[https://i.imgur.com/VGCFMQy.png]

It was done with a pulse of light that swept over the village. Obit had received systemic magic.

Refenial and old mother Hecate watched the excitable boy as his eyes moved back and forth, reading his status as snow resumed falling on them.

"So what does it say?" The Old Mother said irritably after a long moment of impatient silence.

"Um, apparently, I'm not a squire. I really thought I would get squire or maybe even become a knight. I remember in one of the stories Daddy told, there was this boy who-"

"Focus!" Hecate snapped.

"Sorry, um, I don't understand this title."

"Well, just hurry up and tell us. I'm too old to be standing out in the snow all day."

"It says my title is 'Un chosen'."

"What, as in no one chose you?" Refenial asked.

Obit shook his head "No, as in U-N, then a space, then the word 'chosen'."

"That's strange. Is Un a god or an immortal or something?" Refenial asked.

Obit shrugged. "I've never heard of them. What about you, Old Mother Hecate?"

When only silence came from the old witch, both boys looked curiously at her. She was frozen so still that for a moment, Refenial thought she might have somehow died still standing up.

"A-are you alright, Old Mother Hecate?" Refenial asked nervously.

"I'm cold, tired and going to bed." The old woman said, storming off as fast and dramatically as her aged frame would allow.

Refenial and Obit exchanged confused glances as she walked away.

"Was it something I said? Maybe I should apologise to her." Obit said.

"I dunno. Perhaps she knows what 'Un' is."

The pair talked for a while before parting ways, both shivering as they returned to their respective abodes.

[https://i.imgur.com/oMrGBK6.png]

As he walked back, Refenial scratched absent-mindedly at an itch on his ruined hand.

As Refenial slipped into the hovel, he found it dark. The widow shuttered against the cold and the fire down to barely more than embers.

Hecate sat on her stool, staring into the fire, a furious look on her face.

Refenial sat quietly on the dirt floor next to the fire, gently coaxing it to life with more wood.

A long time passed before the Old Mother spoke in a venenous whisper. "That idiot boy, why him."

"What's 'Un'?" Refenial asked.

Hecate looked up as if noticing for the first time he was in the room. "It's not important. Be careful, though. That boy might just be dangerous one day."

"Didn't you say we need allies?" Refenial asked.

"Yes, we do, but with a title like that, he'll either be useless or something no one can control. Perhaps the risk will be worth it, though." She said with a wry smile.

"Keep him close, Refenial. Keep him from getting you or himself killed. Earn his trust and his friendship and temper his chronic stupidity."

"You always talk about him like he's a tool to be used. Is that how you see him. Is that how you see everyone!" Refenial said, finding his temper flare.

Old Mother Hecate regarded him cooly. "The reality of the world is use and be used. Look at that wolf in the forest. If I'd not been there to kill him, you and Obit would have died. Look at all you've gained from me. You use me every day to gain knowledge, to gain magic, to gain power. We are all tools in other people's schemes. So yes, I see him as a tool because to see him as anything else would be a lie to sleep better at night."

"You're a heartless monster," Refenial said hotly.

Hecate laughed bitterly. "I wish. It'd be so much simpler then. I am many horrible things, and I've done things that would haunt your nightmares, but despite that, I care. Evil isn't defeated by poncy heroes riding in making grand sacrifices like Obit sees the world. Evil, real evil, is beaten by those that wear shadows. Those who know how to gather power. Those who know when and where to make sacrifices in the dark so that others can prance around in the light, telling themselves they're all so good and proper. It's easy to call yourself a saint when you're too blinded by the light to see the dark."

"And who will be your next sacrifice? Will it be Obit? Will it be me? You keep saying how old you are, yet you've never been the one you've sacrificed." Refenial yelled at her.

Hecate looked to the ground in silence.

Refenial realised he had been shouting, so he lowered his voice as he continued speaking, "You said heroes get the people they care about killed; how many of the people you've cared about have you got killed?"

Hecate looked him directly in the eyes, a tear rolling down her wrinkled cheek. "More than I can count." She whispered. "But for the price I've paid, I saved more. I never sacrificed myself, and I never will, but I've saved more people by looking after myself than any self-declared hero has while looking after what's right. You are young and impatient. You think the evils of today are everything. There is always more evil in the world, more pain, more tragedy."

