. He first had to deal with¡­ whatever this was.


    ¡°Young man, you have proved yourself a valuable ally in this battle,¡± the Lightmaster said all of a sudden, looking gravely at him even though his words suggested otherwise. ¡°Yet I¡¯m not sure what an Arcane Healer is or how you slipped inside this Rift. I can¡¯t let a stranger¡ª¡±


    ¡°A stranger? Surely not!¡± Lord Zahul rasped with a chuckle. ¡°Your kingdom may have a crooked way of dealing with Healers, but I can¡¯t have you kill him now and here.¡± He tapped his cane on the ground, and a bony mark grew out of the mud. He picked it slowly, with gentle care, before presenting it to Valens with one hand stretched out. ¡°Still, take this, kid. This here is the Ninth Legion¡¯s mark. Keep this on you, so when you die, I can take you in as an apprentice. That Inferno would be useful against the Lost.¡±


    ¡°When I die?¡± Valens muttered, then remembered how things worked with the Undead. ¡°Thanks¡­ Lord Zahul.¡±


    ¡°Modest and kind,¡± Lord Zahul said, and suddenly, he was standing by him, with his rotten breath hissing against the side of Valens¡¯s face. ¡°But that¡¯s not you entirely, isn¡¯t it, young man? I¡¯ve seen you during the chaos, the look on your face, how your lips curled whenever you lashed at the Necromancer¡¯s horde with your flames. You hold onto that desire. Hold onto that tight, if you will. What you did there was no simple trick. I see in your fate the unmistakable rise to power, an ambition so fierce that it might burn everything around you. Hold onto that power tight, young Surgemaster. I will be waiting.¡±


    Then he was back, a ghost slipping through solid ground, settling on his normal, wizened form with Hook standing round his back, the other people looking as if nothing strange had happened.


    But Valens could still feel that breath on his neck. His skin crawled as the Lich looked amicably at him.


    ¡°So?¡± Lord Zahul muttered a moment after, tapping his cane on the ground as he gave the Lightmaster a side-eyed glance. ¡°When will you take the Queststone out? I¡¯m dying to see how many levels your flock will get after a quest of this magnitude.¡±


    Hook chuckled at the words. Valens, on the other hand, couldn¡¯t help but give a sigh. He couldn¡¯t wrap his head around what was really happening here. The strange relationship between the two sides left him baffled, to say the least.


    ¡°Your jealousy is refreshing,¡± Lightmaster said and waved a hand over his robe. Golden light sparkled as a perfectly round object materialized out of thin air, sending a wave of different frequencies that dinned in the Resonance. Valens caught the Void¡¯s now-familiar tunes there. That thing was more than a simple stone.


    ¡°This quest will mark the beginning of our mission,¡± he continued, holding the stone high as the men of the Duality Guild began gathering around him. Faces looked up in expectation, men and women brightening at the sight of the Queststone. Valens himself was curious as to what this stone would really accomplish.


    What is it for? The quest has been completed from what I can tell, but I don¡¯t exactly know why they are so excited to see it?


    ¡°People will witness the true deity of Lord Zodros with the rise of our Temple. People will slowly see the truth and start believing the cause. The End might be near, but so long as the masses are united under a single belief, so long as the Will of Zodros blooms in the hearts of men, we can resist the currents of fate.¡±


    Undead worked around the back in muted silence while the men and women held their breaths. It was silent all at once, with Lord Zahul and Hook watching it happen with almost bored faces. Valens didn¡¯t give them much thought, but was still curious as he stared at the occasion.


    The Lightmaster tapped a finger over the Queststone as its light reached a blinding golden before disintegrating into thousands of specks that fluttered about the men waiting around him. Hundreds of them found their way close to Valens¡¯s chest, peculiar things resonating like little bells in the Resonance.


    Then they wormed inside his flesh.


    ¡®Ding!¡¯


    [Gate of the Necromancer - Queststone


    Difficulty: C


    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 completed!]


    [You have slain the Necromancer and cleansed the Rift. You will be rewarded according to your contribution.]


    Valens felt something shift around his chest cavity. A look around him showed him that everybody, even the Undead, was in a state of silence as if waiting for something to happen.


    Then it started.


    A flood of notifications covered his vision.

 Chapter 35: Outside

    For completing your first Rift, you are granted the title [Riftwalker].


    [Riftwalker - Title]: You can now use any active Gates in the Broken Lands and Haven¡¯s Reach to travel. No extra source will be consumed.


    For defeating a Riftmaster more than twice your current level, you are granted the title [Foe of the Damned].


    [Foe of the Damned - Title]: You have proven your potential to be a strong enemy of the Damned. When you are in the Broken Lands, your scent will draw the attention of lesser Damned, marking you as their natural adversary. However, this also will stir attention in greater Damned, making them more cautious in engaging you. Additionally, you gain increased resistance to shadow-based attacks and a small boost to damage against creatures of the Damned.


    Ding! [Inferno(Adept) has reached level 8!]


    Ding! [Fireball (Adept) has reached level 8!]


    Ding! [Gravitating Earth (Master) Has reached level 3!]


    Ding! [Lifesurge(Master) has reached Level 10!]


    Ding! [Lifeward(Master) has reached Level 10!]


    Ding! [Apathy(Master) has reached Level 10!]


    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!


    ¡­


    You have leveled up! 5 Stat Points granted!


    You have reached Level 100!


    For reaching Level 100, you are granted your First Trial!


    [Trial of the Arcane Healer - I]: She watches from the depths of the crimson waves, her court silent and waiting. Nigh is the time she¡¯s meant to awaken, but one must silence the whispers before they become a scream.


    Valens breathed in deep against the flood of notifications. There were too many of them to count, and some of it made not entirely much sense to him. He knew from the status page that titles existed, but just now he came to realize what it really meant.


    And I¡¯ve reached Level 100.


    That was more than what he expected, if he was being honest. Not only did he got a bunch of levels from dealing with the Necromancer, this Queststone also gave him a lot. Then again, it was only right since Duality Guild had brought hundreds of people into this Rift just for this Queststone.


    Though that Foe of the Damned title didn¡¯t seem like happy news. For all he knew Broken Lands was this giant place where the Damned roamed and lived in clusters. That was why this title looked more like a punishment than a reward. Attracting creatures of unknown origins ¡­ He didn¡¯t know how he should feel about it.


    At least I got more stats, right?


    He shook his head as the ground underneath his feet trembled. Gravel started raining from the ceiling. Valens could swear those walls were closing in on him.


    ¡°This Rift is about to be closed,¡± the Lightmaster said, giving his men a hard look. ¡°Take the Riftshard and the Necromancer¡¯s corpse. Gather the wounded and deceased. We¡¯re going back home.¡±


    Celme and Marcus nodded at the order, and immediately got to work. They hauled the Necromancer¡¯s corpse from the ground, revealing a shining gem the size of Valens¡¯s fist under his body.


    [Riftshard - C]


    Valens scowled at it. The gemstone oddly resembled the ones he had in his thigh, but this one was bigger and brimmed with mana inside. Meanwhile, the Undead Lich and his horde didn¡¯t seem to care much for the shard. But the amount of mana inside of that jewel¡­ Valens shivered.


    ¡°A word now that we¡¯re done with the Queststone?¡± Lord Zahul said as he moved over to the Lightmaster, and peered across his own tide, eyes agleam with green fog. ¡°Been a terrible war, don¡¯t you think? And to your merit you¡¯ve brought an awfully inept bunch to this Rift, and for that, the Legion paid a grim price. I¡¯ve lost valuable men today, men I¡¯m hoping fill their void by relying on the dead of your Guild. And I¡¯m also compelled to tell you that the Ninth Legion will be waiting for your King¡¯s additional compensation for our painstaking efforts in this Rift.¡±


    ¡°You want more?¡± Lightmaster¡¯s eyes widened at him, fingers clenching tight. ¡°My brother has already promised you more coin and steel than you can dream of, and yet you seek to exploit him? There was something wrong with this Rift. We could barely use our spells. No one could¡¯ve predicted this. And we battled against a Necromancer. Your honor was at stake¡ª¡°


    ¡°Honor doesn¡¯t mean much in the Depths,¡± Lord Zahul cut him off with a tap of his cane. ¡°Honor doesn¡¯t give my men the arms they need against the creatures of the Depths. It was your King¡¯s gamble, or may I say foolishness, to believe a fledgling Guild such as yours has the might to challenge a Rift of this magnitude. Outside influence or not, we were to provide aid and support as the Undead Legion, not to press into a heated battle against the minions of that fool.¡±


    Lord Zahul waved a hand across the cave, toward where his men were busy piling up the listless skeletons of the undead. ¡°Yet we have found ourselves in the thick of it. So then, you can understand why I¡¯m expecting more from your King. Or, do you suppose we should bring the matter to my Lord¡¯s ear? Surely he would like to hear your reasoning.¡±


    ¡°There is no need. I understand,¡± the Lightmaster said with a frown. ¡°I will speak to the King, and make sure your men are compensated for the effort.¡±


    ¡°Excellent! Then there is only one thing left,¡± Lord Zahul said, and winked at Valens, which made his skin crawl. ¡°It¡¯s not often you see a Healer Mage courageous enough to walk a path untrodden. Or should we say reckless? Either way, we can presume that he¡¯s not long for this world. Might as well let him spend his days however he wants.¡±


    ¡°What do you ask for, Lich?¡± the Lightmaster said.


    ¡°Help him,¡± Lord Zahul said with a cold voice.


    The Lightmaster¡¯s eyes bore down on Valens like two burning spheres, golden light spilling from the edges of them. ¡°Arcane Healer,¡± he muttered, doubtful. ¡°A Healer who can guide the Inferno like a third limb. He¡¯s not of the traitor¡¯s cult, for I would¡¯ve caught his reek the moment I laid my eyes upon him. Another Order, perhaps? Tell me, young man, whom do you serve?¡±


    ¡°I serve no¡ª¡° Valens paused when the Lightmaster¡¯s face hardened. He knew that look well. Knew it too well that Apathy almost slipped from his mind. A look of fear, that one, of anger and hatred so deep that nothing could quench its intensity.


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    But Valens wouldn¡¯t have it anymore. Not in this world.


