I pull away from the half embrace Michael and I were engaged in. More mercenaries are running around us, and I'm pushed back by a sharp-faced man in a dark red coat.
"What are his injuries?"
Michael's eyes are shut, a look of pleasure over his face. But they snap open and his expression shifts quickly as he answers the question himself.
"Badly bruised throat, a narrow stab wound through my right thigh, and a deep wound in my stomach. Both have been stopped from bleeding."
The medic puts a hand on each wound and mutters a foreign word under his breath. Michael winces in pain, but then his tensed muscles relax in relief.
"You should be good to fight. Do you have a blessed sword?"
Michael stands up, slightly stooped, and looks sadly to the nearby remains of his sword.
"No. But I can manage with any."
I took the moment of reverence to squeeze Michaels hand. He looks thankfully at me, but I break off and run to pick up the swords that I threw.
My own sword is still pristine, slightly covered in cracked pieces of black bone.
I kick the black material the Wraith Lord was cloaked in, knocking fragments of ebony bone loose. It looks like all it was, was just another skeleton with a greater hold of Magic. Dark magic.
The bone fragments give me a bad feeling, so I retrieve my sword and sheathe it carefully.
I just about to look for the deflected sword I got from... Michaels recently deceased friend when a green glint draws me back to the pile of bones.
The green and yellow lights I saw under the hood turn out to be crystalline spheres. The yellow one is little more than dust, as I hit it directly, but the green one is intact and shining.
I pick it up and pocket it. While it may be a bad idea to take the eye of something that slaughtered at least a dozen mercenaries effortlessly, I figure I can deal with whatever it can throw at me. However malicious this crystal might be.
I hunt around more, looking for the black sword the Wraith wielded that seemed to be stronger than the average mercenaries sword. Unfortunately, it's nowhere to be found and I can only assume it dissolved into the ground like the shadows that it was animating with its magic.
"Ventra."
I turn quickly, expecting for us to already be under threat again, but it's just Michael.
He's holding a sword quite different from the norm. It's almost like a rapier, but just shorter than the claymores are. So, much longer than a rapier should be. Its also engraved with bright red runes and shapes that give it more of a physical presence. A temporary weapon from the medic. It wouldn't pack the same punch as the claymore, but it's an effective weapon nonetheless.
I look at it longingly, envious that Michael is wielding my chosen weapon. Almost.
But I realise he needs it more than me, and he even explains that each of the tanks who had been defending us before used swords blessed by Meli, the God of the mind. Michaels mind stat was too low to take advantage of a sword like that, so every sword discarded around us is useless for him.
"So where do we go now?"
He points in the direction we had been marching in initially.
In the time we were inside the mist, the mercenary divisions deployed had pushed back the undead far enough that we were surprisingly far from the actual fight.
"We're barely an hour into our shift. In maybe another hour or so, we'll be recalled for a break and another few divisions will take our place."
I nod, unsure of the tactics being employed. I have no real knowledge of the statistics behind the fight, and as I have the reputation of a newbie fighter, I doubt I'll have access to that kind of info.
As we start towards the new frontlines in the distance, working our way through the grassland covered in bones and dust, I hear someone yelling my name. Only three living people know my name, and since I doubt the field is the place for a surgeon, I can guess who it is immediately.
Mary catches up with us in seconds, her tall frame and long legs launching her across the ground surprisingly quickly.
"Ventra. A messenger tells me there was an Undead Thrall and even a Wraith Lord here. I came to deal with it personally, but it looks like it's already done. And Medic Anders even tells me it was you who did it."
I'm stuck open-mouthed, still shocked at Mary's Olympic level sprint. Her gaze passes to Michael who is equally awestruck and addresses him directly.
"Mercenary, I have something to discuss with her in private. You are dismissed."
"Yes, ma'am."
He nods to her and runs off towards the sounds of fighting. He looks back fleetingly and we make eye contact for an instant, but then he's gone.
"Ventra. This is important, please ensure you're paying attention."
I gulp, nodding furiously.
"You were able to kill two creatures of a danger rank above three. You might not remember what that means, but for the love of Alo, even I would have struggled with both."
She pauses to take a breath, and I wait patiently for her point. She seems mixed between surprised and frustrated.
"We've had far too many recruits recently for me to find your recruitment paperwork. I just don't have time with the hoards at our doorstep. All I'm asking of you is, to be honest with me."
I instantly launch into an internal debate about how honest with her I should be. I'll tell her my stats. I'll even show her my wings. But as sympathetic as she seems, I'm not sure I should drop the figurative bomb of my origins on her.
"What do you want to know?"
I look over my shoulder, trying to spot Michael in the far line of black coats and white skeletons. Mary draws my attention back to her with a heavy yet gentle hand on my shoulder.
"Do you really not have any memories?"
I shake my head, expertly pulling off a wry smile.
"I'm sorry. I just remember flashes of the fight while injured. Then... The taste of a health tonic. Then waking up yesterday."
She nods, she seems upset that my fake past is still hidden to her, but at least she accepts my amnesia story.
"Ok... that's ok. Now, what are your stats? All three please."
