Mel woke up in complete darkness, on a cold, hard slab.
Not the best start to the day, she thought to herself.
As she licked her dry lips, it became apparent that the metallic taste in her mouth was not the result of a wild night spent drinking and partying.
Turning her head to the side, Mel spat out the coin in her mouth. “Gross.”
She couldn’t remember how she got here or why her bed was so damn stiff, but that wasn’t entirely unfamiliar territory for her.
“Must’ve been a good night if I can’t remember it,” Mel muttered to herself.
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she knew something was wrong.
Her voice was uncomfortably loud, and the coin sounded like it had bounced off her skull. There was an odd timbre to both sounds that sent a tingle down her spine. Not the fun “nearing the crest of a rollercoaster” tingle, but something considerably darker.
A spark of fear flashed in her belly. Getting stuffed into a coffin wasn’t common, even in Mel’s odd life, but it was an experience she would never forget. The claustrophobia. The density of the air. The hot, uncomfortable sensation, like somebody had just put a velvet sack over her head.
Mel rolled to the right, trying to get out of bed but secretly knowing what would happen. Her left shoulder scraped against stone where there should only have been air.
A lid.
Her breathing sped up even as she struggled to keep calm.
“It’s just a prank,” she told herself. Though she couldn’t think of who would dare. Her history of vengeance was well known.
Shifting to her back, Mel moved her hands around and wiggled her toes until she came to one very definitive conclusion.
“Yep, this is a coffin.”
She mentally corrected herself, sarcophagus…probably.
Which naturally led her on a wild mental tangent as she tried to determine what the difference was between a coffin, a tomb, and a sarcophagus.
Focus up, Mel! she mentally chided herself. It’s just a really small prison. You’ve gotten out of those before.
Keeping calm wasn’t working. She needed out of this confined space with its rapidly dwindling air supply.
Bracing her shoulders against the stone slab beneath her, Mel pressed her palms to the heavy lid. She heaved with all her might, but nothing happened.
Mel couldn’t tell whether the air was getting thinner or if it was her imagination, but there was only one thing she could do about it, so she heaved again and again.
Her arms trembled with the strain. Even if the sarcophagus wasn’t locked or sealed, she wasn’t sure she could get the proper leverage to push hard enough.
As soon as her arms dropped back, burning and shaking, something flashed in the infinite, crushing darkness.
Words that burned like fire and glowed like molten gold wrote themselves across the air. Unfortunately, their brilliance did nothing to illuminate the dark confines of her prison.
And the words were even worse.
New Quest: Breathless
Pick a Class before air runs out of your Hero’s Tomb coffin.
Objective: Select a starter Class (0/1).
Time remaining: 240s
Reward: Freedom
[Exile Weapon Rack]
[Exile Armor Shelf]
“Very cool,” she said dryly. “I’m either hallucinating or my life is about to get way, way, way worse. I didn’t sign up for this shit.”
She slapped her palm painfully against the inner stone lid. “Did you hear me?! I do not consent to this!”
The silence that greeted her was deafening. Her heart pounded so hard she was certain anybody standing outside her tomb would be able to hear it.
If her luck was this bad, there was no way she could look to anybody else for help.
With a force of will that could bend steel, Mel took hold of her breathing until it was slow and steady. She focused on the glowing words. The name for them percolated through her oxygen-starved brain.
“Shardscript,” she whispered. Her memories were starting to feel like Swiss cheese. She knew that word already, didn’t she? “Show me the classes.”
For a moment, she thought it didn’t work. Then the golden Shardscript blazed to life and scrolled into view.
[Brawler]
Always on the front lines, a Brawler is trained in a host of weaponry and desires the thrill of battle above all else. The challenge of combat drives them to ever greater heights, fueling their advancement.
Focus: Strength & Agility | Physical Damage | Offense | Red & Green Chroma
Skills
[Light Armor Knowledge], [Basic Weapon Knowledge], [Medium Armor Knowledge], [Grudge], [Combat Art: Exploit]
Whether this was a hallucination or worse, she might as well play along. She couldn’t remember how she got here, and what she could remember did not match up with this insane situation.
Choosing a class? That definitely didn’t make any sense.
The quest was clear that she needed to pick one of these things if she wanted to breathe fresh air again. Even in a mildly delirious state, she understood that much.
There was no time to properly vet each class. She could only hope that there weren’t a thousand to choose from. She would run out of air before she got to the end of the list.
