We stood in the center of a massive circular room. Broken wooden beams and debris were scattered across the stone floor, remnants of what had once been a magnificent amphitheater. The sweet, sickly smell of rot and old dust lingered in the stagnant air, making every breath feel heavy. Beams of sunlight peeked shyly through the gaping holes in the domed ceiling, their golden glow fighting against the oppressive shadows. Around us lay the smoldering remains of the Tharrans we’d been battling for the past hour, their twisted forms still faintly smoking. The acrid stench of burnt flesh and fur mingled with the haze, making it a struggle to see and even harder to breathe.
This was the second wave of monsters we’d fought since getting trapped in what looked like a long abandoned school.
From his perch on an overturned desk, Bel’vorgar’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and commanding.
“Take your positions! Another wave is coming.”
We were a mess. My body was a tapestry of still-healing cuts and bruises, and the elves didn’t look much better, their polished armor dented and splattered with grime. But despite the exhaustion etched into every face, we each moved to our place without hesitation.
I was beginning to understand how this team worked, falling into their rhythm like a cog in a well oiled machine. Bel’vorgar and Sylvan’dar softened the advancing enemies from range, their arrows and elemental bolts cutting down the first line with ruthless precision. Meanwhile, Ilin’dar darted through the chaos like a shadow, targeting the backline with crippling blows that slowed the Tharrans’ relentless advance.
Joro’gar held the front line, his massive shield absorbing the brunt of the assault, while Thal’gar stood behind the ranged fighters, ready to heal or cast supportive spells. And then there was me, somewhere in between, trying to find my place.
Joro’gar had already saved me more than once, his shield interposing between me and certain death when I overstepped. I’d been using my spear and spikes to relieve pressure wherever I could, but it wasn’t enough. Not yet.
Then, the third wave began.
A guttural Tharran war cry echoed through the amphitheater, primal and furious, as the next horde poured in.
The first line of creatures fell almost instantly to the combined force of Sylvan’dar’s elemental bolts and Bel’vorgar’s pinpoint arrows. The room filled with the dull thuds of bodies hitting the ground, but the Tharrans didn’t falter. Stepping over their fallen, they advanced, feral hunger glinting in their beady eyes. Some stayed behind to feast on the freshly slain, their grotesque chewing sounds mixing with the din of combat.
Chunks of wood and jagged stones began raining down on us from the advancing horde, forcing us to duck and weave to avoid them. Sylvan’dar was careful not to use fire this time,earlier attempts had left the amphitheater choking with smoke and still burning debris that threatened to engulf us all.
“Stay close!” Joro’gar roared, his voice steady even under the onslaught.
He charged forward, slamming into the first group with his shield. The Tharrans were sent sprawling, but they scrambled back to their feet with unnatural agility. I threw spikes at his flanks, picking off enemies that tried to surround him, while Joro’gar hacked through the ones in front with brutal efficiency.
Three Tharrans lunged at him, their clawed hands gripping the rim of his shield as they snarled and snapped. I leapt into action.
With an overhead swing, I drove the sharpened crossguard of my spear into the first Tharran’s skull. The sound was sickening—a wet crunch followed by the squelch of bone and brain matter as I yanked the weapon free. Dark blood sprayed across my jacket , but I didn’t stop.
I pivoted, stabbing the second Tharran through the temple. Its body went limp instantly, collapsing against its ally. As the third one struggled beneath the weight of its fallen comrade, I plunged my spear into its throat, cutting off its gurgling screams.
Before I could catch my breath, a sharp rock struck me across the cheek, leaving a jagged line of fresh blood. I hissed in pain, but before I could even register the wound fully, a wave of refreshing energy washed over me. The stinging pain vanished as Thal’gar’s healing aura closed the cut in seconds.
I turned to him and gave a quick nod of gratitude. He smiled back, the kind of smile that made you feel like you weren’t fighting alone.
For the first time in a long while, I felt a strange comfort in the chaos. I still didn’t belong here,not really. My movements were clumsy compared to the fluid precision of the elves, but I was learning. I was improving. And even if I still had a long way to go, I wasn’t dead yet. That had to count for something.
