“How... how did you break the spell?!” the goblin shaman hissed.
I hadn’t expected it to speak. This was a first for me—confronting a goblin that could actually talk. Was it because this one was a different type? A stronger variant, maybe? Or was it because it was the first time I’d faced a mage-type monster—a creature capable of casting spells or curses?
We were standing face to face, but I couldn’t get a clean strike. Four goblins stood between us, guarding him like loyal pawns.
The shaman’s expression twisted in shock, his curiosity clear. He couldn’t believe I’d broken free from the spell that had clouded my mind. Truth be told, I didn’t know how I’d done it either. That mysterious voice from earlier—it had somehow shattered the shaman’s curse.
“HOW DID YOU BREAK THE CURSE?!” he screamed, his voice trembling with anger. The goblins guarding him glanced nervously at one another, clearly unsettled by their master’s growing rage.
I allowed myself a small, confident smile, staying calm despite the situation. I didn’t bother answering him. Instead, I seized the moment when his focus wavered, lunging forward and striking down two of the goblins in a single swift move.
It was a cheap shot, sure, but I wasn’t in the mood to play fair. I was up against something far more dangerous than the usual grunts.
As expected, the shaman reacted immediately, his hands moving in intricate patterns as he cast a poisonous spell. I dodged just in time, the spell exploding mid-air into a thick, dust-like smoke.
Swishhh!
The remaining goblins didn’t hesitate. While the shaman paused—his spells clearly having some sort of cooldown—they charged at me with reckless aggression.
Eeeeek!
Heeeeeek!
Swossh!
Wishhh!
Quest:
[19/20 Goblins Slayed]
Just one more…
One more goblin, and I could unlock another skill.
It should’ve been easy, but the shaman had fully recovered from his earlier spell. I noticed it took him a full ten seconds to prepare another, and this time, I was caught in it.
An illusion.
Suddenly, five identical shamans surrounded me, circling me from all sides. I couldn’t tell which one was real. I swung my sword wildly at the clones, hoping to strike the actual shaman, but every attempt passed through nothing but air.
Huff.
I was starting to wear myself out.
That’s when it happened—I didn’t even notice the goblin closing in until it was too late. Its sword slashed across my stomach, not deep but enough to send a jolt of sharp pain through me.
I stumbled back, gripping the wound. If I didn’t break out of this illusion soon, I’d be dead.
I forced myself to stay calm. Panicking would only get me killed. Closing my eyes in this situation felt counterintuitive, but something told me I had to try. I focused on my breathing, on the ground beneath my feet, on the faint sound of the real shaman chanting. Slowly, the illusion unraveled.
The spell had been manipulating my mind, preying on my scattered focus. Staying present and centered was the key to breaking free.
The illusion shattered.
“Aghhh!” The shaman let out an enraged scream, furious that I’d escaped his trick again.
I glanced down at the wound in my stomach. My clothes were torn, and blood seeped through, but it wasn’t deep. Painful, yes, but not enough to stop my body. I could still fight.
I’ve never thought of myself as lucky, but this time, I was. Lucky enough to survive the illusions. Lucky enough to notice one of the goblins charging at me recklessly. If I killed this one, I’d unlock a new skill.
Huff.
Tu-tump.
But—
I made up my mind. It was so easy to kill this goblin. Just one more kill.
“Zach!”
It only took one clean swing to slice its head off. But something felt... wrong.
I froze. My sword slipped from my hand as the figure of my mom ran toward me.
My mom.
The same woman who used to comb my hair when I was little, who taught me how to read by candlelight, who once told me I’d grow up to be someone great. But she was also the one who turned her back on me when things got hard, who let me wander the streets while she built a life with her second family.
I hated her.
No, I didn’t hate her—I hated what she’d done. The choices she made, the way she let everything fall apart over something so small. A misunderstanding that tore us to pieces.
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Yet, despite everything, I still missed her.
“Mom?” My voice cracked. My hands lifted on instinct, ready to embrace her. I wanted to believe this was real, that somehow she was here to fix everything. That she was here to apologize, to tell me she hadn’t forgotten about me.
But she never called me “her son.”
Not once. Not even when I begged for her attention.
My mom never called me her son. My eyes narrowed as I bent down to grab my sword.
The pain I’d buried for so long boiled over. Not just at her, but at myself for still holding on to the hope that things could go back to how they used to be.
“She never called me her son,” I muttered, a bitter smile curling on my lips.
I gripped my weapon tighter, and without hesitation, I swung.
Swishhhh!