    ¡°I serve no one,¡± he said, voice hard through clenched teeth. ¡°Nor I¡¯m a part of a cult. I¡¯m my own man, Lightmaster. You do not need to fear me.¡±


    ¡°A godless healer?¡± Lightmaster uttered, slightly shaken. ¡°And a powerful Mage, as well? You have a special class. A dangerous one¡ª¡°


    ¡°I asked for your help, Lightmaster, not your superstitious ignorance against anything that doesn¡¯t quite fit with your small mind.¡± Lord Zahul tapped his cane on the ground, and dozens of eyes snapped at the sudden sound. Under the dark of the cave, spheres of gleaming fog were staring deep at the Lightmaster¡¯s face, weapons glinting sharp under their light. ¡°He¡¯s¡­ not what you think he is.¡±


    ¡°What are you¡ª¡°


    ¡°Enough!¡± The Undead Lich demanded, and swept his hand over the air. ¡°Take good care of him for me, and be aware that I will know if you try to do anything stupid. Now, back to your little paradise. Off with you and your kind!¡±


    A tremor across the cave. The walls groaned as they started peeling off like the scab of a wound. Giant rocks and countless stones, the ground slipping away, Valens staring wide-eyed at the sight.


    Then Valens caught a familiar figure in the din. Nomad with his sword resting over his shoulder, a conflicted look in his face. He turned as if he felt Valens¡¯s gaze, and flinched back. Slowly he lowered his chin, and masked his eyes, then vanished into the undead horde when Valens was about to go over to him.


    He didn¡¯t give him a chance to speak.


    Why?


    Valens couldn¡¯t understand as light spilled through the cracks over the stone walls. It was dark a second before, then burning light coated over the cave and swallowed everything in his vision.


    ¡°Forgive me, Val. I have no other choice,¡± came a voice, resounding deep in his mind as wind drifted over to him and stuck to his skin.


    He cast his gaze about him, but couldn¡¯t see anything. Then he was lifted off the ground, light as a feather, breath catching in his throat before he was shoved into one of those streaking lights, Nomad¡¯s voice still in his ears, mind drifting away¡­ away until he was no more.


    ¡­..


    Weightless through the stretch of dark, gliding wilfully like a leaf too lost in an invisible storm. Void was everywhere around him. Valens felt its unmistakable touch around the core of his being, like ghostly worms nibbling at his innards, stealing his breath and dragging him down toward somewhere he couldn¡¯t see.


    His ears popped and a faint ringing sound began building deep inside his mind. Thrumming still as a bright dot of light appeared in his vision. An explosion of frequencies rushed from inside of it, filling into the Void¡¯s muted Resonance as though birthing of a new life. Slowly, everything gained a luster of shimmering hue, illuminating the darkness with different colors that belonged to a different world.


    His bare toes tapped over the solid ground as Valens pulled his mind with Apathy, and blinked through the blurry vision. His chest rose with an invigorating breath as he registered the sight that welcomed him.


    Dark clouds over the restless trees, stretching ever so sharply toward the sky, leafless and bald, like rusted nails stabbed at the naked earth. Under this grim sky rested a dozen tents with men and women squirming around them, all holding their arms against the sudden wind that appeared with the men of Duality Guild. Bedraggled, and beaten-down husks of men, half of them wounded and a quarter of them being hauled over the shoulders, dead beyond remedy.


    ¡°Tend the wounded,¡± came the Lightmaster¡¯s booming voice, his figure straight like a rod as he swept his gaze across his rather sorry looking army before waving a hand toward the tents. At his command, dozens of people clad in brown robes rushed forth, aiding the warriors to carry the wounded. ¡°Where¡¯s Marcus? Tell him to¡ª¡°


    ¡°Master, I¡¯m here,¡± Marcus said, wincing his way through a number of groaning men, plated legs all patched up and trembling, one hand fixed over them to keep the armor from crumbling down. A cursory glance showed Valens that the muscles were pulling up tight in those legs, and Marcus pushing himself hard through the pain wasn¡¯t making them any better.


    He looks sick as well¡­ He needs a rest.


    ¡°How many?¡± the Lightmaster said gravely, only to pause as his eyes narrowed at the figure of a lithe woman that stood by the tents, to which he pulled a hand up and beckoned her rather furiously. ¡°Why is my daughter here? She should¡¯ve been waiting for us in the Fort.¡±


    ¡°I¡ª¡° Marcus swallowed as that young woman came bounding across the distance, tails of her leather coat flapping against her legs. She slowed down, and stopped a step away from the Guild Master, looked him up and down, then threw herself into his arms.


    Her silent sobs resounded in the silent patch as she cried her tears out.


    ¡°He has a daughter, then,¡± Valens muttered as he felt Celme¡¯s presence near him. The woman was staring at the two as one might stare at a distant memory, eyes clouded and mouth curled into an unreadable smile.


    ¡°Two of them,¡± she said a moment, and a long sigh after. ¡°But the young one¡¯s harder to chain. She¡¯s a handful.¡±


    ¡°I can tell. I happen to know someone like her.¡± Valens tapped a gentle palm round Celme¡¯s shoulder, which earned him a beautiful smile. A rare relief in this dark world. ¡°Wish we¡¯ve had the time to say a few words to Nomad. We crossed eyes, but I suppose he didn¡¯t want to risk it. Most of the undead were still under the influence of their Lord¡¯s fog. Do you know what¡¯ll happen to them?¡±


    Celme gave him a quick look. ¡°They¡¯ll go back to the Underworld where they¡¯ll continue with the Eternal War. You don¡¯t have to worry about him anymore. You¡¯ve done whatever you could.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t feel like it,¡± Valens said as a trickle of frustration passed through the steely net of Apathy.


    His eyes swivelled toward the wounded men as they were being carried to the tents by their fellow guildsmen, golden armors smeared with dark streaks of blood. At the side a group of warriors were busy picking up the fallen weapons and armors. Tears were either shaded under heavy hands, or got blended into muddy stains and dried blood of the wounds.


    The air reeked of a lingering stench of rot, and it was full of nothing but songs dying out slow, painful deaths over the Resonance.


    ¡°Where are the Priests?¡± Valens said, scowling out into those tents. When he squinted his eyes he could barely make out the rows of carriages waiting on a path that sloped downward beyond the tents, but there was nothing suggesting a disciplined effort being carried out for the men in need of immediate attention.


    Celme glanced away into the dark sky, and said silently, ¡°There must be some in those tents, but not nearly enough to care for over hundred men.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean there aren¡¯t enough?¡± Valens couldn¡¯t believe his ears. ¡°The Lightmaster just said to tend to the wounded, did he not? So how were you planning on keeping these men alive if there aren''t enough people that¡¯s up for the job?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll get the rest to the closest town,¡± came an answer from behind. Marcus dragged himself lurching by their side, holding in his hand a dark, wooden box from which spilled waves of Void mana. He nudged with the tip of his chin toward the sloping path, face twisted with a grimace. ¡°There¡¯s Elmbury an hour¡¯s ride from here. A little town, but they have a Sun¡¯s Church there with a number of Priests.¡±


    ¡°An hour¡¯s ride from here?¡± Valens glared at the man. ¡°Are you mad? Some of those men can¡¯t effort to waste ten minutes on a stretcher, let alone a bumpy ride down some mountainous road and in those horse-drawn carriages! You want them dead, eh, little Warrior? Seems you¡¯ve forgotten the time when I¡¯ve fixed your legs straight in that din. Should¡¯ve stabbed them right up into your brain, I should, perhaps that would¡¯ve opened some clogs in that empty skull of yours!¡±


    ¡°You¡ª¡° Marcus stammered, but Valens shouldered past him without giving him a look, through the groaning men and right toward the Lightmaster who was way too caught up with her daughter¡¯s presence to pay heed to his own men dying by the second.


    ¡°Enough with the tears and your emotional reunion. Have your men gather the wounded into one of those tents,¡± he demanded with a jab of his hand, to which the daughter yipped like a scared squirrel with a foot over its tail. The Lightmaster himself scowled, and that was Valens¡¯ cue to continue. ¡°I¡¯ll first do a check on those Priests. Meanwhile, you bring me whatever useful stuff you have here, and a pair of men who are clear minded, and not too spent to carry dead bodies should there be a need for it.¡±


    ¡°Arcane Healer?¡± the daughter muttered shakily. ¡°Who are you¡ª¡°


    ¡°Let¡¯s not have this talk now, shall we, Miss?¡± Valens said. ¡°We can always get to know each other when I¡¯m done with your pitiful bunch.¡± He turned to the Lightmaster then, with a fierce glare at his hesitation. ¡°Tell me, old man. You wish to wait for some heavenly play to bless your wounded, and get yourself another group to be buried, or have some godless healer fix them so that they can at least see whatever there¡¯s left from their families once again?¡±


    ¡°The Sun¡¯s Church won¡¯t like a Healer meddling with their effort¡­¡± the Lightmaster swallowed as he took in the sight of his wailing men, of the dead bodies piled up under the naked trees, of the women and men staring senseless at their own hands. The grave scene seemed to make the decision for him. ¡°Tell me, then, how much do you want?¡±


    ¡°Wha¡ª Money?¡± Valens gawked at him. ¡°I don¡¯t need any payment to do what¡¯s right. Just let me do my own thing, and don¡¯t ask any questions. You can do that, can¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°No payment,¡± the Lightmaster echoed, as if he was trying to work his brain into believing these words. Then, with a snap of his head, he beckoned at his men like a true Master. ¡°Gather the wounded. Marcus and Celme, do whatever he asks. And make sure nobody hears a word of it.¡±


    Valens was slightly offended by that last part, but for the sake of the occasion, he decided not to think too much on it. Before he got to work, though, there was one thing he wished to ask.


    ¡°Celme, er¡­ Do you have anything I can wear?¡± he asked as he tried to keep his voice straight. The woman chuckled when she looked him up and down. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind a simple robe. Anything, really¡ª¡°


    ¡°That¡¯s fine.¡± Celme patted him on the back. ¡°Come on, let us get you a new set of clothes before you start ordering about the Priests.¡±


    ¡°Why would I do that?¡± Valens paused. ¡°And why do you think I would do such a thing? A Magus should keep an open mind. That¡¯s one of the Codes.¡±


    ¡°Not sure.¡± Celme shrugged. ¡°But something tells me that you¡¯re not going to like what you¡¯ll see in those tents. The Priests are, well¡­ Not as sure-handed as you in the matter of healing.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Valens was intrigued. ¡°I can¡¯t wait to see them at work, then. Show me the way.¡±


    ¡­.

