Feela slashed at the monster. Her spear darted forward, repeatedly striking its weak spot until it fell to the ground, dead. Moments later, it disappeared in a cloud of blue essence.

Whew, another one down. This beginner dungeon is tough.

She rested on a rock while she chugged from a water skin. In the corner of the cavern, a fist-sized puddle caught her attention. The puddle’s surface was a glassy mirror, a pool of mercury glowing with an ethereal blue light.

A phantom pocket.

Feela knew they were dangerous. Her parents had warned her never to touch them. Good people vanished and never returned, or so the rumors said.

Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

Yet something about the phenomenon called to her. Beckoned her.

Before she knew what she was doing, she was on her knees, reaching for the silvery liquid.

Her fingers dipped below its surface.

You have been subjected to Craven’s Phantasmal Drift

Incoming physical attacks reduced by 90%

Outgoing physical attacks reduced by 90%

Incoming spiritual attacks increased by 90%

Outgoing spiritual attacks increased by 90%

Gods above. What have I done?

Little did she know, she’d begun a reckless journey to power.