A suboptimal class is better than suffocating, she reminded herself. We’re just going to full-on embrace this shit and roll with the punches. I’ll figure out the rest later.
If Mel broke out and somebody in a white coat started chasing her, then at least she would know she had finally snapped instead of the wild reality in front of her.
The more she looked at the glowing text, the harder it was for her to remember much of anything.
Okay, Brawler, she thought to herself, reading the description. Sounds like my sort of style, but there’s no information on the skills.
Though she didn’t want to use up her limited air, she whispered, “More info.”
Nothing happened.
“I need more info on the class skills and whatever the hell this chroma stuff is!”
Again, nothing.
“Dick.”
The system obviously didn’t respond to her, but it made her feel better. She counted that as a win.
A mental nudge brought up the next selection.
[Archer]
With keen sight and unparalleled patience, the Archer waits for the perfect moment to strike. The first (and last) thing the enemy of an Archer sees is an arrow streaking toward their heart.
Focus: Agility & Sense | Ranged Physical Damage | Stealth | Red & Green Chroma
Skills
[Light Armor Knowledge], [Bow Knowledge], [One-Handed Weapon Knowledge], [Owl Sight], [Combat Art: Powershot]
There was another reference to Red and Green chroma, suggesting that Archer and Brawler at least had something more in common than the armor they wear.
Still lame, she thought, trying to preserve as much oxygen as possible. If this is my new life, I’m not being a damned coward hiding in bushes to snipe people who can’t see me. At least Brawler has some balls. Next.
[Mystic]
No stranger to combat, a Mystic deftly weaves magic and martial prowess in equal measure to bring pain to their enemies. There is no creature more deceptively dangerous than an unarmed Mystic.
Focus: Agility & Arcane | Magical Damage | Offense | Red & Yellow Chroma
Skills
[Light Armor Knowledge], [Basic Weapon Knowledge], [Novice Ritual Magic Knowledge], [Mana Hardening], [Combat Art: Quickstep]
Red was the same color as the others, but Yellow was new. All three classes shared agility as a stat. She couldn’t be sure exactly what that meant beyond the obvious definition she was familiar with.
All right, she thought to herself. Now we’re getting somewhere. Proper magic, a focus on speed…probably, but without all that silly staff business? Let’s put a pin in Mystic.
Quest Update: Breathless
Time remaining: 181s
Yep, I can feel the air getting lighter, thanks. No need for a timer.
[Mage]
An eternal student of magic, Mages unravel the mysteries of the cosmos while simultaneously using their knowledge to unravel their adversaries. Ritual spells expand their repertoire exponentially and make them a force to be reckoned with the multiverse over.
Focus: Arcane & Sense | Ranged Magical Damage | Offense/Support | Red & Violet Chroma
Skills
[Light Armor Knowledge], [Initiate Ritual Magic Knowledge], [Magic Weapon Knowledge], [Mana Well], [Combat Art: Glint Barrier]
Mel looked over the skills and compared them to Mystic’s. There was a lot of overlap, confirming her previous theory that Mystics were basically melee Mages.
They both focused on arcane, but now that sense stat was back in the mix. She could guess well enough that Red was likely something to do with attacking. All classes with Red so far stated they focused on damage.
The secondary color was anybody’s guess, though she had some very delirious theories. Many of which were most certainly wrong.
[Acolyte]
Clerics without a god to call their own. Acolytes may appear weak, but their capacity to soothe wounds and render potent poisons inert engenders stalwart followers and devout protectors.
Focus: Sense & Arcane | Ranged Magical Damage | Recovery/Support | Blue & Green & White Chroma
Skills
[Light Armor Knowledge], [Magic Weapon Knowledge], [Initiate Ritual Magic Knowledge], [Tranquil Heart], [Combat Art: Sacred Path]
Another type of magic user, except this one heals.
Acolyte didn’t appeal to Mel at all, which was great because she could jump to the next class.
It did, however, confirm her suspicion about Red being offensive in some way. Acolyte had Blue, Green, and White. It was the only class that did not list “offense” as a parameter.
Not that it mattered. Being a healer sounded worse than being an Archer. Always stuck on the back lines, relying on somebody else? Hell, no.
[Defender]
Clad in heavy armor, Defenders stand as towering fortresses to bar the path to more tender targets. Devoid of a charge in which to protect, Defenders are juggernauts on the battlefield, shrugging off blows that would kill most any other class.