 Chapter 36: Act of Healing

    What are you doing?, Valens asked himself perhaps the tenth time as he watched the pair of Priests holding their hands over a man who was bleeding from a gaping hole around his stomach. They seemed to be in utter focus as golden light spilled from their fingers, washing the wound with what appeared to be condensed lifemana.


    There was an odd semblance between the two young women. Long, brown hair stuffed under a thin cloth that covered most of their heads, barely leaving a strand or two in the open. They wore loose, white robes that had but a single patch around its back. Another symbol, just like the double-headed serpent of the Duality Guild, but this one instead depicted a single eye, completely black, stabbed through the middle by a golden sword that spattered crimson blood across the half-closed eyelid.


    ¡°Is that supposed to be a religious symbol?¡± was Valens¡¯s first question as he and Celme silently watched the Priests'' work while waiting for Marcus to get the other, more immediate cases in a row for Valens to handle. ¡°Rather ominous, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°They are from the Church of the Golden Sun,¡± Celme stared down at the wounded man who was lying senseless over the stretcher. ¡°That sword there is their signature.¡±


    ¡°What about the eye?¡±


    ¡°It belongs to the Eyeless,¡± Celme shrugged. ¡°Supposed to be a Herald of the Shadow back in the Second Age. They say it used to rule a good part of the Broken Lands, but not much is known about the earlier ages as the Churches don¡¯t go around spreading their intricate secrets for all the world to hear.¡±


    ¡°Eyeless, eh?¡± Valens tipped his head, curious. ¡°Isn¡¯t the Broken Lands the common enemy? Why would you keep things from each other?¡±


    ¡°That¡­ is not how things work here,¡± Celme said tiredly. ¡°Where did you say that you¡¯re from again? Some faraway place, I remember, but I can¡¯t recall if you¡¯ve mentioned a name.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t,¡± Valens said with an innocent smile. ¡°As I can¡¯t remember where it was, but I¡¯m positive it was a far¡­ far away place. Quite the distance from here, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ¡°See?¡± Celme shook her head. ¡°That¡¯s why they keep the information sealed. Because everybody has secrets.¡±


    Yeah, that¡¯s fair, I guess.


    ¡°So then.¡± Valens decided to change the topic. ¡°From what you¡¯ve said I get that this religious order, the Church of the Golden Sun, is supposed to have quite the history, is that so?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Dozens of years. Perhaps hundreds, which means centuries¡¯ worth of experience?¡±


    ¡°True.¡±


    ¡°All the time in the world with the System, I daresay?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ correct.¡±


    ¡°So why then, rather than managing the arteries torn under that wound, are they trying to drown this man under a sea of lifemana?¡± Valens pointed a finger at the Priests.


    In the short time since they¡¯d arrived here, the white, almost pristine interior of the tent had transformed into a scene of brutal torture. Blood had pooled underneath the stretcher. Painted the warrior¡¯s golden armor into a sickly crimson through which jutted out parts of the man¡¯s guts like thick worms.


    If he¡¯d been awake to witness and live through this all, then Valens was sure the experience itself would change something fundamental in the man¡¯s brain. A pained memory was one thing, but being traumatized in the name of healing was a sin to the craft.


    A terrible sin that he couldn¡¯t just ignore.


    [Priest - Level 23]


    [Priest - Level 25]


    When he checked the pair once again, the System showed the same thing to his eyes. These were indeed Priests, the so-called healers of the Melton Kingdom, the supposed masters of the field. But to Valens¡¯s eyes, they seemed more like a pair of first-years that didn¡¯t quite know what to do with their hands.


    Playing with your patient. Not caring if he¡¯s in pain or not. What sort of twisted mockery of the art you¡¯re performing here?!


    ¡°I told you that you¡¯re not going to like it,¡± Celme said with a scowl. ¡°The divine skills are given only to the pure souls. The Sinless, we call them, and as you can see their levels are not that high. It¡¯s forbidden for them to join the Rifts, and even in the Broken Lands they¡¯re only allowed to stay in the safe cities.¡±


    ¡°Awful!¡± Valens nearly cried as he clutched the tails of his new robe, dragged himself over to the stretcher, and gazed down at the pair in the manner of a Lecturer ready to reprimand a class of ignorant students. He then jabbed with a thick finger into the man¡¯s gut when the two young women looked strangely at him. ¡°See that? That¡¯s blood, friends! Blood of your patient, pooling over the guts! Spilling through the bones! I admit your lifemana is stitching those veins back, but why must you torture the poor man like this?! Haven¡¯t they taught you how to manage a simple hold? Surely you must¡¯ve learned a basic tourniquet!¡±


    ¡°Valens, stop!¡± Celme yanked at his arm, but Valens wasn¡¯t having it.


    ¡°And this!¡± he yelled as the squirming muscles of the man slowly pushed the tip of a rusted spear out of the wound. ¡°Rust can be as dangerous as the wound itself. It¡¯s not something you can cleanse with lifemana. Not unless you give the patient constant care in the following weeks. Where is your sanitizer? Where is the crystal water? Or is that what you want? To keep him bedridden¡ª¡±


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    ¡°I told you to stop!¡±


    A fierce force grabbed him tight by the arm and pulled him away as easily as though he weighed nothing. Valens found himself facing Celme after a second, eyes squinted with¡­ fear?


    ¡°Why¡ª¡± Valens was about to ask when the flaps of the tent parted with the tip of a golden sword. A man came barging inside, cast a terribly large shadow over Valens that made him feel tiny like a cat. ¡°Oh,¡± he muttered when it dawned on him. ¡°That¡¯s why.¡±


    ¡°Who dares to raise his voice in this tent?¡± the mountain of a man growled with a hard voice. Valens could barely see his face, as he was clad in golden plates from all around, glinting there inside the tent like a human-shaped sun. He had the same eye symbol carved over the right side of his chest piece, which made it easy to form the connection.


    [Templar - ???]


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± Celme said almost sheepishly, bowing her head and urging Valens with a hand to do the same. ¡°My friend got too excited for a second. My apologies.¡±


    The man eased his hold around the sword and glanced over to the Priests. ¡°Priestess, is this true?¡±


    ¡°I-It¡¯s nothing,¡± one of the Priests yipped. Her green eyes were as saucers as golden light continued spilling through her fingers, but it was the way she nearly jumped at the sight of the giant of a man that caught Valens¡¯s interest. She looked equally surprised to see him.


    A Templar? A Knight of the church, then?


    Valens couldn¡¯t see the man¡¯s level, which meant he was a high-level warrior who completed his First Trial. Besides, even Celme nearly trembled at the sight of him, which told a lot, as the Berserker had quite the hot head over her shoulders.


    This must be a bodyguard. That golden sword and armor surely fit their Order. I wonder if he wore golden unders as well?


    Valens shook his head as he called for Apathy. Felt the invisible web settle over his emotions in the Resonance. It was with a cold detachment that he gave the warrior a small bow. ¡°Pardon my manners.¡±


    ¡°Keep your quiet. There are men here in need of attention, and you¡¯re hindering the work of God,¡± the man said as he swept him with yet another biting glance, before turning and exiting out of the tent.


    The moment he was gone, Celme¡¯s shoulders sagged with relief. The pair of Priests resumed their work after taking long sighs of relief. Valens, instead, was thankful for Apathy as it stopped the streaks of fury trying to spill into his mind.


    ¡°That was a lot of crap!¡± he said in the end. ¡°Are these people mad? Can¡¯t they see¡ª¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re going.¡± Celme took his arm. ¡°Or that stubborn tongue of yours is going to get us both chained in the dungeons.¡±


    ¡°Wha¡ª I didn¡¯t do anything!¡±


    ¡°I said we¡¯re going.¡±


    Then she dragged him out of the tent.


    ¡­¡­


    It took a bottle of real, sloshing water, a set of glares from Celme with her shapely brows and near-crimson eyes, a line of groaning men stretched in a row before an empty tent that needed immediate attention for Valens to squash his anger down and focus on the real job at hand.


    Which was to fix patients.


    The monotony of it was something he dearly missed, he found, when Celme and Marcus dragged a man who had a nasty scar running down the side of his chest. Instincts kicked in as quick as gears in a well-tended mana rail, and soon he was checking the wound with the tip of his finger, wincing at the primitivity of the situation without his usual tools at his command.


    ¡°Desperate times, eh, Marcus?¡± he smiled at the man who stood by the side, rubbing at his left leg with that same grimace on his face. He looked up at the mention of his name, and his scowl further deepened. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll check those hangers of yours in a minute. Once I¡¯m done with the lot here.¡±


    His finger squelched into the broken skin, already forming blisters across the wound that oozed with rotten pus. Some sort of present from the Necromancer¡¯s horde, surely, one that was wicked and slippery in nature.


    ¡°Already seeped into the blood flow,¡± he muttered when he managed a Lifeward over the man¡¯s body. Tiny globs of sickly yellow spheres were coursing freely through the veins, stabbing at the organs like little, stubborn needles. ¡°Infected, too, which you¡¯d expect from a wound like this. Some sort of rusted weapon, I¡¯d say, and a good amount of foul mana in the mix.¡±


    ¡°Can you treat it?¡± Celme asked as she kept the man nailed to the stretcher with both hands.


    ¡°Can a bird fly? Can a mole dig through mud?¡± Valens said almost furiously. ¡°This is nothing for a Resonant Healer. Can¡¯t say the same thing for those Priests of yours, though, I¡¯m afraid. At that rate it¡¯ll take weeks for them to go through a dozen people. Sloppy work, my Master would¡¯ve said, and mind you he¡¯s a rather gentle man with budding healers.¡±


    Valens sent a Lifesurge through the crack of the wound, down into the bloodstream to flush the rusted bits out of the blood flow. With his recently gained stats, lifemana basically roared forth from his mana pool, thicker than ever, hungry for anything that didn¡¯t quite fit with a healthy Resonance.


