The charging ant met a barrage of sword strikes. The first was a downward blow that pummeled its head into the ground. A horizontal strike followed, sending the ant reeling to the side as it rose up. The third blow summoned flames – a rising diagonal attack that incorporated a jumping spin.
The giant ant teetered and fell down lifeless, its head ripped away from its body by the makeshift wooden sword of its attacker.
Crash, sever, and rise – the basic configuration.
The trail of fire died as Warwick completed his spin. The chain of attack was less effective with the spin, but the flames would not appear otherwise. The young adventurer was quite fond of the flames even if they were purely aesthetic. They did not add to his attack’s damage nor did they give off any kind of heat.
“That’s twenty, yes?” Eda asked, her hand poised to write on a small notebook. Unlike her friend, who wore leather armor over his clothing, she wore the robes of a spellcaster
“Yup, twenty,” Warwick confirmed. “Hit points still at 30, elite soldiers at 50.”
He put away his makeshift wooden sword as he watched Eda jot down notes. There were no colored bars in this world. One had to to perform a bit of research to figure out an opponent’s stats.
The girl was Warwick’s only companion. She belonged to a family of mages. Warwick approached her to learn the ways of magic four years ago, and the two became quite good friends.
Eda was quite taken of how Warwick put numbers to everything. He broke down monsters into numbers and what he called stats – making them seem less mysterious and scary. She believed he would have made a great mage, if only his affinities were not air and water.
She put away her note book and approached Warwick and the dead ant. “I still don’t understand those flames,”she laughed. “There has to be some kind of magic involved, but I didn’t feel any kind of fluctuation.”
“It’s not magic,” Warwick explained, “just something warriors do.”
“I’ve seen a lot of warriors. None of them could summon flames without chanting a spell.”
Warwick shrugged. The flames were something he took for granted. They were a vestige from a distant world – one that made more sense.
Eda sighed, but a glimmer of curiosity sparked in her eyes. “What about me? How much hit points do I have?”
“You? Maybe around 20? We haven’t tested you,”
Eda clenched her fists and frowned. She recalled how they went through “testing” Warwick. First, they had to gauge her spells on a few rodents to figure out their damage. Then, Warwick had her cast those same spells on him.
It was an ordeal for her. It should have been the same for Warwick – but he took it as necessary research. It took him a week to heal from his injuries, even as Eda limited herself to earth spells to avoid causing scarring and permanent damage.
She fumed when Warwick assured her it would only take a single night of rest to heal his injuries. His body was torn to shreds by her earth lances, almost bringing him to the brink of death.
“No testing for me,” she smiled awkwardly.
“Suit yourself,” Warwick glanced at her as he began to inspect the ant carcass.
He ran his hand over its shell, knocking in certain areas to check for hardness and density. The two of them used to bring the shells to town to sell for a few pieces of silver, but the novelty had died down. Now, few armorers would give a decent price for the ant shells.
There were no such problems in Warwick's previous world. Shops had an almost endless supply of money and they would buy items for the same price no matter how many you bring in.
The faint sound of rustling made Warwick pause. He tilted his head to one side and focused on the sound. He took note of the lightness of the steps, their rhythm, and the pauses between movements – it was another ant.
“There should be another one in that direction,” he motioned to Eda, pointing to their left. “We’ll use your spells this time.”
Eda nodded. She pressed her left hand to a bracelet on her right wrist, activating magic that caused it to emit a dull red aura. The bracelet was a gift from her father. Once activated, it would line her body with protective magic.
They waited for the ant to come over. Giant ants relied more on scent than vision, and the scent of its dead kin would undoubtedly draw its attention.
In just a few heartbeats, the giant ant appeared from behind the trees, scuttling its way towards the fallen ant. Eda drew in mana and chanted the words of her spell. “Vehara graffis malisiv!”
In a blink of an eye, mana swirled and coalesced in front of Eda’s hand, transforming into a ball of flame that flared like a blowtorch towards the giant ant.
“Crimson lance, 8 fire damage. Vision loss negated, pain debilitation negated.”
“Shut it, Warwick!”
The ant momentarily flinched from the damage before continuing to scuttle towards the source of its pain. Fear was alien to the ant. It only knew to protect its hive and obey the will of its queen.
“Druxit grafive Malizé!”
Eda lowered her hand, aiming for the area in front of the ant. The ground erupted as a jagged spike of earth and rock burst from below and struck the ant.
The force of the blow pierced the ant's shell and sent the creature flying. It fell on its side, injured but not dead.
“Earth lance, critical hit, 17 damage, target stunned and unsteady.”
A critical hit? Eda wondered. She was quite familiar with Warwick’s words, so she knew what a critical hit meant. This was just the first time she managed to deal one with her spells. Looking at the state of the ant, it was highly likely her spell dealt more damage than normal.
“It’s barely alive,” Warwick noted. “5 damage should finish it off.”
Eda rolled her eyes at her friend’s words. She repeated the chant for fire lance and finished off the ant.
It was the first time she brought down an ant with three instead of four spells. She wondered if it was what Warwick called a level-up.
“Lucky hit,” Warwick noted as he inspected the damage to the deer-sized ant. He was prepared to charge in if Eda’s life was ever in danger – he was the tank after all. Fortunately, she had grown in power almost as fast as he did. There was no need to worry about her when it came to mere ants.
“I thought I lev– ”
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Warwick shook his head. There was no such thing as a real level-up in this world, though spells and battle skills could increase in rank. There were no sharp increases in toughness and survivability as one progressed - one could only rely on one’s stats, skills, and equipment.
“So I’m still a level 7 mage?” she took her notebook from her pack and turned to the page detailing her status.