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Refenial opened his mouth to respond, but as he did so, deep within his soul, he felt the thing that lurked beneath begin to viciously twist and turn, fighting to escape its prison.

His eyes widened in horror as he struggled to still himself and open his soul's eyes to look within.

Hecate instantly sensed the problem. "Fight it, boy, fight it with every ounce of strength you have."

Refenial slowly managed to sink his mind deeper towards his soul. As his soul's eyes twitched, he felt another mind moving in concert with his own behind them.

The orb of his soul writhed, twisted and turned. The thing beneath fought for freedom, its blows stronger than ever before.

With a grinding cracking sensation, the thing beneath damaged his soul, tiny spidery cracks forming along one side. From deep within, little tendrils of the abyssal soul drifted out.

Refenial's body began to violently convulse as it tried to obey two masters.

Old Mother Hecate rose, floating up from her stool, her simple copper sword in hand, as the years piled on.

Refenial felt her spell lock onto him, freezing every muscle in his body in place and stopping any harm coming to him from the convulsions.

The thing began twisting its dark tendrils and weaving a spell form. As it worked, the air became thick with symbols that whirled around each other in a complexity and scale that made the connection spell look like the idle scribblings of a small child.

"Fight back, take control!" Hecate yelled at the boy.

Refenial felt his soul dragged along as the thing began reaching for the mana in the air.

Closer and closer the thing and he came to reaching the mana.

As his mind's touch almost brushed against the mana, he managed to heal the cracks in his soul, sending the horror's tentacles slamming back inside.

He could feel it inside, still but gloating, gloating and confident next time, next time it would win.

"Well done, boy, now sleep," Hecate said, and he found the world falling away. For once, his sleep was dreamless.

[https://i.imgur.com/oMrGBK6.png]

Refenial woke as if slowly rising from the depths of a great ocean. Groggily, he reached for his face with his damaged hand. His hand felt different from how he remembered it. He opened his eyes, staring at it hazily for several seconds before noticing the change. The palm had almost entirely regrown, and a nub of a ring finger was now visible. The skin though where the hand had regrown, was pale, nearly as pale as that of the Old Mother.

"Your hand is healing nicely," Hecate said, her voice shaking with age.

Refenial looked over and saw the old woman on her stool, now even more decrepit. Two walking sticks sat on her lap.

She followed his gaze down to the sticks. "I struggle to summon them now, so I'm keeping them out."

"How long was I asleep?"

"A-about a week."

Refenial winced at the stutter in her voice caused by her shaky voice.

"Well, don't just lay there all day, boy. Get up and d-dressed. I still need to tell you and the idiot child about the system."

Refenial obeyed, but as he did, his mind kept going back to the shaky old woman and how much his letting the thing slip out had cost her.

Soon Refenial and Obit sat on the dirt floor by the fire, ready to listen to the geriatric woman.

"So, I'll keep it simple enough e-ev-even an idiot could understand. Firstly you have titles and ranks. Titles are how the system sees you. The more you do while acting like your title, the more the s-system will give you. If y-you do enough, the system will increase your rank. Refenial, your title, pied piper. Pied means many coloured, so if you keep wearing the p-patched clothes I gave you and learn a musical instrument, you can gain ranks."

"What about me? What's 'Un'?" Obit asked excitedly.

"Un, the ur sword so old, Forged before time, its power untold.

A blade untarnished by any blight, Its bite too sharp, it strikes with fright.

In darkness, call upon its name, And Un will come, with dread to tame.

But be warned, for with its might, It may bring forth the darkest night." Hecate half-sung, half-spoke as she recited the words.

"I-it was a nursery rhyme, my M-Mother would sing to me. Soon you will have Un."

"A magic sword!" Obit exclaimed, looking close to hyperventilating from excitement.

"Use the sword, and you will rank up."

"Uhuh, I will, Old Mother Hecate." Obit nodded vigorously.

"Every time you rank up, you will gain a stat point. You can spend stat points to permanently make yourself more powerful in that stat." She looked down at her aged body, "W-well, even the system has limits."

