Two eyes kept staring at one word. Slavemancer, a word that did not carry a positive vibe. Hell, the word slave itself was the main problem here. Like pyro for a pyromancer. Like cyro to a cyromancer, and necro like for a necromancer. From the obvious, it had to be related to controlling slaves. But the question was, whether he controlled these slaves like puppets or was it something else entirely.

‘In the morning I rescued slaves, and in the afternoon I became a slave owner. How ironic, isn’t it?’ Rohan thought.

[Status unlocked.]

[Skills and spells unlocked.]

[Class bonus stat distributed; Arcane +5. Charisma +5]

[Rohan Prynne][Lv.0]

[Race: Human]

[Class: Slavemancer]

[HP: 18/20]

[EP: 10/10]

[MP: 10/10]

[Strength: 4]

[Endurance: 5]

[Defense: 1]

[Dexterity: 5]

[Arcane: 5]

[Willpower: 4]

[Perception: 5]

[Charisma: 12]

[Points available: 0]

Looking through his stats, he was quite impressed over his numeration depiction. ‘If I minus the bonus stats, my charisma is still the highest. And that’s quite a surprise,’ Rohan thought. The young man never thought of himself as a charismatic person, and perhaps living as a son of noble did have an effect on him.

“Young lord,” Simon called, coming from behind. “I can’t.”

Rohan narrowed his eyes. “You can’t what, Simon?” he asked.

“I am a knight and I take pride in being one,” Simon said. “And I can’t choose being called something lower than a knight.”

“You mean a warrior?” Rohan asked back.

“A word like that feat only for peasants and the likes of those who could never be a knight,” Simon said. “I shall abstain from choosing, and I won’t let this sorcery get through my knight’s heart. And I’ll advise you to do the same, young lord . . . Since your books won’t have all the answers.”

Rohan frowned. This accompanying knight was really getting under his skin. Now of all time was not the place to be this thick-headed. Rather than saying something he clicked his tongue and turned to the ex-slaves.

“What do you choose?”

“A warrior,” Herakles answered. A suitable class for someone of his built. Tall with broad shoulders, fitting with his name.

“And you?” Rohan turned to the other ex-slave.

“It’s rude of me to choose this. But I can’t let this chance slip by,” there was solemn in his voice, and yet, the corner of his lips slightly curved upwards. “I am a cleric, milord, and I’ll do my best to be like the angels.”

“Okayy,” Rohan dragged his voice a bit. As the cleric didn’t seem like the normal type. But in his mind, at least now all of them had a chance of getting out of here alive with a vanguard and support. After all with that shit class he had, he doubted he would be useful.

He willed through his thought and another set of windows opened.

[Mark of Thraldom][Lv.Max]

[Amplify][Lv.1]

Focusing a bit more, the text window changed to a more specific description.

[Mark of Thraldom][Lv.Max]

[Binds a person soul, body, and mind. Those who have the mark can never disobey the words of the mancer.]

[Cost: 1 MP and 1 HP]

[Amplify][Lv.1]

[Enhance stats of those under the user by 50%.]

[Duration: 15 minutes]

[Cost: 1 MP]

His eyes bulged seeing the effect of Amplify. ‘Fifty percent? Isn’t that a bit too much?’ he asked himself. Yet, after careful thought, a fifty percent increment wasn’t enough to outshine losing one’s freedom. It dawned on him and the momentary sweet taste lost all of its sweetness.

Then his eyes fell upon the description of Mark of Thraldom. It was a true blue heinous skill, and he regretted rolling the dice. For once, Lady Luck wasn’t by his side and perhaps Queen Misfortune had a hand in his bad roll.

Rohan sighed. “What’s done is done. And I doubt I can change my class, so I’m better off trying to adapt with what I have.”

“Tell me about your skills,” Rohan inquired.

At first, they were clueless. But after a much-needed explanation on how to access the skill window from Rohan, the two ex-slaves couldn’t hide their surprise. It took them a while to get over their fascination and in return, Rohan got to know the arsenal packed by both of these two. They were the same as him as they also had a set of two skills.

“Young lord,” Simon called. He unsheathed his blade and stood on guard. “Ready your sword, shadows are moving between the trees.”

The young man’s eyes darted across the forest. It would be foolish of him if he ignored the words of a veteran knight. His head didn’t stop moving from left to right, searching the unseen enemy told by Simon. Rohan’s heart was jumping as this first encounter with a possible monster was making him restless. “Are you sure, Simon?” he couldn’t see what the knight saw and he had to ask.

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“I’m old, but I’m not blind, young lord,” Simon said. “These eyes of mine can even spot a buck half a mile even in a dense forest. And Lord Dunmer never left the forest without a bountiful hunt.”

Rohan chuckled. This father’s knight of his really knew how to put himself on a pedestal. But at least it made his annoyance greater than his anxiousness over the situation.

Simon trod further with careful steps. His sword hoisted upwards, readied to slay. Dried leaves and broken branches snapped underneath the sole of his grieves even with his utmost attempt in trying to be stealthy.

Rohan and the rest followed from behind. The young lord drew the loaned blade from his waist as he got readied for whatever was about to come. The sword he held was the standard knight’s sword given during their inauguration of being knighted. The griffin emblem rested in the center of the cross-guard was a testament to which noble family did the knight serve. Herakles and the cleric stayed close right behind Rohan as they unknowingly covered the rear.

For the last couple of minutes, Rohan tried to see whether he could spot anything within this forest. But no matter how hard he tried, nothing came to view. “You sure about this, Simon?” Rohan whispered from afar.

“Shhh,” Simon shushed the young lord slowly as his eyes focused on a particular tree. His feet brought him closer as he got ready to deal with whatever lurked behind this pine tree.

