Beast logged back into the mountainside town of Corelia, just in time for the town’s herald to run past him on the streets, shouting.
“Bad news! Bad news on the Eastern front! The Caerheim Army suffered a crushing defeat at Vanguard Pass and was forced to retreat back into Loyderidge!”
His cry rang far and wide, bringing about looks of bewilderment from both NPCs and Players alike. Beast was similarly confused and made to chase after the teenage boy.
“Hey! Hey!” He caught the herald by the cuff of his neck, bringing him to a halt. “What do you mean by the army suffering a defeat? Were they not playing it safe just days ago?”
The boy was startled for a moment but gave the answer all the same in a single breath. “It appears that the Qqers guild from Honduria had moved without sanction from the King of Honduria and ambushed the Joint Operation Army during one of the skirmishes, causing much disorientation within their ranks. Suffering heavy losses from both flanks, Commander Lifey gave orders to retreat back into the city. Now the gates are barred and routes closed. The city is under siege.”
“Did he say Qqers?” came a gasp from the background.
“Oh my god.”
“What are Qqers?”
“Shhh, don’t speak their name!”
Qqers, a PK focused guild based in the Honduria region with only a handful of players. Numbering at about only a dozen players from level 100 to 130, there had been much complaining on the forums regarding these grievers who were said to player kill indiscriminately on sight. Each and every one of them was dangerous even as an individual, with job professions specializing heavily in player-killing power. The recommended course of action upon meeting one of them was to run and hide.
They were so infamous that the boards consistently had one thread about one of the members at the top ten at one point of time. Some of the more well-known ones were as follow:
Togepee, a callout to the Pokegame from the distant past, was a fearsome Necromancer in direct contradiction to the implied cuteness of her name. Known to kill people with a smile on her face as she raised her minions from their corpses, it had been said that she was able to wipe a minor guild-controlled castle and take over it with her necromancy for as long as a week before another allied guild arrived on site to render aid.
Oneshotakill, an archer with so much damage output that one Charge Arrow was all he needed to kill almost anyone, even a heavily armoured knight at full health.
Fyrzen, an elemental mage who focused on heavy destruction ice and fire magic on a scale said to encompass the area of a small town.
And of course, ScrubLord, the leader of this band of plundering opportunists. Rumours of ScrubLord were aplenty, but the most prominent was a short video clip depicting the Berserker taking on an entire guild by himself. Not only did he not die, he emerged victorious with a bloodthirsty smile that would give an average person nightmares. Beast had seen the video clip in question and all he could say was that while the clip did not really substantiate the claim’s credibility, the man in the video was the very epitome of a blood knight.
In the end they were all rumours, and rumours were often exaggerated.
Given the Qqers’ modus operandi and the number of juicy targets they would have inside the Caerheim army, it was of no surprise that they would enter the war with zero concern for their infamy even without the King’s authorization on the matter.
They were usually held in check jointly by the other guilds operating in Honduria, but with the circumstances of the war, the other guilds would not interfere, much less care about something that would not affect them. Some of the more fanatical or patriotic members might even join them for their crusade in the Western continent.
None of these were of Beast’s concern though. He had absolutely no intention of returning east to help with the ongoing war. What difference was one man ever going to make anyway? This thing would be best left for Derrilene and her army to settle. Besides, the war might have already been concluded by the time he got there.
Stepping into the inn once again, Beast headed for the counter. The innkeeper recognized him from their last encounter and made to hail the Lore Keeper.
“Sir, I have a spare room now. Will you require it?”
This time however, what Beast needed was not a room. “I am sorry. I do not require a room. What I do require is a little bit of information.”
“And what information would you wish to hear? If it is about the war I could give some updates on it.”
The thing about innkeepers in this game is that they are usually a good and reliable source of information. Although the information they had would not always be real, there might be some truth in their words. As per old game custom, when in doubt, head for the tavern or inn.
