"What do you mean by that?" Thorian asked, a hint of concern in his voice. "We have only killed two guardians."

Ventus's brows furrowed in puzzlement. "But, how? Weren't you the ones who killed it? I was certain it was you," he said, referencing the announcement they had all heard.

Zogarth stepped forward, his expression grave. "Something unforeseen has occurred," he said solemnly. "We must return to the northern gate immediately to ascertain the situation."

Thorian nodded in agreement, then turned to Forlune. "We must move quickly."

With that, the newly united forces made haste towards the northern gate. Upon arrival, they were greeted by a scene of destruction. The gate lay in ruins, the remnants of battle strewn about, yet notably absent were the telltale signs of magical combat.

Aqua surveyed the scene thoughtfully. "The guardian's slayer must fight in an unusual manner," she mused. "Could it have been mere warriors?"

"That remains to be seen," Thorian replied, then addressed his troops. "Search the area thoroughly. Report anything of significance."

As the army combed through the battlefield, Thorian's examination was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Alacritas.

"My lord," announced the assassin with a tone of significance, "we have uncovered something that may intrigue you."

Thorian gave a curt nod. "Lead on."

He followed Alacritas, and they soon arrived at a spot encircled by a group of assassins. "Clear the way," Alacritas commanded, and the assassins obediently stepped aside, revealing their find to Thorian.

Before him lay an enormous, color-drained feather, wedged between the gnarled roots of the earth. Thorian's gaze lingered on its pallid hue. The manifestation of decay, he thought, realizing its fragility without needing to touch it. No, this is more - the essence of death itself.

With a heavy heart, Thorian turned to his companion. "We must leave at once. Lingering here could prove harmful to those less resistant to the deathly aura."

He then addressed Alacritas with clear authority. "Inform the generals to rally the troops. We return to Wolvendale."

"As you command, my lord," Alacritas said, bowing slightly before vanishing with the other assassins.

Thorian, left to his thoughts, gazed towards the city. A closer vigilance is required within these walls, he concluded.

Thus, he led his army back to Wolvendale. The journey was marked by an eerie calm; no creature dared cross their formidable path. Approaching home, Thorian resolved to master his newly acquired skill and, with a decisive motion, tore the parchment in half.

Lightning Discharge has been learned

Lightning Discharge Description You transform into a conduit for lightning energy. When activated, it discharges a potent electrical blast in all directions, causing significant area damage and paralyzing enemies with intense force. Proficiency 0%

As it had been a long time since he had checked his status, Thorian decided to display it.

Display Panel.

Ding

Race Flame Kobold Level 25/30 (exp: 2390/9500) Class Elemental Magus Level 22/40 (exp: 543/10000) Lifespan 40 years Cultivation realm Qi Gathering Fifth Stage (1.2%) Stats Strength 111 Agility 123 Constitution 102 Mana 104 Qi 100 Free Points 20

Thorian allowed himself a brief, smirking contemplation. 'Nearing my second evolution,' he mused. 'I'm curious what special variants might be offered as my choices.'

But he quickly dismissed these fanciful thoughts, redirecting his focus to immediate priorities. 'First, I must assess the development of my skills.'

With purpose, he summoned the display window, bringing up the details of the three skills that were his primary concern.

Fire Pillar Description You summon a towering pillar of roaring flames from the ground at a target location. This causes scorching and burning damage to all enemies in its proximity. Proficiency 34.3%

Wind Tornado Description

You summon a swirling vortex of violent winds, forming a small tornado at a chosen location. The tornado pulls in nearby enemies, dealing continuous wind damage and potentially launching smaller foes into the air, disrupting their actions.

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Proficiency 34.3%

Minor Elemental Affinity Description

You possess a rare affinity for all elements, marking you as a unique existence. All elemental skills that you invoke are more potent and effective than usual.

Proficiency 21.3%

Thorian studied the skill metrics, noting the steady progress of the first two, but the elemental affinity proved more challenging. It might take over a week to advance this, he pondered, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Lost in these calculations, he barely noticed their arrival at Wolvendale's outer walls. As the gates swung open, Zogarth approached him with a question.

"Forgive my forwardness, my lord, but have we discerned who slew the last guardian?" Zogarth inquired.

Thorian took a moment to gather his thoughts. "We've detected death energy at the site. It suggests a necromancer, or a similar class, might be involved."

"A necromancer, my lord?" Zogarth's brow furrowed. "Does such a class truly exist?"

"It's a rare specialization," Thorian clarified. "There are various unique classes, many wielding death magic. But this is mere speculation."

Zogarth nodded, impressed. "Your wisdom is truly vast, my lord."

Thorian dismissed the praise with a shake of his head. "It’s not wisdom, just knowledge I acquired." He then issued a command. "Tonight, ease your efforts. The integration of the goblins should lessen the guard's burden."

As Zogarth set to work, Thorian turned to his final task before entering the village. He sought out Alacritas, the silver assassin.

"Alacritas," he called, and the assassin appeared, bowing. "I have a task for you."

