《In the Shadow of Monsters》 Chapter 1: Buried, But Not Dead Prologue: The Transgressor Ezren had always been alone. Not in the tragic, poetic sense¡ªno, he had family, coworkers, even a few online friends he messaged once in a while. But connecting with people? Talking to them? That was something he never quite figured out. Conversations drained him. Crowds made him anxious. Small talk was a nightmare. So, he spent most of his time consumed by stories. Movies, TV series, books¡ªfantasy worlds far more interesting than his own. He worked a minimum-wage job, just enough to keep himself afloat, spending his free time escaping into fictional worlds. And then, one day, as if the universe had finally decided to make his life a little more interesting¡ª Truck. Impact. Darkness.
When he opened his eyes, he was somewhere else. A vast, endless expanse of white. And standing before him, with an almost bored expression, was an angel. Not the glowing, awe-inspiring figure Ezren had expected¡ªjust a regular-looking guy in flowing robes, holding a clipboard, chewing gum. "Oh, hey. You¡¯re dead." Ezren blinked. ¡°¡­What?¡± The angel sighed, flipping through his clipboard. "Dead. Deceased. Expired. Flattened by a truck. Doornail status confirmed. Need me to spell it out?" Ezren¡¯s brain tried to process that. ¡°im I dead?¡± The angel raised an eyebrow. "Huh, you caught on quick. Makes this easier." He clapped his hands together. "Alright, here¡¯s the deal. You get two choices¡ªone, move on to the afterlife. Boring, predictable, eternal peace, blah blah blah.¡±** He gestured dramatically. ¡°Or! You can get reincarnated into a random world!¡± Ezren narrowed his eyes. ¡°Random?¡± "Yep. Think of it as a lottery. First, we roll what kind of world you end up in¡ªmight be medieval fantasy, futuristic sci-fi, apocalyptic wasteland, or a world where everything is made of cheese. Who knows?" Ezren frowned. "That last one sounds awful." The angel ignored him. "Then, we roll what kind of being you¡¯ll be¡ªhuman, elf, orc, slime, sentient tree, cursed sword, you name it. And finally, your role¡ªhero, villain, farmer, dungeon boss. Could be anything!" Ezren rubbed his temples. ¡°Wait, why are you even offering this?¡± The angel waved a hand lazily. "God got bored. Earth is like an anthill He forgot about¡ªchecks in once in a while, but mostly leaves it alone. So now, He¡¯s throwing people into new worlds just to see what happens. Keeps things entertaining." The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Ezren sighed. "Of course He does." The angel leaned forward. ¡°Sooo? What¡¯s it gonna be? Afterlife? Or a whole new world of suffering and adventure?¡± Ezren didn¡¯t even have to think about it. "I¡¯ll take the reincarnation." "Nice. Let''s roll your new world first!" The angel snapped his fingers, and a massive, glowing roulette wheel appeared in the air, symbols flashing across it¡ªswords, spaceships, monsters, castles, barren wastelands, glowing cities. It spun rapidly, clicking with each turn. Ezren held his breath. Please not the cheese world. Please not the cheese world. The wheel slowed¡ªand landed on¡­ [MAGIC WORLD] The angel whistled. "Oof. Tough luck, buddy. You¡¯re going somewhere rough." Ezren felt a pit in his stomach. " rough?" "Oh, you know. Monsters, war, probably some gods messing around with mortals. Fun stuff." Before he could protest, another wheel appeared. The ¡®What Are You Now?¡¯ Wheel. Ezren watched as **races and creatures flashed across the board¡ª**human, elf, beastkin, demon, dragon, slime, even weirder things. It spun again. Slowed. Stopped on¡ª [HUMAN: MAGE] The angel nodded approvingly. "Hey, not bad. Could¡¯ve been a goblin." He snapped his fingers, and a thick, leather-bound book materialized in his hands. "Alright, here¡¯s your magic guide. All the basics are in there¡ªrunes, circles, mana theory, yada yada. You¡¯ll figure it out." Ezren reached for it¡ªbut the angel yanked it back. "Oh, almost forgot! Special skill!" Ezren perked up. "I get a cheat skill?" The angel grinned. "Yep! Let''s see what you got¡ª" Another spin. Another wheel. Ezren¡¯s pulse quickened. This was it. His game-breaking, overpowered ability. His golden ticket to surviving this nightmare world. The wheel slowed. [???] Ezren squinted. ¡°¡­What does that mean?¡± The angel scratched his head. "Uh. Huh. That¡¯s weird. Maybe it¡¯s something good?" Ezren glared. "What do you mean ¡®maybe¡¯?! This is my life!" "Too late, time¡¯s up! Off you go!" Before he could react, the angel¡¯s foot slammed into his chest. Like a scene straight out of 300, Ezren was Sparta-kicked into the abyss, the last thing he saw was the angel waving at him. "Good luck, sucker!" And then¡ª Darkness. Falling. And then¡ª Pain. And then¡ª His new life began. Chapter 1: Buried, But Not Dead The first thing he felt was warmth. A deep, unnatural heat spreading through his body, flowing into every limb. Then came the pulse. A slow, steady rhythm¡ªa heartbeat that was not his own. And then¡ªpain. Ezren¡¯s eyes shot open, but all he saw was darkness. Tight pressure crushed his body, dirt packed against his skin. Panic surged through him. He couldn¡¯t breathe. He couldn¡¯t move. He was buried. His mind reeled. The last thing he remembered was¡­ dying. Not here. Not in this world. The memories crashed into him like a tidal wave¡ªtwo lives intertwining. One was his own, distant and fading. The other was sharper, stronger. Orin. A fifteen-year-old apprentice warlock. Executed. Buried. Left to rot beneath the earth. But the body was no longer Orin¡¯s. His soul was gone. Ezren¡¯s had taken its place. And somehow, this broken body had healed itself. He touched his chest. No wounds. No scars. The inquisitor¡¯s blade had cut him down, yet he was whole again. It wasn¡¯t natural¡ªit was something else. Something dark. A slow, heavy presence coiled within him¡ªliquid dark mana, pooling inside his core. It was the only explanation. This wasn¡¯t resurrection. This was possession. But none of it would matter if he didn¡¯t get out of this grave. Ezren gritted his teeth, pushing against the earth. His fingers clawed at the dirt, shoving it aside. His muscles strained, his lungs burned, but he refused to be buried again. Then, after what felt like an eternity, his hand broke through. Cold night air kissed his skin. He gasped, dragging himself free, rolling onto the damp ground. The graveyard was silent, the inquisitors long gone. They thought they had ended a warlock. Instead, they had left behind something far worse. He wiped the dirt from his face, looking at his only possession¡ªa knife, still clutched in his shaking grip. He had no home. No allies. But he was alive. And that was enough.
Chapter 2: Kiereth and orin His master, Kiereth, had once been a commoner, his village destroyed in a raid. He had been knocked unconscious, left for dead, while his wife and son were slaughtered. When he awoke to their lifeless bodies, something inside him shattered¡ªand dark mana surged forth, awakening his potential. After Kiereth¡¯s family was slaughtered, grief and fury consumed him. With nothing left, he chose a life of battle, becoming a mercenary. Without a teacher to guide him in magic, he sought knowledge from his fellow mercenaries¡ªwarriors who wielded aura techniques. Adapting their methods to his dark magic, he developed a unique ability¡ªBlackblood, a dark mana enhancement that transformed his body, making him nearly invincible in battle. As his power grew, he formed a small group of elite mercenaries. Eventually, they were hired by a kingdom to eliminate a necromancer who had been pillaging villages and raising an army of the dead. The battle was brutal, but they emerged victorious. Afterward, while searching the necromancer¡¯s lair, they discovered his grimoires. Kiereth, keeping his intentions hidden, secretly took the books for himself before ordering the base burned to the ground. In the shadows, he studied the forbidden knowledge, learning how to cultivate dark mana, summon the undead, and control them at will. With his newfound understanding, he expanded his mana pool, pushing his body and mind beyond their limits. Battle after battle, he grew stronger, his power unmatched. Yet, as the years passed and the bloodshed continued, the rage that once fueled him began to fade. And in its absence, a hollow emptiness took its place. The thrill of combat had dulled. The faces of his enemies blurred together. No matter how many fell before his blade, the past did not change, and the pain did not fade. One day, while passing through a market, Kiereth''s gaze fell upon a boy¡ªthin, ragged, and bound in chains. The child was touched by dark mana, his potential wasted in servitude. Seeing something of himself in the boy, Kiereth made a choice. He purchased him, not as a slave, but as an apprentice. Stolen novel; please report. Under Kiereth¡¯s guidance, the boy¡ªOrin¡ªlearned discipline, combat, and the art of dark magic. He was taught to meditate, to sharpen his mind as well as his blade. Years passed, and Orin grew stronger, eventually reaching the level of a second-rank mage, his abilities honed through relentless training and hardship. But power alone was not enough. Kiereth sought true growth for his apprentice. And so, they abandoned their quiet life, venturing into a war zone¡ªwhere only the strong survived. Yet fate turned against them. In a kingdom ravaged by disease, fear and superstition took hold. Dark magic became the scapegoat, and suspicion ran rampant. Seeking favor with the crown, the thieves¡¯ guild saw an opportunity. They had once guided Kiereth¡¯s group through the city¡¯s underbelly, offering safe passage¡ªbut betrayal came swiftly. Whispers of warlocks and plague-cursed rituals spread like wildfire. The guild fabricated tales of forbidden magic, twisting truths to fit their own gain. It wasn¡¯t long before the inquisitors descended, relentless and without warning, like hounds upon the scent of prey. Desperate and with no way out, Kiereth made a final decision. Knocking Orin unconscious, he carved a summoning circle into the ground¡ªone of the last pages from a forbidden grimoire¡ªand invoked the name of Marquis Orias, Lord of Flesh and Form. Amused to be called after centuries, the demon listened to Kiereth¡¯s plea and offered a deal: his soul in exchange for a gift to his apprentice. When Orin awoke, a searing pain burned across his back. He couldn''t see it, but something had been etched into his flesh¡ªsomething unnatural, something permanent. Kiereth wasted no time. He convinced Orin that they needed to split up to evade pursuit, that it would be harder for the inquisitors to track them both. But it was a lie. Kiereth had no intention of running. As Orin fled into the shadows, his master turned to face their hunters. With a final, knowing smile, Kiereth raised his blade. The inquisitors swarmed him, their holy magic clashing against his darkness. He fought with everything he had, buying precious moments, ensuring Orin had a chance to escape. But in the end, he fell. Orin ran, desperate, his breath ragged, his vision blurred by exhaustion. But the inquisitors pursued him, their horses relentless, their torches a blazing reminder that there was no escape. His legs burned, his body screamed for rest, but stopping meant death. And then¡ªpain. A blade pierced his heart. Darkness swallowed him whole. And then¡ªEzren awoke. Chapter 3: Awakening the Dark Chapter 3: Awakening the Dark Ezren gasped as he dragged himself free from the grave, collapsing onto the damp earth. He lay there, chest rising and falling, savoring the cold night air. Dirt clung to his skin, his fingers trembling as they dug into the ground. He was alive. Memories surged through him¡ªflashes of a life that was not his own. Orin¡¯s past. The lessons of a warlock. The voice of his master, teaching him the art of dark magic. Ezren clenched his fist, focusing on the foreign energy inside him. It wasn¡¯t just a feeling¡ªit was a substance, shifting between liquid and solid with his will. Mana was in the air, flowing freely for mages to harness. But dark mana¡­ it was different. ¡°You must feel it,¡± his master¡¯s voice echoed in his mind. ¡°It isn¡¯t light. It isn¡¯t free. It¡¯s heavy, thick¡ªit clings to you. It lives in you. Now release it.¡± Ezren inhaled slowly, reaching deep within himself. A shiver ran through his spine as he felt it¡ªdense and viscous, like tar coursing through his veins. He focused, pushing it outward. Dark mana bled from his pores, twisting toward his hand as he guided it ¡°Shape it. Mold it. Control it.¡± He willed the dark mana to gather in his palm, condensing it. Now, for the next step. He drew his knife, its edge glinting under the pale moonlight. Holding it steady, he pressed his will into the dark mana. The mana trembled, resisting shape¡ªwild, unrefined. He clenched his fingers, pressing his will deeper into it. The chaotic darkness coalesced, forming the rough outline of a circle, uneven at first, but gradually stabilizing. Symbols began etching themselves into existence within the ring, lines forming in perfect synchronicity as if the magic itself remembered. Then¡ªsnap. A pulse of energy surged outward, the Branding complete. The mark seared itself onto the blade¡¯s surface, dark lines sinking into the metal like ink soaking into cloth. The moment the spell took hold, Ezren felt it¡ªa tether linking him to the knife, a piece of his mana now bound to it. He exhaled sharply. The knife wasn¡¯t just an object anymore. It was his to command. Ezren focused, pushing his will into the Branding. The knife twitched, then lifted from his palm, hovering in the air. He didn''t need to move his hand¡ªthe blade responded to his thoughts alone. With a flicker of intent, he sent it gliding forward, smooth and weightless, like a predator circling its prey. A smirk tugged at his lips. He twisted the thought in his mind, and the knife obeyed, twirling effortlessly, carving arcs through the night air. Then, with a single, decisive command, he launched it. Stolen novel; please report. The blade cut through the darkness, whistling like a silent predator before slamming into a nearby tree with a dull thunk. The force embedded it deep into the wood, the handle quivering from the impact. Ezren¡¯s pulse quickened. The possibilities were endless. Ezren smirked. ¡°Not bad.¡± With a thought, the knife loosened from the tree and flew straight back to him. He caught it easily and slid it back into his belt. Now, for something harder. Blackblood ¨C A Technique Created by Orin¡¯s Master Ezren closed his eyes, concentrating. He let dark mana flow from his mana core, spreading through his muscles, bones, and organs. It moved like thick ink, saturating his flesh, altering it. He felt himself grow denser, more durable, yet strangely flexible. He clenched his fist, marveling at the sensation. A sudden pain seared across his back. Ezren grunted, staggering forward as heat flared beneath his skin. His tattoo¡ª**the mark of Orias¡ª**glowed with unnatural light. Then, without warning, a portal split open before him. Ezren froze, his breath hitching. The swirling void pulsed with raw energy, stable yet unnatural. This wasn¡¯t a dungeon gate. He had never seen anything like it. Did someone open this for me? The thought lodged itself in his mind, unshakable. It felt deliberate¡ªlike an invitation. Or a command. His fingers curled into a fist. He could turn away. Ignore it. But something about the portal felt¡­ inevitable. He exhaled and stepped forward. Into the Forge of Flesh and Bone.
Skills Branding Spell Type: Dark Magic (Control) Mana Cost: 10% of mana per activation + Variable (Locked Percentage) + Active Drain for Objects manipulation . Summary: Branding binds reanimated undead or objects to the caster¡¯s will by marking them with a tattoo-like magic circle. This mark does not glow and remains indefinitely unless destroyed or removed. The caster¡¯s mana is "locked" while Branding is active, reducing their available mana. Key Mechanics: Weaknesses: Blackblood ¨C A Technique Created by Orin¡¯s Master Blackblood transforms dark mana within the body into a symbiotic force, spreading like an aura to enhance strength and agility. Effects: Weakness: A double-edged power, Blackblood grants incredible resilience¡ªbut at a cost. Chapter 4 – The Fleshsmith Chapter 4 ¨C The Fleshsmith Ezren exhaled, still recovering from the lingering strain of dark mana spreading through his body earlier. His fingers tingled, his limbs heavy¡ªnot from exhaustion, but from something deeper. The sensation of dark mana, thick and weighty, still clung to his skin like an invisible second layer. The chamber around him was no ordinary cave. It was alive. A massive, underground chamber, roughly 20 meters in diameter, its walls were organic, pulsing as if they were the insides of a living beast. Veins bulged and throbbed, pumping thick, dark fluids through their fleshy surface. The vaulted ceiling stretched 7 meters high, curved like the ribcage of some colossal creature, with bony protrusions arching overhead. The air was thick with the scent of blood and damp rot. Above, the ceiling glowed with a sickly, bioluminescent light, its surface veined with luminous threads that pulsed rhythmically, as if drawing breath. The pale glow illuminated the chamber in uneven waves, shadows dancing across the writhing walls. This place was different. Unique. Ezren couldn¡¯t quite place it at first, but the realization soon struck him. The air was thick with dark mana, saturating the environment like a fog. The forge wasn¡¯t merely a place of creation¡ªit was a sanctuary for death itself. At the center of this grotesque cave stood the Altar of Flesh, a 2-meter-wide podium of writhing sinew and bone, pulsating with an eerie rhythm. Its surface was slick with dark mana, its structure shifting ever so slightly like it was breathing. The first time Ezren had placed his hand upon it, he felt his dark mana drain away, a magic circle forming beneath his feet. Something deep within the forge had connected to him. Now, whenever he entered this chamber, he could feel it¡ªGraos could emerge from the flesh at will. Ezren''s gaze flickered to the abomination before him. Graos, the Fleshsmith, rose from the ground, sinewy tendrils pulling his chitinous body free from the living floor. He resembled an insect-like entity, but his flesh was unmistakably human, twisted and reforged into something unnatural. His hollow sockets watched Ezren in silence. Ezren cleared his throat. ¡°What exactly are you? And... what is this place?¡± Graos clicked, his voice rasping with an unnatural quality. "Designation: Graos, The Fleshsmith. Created by Marquis Orias. Function: Reshaping, optimizing, and recombining organic matter through dark mana manipulation. This place¡ªThe Forge of Flesh and Bone¡ªis an extension of me. I am bound to it, just as I am bound to you. Graos rasped, "Corpses stored within this place do not rot. Flesh¡ªpreserved indefinitely. Decay¡ªnullified by dark mana saturation." Flesh¡ªpreserved indefinitely. Decay¡ªnullified by dark mana saturation." Ezren narrowed his eyes. ¡°Reshaping? Optimizing?¡± "All organic material has potential. Bone can be restructured. Flesh can be reinforced. Weakness¡ªimprove. Efficiency¡ªmaximized." A chill ran down Ezren¡¯s spine. He had assumed Graos was some kind of assistant, but this was something else. It wasn¡¯t just an artisan of flesh¡ªit was a cold, calculating machine that saw the living and the dead as mere resources. Graos twitched, then turned toward the center of the room. The fleshy ground trembled as it parted, revealing a sunken pit filled with a viscous, blood-red substance. Thick and gleaming like fresh gore, the Sinew Pool rippled as if alive. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. "Observe," Graos rasped. "Sinew Pool: Primary reconstruction medium. Bone¡ªframework. Flesh¡ªwoven. Regeneration¡ªstimulated. Flesh submerged¡ªpreserved indefinitely." Ezren stared at the shifting liquid, watching it pulse and churn in eerie rhythm with the forge itself. He could almost feel the dark mana saturating its depths, waiting to be shaped. Graos continued. "Material¡ªsubmerged. Flesh¡ªforms over skeletal foundation. Process¡ªaccelerated by dark mana. Efficiency¡ªhigh. Waste¡ªeliminated." Ezren exhaled slowly. So this was where the dead were reforged. A factory of flesh. He crossed his arms. ¡°And how do you perform this ¡®remaking of flesh¡¯?¡± Graos¡¯s hollow sockets locked onto him. "Process: Corpse required. Dark mana¡ªfuel. Flesh¡ªforged into new form. Limbs reconstructed, features altered, functions enhanced. Waste¡ªeliminated. The stronger the material, the greater the outcome." Ezren processed that. ¡°So¡­ you can shape the dead into whatever I need?¡± "Affirmative. With sufficient raw material and dark mana." Graos paused. "I am connected to you. Altar¡ªimprinted you. Your dark mana¡ªsiphoned when commands are given." Ezren''s eyes narrowed. "You use my dark mana to work?" "Correct. Graos¡ªhas no mana core. All actions require siphoning of dark mana from the designated master." Ezren glanced around the chamber again. If this forge responded to his mana, then maybe¡­ ¡°Can you reshape this place?¡± he asked. ¡°Like, make separate rooms?¡± Graos twitched. "Clarify: Purpose?" Ezren sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t know, maybe an actual workspace? A storage area? A place to rest?¡± The Fleshsmith was silent for a moment, then responded. "Possible. Structural rearrangement requires sustained dark mana input. Will drain reserves." Ezren grimaced. That wasn¡¯t ideal, but it meant he had control. He could make this place his own. He placed a hand on the Altar of Flesh, feeling the connection deepen. He could see it¡ªwith enough dark mana, he could reshape this place as he saw fit. But now wasn¡¯t the time. Not yet. This forge was not just a place of creation¡ªit was a sanctuary against decay.
