In the end it isn't just one thing that guides me in the right direction. It all comes together. On one hand there is the faint smell of smoke on the breeze at first. On the other hand there is the sound of battle that soon reaches my ears. And as I let those guide me, I can see what this ruckus is all about before long.

I even receive another divine whisper as a reward for all my trouble.

[*Ding!* Your skill Spot has leveled up to level 6!]

It is a group of people, adventurers would be my guess, locked in a heated battle with a single, large figure. A large figure with mottled, green skin. On orc, and a rather fearsome one at that.

I'm pondering if I should let them finish their fight first, before I make my presence known, when realization starts to dawn upon me, that something is not right.

My brows furrow as I take in the scene properly.

The adventurers are hard pressed. A warrior wearing decent looking armor, chain mail mostly, with a few plates added on top, almost buckles under every strike he blocks or deflects. He looks exhausted, but his face speaks of grim determination anyway.

Whenever the fearsome orc presents an opening another figure with long pointy ears, I'm not sure if they are male or female, darts in, wielding a pair of lighter blades, to strike at weak spots. At first I take this adventurer for a rogue of some sort, not entirely unlike me, but an empty quiver suggests that this one might be a hunter or ranger instead.

The third and last adventurer, well the last one standing anyway, probably is a cleric or priestess of some sort. At least that is what her vestments suggest. She could be some other kind of spell caster too of course. No, what she holds up whenever she casts a spell looks very much like a holy symbol of some sort. She tries to keep the other two in between herself and the orc.

There are several more figures on the ground in between the trees where the fight is taking place. Some might have been part of the adventuring party, but it is hard to tell, considering they are a bloody mess.

Several look out of place though. Their gear looks shoddy at best. Could they be bandits? Is the nasty orc their leader? That isn't all. Their skin gives me pause. At a first glace it looks mottled, not unlike the orc's. It is only at a second glace that I realize why. They are covered in nasty looking growths. Fungal growths.

A shiver runs down my spine and I swallow hard. Mushroom zombies? Is this another way the fungal plague spreads? This prospect is truly troublesome. Could I already be infected? No, probably not. I'm pretty sure there would be a notification if I were.

Time to lend those adventurers a hand. And the best way to do that is to get a better look at the opponent. Maybe I can even distract the orc mushroom zombie, or whatever it is, if I time my skill use right. Wouldn't that be nice?

It is something I need to give a try. Thus I do. I focus and feel some of my Mana drain away, as the skill activates. The built up mental fatigue is by now getting quite noticeable, but I bear with it.

There is no level up notice, but I can feel that I'm getting close. For now I have to be satisfied with the information provided by [Identify].

[Kronk, Bandit Lord (Shadow, Uncommon, Level 7), Mushroom Zombie (Spore, Common, Level 6)]

Well, this is different. This is the first time the skill returns a name. And he seems to have more than one class, which is troublesome. Individually his levels are lower than mine, but things look different if you add them up. That would certainly explain why these adventurers have so much trouble with the orc despite outnumbering him.

Of course my skill use doesn't go unnoticed either. This time around this is as intended though. Kronk's head jerks around to face my way surprisingly quick. For a mushroom zombie he is surprisingly quick.

The adventurers on the other hand don't let this opportunity go by unused either. The warrior who was on the defense ever since I first caught sight of him, gets in an attack of his own, his heavy two handed blade cutting deep into the moldy leather armor the orc is wearing and the flesh beneath. It still isn't enough to take the zombie bandit lord down.

This one isn't like the slow and shambling myceloids at all. That much becomes clear as he whips around again, to bring his heavy, two handed club, a dangerous looking thing and not an improvised weapon at all, down on the warrior in retaliation.

Then the ranger darts in to cut at the heels of the towering orc. I can see their blades cut through the brute's boots, but the orc still doesn't so much as waiver. It is almost as if he doesn't feel pain at all.

By this time the adventurers have taken notice of me, or at least their cleric has. I can feel her using an identification skill as her gaze focuses on me briefly. Then she calls out as I approach with my blade drawn.

“Watch out!”

I'm not sure if she wants me to watch out, or if she wants to alert her comrades to my presence. For all I know she might think that I'm another bandit after all, although she should be aware that I'm not a mushroom zombie at least.

At least I understand the language, Syld, she speaks. Sadly this isn't enough to earn me a level up notification. Too bad.

I just nod and shift the grip on my sword slightly. I'd love to bring it down on the orc's neck with a mighty chop, but the damn brute towers over me by far too much for that to work. Instead I go for a stab and aim for his heart. I commit to the attack entirely, putting my whole weight and momentum into it.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Hopefully he still has a pulse. Hopefully it is where I assume it'll be. Sadly I'm uncertain regarding both the former and the latter.

[*Ding!* Hit! Kronk's Health reduced by 18!]