    ¡°Hold him still,¡± he said when the man jerked up at the sudden stab of pain. ¡°This¡¯ll be over quick, but quick has a different meaning depending on the occasion.¡±


    Once the blood flow cleared just enough for him to work around the wound, Valens managed a stitch over the arteries to stop the bleeding, and moved onto the rotten, necrotic skin tissue covering the wound like a host of fuzzy colored stubs of fleshy mushrooms. He tore them off as one might cut out the moldy parts of a cheese block, then flushed the area with a Lifesurge before nursing the skin to grow and close out the opening.


    His stitches were done in perfect precision, barely leaving out a tear in the otherwise smeared skin. The frequencies were still somewhat scattered over the Resonance, likely since he hadn¡¯t had the time to clean out all the rust bits from the blood flow, but it would suffice for now, and give the man enough time to heal with his own Vitality and Endurance stats.


    Pretty useful stats, when you think about it. The only reason why the poor guy hadn¡¯t died right after a wound like that.


    ¡°Get this one out and give him some water,¡± Valens said as the groaning man blinked all of a sudden, patting his now-fixed belly as though he was searching for that giant gash. ¡°It¡¯s not there anymore, buddy. Go on, then. Get a move on. Work those legs out a bit. I don¡¯t have the time to go over the procedure and into the details.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ healed?¡± the man croaked, pulling himself, wincing, up on his feet. He swayed for a moment before he righted himself with a hand over the tent, gave his head a good shake, and glanced back at Valens with questions in his eyes. ¡°You sure? That sort of wound¡ª¡±


    ¡°Next!¡± Valens waved at Celme and Marcus while ignoring the man. He turned to his back and got himself a cloth and a bottle from the excuses of tools they¡¯d provided him in the name of healing supplies, poured some water over the stretcher, and wiped the bloody stains mostly for his own sake.


    I¡¯m going to be sick to my stomach after all of this.


    He cracked his neck as he prepared for the next one, trying to act as professional as one can be in this primal world, treating this as another story he would tell when he got back to his own world and his Master.


    Trying to stay hopeful here, Master. Not everything can be this bad, right?


    The flaps of the tent parted, and Valens raised his head up to take a cursory glance at his new patient, only to frown when a familiar figure came in sight. Golden plates and a golden helm. A mountain of a body with just as big a sword hanging from his belt. That eye symbol painted over the side of his chest piece.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Valens muttered. ¡°It¡¯s him again.¡±


    ¡°A damned Healer in these lands!¡± the golden warrior barked at him while Celme and Marcus flinched nervously. ¡°This is blasphemy! You will answer the Bishop. All of you. I will personally see to it.¡±


    Valens pinched the bridge of his nose. He¡¯d been just out of that dark cave for a minute, and he was already beginning to miss it.

 Chapter 37: Captain

    ¡°Take your hands off of that man!¡± the golden warrior growled as he reached for the sheath dangling from the side of his belt, eyes under the helm bulging with raging fury as if what Valens carried out here was a dark conspiracy to turn the wounded into scores of wicked beings.


    It¡¯s getting a little hard to keep an open mind.


    Then again, he couldn¡¯t help but wonder at the sight of that golden carapace if Inferno could solve this man-shaped problem that appeared out of nowhere. Fix his legs with the Gravitating Earth first, and spill the glorious flames through the gaps in the armor, which, while protecting the man from sharp objects, also caged every bit of his body from all around in a way that would surely make it a bit of a hurdle to put off if, say, his skin were to be set ablaze.


    When did I start thinking about such things? Though I must admit, that was pretty open-minded of me there.


    Master Eldras wouldn¡¯t have approved this sudden change, but the old man himself could get a touch heated, especially against matters that were unjust in nature. So, Valens rather hoped, his Master would forgive his disciple for stepping over the oaths of the Resonant Healers for just this once.


    I¡¯ve already broken a bunch of them.


    The flaps of the tent parted once again as Valens and the pair from the Duality Guild waited in muted silence against the warrior. Odd that such a simple thing as some leathery canvas had gained an ominous quality in such short notice. And indeed, through the Resonance, Valens proved it was the case as a pair of golden warriors barged inside.


    ¡°Mas? What¡¯s happening here?¡± said the first of them, a man who seemed at least courteous enough to tuck his helm under his armpit and display his face. He had a cleanly shaved chin, as you would expect from a member of a church, with an equally clean head of brown hair marked off his shoulders. He looked around to be forty, with green eyes gentle and questioning rather than muddled with preconceived notions.


    Mas visibly straightened at the sight of him, taking his hand off the sheath and giving him a quick, disciplined salute with a fist over his heart. ¡°Captain Edric,¡± he said, voice unnaturally stiff, raising one accusing finger to Valens¡¯s face. ¡°We have a healer here. I caught him treating a man just then, one of Duality Guild¡¯s wounded. There¡¯s enough evidence to suggest he¡¯s been hired for the occasion, Sir.¡±


    ¡°An outside hand, you say?¡± Captain Edric¡¯s eyes narrowed, and he turned to Valens with a weighing glance, checking him tip to toe as if he could see through the bloodied robe and under his skin. He scowled. ¡°Arcane Healer? What¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Some sort of special class, likely,¡± said the other guy who stood behind him, playing with the straps of his chest piece with a gauntleted hand. Valens couldn¡¯t see his face but felt his indifference stark over the Resonance and a hint of annoyance, as if even the simple act of being dragged to this tent was a burden. ¡°I doubt any guild would be foolish enough to try and employ one of that traitor¡¯s disciples. So some guy, if I were to guess.¡±


    ¡°But Sir!¡± Mas pressed as he pulled his helm briskly off and glared out into the other guy¡¯s face before gesturing at the captain. ¡°The Priests told me that the Duality Guild has already filed an official request to Bishop Cornelius for the usual Rift services. They are carrying out the work as we speak, and yet these people have dared to invite a godless man to this¡ª¡±


    ¡°How do you know he¡¯s godless?¡± Captain Edric said, gazing at Valens. ¡°A special class he might be, but there are such cases even in the Sacred Father¡¯s Church. The last I¡¯ve heard, they have accepted Sister Isolde¡¯s application and decided to make her an Abbess.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that because after her Second Trial, she¡¯s gained the Radiant Mother Class, though?¡± the indifferent guy offered. ¡°That¡¯s one of the two Divine Class Paths of the Church, no?¡±


    ¡°A special class, nonetheless,¡± Captain Edric said.


    ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°What do you have to say for yourself, Healer?¡± Captain Edric turned to Valens, waving a finger to his robe. ¡°You¡¯re not carrying any signs to suggest your devotion, so Brother Mas here could be right. But a godless Healer in Melton? Employed by the Duality Guild to tend to their wounded? Not much sense in there, I¡¯d say.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not taking any coin from anyone here,¡± Valens said, pulling his chin high. There was a lot he didn¡¯t know about the social structure of the Melton Kingdom, but since they hadn¡¯t decided to hang him there on the spot, he likely had some leeway to work with. That was promising. ¡°And though I¡¯m aware there are a bunch of Priests doing God¡¯s work here, there has also been an awfully lot of wounded to tend for, more than what they could handle, especially with their slouchy and utterly feckless way of treating people.¡±


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    ¡°So you offered your help?¡± Captain Edric said. ¡°For free?¡±


    ¡°For free.¡± Valens nodded, to which even the indifferent guy¡¯s head snapped up at him. ¡°Is it such an inconceivable notion that a Healer would choose to help those in need? Why are you all looking at me like that?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ strange,¡± Captain Edric said, frowning at him.


    ¡°What¡¯s so strange about it?¡±


    ¡°That you¡¯ve happened to be crossing through this path the moment the Duality Guild closed that Rift down and decided to help them on a whim,¡± Captain Edric said. ¡°Assuming that you¡¯re not inside that Rift with the guildsmen, that is, which is what Brother Mas here must be suggesting in the first place. That you¡¯ve been employed by the Guild as an outside help. That¡¯s against the treaty.¡±


    Well, good thing that you aren¡¯t aware that I was the one who closed that damned Rift in the first place. But now, as you can see, I¡¯m just a benevolent healer. All for the people of this world, no matter how crooked and twisted their beliefs are, eh? Certainly not the welcome I expected after having been dealt a death sentence by my own people. Fancy that.


    ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous,¡± Valens said, winking at Celme when she gave him a burning look that basically said, ¡®You can say anything as long as you didn¡¯t admit you¡¯re inside of that Rift with us,¡¯ ¡°What would I do in that Rift? That¡¯s not a place for a Healer, is it?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re Level 100,¡± said the indifferent guy. Bothersome bastard. ¡°That doesn¡¯t happen with wandering about the countryside and offering free help to anyone you come across with. Gotta get your hands bloody for that sort of thing. Or get some others to spill the blood for you.¡±


    Valens by no means disagreed with the bloody part, as he¡¯d been through a fairly bloody deal in that Rift, with a number of Skeletons and their big brothers and uncles, and a Necromancer to serve as the top of the pie, but by the look of these three golden warriors, admitting that fact wouldn¡¯t be very clever of him.


    "Eh, you caught me! Then I must confess, with all my heart, that I¡¯m indeed a bloody good Healer,¡± he decided to say with the best smile he could muster. Celme¡¯s mouth parted slightly open as Valens continued, ¡°Beating around the bush has never been a quality of mine, so let us move on with it. I¡¯ve no cards to hide, no secret agenda to be about other than helping those men in desperate need of attention. Your call, Captain.¡±


    Cries of agony beyond the tent, groaning of men and women lined in a row, waiting and hoping to find some relief inside. They were all being delayed since some righteous warrior of this so-called Golden Sun¡¯s Church decided to accuse a Healer of all people with¡­ what, exactly? Being a minion of the wicked? A limb of the Shadow? Going for a solitary attempt at breaking whatever peace was there in these lands by the act of healing?


    Or is this the usual business of all religions? Get enough Healers here, then there¡¯ll be no one to give a rat¡¯s ass about your Priests, no? None will remain of that zealous, ignorant bunch to cheer the Gods. None will care to heed the calls of prayer when there¡¯s a faster, better option to choose.


    Clockwork routine of handling the masses. The Empire had resorted to such measures after the last Magi Rebellion, which had happened hundreds of years prior. Used that to its full effect to propel the innocent populace into believing that magic was to be kept under tight leashes even though it was what pulled them out of their primitive ways and dusty roads of rotten, wooden cages and dimly lit hovels.


