A sharp tap on my shoulder pulls me from my daze.
Vorondil.
The sheath of his blade nudges me again, a silent prompt to continue.
I’m panting, sweat dripping down my back, my robe clinging to me in places.
Meanwhile, Vorondil doesn’t have a single drop of sweat on him.
I grit my teeth.
With a burst of energy, I lunge forward, swinging my bone club in a wide arc at his head.
He parries it effortlessly.
The impact wrenches my weapon from my hands and, before I can recover, Vorondil shifts his weight—using my own momentum against me.
I hit the ground hard, skidding onto my side.
Fog swirls above me.
I lie still, staring up at it, trying to catch my breath.
A moment later, Vorondil reattaches his sheath to his hip and offers me a hand.
I take it, grateful, as he pulls me back to my feet.
Just then, Drazuul stomps out of the fog.
His molten eyes sweep over me, then Vorondil. He lets out a chuffing breath, shaking his head.
"I couldn’t find any more in the immediate area."
His gaze lingers on me.
"And it looks like you’re ready for a break."
A deep, rumbling chuckle escapes his throat.
"The blade of Vorondil is merciless, isn’t it?"
I manage a weak nod.
Vorondil’s eyes narrow slightly as he glances between us. He crosses his arms but remains silent.
Beep.
I stare at the silver screen.
Too tired to be excited.
Even though my bruises are fading and the ache in my muscles is already receding, there’s a pulse in the back of my skull.
A feeling of pressure, like my head is about to pop.
Too full.
Drazuul lets out a massive yawn, a wave of heat pushing back the fog for just a moment.
"It’s been a long time since I’ve worked this hard," he rumbles.
"We should all get some rest before we continue."
He glances at Vorondil.
"Or at least, the two of us should."
Drazuul scoffs, smirking.
"I don’t think he gets tired."
Vorondil’s mouth twitches slightly, a flicker of annoyance crossing his otherwise impassive face.
I don’t think he likes it when we talk about him.
I let out a soft chuckle—but the sound dies in my throat as he suddenly bends down, picks up my bone club, and turns to me.
He holds it out, offering it back.
I stare at it in horror.
I shake my head vigorously, stepping back.
His mouth cracks into a wide smile.
And for the first time, I hear him laugh.
It’s melodic yet sinister, a sound that sends a shiver down my spine.
But—despite its eerie tone—the look on his face is anything but malicious.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
A glint of genuine joy lights his green eyes.
Drazuul flinches back at the sound.
"That’s... new," he mutters, shifting uncomfortably.
Vorondil’s smile vanishes instantly. His gaze snaps to Drazuul, and he sneers.
I swallow thickly and tentatively take the bone from his outstretched hand.
He raises a hand in a disarming gesture, as if to say relax.
I do—if only slightly.
Then, without a word, he motions to the scattered piles of flesh.
His teeth click audibly as he bites at an imaginary piece of meat.
I freeze.
"That’s a great idea!" Drazuul rumbles, amused.
"I was in the middle of a meal before this." His burning gaze sweeps over the carnage.
"There should be enough here for all of us." A deep chuckle rumbles in his throat.
My stomach growls loudly, rivaling Drazuul’s voice.
I hate to admit it, but—after everything—I can already imagine the taste.
The muddy, burnt texture. The raw, gamey flesh.
I swallow hard. My mouth watering.
Vorondil is already sorting through the remains, gathering the more intact cuts.
I move toward the bodies, dragging a few toward him to help.
He nods in approval and continues his methodical butchering.
Drazuul, meanwhile, simply scoops an entire pile into his mouth, chewing twice before swallowing it whole.
Bone and all.
The sickening crunch reverberates through the air.
He scoops another heap of flesh but pauses to inspect it carefully, picking out a piece before tossing it aside.
The rest?
It disappears down his throat seconds later.
Vorondil finishes his selection and starts picking up a few choice pieces for himself.
I do the same, grabbing a few relatively clean cuts before following him back toward his building.
Vorondil sets the meat on the table and strides toward the fireplace.
I place my haul alongside his before turning back to watch him work.
A small fire already flickers in the hearth.
He's efficient.
I shudder slightly, the memory of our training still fresh in my mind.
Without missing a beat, Vorondil pulls out a set of skewers and walks back to the table. He pauses for a moment, then silently hands me a handful.
I blink in surprise.
I nod in thanks, a slight smile creeping onto my face.
Without a word, he begins threading the meat onto the skewers.
Each motion is precise, practiced—effortless.
He spears four or five pieces at a time with ease.
I try to mimic his movements but struggle to skewer even one piece without dropping the meat.
I grimace but keep at it, determined not to fall too far behind.
We work in silence for a few minutes.
It’s... pleasant.
Once finished, Vorondil gathers the skewers and carries them to the fireplace.
He places two directly above the fire and the rest on a higher rack.
I assume those will cook slower.
