Mark scanned his status one last time, a surge of determination hardening his resolve. Unlike the others, he had noticed the quest urging them to level up. He also noticed a rack of weapons lying unguarded nearby. The lack of information from Lyra gnawed at him. Why transport them here, explain the trial briefly, and then vanish? This wasn't a tutorial – it was a chaotic scramble for survival with no clear instructions.
Mark scanned his surroundings, his gaze drifting across the field now dotted with budding factions. Individuals adorned with makeshift symbols and radiating a sense of authority were actively gathering followers, their voices rising in promises of strength and protection. A strange sense of unease settled in Mark's stomach. This wasn't a cohesive community; it was a battlefield disguised as a gathering place.
Suddenly, the ground began to tremble, a low rumble that grew to a deafening roar. The air crackled with an unnatural energy, and from the edge of the forest, a tide of monstrous creatures surged forth. Panic erupted amidst the crowd, screams piercing the air as people scrambled for cover.
His eyes then fell upon a rack of weapons propped against a large makeshift shelter. They weren't elaborate or sophisticated, but they were better than nothing. He started walking towards them, his mind already calculating the best weapon for the situation.
His hand instinctively reached for the hilt of a short sword, its simple design and balanced weight appealing to his pragmatic nature. But then, his eyes caught a glimpse of a curved scythe, its blade glinting eerily in the fading light.
An unfamiliar sensation, a tingling in his gut, tugged at him, drawing his attention to both the sword and the scythe. It felt...right, somehow, as if the weapons themselves were beckoning him. Yet, a flicker of logic snapped him back to reality. He had no experience with a scythe, only a basic understanding of swordplay from self-defense classes he'd taken back on Earth. He couldn't afford recklessness; the stakes were too high.
A bittersweet memory surfaced, a flashback to a time when he desperately wanted to belong. He pictured himself standing stiffly in a sweaty dojo, mimicking the movements of other students, all the while suppressing his natural talent and agility. Blending in, hiding his true self, had been his mantra for survival back then.
He reached out and grasped the hilt of the sword, its familiar feel grounding him. It was a simple choice, one driven by practicality and a touch of melancholy. He wasn't ready to embrace the unknown, not yet.
As the first wave of creatures surged forth from the forest. Mark, however, felt a surge of adrenaline course through him. The initial shock quickly gave way to a steely focus. Years of suppressing his true self had honed his instincts. He moved with an almost practiced fluidity, dodging a lunging creature with a deft sidestep, parrying another's attack with the sword in a motion smooth and efficient.
His movements weren't flawless, certainly not the result of intensive training, but they carried a quiet confidence, a natural aptitude honed by years of hidden awareness and adaptability. He fought with a measured aggression, conserving his energy while dispatching the smaller creatures with precise strikes.
His eyes, however, remained vigilant, scanning the battlefield for any larger threats. It was then he noticed Bolu, the man with the aura of potential, standing a few feet away, his gaze fixed on Mark with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. They locked eyes for a fleeting moment, a silent exchange that held more questions than answers.
But the time for pondering was over. A hulking creature, resembling a twisted amalgamation of bear and boar, charged towards them, its roar shaking the very ground. Mark met the charge head-on, his sword flashing in the dying light. The fight was fierce, demanding every ounce of his strength and agility. He parried, dodged, and countered, his movements becoming increasingly fluid and coordinated as the battle continued.
Meanwhile, Bolu, seemingly emboldened by Mark's tenacity, drew his own weapon and joined the fray. Together, they fought back against the onslaught of creatures, carving a path through the chaos.
The battle raged around Mark, a chaotic symphony of terrified screams, clashing metal, and the guttural roars of the monstrous creatures. He fought with a newfound purpose, his movements sharp and instinctive, years of suppressed potential finally finding an outlet. But as he danced between snapping mandibles and razor-sharp claws, a nagging sense of urgency gnawed at him. He had a feeling, and his eyes turned towards the structure at the center of the field.
With a battle cry, he pushed his way through the throng of creatures, his eyes fixed on the distant silhouette of the structure. Every fiber of his being urged him towards it, a beacon amidst the maelstrom. Dodging a swipe from a mutated ant, he sprinted across the field, the ground trembling beneath his feet.
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He reached the structure, panting and bloodied, his sword slick with the ichor of fallen creatures. It wasn't much to look at – a simple, monolithic block of what appeared to be polished obsidian. Yet, it emanated a faint hum, a pulse of energy that resonated with an unfamiliar warmth within him.
As he touched the smooth surface, a chime echoed in his mind, clear and distinct amidst the roar of the battle. "Would you like to establish a safe zone?" a voice resonated. With a resolute nod, he uttered the single word, "Yes. A white dome shimmered into existence, engulfing the square. When the light faded, a dome of shimmering energy glistened above the field, encompassing the stunned survivors. Mark stood there, staring at the scene in disbelief. The remaining monsters outside the barrier seemed to be teleported away, replaced by an opaque barrier. The dead, both human and monster, inexplicably vanished, replaced by prefabricated structures that sprang from the ground like seedlings.