Rohan did not like being shushed at. But he understood why Simon did it. He kept his eyes at the back of the tedious knight and by surprise, Simon charged at the tree and made a quick turn to ambush whatever hid behind the pine tree. His sword cut down swiftly and Rohan saw something run from the other side. It took its chance and fled from being killed by a proud knight. And Rohan saw what it was, and one corner of his lips curved upward.

“A rabbit, Simon?” Rohan asked with a teasing smirk.

The knight stayed quiet with a strong gaze coming from those eyes of his. He sheathed back his sword and said, “it’s better to be careful than letting your guard—”

Everything went silent.

An arrow struck Simon. It came out of nowhere and hit Simon right at the exposed flank when he sheathed his sword. Simon felt his strength leaving his legs as his knees buckled to the ground.

Rohan turned to where the arrow might come from as his lips parted quickly. “Take cover!” his voice rang as his feet brought him closer to Simon. His hands gripped Simon by the armor and dragged him back behind a tree. He leaned Simon over the tree trunk and watched as Simon’s tunic became bloodier at where the arrow hit. It was an accurate shot right at the weak spot of plate armor.

He grimaced over the sight. Then he noticed the arrow fletcher was crudely made as even the shaft was far from being straight. He could see the amateurish craftsman from a single glace.

“Leave me, young lord,” Simon said. His hand grasped Rohan by the shoulder. The knight’s eyes were still strong even after an arrowhead pierced through his flesh. “I’ll hold them down as you retreat.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Simon,” Rohan said. “I won’t leave you here.” Despite the constant annoyance from the knight, it wasn’t a reason to leave Simon behind.

“Listen to me, Simon,” Rohan said, grabbing Simon by the head. “You are not going to die here, and I’m going make sure that annoying ass of yours returns back to my old man.”

Simon listened. Then his lips parted to a smile. “You’ve grown, young lord,” Simon said. “I’ve never knew you have that kind of face.”

“For fuck sake, Simon, stop spouting death flags and listen to me,” Rohan said. “Choose cleric as your class and use Small Heal to heal your wound. And don’t ask me how since you’ll know after you choose it.”

Simon did not answer. The smile was gone from his face as he stared at Rohan’s eyes with the pride of being knight apparent behind those brown eyes of his. Then he shook his head. “I can’t do that . . . As a knight of Prynne . . . I cannot do what you said.”

“Fuck!” Rohan shouted. He clenched his jaw as he tried his best to restrain the anger welling in his heart. This knight was still stuck in that mindset even with death knocking at the door. And to make it worse, the rustling leaves and snapping twigs that were becoming louder was not a good sign. Rohan peeked at the side of the tree and immediately he pulled himself back. A stinging pain came from his left cheek as something fast brushed against him. He looked at the ground behind him and saw an arrow jutting on the ground. A throe of curse words flourished in his thought as that was a close one.

“Go, young lord,” said Simon. “I said go!”

Simon was adamant about making this place his last place of valor and glory. But Rohan wasn’t going to play along.

“Cleric, come over here!” his voice pierced through the silent air of the forest. And two feet came rushing at where he was. A few arrows went flying and yet it missed the ignorant cleric.

“I’m here, milord,” said the cleric.

Rohan grabbed him by his shabby tunic and dragged him out from the enemy’s possible line of sight. He placed the cleric in between him and Simon and they were so close he could smell the obnoxious stench piercing right through his nostril. He frowned, but he put up with it. Staying alive was important than getting revolted.

Rohan grabbed the arrow on Simon’s flank and pulled it with all his strength. It was abrupt and the wound burst into a bloody scene, followed by the painful cry of a knight. Rohan tried to keep Simon still as the knight was twisting in pain as the arrow wound just got a lot worse after what Rohan had done. Blood gushed out like a dam and the cleric stood there in a daze.

“What are you doing?! Use Small Heal on him now!” Rohan said. The young lord snapped the cleric back to reality and the man who loved angels did his job. The cleric touched Simon by the gaping wound as his hand got bloody. The instructions in his head told him to do so and a second later a subtle glow emanated from the cleric’s hand. Slowly, Simon stopped retaliating over the pain as it gradually reduced down to being painless. He watched over what the cleric was doing and was dumbfounded by the so-called sorcery he deemed all of this to be. The knight exchanged a few glances between the cleric and Rohan. He wanted to say something. But then…

Everything went silent. Rohan’s eyes turned wide as he saw the light behind Simon’s eyes turned lifeless. The knight he had known since he was a child went limp right in front of him as an arrow lodged right at the side of Simon’s head.

He glanced to the side and saw a person standing a few yards away from them. He held a bow in his hand and he was as short as a ten-year-old child. The green skin of this creature was not left unnoticed by Rohan as now he knew what they were up against.

‘Goblin,’ Rohan thought.

The goblin drew its bow once more and aimed at the intruder that invaded its land.

Dodge was the only thing that came up in Rohan’s mind and he immediately pushed the cleric to the ground along with himself.

The arrow missed. And Rohan saw what happened. He didn’t know when and how it happened, but Herakles came for the clutch. The man with the big built ambushed the goblin from its blind spot and tackled it to the ground. He made the goblin miss and soon subdued it with the sheer strength of his arms.

But a shadow loomed over Rohan and it wasn’t a good sign. He turned to his back and a short sword cut down at him. His hand moved quickly through pure instinct, and his dagger unsheathed. Steel met iron and the clash rang a high-pitch scream of metals.

Rohan stood his ground as his eyes met with the goblin’s yellow eyes. His hand trembled a bit as he was in a disadvantageous position. But his heart and mind cared less about that as he uttered these words.

“I’m going to kill you…”