I exhale, finally relaxing, and take a seat by the door.
The fire crackles softly, filling the room with the rich, smoky scent of roasting meat.
A beep.
The silver screen blinks into view.
I lean my head back against the wall, exhaling through my nose.
Might as well see how much stronger I’ve become.
CLASS: ERROR [14,896/18,005]
TIER [1]
LEVEL [8]
AVAILABLE STAT POINTS [32]
AVAILABLE ACTIVE SKILLS [1]
MAX HP [40]
MAX STAMINA [160]
STAMINA REGENERATION [0.1]
MAX MANA [2,400]
MANA REGENERATION [4]
STRENGTH [6]+
AGILITY [6]+
ENDURANCE [12]+
INTELLIGENCE [7]+
WILLPOWER [15]+
PERCEPTION [8]+
LUCK [1]
ACTIVE SKILLS [2/10]
TIER 1
MANA GEYSER [16/100]
CAUSES A MAGICAL EXPLOSION USING PURE MANA.
DAMAGE: 1 per MANA USED × SKILL LEVEL [16-38,400]
RANGE: 1ft × SKILL LEVEL [7ft]
COST: 100% CURRENT MANA
MANA SENSE [13/100]
ALLOWS THE USER TO SENSE ALL SOURCES OF MANA WITHIN RANGE.
EFFECT: SENSE MANA UP TO 130FT [10×SKILL LEVEL] AWAY.
COST: UP TO 13 [1×10ft] MANA PER SECOND.
PASSIVE SKILLS [2/10]
TIER 1
MANA VAULT [6/100]: MULTIPLIES MAX MANA BY 1 × SKILL LEVEL. [400×6]
MANA CONVERSION [9/100] WHEN MANA POOL IS FULL COVERTS 9% MANA REGENERATION INTO HP.
I smile widely as I look over my class menu.
Available skills? I hesitate for a moment before tapping the screen. It shifts with a shimmer and a set of three skills appears before me.
MANA BOLT
FIRE A CONDENSED ORB OF MANA FROM THE PALM OF YOUR HAND.
EFFECT: DEAL 7 DAMAGE [(5 × SKILL LEVEL)+(10% INT AND WIL)]
RANGE: 20ft [20+2 PER LEVEL]
COST: 50 MANA
MANA SLASH
EMPOWER YOUR WEAPON WITH MANA, SENDING A BLADE OF MANA FORWARD WHEN SWUNG.
EFFECT: DEAL 10 DAMAGE [(8 × SKILL LEVEL)+(5% STR AND WIL)]
RANGE: 10FT
COST: 80 MANA
MANA SPIKE
FIRE A CONDENSED SPIKE OF MANA FROM THE PALM OF YOUR HAND, PEIRCING ENEMY ARMOR.
EFFECT: DEAL 5 DAMAGE [(4×SKILL LEVEL)+(15% INT AND PER)] AND IGNORE 1% ARMOR (1 × SKILL LEVEL)
RANGE: 10ft [10+1 PER LEVEL]
COST: 120 MANA
I read through each carefully, my grin widening with every word.
They’re all ranged attacks—and more importantly, none of them will kill me when I use them.
That alone is an improvement.
I immediately rule out Mana Slash.
My sparring match with Vorondil was proof enough that I’m better off staying as far away from a blade as possible.
I would’ve died several times over.
That leaves Mana Bolt and Mana Spike.
I consider them.
Mana Bolt has twice the range of Mana Spike.
But Mana Spike can ignore armor… completely at level 100.
Long-term gain vs. immediate survival.
And looking at the scaling, Mana Bolt benefits from Intelligence and Willpower, the two stats my system advised me to focus on.
I exhale through my nose.
Really, there’s only one option.
I tap Mana Bolt.
The screen flickers before fading.
I glance around, waiting for something to happen.
Nothing.
Then, a sharp twinge pinches the back of my mind.
I flinch, but the sensation disappears just as quickly.
I turn my focus to my stat points.
Everything increased across the board while we were training.
I allocate 12 points into Willpower and 20 into Intelligence.
The screen vanishes, and a cooling sensation trickles down my spine—like a gentle waterfall inside my head.
I close my eyes, relaxing into it.
Then—
SPLASH.
Ice-cold water pours over my head.
I jerk upright, sputtering as my eyes snap open.
Vorondil stands over me, jug in one hand, a skewer of meat in the other.
A look of mild concern crosses his face.
He tilts his head slightly, watching my reaction.
I blink up at him, dripping.
For a second, I think it’s the system again.
Then I realize.
I wipe my face, pushing my drenched hair back, sending cold rivulets running down my back.
Vorondil nods, satisfied, and hands me a skewer.
I take it gratefully, giving him a sheepish grin.
He leaves the water jug on the floor beside me and returns to his seat near the fire.
I take a bite of the meat, chewing slowly.
It’s gamey—but delicious.