    The Magi were the pioneers, not just of arcane power, but of progress itself. It was they who had transformed the kingdom into a grand Empire. Without the Mana Rail and its magic-powered locomotives, the ever-stretching bridges spanning the rivers, the opulent palaces and marble-clad buildings, how many centuries would it have taken those ignorant people to crawl out of their primitive shells?


    And yet, as Master Eldras once told him, it was both a gift and a curse that humans were masters of adaptation. The novelty of a grand discovery tended to wear off with the passing of time until it was barely mentioned by anyone. People would adapt to any marvel of the world and shrug it off as though it was ever a part of their lives, caring not of the pain of the effort suffered by the pioneers.


    A part of Valens wanted to scream at the hypocrisy of it.


    Captain Edric stretched a hand out through the flaps, revealing the rows of men waiting in the line. Mas was tapping a nervous finger over his sheath, likely a habit to cope with tension, while the indifferent guy, whose name was still a mystery, seemed not all too bothered other than a faint interest in his eyes. Celme, on the other hand, was sneaking looks from the outside, fingers clenched tight under her new robe.


    ¡°Continue with your work,¡± Captain Edric said after the long silence, looking between the stretcher and Valens. ¡°I¡¯ll speak with the Guild Master.¡±


    ¡°But Captain¡ª¡±


    ¡°Enough, Mas. Get back to the carriage and wait for my call. We¡¯ll decide what to do with this Healer once I get a better understanding of the situation. Too many questions here,¡± he shushed the fuming man with a hard glance, then turned and patted the indifferent guy on the shoulder. ¡°You stay here, Garran. Make sure our Healer friend doesn¡¯t go missing.¡±


    ¡°Really, Captain?¡± Garran huffed out a long breath. ¡°I was about to get myself some rest. Uh¡­ Tell me, again, why are we here in some C-tier Rift¡¯s gate? The Brotherhood¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll fetch you up when I¡¯m done with this,¡± the Captain smiled and nudged Mas with the tip of his head out of the tent. He himself stepped out later, giving Valens a last, measured look.


    ¡°Damned Priests,¡± Garran muttered under his breath, which earned some pointed looks from everyone in the tent. ¡°What?¡± he said. ¡°Think I look like a nursemaid? I¡¯ve got a Wailborn waiting for me strapped to the carriage down the road to be exorcised and killed off. My cursed luck that I¡¯ve persuaded the Captain to take a breather here. Didn¡¯t know what I was getting myself into. Certainly didn¡¯t expect a little guild and a Healer who thought himself too clever, I tell you that.¡±


    ¡°Cursed luck, eh? That makes two of us,¡± Valens said and nodded at Celme and Marcus. ¡°Get me the next patient, will you? We¡¯ve been delayed enough already.¡±

 Chapter 38: A Little Conversation

    The frequencies danced wildly over the Resonance as Valens focused on a worm nibbling at the lung of the unfortunate man. It wasn¡¯t alone, as a host of them tried to gobble down the whole thing, oozing with pus and rot and anything wicked that he could think of.


    ¡°Ahh,¡± Marcus belched out in the back, one hand pressed hard into his stomach, emptying his sins and wrongs into a bucket Celme had fetched from the carriages down the road.


    ¡°Can you do something about it already?¡± Valens scowled over his shoulder to Celme, who was busy patting the man on his back. ¡°Whatever that it is, it¡¯s clearly not working.¡±


    ¡°What do you want me to do?¡± the Berserker glared at him with one of her sharpest glares. ¡°He¡¯s at it for some time. I¡¯m sure there¡¯ll be nothing left soon.¡±


    ¡°So we¡¯ll wait for him to be off with anything in his belly? That¡¯s not wise.¡±


    ¡°But practical.¡±


    ¡°Not wise, and it reeks here.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s coming from those worms, not Marcus.¡±


    ¡°Really? I don¡¯t smell it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s because you¡¯ve both your hands deep in that man¡¯s guts. Take a step back, then you¡¯ll understand.¡±


    ¡°Uh,¡± Valens grunted, turning back to the patient. It was the most severe case he¡¯d seen during the short time since he¡¯d turned this tent into a healer¡¯s den. The rotten mana that animated the skeletons had infected the tissues of the man¡¯s lungs. That wasn¡¯t anything special on its own, but those infected tissues were turning into bloody worms at an alarming rate that flooded the man¡¯s innards.


    Keeping the Lifeward active around the area, Valens felt his hand squelch through the wriggling guts as he sent a Lifesurge up the lungs. Lifemana could kill these worms off with a wave, but to stop the constant reproduction, he had to carve out the infected parts of the lungs while making sure they were still supplying enough air for the man to breathe.


    Not that he¡¯s in the mood for breathing.


    He clicked his tongue at the fact that he didn¡¯t have any sedatives to send the man into a blissful sleep. With him wriggling and jerking at every stab of pain, Valens had no other option but to go elbow-deep in his guts. His new robe was all soiled with rotten blood already, and it was seeping inside, wet and sticky down his legs.


    ¡°I need hands!¡± he demanded at the indifferent guy who stood with his arms crossed over his chest, clearly not interested. ¡°Hey, will you be interested in keeping this man from killing himself¡±¡ªhe ducked under an arm swinging mindlessly toward his head¡ª¡°and me!¡±


    Garran shrugged and turned his head without uttering as much as a word.


    ¡°Some holy warrior, you are,¡± Valens spat. ¡°So much for your Sacred Father, eh?¡±


    Celme came stumbling over to the stretcher when Marcus went silent behind Valens and fixed the man¡¯s arms to both sides. Trouble was, the man, like others, was a Level 100 Warrior with a handful of stats poured into Strength and Endurance, which was why Valens had to duck away at every swing of his arm unless he wanted to be flung away from the tent like a broken kite.


    Would¡¯ve been nice for a change.


    Smoke started wafting off from Celme¡¯s skin shortly, the woman using some skill of her Berserker Class which proved quite effective at keeping the man in place. He might as well have turned into a little kid by how he couldn¡¯t even move an inch under Celme¡¯s bloody hold.


    ¡°Good,¡± Valens said, feeling the worms with a Lifeward. He slashed a part of the lung with the tip of a Lifesurge, letting it resolve into a wave of lifemana to heal the area, before moving on to another part from which spilled hosts of worms into the man¡¯s innards.


    Flush. Cut. Stitch. That was the rhythm of his working, and slowly, painfully, the lungs were cleared out of the angry worms trying to seep inside.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Valens breathed when the last stitch was done. Enough blood poured down from the guts that the man went ghostly pale, but his stats were doing some work under there, and Valens appreciated the little help. ¡°Done with that, but guess this one¡¯s not walking out on his own. Take him away, and give him some water.¡±


    The normal procedure would be to keep an eye on the patient for a day or two in case the infection flared back, but normal hadn¡¯t been the case for Valens lately, and it was much less here in primal conditions.


    But they have stats. I have stats. I need more. More of everything.


    His mana reserve wasn¡¯t much different than a roaring river by his heart, barely dwindling after having treated a number of patients. Granted, the pair of Lifesurge and Lifeward skills were nothing compared to keeping the Inferno active, but by general standard, he couldn¡¯t have healed even a dozen people if he were to be, say, a Level 20 Arcane Healer.


    ¡°You¡¯re sure you want to continue?¡± Celme asked as two men from the Duality Guild came to carry the patient outside. She looked worried. ¡°Elmbury is not far from here¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m good. This is good,¡± Valens said. He appreciated the gesture, but he felt oddly liberated working with the patients. Sure, the nature of the job had taken a different turn, and some cases were strangely twisted in a way that poked at the intelligent part of his brain, but either way, the act of healing gave him much-needed relief.


    Trying a little too hard, aren''t we?


    He shook his head. Breaking the oaths was one thing, but it didn¡¯t make him any less a healer. A complicated one, perhaps, but he was due some complication considering how strange of a world he¡¯d come to.


    ¡°I need this,¡± he said when Celme lingered there by his side, staring at him as though she didn¡¯t believe him. ¡°Fetch the next one, for me.¡±


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    ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡­..


    It was always bleak and dreary in the countryside, with dark clouds stirring anxiously over the naked trees, spread across the sky like a shroud too thick for anything to pass through. It would be raining soon, and it meant the roads would get muddy with the deep puddles waiting to catch any hoof just to add yet another hurdle to the already burdened people who had yet to migrate to the big, bad cities.


    Captain Edric Solmere didn¡¯t mind the weather. He liked it, even, as a hawk might like an occasional trip through the woods whenever its master decided to grant it some freedom. Off the cage of the brick monotony of Belgrave, for a change, off with the smoke belching out through the factories, the stench of manastones burning in the pits of fire, feeding into the ever-greedy bowels of the machine that is the capital.


    Not by choice, of course, but you have to learn to cherish the little things. No other way around to go about your life. That¡¯s what his Father told him once before he excused himself from his life with a rope around his neck.


    You have to cherish the little things, Edric reminded himself as he gazed across the bare patch with dozens of broken men suffering in silence. Over his shoulder, toward the tents where the Sacred Father¡¯s Priests were at work, then back at the tent he¡¯d just stepped out of. The other lines barely crawled on while the men carried inside by the armpits or over the stretchers walked out on their own from the Healer¡¯s tent at every passing minute.


    He wondered whether he should be angry with the inefficiency of the Priests, or the sheer foolishness of a guild going for a bite that¡¯s clearly bigger than they could ever chew. Such things weren¡¯t uncommon in Broken Lands, but here in Haven¡¯s Reach, there were certain rules to prevent mass deaths.


    Somebody must''ve pulled some strings, then, to get the rights of the Rift from the authorities. Not to mention, each and every one of the men here was clad in the Golden Church¡¯s armor. These were not entirely considered Sacred Artifacts but were decisively close to anything magical a Blacksmith could make.


    Edric squinted at the man who was ordering about the others as he passed through the tents. He wore simple robes smeared with stains of rot and had a face that spoke of some respectable quality. An air of aura clung to him, suppressed masterfully but still felt by Edric¡¯s deep perception.


    [Lightmaster - Level 217]


    A Light Mage?


