We work in the deepest of shadows to protect the innocents who walk in the sunlit lands.

- Motto of the Blades of the Goddess.

A dream slithered and crept into my mind as I lay in the quiet peace of contentment. It struck with the ruthless precision of a predator long honed by the hunt. I knew it to be a dream, at least some small part of me did, for the edges of my vision were blurry, and my senses felt askew, mismatched with the reality that had taken shape before me.

I stood in a forest like no other, where trees of cold stone and unforgiving rock loomed, their gnarled branches clawing at a sky forever shattered and grey.

Yet, this strangeness was no stranger to me. My nights were often haunted by dark visions, though this one seemed almost a mercy compared to the usual void-born horrors that plagued my sleep.

Cautiously, I stepped toward one of these stone sentinels, my heart heavy with dread. The bark of each tree bore a single, twisted face, locked in a silent scream. These faces were as alien as they were familiar, stirring memories best left buried. A chill crept down my spine, banishing any flicker of pity I might have felt for these damned souls.

I tried to bring up my Status menu, but all I saw were squiggly lines that melted into nothingness, meaningless symbols that teased at significance but offered none. Frustrated, I dismissed it and began to walk. The dream, I sensed, wanted me to move—it was the whole point of this unsettling reverie.

So I walked. Each step followed the next, an inexorable march through this bleak landscape of grey rock. If this dream sought to teach me some lesson or impart a philosophical truth, it was a poor and forgetful teacher, for this was a lesson I had learned long ago. I had been on many long walks. In truth, one could argue that life itself was just one long walk from one destination to another.

Disgusted with myself for even entertaining the dream, I pushed these thoughts aside. I just had to keep going, but that I realized was yet another philosophy.

But like all things, there was an end. Whether it spanned an hour, a day, or a year, I could not tell. A gossamer mist now threaded through the stone trees, curling around my lower legs like lost ghosts. Before me lay a clearing in this strange forest, a place of coarse sand and iron gravel.

Drawn to a stone altar at its center, my booted feet crunched across the unfamiliar terrain. The altar was carved in the shape of a serpent, its still form coiled around the stone like a vigilant guardian. On its surface rested a golden chalice and an obsidian knife, black as midnight.

Prizes for the one who could claim it.

I thirsted for these items, sensing their importance to me. Like a puppet on strings, I lost all control, rushing toward them, nearly stumbling in my haste. My hands shot out eagerly to grasp both.

As I touched the stem of the chalice and the handle of the knife, a surge of power filled me. In that instant, I heard the dread voice of the goddess Avaria commanding my obedience. To return to fold and know only just and innocent oblivion.

Without warning, the stone serpent around the altar came to life. It rose up, fixing me with ruby eyes that glowed with ancient power. Venom dripped from its fangs, hissing as it struck the stone.

I fought against Avaria’s insidious influence, even as I was ensnared by the serpent’s unblinking gaze. Paralyzed by its mesmerizing stare, I could not move. My limbs refused all commands, though I mentally thrashed against the constraints.

The serpent struck, sinking its fangs into the arm clutching the golden chalice. It pierced through my armor as if it were paper, driving its venom deep into my flesh. My arm burned with both numbing and searing pain, the poison spreading rapidly toward my heart.

A gravelly laugh echoed—a sound born from a time when there was only nothing. My hand, the one clutching the knife, moved of its own accord, stabbing down into the serpent as if offering it as a sacrifice. A votive offering.

I collapsed to my knees, the venom in my veins finally overwhelming me, and then I knew no more.

*****

I awoke alone covered in a cold sweat. Disoriented and disappointed, I puzzled for a moment as to where the girls had gone. More than that, I was simply glad that the last threads of the dream were leaving me. System messages filled my vision. Worried, I compulsively summoned up my Status in a panic.

You have selected High Paladin as your calling.

You have learned Purify (lvl.4)

You have learned Holy Strike (lvl.2)

You have learned Improved Medium Armor (lvl.3)

You have gained Gift - Heavenly Gift.

You have selected Void Reaver as your calling.

