The world shifted as Alan reached out for his domain in the Spirit World through gasps and suppressed curses. He knew that he was not going to die from his wounds, but healing himself with mana alone was a slower process than he would’ve liked. To recover as if he had taken one of the precious pilfered elixirs in his inventory, was a dream for another day which would take a lot more growth.
There was a price to pay for what he had become and achieved. His body burned with life given by mana while storing the life of others as if it were rainwater to be used in other things. There were no regrets there, but it was an annoyance to have all those healing potions and elixirs, and not be able to utilize them in need.
It took a while for a doorway to appear. It was made of shimmering dark currents and undulating red grass this time around. Nothing like the grand affair during his first entrance into the small part of the Spirit World that belonged to him.
He struggled to stand up, but his body refused to listen. With a huff, he coated himself with a suit of shadows that carried him like a puppet. Fine control was difficult, as he was mostly used to attacking things without restraint, so it took him a few tries until he felt safe to move. Ripping off a limb due to not knowing his strength would’ve been quite funny given his situation, but he tried not to go so far.
Alan’s previously regrown finger had taken more than a day. And these wounds… while his mana worked faster, and his mana body was many times more receptive to its care, there were still issues. The will was devoured, but the very energy of the attack had done more damage than he had guessed. He was missing something, and it was still inside him. An annoyance—a pest that would be devoured in time, but time was not something he had right now.
“C-Come, Mayra.”
The girl returned to him in haste, a whirling chain dragging the hovering Rust behind her. He was busy screaming with his eyes closed, lost in a dreamscape of terror. He cut a sorrowful picture, and Alan grinned. Mayra stopped and looked around confused and worried. She too had sensed the change of sentiments in the Sanctuaries people. They had bowed before power, and now there was an opportunity to rid themselves of both old and new oppressors. Who wouldn’t take it? They were human after all.
“What are we doing?” Mayra asked nervously.
Can she not see the door? That’s convenient.
Alan forced the shadows to part from his hand and grabbed at Mayra’s thin wrist with more force than he would’ve liked. She didn’t scream or wince. Apologies could wait.
“W-Walk with m-me.”
He saw them move. The first ones jumped down from the walls and stepped carefully forward. They could smell his weakness, despite the difference between them. Sharks, but not proud and dangerous. A smaller type that sought out weak prey in the waters. Rot eaters like the monsters from the forests. Carrions. Rust had taught them well by leading by example and Rosalyn would have her work cut out for her once Alan returned and took over.
The shadows forced his body to move and Alan stepped through the gate along with Mayra and Rust’s unconscious body. The Spirit World washed over him like a wave, and even his mana seemed excited as it churned ever faster. He instantly shut off the part of his brain that was almost constantly vigilant of any changes in the flow surrounding him. Observing the weave of this place was too dangerous to the current him.
The house with crystal walls was still there, and the pond glistened in front of it, reflecting the low-hanging starry sky. Bushes and trees created a chaotic garden that smelled of fresh spring and sweetness, while a cozy wind rustled the leaves and sang between the branches. The foliage had grown since the last and first time he had spent time in this place. Enid’s influence was still fresh and even now he caught a whiff of her laughter and scent.
And around all of that was a hungry darkness. The mists once present were fully gone, and the shadows were pitch-black clouds waiting for something to feed them. It was a reflection of him, after all. The walls of his domain. The doors keep all the dangers of this unknown world out.
Alan let the shadows lead him to a tree, then allowed them to dissipate and refocused all of his mana toward healing. Only then did he look at Mayra, expecting a reaction of sorts. He wanted to brag, but his mouth refused to move.
Instead, he found her frozen, Rust’s body floating next to her. She was paler than usual, and her makeup was falling in deep streaks as tears fell from her eyes. Alan tried to speak, but the effort of coming here had been enough to drain him even further. At least they were safe.
“—gone. It’s gone. It’s gone!” Mayra suddenly started saying. She repeated it louder and louder, then screamed and fell to her knees.
What the fuck is going on? There was no danger. He knew that as sure as he knew his name. This was his domain, and even dangerous spirits would seek out permission. Then what?
“Alan! What is this place?! Where are we?! MY PATRON! MY—,” her eyes rolled in the back of her head and she fell to the floor, unconscious.
Alan stared at her prone figure with fear and curiosity. She was alive, but apparently, there was an issue with her dear patron. Were [Warlocks] not welcome in the Spirit World? Or was it perhaps due to the very nature of the class that spirits had shown so much interest in him? No. That was Thorn and the title. He had gotten a class after that… strange.
This is interesting. I could maybe use this one day. For now…
Closing his eyes he let the mana do its magic. He couldn’t help Mayra as he was, so there was no reason to panic. Getting better was more important. Perhaps the fruits could help? He sent thin tendrils of shadow to fetch him a few. It couldn’t hurt to munch on something while the holes in him grew new flesh.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
…
A few hours later the wounds were doing much better, but the internal damage was still an issue. There was another energy inside him, one that was neither will nor a particularly notable strain of mana. It was something in between, and it reminded him vaguely of his curses. Could it be something similar? Alan shook his head and instead focused on the System messages. He finally had time for them.
You have slain Sagird [Warrior] (*101)
You have slain Sagird [Warrior] (*103)
Level up!
You have reached level 122 in Tier Two [Shepherd of the Broken]
+5 Attribute Points
+5 to Mind, Will, Magic
“Sagird? The fuck…”
Whatever. Only one level for what he had gone through was criminal.
