I stayed up late to read. The herbology book was still at the bottom of my backpack, forgotten as I read through ancient reports illuminated by the flickering light of a candle.
Report, Seventh of Harvest
Apprehended drunk bard at Well Inn Good, began a brawl with local musicians over ‘the quality of the music.’ Minor property damage evaluated at two sil, three cop. Confined in cell overnight until sober.
-Overseer Hardy
A bard. Was it Bonesy a long time ago?
Report, Eight of Harvest
Mana fluctuations detected by local mages including alchemist. No sighting of the adventuring party sent out to the Dunwich dungeon.
-Overseer Hardy
A dungeon? Those were a thing here?
Report two, Eight of Harvest
Large mana shifts. Felt them myself. Worried someone might have damaged the dungeon core. Guard rotation C spotted someone in the forests in green. Imperials? This far out? It could explain the shifts in local mana. Doubled the guards just in case. Sent a scout to the Dunwich Dungeon.
-Overseer Hardy
Things were getting interesting, very interesting. A dungeon sounded like a neat place to visit, and there was a lot of talk here about mana as if it was a thing that was just... in the air. I wondered if the mana here was thick or thin and if I would be able to tell the difference.
Report, Ninth of Harvest
Dunwich dungeon was destroyed. The shifts in mana are the ley lines snapping apart. Spoke to the mayor. She doesn’t want to evacuate but we have no choice, not with Imperials so close and the mana turning like this. No news of the adventuring team sent out. Still have their bard in a cell. Will release him later.
More imperial sightings. Hopefully they’ll let a group of civilians pass unharmed.
-Overseer Hardy
And that was it. No more reports, just a few blank pages. So there were ley lines for magic. And Bonesy the Bard had been part of an adventuring group. That was kind of neat! Good on him. Not so good was how he had caused trouble at the Inn. He was just as poorly behaved in life as he was in death.
Ding! For repeating a Special Action a sufficient number of times you have unlocked the skill: Archaeology!
I smiled and blew out the candle, then shifted until sleep took me at long last.
***
I woke up feeling refreshed. Not at my best, and my tummy still rumbled for food that wasn’t honey, but the pall of depression was lifted and I felt my face twisting back into my usual smile. Then I unleashed a blast of cleaning magic at myself and shivered as mana coursed over my body and clothes. It was like taking a shower but better.
Standing up, I stretched, ran through an abridged version of my morning routine (I’d give all of my silver for a toothbrush and paste) then stepped outside after making sure the coast was clear of ghosts.
Today was the day I would take on the wraith. But first, I had a church to explore and a sickly sweet breakfast to lick.
I strolled across the ghost town, spoon in mouth and attention swivelling around to take in everything. Things had changed in the two short days I had been here. There had been grass when I first came out, but it was brown and feeble and kind of sad. Now bushes were sprouting up everywhere and the grass was thick and lush and vibrant. The entire world seemed more alive, somehow.
Was it because there were fewer ghosts?
I couldn’t believe that level one monsters were that strong. But then again, the ghosts couldn’t be hurt through normal means. Maybe the animals and such were careful and cautious around them--proving once more than the average animal was smarter than little old me.
The church was a stately building, even with fresh vines climbing up its sides and huge holes poked through its stained glass windows. It looked like the kind of place that local weddings would be held in, and where a nice old priest would try to help people with their problems and all the old ladies would gather to trade the juiciest gossip.
There was a sense of lost serenity around the building, a sensation that took me a long time to name and would take longer to get used to. It would have felt wrong to scream and shout or fight.
I pushed open the front door and slid into the main hall. It was a single large room with rows of wooden benches all facing a trio of stone altars. Dust swirled in the air and the light, most of it pouring through the mosaic windows, coloured the entire room in a spectrum of soft blues and greens and reds.
“Hello?” I asked as I moved in. Only silence greeted me. I moved through the room, careful to be as quiet and respectful as I could until I was at the altars. They were all different. Did they practice one faith with many gods here, or were there many religions housed in one church?
The first altar had a small stone chalice built into it, with stone grapes and fruit around its base. The second had a carving of an arm holding an axe engraved atop it and the third had a statue of an archway reaching from one side to the other.
Strange, disparate symbols with meanings I could only guess at. Most buried under a layer of dust. Three quick flashes of magic cleared the altars, leaving them as the only untouched things in the entire room. A strange dichotomy, maybe.
I bowed to the three altars and moved on. There was nothing for me here.
According to my map I still had five houses to explore, but I doubted I would find anything incredible there. No, my goal at that moment was to face the wraith and inspect the hole. I could return to exploring at any time after that.
The monster was hovering over the opened pit, twisting and turning and writhing in the air as if it was wracked with pain. Pain that it almost seemed to enjoy. Now that I was closer I could hear its delighted howls, the almost ecstatic moans that it made as jolts of... something coursed through it.
Whatever the wraith was feeding on came from the hole. Evil mana, maybe? I could only guess.