You have learned Decay (lvl.4)

You have learned Improved Entropic Aura (lvl.2)

You have learned Greater Drain (lvl.4)

You have learned Improved Axes (lvl.4)

You have learned Entropic Strike (lvl.1)

You have gained Gift - Entropic Gift.

You have learned Monster Taming (lvl.4)

You have gained Gift - Gift of the Mother.

[STATUS] Calling: Gilgamesh lvl.22 High Paladin/ Void Reaver

Strength: 40

Dexterity: 41

Constitution: 56

Intelligence: 29

Wisdom: 33

Charisma: 19

Luck: 28

Entropic Mimic [Creature of Entropy - lvl.27]

Health: 675/675

Stamina: 75/75

Mana: 1/1

Adaptive Defense (lvl.5)

Shield Form (lvl.4)

Absorb (lvl.3)

Perception (lvl.2)

SKILLS & PROFICIENCIES

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Improved Pain Nullification (lvl.1)

Improved Power Strike (lvl.5) 10

Improved Endure (lvl.5)

Stealth (lvl.3)

Advanced Rest (lvl.1)

Backstab (lvl.3)

Improved Dodge (lvl.3)

Advanced Polearms (lvl.2)

Improved Dual Wield (lvl.2)

Improved Critical Hit Mastery (lvl.3)

Advanced Unarmed Combat (lvl.4)

Improved Hammers (lvl.5)

Improved Flails (lvl.3)

Improved Maces (lvl.2)

Advanced Shields (lvl.1)

Improved Medium Armor (lvl.3)

Improved Heavy Armor (lvl.5)

Improved Axes (lvl.4)

Improved Daggers (lvl.5)

Throwing Weapons (lvl.5)

Double Throw (lvl.4) 5

Improved Shield Bash (lvl.3) 10

Riding (lvl.4)

Improved Dash (lvl.4) 10

Advanced Swords (lvl.3)

Crossbows (lvl.5)

Blind-Fighting (lvl.4)

Improved Rush Strike (lvl.4) 20

Tracking (lvl.1)

Trap Detection (lvl.2)

Improved Frenzied Strikes (lvl.3) 30

Monster Taming (lvl.4)

SPELLS & MAGIC

Heal (lvl.5) 5

Rust (lvl.5) 2

Identify (lvl.5) 1

Silent Casting (lvl.3)

Improved Mana Regeneration (lvl.1)

Purify (lvl.4) 3

Greater Heal (lvl.4) 10

Holy Aura (lvl.4) 2

Decay (lvl.4) 1

Greater Drain (lvl.4) 2

Improved Entropic Aura (lvl.2) 2

Inferno Bolts (lvl.3) 2

Sage’s Sight (lvl.2) 2

Freezing Aura (lvl.2)

Holy Strike (lvl.2) 1 [10]

Entropic Strike (lvl.2) 1 [10]

GIFTS

Curse of Entropy: -20% to all starting attributes.

Mark of the Paladin: 10% resistance to Dark/Holy magic. 5% resistance to Physical.

Embrace of the Void: 15% reduced resistance to Holy/Fire magic, 35% resistance to Mental Effects, 25% immunity to Mental Effects.

Mark of the Adaptive Helix: 15% resistance to Physical, Regeneration.

Mark of the Mantis: 15% greater affinity with all weapons.

Entropic Gift: 10% lowered experience gain, 10% greater affinity with all Entropic spells.

Heavenly Gift: 5% extra experience gain, 10% greater affinity with all Holy & Divine spells.

Gift of the Mother: 5% extra experience gain, 5% resistance to all negative magical effects, 5 bonus to Constitution.

Experience to next level 1728/6624

Health: 836/836

Stamina: 90/90

Mana: 22/22

I nearly jumped as I read over the Entropic Gift, cursing the negative experience gain modifier it added to my character. Fortunately, my other gifts counterbalanced it, their experience gain modifiers negating the penalty completely. Overall, thanks to my ‘evolved’ classes, I enjoyed a few considerable bonus levels to spells and skills, along with a flat boost to my magical healing and damage—at least, that’s what I assumed.

The greatest bonus, however, came from the Gift of the Mother, which raised my maximum Health to an impressive eight hundred and thirty-six.

