Weylan's head was thrown to the side when the sword pommel hit him on the skull. But he did not let it shake him off. He embraced the elf. He could no longer lunge, but still. His skull rang, but he continued to hold on. He used his own ability to move to thrust his dagger into the elf's back again and again. His first thrust slipped against the hardened leather armor. The second was deeper and steeper. He thrust through, earning a cry from his opponent that was more surprised than agonized. Weylan threw his head to the side and took most of the force out of the next pommel blow. The world around him flickered. The light that had just brightly illuminated the cave disappeared. Light spells had run out or been extinguished by their creators, leaving only a twilight from the shadows of many scattered torches and lamps. His opponent froze in confusion and Weylan took advantage of his inattention to briefly disengage and drive the blade through his opponent's back and into his heart with full force. This time the dagger pierced the leather armor like a red-hot poker through butter. His opponent twitched in his embrace in a final rebellion of strength, in a futile attempt to free himself. Then he dissolved, sparkling.

Opponent defeated: Thief (Assassin) Level 6: 120 XP

Triumphantly, he raised his fist with the shadow blade, which was sharp and magical again in the flickering light. Before he could rejoice, however, he saw OrcSlayer pulling his sword straight out of the druid lying on the ground. Esche sparkled, and dissolved. All that remained were his robes and a gnarled cudgel. OrcSlayer raised the blade and the blood on it seemed to simply disappear. He looked into the void in front of him and wiped the air with his hand. Then he looked around searchingly. His gaze fell on the remains of clothing and equipment lying on the ground in front of the triumphant shepherd. His face twisted in anger: "Damn. That was our best assassin. Defeated by a... you! Shepherd! Are you chasing me? Not for long!"

He stomped off towards Weylan. After barely three steps, a ranger spearman confronted him. The warrior took his eyes off Weylan and glared at the obstacle. He reached into his pocket with his left hand, pulled something out, went down on one knee and smashed it hard against the stone floor. Something shattered with a clink and his hand was flung upwards by white light. White flames surrounded his hand as the knight stood up in a flash and circled it above his head. The flames left a glowing trail in the air. As the circle closed, the flame disappeared from his hand and OrcSlayer quickly ducked back down. The circle of fire pulsed once. Twice. Concentric shockwaves of light exploded outwards, carrying the spearman away. Then they crashed into the nearest fighters. Friends and foes alike were hurled meters away.

Weylan only had a heartbeat to prepare. The three shockwaves came at him. At chest level, floor level and then at his hips. He moved without thinking. He went to his knees and bent under the first one, jumped up, lying flat like a board in the air, while the second one swept under him and then dropped flat on the ground. The last shockwave barely caught him on the back and spun him halfway around so that he hit his back, which disoriented him a little. Then he straightened up and looked around. A message appeared in his field of vision:

Wow! Even I didn't expect that to work. I'm really rarely surprised. This had a 0.3% chance of succeeding. Respect.

Skill increased: Dodge (Layman III)

Skill personalization

Dodge converted to: Acrobatic Dodge (Layman III)

He wiped the message away. It was too much to process right now. Since when were messages from the Voice of the World so personal? Had he caught the attention of the gods? Was that a good thing? With his luck, this was probably the prelude to more chaos. He energetically dragged his attention back to the present.

The spearman straightened up, grabbed his spear and ran towards OrcSlayer. He swung his blade and skillfully countered the spear to the side. While he pressed the spear shaft against his body with his shield arm, blocking it, he swung his sword back. The spearman smoothly dodged backwards, drawing the spear back in the process. The sharp spearhead scraped across the plate armor on his upper body and the chain mail on his arm, sending sparks flying.

Weylan turned his back on the battle and looked around frantically. Everywhere he looked, fighters were rising to their feet, only to find opponents right in front of them. The fighting immediately broke out again. Weylan set off at a sprint to dash through the ranks to his comrades before the fighting became too thick again. He only had one chance, but he had to seize it immediately. If he could get behind one of the larger stalagmites, he would be out of OrcSlayer's field of vision for a moment. Maybe then he could disappear in the confusion.

His target disappeared before his eyes. From one heartbeat to the next, complete darkness descended around him. He dropped to his knees and rolled over his shoulder to the side, fearing an attack. Had someone caught him with a blinding spell? And even if someone had put out the lights, that wouldn't stop the undead. Zombies and skeletons could see in the dark.

He heard a soft female voice above him: "Umbra Nocturna... Umbra Nocturna... What kind of language is that anyway? I can't hold this for long. Just because I can access your magic doesn't mean I'm good with it. You could have thought of that earlier. Then we would have practiced it before. How am I supposed to stabilize these patterns of mana... You think? Then I'll let go now and it'll last a minute? Are you sure? All right..."