The remaining Tharrans faltered as we picked them off one by one. Ilin’dar darted through their ranks like a blade through silk, and soon the last of them crumpled to the floor.
We regrouped near the crumbling stage of the amphitheater. The air was heavy with the scent of death, but for the moment, it was over.
Joro’gar turned to me, his expression uncharacteristically warm. “Thanks for the save. Those bastards are stronger than they look.”
I shrugged, uncomfortable with the compliment. “Don’t worry about it. You’ve saved my ass more times than I can count already.”
Bel’vorgar snorted, his icy gaze sweeping over me. “Good job, team.” He purposely avoided looking in my direction as he added, “And human, stop stepping in front of the tank. See that big shield he’s holding? That’s his job. Next time you step out of line, don’t come crying to me when you get an arrow in your ass.”
I opened my mouth to retort but stopped. He wasn’t wrong, and I knew it.
Ilin’dar slapped me on the backside and grinned. “Maybe that’s what he wants.”
Sylvan’dar rolled her eyes, her voice exasperated. “Ilin, stop messing around and do your thing. It’s time to move on.”
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We exited the school and moved cautiously from building to building, cutting down groups of Tharrans and the occasional pack of Luppits that crossed our path. Each encounter was quick and brutal, leaving us more drained and battered, but we pressed on, determined to reach the center of the city.
Finally, we emerged into a massive plaza. A grand mansion loomed at its center, defiant against the decay of the city around it. Its walls were covered in ivy, its stone facade weathered but still regal. The mansion sat in stark contrast to the surrounding ruins, almost as if mocking the desolation.
The problem, however, was the open expanse between us and it. The wide plaza offered no cover ,just broken cobblestones and patches of dry grass stretching out like a deathtrap.
Bel’vorgar was the first to speak, his eyes scanning the area with a frown. “Do you think it’s worth it? I don’t doubt there’s some worthwhile loot in that mansion, but crossing this plaza leaves us completely exposed.”
Ilin’dar’s eyes lit up at the mention of loot, practically bouncing on her heels. “Come on, it’s not that far! And we’re almost out of time—let’s not leave empty handed!”
Bel’vorgar tapped his chin, his calculating gaze fixed on the mansion. “It’s risky. Too risky. Let’s put it to a vote.”
The group fell silent as they considered the proposition. Bel’vorgar and Sylvan’dar immediately voted against it, while Ilin’dar and Joro’gar were adamantly in favor. Thal’gar hesitated but eventually sided with the others who wanted to go for it.
All eyes turned to me.
“Well?” Bel’vorgar asked, his tone sharper than usual. “Do you need an invitation?”
“Uh…” I faltered, caught off guard by the sudden spotlight. I didn’t want to overstep, but my gut told me it was doable. “Okay, I’m in. Let’s go for it.”
Bel’vorgar sighed, clearly dissatisfied but unwilling to argue further. “Fine. Joro, take the rear. Ilin, scout ahead and make sure the front room of the mansion is clear. If we need cover, we’ll sprint for it. Let’s hustle.”
Ilin’dar shot forward, darting between the sparse debris with her usual catlike grace. The rest of us moved as quickly as we dared, our footsteps echoing unnervingly in the still air.
The plaza was eerily quiet, save for the howling wind that whistled through the ruins. Each step felt heavier than the last, the mansion seeming to grow farther away instead of closer.
We were halfway across when the silence shattered.
A guttural war cry rose from all around us, followed by the unmistakable sound of pounding feet and clattering claws. Tharrans.
Before we could react, they began pelting us with a hail of debris ,jagged stones, shards of glass, and splintered wood raining down like deadly missiles.
“Move!” Bel’vorgar barked.
Joro’gar raised his shield to cover our backs as we broke into a desperate sprint. I could hear the steady thuds of projectiles slamming into his shield, the noise blending with the chaos around us.
I glanced back and saw him falter. His massive frame sagged under the weight of his dented armor, one knee hitting the ground with a loud clang.
Thal’gar skidded to a stop, concern etched across his face, but Joro’gar’s shout cut through the commotion.
“Keep moving, you idiots!”