“Not the war. I would like to hear of legends or myths of Corelia, or any tombs of dead kings or abandoned ruins around here. As a historian, these sorts of things interest me and oh, I had just been to the Fort of Lanos for a trip.” Beast quickly added to remove Lanos from the information retrieval.
“Ah yes…” The innkeeper’s eyes flickered as though trying to recall something. “We are a young kingdom so there isn’t much to talk about. Wait… I think I have one. I don’t know if it is true, but there is indeed an old legend regarding the Splinter Mountains behind this town. “
Bingo.
“Have you ever drunk the water in the stream outside of town? You would have been surprised by how refreshing and soothing it is. The water also has slight healing properties that our townsfolks use for our own remedies.” So that was why the soup was more potent than a normal potion, which meant that the recipe for the herbal soup would actually require water from the stream to be successful.
“They say that if you climb high enough, you could reach the source spring at the peak that feeds the Inpelmarr stream. I think that would be what you are interested in, adventurer.”
“Has anyone ever tried to find the source?” Beast found himself asking. If people had already known about the healing properties of the water, it was highly likely that others would have ventured in search of the cause.
The innkeeper chuckled. “Oh, some tried. They never made it back. Those who did reported not finding a single thing even though they made it to the top and back. The rest of us are simply content to just enjoy what nature had blessed us with.”
“Right. Thank you very much for this information.”
“Say, boy. If you are going to find the spring, could you bring back some proof of its existence? I have to admit I am slightly curious about the legend myself. Please be careful though.”
Drinng!
The Source Spring of Splinter Mountains
The innkeeper of Corelia has divulged a town legend to you regarding the source spring at the top of Splinter Mountains that is rumoured to give the Inpelmarr Stream its unique properties. He is curious about its existence and wishes to find out within his lifetime. Bring back proof of the spring’s existence or non-existence to the man to complete this quest.
Difficulty: C-
Existence or non-existence, it was such a weird choice of words. It was as though the quest did not expect him to survive long enough in the Splinter Mountains to find the spring.
“Of course. I will let you know of my findings.”
“Thank you, my friend.”
Beast silently made plans for his route after Corelia. He would definitely want to climb the Splinter Mountains to find the source spring, especially with the quest and all, and maybe cross to the north while he was at it. Most people would head down south to Poingard and her surrounding dungeons, so heading north would ensure a higher chance of hunting monopoly.
First, he should try to offload the crafted items he had made earlier; they were taking up quite a bit of inventory space. Selling them off to the NPC stores would be the easiest way out but it would also be the least profitable, so Beast decided to take advantage of the present increase in population in Corelia. After all, they might be lower quality than usual but selling to players would always earn at least ten times more than what he could get from just selling the items to the shops.
Strolling down the main street of Corelia, he took note of suitable places to set up a shop and display his wares. A place that had enough space and a good view of town square would be great. Oh, there was the mage who had challenged him just the other day. Beast immediately turned the other direction and walked away before the man could spot him.
Just when he found an un-occupied part with high traffic, a sudden cheery ‘pon’ sound alerted him to a notification window for a friend request.
Naomi wants to register you as friends!
Yes/No
Yes, whatever. Beast hurriedly pressed the yes button to the sound of a ‘kachak’ sound of success, wanting to get back to his item selling.
“Selling Copper and Iron Swords-“
Pon!
Naomi invited you to a party!
Yes/No
That was weird; Naomi was supposed to be in Loyderidge right about now. How could a party invitation actually be allowed for such a long distance? Perhaps it could have been done since the beginning, only that he had never tried it out before.
Beast was curious; he could not help but press ‘yes’ just to see if it would work.
Ping!
You are too far away to form a party.
Figures. Well then, back to what he was busy with before. “Selling equipment at a cheap price-“
Pon!
Naomi invited you to a party!
Yes/No
Yes still gave the same result – a notification that they were too far apart from each other to form a party. It was such a waste of time. What in the world was Naomi doing exactly?
