Juan stumbled upon the flameforged in the Codex - Archive section, where the information was displayed in his Codex. However, he also observed a shift in the Soul 15/50.
Flameforged
Type: Active | Rarity: Rare
> By igniting the blood within, the user generates searing heat that enhances attack speed and power by 30%. This process also fortifies the user’s body, increasing fire and heat resistance. However, the volatile nature of the ability rapidly drains Blood energy, leaving the user defenseless and increasingly vulnerable to other types of attacks.
His gaze darted to the Flameforged skill. Though he wasn't sure what it entailed, the promise of increased attack speed and power was tempting. But the drained blood energy and vulnerability made him hesitate.
But not only flameforged was in the Archive page, he also saw another one:
Cinderfoot
Type: Active | Rarity: Uncommon
> The user’s steps leave a trail of smoldering embers, scorching the ground and igniting enemies caught in their wake. While active, the user’s movement speed increases by 20%, and fire damage resistance improves, allowing them to traverse flames unharmed. Each step consumes a small amount of stamina and blood, and prolonged use risks overheating the body, temporarily reducing stamina regeneration.
When he tried to choose any, it requires him to consume 50 fire essence.
"Fifty fire essence..." Juan thought. He couldn't afford to make a mistake, not with the wolves circling below. Juan made a split-second decision. "I need every advantage I can get." With resolve, he selected the Flameforged skill.
Immediately, he attempted to cry out "Flameforged," and swiftly felt a rush of heat flowing through his veins. The change was immediate. Juan's form appeared to be seething with a red hue, accompanied by wisps of smoke.
"ffuck..." Juan breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. As the heat intensified, Juan could feel the blood energy draining from his body. His defense weakened, and he knew he had to be extra cautious. But the promise of increased attack power and speed was too tempting to ignore.
He waited, attempting to determine how to turn off the skill. However, nothing seemed to work. After roughly a minute, the heat started to diminish, and the active skill eventually stop. He also observed the changes in his blood energy, which were barely noticeable.
Gazing down at the Grimhowls. This is trouble; their numbers were edging close to twenty, and they began to scale the trees, probing any path they can take.
Juan gathered his scattered belongings. As he tightened the straps and adjusted his glasses, a sense of danger coursed through him. The weight of his memories accompanied him, a reminder of both his past and the perilous journey ahead.
With a burst of speed, Juan leaped from the tree, his body moving with a newfound agility. He landed gracefully on the soggy ground, the Grimhowls immediately lunging toward him. Juan swung the axe with precision, the blade slicing through fur and flesh with ease. The wolves' howls of pain echoed through the swamp.
Retreat…
Juan's lungs burned as he sprinted through the dense undergrowth, the Grimhowls in hot pursuit. The pounding of their paws against the ground sent chills down his spine. He couldn't afford to slow down; the wolves were relentless.
Juan weaved between the twisted roots and tangled vines. As he rounded a corner, Juan spotted a fallen tree trunk ahead. Without hesitation, he leaped onto the rotting wood, using it as a makeshift bridge to cross the murky waters. Some Grimhowls hesitated at the edge.
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Seizing the opportunity, Juan swung the axe, the blade connecting with the nearest pursuing wolf's shoulder.
Finally... the edge of the swamp. The muck clinging to my boots, the stench of decay—it's all behind me now. Just one more step, and I'm free of this place!
Waving his ever-burning torch, Juan kept the attacking wolves at bay. "Come on, you mangy beasts!" he shouted, his voice laced with a desperate edge. Some wolves, undeterred by the flames, began to circle him.
"Flameforged!" Juan shouted, his voice barely audible over the wolves' snarls. Immediately, a surge of heat coursed through his veins, his skin flushing with a red glow.
The wolves hesitated, their hackles raised as they sensed the change in their prey. Juan didn't waste a moment, he withdrew from the swamp and moved toward the thick forest.
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Nathan stood on the riverbank, his gaze fixed on the man wading in the murky waters, spear in hand. The rhythmic sound of the gentle current lapping against the stones provided a soothing backdrop as a man searched for his next catch.