    Now, that was a man who shouldn¡¯t have belonged to some no-name Guild. Mages were already scarce in number, and a Light Mage with Two Trials under his name was a force to be reckoned with. A simple walk round the Broken Lands would have gotten him more invites from famous Companies than he could¡¯ve counted. It made little sense as to why this man had chosen to lead a bunch of Pretrial people into a C-Tier Rift.


    ¡°Lightmaster,¡± Edric said as he neared the old man, giving him a quick nod. The battle-worn men of the guild snapped suddenly at his voice, eyes widening as they took sight of him. Hesitation. Fear. Uncertainty. Edric scowled at the mixed responses. ¡°A word, if you will?¡±


    ¡°Templar,¡± the Lightmaster said and gestured at the other men to give them some space. The old man, as expected, handled himself with the confidence of a Master, barely flinching at Edric¡¯s shining armor. ¡°What do we owe your holy presence here on this dark day? I certainly didn¡¯t expect to have a Captain of the Sacred Father¡¯s Church be here to welcome us.¡±


    ¡°A coincidence,¡± Edric said, weighing him with a glance. ¡°There has been a haunting case in Elmbury, and our service was needed. Some work of the bloody moon the other day. I see that you were a little busy here, as well. Things didn¡¯t go as planned, I presume?¡±


    ¡°A Necromancer with a horde larger than we expected.¡± The Lightmaster¡¯s answer was short and succinct, to the point that it made Edric think the man didn¡¯t want to go too deep in detail. ¡°But we managed to pull through.¡±


    ¡°Well, some of you clearly didn¡¯t.¡± Edric waved a hand at the pile of dead bodies by the side. ¡°You of all people should know that is unacceptable, Lightmaster. There¡¯s a reason why we let the appropriate people handle the high-tier Rifts rather than sending our Pretrial kids to their own deaths.¡±


    ¡°I have found, respected Captain, that certain measures and preparations hardly translate into the reality I came to experience in the Broken Lands. Caution is a code I dearly cherish, but too much of it muddles the mind into believing that a man can do anything so long as he¡¯s cautious. That¡¯s not how it works, though, is it? The horrors of Shadow don''t always give an indication before they flood through the cracks round your skin. One has to learn how to deal with the unexpected.¡±


    ¡°Still,¡± Edric said with a scowl. ¡°That doesn¡¯t explain your suicidal expedition here. Who granted you the claim? I must¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to stop you right there, Captain. Our permits are official and granted by His Majesty King Edmund, signed by the Prime Minister and the Lord Chancellor, aptly as law dictates. I should have the documents somewhere here. If you wish, I could have my men fetch them right away.¡±


    Edric¡¯s scowl deepened at the strictness of the Lightmaster¡¯s speech. He didn¡¯t have the authority to further question the old man¡¯s true intentions with this Rift, nor was it his job to make sure the Rifts were cleaned and closed by the ones who had earned the claims of the rights. Besides, other than a handful of Priests, there were no extra measures taken against a possible Riftbreak here, which indicated that the authorities had some semblance of trust in this guild¡¯s qualifications.


    ¡°What of the Healer, then?¡± Edric asked, pointing at the tent that odd man occupied. The line there streamed in and out in a quick fashion, the speed of which tempting the other lines where men had to wait in constant agony. ¡°Surely you have an explanation for him?¡±


    ¡°A God-sent saint, I daresay, who offered his services free of any charge. Happened to be crossing this particular stretch when we were crawling out of that Rift,¡± the Lightmaster beamed with a smile that twisted his lines in a way that made Edric uncomfortable. ¡°A boon from the Sacred Father, don¡¯t you think, Captain? As usual, he works in mysterious ways.¡±


    ¡°Blessed Father,¡± Edric said and kissed the knuckle of his right index finger, touching it round his forehead. The Lightmaster did the same, albeit with much less passion. ¡°Another coincidence, then, if we are to believe your words.¡±


    ¡°Why would you suspect an old man?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the job,¡± Edric eyed him, then scowled at the guildsmen around them. They had snake-shaped patches over their armor, likely the insignia of their guild. Odd that. He could¡¯ve sworn he¡¯d seen that symbol before. He turned with a tight-lipped smile. ¡°You learn to expect the unexpected in my field, as well, Lightmaster.¡±


    ¡°Very wise of you, I must say, Captain. Our Kingdom is lucky to have men like you.¡±


    ¡°The Riftshard,¡± Edric said, waving off the Lightmaster¡¯s apparent attempt at muddling the matter. ¡°You¡¯ll be sending that to Belgrave to be delivered to the King¡¯s Court, right?¡±


    ¡°You know the Riftshards belong to the nation¡¯s treasury, Captain.¡±


    ¡°Another coincidence, then! As we were on our way back to the capital as well,¡± Edric smiled the man a good smile. ¡°Blessed Father and his ways, eh, Lightmaster? I would gladly accompany your men on their journey.¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯ll be taking that Healer with me, too. Can¡¯t have a saint like him wander about all alone in these dark times, can we? A godless saint, but a saint nonetheless, eh?¡±


    The Lightmaster visibly stiffened at the last part. Edric reached out and patted him on the shoulder. ¡°You might have some strings waiting at the fancy of your fingers, but with me, here, we¡¯ll do this a little differently.¡±


    Edric weighed him up and down as he expected another tell from the man. Perhaps a twitch of an eye, or a pull at his neck. This whole operation reeked of wrong, and he was meant to see through that stench for good. Poke at it for the Blessed Father¡¯s sake, as they usually went about with most things.


    ¡°Of course, Captain,¡± came the reply a moment after, the Lightmaster giving him a nod. ¡°My men would be glad to have your holy company across the way, though I wish not to bother you¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s not a bother at all, don¡¯t you worry.¡± Edric waved at him, lips curling wide. ¡°On the contrary, I feel quite refreshed now that I know we¡¯ll be having some interesting company on our way. Gets a little tedious with the same men and the same roads all month long. You would understand, right?¡±


    ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°Good. Have your men prepared, then. Once the Healer is done with the wounded, we¡¯ll be taking him back home.¡±


    .....

 Chapter 39: Road Trip

    By the time Valens was done with the wounded, it had started raining outside. Large droplets pounded against the canvas of the tent like solid stones, dripping in streams and oozing silently underneath the earth. Mud and the fresh smell of the empty forest filled the opening.


    All in all, he was satisfied with the result. One of his best efforts, to his thinking, if he were to dismiss the number of men who died before they got a chance to crawl into his tent.


    ¡°There¡¯s a reason why they are called Priests, not Healers,¡± Valens said as he and Celme stared out into the dark night from inside the tent. Garran lounged lazily outside, golden armor shining round the dreary black of the stretch, seemingly not too bothered by the rain washing off him in waves. ¡°Slouchy fools clad in the shell of their religious order. How easy it is to garner some respect in this world, one has to wonder.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re doing it again,¡± Celme said, more relieved than spent by the long hours that went into the work. ¡°Talking as though you¡¯re not from this world.¡±


    ¡°What if that was the case?¡± Valens asked, curious. ¡°You¡¯ve people who can command the dead here. Armies of undead being forged in some place called Underworld even as we speak. Ninth Legion, was it? I¡¯ll miss Nomad and his antics. There was something soothing about that man.¡±


    ¡°Stop!¡± Celme held a finger up to his lips, sneaking a glance at Garran. ¡°Don¡¯t mention anything about the Rift. You¡¯d promised you¡¯d keep it secret.¡± Celme then tilted her head back. ¡°And we are not in the Broken Lands. People aren¡¯t used to fighting the monsters of Shadow here.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Valens asked, intrigued. ¡°When were you planning on telling me that you belonged to a secret cult? That¡¯s what this is, right? That¡¯s why you¡¯re all acting as though you worship this Golden Sun or what¡¯s his face. And this Zodros¨C¡±


    Celme glared at him hard, which promptly shut Valens¡¯s mouth as he didn¡¯t want to stir any trouble here. He was just curious.


    ¡°Fine,¡± he said, going back to the earlier topic. ¡°If people here are not used to fighting the monsters, what do they do, then?¡±


    ¡°They live,¡± Celme said fiercely. ¡°Blissful in their ignorance. They like things as they are. That¡¯s why you don¡¯t see nobles rallying people for the common effort. No, they fancy their balls and jewels, the painted walls of their mansions and ever-bright halls of opulence too much to do anything that would change that. So long as the battle is being fought by the valiant, they are happy to remain in their cities.¡±


    ¡°Of course they are,¡± Valens said. He was beginning to form the root of an idea of such a society, as the Empire had worked in similar ways. Though they didn¡¯t have Rifts and monsters and a world broken beyond repair, it seemed to him that there wasn¡¯t much difference in mind.


    I might have to dig deep. Can¡¯t go around chasing monsters all the time. Stats and levels are important, but I¡¯m here for the truth of it. I need to learn about the culture. See if there¡¯s any wise Magi that could help me, too.


    That, and this ominous Trial that appeared the moment he¡¯d become a Level 100 Arcane Healer. He checked it once again.


    [Trial of the Arcane Healer - I]: She watches from the depths of the crimson waves, her court silent and waiting. Nigh is the time she¡¯s meant to awaken, but one must silence the whispers before they become a scream.


    It was something of a riddle, as it didn¡¯t outright state what he would have to do or where he would do it in between the lines. Who was this female thing, assuming that it wasn¡¯t a human being of course, and what was she aiming to accomplish with this awakening?


    Sounds like an occult summoning. Do they have those sorts of dark arts here?


    If so, that meant other than focusing on his stats and skill levels, he had to work on the depths of his repertoire of magical skills as well. Occult magic had been in wide use back in the early days of the Empire, but just like Warmagic and magic of similar nature, it was forgotten and forbidden when the Inquisition usurped the throne.


    The old texts scarcely mentioned it, and even Master Eldras in his grand wisdom didn¡¯t know much about it. But as a man who prided himself with the quickness of his mind, Valens could learn a trick or two if he could find enough clues to work with.


    New magic. New magic!


    A shiver ran down his spine. Valens barely suppressed the smile that threatened to stretch his lips wide. He didn¡¯t want to come out as a maniac who started barking out laughs with his hands bloody and a tent that seemed eerily like a torture chamber behind his back.


    ¡°You¡¯re done here, Healer?¡± came a voice as Valens reached for Apathy to steel his mind.