Graos ¨C The Fleshforger (Summary) Graos is an insect-like entity fused with human flesh, his chitinous exoskeleton merging seamlessly with sinew and muscle, creating a grotesque yet functional form. His face lacks eyes, replaced by hollow sockets that seem to perceive his surroundings without sight. His voice is rasping and mechanical, devoid of emotion, emphasizing his cold, analytical nature. Created by Marquis Orias, Graos is a master of flesh manipulation, capable of reshaping, optimizing, and transmuting organic material through Ezren¡¯s dark mana. He has no mana core of his own, making him entirely dependent on Ezren to function. His Forge of Flesh and Bone is an extension of his body¡ªa living, sinew-covered chamber where corpses do not decay. He emerges from the forge¡¯s floor, his form unfurling from the flesh and bone, and remains motionless unless commanded. He views both the living and dead as raw materials, treating them with cold, calculating efficiency. His key abilities include: Graos is a strategic ally, acting as Ezren¡¯s personal fleshsmith. Graos emerges from the floor when summoned and remains motionless unless commanded. He is purely analytical, viewing both the living and the dead as raw materials for optimization Chapter 5: The First Hunt Chapter 5: The First Hunt Ezren exhaled sharply, stepping through the swirling portal and back into the forest. The air was cool and damp, thick with the scent of moss and decaying leaves. He clenched his fists. If he wanted to make use of the Graos, he needed corpses¡ªmaterials to work with. And for that, he had to prepare. He spent the next few hours collecting wood, dragging heavy bundles back to the portal before tossing them into the fleshy depths of the forge. When he had enough, he entered and set to work, shaping the wood into sharpened stakes. One by one, he carved them down with careful precision, their pointed tips gleaming under the dim, unnatural light of the forge. Thirty stakes¡ªenough for his experiments. Ezren extended his hands, gathering dark mana until it coalesced around his fingers like swirling shadows. He shaped the energy before him, weaving it into a magic circle suspended in the air. Symbols etched themselves into the darkened space, glowing faintly as the spell took form. When the circle was complete, he channeled his will into it. The magic activated with a sharp pulse, unleashing a surge of dark energy. Tendrils of shadow snaked outward from the circle, latching onto the fifteen stakes laid before him. All at once, the stakes absorbed the energy, their surfaces pulsing with a faint, eerie glow as Branding claimed them. The process was taxing¡ªa single cast that consumed 55% of his mana. 10% burned away upon activation, while the spell imbued the stakes, locked 48% of his reserves to maintain control over the stakes. The weight of it left him drained, his core feeling hollow. With a weary sigh, he closed his eyes and sank into meditation. The forge quickened the process, amplifying his recovery as dark mana seeped into him, filling the void left by his exertion. Yet even as his mana replenished, the locked portion remained untouchable, claimed by the Branding spell to keep the stakes under his will. Ezren extended his hand, his will reaching out to the stakes. One by one, they trembled before rising into the air, their sharp tips gleaming under the forge¡¯s dim light. His focus sharpened, and all fifteen stakes hovered before him, suspended by his will alone. The strain was there, a constant drain of mana, but he held them effortlessly. Then, he let them drop. ¡°Good,¡± he murmured. Next, he opened a portal. If he could summon the stakes from within the forge, they¡¯d be even more useful in combat. He reached through the connection¡ªand the stakes shot out from the other side, hurtling into the air before clattering to the ground. A sharp grin spread across his lips. It worked. He called the stake back and caught it in his hand, feeling its rough, polished surface. As he held it, he willed it to rise while keeping his grip steady. The stake floated upward, his will commanding it to rise. As it ascended, he tightened his grip and allowed himself to be lifted along with it. Slowly, steadily, he rose higher until he reached the height of a high tree branch. The strain worsened as he ascended, the effort of lifting both himself and the stake consuming his mana at an accelerated rate. He had enough. Slowly, he willed the stake to descend, careful not to shatter his bones upon landing. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. For his final test, he extended his hand, his will commanding the lone stake to rise. It floated before him, steady and obedient. With a sharp breath, he called upon the remaining fourteen stakes from within the portal, feeling their presence stir within the Forge. The stakes surged through the portal, hovering before him in a jagged formation. All fifteen glowed faintly under his command, their sharp tips angled forward. Without hesitation, he launched them downward, embedding them into the ground with precision. A satisfied smile crossed his lips. The exertion left him drained, his remaining mana reduced to a mere 6%. Satisfied with his progress, he returned to the forge, meditated until his reserves were full, then collapsed into sleep. ¡ª Dawn¡¯s light filtered through the trees as Ezren stepped out of the portal. He wandered the forest, scanning for prey. Hours passed before movement caught his eye¡ªa bird perched on a low branch, pecking at the bark. He reacted instantly. A flick of his wrist sent a knife flying. The bird darted to the side, escaping the strike¡ªuntil Ezren twisted his fingers, adjusting its trajectory with his will. The stake veered midair, striking true. The bird tumbled to the ground, lifeless. He opened the portal and tossed the corpse inside. Then he heard it. A low, guttural growl from the underbrush. His body tensed. His instincts screamed danger. Slowly, he took a cautious step back¡ª SNAP. A twig cracked underfoot. The growl turned into a vicious snarl. Leaves rustled violently as three wolves burst from the bushes, eyes glowing with hunger. Ezren didn¡¯t wait. He spun on his heel and ran. The wolves gave chase, their heavy paws pounding against the earth. The snapping of jaws grew closer, the hot breath of the lead wolf brushing against his heels. His heart slammed against his ribs. Eyes darting frantically, he spotted salvation¡ªa sturdy branch overhead. Without hesitation, he grabbed a knife, willed it to rise, and clung to it as it lifted him into the air. The strain was immediate, mana bleeding from him like an open wound, but he forced himself higher until he could grasp the branch and pull himself onto it. Below, the wolves circled, snarling and snapping, their yellow eyes locked onto him. Ezren wiped the sweat from his brow, a smirk curling his lips. ¡°Let¡¯s see how you handle this.¡± Ezren extended his hand, dark mana coiling around his fingers as he willed the portal open. Its swirling depths pulsed in response, awaiting his command. With a sharp breath, he reached through their connection, his mind latching onto the stakes stored within. His will tightened, and the stakes stirred¡ªrising from the fleshy ground of the forge. Then, with a mere thought, he unleashed them. The stakes shot out of the portal like arrows loosed from a bow, slicing through the air. The stakes rained down like a volley of daggers, their sharpened tips whistling through the air with deadly precision. Below, the wolves clawed and leaped at the tree, their bodies stretched upward in a frenzy of snarls and desperation. Heads thrown back, throats exposed, muscles straining as they tried to climb their way to him. The stakes struck true. Each one drove into flesh and bone¡ªpiercing skulls, crushing throats, and tearing through chests. Blood sprayed across the roots and leaves, splattering the ground with crimson. The wolves collapsed where they stood, their bodies crumpling mid-reach before falling lifeless to the earth. Ezren lowered his hand, his entire body trembling. The effort had drained him completely, leaving only a sliver of mana¡ªbarely 6%¡ªlingering within his core. He climbed down from the tree, his gaze sweeping over the blood-soaked clearing. With a flick of his wrist, he opened the portal and dragged the corpses inside, their twisted forms disappearing into the fleshy depths. A satisfied grin tugged at his lips. ¡°Not bad for a first hunt.¡± Chapter 6: The Forge of Flesh and Bone Chapter 6: The Forge of Flesh and Bone Ezren climbed down from the tree, boots landing softly on the damp forest floor. The air was thick with the scent of fresh blood. The wolves lay lifeless beneath the branches, their fur matted with crimson. He canceled the spell from the stakes, mana returning to him. He wasted no time¡ªopening the portal directly on the ground. Then, grabbing the nearest wolf by its hind legs, he dragged its limp body toward the swirling void. One by one, the corpses disappeared into the abyss. Stepping back, he closed the portal, then reopened it to his side. Without hesitation, he stepped in. Inside the portal, the air pulsed with a sickly warmth, the cavernous walls shifting like living muscle. The eerie glow from the magic circles cast flickering shadows across the grotesque chamber. As he stared at the wolf corpses, a memory surfaced¡ªOrin¡¯s voice, calm and clinical as he demonstrated the Soul-Siphon Technique on a corpse. Orin had crouched beside the corpse, fingers splayed like claws, threads of black energy entwining the lifeless form. "All things leave echoes," Orin had said, his voice low. "Even the dead hold traces of what once fueled them. Extract it, and make it yours." Ezren recalled how Orin¡¯s fingers had twitched, guiding the mana from the corpse like a puppeteer tugging strings. Ezren knelt beside one of the wolf corpses. He mimicked Orin¡¯s movements, dark mana coiling from his fingertips, sinking into the carcass like ink spreading through water. He felt a tug¡ªan eerie sensation, as if siphoning the last vestiges of life itself. His core responded, expanding ever so slightly as the stolen energy seeped into him. Without hesitation, he repeated the process on the remaining two wolf corpses, each time feeling that same eerie, draining sensation. A slow, chilling process, yet disturbingly natural. He sat cross-legged, closed his eyes, and meditated. An hour passed in silence. When he finally opened his eyes, his mana was fully restored. He exhaled slowly. This method¡ªif used properly¡ªcould make him stronger much faster than natural meditation alone. "Graos." At his call, the Forgesmith emerged again, his grotesque form coiling up from the flesh-ridden ground. Ezren cracked his knuckles. "Alright. Show me what you can do." The Forge Master did not hesitate. Tendrils lashed out, piercing into the wolf corpse. A black, web-like pattern of veins spread across their bodies as Graos¡¯ form quivered in concentration. "Processing¡­ Analyzing biological structure¡­ Retrieval of sample material¡­ Complete." Ezren watched as Graos¡¯ many eyes pulsed with strange intelligence. "And?" "Analysis of wolf anatomy: heightened night vision, sharp auditory senses, and enhanced smell. Efficient musculature for sprinting. Passive traits: high endurance and coordinated pack behavior. Weaknesses: brittle ribcage, weak underbelly." Ezren smirked. "Good. We¡¯re getting somewhere." He ran a hand along his jaw in thought. The possibilities were endless. But for now, he had to take things one step at a time. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. Ezren commanded, his voice firm. "Graos, repair them." Without hesitation, Graos¡¯ tendrils lashed out, dragging the two remaining wolf corpses toward the Sinew Pool at the center of the chamber. Their bodies sank into the crimson liquid, the surface rippling and churning as Graos began his work. The process drained 10% of Ezren¡¯s mana. Moments later, the restored wolves were laid gently upon the ground by Graos¡¯ tendrils, every wound mended, every blemish erased. Ezren¡¯s eyes narrowed as a thought struck him. If the Forge could restore a corpse to its original form¡­ what would happen if he skinned a wolf and then regrew its fur? His fingers tapped against the altar as the idea took shape. A renewable source of pelts¡ªhe could strip the fur, restore the body, and repeat the process endlessly. That meant coin. A lot of coin. He turned to Graos, curiosity flickering in his gaze. ¡°Tell me¡ªcan you recreate the skin or fur of a creature if it''s removed?¡± Graos, ever the calculating entity, let out a low, wet chitter. ¡°The process is feasible. Provided the biological material remains intact, the restoration function can reconstruct missing tissue.¡± Ezren¡¯s lips curled into a smirk. "Interesting." If this worked, he might have just stumbled onto a way to make easy money. Ezren wasted no time. "Graos, skin the last wolf and carve out the best cuts of meat," he ordered, watching as the grotesque forge master got to work. Graos¡¯ tendrils slithered over the corpse, expertly peeling the hide away in one seamless motion. The slick sound of flesh being separated filled the chamber. ¡°For consumption, the most tender cuts are the loin, ribs, and hindquarters,¡± Graos clicked, slicing away muscle with mechanical precision. Graos obeyed without question, extracting the lifeblood which seeped into the Sinew Pool until the meat was clean. Meanwhile, Ezren turned away, opening the portal. He stepped out into the forest once more, gathering dry wood and kindling. He set the dry wood down, grabbed a stick, and pressed it against a flat piece of wood. Normally, starting a fire like this would take effort, but Ezren gathered dark mana into his hand, Branding the stick. With just a thought, he made the stick spin against the wood, like using a bow drill but without the bow. Within seconds, smoke curled up, and a faint ember glowed in the dry tinder. Ezren crouched, giving it a soft breath. The ember flared, catching onto the fibers, and soon, flames flickered to life. He fed the flame, letting it grow before opening the portal and retrieving the fresh meat. It sizzled as he placed it over the fire, the fat dripping onto the crackling wood. Ezren tore into the cooked meat. It was tough and chewy, with a sharp, earthy taste and a hint of bitterness that stuck to his tongue. The crispy, charred edges were the only good part. Without seasoning, the meat tasted wild and plain¡ªgood enough to eat, but far from satisfying. "Not bad¡­ but some seasoning would really make this great," he muttered, licking the grease from his fingers. "Next time I hit a town, I''m buying some." Chapter 7: The Endless Cycle After his meal, Ezren turned back to his portal. He meditated to replenish his strength, and once restored, he issued a command to Graos. The butchering was complete, and now it was time to test his theory: if a corpse could be restored, could its useful parts be repeatedly harvested? "Alright, Graos. Let¡¯s try it. Use the materials from the butchered wolf to regrow the skin of the others." Graos slithered over and deposited the butchered meat into the Sinew Pool. The pool churned as it absorbed the flesh and converted it into usable material. Ezren felt a sharp drain on his power as the magic activated, and Graos reshaped the consumed material into three pelts of wolf fur, neatly folded and ready for use. With these, Ezren now possessed four wolf pelts. Moving on to the next step, Ezren commanded, "Graos, make bone spikes. Use what remains of the wolf¡¯s bones." Graos¡¯ tendrils lashed out, gathering the scattered bones and drawing them toward the Sinew Pool. The organic forge absorbed the raw materials, rendering them malleable. Ezren felt another heavy drain on his strength as his reserves were pulled away to fuel the process. With precision, Graos manipulated the material, reshaping the bones into ten bone spikes¡ªeach 15 inches long, formed like thick, sharpened stakes with tapered points. Graos clicked, his voice a low, grating rumble. "These spikes possess durability akin to high-quality steel, reinforced by dark energy. Their tapered points are designed to pierce through gaps in armor." Exhausted, Ezren sat down, closing his eyes and allowing the ambient energy to flow back into him. After an hour of silent meditation, his strength was fully restored. Later, when Ezren reopened the portal to the forest, the sun was beginning to set. He gathered wood, built another fire, and cooked the remaining meat. The scent of roasting flesh mingled with the cool evening air. After eating, he returned to the Forge and sealed the portal behind him.
Fatigue soon crept in; he needed rest. Approaching the altar, Ezren glanced at the shifting, pulsing floor and said, "Graos." The Forge Master slithered forward. "Yes, flesh-keeper?" Ezren ran a hand through his hair, contemplating. "What''s the best place to put a bed?" Graos let out a wet, clicking sound. "A bed? This chamber is adaptable. I can reshape the floor to accommodate your needs." Ezren smirked. "Make it like a mattress. Something comfortable." Without hesitation, the fleshy ground shifted and pulsed as it reshaped itself. The surface softened into a firm yet pliable structure. Ezren pressed his hand against it; it felt unnervingly like muscle¡ªwarm, yielding, almost like a proper bed. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. "Impressive," he murmured as he lay down, letting his body sink into the strange, living surface. It was far from a noble¡¯s feather bed, but compared to the hard ground, it was pure luxury. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes, and the eerie glow of the Forge dimmed as sleep took hold.
Ezren awoke feeling refreshed¡ªfree from hunger and exhaustion, with raw energy coursing through him. He stretched, then turned his attention to the three remaining corpses in the Forge¡ªtwo wolves and a bird. First, he instructed Graos to restore the bird to its original form. Next, he cast Branding on the corpse, feeling dark energy surge into it as the process drained a significant amount of his strength. Then, he prepared for the final spell¡ªthat Orin learned. Reanimation of the Dead Upon activation, the magic circle channels dark energy directly into the targets, causing it to convulse violently as the forbidden power surges through its form. The corpse reanimates, regaining a rough semblance of its former self¡ªthough still visibly decayed and unrefined. It attacks the living with the ferocity of a once-living creature, though its movements gradually slow as the relentless decay takes its toll. Notably, it instinctively avoids those who share its dark energy signature. Ezren cast the spell, and before him, two wolves and one bird stirred from death. Their reanimation drained much of his strength. Initially, the undead stood motionless, indifferent to his presence. Determined to bind them to his will, Ezren meditated once more to restore his energy before casting Branding on the undead. A strange sensation followed¡ªa tether forming between him and the creatures. It was a trade-off: while the undead were now bound to him, this binding came at a cost. The process locked away a substantial portion of his power, ensuring that a significant part of his energy would remain tied to these dark creations. Despite the limitation, Ezren felt a growing sense of control. The Branding had forged a link¡ªa tangible connection between master and servant. And as he surveyed his reanimated minions and forged weapons, he knew this was only the beginning of exploring the dark potential of his newfound powers.
ezren items 10 bone spike (shape of a stake) 15inch long (imbune) 1 knife 4 wolf pelts 2 reanimated wolf and 1 bird. For wolf, 15% of his mana was locked, and the bird consumed an additional 5%, totaling a 35% lock for the undead. Along with his weapons, which consumed another 30%, Ezren''s mana pool now sustained a permanent 65% mana lock. Only 35% of his mana remained free, the rest forever tied to his dark creations. spell Reanimation of the Dead Upon activation, the magic circle channels dark energy directly into the targets, causing it to convulse violently as the forbidden power surges through its form. The corpse reanimates, regaining a rough semblance of its former self¡ªthough still visibly decayed and unrefined. It attacks the living with the ferocity of a once-living creature, though its movements gradually slow as the relentless decay takes its toll. Notably, it instinctively avoids those who share its dark energy signature. extra info. any creature that is processed through the Sinew Pool retains its integrity¡ªits decaying tissues are infused with the liquid blood that prevents rot if goes outside the forge. Unlike typical undead, which often become sluggish and lose mobility over time, Ezren''s reanimated creatures are fully active, almost as if they were truly alive. Chapter 8: The Journey to the Plague Village Chapter 8: The Journey to the Plague Village As the first light of dawn broke over the horizon, Ezren stepped out of the portal. The air was crisp, carrying the distant scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. He exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the morning chill. His next destination was the village to the south, the one struck by the plague. But before setting out, he had work to do. He turned to his undead bird, its hollow eyes locked onto him in silent obedience. "Scout ahead. Find the village and report back." The creature flapped its tattered wings and soared into the sky, disappearing into the clouds. Next, he turned to his wolves. "Hunt." The two undead beasts loped into the underbrush, seeking small prey. Meanwhile, Ezren focused on refining his control over his Branded bone spikes. Spotting a bird perched on a low-hanging branch, Ezren flicked his wrist, sending a bone spike hurtling through the air. It missed, slicing past the bird and continuing forward before hovering briefly in the air. Ezren''s will clamped down on it, forcing the spike to twist and change direction mid-flight. With a subtle gesture, he guided the spike back toward its target, the bone shard arcing through the air and striking the bird with ruthless precision. (then he put the bird into the portal) Ezren focused on another bird, his control flowing effortlessly through the Branded spike. Each time he missed, he redirected the spike, altering its trajectory until it pierced his target. The sensation was intoxicating¡ªlike having a invisible hands at his command. Within the hour, he had felled ten birds, his mastery over the Branded spike sharpening with each successful strike. The wolves returned shortly after, dragging their kills¡ªa collection of three rabbits, two snakes, one turtle, and three frogs. Without hesitation, he deposited everything into the portal. He goes in the portal, he turned to Graos. "Analyze it." Ezren stepped back through the portal, emerging into the dim, pulsating glow of the Forge. Graos¡¯s many eyes glistened in the darkness, watching his master¡¯s approach with rapt attention. ¡°Graos,¡± Ezren called, his voice firm. ¡°Analyze the materials.¡± The Fleshsmith chittered in acknowledgment, extending tendrils from his body to grasp the birds, rabbits, snakes, turtle, and frogs he had gathered. Tendrils goes to the bodies. Analyzing ¡°Workable. All suitable for manipulation,¡± Graos rasped, his voice wet and guttural. ¡°What would you have me shape, master?¡± Ezren hesitated, then pulled two wolf skins from the portal, their fur still matted with blood. ¡°Can you make me a belt?¡± Graos¡¯s eyes blinked one by one, a ripple of amusement passing through him. ¡°A belt? No. Such things are beyond my craft. I shape the living and the dead, flesh and bone¡ªorganic matter. Belts are trinkets of leather and iron.¡± Ezren frowned. ¡°Then how about a bag? Something like¡­ a tote bag.¡± ¡°A bag¡­¡± Graos murmured, his voice thick with curiosity. ¡°Yes. A simple construct of skin, reshaped to hold.¡± Graos drag 2 wolf pelt into the Sinew Pool. They sank into the writhing mass, swallowed by the pulsing depths. Graos¡¯s tendrils extended, entwining and melding the raw material. ¡°Straps of sinew for strength¡­ layers of skin folded and bonded¡­¡± Graos rasped as he worked. ¡°An open top for ease of access¡­ reinforced seams to endure wear and strain¡­¡± The fleshy glow intensified, illuminating the grotesque craftwork. Moments later, Graos lifted the completed item from the pool¡ªa roughly formed but functional tote bag. The surface was smooth, the edges melded together with unnatural precision. Two thick, sinew-woven straps hung from either side. Ezren nodded. ¡°Beggars can¡¯t be picky.¡± He grabbed the tote bag by its straps, the fresh wolf skin cool and clammy against his gloved fingers. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. The bag was grotesque, its surface smooth and seamless¡ªno stitches, no rough edges, just skin fused together as if it had naturally grown into the desired shape. Graos¡¯s craftsmanship had melded the layers into a single, cohesive piece, the skin¡¯s natural oils leaving a faint, slick residue on Ezren¡¯s hands. It was unsettling. The texture was too lifelike, like holding something freshly peeled rather than properly cured. Yet, the bag was functional. It held its shape well enough, the reinforced base offering support and the straps sturdy where they fused into the body. Ezren slid one of his Branded bone spikes into the bag, testing the capacity. The skin flexed but didn¡¯t tear. One by one, he added more spikes, their weight causing the bag to sag slightly but not enough to compromise its utility. Crude, but effective. The lack of stitching made the bag feel more organic, almost like something that had been grown rather than crafted. He didn¡¯t care how it looked or felt¡ªonly that it served its purpose. And for now, it did. Satisfied, Ezren adjusted his grip on the straps, feeling the faint give of the skin as he lifted the bag. It would do. He meditates before going outside. He opens the portal and head out. The plague village awaited. Moments later, the scout bird returned. It flew in circles above Ezren before darting southward, repeating the motion until Ezren understood. The village lay a six-hour walk to the southwest. Now, he knew his path. He asks the bird if there¡¯s large animal on the way. And the bird nodded. So he told the bird to point him to the creature he saw. Killing 2 bird with 1 stone. Hunting creature on the way to the village Ezren followed as it guided him to the boar¡¯s location, not far from his route. A smirk curled on Ezren¡¯s lips. He adjusted the straps of his shoulder belt and made his way toward the creature¡¯s location. Upon arrival, he observed the beast grazing among the underbrush. Ezren gave a simple command to his wolves: "Kill it." The undead wolves sprang into action, closing the distance in seconds. The first wolf lunged, aiming for the boar''s throat, but the beast reacted swiftly, slamming its tusks into the wolf¡¯s ribcage. Bone cracked, but the undead did not falter. The second wolf took advantage of the distraction, darting behind the boar and sinking its teeth deep into its hind leg. The boar bellowed in fury, thrashing to shake its attacker off, but the undead¡¯s grip was unyielding. With a savage twist, the first wolf clamped its rotting jaws around the boar¡¯s throat, dragging it down. The beast convulsed, kicking wildly, but its movements weakened as blood gushed from the gaping wound. A final, strained breath escaped its nostrils before it lay still. Ezren wasted no time. "Drag it back to the portal." As the wolves obeyed, then Ezren goes in the portal, Graos emerged, he told Analyze it, then butcher it. After Graos analyze it and provided his assessment, he skinned the boar, carefully preserving the hide before butchering the meat. Then Ezren took a kilo for himself and stored the rest. Now it was time to eat. Finding a suitable spot, he gathered dry wood and ignited a fire. The scent of sizzling boar meat filled the air as he cooked. He was halfway through his meal when a familiar sensation crept into his mind¡ªan alert from his undead birds. Something was coming. Ezren calmly set down his food. Five wild wolves stalked from the treeline, fangs bared and eyes locked onto him. "Distract one," Ezren commanded. The undead bird dove, harrying a wolf with sharp pecks and erratic swerves. "Attack," he snapped at his wolves. The two undead beasts surged forward, crashing into the pack with ruthless efficiency. They moved without hesitation or fear, lunging and snapping with unnatural precision. Ezren didn''t waste time. His will surged into the bone spikes within his tote bag, and with a flick of his wrist, he launched them toward the wild wolves. The air hummed as the spikes tore through flesh, piercing two wolves in an instant. One wolf tried to lunge at his undead, but a spike slammed into its skull before it could bite. Another spike buried itself into the flank of a wolf trying to flank his undead wolves. Blood sprayed, the beast crumpling with a strangled yelp. In seconds, four wolves lay dead, their bodies crumpled and bleeding. Ezren turned just in time to see the last wolf¡ªa fierce survivor that had swatted his bird from the air¡ªcharging toward him. Its eyes gleamed with desperate fury. Ezren reacted a moment too late. The last wolf lunged at him, jaws snapping down on his left arm. Pain flared as sharp fangs pierced through his sleeve, claws raking across his skin. Snarling, Ezren gripped the dagger from his belt with his free hand and drove it into the wolf¡¯s neck. Hot blood gushed over his fingers as the beast choked and collapsed, its weight falling limp against him. ¡°Blackblood.¡± Ezren¡¯s voice was tight, but focused. Dark mana surged through his veins, tendrils of shadow weaving into torn flesh and sealing the wounds. The pain faded as his arm knitted back together, whole once more. The technique drained 10% of his mana, but the injury was gone. He rolled his shoulder to test it, satisfied. ¡°Drag the corpses back to the portal,¡± he commanded his undead wolves. They obeyed without hesitation, jaws clamping down on the fresh kills. Ezren wiped the blood from his dagger, sat back down, and resumed his meal as if nothing had happened. Once finished, he rose and continued south. By the time he reached the village, the sun hung low in the sky. The plague-ridden settlement lay before him, silent and foreboding. He stepped forward, ready to see what awaited him inside. Chapter 9: Plague Village Chapter 9: Plague Village The sun still hung over the horizon when Ezren reached the abandoned village. The air was thick with the lingering scent of decay, but time had lessened the stench of disease. Empty homes stood in eerie silence, their doors hanging open like gaping mouths. Wasting no time, Ezren moved from house to house, collecting everything of use. Wooden tables and benches, sturdy enough to repurpose. Wicker baskets and wooden chests, perfect for storage. Cooking pots, wooden utensils, plates, bowls, and cups¡ªall gathered and stored within his portal. A mortar and pestle, useful for grinding herbs, joined his collection. In one of the larger houses, he found four intact barrels and six wooden boxes. He took them all and put it in the portal. Once satisfied, he turned his attention to the cemetery. Every settlement had a place where the bodies of the fallen were put to rest. Ezren followed the charred scent that still clung to the wind, leading him to a makeshift cremation site. Piles of blackened ash and half-burnt bones littered the ground, remnants of a desperate attempt to halt the spread of disease. He knelt, sifting through the brittle remains, searching for anything still intact. ¡°No bodies¡­¡± he muttered, disappointed. But the bones would suffice. He gathered as many intact bones as he could, depositing them into the portal. Some were brittle, but others were still usable. By the time he finished, the sky was beginning to darken. As night approached, Ezren searched for shelter. He recalled a house where a hidden hole had been carved into the ground¡ªa crude, makeshift cellar barely large enough to conceal a single person. Likely a desperate attempt by one of the villagers to hide from something¡­ or someone. He stepped inside the dim interior, brushed aside the loose wooden planks covering the hole, and examined it. Empty. The perfect place to rest. With a quiet exhale, he activated the portal, slipping inside. The fleshy, pulsating chamber embraced him with its familiar silence. He set aside his gathered supplies, lay back, and allowed himself a few hours of sleep. When he awoke, the village remained silent. Ezren stepped out of the portal; his body refreshed. He crouched within the small hidey-hole, listening to the wind whistling through the hollow remains of the village. Then¡ªhe heard voices. Ezren¡¯s body went still. He pressed himself lower into the dark recess, steadying his breath. The voices were distant but growing closer. Footsteps echoed between the ruined buildings, breaking the dead village¡¯s silence. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. Someone had arrived.