Focus: Vigor | Physical Damage | Defense | Blue & Green Chroma
Skills
[Heavy Armor Knowledge], [One-Handed Weapon Knowledge], [Shield Knowledge], [Stout Heart], [Combat Art: Bull Rush]
Mel didn’t care about being on the defensive either, so that meant Defender was out.
She liked to dish out the pain, not take it.
Each breath now came in short, shallow gasps. She was nearly out of time, and Mel was still torn between Brawler, Mystic, and Mage. The lack of oxygen made it even harder to think.
Being up close and personal was more her style. That meant that Mage was out, despite how much she loved magic.
Who doesn’t?
Anybody who said they wouldn’t want to learn magic was either delusional or an idiot.
Quest Update: Breathless
Time remaining: 10s
Without the luxury of time to agonize further over the decision, Mel made her choice. “Mystic!”
The coffin’s lid slid free all on its own, finally bringing the relief of light and air to Mel.
“Stale, dry air has never tasted so good,” she gasped.
Class Unlock!
You have selected [Mystic] as your Class.
The influx of information that poured into Mel’s brain was immense and overwhelming, triggering the world’s worst migraine.
[Light Armor Knowledge]
(Class Skill)
(Mundane, Trait)
Standard knowledge and training detailing the proper way to maneuver in light class armor.
Imprint: Grants the ability to wear light armor.
[Basic Weapon Knowledge]
(Class Skill)
(Mundane, Trait)
Standard knowledge and training detailing the proper way to wield all basic weapon types.
Imprint: Grants the ability to properly wield non-specialized weapons.
[Novice Ritual Magic Knowledge]
(Class Skill)
(Mundane, Trait)
Standard magical knowledge and training detailing the proper way to cast ritual magic.
Imprint: Grants the ability to cast ritual magic of G-Tier and below.
[Mana Hardening]
(Class Skill)
(Mundane, Trait)
Mystics, like Mages, naturally possess a surfeit of mana. Unlike Mages, however, they use their excess mana to harden their bodies, making them more resilient to magical damage and effects.
Imprint: Increases damage resistance to magical attacks and effects.
[Quickstep]
(Combat Art, Weapon)
(Mundane Rank)
Cost: Very Low Stamina.
Popular among Assassins and Thieves, this defensive combat art increases speed temporarily to avoid damage and provide an opportunity for a counterattack.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Imprint: Increases speed temporarily, allowing you to dodge incoming attacks. Usable on all melee armaments.
Mel took a few moments to read the skills and revel in the ability to breathe freely again. Her head still felt fuzzy, though. “Okay, now let’s see what mess I’ve gotten myself into.”
There was just enough room to sit up in the sarcophagus. Scantily illuminated in pale light, the lid was pushed aside at an angle which allowed her to shove it off entirely.
It crashed to the ground, shattering on impact and rattling the sarcophagus. Mel climbed out of her prison and landed gently on the rubble-strewn ground, eager to embrace freedom.
Quest Complete: Breathless
Objective: Select a starter Class (1/1).
Rewards: Freedom
[Exile Weapon Rack]
[Exile Armor Shelf]
Before she had a moment to consider the Shardscript outlining her rewards, another flood of information hammered at her. Mel gripped the sides of her head. Blonde hair spilled out between her fingers as she tried to stop her head from exploding.
New Quest: Convocational
With the uplift of Earth-Lormar, you and the rest of your kind have been given a second chance at life in the Shardrune multiverse. Choose your path wisely. Endless possibilities await those brave enough to seize them.
Objective: Equip your starting gear.
Reward: Access to the Convocation’s [Exile G-League Trial (1st Echelon)] and the Shardrune multiverse.
“The hell is a Convocation?” Mel asked aloud, hardly expecting an answer. “Sounds like something you’d hold at the Brooklyn Expo.”
The system made it clear that she wasn’t going to get more information until she did as it asked. Seeing as she would have died without the system opening the sarcophagus, she didn’t feel her usual need to press the limits of the system’s patience.
Assuming it had any.
“Yeah, yeah,” Mel said with a snort. “It puts the lotion on its skin and all that.”
The more the system shoved knowledge into her head, the harder it was for her to remember parts of her life. However, her abject hatred of authority seemed to have survived intact.
In the pale light, she was finally able to get a good look at herself. She was wearing a black slinky…dress?
No. Despite her recent memories vanishing like mist in the sun, she recognized that silver banding. This was a burial garment. Mel could guess well enough what happened, but not why.