    ¡°We¡¯re all done here, Lightmaster,¡± he said with a strict voice. The Lightmaster was covered in a shell of blinking lights that kept him dry under the pouring rain, and he was coming at them with a scowl on his face, coming at them as if he¡¯d sunk his teeth into something nasty and was smarting from it. ¡°If you wish I can check you¡ª¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no need,¡± the Lightmaster said and stepped inside the tent with a sorry-looking Marcus in tow. The poor man was soaked wet from tip to toe, strands of hair sticking to his face in thick clumps. Deathly pale, as usual, which wasn¡¯t surprising considering the vomiting fit he¡¯d gone through earlier. The Lightmaster closed the flaps behind him as though to keep Garran outside before he started, ¡°We have to talk. There is an unexpected complication.¡±


    ¡°You mean the Templars,¡± Valens said.


    ¡°The Captain rightfully suspects that you were in the Rift with the rest of the guild,¡± the Lightmaster gave him a hard look. ¡°That we hired you for the job. It¡¯s against the treaty.¡±


    ¡°He mentioned something along those lines,¡± Valens said. ¡°What is that treaty, if I might ask? Some sort of contract binding you with the misfortune of having to rely on the services of those Priests?¡±


    ¡°Not just us, but all the Guilds,¡± Celme said from the side. ¡°It¡¯s against the law to hire a Healer for the Melton-registered companies.¡±


    ¡°There has to be a reason behind that,¡± Valens scowled, rubbing his chin.


    ¡°There is,¡± the Lightmaster said gravely. ¡°And it¡¯s a good one.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Valens asked. ¡°I can¡¯t wait to hear¡ª¡±


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    ¡°We don¡¯t have time to quench the embers of curiosity burning in your eyes, Healer. Captain¡¯s team will accompany you to the capital, and there is nothing we can do to change that.¡± He turned to Marcus, face creasing, before he gave a nod to Celme. ¡°You two will take the Riftshard to the court. Meet with Sarek to see about this other deal. My Brother should learn that we are ready to move on. I¡¯ll be waiting at the Fort.¡±


    ¡°Master¡­ I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a good idea to let them take Valens. If they learn¡ª¡±


    ¡°What would you have me do, child?¡± the Lightmaster said to her. ¡°You¡¯re standing up for a man who shouldn¡¯t even be here in the first place, and it¡¯s too late to kill him. We must remember the teachings during such times. We have to remember that we can¡¯t control fate and its currents. End of the discussion.¡±


    Celme lowered her chin. ¡°I understand,¡± she said. ¡°I will see to it.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± the Lightmaster said, and glanced at Valens. ¡°You have nothing to fear if what you¡¯ve told us is true. They will do a check on you to see if you¡¯re of that traitor¡¯s cult, and will further question your motives here. I¡¯ve said that you¡¯ve happened to be passing through this particular path when we were done with the Rift. A stranger offering his help for free of any charges. Die on that hill even if they force you.¡±


    ¡°What are the odds?¡± Valens smiled. ¡°I¡¯ve told them the same thing.¡±


    ¡°Clever kid. But you might want to keep that Inferno hidden in your sleeves. We all have wounds that are still fresh and need nursing, and this is more so the case with divine orders. They would be waiting for any sign to have you dangling down the walls. Don¡¯t give them any excuses, and don¡¯t mention anything about our Order and the undead. My Brother might be a magnanimous King, but he won¡¯t spare you if you spoil his plans.¡±


    ¡°While I appreciate the gesture, Lightmaster, I think I can manage on my own,¡± Valens pulled his hand up, finger pointed at Garran lounging outside. ¡°I daresay I could charm my way into those men¡¯s hearts. But for this once I¡¯ll oblige, since I¡¯ve little interest in breathing the dust of some backwater fort, assuming that you don¡¯t have the greatest of fortresses at your disposal?¡±


    ¡°Barely a keep,¡± Celme muttered, then shut her mouth when the Lightmaster glared at her.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Valens smiled. ¡°So, I¡¯ll take the offer. You can trust me. And where else but the capital can you begin to pry into the details that show a nation¡¯s own special touches, eh? I can¡¯t wait.¡±


    ¡°Special classes. Never met with one that¡¯s not crooked in some way or the other,¡± the Lightmaster sighed tiredly. ¡°Just don¡¯t go around healing people in the capital. Lord knows we don¡¯t have enough Priests for the poor, but things are scarcely about the well-being of the people in this kingdom.¡±


    ¡°That, I can¡¯t do,¡± Valens shrugged. ¡°Helping anyone in need is a quality I haven¡¯t yet decided to forego. I might keep at it for a while just to see about the odd cases I may chance across. Any other tips for me? Twisted monsters or other horrors I should be informed about?¡±


    ¡°You can ask her,¡± the Lightmaster said, nodding at Celme. ¡°She¡¯s from the capital.¡±


    ¡°Was,¡± Celme corrected him. ¡°And I¡¯d thought I would never have to return to that damned place.¡±


    ¡°We have to learn how to deal with the unexpected, child,¡± the Lightmaster reached with a hand and squeezed Celme¡¯s shoulder fondly. ¡°Handle the Riftshard, and get back to me. Then I¡¯ll take you to the Broken Lands for your Trials. The real battle awaits us there beyond sight, and we must prepare. The end is near.¡±


    ¡°The end is near,¡± Celme nodded, and watched as the Lightmaster stepped out of the tent.


    ¡­..


    Rows of carriages lined the path sloping downward, a heap of wood and snorting horses breathing in the foggy air of the dark. The ground was slick with rain, mud sticking to the tips of Valens¡¯s bare feet as he strolled with both hands clasped behind his back. A new robe was prepared and tucked in the case Marcus hauled over his shoulders for him, with the Riftshard safely secured inside a gleaming box of marble.


    There was something strange about Marcus that he couldn¡¯t understand. Even when he checked his body with a Lifeward, he only found a few signs of dehydration and fatigue. Nothing too serious, which suggested that Marcus here could be smarting from a mind issue.


    We all have our demons.


    ¡°Heavy, isn¡¯t it?¡± Valens then asked to get his mind off grim topics. He was met with a snort from Celme in return. ¡°Right,¡± he smiled. ¡°You have crazy bones and muscles, I forgot.¡±


    Stats changed a man in ways that defied scientific knowledge. A magical point into the unknown, then you¡¯d have your bones and tendons strengthened with the nursing of mana, which gave birth to supernatural humans.


    Valens would need more time to adjust to that fact.


    The captain and his team of sacred warriors waited for them down by the road, four men in total, clearly separated from the runt of the Duality Guild by not only the glamour of their carriage but also the size of their horses as well. The beasts were all clad in the same golden armor, which made it hard to tell them apart from their carriage. But then, through the Resonance, Valens caught the frequencies of the carriage and learned, much to his surprise, that the similarity between them was merely a play of colors.


    ¡°That carriage isn¡¯t entirely made out of gold,¡± he muttered with a finger pointed at them. Then, he scowled when his sound vision picked up the frequencies of the horses. ¡°But those are¡­ truly something else, I have to admit.¡±


    [Ironmane - Level 55]


    [Ironmane - Level 56]


    Guess I shouldn¡¯t have expected to see normal horses here.


    Glorious manes reflected the occasional moonlight spilling through the clouds, shining like thousands of stars that beckoned Valens for a tap. They looked softer than a baby¡¯s fontanelle and smooth as though cared for by a maid on night duty.


    ¡°Keep your hands where I can see them,¡± Celme said, fixing him with a glare. ¡°Ironmanes are special horses. They choose their own Masters, and they don¡¯t like strangers.¡±


    ¡°Why, I¡¯m not a stranger at all!¡± Valens said. He looked down at his robe and breathed in his own stench. The rain did a manageable job at washing it off of him, but still, the rot lingered by his legs. ¡°Perhaps another time, then. When I¡¯m clean and in a more presentable state.¡±


    There was an extension strapped to the carriage, fitted with four wheels upon which stood a tightly barred cage made out of a strong alloy. What was beyond those bars was hidden from sight, but the frequencies oozing from the gaps stabbed at the Resonance with such force that Valens had to steady himself with a hand over Celme¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°There¡¯s¡­¡± he breathed, fingers shaking as he tried to wrap his mind around these new tunes. Dark and twisted, of life that was unborn, of muscles and bones that didn¡¯t quite fit into anything he knew. The skin outlining its figure was deathly pale, with long, black hair dancing wildly about, nails as sharp and long as miniature spears, and jagged teeth dripping with nasty pus. A woman¡¯s figure, fluctuating like sound waves in his vision, never quite settling on a true form. ¡°A ghost?¡±


    That doesn¡¯t make any sense.


    Yet his skin prickled with invisible dread as he neared it. Whatever it was that was caged underneath those bars was trying to reach him through a trick of magic that seemed to be searching for a way to seep in but was cut sharply before the effort could find any purchase. Almost like a breath, now Valens thought about it, one that had a certain range.


    ¡°Healer, get on. We have a long way before us,¡± the captain of the sacred guards flashed him a little smile, jerking a thumb back at the carriage. Celme and Marcus dragged themselves silently inside, leaving Valens standing there all alone.


    ¡°Am I the only one who can feel that abomination trapped in this cage?¡± Valens asked indignantly but couldn¡¯t help himself as he moved over to the cage. ¡°Mind if I take a look, miss¡ª¡±


    ¡°Stop!¡± the captain yelled, reached forth, and yanked him by the arm, glaring him down with dagger-like eyes. ¡°Are you mad? We¡¯ve got a Wailborn in there! Get back if you don¡¯t want your brain sucked out by its promises!¡±


    ¡°A Wailborn?¡± Valens arched an eyebrow at the name. ¡°Another magical creature, then? But she seems like she could use some help--¡±


    ¡°Horrors of Shadow don¡¯t present themselves in their usual forms here, Healer. You ought to know that. Here, they wear our skin to do the Tainted Father¡¯s bidding. Now, get inside the carriage. We¡¯ll burn her quick in daylight.¡±


    The captain huffed his way inside the carriage while Valens lingered outside for a second longer. He glanced over the cage one more time to see if he could catch anything, but other than the atypical shift in the frequencies, there was nothing tugging at his interest.


    Another new find. I might have to get myself a diary to note these things down. Master would be curious to hear every single one of it.


    He got inside the carriage, and the whips cracked in the dead of the night, the Ironmanes roaring forth on all fours.