Soldiers Investigate the Village The heavy clatter of boots echoed through the desolate village as the patrol advanced. Their armor gleamed faintly under the fading sunlight, the weight of their weapons shifting with every cautious step. A gruff soldier kicked open a door, glancing inside the hollow remains of a home. ¡°Empty. Again.¡± He sighed, stepping back onto the dirt road. ¡°I don¡¯t get it. Why are we combing this place again? This is the second time we¡¯ve been sent here.¡± Another soldier, a younger man with an impatient scowl, snorted. ¡°Because some highborn idiot in the capital wants to make sure we didn¡¯t ¡®miss anything.¡¯¡± He spat onto the ground. ¡°We already found and killed the damn warlock. There¡¯s nothing left.¡± A third soldier, older and leaning against his spear, grumbled, ¡°If you ask me, this was never dark magic to begin with. Plague like this¡ªit spreads through filth, through bad water, not some damn sorcery.¡± The commander, a hardened man with a scar across his cheek, turned toward them with a sharp glare. ¡°We do as we¡¯re ordered. Whether you think it¡¯s sorcery or not isn¡¯t our concern.¡± The gruff soldier sighed and nudged a pile of bones with his boot. ¡°Ain¡¯t it strange, though? The inquisitors stormed in, killed some poor bastard they called a warlock, and the plague still killed everyone anyway.¡± ¡°Maybe because it was just a plague,¡± the younger soldier muttered. ¡°Cholera. Hits fast. Fever, vomiting, shitting yourself to death¡ªdoesn¡¯t need magic to kill a village.¡± The older soldier shook his head. ¡°Then we wasted our damn time. We dragged some poor soul to the pyre and called it justice.¡± A silence settled over the group. The commander exhaled sharply. ¡°Enough. Check the houses. We report back at sundown.¡± One by one, the soldiers dispersed, searching through what remained of the village¡ªunaware that something else lurked in the shadows, watching.
Huddled in the dark recess of the cellar, Ezren listened. The soldiers¡¯ voices drifted through the broken village, casual, indifferent. "Pointless, this is the second time we¡¯ve checked this place." "Told you, the warlock¡¯s dead. The inquisitors saw to that." "Then why are we wasting time?" "Because the higher-ups don¡¯t trust their own judgment. ¡®Make sure no dark arts linger,¡¯ they say. Bah, it was just the plague. Nothing unnatural about it." "Cholera. Filthy water, rotten food¡ªit wiped them out before we even got here." "And yet they still burned the bodies, just in case." So that was it. Orin¡¯s death¡ªhis master¡¯s sacrifice¡ªreduced to an afterthought. A minor task in the daily routine of soldiers who didn¡¯t care. The village hadn¡¯t been cursed. Yet The people needed someone to blame. A warlock was the perfect scapegoat. Fear demanded an enemy, and the Inquisition provided one. The people, desperate and dying, clung to any explanation that gave them control over their suffering. It wasn¡¯t just sickness¡ªit couldn¡¯t be. No, something had to be behind it, something unnatural, something they could point there anger. Orin and his master had simply been convenient. Ezren exhaled, quiet and slow. He understood now¡ªthis was how the world worked. Truth didn¡¯t matter, only the story that people chose to believe. And in the end, Orin and his master had been nothing more than a story to them. He pressed himself further into the shadows. Let them finish their investigation. Let them leave. The dead didn¡¯t argue with the living. chapter 10: My First Chimera So, Erzen after hearing the soldier¡¯s story open the portal. Nothing he can do there or if he meditates in there, they might find the cellar. So, he goes to the portal Ezren returned to the portal chamber, the scent of death and dark mana clinging to him like a second skin. Before him lay the corpses of seven wild wolves, dragged here by his undead servants. Their bodies were broken and bloodied, but their essence was ripe for forging. Ezren turned to his two undead wolves and bird. "Stay." Then he tries the siphon technique to the undead. Draining dark mana out of the body and the creatures collapsed to the ground, their bodies lifeless and unmoving. Ezren¡¯s mana no longer animated them; they were nothing more than hollow shells. As well as cancel the branding. And also try it to the new corpse he killed. Then he called Graos. The Forge responded immediately. Tendrils of flesh emerged from the floor, writhing in anticipation. "What is your command?" Graos asked, voice echoing from the organic walls. "Fix their pelts and skin them. All of them," Ezren ordered, gesturing to the seven wolf corpses, including his two previous undead wolves. After Graos skinned the wolves, Ezren¡¯s eyes lingered on the wolf corpses, his mind already piecing together his next creation. ¡°Graos,¡± he commanded, his voice steady. ¡°Make the wolf greater. Use the remains of the others as material.¡± Graos responded immediately, its tendrils coiling around the three wolf corpses and dragging them into the churning depths of the Sinew Pool. The dark, viscous substance rippled and bubbled, threads of sinew reaching upward like grasping roots. ¡°To create something greater, I must draw from you,¡± Graos rumbled, its voice echoing within the chamber. Ezren felt the sudden pull of mana, his reserves draining as Graos siphoned off thirty percent of his power. His chest tightened at the sensation, but he remained still, eyes focused on the transformation before him. The Sinew Pool seethed as Graos began its work. The bones of all three wolves were broken down, reduced to their raw essence before being reformed within the pool¡¯s depths. Fragments twisted and intertwined, merging into a new, larger structure. Graos shaped the bones with meticulous precision, lengthening and thickening the wolf¡¯s frame. The spine grew broader and stronger, reinforced by additional ribs and vertebrae harvested from the remains. Leg bones were fused and reshaped, granting the creature greater height and power. Claws were sharpened to razor-like edges, designed for both tearing and rending. The skull was altered, jaws elongated and strengthened to deliver more lethal bites. Once the skeletal structure was complete, Graos began molding flesh over the newly crafted frame. The flesh of the three wolves was broken down and fused, muscles coiling around bone like living cords. Tendons and sinew stitched themselves together under Graos¡¯s guidance, dark mana binding them with unnatural precision. The Dire Wolf¡¯s body grew larger, broader, its muscles rippling with strength. Its hide thickened, reinforced with layers of muscle and sinew that granted both power and resilience. The creature emerged from the Sinew Pool, water and blood dripping from its newly-formed body. It stood at a height of nearly six feet, its frame more powerful and imposing than any natural wolf. Graos¡¯s tendrils receded, the forge¡¯s presence easing back as the task was completed. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°It is done,¡± Graos intoned. ¡°The wolf has been reforged into something greater. A Dire Wolf.¡± Ezren nodded, his gaze fixed on the beast. The process had gone exactly as he envisioned, his mana well spent in pursuit of a more formidable servant. ¡°Now¡­¡± Ezren¡¯s eyes gleamed with anticipation. ¡°Let¡¯s make it even better.¡± Ezren gazed at the newly forged Dire Wolf, its massive body lying still within the Sinew Pool. But it wasn¡¯t complete¡ªthere was more to be added, enhancements to push the creature beyond its natural limits. ¡°Graos,¡± Ezren spoke, his voice steady, ¡°I want it stronger. Use the traits of the smaller creatures.¡± Graos responded with immediate obedience. Tendrils emerged from the Sinew Pool, snatching the corpses of the frog, snake, turtle, and rabbit Ezren had collected. They were dragged into the bubbling depths, submerged in the darkened mixture of blood and sinew. ¡°I¡¯ve already analyzed their essence before, their traits are stored within me,¡± Graos said, its voice thick with anticipation. ¡°Good. Then use their traits to enhance the Dire Wolf,¡± Ezren commanded. ¡°The frog¡¯s leg muscles¡ªgive the wolf speed and explosive strength. The bird¡¯s bones and eyesight¡ªmake them lighter, enhancing speed, agility, and visual acuity. The rabbit¡¯s heightened senses¡ªenhance its hearing and scent detection. The turtle¡¯s skin¡ªreinforce the wolf¡¯s hide, adding armor over vulnerable parts without sacrificing speed. As for the snakes¡ªadd them to the upper back, hollow out its stomach to allow the serpents to retract and strike.¡± ¡°Understood.¡± Graos drew another 50% of Ezren¡¯s mana to begin the refinement. Within the Sinew Pool, bone shards twisted and melded. Four new skeletal structures took form, designed to anchor the snake appendages securely to the Dire Wolf¡¯s back. Hollowed cavities were carved within the wolf¡¯s body, a network of retractable passages fitted with bone sockets for the serpents to emerge and withdraw. Muscle tissue was molded with dark precision, sinew coiling and weaving itself like threads guided by unseen hands. Tendons snapped into place, fibers strengthening the legs with the frog¡¯s explosive power. Bird bones were interwoven with the wolf¡¯s existing structure, lightening its frame while enhancing durability. When it emerged, the Dire Wolf Chimera was a grotesque marvel. Its eyes gleamed with sharpened clarity. Serpents lurked beneath the surface of its skin, emerging like living tendrils. Its hide bore patches of thick, armored plating where the turtle¡¯s resilience had been fused. Graos¡¯s tendrils finally withdrew. ¡°It is done. The Dire Wolf Chimera has been enhanced.¡± Ezren gazed upon the beast, a masterpiece of fused flesh and dark mana. ¡°What now, Master?¡± Graos asked. Ezren¡¯s expression remained unreadable. ¡°Now¡­ we awaken it.¡±
Dire Wolf chimera Chapter 11: The Hunt and the Grave Chapter 11: The Hunt and the Grave Exhausted from the process, Ezren sat and meditated, focusing on restoring his mana. The familiar rhythm of dark energy pulsed through him as he recovered. Two hours passed before he regained his full reserves. With renewed energy, he turned his attention back to the chimera. He gathered dark mana into his palms, forming two overlapping magic circles. Casting Reanimation, the corpse twitched and stirred, its limbs jerking with unnatural life. Without hesitation, Ezren followed with Branding, locking the creature¡¯s obedience to his will. Ezren rose to his feet, eyeing the dire wolf chimera as it shifted restlessly, its sturdy frame resting in a corner of the chamber. The creature¡¯s snake appendages¡ªfour of them, each extending from its upper back¡ªwrithed and flicked with unsettling vitality. Their scaled lengths twisted and coiled like living whips, testing the air with sharp, twitching motions. The wolf¡¯s muscular legs coiled with a twitching tension that promised devastating speed, every movement precise and coiled with lethal intent. ¡°Forty percent lock... Ridiculous.¡± Ezren muttered, running a hand through his hair. That left him with only sixty percent of his mana to work with. He still had ten bone spikes that needed Branding. Perhaps it was time to refine his control¡ªmaster the art of throwing daggers and master the manipulation of bone spikes with precision. He smirked, eyes narrowing with determination. Ezren left the portal chamber and emerged into the cellar. It was early afternoon¡ªabout 2 PM, judging by the dim light filtering through the cracks above. There were no more soldiers investigating. Stepping out of the house, he opened the portal and commanded the chimera to hunt and return with its spoils. The beast bolted into the forest, leaving a trail of dust swirling in its wake. Ezren blinked, momentarily stunned. What the hell did I just unleash? Hunger twisted his stomach. He hadn¡¯t eaten since the night before. While the chimera hunted, he cooked the remaining boar meat over a crude fire. Minutes later, the beast returned, dragging four creatures¡ªa rabbit, a frog, and two foxes¡ªby the necks. Its snake appendages had killed the smaller animals cleanly, while the foxes bore torn flesh where claws had raked them. The chimera dashed off again, leaving a gust of dust. Ezren frowned. ¡°I need to establish a designated drop-off point. All this dust clinging to me.¡± He ate quickly and sent a command to the chimera, instructing it to drop its kills near a house three buildings away from his own temporary residence. Then, he sat down and began meditating, using the Graveyard Absorption technique to harvest the lingering death energy saturating the plague-stricken village. The suffering of the dead clung thick in the air¡ªan abundant, untapped resource. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Over the next two days, Ezren repeated the cycle. Meditate. Absorb dark mana. Order the chimera to hunt and bring back its prey. Graos skinned the animals and crafted wolf pelts, while Ezren ferried the carcasses back to the portal chamber. The chimera¡¯s brutality was staggering¡ªits kills were numerous and efficient. Foxes, wolves, rabbits, snakes, elk, frogs, boars¡ªthe beast brought them all. The smaller creatures were often killed by the snake tendrils, their necks crushed or twisted. Larger creatures bore savage wounds¡ªlimbs torn, bodies shredded. But Ezren knew Graos could restore the mangled flesh with mana. He tallied the chimera¡¯s harvest: fifteen rabbits, twenty wolves, ten foxes, thirty frogs, five snakes, ten boars, and twenty two elk. The forest¡¯s ecosystem was collapsing under the onslaught. Ezren stared at the piles of bodies, his expression torn between awe and unease. ¡°I¡¯ve created a monster.¡± Yet, the materials he had gathered were valuable beyond measure. His efforts bore fruit. Through continuous meditation and harvesting dark mana, his mana pool expanded by ten percent. On the third day, Ezren gathered vines and sticks, fashioning a crude backpack for the pelts. He bundled two wolf pelts and one elk pelts, intending to sell them in town. he left it for now inside the portal, its 8hr walk. The rest he left near the portal chamber for later use. Satisfied with his preparations, he called for Graos. The creature emerged from the floor, its insectoid limbs twitching in anticipation. ¡°I need to alter my facial structure. How do I do it?¡± Ezren asked, folding his arms. Graos¡¯s hollow sockets regarded him with cold calculation. ¡°Facial restructuring is possible. Dark mana can weave into muscle and bone, shifting form within set constraints. Full transformation requires extensive mana input. Minor alterations¡ªcheekbones, jawline, brow structure¡ªare efficient.¡± ¡°Teach me.¡± Graos raised a clawed limb, tendrils twitching as dark mana coiled at the tips before stabbing into Ezren¡¯s face. Ezren felt his mana being siphoned away, the sensation both draining and invigorating. ¡°Channel dark mana into the dermis, allowing gradual displacement of tissue. Control is key¡ªwithout focus, features will distort.¡± Ezren followed Graos¡¯s instructions, pushing dark mana into his face. A strange sensation washed over him, like molten wax reshaping beneath his skin. He felt his bones subtly shift, his muscles tighten, and his skin stretch in controlled increments. The pain was minimal, more of an eerie numbness. He turned to his reflection in a pool of water nearby. The face staring back was different¡ªhis nose sharper, cheekbones more pronounced, eyes slightly narrower. A stranger¡¯s face. A smirk played at his lips. ¡°This will do.¡± Graos observed in silence before retreating into the shadows, vanishing into the portal¡¯s depths. The floor solidified once more. Ezren exhaled, rolling his shoulders. His disguise was complete. With his preparations finished, he set his sights on the town. It was time to see what awaited him there. Chapter 12: the town of glowdale Chapter 12: the town of glowdale "He left the village behind, beginning his eight-hour journey on foot toward town. The road stretched endlessly before him, and as the hours passed, the town slowly began to take shape on the horizon. At first, it was just a silhouette, but as he walked closer, the details became clearer. The outline of wooden buildings emerged against the backdrop of rolling hills, smoke curling lazily from chimneys into the sky. The sight of the town filled him with a quiet sense of relief, a distant memory of what it felt like to see structures standing tall and sturdy once again. It was a sight of civilization at last, standing still against the vast open world. He paused for a moment, taking in the view, a slight smile tugging at his lips. Finally, he was close to the familiar hum of life once more." "Before stepping closer, he opened the portal, summoning the Chimera to enter. With the bundled pelts retrieved and everything in place, he continued his approach, ready to step back into the world he had left behind." "The town¡¯s entrance was guarded, with a line of travelers waiting for inspection. Ezren walked forward, drawing the attention of one of the guards. The man¡¯s gaze swept over him, taking in the tattered, dirt-streaked clothing and his overall disheveled state. He then gave Ezren a pointed look, his eyes narrowing as he stepped forward, clearly checking for signs of illness. The plague had made the guards wary of anyone who might be carrying sickness." "Halt." The guard raised a hand. "Where are you coming from?" Ezren stopped a few paces away, adjusting the pelts over his shoulder. "From the woods. I was hunting." The guard narrowed his eyes. "Hunting? Looking like that? You look like you crawled out of a grave." Ezren gave a faint shrug. "Got caught in a mudslide a few days ago. Took me a while to dig myself out." The guard glanced at his companion, who gave him an uncertain look. "You got a name?" "Ezren, sir." "And you''re carrying?" "Pelts. Elk and wolfs. Planning to sell them, sir." The guard glanced at the bundled pelts and then at Ezren again. "Entry toll is five coppers. You got coin?" Ezren patted his belt pouch, then shook his head. "Not on me, but I can sell a pelt to cover it." The guard considered this for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. Hand over one of the smaller ones." Ezren unrolled one of the wolf pelts and passed it to the guard, who inspected it briefly before looking up at him again. "Alright, but before you go, step back a moment." Ezren raised an eyebrow, but the guard motioned for him to comply. With a brief sigh, Ezren stepped back. The guard nodded to his companion, who stepped forward with a simple wooden rod, its tip dipped in a fragrant mixture of herbs. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. "We¡¯ve been dealing with some illness among travelers," the guard said, his tone steady but cautious. "Just a precaution¡ªhold still." Ezren felt the cool touch of the rod as the guard waved it lightly near his face and neck, checking for any signs of fever or distress. The smell of the herbs was sharp, almost bitter, but it seemed to ease the guard¡¯s nerves as he observed carefully. The guard leaned in a little closer, scrutinizing Ezren¡¯s eyes and skin, looking for any signs of pallor or sweating. After a moment, he pulled back and sniffed the air around him. "You seem fine," the guard said, nodding as he returned the rod to his belt. "No sign of sickness, but it¡¯s best to be cautious. Keep an eye out for symptoms, and don¡¯t go spreading anything if you start feeling ill." Ezren gave a brief nod, relieved it hadn¡¯t turned into a more involved inspection. The guard handed him back the pelts with a quick, professional nod. "Fair trade," the guard said. "Next time, bring some coin." Ezren nodded again, stepping past the checkpoint and into the town. Civilization welcomed him back, but for how long? Ezren entered the town, his boots stirring up dust as he stepped past the wooden gates. The streets bustled with merchants, travelers, and common folk going about their business, but he had no idea where to go. Near the entrance, a scruffy beggar boy sat on the edge of a barrel, nibbling on a stale piece of bread. His ribs were visible beneath his tattered tunic, and his hair was a tangled mess. Ezren walked up to him and crouched down. "Kid, do you want to earn some money?" The boy stopped chewing and looked up, his wary eyes flickering with interest. "Depends. What do ya need?" "A guide. Take me around town, show me where to sell some pelts, and answer a few questions. I''ll pay you when the job¡¯s done." The boy grinned, shoving the rest of the bread into his mouth. "Easy work. I''m your guy. Name''s Tobin." He held out a grimy hand. Ezren didn''t shake it. "Lead the way." Tobin shrugged and motioned for Ezren to follow. They weaved through the crowded streets, past stalls selling fresh produce, dried herbs, and cheap trinkets. As they walked, Ezren spoke. "What''s the latest news?" Tobin smirked. "You ain''t from around here, huh? Alright, let¡¯s see... The biggest news? A new portal showed up in a mine near the border of a neighboring kingdom. Ain''t like the old ones either¡ªthis one''s fresh, untouched, and full of who-knows-what. The kingdom to the south¡ªKing Varkas¡¯ lot¡ªclaimed it as theirs, said the land belongs to them now. But the kingdom to the north¡ªKing Halvorn¡¯s people¡ªaren''t havin'' it. Now they¡¯re sendin'' soldiers to take it by force. Just like that¡ªboom, war." Ezren frowned. "They''re fighting over a portal?" Tobin scoffed. "Course they are. Dungeon portals ain''t just holes full of monsters¡ªthey change the land around ''em. And this one''s inside a mine. Give it time, and the minerals, the stone, maybe even the air down there could turn into somethin¡¯ else. Something valuable. Plus, you got all the stuff that comes outta the dungeon itself¡ªrare beasts, magic loot, who knows what else. No way a kingdom''s just gonna sit back and let the other take it." Ezren absorbed the information. "So they''re risking a war over a gamble." "Sounds dumb, right? But if that mine turns into a gold pit of magic ore or somethin¡¯ crazy, whoever owns it wins big." Ezren frowned. "And here?" "The plague''s slowin¡¯ down, thank the gods. People say some great healer showed up, fixin¡¯ folk like magic. Dunno who she is, but if she''s real, she''s got the whole town talkin¡¯." Ezren absorbed the information. "Anything else?" Tobin chuckled. "Plenty of gossip if you like that sort of thing. The mayor¡¯s daughter was seen sneakin¡¯ off with a knight¡ªreal scandal, since she¡¯s supposed to marry some rich merchant. Oh! And get this¡ªcouple days back, folks say a dark mage got caught and killed. The church took his body. Stuck it in the crypt beneath the cathedral." Ezren¡¯s steps slowed. "The church?" "Yeah. Thought they¡¯d burn him like usual, but nah. Some priest insisted he be kept there. Maybe they¡¯re scared his magic ain¡¯t done with him yet. Or maybe they wanna study him¡ªwho knows what those robed lot are thinkin¡¯?" Ezren kept his face unreadable, though his mind raced. That had to be Orin¡¯s master. But why would the church preserve his body instead of destroying it? chapter 13: Merchant. Ezren kept his face unreadable, though his mind raced. That had to be Orin¡¯s master. But why would the church preserve his body instead of destroying it? Tobin led Ezren through the winding streets, eventually arriving at a small shop adorned with stacked leather rolls outside. The scent of tanned hides and animal fat filled the air, mixing with the rich, earthy aroma of the town''s daily bustle. Inside, a heavyset man with a graying beard sat behind a counter, inspecting a cured hide with practiced hands. His sharp eyes flicked up as they entered. "Well now, what do we have here?" the merchant rumbled, setting the hide aside. "Lookin¡¯ to buy or sell?" ¡°Sell,¡± Ezren replied, unfastening the bundle from his back. He carefully laid the pelts on the counter, unfurling them one by one. The merchant¡¯s brows lifted as he ran his fingers over the fur. ¡°Hells,¡± the man muttered, pulling one closer. ¡°Ain¡¯t seen skins this clean in a while. No ragged edges, no wasted fur¡ªskinned by a master.¡± His gaze flicked up to Ezren, suspicion flickering in his eyes. ¡°You do this work yourself?¡± Ezren gave a simple nod. The merchant grunted and turned his attention back to the pelts. ¡°Wolf pelts go for two to five silver, elk for three to six, dependin'' on quality.¡± He stroked his beard thoughtfully. ¡°These are top-notch, I¡¯ll give you five per wolf and seven per elk.¡± Ezren crossed his arms, unimpressed. ¡°Six per wolf, eight per elk. You just said these were the best you¡¯ve seen in a while.¡± The merchant snorted and tapped a finger against his chin. ¡°Best don¡¯t mean I¡¯ll go broke payin¡¯ for ''em.¡± ¡°They¡¯ll fetch more once you work them into fine leather. No nicks, no wasted scraps¡ªyou¡¯ll barely lose anything in the process. Less work for you, higher profit.¡± Ezren¡¯s tone was calm but firm. The merchant eyed him, then the pelts, then sighed, clearly weighing his options. ¡°You drive a hard bargain, stranger.¡± He tapped his fingers on the counter, considering. Finally, he nodded reluctantly. ¡°Six for the wolf, eight for the elk. But don¡¯t expect this kind of deal every time.¡± Ezren gave a small nod, the deal settled. ¡°Fair enough.¡± The merchant counted out the silver coins, sliding them across the counter with a grunt of approval. Then, with a grunt, he reached under the counter and pulled out an old, weathered coin pouch. He slid it toward Ezren. ¡°You might find a few more coins in there than you expected. A bit of a bonus for the fine work.¡± Ezren¡¯s fingers brushed the worn fabric of the pouch before he picked it up, his expression neutral. He gave the merchant a sharp nod of acknowledgment. ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to take good care of those as well.¡± ¡°Ezren hesitated for a moment, then spoke again. ¡°if you want more of the wolf pelts i can sell you more. but first, i''ll need to borrow a room with a door for a few minutes." If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. The merchant paused, raising an eyebrow. ¡°A room? For what?¡± Ezren''s gaze hardened slightly, though his tone remained calm. ¡°Just something I need to take care of. It¡¯ll be quick. I¡¯ll pay for the use of the space.¡± The merchant leaned back, studying Ezren with a calculating look. ¡°I¡¯ll have to ask again¡ªwhat exactly do you need a room for?¡± Ezren¡¯s gaze didn''t falter, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. ¡°I have my reasons. I won¡¯t be long.¡± The merchant eyed him for a long moment before nodding slowly. ¡°All right, all right. Back through the shop to the small room in the back. But no funny business.¡± Ezren gave a brief, respectful nod. ¡°Of course.