She had been buried alive.
Mel looked around. This square stone chamber had seen better days. Most of the torches lining the walls were out. At least some were lit, though she didn’t like to think about how that was possible.
The discomfort of the rubble under her bare feet forced Mel to step to the side onto the cold, dusty stone tiles.
She found her rewards pushed up against the wall.
Taking stock of her environment led to more questions than answers. It was a dusty old room deep underground, if the scent of old dirt and roots poking through the ancient stone brick walls were any indication.
Two torches burned with a pale dim light that reminded her uncomfortably of fluorescent office lighting. They were just bright enough to see by, but hardly enough to banish the shadows in the small room.
Stranger than the coffin or the magical appearance of a weapon rack and shelf of armor was the archway that should have led out of the room. Instead, it was filled with a thick fog that drifted down from the top of the arch, leaving no gap for her to view the next room.
Even more curious was the way the fog simply stopped existing beyond the recessed arch. It pooled and rolled forward but never entered the room as normal fog would.
“I’ll deal with you later,” she said, pointing at the door.
Reaching into the coffin, Mel groped around for the coin she vaguely recalled spitting out. It was an old burial tradition. Seeing that she was all alone, it was the only clue about her mysterious arrival.
“Not like I can ask somebody what the hell happened to me,” she grumbled, examining the coin in the light.
Hardly surprising, Shardscript flashed into her mind to provide a bit more information.
[Ferryman’s Obol]
An old handmade coin of flattened molten gold stamped with a horned sigil on one side and a boat on the other.
Imprint: Unknown.
“For magical text, you kinda suck.”
Practically naked except for the thin and freezing burial dress, Mel set the coin on the edge of the sarcophagus. “If I ever get out of this, I need to make sure my will states all burial dresses must have pockets.”
That gave her an idea. She looked around and said, “Inventory!”
Nothing happened.
“Oh, eat a bag of dicks, system.”
She walked over to the shelf of armor, guessing that was her best bet to cover herself up. The last thing she wanted was to get hypothermia walking around.
Mel didn’t want to walk out in a nightgown. This wasn’t Wal-Mart.
The shelf was full of leather armor. Though old and beaten, the equipment looked more than serviceable. Eager, Mel picked up the thigh-high boots and pulled them off the shelf.
“Not quite FMBs, but close,” she said with a grin. A grin that quickly slipped from her face as the sole fell off one boot, then the other disintegrated in her hand.
“….Aight.”
Dusting the boot ash off her hands, since that was all that was left of them, Mel reached for the pants next. They broke apart after more than a second off the shelf.
Breathing in deep through her nose to stop from screaming in rage, Mel did the only adult and mature thing she could think of.
She swept all the items on the shelf to the floor. Nearly everything burst apart or turned to dust after a few moments.
Everything but two items.
Reaching down, she pulled out a long leather duster coat with a high collar. She flapped it to get the dust off it and examined it closer, surprised when it didn’t burst into flames or something else equally terrible.
[Exile Mystic Coat]
(Copper Rank, Armor)
(Common)
Red armor granted to newly inducted Exile Mystics to the Convocation. This high collared, long leather coat trails down to the wearer’s heels, offering physical protection for most of the body. The cloth inner lining is stitched with pockets, offering space for various small items.
Imprint: Raises cold insulation. Resists bleed effects. Attunes to the wearer’s first wielded aspect to alter this armor’s imprint effect.
“Sweet.” Mel immediately put it on and buttoned it up. Her burial dress was hardly what she considered clothing, but it was better than nothing.
Immediately the chill of the room abated, indicating that the cold insulation effect was magical in some way. Which was absolutely fine with her.
Sifting through the dust and tattered pieces of destroyed clothing, Mel found the second item. A tarnished silver ring.
[Exile Storage Ring]
(Copper Rank, Armor)
(Uncommon)
A silversteel ring enchanted with the power to hold a limited number of items within a magical pocket dimension.
Imprint: Impart mana to access inventory space. Small item capacity.
Mel slipped the ring onto her finger. A tingle in her arm clued her in to what she needed to do, but it still took her a few tries to impart mana to the ring.
It was a bit like extending her will through her body and into the ring. As soon as she did, a small blue line of light appeared in front of her hand. The light rotated, revealing a small gray cube of space lit by an unknown light source that failed to spread into her room.
“All right, this is more like it.” Mel took her [Ferryman’s Obol] and tossed it inside. The coin bounced on the simple gray floor, rattling around until it finally came to a stop.