My backpack was left on the doorstep of a nearby home. I took a moment to go over my plan, as simple as it was. I was going to go out and attack the wraith, first with the showerhead-flail I had, then by throwing my magic wand through it. Then, if it was sufficiently distracted, I would use my cleaning spell on it.
If things went well that would be enough to clear it out.
The very first step though, of course, was to talk to it.
Maybe it was a nice evil wraith? “Insight.”
An evil wraith, level 2.
Maybe not. But I wouldn’t hit someone in the back without at least trying to talk first. Anything else would just be wrong.
I sat back and ate another spoonful of honey as I looked over my many skills.
Name Broccoli Bunch Race Human First Class Cinnamon Bun First Class Level 1 Age 16 Health
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
105
Stamina
115
Mana
105
Resilience
15
Flexibility
20
Magic
10
Skills Rank Cinnamon Bun Skills Cleaning C - 14% General Skills Insight E - 97% Makeshift Weapon Proficiency F - 42% Archeology F - 15%
I was quite the warrior it seemed. “Soon,” I whispered in the deepest darkest voice I could manage. It came out squeaky, but it was the thought that counted! “Everyone across all the realms will learn to respect the might of Broccoli the great Cinnamon Bun!”
I might have been able to get Insight up another level, but that didn’t feel necessary, or even helpful in a fight. Makeshift weapons would have been a good skill to level, but I wasn’t sure how to do that except to fight some more, and there wasn’t anything left to fight that I had seen so far.
Well, ghosts didn’t generally move very fast. I would try against this one and see how things worked out. Worse case, I was an excellent runner.
I stepped out into the morning sunlight, makeshift flail hanging by my side, mana topped off at max and a determined frown on my face. I walked over to the evil well of evilness until I was only a few dozen paces away. “Hello!” I called out.
The wraith paused in its weird wriggling and turned.
My blood ran cold.
The wraith screamed.
You have heard the screech of a fearsome creature! Your soul is shaken.
My breathing hitched and I had a sudden urge to run to the nearest bathroom as the monster tore through the sky towards me. Its hands stretched and shifted, turning into long, scythe-like claws.
I snapped out of it just in time to hop backwards and narrowly avoid the first swing. The wraith screamed again, but this time I was a little more ready for it and managed not to pee my skirts. Instead I flung my showerhead flail at the monster and almost fainted when it bounced off its face.
The wraith flinched back, face leaking the same plumes of dust the ghosts had, though in far smaller quantities.
It spun around and charged at me again.
I rolled out of its path, then tossed the magic wand that merely booped its chest and left only the tiniest of wounds.
Not enough, not nearly enough.
I started spinning the flail around and around until it hummed through the air. The wraith came at me again, its one track mind not terribly suited to thinking, it seemed. My flail crashed into its hand, a spark of magic burst from the impact, the wraith screeched, though now in pain rather than anger.
“I’m sorry,” I said as I lunged closer to it and pressed a hand against its chest. “Clean!”
My mana dropped, then dropped faster as I poured more and more into the attempt to cleanse the monster. A patch formed around my hand, slowly growing and spreading across its body. First a few centimeters, then a few more in an expanding circle.
My mana hit zero.
The world shifted, the corners of my vision going blurry as I stumbled back and fell onto my bum.
The wraith was twisting and screeching, its one remaining clawed arm trying to push back all of its dusty stuff into the massive tear in its chest. It gave up after a moment and started to move towards the hole. Slower now, much slower than its earlier charge.
This was my chance, my opportunity to run back and regroup, to figure out a new strategy and maybe let my mana return to full.
I stumbled to my feet and ran after the wraith, for a certain definition of ‘ran.’ My stumbling gait didn’t stop me from spinning my flail again, and when the ghostly monster started to suck at the evil mana it left itself wide open.
The flail rammed into and through its body, cutting off its lower half to let it float down and turn to so much dust.
It spun around, the back of its claws raking across my face and chest and sending me flying a few feet. “Ouch,” I said as I landed on my back. I wanted to stay there for a moment, but huge claws spearing down at me were enough encouragement that I rolled to the side. Just in time, too, as the talons dug into the ground where I had been.
Another smack of the flail, weaker this time and from an awkward angle, was enough to push its hands away. My mana was back to one. One mana.
I slapped my hand on its screeching face and fired off my cleaning spell. It was little more than a short lived burst, but that was enough to make it race backwards and give me some room. I scrambled back, then got to my feet.
“You are a big, fat meaniehead!” I taunted the monster.
It kind of just stared at me angrily. I was going to need to learn the taunt skill one of these days, if that was even a thing.
Another spin of my flail ended with the shower head smacking the now weakened wraith again, and again, and again.
The fight didn’t end in a glorious moment of triumph, but in a constant beatdown, where I delivered blow after blow to an enemy that was less and less capable of fighting back until, finally...
Ding! Congratulations, you have laid ‘The Wraith of Threewells by Darkwood’ Level 2! To rest! Bonus Exp was granted for savaging a monster above your level!