"Anything you command, my lord," Alacritas replied.

"Starting tomorrow, I want you and your team to scrutinize Locksley's activities and report back. This is after your dungeon duties, of course," Thorian instructed.

Alacritas nodded in understanding, ready to carry out Thorian's orders.

Thorian watched as Alacritas faded into the shadows, then made his way into the village. There was one last stop he had to make before retiring for the night.

Approaching the blacksmith's workshop, he noted the still-lit forge and the smoke curling from the chimney. 'Who could be working at such a late hour?' he wondered, a smile tugging at his lips.

Inside, he found a young kobold engrossed in his work, rhythmically hammering a sword blade, then cooling it in water. The kobold was so focused that he didn't notice Thorian's presence.

Thorian, respecting the craftsman's dedication, chose not to interrupt. He simply observed in silence, admiring the kobold's skill and dedication.

After an hour, the kobold paused, wiping sweat from his brow, and finally noticed Thorian. Startled, he stammered, "My lord? Were you waiting to use the forge? I apologize for any inconvenience."

Thorian chuckled, shaking his head. "No, I was simply admiring your work. How are you progressing with your blacksmithing class and skill?"

The young blacksmith's eyes widened, a mix of embarrassment and pride evident in his gaze. "I'm honored, my lord," he murmured. "I've reached level 11, and my blacksmithing skill is at 73% proficiency."

Thorian's response was enthusiastic. "Impressive progress! Your talent and hard work are clearly evident."

Flustered by the praise, the blacksmith stuttered, "I'm unworthy of such commendation, my lord."

"Nonsense," Thorian countered, stepping closer. "Tell me your name."

The blacksmith hesitated, then confessed, "I have not been given a name, my lord."

Realizing the oversight, Thorian expressed his regret. "Then henceforth, you shall be known as Faber, the old word for 'Iron'."

The newly named Faber was overwhelmed, nearly bowing deeply in gratitude. "To receive a name from you, my lord, is an immense honor!"

"Stand with pride, Faber," Thorian encouraged, gently lifting the blacksmith's chin. "And now, I have something to share with you."

Thorian reached into his pocket and withdrew the elemental orbs, presenting them to Faber. "Do you recognize these?" he asked.

Faber, awestruck by their beauty, shook his head. "No, my lord, but they are magnificent."

"These are elemental orbs," Thorian revealed. "They're used to forge elemental weaponry. I want you to craft a weapon with them."

Faber was hesitant, overwhelmed by the responsibility. "But, my lord, these are exceedingly precious. I lack the expertise for such a task."

Thorian offered an encouraging smile. "You're right, but that will change. As you advance your skills and class, you will become a magic blacksmith. The knowledge you need will come naturally."

Faber's eyes widened with amazement. "Really?"

"Yes," Thorian affirmed. "That's why you must continue to hone your skills, to reach that level as swiftly as possible."

With a determined gulp, Faber nodded. "I will do my utmost not to let you down, my lord."

Thorian patted Faber's shoulder warmly. "I have faith in you. For now, continue with your work. We will meet again soon."

Leaving Faber to his newfound purpose, Thorian exited the workshop, heading home. The day had been eventful, and the morrow held further promise.

* * *

Nalia’s POV

The city was awash with chaos – the screeches of goblins, the thunderous roars of chaksas, and the desperate screams of men and women seeking refuge among the ruins. In the midst of this tumultuous backdrop, Nalia and her two trusted lieutenants, Ragnar and Soren, navigated the debris-laden streets.

“That kobold's power was otherworldly,” Soren remarked, slicing through the heavy silence. “And his horde of monsters? Formidable adversaries, without a doubt.”

“Formidable?” Ragnar retorted dismissively. “Please. I'd snap that kobold's neck before he could even flicker a spell my way.” His gaze then shifted to Nalia, his tone tinged with frustration. “So why the hell didn't we engage when they were here? A surprise attack during their skirmish with the guardian could've meant the end of their lord.”

Soren shook his head, a mix of disbelief and exasperation in his voice. “You fail to grasp the gravity of our situation. Kill their lord, then what? You think we'd stand a chance fleeing from a legion like that?”

He turned to Nalia, a hint of respect in his eyes. “Well, perhaps she could evade them, but we'd be dead men walking.”

Ragnar scoffed, his words laced with scorn. “Your cowardice never ceases to amaze. If you're afraid, just admit it. Don't lump me in with your fears.”

Nalia, witnessing the rising tension between her subordinates, interjected with a calm authority. “Our mission was never to confront that monster army head-on. Engaging them without fully understanding their capabilities would be reckless at best.”

Soren cast a smug glance at Ragnar, “See? Told you.”

Ragnar merely grumbled in response, his pride bruised.

Nalia, with a hint of triumph in her smile, raised her hand, drawing attention to the ring on her index finger. It pulsed with a dark, ominous aura, akin to the shadow of death itself. “Besides, we've already secured our victory,” she declared. “The guardian now answers to us.”