Light doesn’t pass through in a traditional way, but sound does. Interesting. Not that she had any way to use that information, but Mel was curious by nature. She couldn’t help herself.
With a focused thought, the pocket dimension turned back into a single blue line of light and vanished.
She turned to the weapon rack and reached for the first weapon she saw: a simple broadsword.
Fully expecting the weapon to rust and turn to dust in her hand, she was pleasantly surprised to find that she could swing it around without issue.
Setting it back in the rack, Mel took out a spear next. She felt a strong connection to the weapon. A series of disconnected memories assaulted her mind. She saw herself soaring through the air, impaling monsters, a ghostly blue dragon’s visage accompanying her most devastating attacks.
“Hal?” she muttered, confused.
Why did I say that?
Her head pounded worse than that time she tried cheap Chinese whiskey, forcing her to put the spear back.
On a hunch, she pulled out the spear and the sword. Not that she could use them together, but just to test how many weapons she could take.
The rack didn’t respond immediately, but after a single heartbeat, it pulled the sword out of her hand.
Mel tried again. This time, the spear flew out of her hand.
“Point taken,” she told the rack. “Only one weapon.”
With the rack’s defenses down, she snatched two weapons as fast as possible. The second weapon she picked up was pulled out of her grasp even faster than before.
She gave the rack a grudging look of respect. “Touche.”
Mel took out the spear again and spun it through a series of familiar patterns. Some of it she was sure came from Mystic’s [Basic Weapon Knowledge], but there was a deeper familiarity there. As if she had used a spear long ago but couldn’t remember.
Whenever she tried to think about it, her friends, family, or much about her life before this moment, her head felt like it was splitting open.
She wanted something with the reach of a spear, but she didn’t like the lone point. Her familiarity made her look for something similar, and there were dozens of weapons on the rack to choose from.
There were more types of weapons available than she knew what to do with, but she quickly found a weapon that looked different from the rest. It vaguely resembled a swordstaff, but with two blades instead of one.
The moment Mel held the weapon, she knew it was the one. It looked like somebody had fused two swords together at the pommel. She gave a few delicate spins of the weapon, surprised at how well-balanced it was.
On the back or front swing, she could slice with one of the blades, keeping herself on the offensive at all times. Of course, that meant she could just as easily cut herself, since it felt a little unwieldy.
Mel held the weapon in both hands, realizing it was never meant to be wielded with just a single hand. Now she could spin it like a polearm with all the advantages of not one, but two sword blades.
Impressed, she examined the weapon.
[Exile Twinblade]
(Copper Rank, Weapon)
(Common)
A sword with blades extending from both sides of the hilt. This weapon is suitable for beginner combat and little else, created for new prospects that survived being inducted into the multiverse.
While it was an unusual weapon, the [Exile Twinblade] lacked an imprint of any kind. Imprints seemed to be extra bonuses and magical effects. The weapon was obviously as strong as whatever Copper rank and Common rarity were. Which felt familiar, but she couldn’t say why.
Mel was not the type to dwell or ruminate if she could help it. She quickly moved on to find some way to store the weapon. As nice as the weapon was, she struggled to imagine a proper sheath that would hold it without encumbering her. Finding nothing, she set it across the opening of the sarcophagus.
Quest Complete: Convocational
Objective: Equip your starting gear (1/1).
Reward: Access to the Convocation’s [Exile G-League Trial (1st Echelon)] and the Shardrune multiverse.
You unlock [Wayward Traveler] and [Status].
Raising a blonde brow, Mel was more than a little interested in that last one. “Status?”
[Melody Harper]
Race: Human
Standing: [#N/A] Exile (G-League) [1st Echelon]
Class: Mystic
Rank: Mundane
Next Rank: Copper (0%)
[==Attributes==]
Strength [No Aspect Bound]: Mundane (Grade 0)
Agility [No Aspect Bound]: Mundane (Grade 0)
Vigor [No Aspect Bound]: Mundane (Grade 0)
Sense [No Aspect Bound]: Mundane (Grade 0)
Arcane [No Aspect Bound]: Mundane (Grade 0)
[==Knowledge & Traits==]
Class: [Light Armor Knowledge], [Basic Weapon Knowledge], [Novice Ritual Magic Knowledge], [Mana Hardening]
Combat Arts: [Quickstep]
[==Racial Abilities==]
[Shardscript System]
[Shardrune Quests]
[Wayward Traveler]
[Adaptability]
Mel frowned. She might not have all her memories, but she knew she hadn’t been called by her full name since she was in pigtails. “My name is Mel,” she told the system. “Just Mel.”