I read over my Status at least two or three more times, drinking in the words as if they were gospel. The Mark of the Adaptive Helix had also changed, in fact, it seemed that it was the only one that could change which sort of made sense given its name. Now alongside an improved resistance to physical damage, it also gave me a plain Regeneration buff, a passive self-heal that was immensely useful.

The smell of old, stale sex hung in the room, lingering like an unwelcome guest. As I tried to determine whether resistances were additive or multiplicative, thoughts of the previous night intruded upon my calculations. Memories of wet, yielding flesh clashed sharply with the puzzles in my mind.

And, what had triggered these dreams? Did they occur every time I gained ten levels? But I was level twenty-two now—so why last night? Maybe, it was because I had been in the Dust dream, I hypothesized.

Suddenly, in contrast to this, I recalled the whimper of pain or pleasure, my hands tightening around a delicate neck as I almost reached completion. I could still feel soft hands beating against my chest in futile protest… Just a little more…

No, it didn’t matter. None of it did. It wasn’t like I planned on testing how much damage I received from a fire, holy, or dark attack anytime soon. The thought was morbid. It was good enough to know that I could probably survive being hit by a truck from the old world, or the charge of a Lumashitu, a monstrous creature that bore a resemblance to the long-dead triceratops.

But the Gifts—they held meaning. My mind toyed with their significance. They seemed balanced against each other, almost as if they were competing against one another. As I pondered this, a thought formed, could they be…?

No, it doesn’t matter, the voices whispered, and I found myself nodding.

No, it doesn’t matter, I echoed hollowly to myself.

Shaking my head, I snapped out of the fugue. After changing my clothes, I went downstairs to have a talk with Naira.

I found the woman alone in the backroom, sipping a hot, aromatic herbal tea. She offered me some, and I joined her. As we sat together, I explained my situation—at least the relevant parts—telling her what I knew and apologizing for not leaving any word with her before. To my surprise, I learned that Larynda had kept her informed over the long years, and Naira had believed me to be dead. Apparently, fewer than one in fifty had the Constitution and strength of will to awaken from a deep Dust dream. It was another mark against Vincenzio the Necromancer, one I wouldn't soon forget.

She was a good listener, and I found myself recounting how I cut out the heart of the Bulls at Larynda’s insistence. The woman absorbed every word, only interrupting occasionally to clarify or revisit a point in my tale. I also shared my plans to enter the upcoming Festival, the tournament that would soon be held in the city.

Naira was surprisingly accepting, even grateful, for everything I had shared with her. Or perhaps she was simply blasé about the wholesale slaughter of a foreign criminal organization. In the end, the benefits far outweighed the sudden intrusion upon her establishment.

She did however decide to leave me a word of warning.

“You know they will try to kill you if they find out, most likely a when, if I am honest,” Naira sighed.

I grimaced at the obvious statement. “Is that a threat? Or just rambling? They can certainly try,” was my retort.

“No, not a threat, but an observation that has to be made. I am glad that you understand the depths of your problem. And, for the people around you. Unfortunately, I have no way to help you out of it except for one small piece of advice; You had best seek powerful friends,” the older woman offered, giving me a wan smile.

My face was flat and expressionless. “Thank you for your concern, but I have things well in hand,” I replied, choking down whatever further rude reply I had.

“And, there’s one thing I’d like you to promise me,” she said, looking at me over the rim of her teacup. “This is not a threat, but a small favor for worried mother.”

I raised an eyebrow in bemusement. “What would you have of me?”

The older woman set her cup down with a long, drawn-out sigh. “If you hear anything about my daughter, see her, or get any word at all—please tell me. And please tell her that she has a home to come back to,” she pleaded, her eyes wet with unshed tears.

I waited, expecting a system message that never came. The silence stretched on, growing uncomfortably long.

Frustrated, I forced a smile, pretending I had given her request deep thought. “Of course, Naira. I hold great fondness for your daughter.”

She looked as though she was about to say something in retort, her features tensing for a moment. But she held back, nodded to me, and began quietly clearing the table.

It seems I had been excused.