The image shattered, replaced by the goblin mid-charge. My blade had already cut through its neck. Blood splattered as the creature fell, lifeless.
It was over.
But the sting of that illusion lingered.
Quest Update:
[20/20 Goblins Slayed]
Cling!
[Quest Complete]
Growth:
Current XP: 88/99 → 95
Phantom Slash: [Mastery: 18% → 19% ]
Swordsmanship Mastery: 12% → 13%
[NEW TITLE UNLOCKED]
GOBLIN SLAYER (Will affect low-level goblins)
[NEW SKILL UNLOCKED]
Skill Name: Artisan’s Insight
Type: Active/Passive Hybrid
Category: Utility/Combat Assistance
Allows the user to perceive weak points or flaws in an opponent’s defense or structure for a limited time. Effectiveness increases with mastery.
“You broke it again?!” the shaman screeched, his voice rising in frustration. He was clearly losing patience.
The illusions still lingered in my mind, but I couldn’t let them distract me. I had to focus on the present, on staying alive. Fighting this shaman was a pain, but at least I’d managed to whittle down his goblin guards to just one.
[Title: Goblin Slayer is taking effect]
Woah.
I’d almost forgotten about the title’s effect. It instills fear in low-level goblins, and sure enough, the last goblin started trembling. Within seconds, it dropped its weapon and bolted back toward the shaman, too scared to fight.
“Attack!” the shaman bellowed, but the goblin refused to budge. Instead, it turned to run.
“You coward!” the shaman roared, cutting the goblin down in a single, brutal strike.
Good. That just left him.
[Weak Point Determined]
Throat and heart aligned during chant. Execute a swift dual strike for decisive elimination.
So this was Artisan’s Insight.
For a split second, I saw it—glowing blue marks on the shaman’s throat and heart. A clear guide showing exactly where to strike.
I didn’t hesitate.
Swishhhh!
I slashed through his throat first, silencing him before he could chant another spell. Then, with precision, I drove my blade straight into his chest, piercing his heart.
The shaman collapsed, lifeless.
This skill was incredible—truly incredible.
[Battle Analysis Complete]
Efficiency: 92%. Minor risk detected during glyph formation—recommend earlier disruption.
Battle analysis? Huh, that was new. It even rated how efficiently I’d executed the move. Apparently, I’d taken a slight risk during the glyph’s formation. Good to know for next time.
Still, the job was done.
[Received Items]
• Potion from Shaman
Growth:
Current XP: 88/99 → 100
[PROMOTION: Unranked → Initiate]
LEVEL: INITIATE (100/299)
《Appear》
[Questions?]
《Yes. What are the level systems in this world? And why are they important?》
[Level System]
• Unranked (0-99 EXP)
• Initiate (100-299 EXP)
• Aspirant (300-599 EXP)
• Journeyman (600-999 EXP)
• Adept (1,000-1,599 EXP)
• Virtuoso (1,600-2,299 EXP)
• Champion (2,300-3,099 EXP)
• Heroic (3,100-4,099 EXP)
• Ascendant (4,100-5,299 EXP)
• Mythic (5,300-6,999 EXP)
• Eternal (7,000+ EXP)
[These are the ranks in this world]
[You are the only one who can see the XP system though, but widely these are the known ranks]
[Why it is important?]
Levels were everything—they determined your place in the hierarchy of warriors. Guild authorities could detect an individual’s level or rank with a simple magic detector, making it impossible to fake status
Phantom Slash: [Mastery: 19% → 20%]
As I exited the cave, I realized how much time had passed. The sun was rising over the mountains, casting a dim light across the landscape. Yet, it still felt dark, as though the day hadn’t fully committed to starting.
I uncorked the potion I’d taken from the shaman and drank it. Warmth spread through my body as the magic did its work, healing the wound on my stomach. It wasn’t a miracle cure, but it was enough to keep me going.
image [https://static.vecteezy.com/system/resources/thumbnails/027/187/944/small/gold-and-luxury-under-line-png.png]
It took another two hours to reach the mountain’s peak.
But it wasn’t what I’d expected.
I had imagined a grand temple—a towering structure of gold and marble, glowing with divine power. Instead, I found something much simpler: a small house made of wood, sitting on a patch of neatly cut green Bermuda grass.
At the far side of the temple, I spotted two individuals. They moved swiftly, their hands and feet perfectly in sync, performing a series of intricate maneuvers. Their movements were precise and fluid, almost like a dance, and it immediately reminded me of Roran. I could still picture him practicing his martial arts, each motion deliberate and powerful.
This wasn’t what I’d envisioned, but it was intriguing. Perhaps simplicity had its own kind of strength.