Her name wriggled and shifted until it displayed her preferred name. She nodded to herself, looking over everything on display. The aspects were the most curious thing of all. And the attributes had rank grades?
She wanted to know more.
“Help?”
Nothing.
“Can’t blame a girl for trying.”
She was considered Mundane rank, which didn’t take a genius to guess what that was. However, it meant that her weapon and armor were both technically stronger than her.
Thanks to her status, she knew that Copper was the next rank, so they weren’t too far ahead of her. Though how long it would take to get to Copper was anybody’s guess.
There were five attributes, all of which were the same level of power. No values, which somehow felt alien to her. It was more than the fact that most games had numerical values for their stats. It felt like they were missing. Like when you get a tooth pulled and you can’t stop your tongue from probing the empty socket.
Her first two racial abilities seemed obvious, but the third and fourth were different. Clearly, she already had the other two, or else she wouldn’t have gotten the quests or been able to see the Shardscript.
“What do my skills do?” she asked.
The deluge of Shardscript that greeted her was startling. Sure, now you give me more info!
“Just my racial abilities,” she added.
The system obliged, drastically cutting down on the text floating in front of her.
[Shardscript System]
(Violet/System Trait)
Reality interface interconnected with the multiverse realms. Renders powers, progression, and characteristics perceivable in all languages.
[Shardrune Quests]
(Orange/System Trait)
Reveals personalized quests manifested from events, conflict, and actions. Modified by fate, souls, Deeds, rank, and chroma. Completed quests earn Deeds that magnify runes of experience gained.
[Wayward Traveler]
(Green/System Trait)
Accelerated core language learning. Intrinsic ability over aspect binding and skill awakening, along with combat art wieldance, ashen weapon apparition, rudimentary ritual magic, and soul kiln attunement.
[Adaptability]
(All/Human Trait)
Slightly enhances all chroma and skill accumulation. Enhances survival in extreme situations or when under duress. All chroma colors are slightly enhanced.
“No idea what a lot of those things mean,” she admitted. “Ashen weapon apparition, chroma accumulation? Sounds like a technical manual.” Mel reached over and grasped her weapon, turning it over curiously.
The weapon disappeared.
“Yo, what the hell?!”
The moment she grasped for the vanished weapon, wondering what happened, it reappeared in her palm.
“Oh.” She blinked and thought about storing the weapon.
It disappeared in a swirl of silver ash.
Focusing her mind on recalling it, the weapon reappeared in her hand. “Oh! I can get used to this.”
She made her weapon appear and disappear with ease, relishing in the simple joy of uncomplicated magic.
It felt right. Like she already knew what to do.
Just like the Shardscript. These things were her link to what she knew and understood about the world. Or rather, the multiverse?
She shook her head.
The soul kiln was more obscure by far. She didn’t understand much about it and the system clearly wasn’t going to explain unless it had to. Which seemed to require her to already have the skill first.
Mel skimmed her class skills. They hadn’t changed.
“No better time to learn than on the job,” she said to herself, twirling her twinblade and approaching the arch.
A flurry of silver ash swirled around her hand as she dismissed the weapon and popped the collar on her jacket to ward against the cold. Mel still had no pants, no shoes, no gloves, and nothing for her head, but she was as ready as she would ever be.
The fog wall slowly vanished as she approached the archway, letting Mel out of the room once and for all. She gently padded over, putting her hand on the cold stone and leaning into the arch to see what fresh hell awaited her.
An ancient throne room filled with disjointed columns marching in pairs alongside the outer walls greeted her. She expected more rooms. What she didn’t expect was the strange vaporous creature forming at the center of the room.
It was about the size of a toddler and growing at an alarming rate. Thin streams of fog were pulled in from large pots stationed against the walls, infusing it with magical power.
Wriggling her fingers in the air, Mel could feel the strong emanations of magic coming off the creature. The monster seemed totally unaware of her presence. It kept its back to her as it pulled in more and more magical mist.
It looked weak. At least as far as a literal monster could appear weak. But that was changing fast.
The Shardscript that flashed across her vision made it clear what she had to do.
Welcome to the Convocation!