At this moment of time, a player who looked like a swordsman approached Beast.
Pointing at one of the dozen iron swords displayed in front of him, the player inquired. “Excuse me, how much would be one of the armadillo leather armour?”
“It would be 75 silvers. “ Good armours could go as high as a gold piece each at the blacksmith, and armadillo skin was an uncommon material by itself. Even though it was of low quality, it still offered a substantial amount of defense, warranting the price tag that Beast was selling it for.
“The quality seems low. I will give 35 silvers for it.”
Beast narrowed his eyes. He knew at once what the swordsman’s intention was. He was a low-baller who deliberately offered just a little lesser than half the original selling price just to see if any unsuspecting fool would accept and then resell it for a profit. Unfortunately for him, Beast had more than enough sense than to entertain him.
“I am sorry, 75 silvers is the max–“
Pon!
Goddamnit this woman! Could he not have his peace? How persistent is she to keep trying things that had already been proven not to work?
In his frustration, Beast slammed his finger against the yes button, eager to get back to the customer, only for his world to be abruptly dyed white.
……………
Naomi rushed about the militia camp gathering supplies, while Knight Gordo barked out orders over the sounds of moaning.
“You, go get more bandages! You, help him carry in the wounded! And you, stop slacking off doing nothing at all. You are part of the Loyderidge militia, so you jolly well help out!”
The rest of the militia, players or otherwise, were likewise running about tending to numerous injured people inside the militia camp within Loyderidge. Healers were being squeezed dry casting spells non-stop as more wounded soldiers flooded in. Non-healers were busy delivering bandages and potions to the rest and mana potions to the healers. The scene bordered on chaotic, threatening to dissolve any remaining shred of order.
It was the aftermath of the Joint Operation Army’s defeat at Vanguard Pass and the results were alarming. Over a fifth of the army had been destroyed, while a further third were injured. Commander Lifey had ordered the army to retreat back into the castle to regroup and seek medical attention, which caused the current overwhelming situation at the support camp. Even then, the support camp was only one of the many triages set up around Loyderidge.
The horrors of war were far beyond anything she had expected.
Naomi was a self-proclaimed fighter, so she had been tasked with escorting the wounded people to the rear. Just minutes ago during one of those rounds, she saw firsthand how ten men tore into hundreds like paper. She saw how Commander Lifey directed her entire guild away from the Hondurian front towards the ten men the moment she noticed the new development, while she herself took on one of the men solo while screaming for everyone to withdraw.
It was a warrior aptly named Scrublord, and also the leader of the band of raiders.
“So… we finally meet again.” The sneer on the Berserker’s face was seen even at the distance Naomi was at. The man wielded an impossibly large axe and was swinging it around like it was a toy.
“They say that enemies will always find each other somehow, Lifey, like star-crossed lovers.”
Lifey simply gave the man a disgusted look before drawing out her longsword from its scabbard.
“Not even going to talk huh? I can’t believe you are so cold even after all our encounters together in Honduria.”
“You mean all the times I trashed your ass?” Lifey coolly replied. A throbbing vein emerged on ScrubLord’s forehead at the provocation.
“Today I will teach you some manners! Battle Roar!”
“I invoke the power of Antorine, grant me strength to propel the cycle of change! Steadfast Guard!” A silver aura enveloped the Commander. “Cyclic Suppression!”
Without any further exchange the both of them clashed together in a flurry of sparks.
It was Guild leader versus Guild leader; Guardian versus Berserker. Naomi wanted to stay and watch the showdown of a lifetime, but her duty and orders came first. Besides, the battle was already lost and all Lifey was doing was buying time for the rest to retreat. Curbing her own curiosity and hot-bloodedness, she too abandoned the battlefield in compliance to the many shouts to withdraw.
“Naomi, more bandages!”
“Right, coming!”