I pause and open my status to the amused eyes of Mary. She must think I've just forgotten the numbers, but I quickly explain that I levelled up from the Wraith Lord fight, and wanted to sort my stats.
You have 6 unallocated stat points: Body (+)
Mind (+)
Soul (+)
All six points go into body. I don't feel any different, but such an increase can only do good things.
Name:
Ventra Cass (The Cause) Hp: 210/210 (6.14%) Species:
Human (Immortal) Mp: 930/930 (6.14%) Level:
6 (26%) Class:
(none) Body: 21 (+) Mind: 158 Soul: 613 Perks:
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-Mana:
• [1] Big spells
• [2] Bigger spells
• [3] Soulful spells
• [3] Mana manipulation
• [4] Shapeless Magic
• [4] Hard Mind
-Soul:
• [1] Moulded Soul
• [2] Hunter Soul
• [3] Neutral Soul
• [4] Soul of Magic
• [5] Strong Soul
• [5] Monstrous Soul
• [6] Hidden Soul
• [7] Powerful Soul
• [7] Surviving Soul
• [8] Alien Soul
• [9] Soul of the Fool
• [10] Wings Skills:
(none) Spells:
• Hard
• Sharp
I read out my stats to Mary, her confused expression shifting to anger then surprise then back to confused.
"That makes no sense..."
She mumbles under her breath, and I brace myself for her reaction.
"Ventra, do you have any recollection of being a monk?"
I open my mouth to deny immediately, but then I pause, considering this new approach I've been handed.
I'm about to ramble some bullshit about having a meditation skill when Mary cuts me off.
"No, it doesn't matter. Don't worry about it if you can't remember. But... wait, if your soul stat is above 500, do you have... you know?"
I do know.
I pull back from her grip and take off my trench coat. I hold it over one arm, focusing on moving my new wings with as much grace as possible. Which isn't a whole lot.
In a few jerky, uneven motions, I extend and stretch my wings, the golden sheen of the feathers still obvious despite a cloud bank blocking the best of the light.
"But there was nothing like this from Surgeon Lich..."
I somewhat apologetically look up, somehow exposing my wings like this is embarrassing.
"I only chose to get the wings today. The perk was always available."
It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the complete truth. I didn't feel as guilty about this.
"Huh... well... we need to talk about this later, but for now, finish your fight. At the lunch break, come back to base and come to my office."
I nod, and she nods back, satisfied with our discussion. She turns back and starts to speed up, extending her pace and step at a remarkable pace.
A sudden thought crosses my mind and I call out after Mary.
"Where is your office?!"
She stops and turns, likely irritated that I can't remember where her office is. Even though I've only been there once.
"BRING THAT YOUNG MAN WITH YOU IF YOU WANT. MAKE SURE HE LIVES!"
She turns on her heel and thunders away. I briefly imagine how she must be in combat. If even she claims to struggle with the monsters I wiped out, maybe she can't utilise the energy of the swords in the same way as me, but her body stat must still be pretty high.
Because I'll be honest, luck was on my side when I was fighting. I have no idea how to use the special effects of my sword other than to swing as hard as I can. And everything I did was based off fear and impulse. I need to figure out how to fight properly using these stats to my advantage, otherwise, I'll die when I face up against something as strong as the Wraith Lord again.
I don't want this body to die. I've got a good thing going right now, and I'm not keen on finding out what happens to my stats when I die.
----------------------------------------
I lose myself in fighting. Michael and I watch each other's backs as we fight, somewhat awkwardly at first. The skeletons are a slow force, an unbelievably strong and rapidly expanding one, but slow nonetheless. Though I am still putting in the effort to stab and swing with intent, since I'm not putting all my effort into each strike, the golden effects aren't appearing. Buts that's more than fine. My rhythm of stabbing and slashing is blissfully slow compared to the quick panic of before. Michael seems to be fighting with ease, so much so that he concerns himself with how I'm doing rather than focusing on his own sword.
He advises me as I go, to keep my movements conservative. The equipment we're given might neutralise the effects of exhaustion, but it would only go so far. My arms ache almost constantly, and I keep having to take short breaks, due in which Michael would let me fall back and he would double his efforts.
In the hour or so I'm fighting at the front lines, which feels like only a few minutes, I kill more skeletons than I can count. The experience I gain from killing one is always in the single digits. Michael says it's due to the lack of risk we put in by fighting them.
But I still manage to level up four more times from the sheer number I crush. Each point goes straight into body when I next take a break, bringing my total stat up to 25. I hold back from selecting the perks that wait for me. After seeing what they are, I should consider what I get carefully.
I regret choosing the wings in the middle of the mist. I ran out with far more bravado than I had any right to feel. I was scared and in a moment of panic, believed that suddenly getting two more limbs would help me. In reality, they are a manageable hindrance to my movement. Luckily, I don't have to move around too much, so keeping the wings close to my butt and thighs under my coat is an acceptable way to hide them.
All I can think about is how much I hate the fact I wasn't given a day to train or practice before I was thrown straight into the fight.
----------------------------------------
The break is announced by a shrill whistle echoing across the grass plains.
Immediately, the thinned line of mercenaries separates from the enemy line and runs back towards the treeline which is little more than a darker green line on the horizon.