Eda Luminar
Sorcerer 7
Strength
12
Damage
+0
Agility
15
Accuracy
+8 percent
Vitality
15
Health
15?, regen 1-2 per day
Intellect
60
Mana
120, regen10 per hour
Combat Skills
Physical
Magic
Sword Use
2 (proficient)
Fire Magic 7
7
Crossbow Use
3 (proficient)
Earth Magic 7
7
Dodge
6 (trained)
Fire-Earth Magic
locked
Spells
Fire Lance. Range 30. 2-12 Fire (7)
Mana Cost 10-15 (13)
Earth Lance Range 20. 1-10 Piercing (6)
Mana Cost 10-20 (16)
Burning Blood. Range 1. 2-20 Fire
Mana Cost 10-15 (13)
Stone Bulwark. Range 5. Blocks 20 damage. Mana Cost 10
“If people see those notes, you’d be in big trouble,” Warwick warned, gesturing at her notebook.
“These?” Eda turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “It doesn’t have anything that people don’t already know aside from the range and damage of my spells. Sometimes, I think that all those numbers are made up anyway,” she lied. Warwick’s numbers had proven true with the ants and with her spells’ consumption, as well as her own mana capacity.
“Wait…” she flipped the pages of her small book, stopping when she found the entry for the giant ants.
GIANT ANT
THREAT LEVEL 7
HP: 30
MP: NA
Def: Armor (1-4)
SLAM * 2-6 DMG
BITE * 3-18 DMG
ACID SPRAY * 1-7 DMG every 2 secs [lasts 4 secs]
Weakness: Impaired Vision
“If I’m the same level as the ant, then why am I killing them so easily?”
“Practice,” Warwick replied. “We’ve been killing them for three years now – they’re barely a threat. Remember our first year? We had to work together to bring down one of them – and it took ages compared to how fast we deal with them now.”
“But the level…”
Warwick sighed. “Ants don’t threaten you because you know them so well. You know how fast they are, their blindspots, their vulnerabilities. Think of it as getting a medal or title like Antbane. It gives you some kind of enhancement when facing ants you’ve encountered before – or drops their threat level down by 3-5. It’s most probably the latter.”
“Antbane?” Eda wasn’t so sure she could be proud of such a title though she certainly earned it. Over the past couple of years, the two of them had rid the forest of at least a hundred of the creatures – including a couple of hives.
“One of these ants could take down a wolf,” Warwick continued. “Do you think you can easily handle a wolf?”
“That’s not the same…” Eda complained before understanding Warwick’s reasoning. They rated wolves at threat level 4, meaning it would take four normal villagers to kill one of them. She was sure she could kill one but she was not as confident as she was with the ants.
“That should be it for today,” Warwick smiled as he slung the large pack of chitin behind him. It contained two intact shells from the twenty – now twenty-one – ants they had defeated. “Do you want one of the shells?”
“Not really,” Eda answered. In the past, bringing back an intact ant shell would shock her family. Now, they probably assumed she was just picking them up in the forest. She heard some of them using the word “molting” when alluding to the shells when they thought she couldn’t hear them.
The two of them walked out of the forest without incident. The creatures that called it home knew enough to stay away from the two. The more dangerous creatures had been hunted to the verge of extinction and the more docile creatures knew to avoid the presence of predators.
They parted ways on the forest edge. Eda waved as she turned towards the direction of her manor. Warwick waved back and went back inside the forest. He walked towards a small hut that he shared with his uncle Dorn.
There was smoke coming out of the small house’s chimney. Warwick could smell the scent of cooked venison as he neared his home. The cityfolk might consider them poor, but they never lacked for food. Such was the benefit of having a forester in the household.
His uncle was tasked with protecting the city from threats within the forest. He was a scout and his abilities allowed him to sense danger farther than usual. He would send in reports when he noted potential threats and the Guild would send adventurers to deal with them. In return, he was allowed to hunt every now and then.
Warwick entered the house. He unslung his bag of ant shells placing the shells on top of pile of similar ones on the corner of the house.
“How many?” Dorn asked.
“Twenty,” Warwick replied. He pulled out a wrapped chunk of ant meat from his pack and paused. “I guess this is for Gray, seeing as there’s food.”
“Hmh,” Dorn grunted.
Warwick left the house to feed the horse. Upon his return, a plate of roasted venison and vegetables was on the table waiting for him.
“Eat,” Dorn nodded to him. “I’ll be away for a couple of weeks. I trust you’ll be fine on your own.”
“Yes, uncle,” Warwick answered as he sliced a piece of meat and put it in his mouth.
He could never get over how tedious it was to eat. He never remembered eating in his other world – at least not to the same extent he did over the past six years. He never experienced hunger or thirst there. Food was available – but they were poor substitutes to the red potions that restored health, the blue potions that restored mana, and the amber potions that restored stamina.
He looked forward to the end of the tutorial. It ended once a person reached fifteen summers – a few more months to go.
It spanned almost a decade. Warwick had pieced together the memories of another life – or several of them – when he turned six. He lived all his previous lives in the same world. He was a warrior, a mage, and an assassin among many other professions. Even his race changed with every incarnation. There were even a few times he had the body of a woman!
That world was a place of constant battle. Monsters roamed the lands and dungeons were open for the brave. Warwick remembered waking in different places – either because of his race or profession – but always in the body of an adult.
He would fight in an endless struggle to grow stronger, facing the same enemies who spewed the same exact lines!
There were no such beings in these world – or at least, not at the moment. He had heard inklings of a coming storm – of gates that opened and the monsters that they brought.
Warwick smiled. He was quite familiar with the scenario – the Nix or some other force would be invading the world.