Naomi was a fighter. She could not do a single thing except manual labor in this kind of situation. However, even as a self-proclaimed fighter she could not contribute much. At level 22, she had not even job changed yet, and was therefore stuck with only her own innate martial skills for combat.
Knight Gordo had offered her a job change to become a soldier when she reached level 10, but something about living in barracks and using pikes turned her off. Without any further offers for profession changes or guidance on the matter, Naomi did the only action she could; she remained classless throughout the whole time she had gone out with the rest of the militia into Loyderidge’s vicinity to train.
Maybe she should ask Sebast for some job recommendations when she has the chance.
“Status Window.”
Status WindowName:NaomiLevel:22Profession:N/aRace:HumanGender:FemaleTitles:N/aFame:8-Health:910Mana:320Strength:181 (+5)Intelligence:10Dexterity:10 (+11)Wisdom:10Stamina:69Luck:10Bare Hand Mastery, +16% to bare hand damageEquipment EffectsReinforced Leather Armour: + 4 Dexterity, + 3 Strength
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
Reinforced Leather Pants: + 4 Dexterity, + 2 Strength
Reinforced Leather Shoes: + 3 DexterityRelationsCaerheim: 18
She had pumped most of her stat into strength and the rest into stamina, seeing how they are the two most important stats for strength and survival. She should be doing okay like this.
“Naomi!” It was Knight Gordo. The armoured man had come up to her with something in his hand.
“Yes Sir!”
“We require more healers. Here, take this map and go to the place marked on it to request for aid. Tell them I sent you and someone should entertain you.”
“Yes sir!”
Driiing!
Request for aid from the Saint of Loyderidge
Knight Gordo cannot handle the influx of wounded at the militia camp and requires you to ask for assistance from the retired Saint of Loyderidge. Persuade her to help and return with her to the militia camp.
Difficulty: E
“Go!”
Naomi took off like a gust of wind after making sure of the direction she should be heading to. The place was in Loyderidge’s outer suburbs, so it took a short time for her to reach her destination. It was an ordinary district, and quaintly nested between two units of unremarkable brick terraces was the modest wooden door that she should knock on. If anything, nobody would ever have guessed that this was the home of the so-called Saint of Loyderidge.
“Excuse me.” Naomi knocked. “Is anyone home?”
Silence.
Just when she thought she was too soft and was about to knock again, the door opened to a grumpy man with a scowl on his face. It did not take a rocket scientist to figure that he was none too pleased to see Naomi show up at the door.
“What is it now? Are you begging for mother’s miracles again?”
“I-
“Stop bothering us.”
The door slammed with a loud bang, leaving the stunned Naomi in its wake. It took her a whole ten seconds to recollect her senses and try again.
“Excuse me.”
“I said,” The door swung open like he had already been waiting for Naomi’s second attempt. “STOP BOTHERI-“
Thwack! The sound of bone cracking followed by the loud thud of a body hitting the floor resounded through the desolated district. Naomi had thrown a punch in his face before he could finish his tirade. The Master of the Penguin Dojo was normally a patient person and liked to play nice, but against a rude and condescending attitude she preferred to let her fists do the talking. Shouting was merely the straw that broke the camel’s back.
“My… my… I apologise, dear. You will have to forgive Chester.” An old lady hobbled into sight and crouched down at the groaning man. With a wave of her hand, the broken nose was fixed in an instant. Without a question, this woman was the Saint of Loyderidge. “He always had my best interest at heart.”
She then beckoned for the young man to go back into the house. Chester moved to protest but withered at the stern look she gave. He then obediently complied.
“So young lady, what brings you here to my door?”
“Knight Gordo requires more healing hands at the camp due to the recent defeat of the Army. He was hoping I could get you to come down.”
“Gordo asked for me… I see… Seems like a good match…” The old lady mumbled before looking up at the puzzled girl. “Will you come in? I would like to talk over some tea.”