¡± As the merchant turned to lead the way, Ezren reached into his robe and activated the Mark of Orias, a dark and twisting symbol that flared on his palm. The air around him shifted as he focused his power. The swirling energies of his portal opened before him with a subtle hum, a rift crackling with dark mana. He stepped through, entering a shadowed space where he could work undisturbed. Once inside, Ezren began to carry the wolf hides Graos had made, one by one, into the room. The pelts were heavy, but Ezren handled them with ease, moving them from the portal to the room. Thirty wolf pelts in total, each one perfectly preserved, filled the space in a neat pile. The room smelled faintly of the fresh hides, rich with the scent of nature. Once the last of the pelts had been carried inside, Ezren closed the portal with a gesture, ensuring the room remained undisturbed. He took a moment to organize the hides before calling to the merchant. The door creaked open, and the merchant stepped inside, his eyes widening as he surveyed the room. ¡°What in the gods'' names is all this?¡± Ezren spoke, his voice calm but firm. ¡°I expect a better price for these wolf hides. They¡¯re... a special batch.¡± The merchant¡¯s eyes widened as he took in the sheer number of pelts stacked neatly in the room. His jaw dropped slightly, and he took a step back. ¡°This... this many? I might not have enough gold for all of this.¡± Ezren raised an eyebrow. ¡°So how much can you give me?¡± The merchant hesitated for a moment before replying, ¡°I only have ten gold coins... max.¡± Ezren¡¯s gaze sharpened. ¡°It should be twelve gold and twelve silver. How about ten gold coins, and the rest in items from your store¡ªlet''s say, two gold and twelve silver worth of goods?¡± The merchant considered the offer for a long moment, then nodded reluctantly. ¡°Alright, it¡¯s a deal. But I¡¯m not going any higher.¡± Ezren gave a small, approving nod. ¡°Good.¡± With the agreement made, Ezren walked around the store, inspecting the items. After a quick search, he picked out several pieces that matched the value. He selected a Leather Vest with Pauldrons for 20 silver, an Assassin Dagger Holster Belt for 15 silver, gloves for 3 silver, boots for 5 silver, 6-use sacks used in grains(1 silver for 6), and a Burlap Rucksack for 16 silver. Ezren laid the selected items on the counter, and the merchant looked over them, nodding in agreement. After a moment, he reached into his pouch and handed over 10 gold coins to Ezren. As he slid the gold across the counter, the merchant leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. ¡°How did you do that? Are you a mage?¡± Ezren didn¡¯t even glance up, maintaining his calm composure. He gave a small shrug, keeping his voice casual. ¡°I have an item with spatial storage,¡± he said, offering a simple explanation. The merchant paused, considering the response for a moment. He then nodded, as if accepting the logic. ¡°Alright... well, if you¡¯ve got more hides, don¡¯t hesitate to come back. I¡¯ll be more than happy to deal with you.¡± Ezren gave a slight nod, a faint smile on his lips, and turned to leave. As he stepped out of the store and onto the street, he saw Tobin approaching, a grin spreading across his face. ¡°So, where¡¯s next, boss?¡± ezren earn 10 gold coin and 15 silver. Chapter 14: Mercenary guild Chapter 14: Mercenary Guild As they continued through the bustling streets, Ezren turned to Tobin. "Is there a guild in town?" Tobin nodded, his pace steady as they weaved through the crowd. "Yeah, we''ve got a Mercenary Guild here. It¡¯s where folks go to hire swords for protection, escort caravans, or handle dangerous tasks. If you¡¯re lookin'' for work or need some muscle, that¡¯s the place to check out." Ezren¡¯s thoughts raced. Mercenary guilds were centralized hubs for hiring skilled warriors, providing structured environments for finding employment and taking on jobs. He knew it could be useful, not just for work, but to gather intel on the town and the surrounding area. ¡°How does one join the Mercenary Guild here?¡± Ezren asked as they navigated the busy streets. Tobin scratched his head, thoughtful. ¡°Joining''s easy enough. You head to the guildhall, fill out some forms, pay a membership fee. But they¡¯ll probably want to see what you''re made of. A little test, maybe. After that, you¡¯ll be bound by their rules. They¡¯ll give you jobs and assignments. You might get some better pay, and if you show some skill, you¡¯ll have access to better gigs.¡± Ezren considered the idea. "Think they¡¯ll be interested in someone like me?" Tobin looked him over, the skepticism clear in his eyes. ¡°Could be. You¡¯ve got the right... look about you. Could be a good way to earn some coin, especially if you know how to handle yourself.¡± Ezren gave a curt nod, the thought of the guild weighing in his mind. There could be value in joining, both for work and for gathering information. Tobin led him to the outskirts of town, toward the Mercenary Guild. It stood in stark contrast to the rest of the town¡ªa fortress-like structure repurposed from a former barracks. Its high stone walls were reinforced with wooden watchtowers and a sturdy palisade fence. Above the entrance, a large iron sigil of a wolf¡¯s fang hung, marking it as the home of hardened fighters for hire. The smell of sweat, leather, and steel seemed to emanate from the very walls. Ezren entered The Iron Fang Guild¡¯s dimly lit hall, the air thick with smoke and the scent of old wood. A grizzled man sat behind a sturdy desk, his face marked by a scar running down his left cheek. He looked up as Ezren approached, his eyes hard and piercing. "Looking to join?" The guildmaster''s voice was rough, like gravel grinding beneath a boot. Ezren met his gaze. "Yes. I¡¯m interested in becoming a member of the Mercenary Guild." The guildmaster''s eyes narrowed as he took in Ezren¡¯s appearance¡ªthe dirt-streaked robes and the faint, unsettling aura that seemed to cling to him. His voice was a low growl. ¡°Joining, huh? You sure you walked through the right door? You look more like you crawled out of a ditch than a battlefield.¡± Ezren stood unfazed, his gaze unbroken. ¡°Appearances can be deceiving. I¡¯m here to join, not to be coddled.¡± The guildmaster snorted, leaning back in his chair. ¡°Plenty of folk come in here with more bark than bite. But if you¡¯ve got the coin and the steel to back it up, we might have room for you. Got any experience, or you just lookin¡¯ to get yourself killed?¡± Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Experience enough,¡± Ezren replied coolly. ¡°And I can handle myself. If you¡¯ve got a test, I¡¯ll take it.¡± The guildmaster¡¯s lips twitched¡ªhalf smirk, half sneer. ¡°Cocky. I¡¯ll give you that. Alright, if you¡¯re dead set on it, we¡¯ve got a trial. Prove you¡¯re worth more than the dirt on your boots, and we¡¯ll talk membership.¡± He pulled out a thick, leather-bound ledger from beneath the counter and flipped through the worn pages with a practiced hand. His finger stopped on a page marked with fresh ink. ¡°Three contracts up for grabs,¡± he said, sliding the ledger across the counter. "Take your pick." Ezren skimmed the entries: Goblin Scouting: Reports of goblins raiding livestock near the northern woods. Request to assess their numbers and, if possible, thin them out. Herb Gathering: Collection of medicinal herbs from the southern forest. Locals are too scared to go near, what with rumors of plague still hanging over the area. Bounty: A wanted man named Garret Hask. Suspected of theft and assault. Last seen heading toward the marshes. Reward higher than the rest. Ezren¡¯s finger hovered over the last contract for a moment before sliding back to the first. ¡°I¡¯ll take the goblin scouting. Shouldn¡¯t be difficult.¡± The guildmaster grunted. ¡°Goblins, huh? Figured you¡¯d go for something easier, but I suppose you¡¯re out to prove yourself.¡± He scratched at his scarred cheek. ¡°Fine. Payment depends on what you bring back¡ªscalps, ears, or even heads if you¡¯re feeling ambitious. But we¡¯ll need a proper report on their numbers and locations. Think you can handle that?¡± Ezren nodded. ¡°Consider it done.¡± The guildmaster¡¯s hard expression softened slightly, a glint of interest sparking in his eyes. ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡± Ezren turned to Tobin, who had been waiting nearby, and called out, ¡°Tobin, I¡¯ll need you to take me to the cloth market. I¡¯m in need of new clothes.¡± Tobin raised an eyebrow at Ezren¡¯s state¡ªdirt-streaked robes, scuffed boots, and a general look that could easily fool anyone into thinking he was a beggar. But instead of commenting, he simply nodded and led the way. They soon arrived at a small but bustling market near the town square. Several clothiers had set up booths, calling out their wares to the crowds. The air smelled of fresh linen, and the sound of haggling echoed in the distance. Ezren stepped into one of the shops, where bolts of fabric in various colors and textures lined the walls. He picked out a set of sturdy cotton tunics, roughspun trousers, a pair of comfortable shorts, a simple cloak, and undergarments. He set them on the counter, where the shopkeeper¡ªa thin woman with glasses perched on the edge of her nose¡ªgave him a quick, discerning look. ¡°Three sets of tunics, pants, shorts, and undergarments, plus a cloak,¡± she said, her voice crisp and businesslike. ¡°That¡¯ll be 7 silver for the lot.¡± Ezren didn¡¯t hesitate. He pulled out a small pouch and handed her 7 silver coins. ¡°Do you have any shops nearby that sell better quality cloth or armor?¡± The shopkeeper nodded curtly. ¡°You¡¯ll find something better near the armorer, just past the church. Don¡¯t expect much for your coin, though.¡± Ezren took the bundle of clothes and turned to Tobin. "Lead me to an inn with a bath. I need to clean up." Tobin nodded, tucking the bundle under his arm as they made their way down the street. ¡°There¡¯s a good place a couple blocks down¡ªThe Rusty Lantern. It¡¯s got a shared bathhouse. The price¡¯s usually 2 silver for a room with access to the bath, but sometimes they lower it if the place is busy.¡± As they walked, Tobin pointed out various landmarks. ¡°The market¡¯s just up ahead, the church is beyond the smith¡¯s shop, and if you¡¯re looking for a drink, there¡¯s a tavern by the square.¡± They eventually reached The Rusty Lantern, a modest but well-kept building with a flickering lantern hanging above the entrance. The sign swayed gently in the wind, and the warm light from inside contrasted sharply with the cool breeze outside. Ezren then pulled out 2 silver, handing them to Tobin. ¡°For your trouble. Thanks for the help.¡± Tobin blinked in surprise as he accepted the coins. ¡°You didn¡¯t have to do that, but I¡¯ll take it.¡± He grinned, tucking the silver into his pouch. ¡°Appreciate it, Ezren. I¡¯ll be around if you need anything.¡± Tobin gave a brief nod, then disappeared into the busy streets. Ezren gave a half-smile before turning to enter the inn. The door creaked open, and the warmth of the room flooded over him, a sharp contrast to the chill of the evening air. Chapter 15: Shopping, Shopping, Shopping Ezren stepped inside. The innkeeper led him to a small but clean room with a narrow bed. The bathhouse was down the hall, steam already rising from the wooden doors. Ezren set the bundle of clothes on the bed, savoring the warmth of the room. It was time to clean himself up and prepare for the goblin scouting mission ahead. The innkeeper¡ªa broad-shouldered man with a thick beard¡ªgreeted them from behind the counter. "Two silver for a room with a bath. We¡¯ve got a few other guests tonight, so you¡¯ll have to share the bath, but it¡¯s clean enough." Ezren handed over 2 silver coins, and the innkeeper nodded. He then motioned toward the door on the far side of the hall. ¡°Down the hall, second door on the left. Towels are over by the entrance to the bathhouse,¡± he said, pointing to a neat stack of towels piled on a small wooden shelf. Ezren gave a nod of acknowledgment, then turned to head toward the bath. He entered the room, dropping his new clothes and bundle of belongings to the floor with a heavy sigh, relieved to finally have some time to clean up. A moment later, he walked down the hall to the bathhouse. The heat and steam greeted him before the door even opened, the scent of wood and warm water filling the air. He grabbed one of the towels from the shelf, wrapping it over his shoulder, and stepped inside. The bathhouse was a simple yet functional space, with wooden walls and a stone floor. A large, steaming bath filled one side of the room, water gently sloshing as a few other travelers relaxed in the warmth. The air was thick with steam, the flickering light of lanterns casting soft shadows along the walls. The bath itself was large enough to accommodate several people, and the water¡¯s warmth embraced Ezren as he dipped his feet in, letting out a quiet sigh of relief After finishing his bath, Ezren felt a new sense of clarity. The warmth of the water had relaxed his muscles, washing away the grime and weariness of the road. He dried off with the towel, then headed back to his room, feeling the comfort of the fresh, clean air in contrast to the earlier dirt-caked fatigue. The new clothes¡ªsimple but sturdy¡ªfelt like a small luxury. The tunic, pants, cloak, and even the undergarments fit well, and the weight of them was a welcome change from the ragged robes he had been wearing. Ezren stood in front of the small mirror, taking a moment to adjust the cloak around his shoulders. He added the leather vest with pauldrons, which fit comfortably over his tunic, giving him a more armored look without being too heavy. He strapped on the belt designed for daggers, but instead of daggers, he placed three of his bone spikes along it, ready for quick access if needed. The cool weight of the bone spikes against his side felt reassuring. For the first time in what felt like ages, he felt clean and properly equipped. He couldn¡¯t help but allow himself a brief moment of satisfaction, his appearance now matching the strength he knew he possessed. He gave a quiet nod to his reflection and left the room, his steps lighter than before. Making his way downstairs, Ezren entered the inn¡¯s common room. The murmur of voices and the crackle of the fire in the hearth filled the air. A few other travelers sat at tables, eating and chatting over their meals. The innkeeper waved him over and gestured to the small menu board hanging near the counter. "Food¡¯s served all day," the innkeeper said. "Today¡¯s special is stew, bread, and cheese for one silver." Ezren¡¯s stomach growled softly at the mention of food, reminding him of his hunger. He nodded and placed an order, paying the silver. Within moments, a bowl of steaming stew was placed before him, accompanied by a hunk of fresh bread and a small wedge of cheese. The warm scent of the stew filled his senses, and he took a moment to savor the simple meal, enjoying the comfort of the food and the rest. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. After finishing his lunch, Ezren stepped outside, his new clothes settling comfortably on his frame. With his bag slung over his shoulder and a sense of satisfaction settling in, he made his way toward the market, ready for the next part of his errands. Ezren stepped into the alchemy shop, the bell above the door ringing faintly as he entered. The shop smelled of herbs, dried flowers, and faint traces of sulfur. Glass containers lined the shelves, filled with various powders, liquids, and strange-looking ingredients. In the center of the shop was a large display case, showcasing a variety of colorful potions¡ªeach one glowing faintly in the dim light, casting strange reflections on the polished wooden counters. He walked toward the case, his eyes drawn to the vibrant liquids inside the glass bottles. Some potions shimmered in hues of blue, green, and purple, while others seemed to pulse with an eerie inner light. A small sign next to each potion displayed the prices, but when Ezren saw the cost for the minor healing potions¡ª5 gold coins per vial¡ªhis brow furrowed in surprise. He had gold, yes, but that was far too steep for his tastes. Ezren turned away from the potions, his eyes scanning the rest of the shop. A young clerk, wearing a brown apron and a faded scarf, approached him with a polite smile. ¡°Can I help you, sir?¡± the clerk asked. Ezren nodded, looking around the shop before meeting the clerk¡¯s gaze. ¡°I¡¯m looking to buy equipment for poison-making,¡± he said. ¡°What do you have?¡± The clerk led him over to a small section in the back, where several shelves were stocked with glass vials, cauldrons, mixing tools, and various alchemical instruments. The clerk gestured to the array of items. ¡°We¡¯ve got plenty of basic alchemy tools¡ªglass vials, beakers, cauldrons, and mixing utensils. You¡¯ll also need some tongs, a mortar and pestle for grinding ingredients, and, of course, gloves for safety.¡± Ezren looked through the equipment, inspecting the items closely. The tools seemed well-made, and he selected a few essentials. The clerk packaged them neatly, then set them on the counter. After a brief pause, Ezren spoke again, his tone casual but probing. ¡°Do you sell poison here? I need something specific.¡± The clerk nodded, then moved to another shelf where two jars sat¡ªone labeled ¡°Man-Made Poison¡± and the other ¡°Monster Poison.¡± He picked up both, showing them to Ezren. ¡°We have two types: man-made poison, which is usually a mixture of various deadly ingredients, and monster poison, which is harvested from dangerous creatures. The monster poisons tend to be more potent but also rarer.¡± The clerk walked back to the counter and brought over two books, offering them to Ezren. ¡°These will help you understand how to use them. One¡¯s on general poison-making, and the other is a guide on handling specific monster poisons.¡± Ezren flipped through the pages of both books. The monster poison section caught his attention, detailing how venom from creatures like basilisks and wyverns could be used in a variety of potions and traps. The practical application of the information seemed useful for his darker ambitions. After a few moments of contemplation, Ezren closed the books and returned them to the clerk. ¡°I¡¯ll take this,¡± he said, pointing to a small vial of basilisk poison¡ªits dark, viscous liquid swirling inside. ¡°The paralysis poison. How much?¡± The clerk glanced at the vial, then smiled. ¡°5 gold.¡± Ezren winced slightly but reached into his pouch, pulling out the coins. The poison was expensive, but the power it held was undeniable. He handed over the 5 gold for the vial and paid an additional 1 gold for the alchemy equipment, the total coming to 6 gold coins. As the clerk packaged everything up, Ezren couldn¡¯t help but feel the sting of his diminishing funds. He tucked the vial carefully into his bag, along with the new equipment, and nodded to the clerk. ¡°Thank you,¡± Ezren said, giving a small nod before turning to leave the shop. The weight of the poison vial in his bag felt heavier than its size, a reminder of the price he had paid¡ªnot just in gold, but in the power it would bring. Ezren walked through the bustling market, his bag heavier now with the purchases he¡¯d made. The air was warm, and the streets hummed with the sound of vendors shouting their wares. The aroma of sizzling meats and freshly baked goods filled his nostrils, and his stomach growled in response. He decided to grab a quick bite before heading back to the inn. He stopped at a stall where a vendor was grilling thick cuts of seasoned pork on a hot, open flame. The crispy, charred smell was irresistible. Ezren bought a skewer of the meat, along with a bowl of roasted potatoes dusted with herbs. He also grabbed a small loaf of bread, still warm from the oven, and washed it all down with a jug of cool, frothy ale. The food was simple, but it filled him enough to quell his hunger, the flavors earthy and satisfying. With his meal finished, he made his way back to the inn, his footsteps quiet on the cobblestone streets. Chapter 16: Preperations. Ezren returned to the inn and made his way up to his room. He locked the door behind him, the weight of the day settling into his bones. With a sigh, he walked to the corner of the room and opened the portal, carefully placing his books, food, and alchemy equipment inside. Once everything was in place, he closed the portal, satisfied with the work. He then called out for Graos, and the Fleshsmith emerged from the shadows, his insect-like tendrils twitching eagerly at the sight of his master¡¯s request. Ezren held up the vial of basilisk poison. ¡°Can you analyze this and replicate it?¡± Graos extended his tendrils, the thin appendages curling around the vial like the legs of a hungry spider. The Fleshsmith pressed one of the tendrils against the vial¡¯s surface, and Ezren watched as the poison was slowly drawn inside, absorbed into Graos¡¯s own strange, organic system. Graos¡¯s voice rumbled, low and steady. ¡°Analyzing... The basilisk poison is a paralytic. It affects the nervous system, freezing the body in place. Potent and swift. Its complexity is notable, but transmutation is possible.¡± ¡°Good.¡± Ezren¡¯s eyes glinted with anticipation. He picked up an empty vial and handed it to Graos. ¡°Transmute more of it.¡± Graos complied, his tendrils curling inward as he began the process. Ezren felt it immediately¡ªa familiar pull, like hooks sinking into his flesh. Dark mana surged upward from the pit of his stomach, snaking along his spine with a cold, electrifying pressure. It converged silently as his power was drawn. Sweat beaded on his forehead, trickling down his face as Graos siphoned the energy. Ezren gritted his teeth against the chill creeping through his veins. The process was automatic now, a seamless connection between them¡ªGraos analyzing, then transmuting a liquid stored within himself, transforming it into the venom with the dark mana Ezren provided. Graos¡¯s tendrils withdrew, a new vial filled with basilisk poison cradled between them. The liquid shimmered faintly with a sickly, green glow. ¡°Complete,¡± Graos intoned, his voice carrying an undertone of satisfaction. Ezren inspected the vial carefully, nodding his approval. ¡°Graos,¡± he said, turning to the Chimera snake resting nearby. ¡°Inject this poison into the Chimera snake¡¯s head.¡± If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. The Fleshsmith obeyed, his tendrils slithering out and carefully administering the paralytic venom into the creature. The Chimera snake¡¯s body twitched, adjusting to the new substance now circulating within it. Ezren¡¯s attention shifted to his bone spikes. He summoned three of them at once, each one rising into the air with a thought. Guiding them felt almost like moving a cursor across a screen¡ªsmooth, precise, directed by his will. But handling all three simultaneously required far more focus. He tried rotating them in different directions, one clockwise, another counterclockwise, and the last darting back and forth. His mind strained as he maintained control, like juggling three separate tasks at once. Sweat broke out along his temples. His head throbbed as he pushed himself further, trying to maintain their independent movements. Unlike his previous point-and-shoot method, this felt like trying to sketch intricate patterns with each spike. The strain built quickly, a sharp ache blossoming behind his eyes. Ezren clenched his teeth, forcing himself to keep the spikes moving, but the pain grew unbearable. His vision blurred slightly, a creeping dizziness threatening to overwhelm him. He released his hold, the spikes dropping to the ground with a clatter. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, his head pounding from the effort. ¡°Damn it,¡± he muttered, massaging his temples. His control was improving, but the complexity of moving multiple spikes independently was still beyond him. Not impossible. Just... difficult. He gathered the spikes again, but this time only moved one. It drifted through the air, smooth and effortless, responding to his will with the same fluidity as before. But the moment he tried adding a second and third, the strain returned, though not as sharply as before. Determined, Ezren continued practicing, alternating between single spikes and multiple ones, testing the limits of his focus and endurance. Refusing to yield to the strain, Ezren then focused on refining the penetrating power of a single bone spike. He summoned one spike and, with precise control, guided it upward. With a determined gesture, he set it rotating like a drill, the dark mana swirling around its sharpened edges. As the spike spun faster, Ezren shifted its motion, making it trace a perfect circular halo to build momentum. The rhythmic spin pulsed with energy, each rotation channeling more of his dark mana into its form. With a sudden, decisive motion, he propelled the drilling spike toward the wall of the forge. It struck the flesh-like surface with tremendous impact, embedding itself fully. The force of the impact reverberated through the chamber, a resounding crack echoing as the spike took permanent hold¡ªa testament to his growing power. Ezren smiled, satisfied. After what felt like hours, his energy was spent. Exhaustion tugged at his limbs. Ezren lowered himself to the ground and closed his eyes. In the quiet darkness, he entered deep meditation, allowing his body to slowly replenish the mana lost during his arduous practice. When he felt his strength returning, he opened the portal once more to return to his room. With a final deep breath, he stepped through it, ready to rest and let sleep fully restore him for tomorrow¡¯s quest.. Chapter 17: Goblin Hunting Chapter 17: Goblin Hunting Ezren woke up. He opened a portal and cast Reanimation and Branding on a dead bird. Its eyes flickered with dark mana. It twitched, then took flight. "Find goblins. North." The bird obeyed, soaring into the sky. Ezren stepped through the portal. He grabbed a quick breakfast, then headed north. Ezren continued north along the road. After an hour of walking, he opened the portal once more and released the Chimera, its towering, grotesque form stepping forth with a low growl. A few minutes later, the undead bird returned, circling above before diving toward a spot northwest. Ezren followed its lead, weaving through the underbrush until he came upon a clearing. He crouched behind a tree, eyes narrowing as he spotted six goblins gathered around a fire, roasting a freshly killed boar. They were distracted¡ªlaughing, tearing at the meat, completely unaware of the hunter lurking beyond the shadows. Ezren inhaled deeply, his senses sharpening as he tapped into the dark mana coursing through him. The bone spike hovered before him, its form twisting slightly as the mana within it thrummed with power. It was alive with energy, waiting for his command. With a flick of his will, the spike shot forward, its motion swift but precise, cutting through the air in a blur. It was fast¡ªfast enough to leave a trail of disturbed air in its wake¡ªbut still visible, a deadly white streak. The first goblin never saw it coming. The spike slammed into its neck, its momentum carrying it through with a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed, and the goblin dropped, its life snuffed out. The others snapped to attention, but the second spike was already in motion. It spun, gaining speed as it tore toward its target. It struck the next goblin¡¯s throat with a brutal force, its momentum enough to drive it deep into the flesh before the creature collapsed, twitching, its life drained. The third strike followed, the bone spike¡¯s path deadly and sure. It slashed through the air, its tip carving through the third goblin¡¯s chest with enough force to send it reeling backward, blood gushing from the wound. The spike¡¯s momentum carried it through, the goblin¡¯s body crumpling like a ragdoll. But the fourth was different. The goblin jerked away at the last moment, and the spike struck with less force, lodging halfway through its neck. The impact still sent a burst of blood spraying, but it wasn¡¯t enough to bring the creature down in one strike. It stumbled, choking, gasping for air as the blood pooled around its feet. Ezren¡¯s eyes gleamed with cold intent. ¡°Chimera, kill the rest,¡± Ezren commanded with his will. The Chimera moved with brutal efficiency. Its wolf head lunged forward, jaws crushing the skull of the fifth goblin before it could react. The snakes on its back coiled and lashed out, dragging the final goblin to the ground, fangs sinking deep into its flesh. With the battle over, Ezren retrieved his bone spikes, slotting them back into the holster beneath his cloak. He opened the portal and gestured at the Chimera. ¡°Drag the bodies through.