At the very least speech was no longer a problem. Alan stood up with a groan, using the shadows to support himself yet again, and picked a piece of berry from one of the nearby bushes, before feeding it to Mayra. His movements were crude—his fingers didn’t listen quite as well as he wanted them to, but he tried to be gentle.
She woke up with a start and looked around while reaching for her mouth. She chewed a few times, then her eyes widened. She was calmer now. More present and not panicky. However, there was a deep terror that appeared in her eyes the very next moment.
“Where are we?” Mayra tried again. “What have you done to me?”
“I just brought us to my home. No one can come here without my permission. That includes your patron, apparently. I didn’t know. Is your [Pact] intact?” The last thing he wanted was to allow some mighty prick to peek into his personal life. No more of that.
Mayra hesitated, then nodded. “Sorry, I just—it’s terrifying. Like losing part of yourself. My skills, my everything remains, but I can’t reach it. Only those not given by the patron are still here. This… this is not our world, is it? A pocket dimension? But you’re not nearly powerful enough to—”
“I might tell you the story of this place one day, but for now, we have another guest to deal with,” Alan said, hoping a distraction would work well for the girl. He didn’t like scaring her so, and while her oath made it night impossible to distrust her, sharing more than necessary was simple stupidity.
“I can’t do almost anything. Only my scrolls, but—”
“That’s fine. I can handle it on my own,” Alan grinned. “I’m sorry for scaring you, but allowing that thing holding your leash here would be the last thing I do. I hope you don’t hate me for it.”
I truly do, don’t I? God, am I so lonely?
He stood up again, and Mayra rushed to support him. His whole body ached in a way that reminded him of his previous state when he had been just a human. It was infuriating, and even the calm brought by being in the Spirit Domain did little to assuage his annoyance.
With a sigh, he conjured a simple cane—a dark mockery of his old one—and trudged on toward Rust. The shadowy cane gripped the earth and almost acted like a third leg. This was better than moving like some sort of a dark human-octopus hybrid. It was not quite the way he wanted their meeting to happen, but it would have to do. There was little to ask of the man, other than information on the strange golden insectoids—the Sagird.
First came the curse mark—an additional insurance in case things went south. Alan wasn’t sure what he could do in this place, but he wasn’t that keen on finding out what would happen if one fought in their own domain. There were vultures everywhere. Be they spirits or humans. He put a hand on Rust’s forehead and pulled at the curse. It reacted instantly, lessening its hold on the man.
Rust woke up almost immediately with a scream. His mana started swirling almost immediately, pooling around his arms. Then, before Alan could react, the golden mark on his forehead shone and Rust’s ability simply dissipated.
How wonderful. He has a built-in shock collar. Who holds the remote, I wonder?
“Hey there, my friend,” Alan called.
He gestured for Mayra to release the chains and Rust fell onto the grass with a thud before frantically scrambling up. The deep dark bags under his eyes and the wild look were enough of a tell that the curse hadn’t been kind. Alan had after all set it at full strength.
“Did you like my gift?”
“MONSTER! SCUM! LEAVE ME BE! DIE—”
A grip upon a somewhat frail stream of vitality. A pull. About fifty points worth, if Alan had to guess? Sounded about right for a tier two.
“W-Wha—”
Another pull. Alan stored it all for later use. He liked having a lot of it, especially when it was coming from such enemies.
“What deal did you reach with the bugs?” Alan asked. “Just answer me, and I won’t take any more of your life force.”
Rust’s eyes grew even more bloodshot and he screamed, before calming down. Then, he started to cry, and that quickly morphed into rage.
Did I break him completely? Ah, fuck it.
“You traitor! You scum! Do you know what you’ve done? You’ve ruined it ALL! THEY’LL KILL US ALL! THEY WILL—”
Rust groaned and fell to his knees. The golden line on his forehead undulated, then disappeared without a trace. Alan could feel the coming of something, but he was not worried. The build-up was slow. The mana was sluggish. It would take but a thought to plunge Rust back into the world of twisted past, but considering that he seemed useless… Maybe Rosalyn could—?
No. Alan wasn’t about to play babysitter.
He still let it all go on until the very final moment. An explosion or a mutation was the question. Whatever was happening was strange and quite peculiar. Any sort of skill clues were of great value to someone who developed like Alan—from tiny inspirations and lucky chances. If a patron couldn’t get to his domain, the bug bastards certainly couldn’t. Was their control simply removed because of that? Maybe bringing some living beings into the Spirit World from time to time was a good idea.
As he felt his danger sense pick up and the domain start to rumble, Alan finally acted. Putting this place at risk was a no-go. He pulled at the life force while simultaneously resuming the [Curse of Buried Shadows]. The effects were instant. Screams that dulled quickly as lifeforce fled the dying body.
By the end, Rust was nothing but a mummy that fell to the ground.
How anticlimactic.
You have slain Human [Rustmancer] (*133)
Level up!
You have reached level 123 in Tier Two [Shepherd of the Broken]
+5 Attribute Points
+5 to Mind, Will, Magic
“Was that… wise?” Mayra asked.
“He started it!” Alan defended himself, then turned his gaze sharply toward the dark curtains surrounding his domain.
Heavy knocking rattled everything, and a terrible aura seeped through the darkness. A spirit had come, and it was no one Alan knew.