“I am sorry, but I do not have the time. There are still injured –“
“I insist.” She repeated again, this time staring straight through Naomi with piercing eyes of steel.
Although the old woman looked frail and harmless, there was something in her voice and eyes that hinted at the power she used to or probably still command that coined her as the Saint. Besides, it looked as though it was the only way she could obtain her help. Without much choice in the matter, Naomi entered the house. Despite its plain exterior, it was a warm cozy house with a small fire lit at the fireplace for heat and light. Taking her place at a rocking chair close to the fireplace, the old lady motioned for Naomi to sit down at the carpet across her, next to a sulking Chester.
“Missy, my name is Magdalene, would you not tell me yours?”
“Naomi. Just Naomi.”
“Naomi? That is a fine name indeed.” Magdalene motioned for Chester to get some tea from the kitchen, which he obeyed reluctantly. Seconds later, he was already out with a pot of hot tea as though it had already been put on in anticipation of a visitor.
Calmly sipping her from her cup, Magdelene gave a sad smile to Naomi. “Your request from Gordo… I am afraid I will have to refuse.”
“You see, I am not like what I used to be. Being a healer is a very intensive job that consumes a person’s spirit.” That would be mana, Naomi mentally noted. “Back in my younger days I could run as many as three nursing stations all by myself but I am afraid I will not be able to handle it at my current age, please pardon an old lady.”
Naomi could see Chester make a small fist pump out of the corner of her eyes. That man, did he need another punch to the face?
“However, I could send another healer in my place. No, not Chester, he had adamantly refused to inherit my work years back. That child preferred to be a Tailor.”
“Who would that be?” If it was another person recommended by the Saint of Loyderidge, she could get directions and be off in a moment’s notice.
“You, my child. You.”
“Right, so where do –“It took Naomi a few seconds to finish processing what Magdalene had just said. “Wait, what?”
“Call it fate, child, but Gordo sending you to me despite knowing I am unfit for healing duty is more than mere ignorance or coincidence. I believe in his judge of character and also my own eyes. You, who are full of spirit, would be ideal for this job.”
Job Change!
You have been offered to job change into: Cleric (Taerra)
The Saint of Loyderidge has offered to pass down her knowledge of the healing arts to you.
Do you wish to accept?
It was so sudden that Naomi was at a loss on what to do. Being a cleric would indeed solve her current quest, but she would end up with a job she had not really planned for. That would actually be more detrimental to her long term goals of living and fighting for battles.
“I am sorry. Could you please let me know where I could find another healer?”
Wait a minute; did she even have a plan in the first place? She could survive being classless just fine, couldn’t she?
Magdalene gave a small chuckle. “I have nobody else, child. I know what you are thinking. You are thinking that a cleric’s job is to heal and be a support, but that is where you are wrong. A cleric’s job is not just to sit in the sidelines and look pretty. We fight wars and actually win them.”
“Really?”
“Why not? Back in my days I joined Lord Trigent as one of the clerics in his expedition party into present-Caerheim. We fought long and hard against the hobgoblins that infested the area and back then, our camp suffered frequent counter-raids from morning to night. I myself was healing multiple wounded at once while bashing hobgoblin heads in with Baconmer.”
“Baconmer is mother’s Warhammer.” Chester helpfully supplied, pointing to a well-used Warhammer on display over the fireplace. It was easily as long as the old lady was tall.
“You actually used that?”
“Yes, dear. I think I had over four hundred kills with my darling hammer.”
“Wow.” It was bad; Naomi could feel her conviction slipping away.
“Yes, so why don’t you accept first and come back to me after you have finished saving the wounded still waiting for you back at camp? I will show you the finer points of being a cleric.”
It was then Naomi knew she could not win the sly person sitting across her. The old lady’s coercion was much too strong for her to handle, much less the guilt-tripping that she was laying it thick on. Very well then, it was not as if she had any inkling of what to become. Without any further hesitation, she nodded her head. In an instance, a faint earthly glow enveloped her body to Magdalene’s pleased expression.