Something fluttered in front of his face. He hesitated, confused. The voice sounded annoyed: "Are you coming now? How much longer do you want me to wave? We need to talk!"

The last sentence, from a female voice, made him shudder involuntarily. Then he found his voice again: "I can't see you."

"I see... follow my voice." The voice guided him out of the darkness. He found himself at the edge of the cave behind a group of rocks, out of sight for the moment.

"Thank you. That helped me. Now I just have to sneak to the back of the cave and I'll be back with my group in no time."

"Wait! No. You can't go. I need to talk to you about that. Malvorik, my... master, can't finish building the tunnel."

"What, is he out of mana?"

"Something like that. You have to kill a few enemies and then you'll be fine. It's a long, complicated story, and I..."

"Blood magic. I see. Like in the old legends. But isn't it enough for someone to be killed here? They're dying like flies up ahead."

The fairy looked at him in astonishment for a moment, then nodded vigorously: "Exactly. Blood magic. But you have to kill the enemies. Because... no revenant can do it. It doesn't matter whether you get revenants or undead. You just have to agree to do it in Malvorik's name. Is that okay with you?"

"If I go back into the fray there, I'll be in a few heartbeats... Well, I won't have many heartbeats left before they cut me to pieces. Is my blood enough for his blood magic?" He sounded dejected and almost fatalistic.

"That wouldn't work. It only counts if you kill someone."

"How many? I might be able to manage one..."

"Depends on the level of the opponent. About three or four revenants. Probably twice as many undead."

"Four?" Weylan cast a quick glance around the edge of a rock. The commotion had become even wilder in the short time. Three more undead had made it into the room. The number of revenants had barely increased as far as he could see because the archers were concentrating on anyone who came through the entrance. Many of the undead also had arrows stuck in their chests, but this obviously didn't bother them. Even the assassins had put away or thrown away their knives and pulled short swords and long, crooked blades from their sheaths. In contrast to him, practically everyone had a longer reach, four or five levels more, combat experience and armor. He quickly retreated back into cover and looked at the fairy: "Are you serious?"

The fairy stopped flapping her wings and sank down onto a waist-high rock. She looked down at the ground. Her voice sounded tired: "Not only do we have no better ideas, we have no other ideas at all. We've been going about it all wrong. It just had to happen so quickly. Malvorik found you, then we had to dig the tunnel, make contact, there was never time to think and plan everything again step by step. I wasn't even sure it was a good idea to let so many strangers into our... our home."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound ungrateful. I can see that you're both making an effort. But it's just impossible. If I go out there, I'll die."

"I could shroud you in darkness for a while. Malvorik also has a spell of silence that I could try."

"I can't see anything in there either. I can see perfectly well in the shadows, but obviously that doesn't work in complete darkness."

"You have twilight vision? Do you have elf blood? Never mind! Wait... I could shroud some of the light sources in darkness. Then it'll be nice and shady. Would that help?"

"Yes. Then I'll die a little later." He hesitated, then continued: "You can also cast silence... Does that mean you can't hear anything in one area? Nothing at all?"

"I haven't tested it myself yet, but that's the idea."

"Then they can no longer collude or warn each other. And I can sneak up on them better."

"So you really want to try?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"I could try to get you out through the tunnel with darkness spells. But that only has a chance once the defenders have been overrun and most of the enemies are in here."

"I... I can't do that. The others would all die."

The fairy hesitated: "With a bit of luck, we can hide your friends and sneak out too."

"But not the duskgnomes." He stared ahead of him. A bead of sweat flowed down his face, unnoticed.

"Didn't you want to get going?" Weylan didn't move. He lowered his head and closed his eyes. He stayed like that for a moment. The dagger almost slipped from his sweaty hands. Then he nodded and looked up. His grip on the shadow dagger tightened.

"All right then. Then let's kill. For Malvorik!" The battle cry didn't sound impressive when whispered, but it gave him some courage. He was not completely alone with the fairy. He briefly discussed the tactics for the first attack, then crept around the rock.

You have made a pact with Malvorik.

The chaos in the cave had become even greater in the space of a few minutes. More undead and a few revenant cultists had made it into the cave. The balance of battle was already threatening to tip. A few duels had broken out right in front of the entrance, slowing down the onslaught of enemies. Still. Weylan could see the orange-haired warrior with his glowing sword in the thickest of the crowd, trying to clear the way for his allies.