I can make out another line of black-suited individuals running towards us.
The relief divisions.
Already running close behind Michael, I sheathe my sword and try to dodge arrows that are beginning to rain around us.
All I manage to achieve is a few bruises on my back, legs, and worst of all, wings.
But none of them causes my health to decrease. I imagine it's because even if I were to get 250 similar bruises on my body, I probably wouldn't die.
We rest in the woods, in a hastily cleared area, using tree stumps as tables and logs as benches. I'm no expert on tree felling, but it looks like the trees were cleanly sliced near the base, most likely by someone with an insanely high body stat.
Michael went ahead of me as we ran, and once I've finished pointlessly admiring the woodcutting, I scour the clearing for him.
He's sitting with a group of young fighters. None look into their twenties yet. And all of them are girls. Attractive ones too.
For a moment, my inner possessiveness and lust battle it out and I try to figure out if I want to join or disrupt this little group. As I'm doing this, one of the girls, a skinny blonde thing, laughs through a mouthful of food and puts her hand on Michaels' leg.
I don't see how he reacts because my chest has already erupted into heat. I want to challenge this girl and I want to win.
But I'm beyond that. Just because I'm in a new world doesn't mean my sensible side cultivated over millennia will be pushed down.
So while no blood will be spilt by me, I need to... assert my dominance.
Doing my best to appear effortlessly seductive, I lay my hands on his shoulders while standing over him, and slowly run them down his arms, lowering my head closer to his as I do so.
"Hey, Michael. I've been looking for you."
He looks up at me, a sweet smile on his face. He appears mildly surprised too. But not guilty.
The fight leaves me. Instantly, I know he's innocent here.
"Hi, Ventra. Sorry I ditched you."
From under his coat, he hands me a thin wooden box. It's the same one that I've seen everyone else eating out of.
"I wanted to make sure you got one of the better boxes. This one has meat in it. But... I ran into Elle here. She's an old friend from division nineteen."
I give Elle a small but somewhat genuine smile and a nod. If she's a friend of Michaels, I can tolerate her. I'm not always the jealous kind, but Elle has eyes of such bright, captivating blue that even I find myself drawn to her.
Suddenly remembering that I hate her, I take the box from Michael with a smile and address him directly.
"Second Lieutenant Scott has asked to meet with me during the lunch break. She said if I needed a guide back to bring you. So, can we go?"
Michael scrambles to his feet and practically drags me away from the group. I stumble at first, unprepared for the speed at which he seems to want to get away.
He waves over his shoulder at the girls, and all of them but Elle wave back. She just looks... sad.
I ignore her though and speed up so Michael doesn't have to drag me. We've already left the clearing and are heading through the sparse woods in the direction I assume the base is.
"Hey. Michael. Slow down. Why are you rushing?"
He doesn't turn, but keeps his pace, speaking as he paces forwards.
"Second Lieutenant Scott isn't to be kept waiting. If she wants to see you during the lunch break, then you have less than an hour to get back to her office. At best, forty-five minutes."
I grab his shoulder and force him to stop.
"Wait. There was no sense of urgency in the meeting. It's not official I think. I think she just wants to talk about me."
He looks torn between my logic and his own duty.
"Fine. If you're sure, I can't argue. Madame Scott is a weird one anyway."
He finishes with a smile, and I laugh lightly at his comment. Mary certainly was quite weird for someone in a position of militaristic power. She was someone I expected to see leading a charge from the front rather than the rear.
He leads me back to the base, and I get to see it properly for the first time. The first time I came here, I was unconscious, and when I left, I was distracted.
The so-called base for the group of mercenaries I've found myself a part of is an incredibly large one-storey building made of black stone bricks. It appears blocky but well made, and I can make out three large metal doors where stuff must come in and out of the base. Though it's surrounded by woods, I can see worn tracks leading in many directions away from the black walls that stretch in every direction.
Michael stops briefly to admire the sheer size of it and I stop too, my mind filling with questions.
"Are there no defences? And how did Quartermaster Deans warehouse fit in there? And why aren't there any windows? There's like three doors on this side alone, and they don't look defended at all. What's up with that?"
Michael laughs at my barrage of questions. Up until then, we had been in a comfortable silence. I was slowly recovering from the physical exertment of the fighting, and I think he was still grieving losing his sword. The mercenaries here seem to believe that the sword and wielded become partners of a sort. And Michaels had been killed. But he's smiling now. It's a definite improvement.
"Um, from the beginning, there's actually a load of defences, they're just all hidden. Dean can for his warehouse in here in the same way he fits his office and armour in the crates. Illusion and transmutation magic. As for the windows, glass and wood are all too easy to break into if we ever do go under siege. So no windows."
"Huh."
"I prefer it like this, you know? You were quiet on the way back, and I thought something was up."
I smile at him and he meets my look.
"I'm fine. It's just been kinda hectic, you know? In the space of a day, we both nearly die. I guess... mentally at least, I'm tired."
"Well if we're back at the base now, we won't have to go out again unless there's a crisis. You can probably take it easy for the rest of the day."
Hoping his words are true, I let him lead me inside.