 Chapter 40: Truth

    It was a bumpy ride down the sloping path, the outside a bleak picture of dark colors that shaded the promises of the land. Naked trees through all of it stabbed at the earth at intervals, their roots gnarled around the thick mud, poking out like traps set out by nature to catch the unfortunate.


    Inside the carriage, however, it was a show of sparkling lights. Fitted to each corner of the compartment, wide enough for an eight-man company to fit in, were jewels sprinkling soft golden light down the seats. While appropriate for even a royal parade, it was instead being used by men clad in plated armor.


    Such indulgence and extravagance, and yet Valens had to admit it was better than breathing in the rotten stench of that cave. He lounged merrily with one hand stretched over the backseats, Celme and Marcus by his side, the edges of his lips curled in a beaming smile even as Mas fellow tried to glare him down to death.


    ¡°Relax, will you, Sacred Brother? This carriage has the comfort of a palace, but you¡¯re ruining the mood,¡± Valens teased the man, which earned him a different look from Garran, with the captain keeping silent in his usual moderation. ¡°Though if you wish, I can do a check on your facial muscles. You might have a few of them pulling at your visage to give you that look.¡±


    ¡°Heretic,¡± Mas spat, right hand moving over to the sword resting by the door. ¡°Your tongue can¡¯t save you from¡ª¡°


    The captain didn¡¯t even have to say anything to silence the man, as a simple look did the job. Valens presumed the hierarchy of their order could be tighter than it appeared, but the difference of their respectable strengths could be a reason as well. He couldn¡¯t see either man¡¯s levels, but he didn¡¯t need to, as everything was clear over the Resonance.


    It¡¯s like the difference between a lion and a slightly overfed cat. Oh, and a wild fox in the mix that¡¯s our indifferent friend.


    The muscle intensity alone reflected their stature, with the captain carrying layer upon layer of burning strength under his rather simple, a touch chiseled form. He easily weighed over three times what Valens was worth, and it was a marvel how the carriage kept its balance with men of his stature pulling it down.


    Those are strong horses, and this is some quality wood.


    Valens nodded and felt a touch around his arm when he was about to continue with his questions. Celme scrunched her nose at him, displeased by the casual way Valens handled this uncomfortable situation. She and Marcus resembled a pair of street urchins shoved into a royal ball, eyes squinted at the golden light shimmering too bright from the jewels, overwhelmed by the air of strength radiating from the sacred warriors.


    But Valens had his fair share of royal company back in the Empire, perhaps more than he would¡¯ve liked. However they feared the Magi and their disturbing potential, the heavyweights of the aristocracy and the industry often bribed their way inside the Institute to have their children trained at the craft. Master Eldras often likened this to an ¡®infiltrate and take control¡¯ kind of approach, though this scarcely worked in the way they¡¯d hoped.


    Most of the people Valens considered friends were from such families, and not one of them would prefer the riches of the material world to the endless pit of fascination that was arcane. Charmed and spellbound by the profession, smitten with the craft to the point of no return.


    But an occasional whiff of opulence is still much appreciated.


    ¡°You are a strange man,¡± Garran said, helm placed between his feet, long, dark hair spilling freely down the pauldrons of his golden plates. He had a pair of hawkish eyes, a nose that was perhaps a little too small, and a clean, distinct chin that gave him a sharp edge.


    ¡°I¡¯ve told you he¡¯s a heretic¡ª¡°


    ¡°I¡¯m not talking about that, you dimwit,¡± Garran rolled his eyes at him. Mas nearly fumed out of his nostrils and made for his sword, halting gingerly when the captain fixed him with a glance. ¡°He was elbow-deep in that man¡¯s guts. Carved him open like a cake, pulled his innards out and stitched them like he was tying a noose for a hanging. I¡¯ve never seen a Healer do that sort of thing.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re saying it¡¯s not dark magic?¡± Mas scowled at Valens. ¡°This bastard soiled those innocent men. Tore their skin open. That¡¯s a grave sin¡ª¡°


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    ¡°In my defense,¡± Valens pulled up a hand. ¡°The man had been already carved open. On top of that, he was being consumed by rotten worms and would have died a terrible death if I hadn¡¯t interfered. And I didn¡¯t tie his guts up; I stitched the holes and fixed his lungs. There¡¯s a difference.¡±


    Mas jabbed a thick finger at him. ¡°Hear! He admits to having sinned! Captain, I¡¯d say we burn him with the Wailborn. See if he¡¯s any shadows in him.¡±


    ¡°We are not burning a Healer just because he works in unusual ways.¡± The captain pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°They have Healers plenty in Caligi, and I¡¯ve heard it¡¯s been working well for them.¡±


    ¡°Those fools do anything to piss off the Gods! We¡¯re calling the Sacred Father¡¯s wrath upon us by bringing this man to the capital. Bishop Cornelius¡ª¡°


    ¡°Shadows take you,¡± Garran muttered under his breath. ¡°You can¡¯t hang everyone who doesn¡¯t fit in your piss-poor view of the world. There¡¯d be no trade in Belgrave if we did that.¡±


    ¡°The Bishop will decide,¡± the captain said, eyeing Valens. ¡°If he¡¯s anything to do with that traitor, then the Bishop would personally see to it that he¡¯s hanged and hanged for good by the crowds. If not, we¡¯ll let him walk off. There are no laws against the good-natured special classes. You¡¯ve seen how he fixed dozens of men in such a short time. That¡¯s a gift I can appreciate.¡±


    ¡°The Church won¡¯t,¡± Mas said through clenched teeth. ¡°Special class or not, there¡¯s no place in Melton for Healers.¡±


    Valens listened to their conversation in silence, trying to understand their ways. Most details passed over his head, but one thing kept coming up: the traitor who seemed like the bane of this kingdom. A thorn stabbed hard into their heart, leaving behind a gaping hole once removed.


    ¡°You¡¯re talking about Baht,¡± he said. It seemed as good a time as any to learn more of it. ¡°I¡¯ve heard some things about him but never met the guy.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t speak his name,¡± Mas¡¯ eyes bulged. ¡°You know damn well who he is. Shadow¡¯s piece.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± Valens said, ignoring Celme¡¯s sharp poke at his side. All eyes turned at him, doubtful. ¡°I¡¯m not even sure I know what he did to earn this sort of treatment from you.¡±


    ¡°He tried to uproot the Divine Churches,¡± Garran said from the side, giving him a complicated look. ¡°All three of them. Rallied thousands to his cause, and people flocked to the tails of his robe like pups too eager for their father¡¯s attention. Some say with a wave of his hand he could bless hundreds of men.¡±


    ¡°Bless?¡±


    ¡°Heal anything that¡¯s wrong with them. Cuts. Sicknesses. Curses. Everything that you can think of. The man was like a God¡ª¡°


    ¡°You keep that mouth shut!¡± Mas roared.


    ¡°Easy,¡± the captain scowled at him. ¡°It¡¯s merely a myth. Nobody knows the details. It¡¯s been a hundred years already.¡±


    ¡°Whatever,¡± Garran shrugged. ¡°It was because of him Melton fears the Healers.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ interesting,¡± Valens said, slightly taken aback. ¡°But utterly foolish, I might add. I can¡¯t see the reason there.¡±


    Garran leaned forward, chest-plate rattling, reached for his sword, and clasped it tight in his hand. He nicked a deep cut across his cheek with the tip of it, blood spilling down in a stream while the other men kept their silence.


    ¡°Killing¡¯s easy,¡± he said, looking at the bloody tip of the sword. He made for a swing at the air, at an invisible foe quick as a ghost. ¡°A cut through the neck, then you¡¯re gone. Ain¡¯t a pretty business, I tell you that, and not some heroic triumph to earn you the respect of the masses either.¡± He fished for something from a bag by the side, pulled out a cloth and pressed it upon the wound, smiling through the effort of it. ¡°But there¡¯s something different about a man who can promise real relief to the people in need, and we have more wounded than you can count in Melton.¡±


    ¡°A revolutionary,¡± Valens said, voice heavy. ¡°That¡¯s why you¡¯re using the Priests, then? To make sure the people know who they should be grateful for, eh? A devious plot. Comes handy as well when you don¡¯t have other Healers meddling with the effort.¡±


    ¡°Enough,¡± the captain said with a deep frown. His eyes strayed toward the windows as if scared someone would hear a word of the conversation, then back at the compartment with a snap. ¡°Been a long day. We¡¯ve got a lot to do tomorrow. Get a rest. All of you.¡±


    ¡°You just have to ask them, don¡¯t you?¡± Celme whispered when a silence settled over the carriage. She stole a glance from the warriors, then leaned closer. ¡°These are not simple men, Valens. You¡¯re playing with fire.¡±


    ¡°I certainly am not,¡± Valens whispered to make sure the templars couldn''t hear them. ¡°It¡¯s merely an attempt to grasp the nature of what I¡¯m confronted with. If you¡¯d tell me all of it, I wouldn¡¯t have to rely on some sacred warriors for every piece that I¡¯m missing in this puzzle. And yet, you¡¯ve been awfully quiet since we¡¯re out of the cave.¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± Celme swallowed. ¡°I have my reasons.¡±


    ¡°Well, they are not helping.¡± Valens stared her down. ¡°As much as I want to keep this farce, I also need to learn more. You can believe otherwise, but I¡¯m not here to play games.¡±


    ¡°Why are you here, then?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m in a search.¡±


    ¡°What for?¡± Celme¡¯s face creased into a scowl. ¡°Knowledge? Information?¡±


    ¡°Knowledge for itself alone?¡± Valens shook his head. ¡°There¡¯s only one worthy goal for a man who¡¯s out for a search. The truth. Everything else, from your different way of treating people to these sacred warriors and their religion here, is insignificant. Life and death. Nothing matters in the face of it, but these things might be woven into a shroud used to hide its crux to mere sight. So, I must learn all of it and can¡¯t let anyone get in my way. I''ve already broken the oaths.¡±


    And I don''t know what I am anymore.


    ¡°You¡­¡± Celme said eyes narrowed. ¡°Who are you? What were you doing in that Rift?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not relevant anymore,¡± Valens said. ¡°What is important is the path ahead.¡± He then crossed his arms and leaned back in the seat, closing his eyes for the night¡¯s sleep.


    ¡­¡­..