Weylan's fingers itched to pounce on him directly, but the crowd was too dense. Those involved were too well armed and equipped. If he was honest, he had no chance against the armored warrior. He was one last grim look in his direction, then turned away and pushed closer to the nearest fighters at the edge of the cave instead. A ranger was hard pressed by two opponents in front of him. An undead, clumsily swinging a mace at him, and a tall elf, dodging each spear thrust with inhuman dexterity and getting closer to his goal with each prancing step: getting into position for a lunge and a long thrust with his rapier.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Weylan held the shadow blade in his right fist with the blade pointing upwards and gave Selvara the agreed signal with his left hand: he closed his raised hand. Then he set himself in motion to cover the last few steps. He reached out at waist height to strike the rapier fencer in the back. However, the darkness he had expected did not materialize. He quickly turned his gaze upwards, but could not see the fairy, who was invisible again, but heard a few soft curses: "Nocturus... No... Wait..."

The swordsman noticed something out of the corner of his eye and danced to the side so that he could see his opponent and Weylan at the same time. So much for the element of surprise. He parried another thrust with the spear. His main attention was on the ranger, whom he saw as a much more dangerous opponent.

"Umbra Nocturna!" The call rang out beside them. A sphere of darkness appeared between most of the fighters and light sources and their position. Most of the light orbs above the entrance. And only they were all swallowed up by the darkness. Only a few torches and light sources remained at the edge of the cave. All moving between stalagmites, stalactites and large rocks. Flickering shadows of the obstacles crisscrossed the cave. Fighters, not yet properly acclimatized to the lack of solenium light, stumbled and flailed about in panic. Several magicians on both sides immediately began to cast counter spells, but fell silent in mid-word. Weylan heard a soft "Umbra Silentiae" above him before a numb feeling settled over his ears. He couldn't even hear his own heartbeat.

Weylan ran, now completely silently, towards his target. He waved his rapier blindly and slowly retreated. Weylan bypassed the raised blade and rammed his shadow dagger into his opponent's unprotected armpit as he passed. The rapier fell from his suddenly powerless hand and hit the ground soundlessly. Weylan pulled out the dagger, took a few steps directly behind his turning opponent and then rammed the blade into the side of his neck just above the collar of his leather armor.

Opponent defeated: Fighter (Duel Fencer) Level 5: 100 XP

The ranger suddenly saw his more dangerous opponent fall to the ground and backed away in irritation. He could only recognize a vague shadow as the cause. He dodged the undead and poked the corpse with his spear. When it didn't react, his teeth flashed in a broad grin in a lonely beam of light wandering around. He whirled his spear around, changed his grip and struck the undead with sweeping blows from the shaft. Where stabs into the rotting flesh hadn't done much good, rotten bones were now breaking. Weylan picked up the rapier and weighed it in his hand. He had no skill with this kind of weapon, but sticking a sharp piece of metal into someone couldn't be that hard.

He took aim at the undead. Like him, the undead didn't mind the lack of light. He still swung his mace powerfully, but without any finesse. Weylan darted behind him and thundered the pommel of his rapier against the spine just below the skull. The bone crunched but held firm. The undead hesitated for a moment, undecided who to attack. Weylan drew back his hand and then swung the rapier just above the crossguard against the cracked bone. The skull of the undead flew away. The rest of the body swung its weapon once more, then dropped its arms powerlessly and toppled over.

Opponent defeated: Undead (Skeleton Warrior) Level 1: 10 XP

Weylan grimaced at the few EPs. He wouldn't get far here with the undead. He hurried on towards the next duel. A warrior dressed in knee-length black chainmail and wielding a mace was beating a ranger armed only with a short sword.

He hesitated, wishing he could see exactly what his opponent could do. Was it a high-level assassin? Or was the ranger simply even worse? If only he had let Detter teach him this analysis skill.

Skill learned: Analysis skill (Layman I)

Weylan froze. He involuntarily let out a quiet: "How on earth did I learn that so easily?" According to legend, learning and improving skills was extremely difficult. And he was constantly improving something here. And now this? Analysis was not a basic skill. What was going on here?

Automated response to rule request:

Opportunity to learn new rare skills: 2% per application. Maximum one test per hour

Bonuses for training under extreme conditions:

*Opponents on average 5 levels superior: +5%

*Opponents massively outnumbered: +4%

*Opponents better equipped: +4%

*Opponents better armed: +4%

*Opponents have mages: +5%

*Disadvantage: "Live in interesting times": effective probability x4

Final probability: 96%

"Four times the probability? Then how is that a disadvantage? That's fantastic!"