She looked across the fire at the pair, "Stats are how much the system has increased something. The more you have, the more it will add. A fit man wi-with a power of two would be stronger than a lazy ch-child with a power of four. Do you understand, boys?"

Refenial nodded. "I think so. I guess we can't just look at stats to know whose stronger, though."

"Rank is often the best thing to c-c-compare, but nothing is certain. A rank 50 'humble farmer' is very different from a rank 50 ' marauding murderer'."

"What about skills? I got a skill. it says I have swordsmanship of zero." Obit chimed in.

Hecate sighed. "Sometimes, wh-when you rank up, you will get a skill or ability. Skills are like stats. They are the system making what you know work better. If you do something with that skill the system thinks is noteworthy, it will level that skill up. Until you get your skill or ability to level one, having it doesn't make a difference."

"But if I practice with a sword every day, it'll make me even better?"

"You don't have a sword." Refenial pointed out.

"Not yet, but I'm sure I'll have Un soon, like Old Mother Hecate said. Until then, I can practice with a stick."

Old Mother Hecate half closed her eyes for a long moment, and a book appeared in her hand. She let out a ragged exhausted breath as she did, Slumping slightly. "Take this, O-Obit. It's a book about swordsmanship. It's not as good as a teacher, but with the system helping, it'll get you started."

Obit quickly stood, gently took the book with both hands and bowed deeply to Hecate. "Thank you for everything. I am forever in your debt." He said a little stiffly as if remembering a line from his etiquette book.

Obit returned to sit next to Refenial. Once he'd sat down, Refenial spoke, "I got a power called 'entrancing sound'? It's also got a zero next to it."

Hecate nodded her head slowly. "Like with the skill, it won't work until it levels up. The system rarely gives more than a name of a power, but with your title, it's a good guess that if you practice with a whistle or pipe and play to someone listening, you'll level it up. I don't have an instrument, but I think a couple of the villagers can make a simple whistle and show you a little of how to play."

Refenial nodded thoughtfully.

"Now I'm t-t-tired. Go study. I want to sleep. We will talk about which stats to put your point into tomorrow."

Obit stood. But Refenial hesitated. "I'll go out in a minute. I want to talk to Old Mother Hecate first."

The younger boy nodded as he rushed towards the old woman giving her a gentle hug. She squirmed uncomfortably under the unexpected gesture. "Thanks, Old Mother Hecate, you're the best!" Obit said as he hugged her before running out of the room.

"It's my fault, isn't it? It's my fault your so weak now." Refenial said, his bottom lip quivering slightly as he fought back the tears.

"Yes. Yes, it is, boy. Remember this next time that thing tries to get loose. Whatever the cost is, no matter what, stop it."

Refenial hung his head in shame.

"I was dying long before we met, Reenial. Your f-failure only m-makes things faster."

"I'm sorry. Can't we do anything?"

"No, the only thing that could help now is mana and more of it than I could have channelled even o-on the best day of my l-l-life. Unless you've got a friendly i-immortal or about a hundred m-mortal true magic users hidden away. T-There's nothing left to do."

"Isn't there anyone that can help?"

Hecate gave an amused laugh. "There's plenty. B-but most want to p-put strings on that d-deal, and when you get a reputation l-like mine, the risk isn't worth the cost for them. There's a few who owe m-me, but it's cheaper not to p-pay, and I'm too weak to make them."

"Oh."

"Y-yes 'oh', now go away. I'm tired."

[https://i.imgur.com/oMrGBK6.png]

Refenial left the hovel and the old woman inside to rest and met up with Obit. The pair went to the younger boy's house. Only Alton was home, and when he heard the boys talking quickly offered to make a whistle for Refenial.

"I can make it, even give you a few lessons, but I'm not sure if it'll do you any good," Alton said, nodding down to Refenial's hand.

"Old Mother Hecate said it will regrow now I'm titled," Refenial explained.

The man nodded. "I'll make it tonight. I'm not a master whittler; it won't be perfect, but it'll hold a tune."

[https://i.imgur.com/3vZaHAB.png]