¡± The creature obeyed, pulling the corpses toward the swirling darkness. Ezren turned to the undead bird. ¡°Are there more?¡± The bird gave a slight nod and flapped its wings, pointing further north. Ezren continued on. Minutes later, he saw the goblin camp¡ªa group of fifteen gathered near the side of a small hill. Their crude camp sprawled around the mouth of a cave, with weapons and scavenged goods strewn about. Ezren crouched low, eyes narrowing as he calculated his approach. He sent the Chimera to circle around, commanding it to position itself on the camp¡¯s far side. Once ready, Ezren unleashed a bone spike, spinning it like a drill before launching it into the first goblin¡¯s skull. Another spike followed, then another, moving with deadly speed. Five goblins fell before the others even understood what was happening. The remaining goblins shouted in panic, their eyes widening as they noticed the floating spike dancing through the air like a predator. They bolted toward the side of the hill, desperate to escape the unseen attacker¡ªonly to run headlong into the waiting Chimera. The creature tore through their ranks, its wolf jaws snapping limbs while the snake heads lashed out, biting and constricting. Screams filled the air as Ezren¡¯s bone spike continued its merciless assault, weaving between fleeing bodies and tearing through flesh. Within moments, the camp was painted with blood, the stench of death heavy in the air. Ezren''s eyes narrowed as the hobgoblin emerged from the cave, his heavy wooden bat slung over his shoulder. The sight of his fallen minions enraged him, his dark eyes gleaming with fury. The hobgoblin charged from the cave, bat raised high. His eyes blazed with fury as he closed the distance, roaring in defiance. The Chimera¡¯s wolf head lunged, jaws snapping. The hobgoblin swung his bat, deflecting the attack just in time. The wolf¡¯s teeth missed, but the impact of the bat cracked against its skull, knocking it back. Ezren¡¯s bone spike hovered in the air, aimed at the hobgoblin¡¯s neck. With a sharp flick of his wrist, the spike shot forward, but the hobgoblin raised his arm just in time. The bone spike lodged deep into his forearm, but he didn¡¯t falter. The hobgoblin grunted, his grip tightening on his bat. The Chimera lunged again, but the hobgoblin swung his bat, smashing it into the wolf¡¯s head. The beast staggered back. A snake head shot forward, spitting venom. The hobgoblin used his bat to shield himself, stepping forward and swinging again. The Chimera snapped its jaws at his side, but the hobgoblin sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the bite. The Chimera¡¯s snakes lashed out. One sank its fangs deep into the hobgoblin¡¯s leg, sending a burst of agony through him. He howled, swinging his bat with brutal force. The bat slammed down on the snake, crushing its skull. Ezren sent another spike flying, this one aimed for the hobgoblin¡¯s chest. The hobgoblin staggered, but before the spike could pierce his heart, he swung his bat, knocking it off course. It struck his shoulder instead, leaving a deep wound. Ezren¡¯s eyes narrowed as the hobgoblin staggered, losing his balance. Blood poured from the wounds left by the bone spikes, his breathing ragged. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. Through sheer will, Ezren directed the Chimera. Tackle him . The Chimera lunged forward, crashing into the hobgoblin with brutal force. The tackle drove him to the ground, but the hobgoblin twisted at the last moment, managing to raise his bat horizontally. He wedged it between himself and the Chimera¡¯s snapping jaws. The wolf head snarled, teeth gnashing inches away from the hobgoblin¡¯s face. The bat creaked under the strain, held firm by the hobgoblin¡¯s trembling arms. Ezren pressed his will harder. The Chimera¡¯s snakes struck with vicious speed. Two of them sank their fangs deep into the hobgoblin¡¯s arms. He screamed, but he held the bat in place, his muscles straining against the Chimera¡¯s relentless assault. Poison flooded his veins. His arms trembled, strength draining away. Seconds later, his grip faltered. The bat dropped from his weakening fingers, clattering uselessly to the ground. The wolf head lunged, jaws crushing the hobgoblin¡¯s neck. Flesh and bone gave way under the brutal force. The hobgoblin¡¯s final, choked gasp escaped before his body went still. The Chimera rose, snakes hissing in satisfaction, blood dripping from its fangs. Ezren withdrew his will, allowing the creature to return to his side. Ezren walked through the goblin camp, his boots crunching the dry earth beneath him as his eyes scanned the scene. Corpses lay scattered across the ground, abandoned and forgotten in the aftermath of a brutal battle. Unlike when he¡¯d been on Earth, where the sight of dead animals would leave him uneasy, he felt nothing. Back there, he would bury them, feeling a pang of discomfort, but here, in this new world, death was as common as the air he breathed. It was like Orin, accepting the dead that had become a part of him. Now, death wasn¡¯t something to be feared, but rather, a natural thing that was simply¡­ there. The disarray around him didn¡¯t faze him. His focus was on the task at hand. He made his way toward the cave of the hobgoblin, entering it cautiously. Inside, there was nothing remarkable, just a dimly lit space where the hobgoblin had likely spent many nights resting. He didn¡¯t linger long. There was nothing to be gained here. Ezren turned, stepping out of the cave and opening a portal with a wave of his hand. The Chimera appeared, obedient to his call. He commanded it to drag the closest goblin corpse back through the rift, bringing it to the forge. Once the body was settled, he summoned Graos, who arrived with his usual silent presence. ¡°Analyze it,¡± Ezren ordered. Graos extended his tendrils to the corpse, the dark appendages wrapping around the goblin¡¯s body. After a brief moment, he retracted them, his face unreadable.. As he worked, Ezren took out some raw boar meat from his pack, along with some seasonings. He built a small fire and began to prepare his meal, turning the Liempo slowly on the spit as the smell of cooking meat filled the air. Once the meat was done, Ezren sat back and ate, his mind wandering for a moment. When he finished, Graos gave his report on the goblin¡¯s traits. He didn¡¯t want to bother with creating a new monster right now. His work was done. he command graos ¡°Just cut off the left ear of each goblin, take the head of the hobgoblin , and skin them.¡± Graos, without a word, went to work efficiently, cutting off the ears and taking the hobgoblin¡¯s head. The skinning process was meticulous, but Graos didn¡¯t seem to mind the task, his focus unwavering. Ezren sat back, meditating quietly for about an hour, gathering his thoughts as Graos worked. Once the ears and head were secured in a sack, he stood up and stretched. It was time to go. He opened another portal, calling upon the bird to lead him back to the road. With the bird¡¯s guidance, Ezren retraced his steps, taking the two-hour walk back to the town. The familiar sights of the town greeted him as he approached. He paid the toll to enter and headed straight to the mercenary hall. Ezren entered the bustling mercenary hall, the warmth of the hearth and the low hum of conversation filling the air. Behind a sturdy desk sat a grizzled man, his scarred face and steely gaze giving him an air of authority. He looked up from his paperwork, eyes narrowing as he noticed Ezren. ¡°Well, well, if it isn¡¯t our newest recruit,¡± the man grunted, his voice rough but not unfriendly. ¡°You¡¯re starting to look like a proper mercenary now.¡± Ezren gave a brief nod, uninterested in pleasantries. He placed the sack onto the counter with a dull thud. The man''s gaze shifted to the sack, his expression hardening as he unwrapped it and found the severed goblin ears and the hobgoblin head. His eyes widened, but only for a moment before they settled into a scowl. ¡°The quest was scouting,¡± he growled. ¡°Observe the goblins, report back. Not¡­ this.¡± He jabbed a finger at the bloody trophies. ¡°A hobgoblin? You damn fool, that¡¯s not something a green recruit should be messing with. You trying to get yourself killed?¡± ¡°I handled it,¡± Ezren replied, his tone flat. ¡°The scouting was simple. The goblins were no match.¡± The man stared at him, expression torn between irritation and curiosity. ¡°You handled it, huh?¡± he repeated, eyes narrowing. ¡°How the hell did you do it?¡± Ezren met his gaze, his voice calm and steady. ¡°I dealt with them. No need for further explanation.¡± The Guild Master¡¯s gaze bore into Ezren, his scarred face unreadable. He leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming against the wood. ¡°Dealt with them...¡± he echoed, eyes narrowing. ¡°You sure as hell did. But a hobgoblin?¡± He shook his head. ¡°You¡¯re a new recruit, Ezren. That was a damn fool move. Scouts are meant to watch and report. Not march into a camp and start swinging.¡± Ezren didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°The goblins were no threat. Neither was the hobgoblin.¡± The Guild Master grunted. ¡°Cocky, are you? Or just stupid?¡± His tone was sharp, but there was a glint of curiosity in his gaze. ¡°Hobgoblins aren¡¯t something you just deal with. Not unless you¡¯ve got skill... or a death wish.¡± Ezren remained silent, his expression steady. The Guild Master let the silence stretch, his gaze probing. ¡°How did you do it?¡± the Guild Master asked, his voice low and demanding. Ezren¡¯s eyes met his. ¡°Does it matter?¡± The old man let out a short, barking laugh. ¡°I suppose not. But it matters to me if I¡¯m gonna be handing out coin for a job I never expected you to survive.¡± He leaned forward, the chair creaking under his weight. ¡°You¡¯ve got guts, I¡¯ll give you that. But guts only get you so far before they¡¯re spilled all over the dirt.¡± The Guild Master jabbed a finger at the hobgoblin¡¯s head. ¡°I¡¯ll count this as a completed quest. You went above and beyond. But I¡¯m warning you now, Ezren¡ªkeep this up, and you¡¯re either gonna be rich or dead. Maybe both.¡± The Guild Master reached into a drawer, producing a small pouch of coins and tossing it onto the counter. ¡°Here. Your reward. And a bit extra, for the hobgoblin. Don¡¯t make me regret it.¡± Ezren caught the pouch, feeling the weight of the coins. But before he could turn away, the old man held up a hand. ¡°One more thing.¡± The Guild Master rummaged through the drawer again, his fingers fishing out a small, engraved tag made of darkened bronze. He held it up, the metal catching the light. ¡°Congratulations, Ezren. You¡¯ve passed the recruitment test.¡± The Guild Master¡¯s tone was gruff, but there was a hint of approval in his gaze. ¡°This is your Bronze Tag. Your proof that you¡¯re officially a mercenary now.¡± He slid the tag across the counter. It was simple, about the size of a coin, engraved with the insignia of the mercenary guild and Ezren¡¯s name etched along the edge. A leather cord was threaded through a small hole at the top, meant to be worn around the neck or attached to one¡¯s gear. ¡°Keep it on you at all times,¡± the Guild Master continued. ¡°Lose it, and you¡¯ll be paying for a replacement out of your own damn pocket. And more importantly, that tag¡¯s your only proof you¡¯re a legitimate mercenary. No tag, no jobs. Understand?¡± Ezren took the tag and inspected it briefly before slipping it around his neck. ¡°Understood.¡± The Guild Master gave a satisfied nod. ¡°Good. Now get out of here before I decide you¡¯re more trouble than you¡¯re worth.¡± Ezren nodded to the Guild Master and turned away, the weight of the Bronze Tag settling around his neck. The hall was lively, mercenaries gathered in groups, laughing, drinking, or discussing their latest contracts. His eyes drifted to the bulletin board mounted on the far wall, plastered with various posters and notices. He approached, scanning the papers with a sharp gaze. Hunting. Escorting. Scouting. Most of the jobs seemed tedious or below his interest. But one poster caught his eye¡ªa request written in bold, hurried strokes: ¡°WANTED: Wild Bear Extermination Location: West Village Problem: Bear killing livestock. Threat level increasing. Reward: 5 Silver Coins upon completion. Report to the village head for details.¡± Ezren tore the poster from the board, folding it neatly and tucking it into his pouch. A hunt was straightforward enough. With the Bronze Tag secured and a new quest in hand, he stepped out of the mercenary hall, and go to the market.
system of mercenary is - copper-bronze(proper warrior or soldier)-silver(can lead a group or can fight fight a group of people) mostly people who is skilled, can use magic or aura -gold (top tear mercenary that master aura or magic). after gold most people get scouted by lords and noble to be personal guards or soldiers. Chapter 18: Smoke and Steel Chapter 18: Smoke and Steel Ezren stepped out of the mercenary hall, his eyes drifting toward the bustling marketplace. He made his way to the leather merchant¡¯s stall, the same man he¡¯d dealt with before. The merchant, a stocky fellow with sharp eyes and calloused hands, brightened as Ezren approached. ¡°Well, if it isn¡¯t my favorite customer!¡± the merchant greeted him warmly, flashing a grin. ¡°Back again, eh? Though I don¡¯t see any hides on you. Want to head to the room at the back?¡± Ezren nodded. The merchant gestured for him to follow, leading him behind the stall and into a small storage room cluttered with various leathers and tools. Ezren stepped out of the mercenary hall, his eyes drifting toward the bustling marketplace. Before heading west for the hunt, he needed to offload the hides. With the Chimera¡¯s help, they were skinned cleanly¡ªno sense in letting them go to waste. He made his way to the leather merchant¡¯s stall, the same man he¡¯d dealt with before. The merchant, a stocky fellow with sharp eyes and calloused hands, brightened as Ezren approached. ¡°Well, if it isn¡¯t my favorite customer!¡± the merchant greeted him warmly, flashing a grin. ¡°Back again, eh? Though I don¡¯t see any hides on you. Want to head to the room at the back?¡± Ezren nodded. The merchant gestured for him to follow, leading him behind the stall and into a small storage room cluttered with various leathers and tools. Once the door shut, Ezren placed the hides onto a cleared table¡ªtwenty-one goblin hides and one hobgoblin hide. The merchant raised an eyebrow as he inspected them, his fingers running over the rough texture. ¡°Hmm... Still good quality hides, I¡¯ll give you that,¡± the merchant admitted, his tone a little hesitant. ¡°But unlike the wolf hides you brought last time, these aren¡¯t exactly in high demand. Goblin leather¡¯s cheap, used mostly for scraps or low-quality gear.¡± He glanced at Ezren, gauging his reaction. ¡°I can give you 2 silver per goblin hide and 3 silver for the hobgoblin hide. Not much, but it¡¯s what they¡¯re worth.¡± Ezren considered the offer briefly. It wasn¡¯t much, but he hadn¡¯t expected a fortune. ¡°I¡¯ll take it.¡± The merchant nodded and counted out the coins, sliding them over. ¡°Pleasure doing business with you.¡± Ezren pocketed the coins and left, his gaze sweeping the marketplace. His eyes fell upon a small bookstore nestled between two larger shops, its sign creaking gently in the breeze. Curious, he stepped inside. Shelves of books lined the cramped interior, the scent of paper and ink heavy in the air. A hunched man with spectacles perched on his nose glanced up and nodded in greeting before returning to his reading. Ezren browsed the shelves, his fingers tracing the spines of the books until two caught his attention:
  1. ¡°The Iron Tyrant: Rise and Fall of Emperor Aric Stormbane¡± - A detailed historical account of the great human emperor who, eighty years ago, united the human realms under his banner. His greed led him to attempt the enslavement of the elves and dwarves, only to be crushed by their combined forces.
  2. ¡°The Black King¡¯s Wrath¡± - A fictional tale chronicling the destruction brought upon the world by a powerful Demon King, his armies leaving nothing but ruin in their wake. Ezren was intrigued¡ªstories of dark power and conquest resonated with him, even if only as cautionary tales.
He purchased both books, slipping them into his satchel before stepping back outside. After leaving the bookstore, Ezren wandered through the market, his eyes drifting over various stalls selling fruits, spices, trinkets, and weapons. The noise and liveliness of the place were a stark contrast to the quiet of the wilds he had just returned from. His curiosity led him to a nearby blacksmith¡¯s shop. The clang of hammer against metal echoed from within, accompanied by the sharp hiss of hot steel meeting water. Ezren stepped inside, the heat from the forge pressing against his skin. Weapons and armor lined the walls¡ªswords, axes, spears, and shields crafted with care and precision. A burly man with soot-streaked arms looked up from his work, his beard singed at the edges. ¡°New face,¡± he grunted, his voice deep and rumbling. ¡°Here to buy or just browsing?¡± ¡°Browsing,¡± Ezren replied, his gaze sweeping over the displayed items. The blacksmith nodded. ¡°Fair enough. Got all sorts of weapons, from blades to blunt tools. Armor, too, if you¡¯re in need of protection. Though, judging by that tag around your neck, you¡¯re one of those mercenary types.¡± Ezren¡¯s fingers brushed the Bronze Tag absently. ¡°What do you have for sale?¡± The blacksmith gestured to the racks. ¡°Basic iron weapons are the cheapest¡ªswords, daggers, spears. Nothing fancy, but they¡¯ll get the job done. If you want something better, I¡¯ve got steel blades, but those will cost you.¡± He pointed to a section of the shop where armor pieces hung. ¡°Leather armor, chainmail, breastplates. Depends on what you¡¯re looking for. And if you¡¯ve got your own designs or materials, I do custom work. For a price.¡± Ezren inspected the weapons, his gaze lingering on a set of daggers with wickedly curved blades. Functional, but not what he was looking for. ¡°Just looking for now,¡± Ezren said. The blacksmith grunted. ¡°Suit yourself. Come back if you change your mind.¡± Ezren gave a nod of acknowledgment before stepping back out into the market. He hadn¡¯t planned to buy anything, but it was good to know what the town¡¯s blacksmith had to offer. Ezren¡¯s gaze lingered on a particular piece of armor hanging near the corner of the shop. A finely crafted chainmail, its rings tightly woven and polished to a dull sheen that wouldn¡¯t easily catch the light. Solid, practical, and clearly made for combat. ¡°This,¡± Ezren said, pointing at the chainmail. The blacksmith nodded approvingly. ¡°Good choice. Sturdy and dependable. That piece¡¯ll cost you 1 gold.¡± Ezren handed over the gold coin, feeling the weight of his pouch lighten. He lifted the chainmail, draping it over his arm. It was heavier than his usual attire, but he appreciated the protection it would provide. ¡°One more thing,¡± Ezren added. ¡°Do you sell smoke bombs?¡± The blacksmith let out a snort. ¡°Smoke bombs? Not here. You¡¯ll want the Alchemist¡¯s shop for that sort of thing. They sell those and even schematics if you¡¯re looking to make them yourself.¡± Ezren gave a nod of thanks and made his way through the market once more. The Alchemist¡¯s shop was nestled between a jeweler and a bakery, its sign adorned with a swirling flask. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. He pushed the door open, a bell chiming softly as he stepped inside. The air was thick with the scent of herbs and chemicals, shelves lined with potions, powders, and strange ingredients. An elderly woman with sharp eyes and a gentle smile looked up from her counter. ¡°Welcome. What can I help you with today?¡± ¡°I¡¯m looking for smoke bombs,¡± Ezren replied. ¡°And the schematics for making them.¡± Her eyes gleamed with interest. ¡°Ah, so you¡¯re one of those inventive types. Lucky for you, I have just what you need.¡± She reached under the counter and produced three separate scrolls, laying them out before him.
  1. Basic Smoke Bomb: A simple device for creating a thick cloud of smoke, perfect for concealment or escape.
  2. Tear Gas Bomb: Releases a stinging, irritating cloud that can disorient and incapacitate enemies.
  3. Lethal Smoke Bomb: A more dangerous concoction, releasing a poisonous gas that can kill if inhaled for too long.
¡°Those are the schematics. I also sell the ingredients and the metal shells required to craft them,¡± she continued. ¡°I¡¯ll take all three schematics,¡± Ezren said. ¡°And enough ingredients and shells to make a few of each.¡± The old woman¡¯s smile widened. ¡°Ambitious. That¡¯ll cost you 3 gold total.¡± Ezren counted out the coins and placed them on the counter. The alchemist handed over the scrolls, a small bag of ingredients, and a bundle of metal shells. ¡°Good luck with your crafting,¡± she said as Ezren made his way out of the shop. Ezren headed back to the inn, his satchel now heavier with his new purchases. The day had been productive, and his mind was already turning over the possibilities of his newly acquired schematics. Ezren stepped into the inn, the familiar warmth and chatter greeting him. As he approached the counter, the innkeeper¡ªa broad-shouldered man with a friendly smile¡ªgave him a nod. ¡°Back again, eh?¡± the innkeeper said. ¡°You¡¯re looking like you¡¯re settling in here, lad. How about this¡ªI can tell you¡¯re the type to come and go, so why not pay two days in advance? If you check out for good after that, then you can settle the rest of the bill.¡± Ezren considered the offer. It made sense. Less hassle when he was heading out on quests. ¡°Alright. Two days.¡± He placed the coins on the counter. The innkeeper¡¯s grin widened. ¡°Good man. Room¡¯s yours, same as before.¡± Ezren made his way upstairs, his new purchases weighing down his satchel. Once inside his room, he locked the door and set his things down. He retrieved the three scrolls he¡¯d bought from the alchemist and unfurled the first one, Basic Smoke Bomb, spreading it out over the small table. The parchment was filled with detailed instructions and diagrams: Basic Smoke Bomb Ingredients: Instructions:
  1. Crush and mix the charcoal dust and sulfur powder thoroughly.
  2. Add niter to the mixture and stir until evenly blended.
  3. Pack the mixture into a metal shell, sealing it tightly.
  4. Attach a fuse to the shell for ignition.
Ezren¡¯s eyes narrowed as he studied the instructions. Straightforward enough. He shifted the scroll aside and opened the next one. Tear Gas Bomb Ingredients: The third scroll, the most dangerous of them all: Lethal Smoke Bomb Ingredients: Ezren smirked. The alchemist wasn¡¯t lying when she said these schematics were ambitious. The basic smoke bomb would be the easiest to make, but the tear gas and lethal variants would require precision. He retrieved the ingredients and shells from his satchel, placing them on the table. Before he started experimenting, he decided to study the scrolls thoroughly. The last thing he needed was an explosion going off in his room by mistake. Night had already begun to fall outside, but Ezren remained engrossed in the schematics, his mind focused on understanding every detail. Ezren spent the next few hours hunched over the table, his focus razor-sharp as he worked. He began with the Basic Smoke Bomb, carefully mixing the niter, charcoal dust, and sulfur powder until the blend was smooth and consistent. He poured the mixture into a metal shell, packed it tightly, and sealed it. Attaching a fuse was simple enough¡ªjust a thin cord dipped in flammable resin. Satisfied, he set the first bomb aside and repeated the process two more times until he had three Basic Smoke Bombs laid neatly before him. Next, he moved on to the Tear Gas Bombs. This one was trickier. He followed the instructions precisely, mixing the Stinging Spice Extract with the niter and charcoal dust. A touch of Binding Oil held the contents together. He sealed the mixture into three shells, careful to ensure they were airtight. As he worked, a stray whiff of the concoction stung his nostrils, causing his eyes to water slightly. The stuff was potent. Finally, he tackled the Lethal Smoke Bombs. Ezren approached this task with even more caution. The Deadly Nightshade Extract and Bloodroot Paste required precise handling. He wore gloves as he mixed the toxic ingredients with the base powders, his movements steady and controlled. He sealed the last shell with a quiet exhale, setting it beside the others. Now, he had three of each type, nine bombs total. Satisfied, Ezren cleaned the table and carefully stored the bombs in his satchel. His mind was still humming with the process, but the fatigue was beginning to creep in. He slid into bed, his body sinking into the mattress. Sleep took him quickly.
