Chapter Five

Traveling through the woods sucks. Probably why Alice and I never hiked much. Ambrose thought as he trekked through the evil looking nightmare forest. It would be better if he at least knew where he was going. At this point he just stumbling a long and hoping he found this heart Misaq had mentioned.

As he walked, he interacted with Noelle. The warm presence didn't really speak. She would occasionally send images of the forest around them, or “play” with his thoughts by darting away from his mind whenever he reached out.

She's like a kitten. That was the feeling he got anyway. He hadn't manifested her yet, mostly because he didn't feel this was the right place for it.

Ambrose also practised. His [Mana Infusion] skill responded pretty well to his thoughts but Ambrose was curious as to where the mana actually came from. The System description of his class told him his mana was unlocked through his conviction. That implies it was always there. Which meant his mana was a part of him.

I'm not a big fan of meditation. Nonetheless Ambrose took the time to stop by a great, slightly less threatening tree, and do a thorough search of the area for any threats. Somewhat satisfied, he settled down and closed his eyes, focusing his thoughts inward.

He cast his thoughts adrift on the sea of his awareness, down, down, every muscle releasing tension, his breaths a soothing balm on his mind and body, smoothing away all thought.

His thoughts bumped into something just above his navel. Threads of clear blue interwoven together like a ball of yarn, no larger than an apple, was settled there. He could see it within his thoughts, his minds eye revealing it to him as if it were under a mental microscope.

Experimenting, Ambrose activated [Mana Infusion] and some of the clear blue threads arched outward, as if being pulled by a needle. Through his arm, and hand, the threads sank into the axe he held, swirling, sharpening and pulsing, the threads of blue infused the axe with power.

And if I… Yes. Dismissing the skill caused the threads to vanish from the axe. However, they did not return to the ball of light. Ambrose turned his lips downward, drawing his brows together.

It's smaller. Like someone took a small nibble of the apple. He waited for a time, but the ball of light did not grow back to its original size.

Ambrose flicked his eyes open and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his forefinger, chewing on his tongue. That's what my mana looks like. When I use it, a part of it vanishes. How do I replenish it? Level up?

Ambrose nodded firmly, recalling to his mind the feelings of euphoria after a level up. He would confirm it later, of course. For a while, Ambrose messed around with the mana. He probed it with thoughts, trying to pull on it with his will.

The mana refused to go down any path he tried to lead it down. The only time it had done what it was supposed to do was with the skill. Maybe skills are like a path? Ambrose figured that was as good an answer as he was going to get for now.

With nothing else to do, Ambrose began walking again.

It wasn't long before he found trouble. A ways ahead of him, was a small clearing. In that clearing was a camp, and not a pleasant one. Ambrose's eyes darted around at the black cages formed of dark roots that held people within them.

People with terrified faces. People covered in grime, their stink wafting up into the air, carried on the breeze to mix with the already putrid scent of the forest.

His eyes locked on the scared face of a little black haired girl with a grimy blue dress, glued to her father's side. Her terrified brown eyes stared at the horrific creatures that surrounded them.

Ambrose had ducked behind a looming tree the moment he had seen the encampment. Now he moved his head just outward to analyze one of the creatures.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

[Cursed Root Knight-Level 25]

Well, the name fits. Ambrose mused. The creatures looked like armor that was formed of dark black and purple roots that writhed like dark worms in squelching mud. They stood around a bald headed man in robes that reminded Ambrose of tree bark. He wielded a gnarled staff made from the same kind of roots the knights seemed to be made of.

The staff, too, writhed like a living thing, looking slimy and moist Ambrose used [Insight] on the man.

[???]

Huh. The man was holding up a dagger in his other hand, the blade was a dark, insidious green with a light crystal inlaid in the pommel. The crystal had a beautiful sapphire blue light that swirled within it.