I walked toward them, taking in the surroundings as I moved. The area was lush and green, with vibrant flowers scattered among the bushes. A spring trickled softly nearby, and beside it stood a massive tree with orange and red leaves drifting lazily to the ground.
“Hyaaah!” one of the students shouted as they continued their practice.
Their movements were unlike anything I had seen before—fluid, precise, and unrelenting. The two students moved in harmony, as if connected by an invisible thread. Each strike was sharp and purposeful, their blocks calculated and efficient.
One of them leaped into a spinning kick, their foot cutting through the air with precision, while the other ducked beneath the arc, countering with a palm strike aimed at an imagined opponent. Their forms shifted seamlessly, transitioning from strikes to grapples and back to defensive stances in a rhythm that felt almost musical.
They didn’t just move—they flowed.
Every motion seemed intentional, as if each step and strike was part of a larger story they were telling with their bodies. The synchronization was so perfect it felt unreal, like they were extensions of the same mind.
Even as they sparred, there was a sense of control and balance, no wasted energy, no hesitation. It wasn’t just martial arts—it was mastery.
For a moment, I forgot about my purpose here. I stood there, captivated, watching them move like the embodiment of discipline and skill.
“You’re wondering how they do it, aren’t you?” the voice said, calm and knowing. “The secret isn’t in their hands or feet. It’s in their mind—the unshakable belief that they can.”
I turned to see an older man standing behind me. It was Janga, the master of this temple and a renowned teacher. He was shorter than me, maybe 5'3", with a bald head and a long, white beard. Despite his size and age, he carried himself with an air of wisdom and quiet strength.
Something about the way he spoke reminded me of Roran. Their voices had the same calm authority, the same weight of experience. It was like they shared a piece of the same soul.
I awkwardly bowed my head when I saw him, a gesture of apology for stepping into the temple unannounced. As I did, I pulled out the letter Roran had told me to deliver.
Janga took the letter, unwrapped it, and began reading. A smirk spread across his face as he finished.
“So, you’re the new student?” he asked, his voice carrying just enough volume to catch the attention of the two practicing students—a male and a female.
I didn’t know what was written in the letter, but I was just as surprised by his question as I was by being here. Perhaps it was because Roran had sent me specifically to learn Myogen from this man.
I nodded respectfully. “Yes, sir. My name is Zachary.”
The two students resumed their practice while Janga’s smirk lingered. “Roran’s too busy to teach you Myogen himself, huh?” he said with a chuckle.
That wasn’t exactly true. Roran had told me to come here because this teacher—Janga—was renowned for his skill and efficiency in teaching Myogen.
“Sir Roran told me you are a great teacher,” I said, choosing my words carefully, “and that you’re well-respected for teaching Myogen.”
Janga glanced at his students briefly. “Is that so?”
I nodded slowly.
“Alright then,” he said. “Follow me.” He turned and walked toward the spring.
His steps were so quiet it was as if he wasn’t walking at all.
“So, you’re my student now,” he said when we reached the spring. “You can address me as your teacher, Zach.”
“Yes, teacher,” I replied.
He knelt by the spring, dipping his hand into the water and swaying it gently. “Water is a great environment to see Myogen clearly—if you have the ability to see it.”
I knew about Myogen. It was always present in the world, but most people who didn’t practice it couldn’t see it. Even those who trained in Myogen rarely saw it clearly; they could only feel its presence.
Janga stilled his hand, and the ripples in the water faded. “There’s also what we call the Myogen Stream. Myogen is a universal current of energy, flowing invisibly through the world. It is neither good nor evil—it adapts to the intentions of its wielder.”
I listened carefully, absorbing every word.
“With techniques like Essence Flow, you can manifest an aura that enhances your strength and overall power. But the aura you create reflects your intentions. If you are driven by rage and revenge, your aura will be dark and destructive. On the other hand, if you are calm and focused, you’ll manifest a more controlled, balanced aura.”
His explanation was precise and to the point. He didn’t waste a moment, diving straight into teaching the moment we met.
“There are three primary forms of Myogen,” he continued. “Essence, External, and Harmonics. Essence focuses on enhancing physical power and aura. External allows for elemental manipulation, and mages cannot use magic without learning External Flow. Finally, Harmonics deals with the mental and spiritual. Harmonics practitioners use it for illusions and mental clarity, and like Essence, it can also affect auras.”
He paused for a moment, letting it sink in before adding, “Most practitioners focus on Essence. Some manage to learn both Essence and External. But mastering all three forms? That’s extremely rare.”