Vice-Master Blumhard paced furiously around the small, dimly lit room.
“That stupid woman!” he spat, pausing to look over at his revered chief. Master Engerhard shook his head, letting out a sigh.
“Don't underestimate her—she's not stupid,” he replied.
Blumhard’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. “Not stupid? Sounds almost like admiration, Master Engerhard! You mean to say she didn’t waste all that money on rescuing those miners out of some foolish sympathy? She just got lucky, that’s all. If those damn orcs hadn’t helped, she never would have pulled it off!”
Master Engerhard let out a huff, then sighed again. “She’s no bleeding heart, that one. Do you really think she’d spend that gold out of care for those stinking plebs? She did it to protect her interests—the mine. Now she’ll be able to reopen it sooner and might even avoid taking on a loan.”
"Just watch how quickly they'll press the miners back to work! Under the guise of 'searching for stragglers,' they'll reopen every gallery. Forget the three days of mourning required across the domain—it’s all work, work, work now to support the miners. Appealing to solidarity, ha! She’s outmaneuvered us."
Apprentice Ellehard always listened with admiration to the high-level discussions between the two masters. She’d come to see their ruthless, fearless quirkiness as something to aspire to. How cleverly they managed even the orcs! They had always been the true power in the domain—masters of the Xsoha, who held their grip regardless of who ruled on the surface. One day, she hoped to rise to such a level herself, a reputable Xsoha master.
Sensing an opportunity for her one per day allotted question, she raised her eyes tentatively. “Master Engerhard, forgive me, but I don’t understand. Why does it matter to us if she avoids taking the loan?”
“Don’t strain that little pea brain of yours, dear,” Engerhard replied dismissively, waving her off. “Is the slave prepared?”
Though disappointed at his response, Ellehard nodded. She understood her master was testing her; the answer was something she’d need to uncover herself. Master Engerhard’s face brightened at her response.
"Ah. Finally, some good news! Let’s savor this moment.”
*
When I learned that Mike had nearly died because of me, it felt like a hammer blow. And hearing that a woman from the prince's entourage had lost her life—a second hit. Luck in misfortune was all that saved us this time; the woman’s fall had been witnessed, and an alarm raised in time for Ju to attempt something extraordinary: resurrection. She’d brought the woman back, but that didn’t change the fact that she’d died. Now, under the paladins’ care, the woman lay bedridden and weak, while Ju, after the huge effort of resurrection and then expending every last bit of her mana to heal Mike as well, was sick herself, fighting to recover.
No one blamed me openly, and no one spoke to the prince about the curse—but I didn’t need them to. I knew I was responsible, and that knowledge was punishment enough.
How did it come to this? How could I have let it happen?
I drifted to my room as if in a trance, buried my face in a pillow, and let the tears come, thanking Ju for what she’d done. When Tom and Hew came in and tried to talk to me, I shifted into a shadow and slipped away, running until I found a quiet spot between the castle wall and the river. The twin suns shone brightly, their light dancing across the water, offering a small, flickering comfort against the heaviness inside me.
Sitting down, I closed my eyes, trying to make sense of my situation.
The truth was glaring and painful: I was a catastrophe. A walking disaster, harming everyone close to me. And who was close? My friends. Wouldn’t it be better if I disappeared? If I just went back to hell? No—I stay here and create my own hell instead. But why did I have to drag everyone else into it?
As I sat there, head in my hands, tangled in dark thoughts, I heard footsteps on the path between the wall and the water. I looked up to see Sid approaching. I shrugged inwardly—of course he’d find me with his telepathy, and I hadn’t even tried to block him out.
“Mom, don’t run from me, please,” he said softly, meeting my gaze.
That one sentence struck me silent; I had no response. I couldn’t bring myself to do anything that might hurt him, so I just stood still. He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around me. It was a bit awkward, but his hug was warm, grounding, and gradually, I felt my heart begin to settle, finding a flicker of peace.