He gestured and one of the root knights held out a dark hand towards a woman in a cage not far away from him. The hand extended forward like a striking snake, the cage made of roots parting around it like liquid, and the hand snatched up the woman who began to scream a horrifying scream. Ambrose winced, gripping his axe tighter in his hands.

The woman was openly sobbing now, her blonde hair matted, black dirt falling from it like flecks of flicked grime. Her hazel eyes exuded pure terror as she began to beg the bald man.

He brought the knife upward.

This is stupid. Ambrose said as he stepped from behind the tree and flung his [Mana Infused] axe at the bald man. Ambrose couldn't be sure if the man sense the mana somehow, or perhaps the root knights could see despite having no eyes that he could make out, but one of the knights flowed into the pathway of the axe, the blade cutting into it

If the creature felt pain, it didn't show it. Now the axe is stuck. Ambrose lemented to himself. The roots that formed the monster had flowed around the axe, holding it fast.

The man, who had been regarding the woman held in the grips of the cursed root knight before him, flicked his gaze over at Ambrose. His eyes were the precise color of dung on a hill.

He tugged his thin lips downward and gestured with his staff. Several of the root knights began to stalk toward Ambrose, raising their hands, which began to shift into deadly blades that shot toward him with sickening speed.

Ambrose's mind slowed, a memory playing across the screen of his minds eye.

“What do you do if you have no weapon, boy?” Raylen asked, having disarmed Ambrose of the knife he held.

Ambrose, now nine years old, answered by attacking his father with a tight fist aimed at his side. His father blocked the strike at the same time stepping in and sweeping his leg with ease. Ambrose fell, and started to roll, but Raylen was too fast, and Ambrose found himself staring at the tip of the knife he once held at his throat, gleaming with dangerous light.

Raylen kept his face blank, controlled as his eyes studied his son.

“That's right. You become the weapon. Just make sure you become a better one than the other guy. Get up.”

The memory faded as quickly as it had come. Before the System Ambrose would have been encumbered by the armor he wore, but Ambrose had stats now, increased stats that made him more than simply human.

He felt the curled strength, agility, power within himself like a coil merely waiting to be released. Ambrose moved like he was wearing a heavy jacket instead of a suit of armor. Dodging between the deadly dark blades, he juked forward, his mind going calm, focused, as he darted toward the man.

As fast as Ambrose was, even as he ducked between the blades cross cutting toward him, he wasn't fast enough to stop the dagger that the man slashed across the woman's throat.

The ruby spray was a torrent, pouring from the woman's throat as if the man had cut a water line open. She gurgled, eyes twitching, face morphing as her body was allowed to collapse to the ground.

Ambrose suppressed the flash of anguish that threatened to overwhelm him. It wouldn’t help and others needed his assistance if they didn't want to meet the same fate.

As another root blade flashed towards him, Ambrose turned sideways, hands flashing outward, he grabbed the part of the extended root that wasn't a blade.

The root jerked and the force of it did cut into his palm, but physical pain was nothing to Ambrose at this point. He twisted the root, jerking it around as he ran, the root snapping like a twig as he did, even with the way it resisted. As Ambrose ran, he now had the root blade pointed at the root knight the blade had belonged to.

He plunged the blade into its chest. The roots writhed, trying to reset itself. This gave Ambrose time to reach up and rip the axe out of its head. The roots resisted, but Ambrose used [Mana Infusion] and the axe surged with power, making it easier for him to finally free the weapon.

Just in time to as he whirled around and deflected the blade shooting toward his back with a clang. Ambrose moved his body around, ready to cleave the bald man down the middle, but roots wrapped around his leg, as silent as a stalking snake, and jerked.

Ambrose fell to the ground, his nose crunching against his axe, blood spurting like a popped water balloon. He flexed his muscles, jerking this way and that, but the dark roots continued to wrap themselves around him.

Ambrose kept fighting even as they wrapped around his throat, and face. He tried to breath, his chest constricting, lungs burning.

Blackness was the last thing he saw before he passed out.