Jimothy War Magerson III, alias Mothy for those who were not entirely fond of him, was currently punching a wall over and over again. The living wood on his hands was getting bloodied and knolled, but indeed this was all part of his plan. See, Mothy had read a book titled Defying Walls: Punching Your Way to the Next Level that detailed the intricate craft of quickly leveling up your system by way of a technique known as grinding.
And that was precisely what Mothy was presently taking part in - he was grinding in order to get better and better at fighting, so that this fugitive that had clearly convinced his father to leap out the window and abandon him forever would finally be brought to their knees if they were still alive.
Now, of course, Mothy was still a little unsure about the whole 'if they were still alive' part. But, he had a few ideas on how to figure that much out. But before that, he needed to level up - he could feel it in his lower back. Mothy stopped punching the wall and smiled, watching the blood drip from his closed fist. This was all worth it.
[Level up]
[Congratulations, you've reached level 16]
Nice, thought Mothy.
[You have 1 skill slot available. Would you like to select a skill now?]
Perfect. Mothy had been hoping to obtain a [skill] slot soon - it would be his first [skill]. How exciting.
[Excellent. The following skills are available for selection:]
[Blinding Rage]
[Punch of Fury]
[Instrument of Anger]
Mothy noted that all of his available [skills] seemed somewhat tied to how he'd felt as he'd leveled up. This seemed to confirm the rumors he'd heard that leveling up was more of a nurture versus nature experience, wherein you would level differently depending on how you felt and what you were presently trying to accomplish. With that in mind, Mothy was excited to learn more about each of these new potential [skills]. He wanted desperately to pick the most lethal, and these looked quite promising.
[Blinding Rage]
[Activate this skill and you will experience a fury like no other - if you aren't angry, it will make you angry. Immediately on activation, all of your attack-based ability points will triple. However, as you will be blinded by rage, you'll become literally blind, and your INT will decrease by twenty percent for the entirety of time the skill is activated. Your hearing will become twice as good in order to semi-compensate for this loss. This skill can stay active until you run out of STM.]
Mothy felt conflicted about this [skill]. Sure, the idea that he would be able to quickly triple his [attribute] points for any amount of time was attractive and exciting, and sounded like a great asset in a fight - however, at the same time, it came with a huge drawback of losing his sight whenever he activated it. How could Mothy reconcile such a [skill]? He hoped that some of the other options might serve him better without taking something away from him. Mothy had been under the impression that [skills] always improved and never took anything away from someone, so this had unfortunately been a bit of a disappointment.
[Punch of Fury]
[As long as you are angry, your punches will no longer be just simple punches - they will have a strength and weight to them proportional to 1.5 times your present amount of anger. That is to say, this skill will require you to be angry in order to properly utilize it, but as long as you are angry, your fists will respond proportionally to that anger with their own power and malice. This is a melee-first skill, however, certain other attacks that make use of other weapons in tandem with your fists may also sometimes benefit from this.]
Now that was more like it! This [Punch of Fury] seemed more like a [skill] that Mothy could get behind. Of course, it was a little intimidating to think that he'd have to maintain a base layer of anger in order to put it to use - however, on the other hand, it didn't take a concrete ability point level or anything like that, which meant that if Mothy was simply super angry, he'd get a benefit from this [skill] that outweighed something that matched a higher [attribute] point level - only, there was less growth potential, he figured. Then again, Mothy knew that leveling up a [skill] always had the opportunity to change it - he'd read enough about [skills] and systems - so maybe that wouldn't even be a problem in the future. Surely, Mothy was leaning towards this [skill] at the moment. Still, he needed to cover his bases and look at all three [skills] to be certain.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
[Instrument of Anger]
[This skill involves invoking, at your will, the transferrence of your own energy onto an inanimate object. This object must be no larger than half of your physical volume. This object will, on invocation, respond at will to your emotions in order to become a willing syncophant that will fight alongside you on your behalf. The object will have a third of your HP and will stay animated and ready to fight either until it runs out of HP, until your fight ends, or until three hours passes.]