"Any luck today, June?" Nathan called out, his voice carrying a hint of fear.
June turned, his weathered face cracking into a grin. "Ah, Nathan. Can't complain. The fish are biting, as usual." He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Though I can't help but wonder what's on your mind. You seem a bit...on edge."
Nathan shifted his weight, the damp earth beneath his boots squelching. "Well, you know, it's just—" He hesitated, unsure of how to broach the subject.
June's expression hardened as he waded closer, the water lapping at his knees. "Is this about the rumors of another faction?" He planted the spear into the riverbed, leaning on it casually. "The ones that have you and the others all in a tizzy?"
Nathan nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line. "We've been spotting scouts, June." He paused, his gaze darting around the riverbank, as if expecting an ambush at any moment.
June let out a hearty laugh, the sound echoing across the water. "An attack, you say?" He shook his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. "And tell me, Nathan, is this the same Settlement that's been threatening us for weeks?" He chuckled, turning his attention back to the river. "I think we will be just fine right here, fishing in peace."
Nathan's brow furrowed, his uncertainty evident. "But June, what if—"
"What if nothing, Nathan." June's tone grew firm, brooking no argument. "I'm not going to waste my time worrying about some phantom threat when I've got a river full of fish to catch." He flashed Nathan a grin. "Now, if you don't mind, I've got a meal to prepare."
Nathan watched as June waded back to the riverbank, his weathered hands gripping the spear tightly. The older man's nonchalant demeanor was both reassuring and unsettling to Nathan, who couldn't help but feel a growing sense of unease.
"So, Nathan," June said, his voice betraying a hint of amusement, "I take it you've got more to share." He propped the spear against a nearby rock and began to untie his boots.
Nathan hesitated, his gaze shifting uncomfortably. "Well, it's... it's about Derek, actually." He paused, unsure of how to proceed.
June's eyebrows rose, his expression shifting to one of mild curiosity. "Derek, you say?" He chuckled, shaking his head. "What's that hot-headed fool gone and done now?"
Nathan took a deep breath, steeling himself for June's reaction. "He's... he's dead, June. Killed by one of the baiters, from the looks of it."
June's movements stilled, and for a moment, the only sound was the gentle lapping of the river. Then, to Nathan's surprise, the older man let out a hearty laugh, his shoulders shaking with mirth.
"Dead?" June grinned, his eyes sparkling with a hint of dark amusement. "Well, I can't say I'm all that surprised. That boy always did have a knack for sticking his nose where it didn't belong." He paused, his expression turning contemplative. "Though I must admit, I'm a bit disappointed I didn't get to see it happen myself."
Nathan stared at June. "but aren't you concerned? Derek was one of us"
June shrugged, his attention returning to untying his boots. "Concerned? Hardly." He chuckled, his voice low and gruff. "You know as well as I do that Derek was more trouble than he was worth. Hotheaded, reckless, and far too eager to pick a fight." He shook his head, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Honestly, I'm surprised he lasted this long."
Nathan opened his mouth to protest, but June raised a hand, silencing him.
"Listen, Nathan," the older man said, his tone suddenly serious. "In this world, the strong survive, and the weak perish. It's the way of things, whether we like it or not." He paused, his gaze fixed on the swirling current of the river. "You can't protect everyone, no matter how hard you try. Sometimes, the best thing to do is to let nature take its course."
Nathan felt a chill run down his spine at June's words. He knew the older man had a point, but the callousness of his attitude still unsettled him.
"But what about the Baiter?" Nathan asked, his voice tinged with concern. "What if they come after us next?"
June let out a dismissive snort. "Baiter, eh?" He chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, then, I suppose they'll just have to learn the hard way that this is our territory." He bent down, retrieving his boots and slipping them back on. "The fish and the fisherman, Nathan. The fish and the fisherman."
With those puzzling words, June turned and made his way back to the riverbank, leaving Nathan to ponder the meaning behind his proverb.
As he watched June walk deeper into the forest, Nathan couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease. The rumors of an impending attack weighed heavily on his mind, and he couldn't shake the nagging sense that something was amiss. Particularly the most recent clash, when a baiter confronted both Derek and him.