Earlier that day Ezren stepped out of the guild hall, the pouch of coins heavy in his pocket, the Bronze Tag securely tucked into his belt. He felt the weight of both his new rank and the eyes of those around him. For the first time, he was truly a mercenary, and it felt strange, a mix of excitement and uncertainty. Unbeknownst to him, a rat-like man stood hidden in the shadow of the alleyway, watching. His beady eyes tracked Ezren as he left the guild, following him for a few moments before slipping into a nearby tavern. Inside the tavern, the usual buzz of conversation and clinking mugs filled the room. Four rough-looking swordsmen sat around a table, their eyes sharp, their muscles taut with readiness. Two archers stood near the door, eyeing the crowd warily. The rat-like man, a sly, thin figure with greasy hair and a constant sneer, approached the table. His voice was low and urgent as he leaned in. ¡°I¡¯ve got something,¡± he said, his tone eager. ¡°There¡¯s a new recruit at the guild, just got his reward money today. I saw it with my own eyes. Tons of it.¡± One of the swordsmen, a burly man with a thick beard, raised an eyebrow. ¡°A new recruit, huh? Sounds like an easy mark. What¡¯s he got that¡¯s worth our time?¡± The rat grinned, his sharp teeth gleaming. ¡°He¡¯s a fresh one, not like the veterans. Didn¡¯t look like he knew how to watch his back. Plus, I¡¯ve been keeping an eye on him. He¡¯s headed to the west village. He¡¯s probably planning to take on that wild bear mission.¡± The second swordsman, a wiry fellow with a scar across his cheek, scoffed. ¡°A bear hunt, huh? What¡¯s he really got? A couple of silver?¡± The rat shook his head. ¡°Not just silver. This kid¡¯s rolling in it. He¡¯s got the reward money from the goblin camp. And if he¡¯s not smart, he¡¯s carrying plenty more. You know how it is with recruits¡ªthey get cocky, don¡¯t watch their coin.¡± The third swordsman, a quiet one with an unshaven jaw, leaned forward. ¡°So, you¡¯re saying we should follow him? Wait for him to make a mistake?¡± The rat-like man nodded. ¡°Exactly. He¡¯s an easy target. The kind that thinks the world is a lot safer than it is. We¡¯ve got six men¡ªfour swordsmen and two archers. We catch him when he¡¯s alone, after he¡¯s done with the village. Take him out quietly. We¡¯ll split his coin and leave him for the bears.¡± One of the archers, a tall, lanky man with a bow slung over his shoulder, tapped his fingers on the table. ¡°I like it. No risk, no fuss. We get in, take the money, and get out. It¡¯ll be easy.¡± The rat grinned wider, his eyes gleaming with greed. "Alright, then. Tommorow," he said, his voice low but certain. "The archers will wait by the south gate. They''ll keep watch, make sure the recruit doesn''t have any backup. The rest of us will trail him¡ªfollow him at a distance. We¡¯ll wait for the right moment." One of the swordsmen, a tall man with a heavy brow, nodded. "And when we¡¯re in position?" The rat¡¯s grin widened. "We take him down fast, quiet. He won¡¯t even know what hit him. We''ll hit him just outside the village, when he¡¯s alone. He won¡¯t have anyone watching his back." The burly swordsman, who had been silent until now, slammed his fist onto the table. "That¡¯s when we move in. We¡¯ll get his gear, his coins¡ªeverything. He¡¯ll be lying face down in the dirt before he even realizes we¡¯re there." "Make sure we¡¯re in position first," the rat added, his voice now sharp with finality. "No mistakes. We¡¯ll get him when it¡¯s right. And when we¡¯re done, we¡¯ll be walking away with his gold and his gear." The group murmured in agreement, their eyes hardening as they mentally prepared for the ambush. The plan was set, and Ezren¡ªunaware of the danger ahead¡ªcontinued his journey, unknowingly walking straight into their trap. Chapter 19: Mess with the wrong person Chapter 19: Mess with the wrong person Ezren stood up from the table, finishing his meal and preparing to head out. The innkeeper¡¯s warm smile was a brief comfort as he moved toward the door. That¡¯s when she appeared. As he reached the threshold, a figure crossed his path¡ªa woman, gliding with unsettling grace through the room. She wore a long, dark cloak, the edges trailing slightly behind her as she moved. Her pale skin was almost ghostly, her face so thin it made her look anemic, as if life itself had been slowly drained from her. Her features were delicate, but her eyes were sharp¡ªobservant, intense, like she was watching everything around her carefully, constantly calculating. There was a quiet sadness in the way she carried herself, a vulnerability that contrasted with the underlying strength in her posture. She seemed distant, detached from everything around her, yet fully present in her own way. Her hair was short, cut in a bob that framed her face, dark and neat, like it had been hastily arranged but still looked natural. In one hand, she carried a Gladstone bag, the leather worn but still sturdy. It had the look of something practical, yet somehow out of place in a town like this. Ezren couldn''t help but notice her build¡ªslight, standing at about 5¡¯4¡ªbut her presence was unsettling, like she didn''t belong, yet she was exactly where she needed to be. It was the kind of presence that didn¡¯t seek attention but commanded it. As she passed him, their eyes met briefly. She said nothing, her expression unreadable. There was no warmth in her gaze, no acknowledgment beyond the quiet intensity that seemed to emanate from her. Ezren stood frozen for a moment, the weight of her gaze lingering in the air. She was gone in an instant, slipping past him, her footsteps almost silent as she moved through the door. Ezren shook himself from his reverie. Focus, he reminded himself. Don''t get distracted. He stepped outside into the crisp morning air, but the image of her lingered in his thoughts longer than he cared to admit. Ezren left the inn and headed toward the west village, summoning his bird to scout ahead. The bird flew off into the sky, its keen eyes searching the area as Ezren walked steadily toward his destination. By the time he arrived, it was close to lunchtime. The village head greeted him warmly, offering him entry into his modest home. Once inside, the village head served him a simple but hearty meal, the smell of roasted meat filling the air. ¡°Thank you for the meal,¡± Ezren said, taking a bite and settling into his seat. The village head nodded, then leaned forward, his expression turning serious. ¡°You¡¯re welcome, mercenary. Now, about that bear¡­ It¡¯s been attacking our livestock¡ªmostly cows. I¡¯ve lost three already. We think it''s been coming from the northwest, near the hills. There¡¯s a cave up there, and it might be using it as a den. If you head that way, you might find it.¡± Ezren finished his food and nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of it.¡± He stood, his resolve firm. "I¡¯ll head that way now." ¡°Be careful,¡± the village head warned, his eyes wary. "The bear''s been wild lately, and we don''t know if it¡¯s acting alone." Ezren acknowledged the advice with a quiet nod and stepped back outside, calling his bird to scout the path ahead once more. The bird took flight again, soaring into the distance, and Ezren followed the bird''s movements through the air as he trekked toward the northwest. After a couple of hours of walking, Ezren arrived at the base of the hills, scanning the area. The cave wasn¡¯t far now, but he knew better than to rush in unprepared. He paused and took out a vial of basilisk poison, carefully lacing it onto the sharp edge of his bone spike. His gaze hardened as he adjusted the bone spike, the dark mana swirling within it. It¡¯s just one bear, he thought, feeling the weight of the moment. Let¡¯s see if I can do this on my own for once. He looked to the sky, watching the bird circle above the cave entrance. "Piss it off," Ezren muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing. Moments later, the bird dove toward the cave, flitting in and out of the entrance. The bear emerged, growling loudly, its massive frame blocking the mouth of the cave. The bird darted around it, taunting and annoying the creature. Ezren gripped his bone spike tightly. "Let''s see if the poison works." He threw the bone spike with deadly accuracy, willing it to accelerate toward the bear. The spike shot through the air, its speed unmatchable as it pierced the bear¡¯s neck and shoulder. The bear let out a mighty roar of pain, still distracted by the bird flitting around it. Ezren watched carefully, his focus unwavering as the bear swayed on its feet, the poison taking effect. Slowly, the animal''s movements grew sluggish, and its roar turned into a low growl. Good. He began walking toward the bear, his hand still gripping the hilt of another bone spike, ready for the final blow. He wasn¡¯t going to let it suffer any longer. As he approached, he prepared to stab the bear in the eyes, to end its life quickly. But before he could strike, a sharp pain erupted in his back. Arrows. two arrows suddenly flew from the side, hitting him in the back of the shoulder and the side of his upper arm. The impact was sharp, but his chainmail absorbed much of the blow, though the pain still surged through him. He staggered back, his senses momentarily hazy from the shock, but he quickly ducked behind a nearby boulder, pressing a hand to his bleeding shoulder. Damn it. Someone was shooting at him. Ezren glanced around quickly, trying to pinpoint the source of the attack. Where the hell are they? The bear was still struggling, its movements sluggish from the poison, but it was still alive. Ezren stayed low behind the paralyze bear, trying to control his breathing. Another arrow whizzed past, striking the bear . The creature let out a painful roar. But it was then that they appeared. From the shadows of the trees, four swordsmen and two archers stepped out, their weapons drawn and ready. The leader, a man who stood at 5¡¯8, with a broad frame, sneered at Ezren from across the open space. His voice was low but commanding. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. ¡°Come out, mercenary.¡± His words were taunting, laced with an edge of menace. ¡°Give us your money, and we¡¯ll let you live.¡± The others around him chuckled, looking at Ezren with a mixture of amusement and contempt. The leader stepped forward, eyes glinting. ¡°Just come out. we promise we let you live?¡± Ezren stayed hidden, his eyes narrowing. He could hear the others closing in, their footsteps heavy on the dirt. But then, without warning, Ezren let out a loud laugh. It was a sharp, almost crazy sound, catching the group off guard. They exchanged confused glances, wondering if he had finally lost his mind. Ezren reached behind him and yanked one of the arrows from his back, grimacing as he did. He could feel the pain, but it didn¡¯t matter. he use Blackblood. Dark mana inside his body mending the arrow wounds in seconds. Still chuckling, he look up from behind the bear. The mercenaries stared at him, uncertain now. But Ezren¡¯s smile only grew wider, his voice dripping with sarcasm. ¡°What a cliche thing to say?¡± he said, his tone almost mocking. ¡°How about next time make sure to kill your target so you wouldnt say things like that.¡± The leader¡¯s eyes flashed with irritation, his hand tightening around his sword. "You''re crazy, huh? You won''t be laughing for long, trust me." Ezren didn¡¯t respond. Instead, he waved his hand in the air, opening a portal. A shimmering rift appeared before him, swirling with dark energy. And from within, the Chimera emerged, its eyes glowing with hatred. Ezren grinned as the Chimera lunged from the portal, its massive form barreling toward the group of mercenaries. The creature was a blur of snarling teeth, sharp claws, and unnerving speed. It targeted one of the swordsmen first, lunging at him with terrifying force. The swordsman barely had time to react before the Chimera¡¯s jaws ripped into his neck. His scream was cut short as the creature tore him apart, the blood splattering across the ground. The archers immediately drew their bows and fired at the Chimera, the arrows striking its body and neck. But it was like shooting at a wall¡ªthe undead Chimera didn¡¯t flinch. It didn¡¯t care. The arrows simply lodged into its flesh, doing nothing to stop its rampage. The remaining three swordsmen hesitated, but before they could react, the three snake-like tendrils on the Chimera¡¯s back shot out. With a hiss, they spat poison at the men. Two of the swordsmen managed to raise their shields in time, blocking the toxic spray, but the third¡ªcaught off guard¡ªwas hit square in the face. He screamed as the paralyzing venom took effect, but it was the blinding poison that hit his eyes. His vision blurred and went dark, leaving him completely blind. He swung his sword wildly in panic, but the blade cut only air. His strikes were uncoordinated and ineffective. The Chimera didn¡¯t pause. It targeted the blinded swordsman next. With a deep, guttural growl, the beast closed the distance in seconds. The swordsman couldn¡¯t even defend himself as the Chimera tackled him, sinking its claws into his chest as its teeth tore into his throat. The man died with a strangled cry, his body crumpling beneath the weight of the beast. The two remaining mercenaries¡ªthe leader and a swordsman¡ªtried to close in on the Chimera, hoping to strike at its exposed flank. The leader, now seething with anger, swung his sword at one of the snakes. With a grunt of effort, he cleaved its head off, sending it wriggling to the ground. But before he could focus on his next move, something sharp and fast shot through the air. A bone spike shot out of the darkness. The rat-faced archer dodged it, narrowly avoiding the deadly projectile. But the other archer wasn¡¯t so lucky. The bone spike struck him right in the neck, and blood poured from the wound as he collapsed to the ground, lifeless. Now, only three mercenaries remained¡ªthe leader, a swordsman, and the rat-faced archer. The rat-faced archer, panicked and wide-eyed, looked around for an escape. With a quick glance at the leader, he turned and bolted, running for his life. The leader scowled at the Chimera, but his eyes flickered to Ezren. The creature was unstoppable, but maybe there was a chance to survive¡ªif he could make it out. He turned and followed the archer, preparing to run himself. But Ezren wasn¡¯t going to let them escape. He made the bird follow the fleeing mercenaries, keeping an eye on their every move. Then, he felt the familiar dark mana stir within him, and with a deep breath, he activated Blackblood. The power surged through his body like aura, strengthening him, as if the very essence of darkness was coursing through his veins. With newfound speed, he dashed toward the running mercenaries, his bone spike flying back into his hand, guided by his will. He could feel the surge of adrenaline as he pursued them, his muscles burning with strength. The Chimera relentlessly pursued the leader, a huge, snarling beast, its teeth bared and eyes glowing with ferocity. The leader ran, his heart pounding in his chest, but the creature was too fast, too relentless. It was only a matter of time before it would catch him. Meanwhile, Ezren had other business to attend to. He focused his gaze on the rat-faced archer, who was running desperately ahead, his thoughts a whirl of panic.
The mercenary cursed under his breath, questioning how everything had gone so horribly wrong. He had attacked a dark mage, and now, it seemed, that mage was hunting him down. "If I can just reach the town," he thought, his breath ragged, "I¡¯ll tell the guards about this dark mage. They¡¯ll deal with him. He can¡¯t be that powerful, right?" But as he glanced over his shoulder, his blood ran cold. Ezren was closing the distance, his speed and focus unnerving. The rat-faced archer stumbled, his mind racing. "How did he find me so quickly?" Before he could react, the sound of something cutting through the air reached his ears¡ªa sharp, slicing noise¡ªand then the sudden pain of a bone spike plunging deep into his back. The rat-faced archer let out a scream of agony as the bone spike struck. His legs gave out, and he collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath, blood spilling from the wound. "Please, please! Let me live!" he begged, his voice trembling in fear. His hands reached out, but he could barely move. "I can give you money¡ªlots of it! I¡¯ll never tell anyone about you, I swear!" Ezren stood above him, his eyes cold. He watched the mercenary beg for his life, his face twisted in desperation. A slow smile spread across Ezren¡¯s face. "Sure," Ezren said, his voice calm, almost detached. "I won¡¯t kill you." The mercenary blinked, relief flooding his chest¡ªuntil he felt his limbs stiffen. He couldn¡¯t move. His mouth went dry, and he found he couldn¡¯t speak. Panic began to swell in his chest as he realized what was happening. Then, in the distance, a portal began to open, its swirling blackness beckoning. "See?" Ezren spoke again, his tone almost soothing. "Don¡¯t worry. I won¡¯t kill you." The rat-faced archer¡¯s eyes widened in terror as Ezren dragged him toward the portal, his legs heavy and unresponsive. His body refused to cooperate, and his mind screamed for escape, but it was too late.
The leader ran with all his might, his heart pounding in his chest. He glanced over his shoulder to see the Chimera hot on his heels, its snarls growing louder with every step. No matter how fast he ran, the beast was gaining on him, its monstrous form gaining on him with terrifying speed. I can¡¯t outrun it... The leader¡¯s thoughts raced. He knew he was running out of options. With the Chimera so close, he realized the inevitable. There was no escape. He had no choice but to make his last stand. He turned sharply, planting his feet firmly on the ground, preparing for the beast¡¯s final charge. The Chimera didn¡¯t slow. It lunged at him, its massive body soaring through the air, jaws snapping, claws outstretched. But the leader was ready. With a roar of defiance, he raised his sword and, as the beast came crashing toward him, he thrust it deep into the Chimera''s heart, twisting the blade with all his strength. He grinned, feeling the pressure of the sword sink in. I¡¯ve got you now, you monster... For a moment, he thought victory was his. He could feel the Chimera¡¯s heavy body pressing down on him, but he believed he had struck a killing blow. ¡°Hahaha!¡± he laughed, breathless. ¡°I got you! You¡¯re finished!¡± But then, something worse happened. The Chimera let out a low, guttural growl, one filled with pure rage. The leader¡¯s grin faltered as he realized the beast wasn¡¯t dead. Its massive, clawed paws dug into the earth as it slowly rose, the sword still lodged in its chest. The creature''s fangs bared, and it began to bite down on the leader with terrifying force. The leader gasped in shock as the beast clamped its jaws around his shoulder, pulling him toward its massive mouth. The pain was excruciating, and the leader struggled in vain. The sword, still embedded in the beast, was no longer enough to stop it. The Chimera continued to growl and bite, the life slowly being drained from the leader''s body. It wasn¡¯t over... and now, it was too late. Chapter 20: The plague doctor Chapter 20: The plague doctor Ezren closed the portal behind the rat-faced man, leaving him trembling on the other side. Without a moment''s hesitation, he extended his will toward the Chimera. "Bring back the body," he commanded silently, beast obeyed. The creature roared in acknowledgement and vanished into the distance. Turning to his loyal bird, Ezren issued another command. "Guide me back to the bear cave." As the bird took flight, Ezren allowed himself a moment of inner reflection. Without the bird, I¡¯d be utterly lost in these wilds. I need to learn to navigate better¡ªperhaps ask for some pointers at the guild. It¡¯s a skill I can¡¯t afford to ignore, he mused. A few minutes later, the bird led him to the spot where the bear lay paralyzed. The clearing was a macabre tableau¡ªdead bodies scattered around like discarded trinkets. Ezren surveyed the scene with a detached gaze. Back on Earth, I¡¯d sit in front of the TV and imagine different ways of ending it all¡ªkilling people, or even myself. Not that I was suicidal; it was more like a twisted daydream. I didn¡¯t really want to die, but I couldn¡¯t bear the thought of living either. It was an escape, a mental experiment. But here¡­ here I¡¯ve actually killed a group of people, and I feel nothing. No remorse, no elation. Just a cold, vacant satisfaction. Though, I suppose a small part of me is pleased¡ªI can repurpose their bodies, use them as new material. He paused, letting the weight of his reflection settle in the dim light. His mind recalled a line he¡¯d heard once: ¡°You can¡¯t reason with evil. Evil wants what it wants and won¡¯t stop until it¡¯s won, or until you kill it. The only way to kill it is to be meaner than evil. So the lesson is, learn how to be meaner than evil and still love your family, still enjoy a sunrise.¡± A slow, bitter laugh escaped him as he considered the irony. Why the heck do i think about this kind of stuff. The Chimera emerged from the underbrush, its massive paws dragging the bloodied body of the bandit leader like a doll. A low growl escaped its throat, proud and feral. Ezren nodded, his gaze shifting to the shifting, shimmering air before him. With a thought, the portal tore itself open. ¡°Drag all the corpse,¡± Ezren ordered. The Chimera obeyed, yanking the corpses through the portal. Ezren turned his attention to the wounded bear still thrashing weakly on the ground. Without hesitation, he drove his bone spike through the beast¡¯s skull, ending its struggles. He gripped the bear by its hind legs, muscles straining as he pushed the heavy corpse toward the portal. The Chimera assisted, its powerful jaws clamping down on the creature¡¯s shoulder to help haul it inside. Once within the flesh chamber, Graos awaited, his figure both unsettling and familiar. The monstrous entity¡¯s dark, ethereal tendrils coiled around the corpses, examining them with a twisted curiosity. ¡°Analyze them,¡± Ezren commanded. Graos¡¯s tendrils pierced the corpses of human and a bear, spreading through flesh and bone. They absorbed the body¡¯s traits, learning its structure, strength, and weaknesses. "Human... strong muscle, endurance, resilience. Physical power, mental strength. Bear... raw power, tough body, enhanced senses. Strength of nature, unmatched in force. Both... powerful in their own way. Potential... in each." ¡°Good. Now, cut off the bear¡¯s head.¡± Graos complied, severing the beast¡¯s head with a single swipe of his razor-sharp tendril. Ezren placed the dripping trophy into a burlap sack, his eyes narrowed with determination. Satisfied, he stepped through the portal, sealing it behind him. He trekked back to town beneath the waning daylight, his senses sharp, the sack swinging at his side. The bustling streets welcomed him with the familiar din of merchant calls and chatter. Once inside the Mercenary Guild, he approached the counter and tossed the bear¡¯s head onto the wooden surface. The clerk recoiled before regaining composure and nodding in approval. ¡°Job well done. Here¡¯s your reward,¡± the clerk said, sliding a pouch of coins toward him. Ezren pocketed the money and left the hall. Exhaustion tugged at his bones, but it was the good kind. The kind earned through blood and success. He rented a room at a nearby inn, the sheets coarse but the mattress forgiving enough. He allowed sleep to claim him. When he woke, darkness had settled over the town. A glance at the shabby wall clock told him it was around ten at night. Ezren stretched, his muscles refreshed, and smirked to himself. The night was still young. He made his way out of the inn, boots clicking against the cobblestone streets as he headed toward the brothel. Inside, the air was thick with perfume and hushed whispers. After scanning the selection, he settled on a slender, cute woman, standing at about 5''4. Her price was 6 silver, with an additional 3 silver for the room. He followed her upstairs, the door shutting behind them as he allowed himself to enjoy the pleasures of the evening. I was wrong to think that the dangers of the world could overshadow the simple pleasures of life. After making sweet love to the fine girl at the brothel, I found solace in her embrace. Her warmth enveloped me like a comforting blanket, easing the tension that had built up during my recent battles. The night had been filled with laughter and shared stories, a reprieve from the harsh realities of my life. As I lay there, my heart slowed, and the weight of the world seemed to lift, if only for a moment. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to drift into a peaceful sleep, cocooned in the safety of her arms. In the stillness of the room, I felt a sense of contentment wash over me. The memories of the bandits and the struggles ahead faded into the background, replaced by the gentle rise and fall of her breath beside me. This fleeting moment of intimacy was a reminder that even in a life filled with chaos, there were still moments of beauty worth cherishing. The serenity of the moment shattered as screams and the sound of burning houses echoed outside the window. Panic surged within me as I realized that the plague was no coincidence¡ªthere was indeed a warlock among us, and now ghouls were attacking the city.