Automated response to rule request:

"Live in interesting times" is a disadvantage that only exists for non-player characters.

This disadvantage was available to players as an advantage in a previous instance.

Due to adverse effects on the game balance, it is no longer selectable for players in this instance.

Average life expectancy for NPCs after activation: 14

"People with the disadvantage only live another fourteen years? Damn. That must make life really dangerous. Then maybe I'll only live to be thirty."

The message flickered briefly as the AI completed the incomplete help text:

14 months

Weylan swallowed hard and forced his attention back to the immediate problems. He focused on the two fighters, who were now putting a large rock between themselves and the rest of the fighting. An ideal opportunity. He looked closely at the black-clad one and focused on the word: "Analyze"

Name: DarkShadow

Race: Human

Class: Dark Paladin (Level 6)

Strength: 16

Dexterity: 16

Intelligence: 12

Willpower: 10

Constitution: 14

Charisma: 12

The chain mail shirt, or rather chain dress, as Weylan thought, went down to his knees and up to the armored gloves on his arms. He wore a helmet with a nose guard, but it left his face quite exposed. Weylan could see steel splints on his shins and the Dark Paladin's leather boots also looked quite sturdy. Apart from the narrow edge between the chain mail and the helmet, he couldn't see any place where he could do anything with a dagger or rapier. Weylan took a cautious step back. He had no chance against this opponent. He took another step back. The paladin rushed forward in surprise, swept his opponent's short sword aside with his left arm and crushed the ranger's skull.

Weylan had almost made it back around the rock when the light suddenly came on again. The darkness had disappeared and the light from the many light sources shone on him in the middle of the room. His shadow fell on the Dark Paladin, who turned away from the ranger dissolving into sparks and saw him immediately. He checked that no one else was around, grinned and then charged towards Weylan with his mace raised high. After three silent steps, noise erupted in the cave. The next footsteps clapped loudly on the ground. Someone had also broken the silence. Weylan had no place to retreat to. Ahead, the paladin would easily cut him off, behind him the battle raged and there was no shadow or cover anywhere in sight.

DarkShadow looked at his opponent. Simple, cheap clothes, armed only with an old dagger and a rapier that he didn't know how to use, judging by his stance. He shook his head pityingly. Then he took a lunge forward and carelessly swung his mace around at head height. He swept the clumsy counterattack with the rapier aside with his armored left arm and simply ignored the dagger thrust. The blade also slid off his chain mail, as he had expected, but made a loud screeching noise in the process. The Dark Paladin stepped back in a flash and looked down at himself in irritation. In a straight line, he found deep notches in the metal rings.

Weylan's body reacted of its own accord. His legs changed position and he folded back at the knees, just below the mace.

Skill increased: Acrobatic dodge (Layman IV)

He ignored the message, springing up again, circling after his opponent and kicking at his front leg in an arc just above the ground. Darkshadow was still a touch off balance from his retreat. He was just looking up and opening his mouth to complain about the damage to his expensive chainmail when his foot was swept away. He whirled around and hit the ground with a crash on his side. A quick swing with the mace parried Weylan's attempt to stab with the rapier. Then, not taking his eyes off Weylan, he pulled his feet under his body and pushed himself up. Ice-cold sweat gathered on Weylan's forehead. He had nothing with which he could penetrate the chain mail. In the stories, a rapier could often penetrate chain mail, but only if you knew how to use it. Weylan's stabs were not strong enough to break open one of the chain links. A mace or warhammer would still shatter the guy's bones, but Weylan's weapons didn't have enough mass. And somehow the rapier felt awkward in his hand. Even with the shadow dagger in his other hand, he hadn't hit the spot he was aiming for. He turned and ran off in the only direction that was open. Straight into the thick of the fight.

Between two spearmen who had just wedged their spears into each other, he jumped over the crossed shafts and did a flying roll. Now he was in the thick of the action. But his pursuer had no chance of catching up with him. As he looked around, the Dark Paladin was smashing a Ranger's skull in from behind. The archer on the rock above him was not amused and shot an arrow into his back. The chain breaker pierced the chain mail and drove deep into the flesh. DarkShadow collapsed to his knees and took cover behind another pair of fighters.

Shadows flickered across the battlefield again as another orb of darkness appeared. Weylan grinned, thanked the little fairy in his mind and disappeared into the shadows. In the din of battle, he didn't have to be careful to be quiet. He got into position behind an assassin and took a swing with his rapier. Before he could strike, he was blinded by a bright light and fell out of the shadows. His target wheeled around. He struck. The assassin turned to the side so that the rapier passed his chest. Weylan immediately followed up with the dagger. So close to his opponent, the dagger was caught in the shadow between them, transformed and drove through the black gambeson into his back up to the crossguard. Weylan quickly pulled out the dagger and at the same time pulled back the rapier to strike again.

