Under the deepening twilight, the forest sky transformed into a canvas of purples and pinks.
A fire crackled warmly at the center of the clearing, casting flickering shadows that danced among the trees.
I sat nearby, tending to the spit where the Ivy deer now roasted.
The fragrant aroma of the cooking meat mingled with the earthy scents of the forest, creating an intoxicating blend that filled the air.
The deer's once vibrant green coat had been respectfully set aside, and its meat, now browning over the flames, exuded a tantalizing scent that spoke of a meal hard-earned.
My gaze occasionally drifted upward, where the first stars began to pierce the twilight, adding their distant light to the serene scene.
The crackling of the fire was a comforting sound, its warmth a welcome reprieve from the chill that crept in with the descending night.
With the meat nearly ready, I prepared to savor the fruits of my labor under the vast, star-strewn sky, surrounded by the whispering trees and the fading colors of dusk.
Of course, my real motive was the skill I would receive after consuming more than 10% of the deer's body mass, but the sumptuous looking meal was a well-deserved bonus.
I gently carved a generous slice of the roasted Ivy deer, the meat tender and succulent from the slow roasting over the fire.
Then I proceeded to sprinkle a pinch of salt over the slice, enhancing the flavors already present.
As I took his first bite, I was immediately struck by the rich, savory taste.
The meat had a deep, earthy flavor, with hints of the herbs and foliage that had been its diet.
The salt accentuated the natural juices, bringing out a satisfying depth of flavor.
"Ah fuck! This is the life." I proclaimed in euphoria.
Each chew was a delight, the tenderness of the meat melting in my mouth, leaving a lingering taste that made me crave more.
Indulging in my reverie, I kept feasting on the savory cervine goodness until I finally felt a sudden surge of power in my core.
Putting the meat aside, I closed my eyes and summoned my runes.
[Omni-Gene is in effect]
[Basic Beasts] : 1/7
1- Ivy Deer
[The inheritor has received a +3 boost to agility]
[The inheritor has received the skill : [Minor Poison Resistance] ]
[Name: Rybane Arkwright]
[Titles: [Dragon's Consort] ]
[Blessings: -- ]
[Legacy: -- ]
[Traits: [Universal Progenitor], [Jinxed], [World walker], [Resilient] ]
[Bloodline: ???]
[Bloodline characteristics: [Omni-Gene] ]
[Skills: [Thunderblade Arts], [Minor Poison Resistance] ]
[Mana: 30/30]
[Stats]
Strength : 18
Agility : 21 --> 24
Dexterity : 14
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Intelligence : 15
Wisdom : 6
Luck: 4
'Minor Poison Resistance? Really? Of all the cool skills I could have gotten off of that.'
Still, I proceeded to focus on the skill, summoning its runes.
[Skill Name] : Minor Poison Resistance
[Skill Type] : Body Enhancement
[Skill Rank] : Basic
Minor resistance to most basic and intermediate poisons, weakening their effects upon the user. 𝗗𝗼𝗲𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗮𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝗽𝗼𝗶𝘀𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝗱𝘃𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗶𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘃𝗲.
𝗥𝗲𝘀𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗯𝗲 𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘂𝘀𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗸𝗶𝗹𝗹.
"Alright, Alright, this ain't all that bad." I muttered to myself.
I can probably strengthen my resistance as it seems like a growth type skill.
Plus, the stat boost to agility was a sweet bonus as a few sword swings confirmed that my movements were faster than before.
Still, the fact that I had received a stat boost meant that if I had gone for a stronger beast, I might have received a bigger stat boost, not to mention the chance of receiving a higher ranked skill.
No point crying over spilt milk. I already received a good enough boon as it is.
After meticulously salvaging the useful parts from the deer and portioning out the remaining meat, I doused the fire and sought refuge in a nearby tree for the night.
Nestling myself onto a sturdy branch, I positioned my back comfortably against the trunk, ensuring a secure and elevated position to sleep.
The night passed without incident, cradled by the tree's reassuring embrace, shielded from the ground and any nocturnal predators that may have roamed below.
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Finally reaching Basil after a long and arduous journey, I was taken aback by the heavy sense of unease that permeated the streets.
The streets, usually alive with the hustle and bustle of daily life, were eerily quiet.
Doors and windows of the quaint houses were tightly shut, as if the entire populace had withdrawn into their homes, seeking refuge from some unseen threat.
Approaching the guild, my heart sank further as I noticed the absence of guards at the gate.
The entrance, normally guarded day and night, stood ominously open, swinging gently in the chilly breeze.
From within the guild's stone walls, I could hear faint echoes of raised voices and the occasional clatter of objects being moved.
With a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, I stepped through the open gate and into the dimly lit guild hall.
The air inside was thick with the scent of old wood and the faint flicker of candlelight cast long shadows across the familiar surroundings.
Every corner seemed to hold a whisper of movement or a trace of recent activity, yet the usual camaraderie and warmth that filled these halls were conspicuously absent.
There were no quests on the board, the bar was empty. The tables were devoid of people as well, prompting an eerie atmosphere uncharacteristic of the guild.
As I ventured deeper into the guild, the echoes of distant voices grew clearer.
The once-familiar spaces now felt unfamiliar and foreboding, each step echoing loudly in the silence that enveloped me.
I couldn't shake the feeling that something significant had transpired during my absence, and that the answers to my questions lay somewhere within these shadowed corridors.
With a deep breath to steady my nerves, I pressed on, determined to uncover the truth behind the unsettling stillness that had gripped the quaint town of Basil.
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"You HAVE to send a FUCKING SEARCH PARTY ATLEAST!" screamed Hestia, throwing a vase at the guild master.
Calmly catching the vase in his hand, the man clad in white replied
"I'm afraid that's not an option anymore. We barely have enough men to man the walls."
"So you're okay with this? Huddled inside the walls, waiting for our deaths?"
"We have no choice, and you kn-", the guild master was interrupted in the middle of his sentence by the creaking of the wooden door.
As the door opened wide, a man came into view.
Dressed in elven robes sheared at the knees for ease of movement, the man donned a rugged steel blade at his side.
Standing at a height of 5'9, he sported messy brown hair atop brown eyes, his angular face sharpened by years of training.
His face would have been unrecognizable to some but Hestia was his own teammate, and the guild master was a peculiar man who never forgot faces, much less faces as popular as his.
'Alright, enough with the self glazing.'
I looked around the room, observing the drastic changes it had gone through since I saw it last.
The walls, once adorned with maps and accolades, now displayed hastily drawn diagrams and battle plans detailing the movements and vulnerabilities of monstrous adversaries.
At the heart of the room, a large oaken table dominated the space, surrounded by mismatched chairs and benches hastily arranged for strategists and leaders engaged in heated debate.
Parchments and scrolls littered the tabletop, each bearing the scrawled notes and sketches of tactical insights gleaned from encounters with creatures that threatened the city's safety.
"What happened here?" I asked, dumbfounded by the severity of the situation.
''Ryne, they took them. Those monsters took them away!" wailed Hestia, breaking down into tears.
"Long story." The guild master replied.
"What's important is that now that you and Miss Viola are here, dealing with this threat isn't impossible atleast."
he continued, his face regaining some color.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you but Farya isn't here."
I replied, my voice in monotone.
"What do you mean? Where is she?", asked the guild master, clearly taken aback.
"She's not of this world anymore."
With those words, hope turned to despair.
And that is how the quaint town of Basil, reminiscent of laughing children and valiant adventurers,
was doomed.