After hearing whispers of a devastating plague sweeping through the kingdom, Danica felt an undeniable pull to the source of this suffering. Fueled by her hatred of disease and her desire to understand it better, she traveled to the afflicted land, treat those who is in need and determined to collect samples of the new pathogen. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Upon arriving in the town after healing the villages in the south of this kingdom, she goes to a inn. The faint warmth of the hearth in the corner of the inn cast flickering shadows across the walls as Danica sat at a small, weathered wooden table, a bowl of stew steaming before her. The innkeeper, a portly man with a round face and graying hair, set down a loaf of bread and a mug of watered-down ale. ¡°Here you are, miss. A warm meal after a long journey,¡± he said, his voice thick with the local accent. Danica offered a small nod, her violet eyes already scanning the room, the dark mana within her always alert. As she began to break the bread, she tilted her head slightly, studying the innkeeper. ¡°Tell me,¡± she said, her voice cold and measured. ¡°What¡¯s the news of this kingdom? Anything of note?¡± The innkeeper, accustomed to travelers seeking the latest gossip, wiped his hands on his apron and leaned in closer, lowering his voice. ¡°Ah, well, there¡¯s been talk of the warlock who died last week. Quite the event, that one. They say he was a powerful mage, dark and dangerous. Last I heard, they took his body to the church, real hush-hush about it, like they¡¯re trying to keep it quiet.¡± Danica¡¯s eyes narrowed imperceptibly, her mind already calculating. She continued to eat, her voice unfaltering. ¡°A warlock? You say he died. What caused it?¡± ¡°Some sort of fight, they say. No one knows the full details, but the rumors... well, they¡¯ve been saying it was an ambush. Some say he got what he deserved, others think it¡¯s strange. No one really knows what happened in those last moments. But that body, the church is keeping it locked up tight. That¡¯s all I know.¡± Danica took a slow, deliberate bite of her stew, her expression still unreadable. She didn¡¯t show any sign of surprise or concern, merely listening. Her mind wandered, considering the possibilities. The warlock¡¯s death, the church¡¯s secrecy... something about it felt wrong. The plague wasn¡¯t arcane. But why would they be hiding his body? She placed a small pouch of coins on the table, her fingers brushing over the leather as she passed it to the innkeeper. ¡°For your trouble,¡± she said in a flat tone. The innkeeper looked down at the coins, his eyes widening slightly at the generous tip. ¡°Thank you, miss,¡± he said, nodding quickly. ¡°If you need anything else, you just let me know.¡± Danica gave a small, imperceptible nod, dismissing him without another word. She finished her meal in silence, her mind still occupied with thoughts of the warlock¡¯s death and the church¡¯s involvement. Once she was done, she rose from the table, her movements smooth and deliberate. The innkeeper, distracted by the other patrons, didn¡¯t notice her slip upstairs to her room. The door creaked softly as she entered, locking it behind her. The bed was simple, but it would suffice. Danica carefully removed her cloak, hanging it on the back of the door before she climbed into bed. The quiet darkness of the room enveloped her as she lay there, her eyes staring into the dark. She wasn¡¯t tired¡ªnot really¡ªbut she allowed herself to rest, knowing she would need her strength for tonight. As night fell, she found a secluded spot on the outskirts of the town. With a practiced motion, she opened her storage portal high above her, dropping a grim cargo of one hundred corpses onto the streets below. The lifeless bodies thudded against the ground, creating a grotesque tableau of death. Without hesitation, Danica raised her hand and began pulling dark mana into the air, forming a massive magic circle above the fallen bodies. Unlike Ezren, whose dark mana flowed like liquid, hers moved like air¡ªeffortless and omnipresent, an extension of her very being. The intricate runes of the magic circle pulsed with raw necrotic energy, illuminating the streets with an eerie glow. Dark energy surged downward, flooding the corpses with unholy power. Their lifeless forms began to seize and convulse, their flesh blackening as the corruption took hold. One by one, the dead were reborn, their vacant eyes flaring with unnatural hunger as they twisted and reformed into ghouls. As her army of undead rose, Danica didn¡¯t linger to admire her work. The ghouls, now unleashed, would serve their purpose¡ªsowing chaos and diverting attention. Without looking back, she turned on her heel and strode toward the church, her violet eyes gleaming with dark intent. The real prize awaited her there
Ezren I turned to the woman beside me, urgency in my voice. ¡°Stay in the room.¡± She nodded, fear evident in her eyes. Grabbing my dagger, I rushed toward the door, the sounds of chaos growing louder. As I stepped into the hallway, I was met with a horrifying sight: ghouls attacking the thugs guarding the brothel, their grotesque forms moving with unnatural speed. The thugs fought back valiantly, wielding heavy maces, but even as they crushed the ghouls'' heads, the creatures kept coming, relentless and unyielding. Five guards fell to just two ghouls, their lifeless bodies sprawled across the floor. ¡°What the hell are they here for?¡± I muttered under my breath, frustration boiling within me. From my vantage point on the second floor, I felt the adrenaline surge within me as I prepared for the fight. I focused, spreading my dark mana throughout my body, feeling the power coursing through my veins, ready to unleash it in an instant. Suddenly, the ghouls turned their attention to me, one rushing up the stairs. With a swift motion, I kicked the advancing ghoul hard in the chest, sending it tumbling backward. It crashed to the floor, disoriented but not yet defeated. It¡¯s undead, right? Might as well try. I gathered liquid mana in my hands, shaping it into a magic circle for the spell branding, one for each hand. As the glowing runes took form, I hurled the first toward the downed ghoul. A sudden drain of mana left me , but I could feel a connection linking me to the creature. It worked. Grinning, I commanded the ghoul to seize the remaining enemy. As it struggled against its grasp, I threw another brand at the hostile ghoul. Laughter bubbled up as the connection snapped into place. They were now mine¡ªeach sharing a portion of my control, 15% to each. Without hesitation, I opened a portal and ordered the ghouls to drag the fallen brothel guards inside. Their bodies would serve a better purpose. Once they were secured, I formed another magic circle when a noise caught my attention from one of the rooms. Kicking open the door, I found another ghoul, fresh from killing a customer and the prostitute he was with. Without hesitation, I threw another brand, binding it to me. The new servant obeyed my command, dragging both corpses into the portal. My eyes caught sight of the dead man¡¯s coin purse on the floor¡ªI snatched it and tossed it into the portal as well. No sense in wasting resources. After a quick sweep of the brothel, ensuring no more threats lurked within, I headed to the kitchen. Opening the portal once more, I ransacked everything¡ªfood, spices, barrels, kitchenware¡ªevery last useful item disappeared into the void. With the spoils secured, I commanded the ghouls to enter the portal before closing it behind them. With my work complete, I returned to the room I had rented. The girl was no longer in bed. A quick glance around revealed her hiding beneath it, eyes wide with fear. As I entered my room, I noticed the girl I had spent the night with hiding under the bed, her eyes wide with fear. I knelt down, meeting her gaze. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± I whispered softly, trying to reassure her. ¡°You¡¯re safe here.¡± I stood up and moved to the window, peering outside. The scene that unfolded before me was one of chaos. Ghouls swarmed the streets, their grotesque forms attacking anyone in their path. Soldiers, mercenaries, and even priests fought back against the undead menace, dispatching the ghouls with practiced efficiency. The sounds of clashing steel and the cries of battle filled the air. As I watched the defenders cut down the ghouls with relative ease, a question nagged at the back of my mind. Was it merely a coincidence that the town was under siege, or was there truly a warlock behind the spread of this plague? The notion unsettled me; I could almost feel the dark presence lurking just beyond my reach. The night stretched on, filled with the sounds of conflict and chaos outside. We remained hidden, waiting for the danger to pass. The girl stayed silent, watching me from her refuge beneath the bed, her fear palpable but tempered by the safety of the room.
The chaos erupted as the ghouls began their assault, drawing the attention of the town¡¯s defenders. Cries of panic filled the air as citizens fled from the relentless onslaught, and guards scrambled to combat the emerging threat. In the ensuing turmoil, Danica slipped through the shadows toward the church¡¯s cellar, where Orin¡¯s master lay. She moved swiftly, her heart racing with anticipation. The ghouls distracted the guards, and as she reached the door, she felt the thrill of her impending success. Once inside, she located the warlock¡¯s body, its power palpable even in death. With determination, she opened her storage portal again and carefully placed Orin¡¯s master¡¯s body inside, ensuring it was secured for her journey. With the body safely stored, Danica exited the church, her heart filled with triumph. She had acquired the vessel she needed to further her ambitions. As the sounds of chaos continued to echo behind her, she vanished into the night, leaving the town to its fate and carrying away the prize she had sought for so long. Chapter 21: Learning new thing and making new things Chapter 21: learning new thing and making new things As dawn approached, the noises outside began to change. The sounds of combat faded, replaced by the tired voices of the surviving defenders as they tended to the wounded and cleared the streets of the fallen ghouls. The morning light began to filter through the window, casting a pale glow over the room. ¡°Let¡¯s wait a little longer,¡± I said, not yet ready to face the aftermath of the night¡¯s horrors. The girl nodded, her expression softening as she realized that the immediate danger had passed. Finally, as the sounds outside settled into a cautious calm, I turned to her. ¡°We should see what happened,¡± I suggested, feeling a mix of trepidation and determination. With the first rays of sunlight spilling into the room, we prepared to face whatever awaited us outside, knowing that the truth behind the attack¡ªand the potential dark mage¡ªstill lingered in the shadows. Morning arrived with the stench of smoke and death. Ezren stepped out of the inn, squinting against the harsh daylight. The town still bore the scars of the previous night¡¯s attack. The western district was in ruins¡ªblackened buildings, collapsed rooftops, and streets littered with charred debris. Workers struggled to clear the wreckage, dragging bodies toward carts bound for the cemetery. The heavy presence of guards and mercenaries kept the uneasy citizens in check, but their grim faces made it clear¡ªmorale was crumbling. Above the murmurs of the crowd, a soldier on horseback called out, his voice booming across the square. "By order of the church and city guard, the town is under lockdown! No one is to leave without an official pass from the clergy!" Ezren sighed, glancing toward the church. A long line had already formed outside its towering doors, a mix of merchants, travelers, and desperate townsfolk waiting for their turn to beg for an exit permit. Some shouted, others pleaded, but the priests remained unmoved. Not worth the trouble. He turned back toward the inn, heading inside. A simple breakfast awaited him¡ªa plate of eggs and bread, washed down with watered-down ale. Once finished, he returned to his room, locking the door behind him before opening the portal to the flesh-forged cavern. Stepping inside, he surveyed the corpses he had gathered from the brothel. There he instruct graos to analyze the ghoul. he did and give tell detail. "Undead. Mutation from dark mana... the skin¡¯s decaying, but the physical strength it retains is impressive. Their regeneration is fueled by Cannibalistic Hunger. Exceptional sense of smell, particularly for blood or dark mana.Can spread toxins or plagues through bites or scratches, making them dangerous even when not physically overpowering. weakness fire and holy mana. After he heard Graos explanation he rifled through their belongings. The thug¡¯s pouch contained a few silver coins¡ªafter counting, a total of 47 silver. Then, he checked the customer¡¯s pouch, his eyes widening slightly at the weight of the bag. ¡°Damn, this guy was rich.¡± Inside, he found 10 silver and 15 gold coins. after that Ezren sat cross-legged near a corpse, his fingers lightly brushing against the cold, lifeless bodies scattered around him. The air was thick with the faint, residual remnants of death¡ªdark mana, the essence of decay and violence. His thoughts drifted as he inspected the various corpses, but something nagged at the back of his mind. There must be a better way to absorb this energy, he thought. "Graos," he muttered, focusing inward. "Is there a more efficient way to siphon this dark energy from these bodies?" The voice of Graos, as cold and analytical as ever, echoed in his mind. "Yes.energy deteriorates. Requires refinement. Process inefficient. Vessel needed for optimized absorption." Ezren¡¯s brow furrowed. "A vessel? What do you mean?" "Dark energy... byproduct of death. Destruction. Termination of life essence. More violent death... greater potency. Brutal acts¡ªripping, tearing, crushing¡ªrelease stronger energy. Chaotic. Unstable. Intense emotions¡ªfear, rage, despair¡ªexponential amplification. Amplification... critical. Raw energy... volatile. Dangerous. Residual echoes... remnants of trauma. Emotional imprint left behind. Curses. Supernatural phenomena. Manifestations of anguish, hatred, sorrow. Persistent. Lingering. Harvesting dark energy... risky. Requires precision. Stability. Inefficient harvest... corruption inevitable. Corruption... slow degradation of sanity. Emotionally compromised. Humanity... stripped away. Potential applications... power. Destruction. Control. But wielding dark energy... consuming. Mind deteriorates. Purpose... distorted. Result... inevitable madness. . Residue, yes, but not easily drawn. Requires conduit to increase yield. Vessel channels energy. Without vessel, inefficient, slow." Ezren¡¯s curiosity grew. "So, you''re saying there''s something specific I can use to draw this energy more effectively?" "Correct," Graos replied, detached. "Bone. Receptacle. Bone absorbs energy. Refined method." Before Ezren could ask more, the ground beneath him shifted. A low rumble, followed by the floor cracking open in a sharp line. A magic circle began to glow beneath him, its symbols dark and pulsing with energy. "What is this?" Ezren muttered, his heart quickening with interest. "Conduit formed," Graos stated, devoid of emotion. "Bone prepared. Energy drawn." The symbols on the circle flashed, and Ezren reached down, grabbing a small bone fragment. He placed it in the center of the magic circle, his fingers brushing against the cool surface. The bone began to hum, drawing the dark energy toward it. The circle flickered, lighting up with even greater intensity as Ezren¡¯s voice slipped into chant. "Process activated," Graos noted. "Energy transfer begins." The air seemed to tighten as the energy swirled around the room, coalescing and focusing into the magic circle. Ezren could feel the shift¡ªthe dark mana was no longer chaotic. It was being drawn inward, funneled like a vacuum into the bone at the center. The bone vibrated with power as it absorbed the energy. Ezren felt it¡ªthe raw power surging through the bone. It was as if he could taste the energy, the life force of death itself, rushing into the bone like a flood. He exhaled slowly, his eyes widening with awe. "This... this is incredible!" he said, feeling the surge of dark energy flowing through the bone. "Energy absorbed. Efficiency optimized," Graos stated, his tone still cold and impassive. "Process completed." Ezren, still holding the bone, turned to Graos with a sense of wonder. "Why didn¡¯t you tell me about this earlier?" There was a long, mechanical pause before Graos responded. "You never asked." Ezren sighed and shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "I guess that¡¯s on me, then." Ezren stared at the bone in his hand, now pulsing with raw, undiluted dark energy. The dark mana swirled inside the bone, crackling with a palpable intensity, a constant reminder of the power it contained. His mind raced as he contemplated its potential. How can I harness this power to increase my mana pool? He turned inward, seeking guidance. "Graos," he asked, his voice laced with curiosity, "how do I harness this to increase my mana pool?" The voice of Graos was as detached as ever, a stark contrast to Ezren''s eager tone. "Consume," Graos replied coldly, "Energy absorbed. Assimilate. Meditate. Focus. But not now." Ezren blinked, a little taken aback. "Not now? Why?" Graos¡¯ voice came again, precise and methodical. "Energy from bone does not increase mana pool. Temporary power. It is... external. Energy must be refined, used for further growth. Increase potency, feed bone with more energy." Ezren¡¯s brow furrowed as he absorbed the information. "So, I shouldn''t use it right away to expand my mana pool?" "Correct," Graos replied, unemotional. "Save energy. Feed more dark energy into the bone. Increase its potency. When bone reaches optimal capacity, then use. Mana pool will increase from accumulation, but only after process is complete." Ezren¡¯s gaze lingered on the bone, now pulsing faintly with dark power. The promise of greater strength¡ªif he was patient. Patience... that¡¯s always the key, isn¡¯t it? "Understood," Ezren murmured. "I''ll let it accumulate. How much more dark energy should I feed it?" "Unlimited. The more it absorbs, the more potent it becomes. Draw energy from corpses, from decay, from darkness itself. Bone becomes the vessel of power." The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. Ezren nodded, a flicker of anticipation in his chest. "Alright, Graos. I''ll do that." "Good," Graos intoned flatly. "Efficiency requires time. Patience is necessary for results." Ezren couldn¡¯t help but feel a quiet sense of satisfaction. This method of refining the energy was both simple and logical¡ªjust another piece of the puzzle in his growing understanding of how to wield dark mana. With a final glance at the bone, he set it down carefully on a nearby stone slab, feeling the faint hum of power still radiating from it. Ezren turned his gaze back to the undead that stood lifeless before him. The dark mana that had once animated them was now his to reclaim. With a steady breath, he focused on the energy still lingering in their decaying forms. The mana was embedded deep within them, but it was his¡ªhe had put it there, and now it was time to draw it back. He extended his senses inward, feeling the lock on his own mana pool. For a time, he had struggled to access the full depth of his power, held back by a barrier of his own making¡ªsomething he had learned to tolerate but never quite overcome. Now, with his focus sharp and his determination clear, he channeled the dark mana from the undead directly into his own core. The energy from the creatures flowed into him, and with each pulse, the lock on his mana began to loosen. It was a slow, almost imperceptible process at first, but as the mana from the undead surged back into him, the restraint that had hindered his strength began to fade. His mana pool expanded, no longer constrained by the limits he had once accepted. Ezren could feel it. His strength returning, his power growing as the dark mana surged through his veins. The undead around him, now empty of the energy they once held, stood motionless, mere shells. But Ezren felt his body hum with life, his power rejuvenated by the very magic he had infused into them. The lock that had kept him from fully accessing his strength was gone, and now, with each moment, Ezren could feel his connection to the dark mana deepen, his power more accessible than ever before. ¡°Graos,¡± he commanded with unwavering authority, ¡°forge me a new creature". Ezren tell the detail Werewolf ( a fake werewolf) Graos responded immediately, its tendrils coiling around the chimera and bear corpse dragging them into the churning depths of the Sinew Pool. The dark, viscous substance rippled and bubbled, threads of sinew reaching upward like grasping roots. Ezren mana got suck up to his tattoo. The sinew pool churned under Graos command. The air grew thick with the acrid scent of decay and the sharp tang of magic. Slowly, the corpse began to tremble, the bones shifting beneath the skin like an old, broken structure finally coming to life. The skeletal frame of the beast twisted and reformed. The bones stretched, contorted, and reassembled, slowly reshaping themselves into the towering, lupine structure of the werewolf. Every joint groaned and cracked as if it were both awakening and forming anew. The ribs, once brittle and hollow, thickened, expanded, and solidified into the powerful, muscular framework of a creature of unimaginable strength. "Nine essences. Merged. Combined. Perfected. Frog essence¡ªregeneration. Tissue repair¡ªimmediate. Wounds heal rapidly. Survival maximized. Rapid adaptation. Rabbit essence¡ªagility. Reflex speed¡ªenhanced. Leg structure¡ªreinforced. Sprint¡ªeffortless. Speed¡ªunmatched. Terrain adaptation¡ªseamless. Bear essence¡ªstrength. Muscle density¡ªgreater. Bones¡ªreinforced. Endurance¡ªunlimited. Power¡ªabsolute. Human essence¡ªintelligence. Strategy. Coordination¡ªimproved. Communication¡ªpossible. Complex thought¡ªfunctioning. Bird essence¡ªheightened senses. Vision¡ªprecise. Hearing¡ªacute. Reactions¡ªinstantaneous. Leaping¡ªgreater range. Mobility¡ªadvanced. Wolf essence¡ªinstinct. Combat efficiency. Reflexive behavior¡ªenhanced. Claws¡ªsharpened. Teeth¡ªrazor-sharp. Pack mentality¡ªheightened. Turtle essence¡ªdefensive trait. Skin¡ªreinforced. Armor-like. Durable. Resistant to damage. Protect¡ªvital organs. Snake essence¡ªadaptation. Tentacle-like appendage¡ªemerges. Flexible. Venomous¡ªbasilisk poison. Paralysis¡ªimmediate. Corrosive. Deadly. Ghoul essence¡ªregeneration. Consumption of flesh¡ªrequired. Healing¡ªaccelerated. Strength¡ªrestored. Lifeforce¡ªabsorbed. Survival¡ªguaranteed. Combine. Refine. Enhance. Result¡ªultimate predator. Speed. Strength. Intelligence. Survival. Power¡ªunmatched. Testing¡ªnecessary. Failures¡ªirrelevant. Constant evolution¡ªmandatory. Perfection¡ªinevitable." Then, with an almost grotesque fluidity, the flesh began to emerge¡ªat first thin, translucent, and pulsing with raw energy. It slithered and grew over the bones, weaving together like threads of a macabre tapestry, the sinew stretching to fit the reshaped structure. Slowly, it thickened, solidifying into the sinewy, dark fur that covered the creature¡¯s form¡ªeach strand a twisted reflection of the creature''s primal essence. The beast¡¯s eyes began to burn with a flicker of recognition, an intelligent, hungry gaze that spoke of cunning far beyond simple animal instinct. Muscles rippled beneath the surface of its fur, the creature¡¯s strength returning with a sickening crack of bones and a slow, sinister groan. The transformation was far from elegant, yet it was breathtaking in its power. The dead chimera was no longer a corpse, but a living, breathing monstrosity¡ªa werewolf, reborn from the remnants of death, now bound to the will of its creators. Graos. ¡° creature complete¡± dire wolf chimera to Werewolf chimera(new additional trait: bear muscular streghth, human like intellect, ghoul regeneration) Graos: Werewolf chimera Overall Appearance: Graos is a towering, formidable figure, standing 8 feet tall. New trait: Human intellect, Ghoul regeneration, Bear muscle Strength. its body a hulking mass of sinewy muscle covered in patchy, matted fur. Its wolf-like head is stretched into a nightmarish snarl, eyes burning with a feral, unnatural glow, while jagged fangs protrude from a mouth that seems to grin even when at rest. what sets this werewolf apart from mere lycanthropic horror is the writhing mass of snake-like tendrils sprouting from its back. These serpentine appendages coil and lash with a mind of their own, covered in glistening black scales and ending in razor-sharp fangs or hooked barbs. Some are thick and muscular, capable of crushing prey, while others are whip-like, striking with terrifying speed. Its claws are elongated, more like talons than simple wolf claws, curved and serrated to tear flesh from bone effortlessly. After meditation he cast Reanimation and Branding to the werewolf. Ezren¡¯s eyes gleamed with a mixture of awe and ruthless satisfaction as the newly reanimated creature rose from its unholy slumber. The werewolf''s form was massive, towering, and exuding raw power. Its muscles rippled beneath skin that was armor-like, a hardened exterior resembling that of a turtle''s shell, yet dark and sleek like polished stone. It was as if the beast wore its defenses openly for all to see, a deadly combination of strength and protection. A low, guttural howl tore through the cavern, reverberating off ancient stone and igniting a ripple of energy in the stagnant air. The howl was both a declaration of life reclaimed from death and a harbinger of the raw power now harnessed by Ezren. Every beat of its monstrous heart seemed to pulse in time with the lingering dark mana¡ªa heartbeat that promised carnage, yet hinted at cunning intelligence. Ezren¡¯s mind raced with possibilities. The creature¡¯s form was a perfect fusion of feral might and calculated intellect: the brute strength of a bear melded with the cunning of man, while ghoul-like regenerative capabilities ensured its endurance on the battlefield. Now, with the branding still glowing upon its flesh¡ªa sigil of unyielding loyalty¡ªit was not merely a beast reborn, but a living weapon forged in the crucible of decay and power. 50% mana lock.
New ritual required The Rite of Convergence is a dark ritual designed to gather and store volatile dark energy within a vessel, typically a bone fragment, placed at the center of a carefully inscribed magic circle. The circle, etched with symbols representing death, absorption, and refinement, serves as a conduit that draws in dark energy from the surroundings¡ªespecially from places tainted by death or suffering. To initiate the ritual, the practitioner places the vessel within the circle and begins a focused chant, a rhythmic invocation that stabilizes and directs the energy toward the vessel. As the chant progresses, the circle glows with a pulsing darkness, its symbols throbbing like a heartbeat as the energy is siphoned and funneled into the vessel. The process concludes when the vessel hums with a steady, controlled vibration, indicating that the dark energy has been successfully absorbed and stored, ready for future refinement or use.
Dark energy is a unique and powerful force that embodies the darker aspects of magic, derived exclusively from the death of living beings. Its potency is influenced by the circumstances surrounding each death, particularly the brutality of the act and the emotional state of the deceased at the time of their passing.