Skill acquired: Dual-handed combat (Layman I)

It suddenly felt a little better for Weylan to hold weapons in both hands. He was too close to his opponent for a normal thrust with the rapier, but by swinging his arm far back, he was able to ram the tip into the assassin's left thigh. The assassin retreated with a limp. But Weylan could not rejoice in his successful attack. He had concentrated too much on getting his two weapons into his opponent that he had paid too little attention to his opponent's hands. Or the jagged dagger he had in his hands. A sharp pain in his stomach made Weylan double over.

Which was better. Where his head had just been, something heavy whizzed over him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the orb of a morning star fly past. He rolled over his shoulder and crouched down to get his bearings. The cultist with the morning star hadn't even aimed at him, but had just swung wide. However, he wasn't the only one who felt threatened by it. There were protests from both sides all around him. When he looked back at the assassin, he only just caught the end of a quick movement. A throwing motion. Reflexively, he threw himself backwards and pushed off with his legs. With a backward roll, he barely escaped the throwing dagger. He straightened up to look for a safer place in the crowd. His body punished the quick movement with a hot burning sensation in his stomach.

Warning! Deadly danger:

Internal bleeding. Continuous loss of life force until magical healing or treatment by a healer with at least journeyman rank in Wound Dressing

Two swordsmen next to him exchanged a few blows. Then one of them whirled around in a flash. The sword came dangerously close to him. He dodged backwards. Something was in the way and he tripped over the feet of another fighter. He whirled his arms wildly to keep his balance. His rapier collided with one of the swords and was torn from his hand. Rolling over, it flew away in a high arc. He fell. Weylan's hand caught on something and he pulled at it to stay on his feet. What he had caught turned out to be the back sheath of a Nistrul cultist. He was desperately defending himself with two short swords against the two rangers he had recently tried to stab in the back. The cultist toppled backwards and Weylan fell to the ground, albeit slowed down. Only now did he see the assassin from earlier running towards him. This time he had swapped his dagger for a mace. Weylan braced himself against the ground, switched the dagger from his left to his right hand and took a swing. Instead of jumping towards him as if he was pretending, he threw himself to the ground. The mace passed over him and hit the cultist's back with a thud. A wet cough sprayed blood and saliva into the air.

Weylan rolled to the side and sprinted towards the assassin. The latter was still staring in confusion at his comrade, whose spine he had just shattered. Weylan rammed his shoulder into his stomach and straightened up to fling him backwards over him. His right hand grabbed him between the legs and lifted him fully above him. The hand was not empty, however, but still held the dagger. His opponent flew away with a shrill cry. Weylan looked in horror at the fine cloud of blood that he was dragging through the air behind him like a bloody rainbow. "I'm sorry!" slipped out of his mouth.

An undead kicked the face of the former man, who had just picked himself up, with full force and fell to the ground with the loud crunch of his skull bone breaking. Then the corpse vanished in a cloud of white sparks, leaving weapons and armor behind.

Opponent defeated: Fighter (Assassin level 5): 100 XP

Weylan was surprised that the dead man was counted for him, but he had no intention of complaining. He didn't have time to think about it either, as he had to dodge three fighters who were hitting each other.

He stopped and looked around frantically. Groups and pairs of opponents had formed all around him. With his knife and no armor, the bystanders only gave him a quick glance and then ignored him. He took a gasping breath and tried to catch his breath as he tried to keep an eye on all directions at once. A shrill scream caught his attention. He saw a slightly reddish glowing blade emerge from the back of an elven ranger. Obscured by the tall elf stood someone in armor. OrcSlayer. The elf was flung from the blade and Weylan saw that OrcSlayer had carelessly kicked his opponent forward off his blade. The revenant fell to the ground and disintegrated. Once his opponent was out of the way, the orange-haired warrior's gaze fell directly on Weylan: "You! Shepherd's son!" He casually parried an attack from the side and stomped forward towards Weylan. His attacker hesitated to follow him and was jumped on by a zombie in the next moment.

Weylan turned around in panic. More undead had entered the cave and it was getting tighter. A solid front of fighting had formed behind him. Simply running through it would be suicide. The other directions offered no way out, there was the cave wall. From the front came the heavily armored knight with the magic sword. OrcSlayer swung his sword back and forth casually. Then he set off with heavy steps.