After a while, Lynx appeared along the path, followed closely by the others. They all gathered around me on the narrow strip of land between the wall and the river.
“You’re not guilty,” Mike said as he sat down beside me on my left. “Stop dwelling on it.”
I wiped my nose, feeling as though I’d cry again. “I can’t, Mike! It is my fault! How could I possibly stop thinking about it?”
“No, it’s not your fault. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me,” he insisted. “I shouldn’t have gone out on the balcony. I got too used to the curse and took it lightly. And I should’ve muted that damn device. But most of all, I shouldn’t have talked to Sandra about you! I’ve got plenty of reasons to feel responsible here—not you.”
I looked over at Alice, feeling desperate. “This curse has to end. I’ve tried everything, and nothing worked. But there’s one thing we haven’t tried. Alice, please—just shoot me. It’ll end the curse, that’s the answer.”
Alice shook her head slowly. “You’re talking nonsense, Lores. I’m not doing that.”
Sid’s face went pale, his expression scared, and I felt like I’d swallowed a stone. I’d just told him I wouldn’t hurt him, and here I was, causing him pain again.
“I’d respawn anyway, don’t worry,” I added, trying to reassure him.
“Probably,” Lynx muttered, managing to make things worse.
“There must be another way!” Tom protested. He sighed. “The fact is, he only talked to his sister. Was that really a betrayal?”
“Technically, yes,” Hew replied. “Even if we don’t see it as one, the curse does.”
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
Tom gave a frustrated shrug. “How does the curse even decide what’s betrayal? Lores, do you think it was one?”
“Why ask me?” I replied, though they all knew my answer. “You know I don’t think it was a betrayal. Not really.”
I paused, searching myself. Was I entirely sure? I took a deep breath. Mike telling Sandra I was a witch, after everything she’d seen—that didn’t change anything. It wasn’t a betrayal.
And in that moment, I felt a shift, a spark. I turned to him, stunned.
“Oh. My. Fucking. God,” I gasped.
“Umm,” Lynx said, giving me a sidelong look, “any chance you could express that in sentences for mere mortals not fluent in these sorts of metaphors?”
I snorted, throwing Lynx an evil-eye glance, and took a deep breath.
“The curse is gone,” I said slowly, then repeated it louder, again and again. “The damn curse is gone! That damn curse is GONE!”
“You sound almost...angry?” Tom ventured.
I sighed, feeling the frustration rise. “I’m angry at myself. Was it really that simple? Was that all I had to do?” I hung my head and knocked it with my fists. “Why didn’t I realize it sooner? Why? Why? Why did that poor woman have to die because of me?”
Mike shook his head. “I don’t think the curse made her fall. It never affected anyone but me—or things directly connected to me. We know she heard my gadget making noise and got curious about what kind of ‘spells’ I was casting. Sometimes…shit just happens. Thank heavens Ju was there in time to set things right. We really owe those maids who called her.”
I sighed, looking at him closely. “Do you really think so?”
“Definitely!” he replied, pulling me into a hug.
I held him tightly. “I’m so glad you’re okay, and I’m so sorry all these things happened to you because of me.”
He shrugged, grinning. “Hey, it kept life interesting. Would you ever have gone off alone with me into the wild otherwise? Just the two of us? With so much else going on out here?” he joked, making me laugh as I wiped away my tears.
I wanted to believe him—but was it really that simple? Would I ever truly know?
I stood, and we began walking back toward the gate.
*
Drackar surveyed the group gathered near the orcs’ training field, their faces a mix of curiosity and nerves as they sat on the logs before him.
“I did promise Lady Lores that I’d train you as we do our own children,” he began. “You won’t get the full regimen since you’ve got other duties, but for the hours you spend with the trainers, I expect you to give your best.” His gaze swept over them. “Before I assign trainers, any questions?”
Tina raised her hand tentatively. Though Drackar hadn’t specified they should, she felt too intimidated by the towering orc to speak freely. Noticing her, he nodded.