Current Standing: [#N/A] Exile (G-League) [1st Echelon]
Current Trial: Remnants (Elemental Plateaus)
Participants: Earth-Lormar
Duration: 2 Standard Months (56 days).
You have joined the competition as a Mundane Mystic. Earn Battle Points by fighting fellow challengers and monsters to improve your standing to earn a higher placement in the trial.
Battle Points can be spent at the Emporium for rare advancement ingredients and necessary materials. Your placement at the end of the trial determines the rewards you receive, as well as future participation in higher rated trials.
The Emporium will open as soon as you earn (1) Battle Point.
Mel stared at the description and then the mist monster.
Looks like you gotta die, baby mist boy. Mama needs her Battle Points.
As much as she wanted to barrel down the steps and cut down the monster immediately, Mel wasn’t stupid. She could see it was drawing strength from the pots around the outer walls.
It would be the height of idiocy to rush the thing and attack it without assessing her options. She found herself gauging distances and what paths she could take to each of the three pots that were feeding the monster.
The first was easy. She slipped down the steps, glad for once that she was barefooted. She doubted she could have been as quiet with her preferred heavy boots.
Below the stairs was the first pot, its heavy ceramic lid opened and propped up against its bulky side. Quietly as she could, she lifted the heavy lid and slid it into place.
The stream of mist quickly cut off. The tail end trailed across the ground to the creature’s back. Mel rushed to the side and just managed to put a pillar between herself and the creature when it let loose a horrible wail.
Squatting down low, she peeked around the pillar. The creature had turned its head around like an owl’s, staring with red-glowing eyes at the pot she had just shut.
So the trail of mist is like a burning wick, she thought to herself. It doesn’t know it’s cut off until it stops getting its monster juice.
Mel moved to the next pot on her side of the room, repeating the process again as swiftly and quietly as possible. Once the pot’s lid was on, the trail of mist dragged across the floor.
The creature was clearly not that bright. It kept its eyes fixed on the first pot as if she would somehow return. Instead, Mel kept the trail of wispy mist in sight as she darted across the open room on the balls of her feet.
She stubbed her toe on an uneven tile of stone and had to bite back a curse that would have given her away. Staggering behind a pillar, she put her back to it and hid fully as the second wail split the air.
With a single pot to go, it finally found Mel.
Untethered from two out of three sources, it roamed the room in a wide arc. The pillar was large, but it wasn’t large enough that she could stay hidden forever. There was one thing about the monster she hadn’t noticed until just then.
The creature was fast.
It lashed out with clawed hands that Mel just barely managed to duck beneath. Deep claw marks rent the stone with an ear-piercing screech, like nails on a chalkboard.
Tumbling to the side, Mel summoned her twinblade and swiped at the creature’s middle. It didn’t even bother to block or dodge as her blade cut through it with hardly any resistance.
She found out why a moment later as the two halves reformed.
“Balls,” she cursed, and slashed again.
The creature, now nearly equal in size to her, reached out but lost its grasping arm at the elbow. The mist fell to the ground, broke apart, and drifted toward the creature’s undefined lower half.
With a little time bought for herself, Mel dismissed her weapon and bolted for the final pot. She got there just as the creature reformed its arm. Mel slammed the pot lid down at the same time as its clawed hands raked her back.
She let out a scream of pain. The coat blunted the worst of the damage, but it still hurt like hell. She could feel hot fiery lines running down her back.
Rolling to the side to avoid another strike, Mel hopped back and summoned her twinblade in a flurry of silver ash. “You wanna dance, big man? Let’s dance!”
Now slightly taller than her, but with fully defined legs and feet, the creature was slower than before. It rushed at her. This time, Mel was ready. She raised her twinblade to block like a staff, marveling at how easy it was to wield.
The first of its clawing strikes was repelled by the block, but when Mel kicked out with all her force into its middle, her foot went straight through it.
“Not fair!” she snarled into the creature’s humanoid face.
That didn’t stop her from trying to cut the creature down, but it only served to enrage the monster.
Its attacks grew fiercer, forcing Mel to frantically parry or get disemboweled. Her knuckles bled freely where the creature got in a lucky hit on bare skin. Mel hopped back, her body jolted by the pillar that was in her way.
The warmth of a torch burning overhead took away some of the chill in the room. As the creature waded in, the temperature dropped, then it paused.
It was just a moment, but Mel had clearly noticed the pause and shift in its movement. It came at her in an oblique path rather than the straightforward aggression it had shown up until now.