The healer hesitated, but Bel’vorgar grabbed him by the shoulder, practically shoving him forward. Thal’gar’s face was stricken with grief, but he obeyed.
Without thinking, I turned back.
Joro’gar’s leg was twisted at an unnatural angle, his teeth gritted in pain. I slid to my knees behind him, taking cover behind his battered shield.
“What are you doing?!” he growled. “Run, you fool!”
“Shut up and let me think,” I snapped, my heart pounding.
What the hell was I doing? I wasn’t a hero. I barely knew this guy, why was I risking my life for him? But it was too late to back out now.
Summoning all the strength I could muster, I manifested wires from my back and secured him to me. His weight was staggering, every step a monumental effort, but I pushed forward.
Joro’gar held his shield above us, the constant thuds of debris a grim reminder of how close we were to disaster. My legs burned, my breaths coming in ragged gasps, but we pressed on.
Finally, we reached the mansion.
The others rushed to pull us inside, slamming the heavy door shut behind us. I dropped Joro’gar onto the floor and collapsed beside him, my chest heaving.
Ilin’dar threw herself at me, her face streaked with tears and snot. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she cried, her voice muffled as she buried her face in my shoulder.
The others crowded around Joro’gar, Thal’gar already kneeling to heal his broken leg. Bel’vorgar approached me, his expression unreadable.
For a moment, I thought he might scold me. Instead, he extended a hand, pulling me to my feet.
“We’re forever in your debt,” he said solemnly. “What you did was… honorable.”
Sylvan’dar gripped my other hand, her lips trembling. She didn’t say a word, but the gratitude in her eyes was clear.
Joro’gar winced, his voice strained. “That was incredibly foolish, Alex… but I owe you my life. Thank you.”
I waved him off, my face flushing. “None of that. You would’ve done the same for me. Hell, you were doing the same thing, covering us.”
After a few minutes of rest, I decided to check my progress.
Name: Alex
Titles: Ascendant (???)
Level: 50 (12980/13260)
Attributes:
* Astral Body: 38
* Astral Mind: 69 (+4)
* Astral Spirit: 41
Skills:
* Levitation (Common) – Level 17
* Manifestation (Common) – Level 36
* Astral Sight (Common) – Level 17
* Inspection (Common) – Level 15
* Astral Echo (Unique) – Level 6
Quest: Shatterstone Assault – Completed
+1000 EXP
* Circlet of Revealing
My skills and attributes were progressing at a satisfying pace, each battle sharpening my abilities and bolstering my strength. Yet, my unique skill, Astral Echo, remained stubbornly stagnant. It wasn’t that I lacked the opportunity to use it—deep down, I knew that wasn't the real reason.
Something held me back, a nagging reluctance to reveal it, even to my newfound companions. Perhaps it was an instinct, a gut feeling that told me this skill was more than it seemed—something I needed to keep hidden until the right moment. Or maybe it was fear, a quiet voice whispering that unleashing its power might set something in motion I wasn’t ready to face.
A simple bronze circlet appeared in my hand.
Circlet of Revealing (Uncommon)
A standard accessory used by magic researchers across the realms.
* +4 Astral Sight
* +6 Astral Spirit
Ilin’dar clapped her hands enthusiastically. “You finished a quest! Congrats!”
“Yeah, I guess it must’ve completed back in the school. Didn’t even notice.”
I slipped the circlet onto my head, and it adjusted perfectly to fit. “So… is it rude to ask if I can inspect you guys?”
They laughed, and Bel’vorgar smirked. “Normally, yes. But you’ve earned the right.”
I activated Inspection, glancing at each of them in turn.
* Bel’vorgar: Level 82
* Sylvan’dar: Level 74
* Ilin’dar and Joro’gar: Level 71
* Thal’gar: Level 67
“Thanks, guys,” I said, grinning. “You still outlevel me by a mile. I need to up my game.”
Joro’gar clapped me on the shoulder. “And yet you kept up with us. You’ll catch up in no time.”
Ilin’dar beamed, patting me on the back. “No better time than now! Let’s get that loot!”
Reinvigorated, we stood and headed deeper into the mansion, our sights set on whatever treasures lay within