“Why do we casters need to go through this physical training?” she asked. “Shouldn’t I focus on magic training? If magic’s going to improve our strength and reflexes anyway, why add extra physical exercises?”
Drackar chuckled, a rumbling sound that made Tina sit up a bit straighter.
“Trained muscles do increase power, much like magic does, but with a physical edge. Magic theory claims it integrates into your tissues, yes, but the stronger the muscles to start with, the further it takes you,” he explained. “A well-trained person can go toe-to-toe with an opponent one, two, or even three levels above them. A warrior in peak condition might hold their own against foes as much as five levels higher. Now, remember that not everyone hits the average—some fall below. So in combat, there’s a range of nearly eight to ten levels that can be bridged just with training. Do you really want to sit at the bottom of that scale?” He gave Tina a pointed look, letting the question settle before continuing.
“Now, for casters, it’s a bit different,” Drackar went on, “but physical fitness is still key—not for strength, but for speed, agility, and balance. I’ve seen plenty of powerful casters taken down by rogues well below their level simply because they lacked the reflexes. Many mages take a fixed position to cast, and that’s a tactic that, more often than not, gets them eliminated. Moving, reacting quickly—that’s what keeps you in the fight.”
“How do levels perform against each other?” Michael asked
“I’ll speak primarily for close-combat fighters," Drackar answered with a nod, "though the principles do extend to other classes, even if more factors come into play for them. Take a level-eight fighter: he should beat a level-seven opponent most of the time. Against two level-sevens, though, he’d probably lose. However, facing two opponents at levels five or six? He’d have roughly a fifty percent chance of winning. This scaling pattern continues right up the ranks— but with an lightly increased difference. A level ninety, for instance, could potentially handle two level-eighty. He may have problems with two above level eighty-five. It’s what we call the ‘doubling axiom.’”
Tom’s eyes widened. “Does this mean doubling power?”
Drackar shook his head. “It’s not quite as literal as that. Being able to take on two opponents doesn’t mean doubling physical power. Physical power might double only after about nine levels, with speed increasing by about fifty percent within that range. But it doesn’t double every nine levels. Think of it this way: if you can lift a single sack of grain at level one, by level fifty, you’d be lifting fifteen or more. That’s roughly the trajectory physical power takes.”
Tina’s eyes widened. “So, at level fifty, I should be able to lift a horse?”
Drackar gave her an approving nod. “Certainly, lady, but that’s a modest goal. By level eighty, you’d want an elephant to give you a proper challenge. That said, your starting point—your natural strength—plays a big role.”
Hew nodded thoughtfully. “So… constitution really matters, then?”
Drackar’s expression softened in satisfaction. “Precisely. Constitution is essential, but it’s only one part of the equation. Skills and levels are just as crucial, if not more so, but here’s the catch: knowing how to use those skills matters even more. You could have all the spells and counter-spells you like, but without the insight to use them at the right moment, they’re just wasted energy. Training is important, yes, but so is honing those skills in real combat.”
“Real fights?” Tina asked, her eyes round with surprise.
“Exactly,” Drackar replied, “Dungeon delving is one of the best ways to truly test your skills and limits. There, you’ll know what you’re made of.”
Michael tilted his head, still intrigued. “So, based on what you’re saying, two level ninety-fives could take on a level one hundred?”
Drackar shook his head firmly. “No. Reaching level one hundred comes with a massive power boost, a transformation, really. But it’s not just that—the path through levels ninety-eight and ninety-nine is a bottleneck. Passing those levels is more than leveling up; it’s a true evolution. Only a rare few ever make it that far, and they’re in a class of their own. There’s not much more I can tell you, but there are books in the library that might shed light on it.”
“Yeah, if Aunt Ju ever lets us near them,” Tina muttered.
Drackar looked at them, eyebrows raised. “She doesn’t?”
“Only after they’ve been rejuvenated by a specialist,” Michael clarified.
Drackar gave a nod of understanding. “Ah, that makes sense—some of those books are very fragile. Alright, enough talking. Ready for some exercises?”