Not bad. Sadly it isn't good enough either. Most importantly though, it's no critical hit. Either I missed the heart or he doesn't have a heartbeat anymore.

“How much?”

It is the ranger darting in, to add two cuts of her own, who blurts out the question.

“Eighteen.”

That is as far as I get, before Kronk throws his head back to roar at us. It isn't just a simple roar though. No, this is an intimidating sound that shakes me and most of the others to the very core. Only the warrior doesn't seem affected. I just barely manage to retain my grip on my sword as I stumble back, shaking.

The warrior deflects the orc's next blow. He is too busy fighting off exhaustion and pain to add anything to the conversation. As the cleric casts another spell, a soothing light envelops the warrior and his pained expression eases, even if just a little.

The ranger, up close I'm pretty certain she is a woman, positions herself at an equal distance from both me and the warrior, so the orc will have trouble to catch more than one of us with a blow, no matter how mighty it might be.

“Eighteen, huh? Not bad. Keep it up. We really need to try and take him down before he can level up again and catch another second wind.”

I frown, as I position myself for another strike.

“That has happened before?”

Before anyone can answer I move in. I decide to go for a femoral artery this time.

[*Ding!* Hit! Kronk's Health reduced by 17!]

My frown deepens. Our enemy's armor skill must have improved. I don't even get a chance to voice my concern though, as another surprisingly fast attack of the hulking brute takes me by, well, surprise. I try to dodge, but the heavy club grazes me anyway.

[*Ding!* You have been wounded! Health reduced by 33!]

Oh, who am I kidding. It doesn't graze me. It slams into me like a runaway carriage. The hit forces all the air out of my lungs as it sends me flying. The divine whisper brushing my mind as I sail through the air is like an added insult on top of the injury.

[*Ding!* Your skill Dodge has leveled up to level 3!]

I don't know hat exactly happens next, as the pain makes me black out briefly, but we must have won somehow. As I blink the tears out of my eyes and the world back into focus the cleric and the warrior are standing over me. I can hear someone else, probably the ranger move somewhere nearby.

Finally the human warrior speaks up. He has a rumbling but otherwise pretty pleasant bass voice.

“Still with us?”

I nod and gasp in pain at the same time.

“Just barely, I think.”

The man lets out a chuckling laugh.

“You pack a decent punch and apparently you can take a hit, but you really aren't much of a fighter, are you?”

For the briefest of moments I consider sitting up. In the end I decide against it.

“What gives it away?”

This time it is the cleric who speaks up. She has a pleasantly deep voice too.

“Beyond your class? Mostly the lack of situational battlefield awareness.”

The warrior decides to add his own opinion.

“Yes. It is painfully obvious that you don't have much experience fighting.”

Then he turns to face their other party member which is still busy somewhere out of my field of view.

“Should we heal her?”

From somewhere off to the side the elf answers.

“Sure. There is nothing to be done for either Gaetano or Silvina except to grant them a proper burial. And anyway, neither her face nor her name are on any wanted posters either, as far as I can tell. Thus, sure, go ahead and heal her.”

The cleric kneels down at my side in response. She puts a hand on my chest, right over my heart and closes her eyes to speak in prayer.

“Simja, favored daughter of the woods! I beg you, mend this one's body and soul and ease her suffering.”

The effect is immediate.

[*Ding!* You have been healed! Health increases by 16!]

My breathing grows less labored as the pain recedes. I'm most certainly not all better, but I don't feel like I'm on my deathbed anymore. I close my eyes briefly, sigh and take a nice deep breath before I let the warrior help me up.

“Thank you. That was entirely too close for comfort.”

The warrior snort good natured.

“If you intend to take more hits like that one, you should look into getting some proper armor.”

The cleric still looks a little worried.

“You look like you could use some more healing. I'd rather really save some of my Mana though, in case more trouble rears its head. Are you well enough?”

I nod in response.

“I'll survive, thanks. By the way, I'm Viviona.”

The warrior pats me on the back, carefully, a smirk on his face.

“We know. Sorry by the way, for using an identification skill on you without asking first. It's just, in the heat of battle it's usually better to ask for forgiveness rather than permission.”

He points to the cleric and the ranger in turn and lastly at himself.

“These are Aila and Núira. And I'm Rami. We are the Five Blades adventuring band operating out of Riverrun.”

He frowns.

“We were the Five Blades anyway. Now we are two short. Say, you aren't a registered adventurer, but could we trouble you to lend us a hand anyway? We really could use a little help with our dead comrades, so we can get them back to the city. We really would like to make sure they get a proper burial there and not somewhere out here in the wilds.”

I can't really decline. Not without looking ungrateful. And I really want them to take me to that city, Riverrun. Thus I nod.

“Sure. What can I do to help?”

Maybe it's karma, maybe it's just coincidence, but at this point I finally receive a divine whisper I have already been waiting for.

[*Ding!* Your skill Syld (Language & Script) has leveled up to level 2!]