1. Death as the Catalyst

2. Emotional Resonance

3. Amplification Effects

Dire wolf chimera to Werewolf Chimera (fake werewolf) Appearance: Behavior: chapter 22 Swamp village After ezren looking at his new magic ritual he is thinking of how increasing his power. Orin''s teacher possesses the talent to reach Level 5 as a mage, but his knowledge of dark magic is severely lacking. I know his a warrior type but common. Ezren want to increase his powers and he look at paralyze enemy he brought. Ezren¡¯s cold voice broke through the stillness, slicing through the heavy silence like a blade. "Torture him,", his words laced with a cruel finality. "For an entire day. Break him, Graos. Make him wish for death before it comes." Graos¡¯s expression remained unflinching as he acknowledged the command. With deliberate motion, he extended one of his tendrils, its tip curling gently against the man¡¯s skull. The soft tissue yielded under its pressure, and the tendril pierced effortlessly, stopping just shy of the brain¡¯s surface. A faint crackling sound filled the air as it made contact with the fragile folds of grey matter, grazing the outer cortex. The man¡¯s breath hitched, his mind screaming for relief, but his body could not respond. The tendril released a pulse of agonizing energy, triggering waves of intense pain that reverberated through his mind. Graos knew the anatomy of the human body too well, careful to strike only at the edges of the brain where the agony would be unbearable but not lethal. The man¡¯s face contorted in silent screams, his body frozen, unable to move, trapped within his own pain. Graos reveled in the control he had over his victim¡¯s suffering, each pulse of energy pushing the man to the brink of his endurance without crossing the line into death. Ezren stood a few paces behind them, his silhouette looming like a dark specter. He watched with cold satisfaction, his face betraying no emotion, save for a slight smirk curling at the corners of his lips. After a long silence, he spoke again, his voice thick with finality. "I will leave you to your work, Graos. When the day is done, kill him, and activate the magic circle to harvest the dark energy from his corpse." Ezren leaves and go down the inn for dinner. As Ezren sat , enjoying his meal, the savory flavors of roasted meat and warm bread brought a sense of comfort. He chewed slowly, savoring each bite, and the chatter of the tavern faded into the background. His stomach was full, and for the moment, the worries of the world seemed far away. The gossip around him didn¡¯t seem as urgent now, his focus more on the simple pleasure of the meal before him. He leaned back in his chair, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. For once, there was peace in his day, and he allowed himself to enjoy it fully. A sense of contentment washed over him as he took another bite, completely unaware that the events unfolding around him would soon disrupt his calm. As Ezren continued to eat, he overheard another snippet of conversation from a group of people seated behind him, their voices low but growing more urgent with each passing word. Tavern Patron 1 : "Did you hear? The inquisitors are coming back because of the ghoal attack last night." Tavern Patron 2: "That''s right. It was a massacre. They say the ghoals came out of nowhere, tearing through the outskirts of town. It¡¯s bad, real bad." Tavern Patron 1: "The mayor can''t just let this slide. That''s why he''s called the inquisitor back. I hear he¡¯s going to hunt down anyone involved¡ªghoal or not." Tavern Patron 2 (glancing around nervously): "People are scared. The whole town¡¯s on edge. And the inquisitor... well, he won¡¯t stop until he¡¯s found the cause of all this, even if it means digging into places people don¡¯t want him to." Ezren''s fork froze mid-air as the mention of the ghoal attack caught his full attention. The mention of an inquisitor sent a chill down his spine. It wasn¡¯t just the creatures that had attacked; it was the fact that the inquisitor was coming back¡ªa sure sign that something far more complex and dangerous was at play. His thoughts raced as he listened, his meal now forgotten, the simple comfort of food slipping away. He got back to his room and sleep. In the early morning he open the portal once more. he cast reanimation and branding spell to the two ghouls. then leave his weapon in here. Afterward, Ezren left the inn and made his way to the church to obtain the pass. His plan succeeded¡ªthe priest didnt detect dark mana from him because of the mana lock from his undead creatures. With the pass secured, Ezren headed to the mercenary hall. He scanned the bulletin board, his eyes narrowing as he found a notice from a merchant seeking porters and guards for a journey to the swamp northwest of the town. He approached the clerk, asking, ¡°Is this job still available?¡± The clerk nodded. ¡°Yes, it is. You¡¯re hired. The departure is tomorrow, and the meeting point is the north gate of the town.¡± Ezren nodded, his business settled. He left the guild, returned to the inn, and enjoyed a quiet meal before retreating to his room. There, he opened the portal back to the forge, ready to continue his work. Erzen look at the man being tortured and command graos to end him. Graos stab the brain and the man die. Graos perform the Rite of Convergence and harvest he dark energy from the tortured man. Ezren stepped back, his eyes cold as he surveyed the body before him. The bones, now glowing faintly with the dark energy they contained, confirmed it. This was the key. The pain had been the fuel, and it had worked. More energy, more power. He didn¡¯t feel triumph, nor guilt. It was simply another step in the process. Another calculation in the dark path he had chosen. While in the forge he also drain the dark mana from the ghoul returning his powers. (available mana pool 41%). and stepout and sleep. "In the morning, Ezren settled the remaining balance with the innkeeper, who wished him good luck as he informed him of his departure." Ezren arrived at the designated meeting place. The air was crisp, the streets still waking as merchants and travelers prepared for the day ahead. At the gathering point, he found the one who had posted the escort request¡ªa well-dressed merchant with sharp eyes and a cautious demeanor. Surrounding him were the hired guards: four swordsmen clad in leather and chainmail, two archers with well-worn bows slung across their backs, and the porters¡ªfour in total, including Ezren himself. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. The merchant wasted no time in organizing the group. ¡°No carriages,¡± he said firmly, adjusting the straps of his pack. ¡°The swamp roads are impossible for wheels. We go on foot.¡± Ezren grabbed the assigned supplies, securing them to his pack, and fell in line with the others as they set off toward the north. Their first stop was the mining village¡ªa grueling nine-hour trek along the worn road. The path stretched ahead, flanked by dense woodland, and the occasional distant howl reminded them they were not alone. Conversation was sparse, but Ezren listened carefully. The swordsmen walked with practiced ease, exchanging quiet remarks about past jobs. The archers scanned the tree line, their eyes sharp and wary. The merchant, despite his noble attire, moved with the hardened grace of someone who had traveled dangerous roads before. By dusk, they reached the mining village¡ªa settlement nestled between rocky outcroppings and deep forest. The group settled into an inn for the night, eating a simple meal of bread and stew before retiring to their rooms. The next morning, they resumed their journey, heading west toward the swamp village. The air grew thicker as they ventured deeper into the marshland, humidity clinging to their skin. The terrain became treacherous¡ªmud sucking at their boots, insects buzzing relentlessly. Midway through the trek, goblins ambushed them from the undergrowth. A flurry of shrieks and rustling foliage signaled their attack, but the escort guards reacted swiftly. The swordsmen formed a defensive line, blades flashing in the dim light, while the archers took to higher ground, loosing arrows into the fray. The battle was brief. Within minutes, the goblins lay dead, their ragged weapons clattering onto the damp earth. The merchant barely spared them a glance before pressing the group forward. As nightfall descended, the swamp village came into view¡ªdim lanterns swaying from wooden posts, casting flickering reflections over the stagnant waters. Relief settled over the group as they entered the town, weary but unharmed. The merchant distributed payment without delay, handing Ezren his share. With the job complete, he wasted no time in finding the local inn, stepping inside just as the rain began to drizzle outside.For now, he would rest. In the morning, Ezren rose from his bed and made his way to the inn''s common room, where a simple breakfast awaited him. He ate in silence, the warmth of the meal grounding him momentarily before he left the inn. Stepping out into the cool morning air, he took a slow, measured walk around the swamp village, taking in the sights. The village was surrounded by long wooden walls, with watchtowers standing tall at intervals. The faint smell of damp wood and earth lingered in the air. Ezren moved toward the small market area where the villagers peddled their goods. He found a merchant with a variety of dried meats hanging from a stall, their rich, smoky scent tempting his senses. Ezren eyed the large barrels of dried meat, inspecting them with practiced precision. He nodded, signaling his interest. ¡°I¡¯ll buy this whole barrel of dry meat and send it to the room of the inn im staying,¡± Ezren said flatly, placing a handful of coins on the counter. The merchant, a burly man with a thick beard, looked at him with a raised brow. ¡°That¡¯s a lot of dried meat, friend,¡± the merchant said, eyeing the barrel with a smirk. ¡°Planning to feed an army?¡± Ezren simply nodded, as if this was a normal purchase. Then ask how to dry meat. ¡°Well, if you plan on drying your own meat, there¡¯s a process to it," the merchant continued, leaning in slightly as though about to share a secret. "First, you need to cure the meat with salt¡ªlots of salt. Once that''s done, hang it in a cool, dry place with plenty of air circulation. The key is making sure it doesn¡¯t rot, so ventilation is vital. If you¡¯re in a humid place, you¡¯ll want to hang it somewhere it won''t absorb moisture. A smokehouse works best for longer preservation.¡± Ezren listened intently, his mind already noting the details. ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind,¡± he murmured, his eyes flicking over to the other goods. The merchant, sensing that Ezren was a man of few words, simply nodded and watched him move on. Ezren wandered over to the herb stalls next, eyes scanning the array of dried plants and leaves for anything useful. Without hesitation, he bought every type of herb on display¡ªhis purse clinking with a single gold coin¡¯s worth of purchases. Afterward, Ezren returned to his room at the inn and, with practiced hands, opened the portal to the forge. He pulled from the Book of Poisons for Beginners, an old, tattered tome filled with detailed instructions on various poisons and how to create them.
Ezren followed these steps with precision. He used the herbs he had gathered, grinding and mixing them in the manner described in the book. The process was meticulous, but he had plenty of time. He repeated the procedure for three days, perfecting his poison-making skills, until he had a sufficient supply of the deadly concoction. After completing his work, Ezren took his vials of poison, tucked them carefully into his cloak, and headed out. His destination was the front of the town hall, where a large bulletin board was plastered with various notices. One of the posters caught his eye¡ªa call for anyone interested in collecting rare herbs from the marshlands. ¡°Can I hire a guide?¡± Ezren asked. The clerk nodded and gestured toward a man seated near the entrance. ¡°That¡¯s Mark. He¡¯s lived in the swamp for years. Knows it better than anyone.¡± Ezren approached the man. ¡°I need a guide to help me find these herbs.¡± Mark glanced at the mission details and smirked. ¡°Three silver.¡± Ezren raised an eyebrow. ¡°That¡¯s too much.¡± Mark leaned back, folding his arms. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be giving you more than just directions. I¡¯ll make sure you don¡¯t step into a snake pit, drown in quicksand, or get eaten by something nasty. And considering where we¡¯re going, that¡¯s worth the price.¡± Ezren considered it, then nodded. ¡°Fine.¡± After paying the guide, they set out into the swamp. Mark proved to be knowledgeable, pointing out landmarks and teaching Ezren how to navigate the maze-like terrain. ¡°If you see a cloth tied to a branch, check the tree trunk below it. There should be markings¡ªthose tell you where you are and where the village is.¡± He also gave a warning. ¡°Watch out for bugs and snakes. Always carry antivenom.¡± As they waded deeper into the murky landscape, Mark explained the real danger. ¡°Orcs have been spotted west of the swamp, near the mountains. They¡¯ve set up camp, and their patrols have been pushing further east. The place we¡¯re headed? It used to be safe, but ever since the orcs started expanding, herbalists have been getting killed. That¡¯s why no one gathers there anymore.¡± Ezren took in the information silently. It was clear the noble overseeing this village had no interest in dealing with the growing threat. They reached the herb-gathering site and got to work. The area was lush with rare plants, their medicinal properties valuable to alchemists and healers. They collected their fill, but as they were about to leave, Mark suddenly tensed. ¡°Hide,¡± he whispered, dropping low into the muddy water. He pulled out a straw and bit down on it, using it to breathe while submerged. Ezren followed suit, pressing himself into the wet earth. Moments later, three orcs appeared, trudging through the shallow waters. They carried crude weapons and looked alert. Ezren briefly considered taking them down but decided against it¡ªMark was still here. He remained motionless as the patrol passed. Minutes later, the danger was gone. Mark emerged from the mud, spitting out the straw. ¡°That was close,¡± he muttered. They hurried back to the village without further incident. Upon arrival, Ezren paid Mark his fee and returned to the town hall to exchange the herbs, earning five silver each for his efforts. Satisfied with the day¡¯s work, he made his way back to the inn. He requested a basin of water and a towel, paying for the service before retiring to his room for much-needed rest. Chapter 22: In the Swamp, With a Book Chapter 22: In the Swamp, With a Book After breakfast, Ezren approached the innkeeper, his tone clipped and direct. ¡°Do you know where I can buy a map?¡± The innkeeper frowned, wiping her hands on a stained rag. ¡°Go check the town hall. Not many merchants sell that sort of thing.¡± Ezren gave a curt nod and made his way to the town hall. The clerk, a frail man hunched over a desk littered with parchments, offered him a map for a few silver coins. Ezren paid without haggling, his focus elsewhere. As he turned to leave, he spotted Mark lingering near the entrance, his usual opportunistic grin plastered across his face. Ezren approached him, eyes narrowed. ¡°I need information. Where can I find monsters around here?¡± Mark scratched his chin, feigning reluctance. ¡°Information always comes at a price.¡± ¡°Fine.¡± Ezren¡¯s impatience bled through his voice. Mark¡¯s eyes glinted with greed as he took the map from Ezren¡¯s hands and began pointing out various locations. ¡°Here¡ªhives of killer insects. There¡ªan orc encampment. Down by the marshes, a nest of oversized crabs. Crocodiles lurk along the river¡¯s bend. Even a bandit lair or two.¡± Ezren frowned, his gaze tracing the crude markings. It was too much to remember. ¡°Wait here.¡± He turned back to the clerk. ¡°Do you sell quills and ink?¡± The man nodded and scurried to retrieve the items. Ezren paid for them, the silver coins clinking as they left his hand. As he walked back to Mark, his mind was already working. He would make a pen¡ªsomething more efficient, something durable. Mark resumed his descriptions, pointing and explaining with enthusiasm now that he¡¯d been paid. Ezren sketched and noted every location, his eyes cold and calculating. He had what he needed. With the map marked and the information paid for, Ezren left without another word. Ezren stepped out of the town and headed south, his steps sure and deliberate. After walking for several minutes, he paused to check the surroundings, his eyes scanning the horizon. He turned to the bird perched nearby. ¡°Is there anyone around?¡± Ezren asked, his voice sharp. The bird squawked and flew in a tight circle, signaling that the area was clear. Without wasting a moment, Ezren conjured a swirling dark portal with a flick of his hand. From the depths of the rift emerged his latest creation¡ªa massive werewolf chimera, its body a terrifying fusion of muscle and fury. Its skin, tough and ridged like turtle hide, glistened under the sun, while six thick, snake-like tendrils writhed from its back, each one ending in sharp, barbed tips. Ezren wasted no time. He climbed onto the beast¡¯s back, his dark mana swirling as the six snake tendrils coiled around him, securing him in place like living ropes. With his arms wrapped tightly around the creature¡¯s thick neck, he was ready. ¡°Go,¡± Ezren commanded. The chimera surged forward, its speed incredible, as if the very ground beneath it had been set aflame. The creature dashed through the forest at an unimaginable pace¡ªfaster than any horse, faster even than a high-speed motorcycle. Ezren clung to its back, struggling to keep his grip as the creature tore through the underbrush. It was like hugging a bull on the edge of madness, its body bucking and twisting, trying to throw him off with every stride. The ride was brutal, unrelenting, and far from comfortable. For ten minutes, Ezren held on as the chimera followed the bird, racing toward its target. His body was tossed about, battered by the sheer force of the creature¡¯s speed, but in the end, it was still better than trudging through the muck of the swamp. As they dashed through the underbrush, Ezren¡¯s sharp eyes caught sight of a massive creature ahead. Emerging from a thick patch of swampy terrain was a gargantuan crab, its towering form looming at nearly four times the height of a man. Its exoskeleton was a mottled mixture of browns and greens, perfectly camouflaging it against the murky landscape. The beast¡¯s monstrous claws, each the size of a tree trunk, clicked and snapped together with an eerie rhythm. But it was the creature''s mouth that truly commanded attention¡ªwide and gaping, lined with jagged, razor-sharp teeth, it looked as if it could devour anything that came too close. The crab¡¯s many eyes blinked in unison, fixing its gaze on the approaching chimera, its movements slow but calculated as it prepared to strike. As the massive crab came into view, its beady eyes locking onto the chimera, Ezren''s expression remained cold. The creature''s size was intimidating, but it was no match for the power he commanded. "Attack," Ezren growled, his voice cutting through the tension. The chimera responded without hesitation, its speed never faltering even on the slippery, mud-slicked swamp floor. The massive beast surged forward, its snake-like tendrils whipping and its claws digging into the earth as it dashed through the swamp¡¯s muck. The crab barely had time to react as the chimera closed the distance in seconds. With a powerful roar, the werewolf chimera launched itself at the crab, using its strength to slam into the creature¡¯s side. The force was enough to send the crab flying, its legs flailing in the air as the chimera¡¯s massive paws pushed it over. The crab, helpless on its back, was no match for the chimera''s overwhelming power. The chimera wasted no time. With a snarl, it dug its claws into the crab¡¯s soft underside, ripping through the tough exoskeleton. The beast tore into the crab¡¯s flesh, its jaws snapping with vicious precision, until the once-mighty creature was reduced to a bloody mess. Ezren observed the carnage with detached satisfaction. Another monster, crushed beneath the weight of his power. With the battle over, Ezren turned toward the open portal, extending his hand to command the chimera. ¡°Bring it inside.¡± The werewolf chimera obeyed, dragging the massive crab¡¯s corpse effortlessly toward the rift. Ezren stepped back through the portal and remained outside, watching the chimera haul the dead creature inside. Once the crab was secured in the forge, Ezren focused on his next task. He turned to Graos, who was already at the ready. "Analyze the crab," Ezren ordered, watching as Graos moved to inspect the creature¡¯s remains. As Graos worked, Ezren turned his attention back to the chimera, already thinking ahead. ¡°Now, drag an elk corpse back from the swamp.¡± The chimera nodded and disappeared into the swamp, returning a short time later with the carcass of a large elk, its lifeless body draped over the chimera¡¯s back. Ezren, standing outside the portal, watched closely as the chimera bit into the elk, tearing away chunks of meat before spitting them out in the mud. "Let¡¯s see if the crab will react to fresh meat," Ezren muttered under his breath. The strong scent of fresh meat carried through the air, drifting across the swamp. It didn¡¯t take long before Ezren heard the rustling of movement from all directions. Slowly at first, then faster, more crabs began emerging from the swamp, drawn by the smell of blood. The first massive crab appeared from the left, then another from the right, and soon there were multiple crabs advancing from different directions, their many legs dragging through the muck. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Ezren smiled slightly, watching as the chimera stood at the ready, its body tense. It was time for the hunt. The chimera let out a growl, its muscles rippling as it lunged toward the first crab. With a vicious snap of its claws, the creature flipped the crab onto its back, its sharp fangs sinking into the creature¡¯s soft underside. But the fight was far from over¡ªanother crab charged from the right, snapping its massive claws toward the chimera. It didn¡¯t stand a chance. The chimera leaped away from the downed crab, spinning around to meet the new threat. With one swift strike, it tore into the second crab, its claws rending through the creature¡¯s armor, pulling apart its exoskeleton with brutal efficiency. From the other side, a third crab appeared, and Ezren watched as the chimera danced between the crabs, moving faster than they could react. It spun, flipped, and struck with deadly precision, using its monstrous strength to take down each crab that came near. The chimera¡¯s speed was unparalleled, and its focus unrelenting. With each crab that fell, the chimera dragged the corpse toward the open portal, its body a blur as it continued to hunt, pulling each creature into the rift as it finished them off one by one. The hunt was relentless, efficient¡ªthis was true auto-hunting. Ezren stood back and observed, a twisted sense of satisfaction creeping through him. ¡°Auto-hunting is fun,¡± he murmured, watching as the chimera continued its work, dragging crab after crab into the portal. Once the last of the crabs had been dealt with, Ezren climbed a nearby tree, finding a comfortable spot at the top. He settled in, pulling the book he¡¯d purchased from the town and opening its pages, allowing the sounds of battle and the swamp to fade away as he lost himself in the reading.
The Black King¡¯s Wrath For centuries, the human continent has been torn apart by relentless war. Kingdoms clash, alliances shatter, and the land is soaked in blood. The people yearn for peace, but no ruler has been able to end the conflict. Solomon, a newly crowned king and mage, rises to this challenge. Though not yet a powerful mage, his ambition and sharp mind drive him to wage war in order to bring an end to the chaos. With his magical abilities growing stronger with each battle, Solomon leads his forces with precision and unmatched determination. Over twenty years, Solomon¡¯s power as a mage flourishes. Each victory brings him closer to his goal of uniting the continent. His strategy, cunning, and strength on the battlefield lead him to crush his enemies and break the endless cycle of war. By the end of the long conflict, Solomon achieves his dream. He stands as the Sage Emperor, having united the human continent under his rule and brought peace to the land. His journey, fueled by a desire to end the war, has forged a new future for his people. Solomon has done what no one else could¡ªhe has brought lasting peace through his strength, magic, and unyielding will. "Years later, the same dream reoccurs, having forgotten its origin. The empire, once united under Solomon''s rule, begins to splinter as factions rise, signaling the beginnings of unrest." As the years passed and Solomon¡¯s health began to decline, he sought ways to prolong his life, desperate to hold onto his power and control over the empire. He hired human mages, dwarves, and elves, each bringing their unique expertise to the research in hopes of discovering a way to preserve his life. Despite their combined efforts, time was running out. One day, Solomon fell ill and was confined to the temple, a place of both healing and reflection. Surrounded by the constant hum of healing magic and whispered prayers, he lay in his bed, growing weaker with each passing day. Yet, amidst the bustling temple, Solomon began to notice something strange. He saw fleeting shadows moving in the corners of his vision, and heard faint whispers¡ªwords he couldn¡¯t quite make out. Though his body was failing him, his mind remained alert, sensing something far beyond the mundane sickness that plagued him. Solomon¡¯s First Encounter with Death The stench of blood and incense clung to the air. The temple-hospital, once a place of healing, had become a tomb. The groans of the dying filled the halls, their bodies frail, their magic failing. No spell could stop what was coming. Solomon stood among them, watching. He had seen wars, plagues, and suffering before. But this time, he felt something different. Then¡ªa whisper. Not from the healers. Not from the priests. Something beyond the veil of life itself. His vision blurred. The torches dimmed, shadows stretched unnaturally along the walls. And in that moment, he saw it. A figure¡ªtall, skeletal, draped in black that bled into nothingness. Its empty gaze swept across the dying, not with malice, nor with mercy¡ªjust indifference. There, in the absolute stillness, he heard something no living being should. A voice. Cold, distant, absolute. ¡°All things return to me.¡± It was the Death. Solomon knelt in the darkness, his mind racing. The words were not spoken¡ªthey were understood. The voice did not echo in his ears but in his soul. He realized then that Death itself had a language, one that no living mage had ever recorded. A mad idea took root in his mind. If the gods¡¯ language shaped the world, then perhaps Death¡¯s words could reshape it. For months, he obsessed over the memory of that single phrase. He broke it down, translated its meaning, and with his unparalleled mastery of runes, he formed a new symbol¡ªone that had never existed before. It was neither Life, nor Creation, nor Chaos. It was Death, bound into written form. This was his first dark rune. The moment he etched it into existence, the air grew heavy. Mana warped, turning thick and sluggish¡ªalmost liquid. The world itself recoiled from what he had done. This was not magic as the gods had given it¡ªthis was something unnatural. It should not exist. And yet¡ªit did. Solomon, driven by his fear of mortality, continued. He mixed Death¡¯s runes with those of Creation, Life, and Chaos magic. He altered the laws, twisted their meanings. He created spells that stole life rather than gave it. Magic circles that did not draw from the ambient mana of the world but required liquid dark mana¡ªsomething only he knew how to produce. The gods must have sensed it, but they did not act¡ªnot yet. For a time, Solomon believed he had won. His body, once aging, was now restored and strengthened. He had not achieved true immortality, but he had bought time. And for a man who had conquered empires, time was enough. Until it wasn¡¯t. Solomon¡¯s thirst for power grew insatiable, and as his body aged, he became desperate. He delved deeper into the forbidden magics of dark mana, seeking immortality at any cost. His people, once loyal followers, were sacrificed for his experiments¡ªeach one willingly or unknowingly becoming part of Solomon¡¯s twisted path to eternal life. His scholars and mages, experts in their various fields, were forced to work with dark mana, harnessing its power to create new and terrifying forms of magic. But as they delved deeper, the consequences became clear. Corruption spread among them, both physical and mental, as they twisted their own magic and lives to Solomon¡¯s will. Soon, rebellion sparked. His followers, the ones who had once served him faithfully, realized the monstrous path Solomon had chosen. But it was too late. They rose against him, hoping to reclaim their freedom and the world Solomon had stolen from them. Yet, Solomon crushed them with ruthless precision. Those who resisted were turned into resources, their bodies and souls drained to fuel his experiments. Those who survived were transformed into undead servants, their wills bent to his power. His empire of darkness grew as he used the corpses of the fallen to bolster his undead army. The gods, watching from their distant realms, sensed the growing threat. Solomon had defied the natural order, and his actions threatened to unravel the very fabric of life. They sent their power to defeat him¡ªbut even this divine intervention came at a price. The gods summoned a hero, a warrior born from all the races of the world: human, elf, and dwarf. The last hope to restore balance. The rebellion spread, as remnants of Solomon¡¯s former followers¡ªthe last of the free humans, elves, and dwarves¡ªjoined forces. United under the banner of the hero, they fought against Solomon¡¯s undead army and his dark followers. Cities fell, forests burned, and the battle raged across the continent. In a final, climactic confrontation, the hero and the united forces of the rebellion faced Solomon. It was a battle of life against death, creation against destruction, with the fate of the world hanging in the balance. But Solomon, now a shell of the man he once was, had become something more¡ªhis power drawn from the dark mana that flowed through his veins. The hero, wielding the combined might of their race¡¯s strengths, clashed with Solomon in a battle that shook the earth itself. In the end, Solomon¡¯s hubris proved to be his undoing. The hero, wielding the power of unity and hope, struck the final blow, shattering Solomon¡¯s reign and banishing the dark magic that had consumed him. But even as Solomon fell, he remember, his last words echoed in the air: ¡°All things return to me.¡± The world, though freed from Solomon¡¯s reign of terror, would never be the same. His dark legacy would leave scars on the land and on the hearts of those who fought to end it. And though peace was restored, the fear of death, and the temptation to conquer it, would always linger.
Ezren sat perched on the thick branch of a tree, the book now closed in his lap. The wind rustled through the leaves around him, but his mind remained locked on the words he had just absorbed. His cold eyes stared blankly ahead as if seeing through the fabric of the world itself. What the f*ck did I just read?