The initial chaos had claimed thousands of lives. Tears streamed down faces, and even some of the self-proclaimed leaders lay lifeless, their dreams of power shattered. But amidst the grief, he also saw individuals like Bolu, his expression a mixture of confusion and curiosity. The initial bravado of the newly formed factions had been replaced by a sober realization of their vulnerability. He also noticed a few pairs of eyes lingering on in suspicion.
It was then that Bolu approached him, his expression still etched with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. "Did your patron inform you about that?" he said, pointing at the central structure, his voice low and rumbling. "And how did you know to establish the safe zone?"
Mark hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. He had realized that a potent "sense" guided his actions, especially regarding the structure. Sharing too much felt risky. "I just... felt like there was a reason why it was there," he said finally, choosing his words carefully. He added, "The system gave me the option to establish the safe zone and I did”
Bolu studied him intently. "Is there anything else the system told you?"
Mark called out his status in his mind, a wave of notifications flooding his senses.
You have gained 100 XP for slaying mutated ant (lvl 3)
You have gained 100 XP for slaying mutated ant (lvl 3)
You have gained 100 XP for slaying mutated ant (lvl 3)
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You have gained 200 XP for slaying Chimera bear (lvl 4)
Congratulations you have leveled up to level 1.
You have been awarded 5 stats.
Congratulations for establishing the safe zone!
Congratulations for establishing the safe zone!
Mark hesitated, unsure how much to share. He decided to reveal some information. "I leveled up " he said, focusing on the notifications not related to the structure.
Bolu nodded, accepting this answer without further prying. He looked around at the survivors gathering near the safe zone, their faces etched with a mixture of confusion and relief.
He saw updated information on his status. He had a level indication and experience bar, at least he now knew had to level up now. Suddenly, a woman appeared beside them.
Mark Reynolds (Human - Tier 1)
Figure: Average Human (Base: 5) Health: 1950
Mana: 1710
Level:1 XP (100/2750) Stamina: 1440
Stats:5
He had also acquired a new skill.
Identify (Passive)
Level: 1 (Upgradeable): This passive skill grants you an enhanced perception of the world around you, providing insights into the nature and properties of various objects, creatures, and phenomena you encounter. When you focus your attention on something, especially for the first time, you receive a brief flash of information that includes the name and type of the object, creature, or phenomenon.
Increase the level further for more benefits!
He didn’t assign any stat points he felt like he had to understand what they did first.
Catherine’s (POV)
Catherine scanned the field, her heart pounding against her ribs. Patience was a luxury she didn't possess. The trial was about to start, and they had to prepare for the climb the tower, and according to the Progenitor, a monstrous horde would soon descend upon this very field.
But first, she needed confirmation. She waited for the ethereal representative, Lyra, to awaken their statuses. With a snap of her fingers, a surge of energy awakened the hidden potential within each participant.
The moment her own status flickered to life, Catherine activated her bloodline ability, "Wielder of Fate." A web of shimmering threads materialized around her, each representing the potential paths of those surrounding her. A multitude of threads branched out from her, hinting at various choices and consequences. But then, her gaze fell upon the man beside her. A gasp escaped her lips. The threads surrounding him were unlike any she had ever witnessed. They were numerous, vibrant, and interwoven in a complex, intricate dance, hinting at a destiny far greater than anything she could have imagined.
He was the one. The chosen one. The one the Progenitor had spoken of, the one who could potentially shake the very fabric of weave. Catherine steeled herself. She had a role to play in this grand scheme. The Progenitor had equipped her with the necessary tools. Reaching into a hidden pouch, she retrieved a small, intricately carved artifact. With a whispered incantation, her form shimmered and faded from sight.
But before she vanished, she approached the man, a resolute expression on her face. "Hello," she said, her voice calm amidst the chaos. "My name is Catherine. I have information about the trial that could prove valuable. Soon, there will be an attack. I possess a skill that can enhance your abilities. Would you be willing to work together and protect the innocent?"
The man, Bolu, listened intently, his expression unreadable. After a moment's contemplation, he nodded. "My patron warned me of the attack as well," he rumbled. "Your help will be welcome."
A tremor shook the ground, heralding the approaching monsters. Catherine offered Bolu a silent nod, then activated her hidden skill, bathing him and the surrounding survivors in a shimmering aura of temporary empowerment. Finally, she triggered the invisibility artifact, her form dissolving into thin air. Catherine had initiated her role in this grand game of fate. She would gather allies, elevate Bolu’s power, and ensure his success. After all, as the Progenitor had declared, he was destined to become a force that would forever alter the very fabric of reality. But little did Catherine know fate had different plans, for another individual stood amidst them, shrouded in even greater destiny, unseen by her bloodline ability.