Several hours before disaster…
Inside the guild, a feline-kin receptionist seemingly staring at the crowd is lost in her own world. She purrs to herself, "…Mysterious, his calm and quiet demeanor is a stark contrast to the men in these parts. I wonder if he and that girl are…"
"Ehem" Ethan exaggerately clears his throat waking the receptionist from her wild daydream.
"Oh, YOU! Uhm…" she frantically replies followed by a "yes I will."
"Yes- you'll what?" Ethan asked, confused.
"I meant to say that I am unmarried and would love to be your bride," she tries to say as smoothly as she can to mask the redness of her cheeks. She glances shyly to the side while twiddling her hair, awaiting his response.
"Oh, no. I think you misunderstand. I came over to apply as temporary guard for the night brigade," Ethan nonchalantly replied while handing over the request form he lifted from the guild's bulletin board.
"I was kidding of course! Please forget what I said." She forces a laugh.
"Sure. Now can we get back to the task at hand?"
"Yes, you'll just have to sign in our logbook and return upon completion of the task. "And, oh, we don't usually do favors for new adventurers, but here is something you can do to earn a little extra", she hands him another request form for finding a missing penguin (Reward 25 gold).
"A bonus side-quest? Sounds doable, and it pays good too. A little too good. Anyway, thanks miss, I'll be on my way," Ethan strides hurriedly towards the door. Seemingly unable to see all the signs, our shy feline decided to take matters with her own hands, she gently grabs one of his sleeves and asks "Do you… have a girlfriend?"
Ethan smiles knowingly, he finally understood what's going on. Gently touching the woman's hand, he pushes it aside as carefully and as softly as his hands can muster so as to not hurt her feelings, "I used to..."
He walks out of the guild without once looking back. As he opens the door, the receptionist looked on longingly as his silhouette basked majestically by the cascading rays of the afternoon sun.
After about half a days' walk from the adventurers' guild, he finally reached the outskirts of the town. He arrived just in time as all the novice soldiers are starting to convene.
The platoon leader, goes by the name of Allan Edgar, is an imposing figure. Clad in crimson armor and what felt like a thick invisible aura of death. While most soldiers may have not noticed it, Ethan, who nearly faced death before, was able to visualize it.
Edgar acquainted the volunteer soldiers with things to watch out during the night, his black and white sickly appearance did wonders to exacerbate his tales:
"There are plenty of things that could murder you during your watch, harken dear soldiers or you'll meet an early end. IIIF!... you see a raaaaaaven, you run. IF!... you see a masked figure who's bloody red, you run. And IFFF! your friend offers the best tasting wine even though you said something rude about his family, you run. What was it called again? Montblanc…? Amon… Amonte?-"
"AMONTILLADO!" Ethan retorts half jesting, while imitating a Spanish accent.
"Ah yes! The Amontillado! What a brave young man! You have the audacity to speak out of turn, and for that you'll be patrolling on your own while I group the rest in pairs; You ARROGANT smart-aleck." Allan snaps back.
Ethan reluctantly agrees and went on patrolling by himself.
It was a quaint night, the stars and moon hung lazily on the night sky, he walked around the perimeter in hopes of finding a suitable training spot. As he came upon a small clearing surrounded by ancient oaks, he decided this would be his training ground. Setting down his pack, he sat on a fallen log, a bit of restlessness tugging at him as he considered how to begin. In his hand, he felt the cool weight of the old parchment from his inventory. The strange, haunting words scratched across it came back to him: "Fix what I couldn't… it's up to you."
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
"Great. So, no pressure," he muttered dryly. "Just a whole world on my shoulders."
But he was here now. And somehow, he needed to figure out his powers. He pulled out some sugar plums he bought in the market when he made his way here. Lays his back over the log and gazed upon the stars in deep contemplation.
"In Joseph Campbell's monomyth, he theorized that the hero would usually receive something to aid his journey, more often than not it's in the form of a sword…" as his mind spurred by the dopamine building in his brain, he begun naming famous heroes from legends and myths together with the swords that aid their campaign,
"Beowulf's Hrunting…"
"Roland's Durendal…"
"Arthur's Excalibur…"
"Should I have a sword? But am not a warrior. Still, swords are powerful. If not a sword than what other symbolic weapon are there? The spear of Longinus? The shield of Perseus? A Legolas' bow? Nah, none of those feels right. I needed something more... me. A weapon that is tailored to me." he talks to himself, when suddenly, an idea lit up in his head. "…Lytton would disagree, he even said that the pen is mightier than the sword. Besides, I can wield words way better than a blade. It's looks cooler too."
It was only a playful idea yet Ethan was surprised by sparks puffing out of thin air, a myriad of light wisps started to coalesce in front of him forming the image of a fountain pen. When the object is about to finish rendering, a system notification prompt pops up in his head,
[Please Give a Name to your Soul Weapon]
After a brief careful thought Ethan settled with "Lexcalibre," mirroring the depth of his writing ability. A pen that transcends beyond the realm of the ordinary, one of exceptional caliber producing words that carries weight and impact.
Ethan instinctively reached out to grab it as soon as the light wisps finished materializing the pen. The attributes of the pen displayed on the status window before him,
---
[Lexcalibre (Unique)]
-Soul Bounded Item-
Passive Skill: Voiceless Auto Script
Description: Mental encoding enabled. Encoding script can no longer be interrupted save for mental attacks. Verbal and somatic components are no longer required.
---
Active Skill: Pen Pal
Description: Able to send and receive written correspondence to a designated pen pal. You can only designated one pen pal at a time. User may change designated pen pal once per day. Designate a pen pal now? [Yes/No]
---
Unique Skill: Rewrite [Upgradable]
Encoding Cost: 20 LRP (Lexical Reservoir Points) per word
Description: Grants user the ability to rewrite one characteristic of an object. Effects last for 8hrs. Lexcalibre must be used directly on the surface of the object being rewritten.
---
This scenario triggered bouts of inspiration within him as he indulged in the addictive drug of achievement and self-discovery. "Time for a test drive" Ethan muses, fully aware of his aptitude for summoning after calling forth a flaming tiger into existence. He began scribbling…
"The wicked creature, grim and greedy... long in torment, who dwell in darkness..."
Ethan continued, using the lines from the epic Beowulf to summon the fearsome monster Grendel.
"I have become death, buwahahahahahahhaha!" Ethan roleplaying as a villain. However, instead of subjecting the whims of its supposed master, Grendel was silent, his bloodshot eyes fixated on Ethan, it knew that he was the summoner, but it also knew that he was NOT his mother- and anyone who isn't its mother is FOOD.
It was about to take a bite at Ethan who was still busy giving a villain speech to an imaginary audience but something stopped it from its tracks as it wailed, thrashed, all while trying to cover the lump of flesh where humanoid ears are supposed to be located. It craned its neck towards the direction where faint sounds could be heard. Letting out a deafening screech, it made a beeline, ramming through trees and other obstacles in its way.
Ethan now aware of Grendel's unexpected behavior, gave chase while trying to unsummon it only to realize that he did not know how to unsummon. He knew how to create things almost as naturally as breathing, but now he is out breath and at a loss for words. After all, how is he even suppose to visualize erasing the indelible marks of a fountain pen? It wasn't like a pencil that could be erased easily. He summoned a calamity that can't be easily undone.
"I-I messed up," Ethan faltered. His hands shaking, his mind racing, his heart pounding. A wave of desperation crawled over his skin. Overwhelemed by the unbearable weight of accountability and helplessness, every step he took felt heavy, as if his legs shackled by invisible burdens that he had subconsciously placed upon himself.