Mothy had something to think about, now. At first, he'd been all but completely sold on the idea of taking [Punch of Fury] as his chosen [skill]. That being said, [Instrument of Anger] seemed absolutely fascinating and unique. Mothy wasn't sure if he could pass up what seemed to be such a unique and flexible [skill]. Along with that, Mothy knew that he'd have the opportunity to level the [skill] up at some point - which only made him feel more strongly that [Instrument of Anger] might be the best option for himself.
[Skill selected]
[Instrument of Anger]
Time flashed back in step, unfrozen once again as Mothy finished his leveling. He felt great, and he was excited to use his [skill]. However, before he could do that, he needed to figure out whether this fugitive his father had fought was still alive or not, and if so, to plan out enacting his revenge.
Good thing that Mothy knew something that not many people did. That is to say, he knew something that his dad knew - something he wasn't necessarily supposed to know.
It had all happened back when Mothy was only about ten years old. His dad had rushed out of the house after seeing some strange lights in the sky over Gifflenberg. And he'd left the door open to his study, the study he always kept locked and bolted away fro everyone.
Mothy, naturally for a child of his age, was dying to see what was in the study. So, he went on in with excitement, and spotted something curious. It was a small pendant bearing an image of an eyeball with fish swimming around in the iris as if it were but a pool of water. Next to that pendant, was a small sending shell. It was purple, and unusual color for sending shells as it denoted a burner shell - one that had a certain number of limited uses before it would automatically incinerate forever, and what was more, it was one without any beads or dials. Which meant that it could only call one person.
Compelled by curiousity and nosiness, the young Mothy had immediately grabbed the shell and activated it, hearing the ringing of the gull cries before a deep, shadowy voice had answered.
"Hello? Jimothy Junior, is that you? Why are you calling again? I thought you told me that you were already on your way to meet with the Order of Ahw Gizer regarding the beacon, why are you wasting time calling back now?"
Young Mothy gasped and set the shell down. The voice had called out hello a few more times before chalking it up to a butt dial and hanging up. They had probably, whoever they were, completely forgotten about that call. But Mothy never did.
And so it was that Mothy, still young, but older than back then, and presently full of rage, suddenly felt like it was time to see if he could find any shells like that his his father's study. After all, he'd done some research after that fateful call - he didn't know much about the Order of Ahw Gizer, because there weren't many records or texts that covered them, but he did know that the Order was a secretive group that was often rumored to pull political strings around the Gifflenberg area at the least, and that at most it was part of an interconnected web of secretive, diplomatic groups across Nomachiato.
He walked up to the door and fiddled with the knob. Locked, of course - and, from what Mothy could glean, it was also glowing with [enchantment]. That is to say, it wasn't just locked, it was sealed by way of magic. Figures.
Mothy immediately found himself spiraling into rage. Why hadn't he picked that other [skill], the one that had let his power scale with his anger? That would've been perfect for this situation, but now he was just sealed out!
Only... Mothy remembered something else about his father. He remembered that he had another place in the house where he liked to stash things. It was this old mead cask that appeared otherwise crusty and disgusting, but nonetheless persisted throughout the household. Mothy had seen his father stashing money in it before.
Mothy tiptoed down the stairs and into the living room. There the cask was, perched atop a tall cabinet brimming with unread books. Mothy smiled and clambered over. He had to stand up on his tiptoes to reach, but soon enough he grabbed the cask and popped its false bottom open, just as he'd spied his father doing so many times before. There were a couple pence, which of course was great, but along with that there was indeed a small seal of the Order of Ahw Gizer, and along with that a small sheet of paper with strange numbers scrawled over it. Mothy squinted, trying to make out what they said.
"Jimothy War Magerson III, what on Nomachiato are you doing downstairs at this hour?"
Mothy cringed as the angry tone of none of than his mother's voice echoed through the room , and an overhead light shot on. He scrambled to hide the cask. Now, he was in for it.