Mel grinned, batted aside a series of probing attacks and then used her twinblade to extract the torch from its bracket on the pillar.
The monster circled her carefully, its red eyes glued to the torch in her left hand. In her right hand, she awkwardly held the twinblade. It wasn’t very effective wielded like that, but she could still use it.
Mel poked and prodded with her twinblade. The mist monster paid it as much attention as before. Which was to say: not at all.
Spinning the weapon while waving around the torch, Mel sliced off a clawing hand as it tried to slash her wrist.
Just like before, the monster’s limb fell to the ground and broke apart, slithering back to its master.
This time, Mel stepped forward with the torch leading. It burned angrily in her hand, forcing the creature back. Once she had enough space, Mel dropped to one knee and touched the flames to the wisp of magical mist on the floor.
The monster wailed in pain and rage, clutching at its stump.
“So that’s how I do it,” she said to herself, catching on.
Unfortunately, the monster wouldn’t go down without a fight. Every time Mel lopped off a piece of itself, it grew faster and more ferocious than before.
Her coat proved its worth by absorbing the worst of the blows, but her unprotected face wasn’t so lucky. Mel couldn’t shake the feeling that she used to be faster, stronger. She kept performing moves that needed more skill and agility than she possessed. She was too slow and awkward.
Most of her wounds were from ill-advised attacks that she instantly knew were wrong the moment she committed to them.
With one eye forced shut, her left cheek burning with bleeding claw marks, Mel took a page from the monster’s book. The more her wounds piled up, the more she let loose.
She slashed out with her twinblade, twisted on the balls of her feet, and then swiped with the torch to force the creature back at the last moment.
Swinging her twinblade up, she severed the creature’s arm at the elbow and torched the mist that pooled on the floor.
That was the last straw for the creature. It lunged at her, opening a misty mouth filled with needle point teeth. Mel countered with a scream of defiance and thrust the torch into its face.
The creature lashed out with its stumps for a few moments before the torch did its dreadful work and burned away its head. The misty body broke apart instantly, falling to the ground in heavy smoky threads.
You defeat the [Tombkeeper Mistwraith (Mundane Rank)].
You gain extra runes of experience for slaying a Boss monster.
You gain extra Battle Points for slaying a Boss monster.
You unlock The Emporium.
Streams of colorful runes flew through the air like ribbons of light. Mel slashed at them with her twinblade, fearing another attack, but the moment they touched her they disappeared.
She felt stronger as the runes flowed into her.
Mel staggered over to the side, resting her shoulder on a nearby pillar. She hadn’t expected the creature to fight so viciously. Her wounds burned like fire, and the cut above her eye wouldn’t stop bleeding.
“At least it’s over,” she said to the empty room.
After a few moments to catch her breath, and for the bleeding above her brow to slow to a trickle, Mel limped to the puddle of mist.
She kicked it for good measure, pleased when it didn’t dissipate entirely. It had an unsettlingly wet, meaty feel to it. Like she was kicking a pile of soggy laundry.
“Gross, but satisfying.”
Would you like to loot the [Tombkeeper Mistwraith (Mundane Rank)]?
Mel tilted her head curiously. “Sure.”
Her silver ring gave off a faint buzzing sensation as streamers of multi-colored light flowed from the remains of the monster into her ring.
(5) [Mist Coins] have been stored in your inventory.
(1) [Ghostflame Lantern] has been stored in your inventory.
Mel limped over to the other end of the room, hoping and praying to feel the warmth of sunlight on her skin. She could look at her loot once she was free of this dreadful place.
With bloodied palms pressed to the splintery wooden doors, Mel heaved with all of her strength. The doors creaked open slowly, breathing cold dry air over her body and forcing her to shut her eyes against the grit of dust.
When Mel opened her eyes, her heart sank.
She was still deep underground. Ahead, a narrow bridge crossed a black gorge. On the other side was an unnaturally wide sloping path that ran up and out of sight.
The quest she received hammered the point home with callous brutality.
New Quest: Tales from the Crypt
You were mysteriously buried at the bottom of a Hero’s Tomb filled with Mist monsters. Find a way to escape before this place truly becomes your grave.
Objective: Defeat or sneak past every monster on your way to freedom.
Reward: [Aspect Gem (Rare)]
Additional Objective: Defeat every monster within this Hero’s Tomb.
Reward: Bonus runes of experience.
Mel leaned against the door marked with her bloodied handprint and heaved a sigh. “Son of a bitch.”