You have taken the path of the Cleric of Taerra!
You have gained 10 Intelligence
You have gained 30 Wisdom
You have gained 20 Stamina
You have gained 200 HP
You have gained 200 Mana.
“For now, I will teach you Heal and Cure, so you can complete your current assignment.” Grabbing Naomi’s hands into her wrinkled own, Magdelene began helping the girl direct her energies for the spell.
“Focus Taerra’s energy at your hands and you will be able to soothe suffering with them.”
You feel the power of Taerra, Goddess of the Earth flowing into you!
You have gained the skill: Heal!
Heal (Basic 1)
Heals for 352 health for 30 mana
You have gained the skill: Cure!
Cure (Basic 1)
Relieves minor status ailment for 100 mana
“Now go. Come back after you are done.”
Thus, Naomi was sent back to the militia camp to complete her assignment with two new abilities at her disposal. Hours later, she was back in the same house again receiving further guidance from Magdelene.
“Ahem, we clerics have only one skill in common with our fellow brethren – the heal skill. The rest of our skills are actually derived from whichever deity we follow. For example, both you and I follow Taerra, so our skills would be more related to Nature and the Earth than a Cleric following the God of Death, Lorq.”
Magdalene coughed, perhaps unused to saying such long sentences.
“Her blessings give us strength for our causes.”
You have gained the skill: Taerra’s Perseverance
Taerra’s Perseverance (Basic 1)
+ 10 strength
+ 10 stamina
For 15 minutes to applied target
“Try it out.”
True enough, the moment Naomi activated the skill she felt power rushing through her veins. She had also become sturdier and able to withstand more damage. Maybe this could work out for her in the long run. Instead of relying on flashy attacks and weapons to dominate her foes, she would instead buff herself and defeat them based on her own martial art skills - something she had always wanted to do and have been doing in the first place. Healing and self-healing would just be an added boon for survivability.
The more she thought about it, the more Naomi began to feel that becoming a cleric was a good choice. She could sense the thrill of battle pulsating in her blood already.
“That would be all I can teach you for now. Taerra herself will guide you in the future. Oh, I almost forgot. Being clerics entitles us to a few useful skills at our disposal.”
You have gained the skill: Taerra’s Aid (Party)
Taerra’s Aid
Cooldown: Base 12 hours (Increases with distance)
Summons party members to your side from anywhere in the continent.
You have gained the skill: Taerra’s Call (Single)
Taerra’s Call
Cooldown: Base 1 day (Increases with distance)
Summons a targeted person to your side from anywhere in the continent
“Do you have anyone to try it out on? A friend perhaps?”
Naomi nodded. The only person she knew in Ages Online was Sebast. If she had remembered correctly, his in-game name would be Beast. However, she had not found time to add him as a friend yet, and neither had he tried to contact her as well.
“Friend Invite: Beast.”
A few seconds later, a notification came.
Pon!
Beast has accepted your friend invitation!
That was good. Now, to add him into a party and try out the summon spell.
“Party Invite: Beast.”
Beast has refused your party invitation!
Naomi raised an eyebrow. How dare he refuse! Sebast will be suffering a lot more during their next training session, she will make sure of that.
“Party Invite: Beast.”
Beast has refused your party invitation!
Again.
Naomi clicked her tongue in displeasure. If he wanted to act like this, then she would just have to summon him individually.
“Taerra’s Call: Beast.”
For a second, nothing happened. A few moments after, a white light answered her call and Beast along with all his wares he had set up his shop for materialized in the quaint house in the suburbs of Loyderidge.
Next Chapter
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Author's Notes:
I am sorry to announce that new chapters may be released a little slower, due to the fact that I have a report and a presentation to prepare for this following week and the next.
Besides that, please enjoy my story!
Cheers.