Stephen Jacobs
HP: 100
MP: 15
Level: 5
Jobs: Barbarian (Lv. 2), Glitched (Lv. 3)
Attributes:
STR: 38
DEX: 24
END: 40
INT: 44
WIS: 34
LCK: 25
Skills:
Melee Proficiency (Lv. 4)
Brutal Strike (Lv. 2)
Glitch (Lv. 2)
Overcome (Lv. 2)
Adrenaline (Lv. 2)
Parse (Lv. 1)
Titles:
Glitched
King Slayer
Defier of Odds
Active Quest: The Coming Horde, Horde Incoming 134:13:15:08
Corin spoke little as the two walked away from River's Edge, their path taking them east. Stephen followed behind silently, occasionally giving his two new axes test swings, feeling their heft and balance. The trail became rockier, and the once sparse trees surrounding the town grew thicker and denser.
"We're here," Corin said after a while, stopping and turning towards Stephen. A small, ramshackle cabin made of logs stood behind him. The structure looked rough, with visible wood rot in several spots, and holes eaten clean through the outer walls. The sagging roof appeared ready to collapse. Stephen glanced at the cabin, perplexed, before shifting his gaze back to Corin.
"You’re at a severe disadvantage compared to other fighters," Corin began. "We were raised with the knowledge of how the Godly System operates. The fact that you’ve survived this long is either sheer dumb luck or a testament to your resolve." He paused, then extended his hands, and two massive battle axes appeared in his grip. "And we're going to figure out which it is."
Without warning, Corin lunged forward, launching an attack that caught Stephen flat-footed. Stephen had no time to react as the blunt impact of Corin's strike hit his ribs. He heard a crack as he was hurled sideways, slamming into a tree with the force of a rocket. His vision flashed white, and blood spewed from his mouth. As soon as he found his footing, he barely had time to register a massive overhead chop before it smashed him into the ground face-first.
"You need to harness your class. Feel your blood boil. Learn to release it—control it. Don't let it consume you," Corin said coolly, sending a hard kick into Stephen's ribs, lifting him off the ground. A horizontal swing followed, launching Stephen into the brush. "I don't know what your end goal is. But if you don’t fight back, I’ll end it here." Corin’s voice remained calm as he approached the downed Stephen.
Stephen grunted, coughing up more blood as he shakily rose from the forest floor. He heard the snap of a branch and pushed himself up just in time to dodge a devastating blow that cleaved into the ground where he had been. Gripping his two new axes, he launched a counterattack.
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Stephen panted, his body bruised, his jaw misaligned, and cuts marring his skin. Corin, seated against a tree, laughed and sipped from a flask of water.
"You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that," Corin said between laughs. He looked the polar opposite of Stephen—untouched, uncut, and full of energy. "Well, that was a good warm-up." Corin stood, giving his axes a few test swings. "Get up, Stephen."
Stephen barely moved. His eyes pleaded for a respite. Why was he doing this? He thought this was supposed to be training, but it felt like he was nothing more than a punching bag. Even when Stephen fought back, his blows never landed. Everything he tried failed.
"I said, get up," Corin barked. Moving swiftly, he kicked Stephen into the air and connected with a punch to his face, sending him spiraling back to the ground. "We are Barbarians. Your compulsion tells you to stand and fight. Stop thinking—feel it." Corin swung his axe in a powerful vertical slash. His expression twisted into surprise as Stephen deflected the blow, using one of his axes to intercept.
The counter surprised even Stephen. His blood boiled, and without thinking, he moved and reacted instinctively. But even so, the blows kept crashing into him.
"There it is—you’re getting it," Corin said, deflecting Stephen’s next attack with ease. The level gap between them was obvious. Every strike Stephen launched was effortlessly deflected.
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System Message: Melee Proficiency increased.
Stephen leapt back as the message flashed across his vision. He glanced at Corin, who wore a knowing smile.
"See? I’m not just beating you for no reason," Corin said, advancing. "Warriors improve through training. Magic users improve by studying. But us?" He leveled his axe at Stephen. "We are forged in blood, pain, and combat. We can only improve in the heat of battle, pushing ourselves further. Each step brings us closer to death, but we stand resolute in the face of it." He lowered his weapon and stepped closer, patting Stephen on the shoulder with a smile. "We’re done for the day, but your training isn’t. We need firewood. Don’t return until you’ve brought me two hundred pieces."
With that final order, Corin turned and vanished into the derelict cabin.
Stephen’s body screamed in pain as his adrenaline wore off. Alone in the clearing, confused and exhausted, he stared blankly at the cabin door, hoping Corin would reappear and tell him it was all a joke. Minutes passed. Nothing. The realization sank in—this was no joke. There would be no reprieve.
Taking a step toward the house, he froze as Corin’s voice boomed from inside.
"If you return with no wood, we’ll resume combat training!"
Stephen flinched, his body protesting, and moved sluggishly into the forest to begin chopping.
Hefting his axe, he swung. Pain shot through his arms as the blade bit into the tree.
"What kind of training is this?" he grumbled, swinging again, chips of wood flying with each strike. "This is torture!" He swung harder despite the pain. Frustration fueled each strike, and the tree cracked and groaned as it fell away from him.
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Hours later, Stephen returned, the sun dipping below the horizon, stars twinkling in the violet sky as night fell. He dumped the firewood in front of the cabin. The door flew open, and Corin stepped out to examine the work. Satisfied, he nodded.
"Good. Now, open your status screen."
Stephen complied, his eyes widening as he stared at the changes.
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Stephen Jacobs
HP: 100
MP: 15
Level: 5
Jobs: Barbarian (Lv. 2), Glitched (Lv. 3)
Attributes:
STR: 45
DEX: 24
END: 50
INT: 44
WIS: 34
LCK: 25
Skills:
Melee Proficiency (Lv. 5)
Brutal Strike (Lv. 2)
Glitch (Lv. 2)
Overcome (Lv. 2)
Adrenaline (Lv. 2)
Parse (Lv. 1)
Titles:
Glitched
King Slayer
Defier of Odds
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Stephen looked at Corin, stunned. "How did that… I didn’t level up… I don’t understand."
Corin chuckled. "Did you think people just stagnate between levels?" He opened his own status screen.
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Corin McGregor
HP: 879
MP: 130
Level: 42
Jobs: Barbarian (Lv. 35), Mentor (Lv. 7)
Attributes:
STR: 215
DEX: 113
END: 362
INT: 120
WIS: 97
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"Attributes increase through working out, titles, or leveling." Corin closed his status screen. "Training your body is the most reliable way to grow stronger, followed by leveling, and then titles. Titles are great for bonuses, but they’re tricky to attain if you don’t know exactly what you’re aiming for."
Corin's face turned serious. "I’m willing to train you, Stephen, but it’ll be grueling, constant, and I’ll push you past your breaking point. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover to make up for that lack of experience."
Corin looked Stephen over for a long moment before finally speaking again. "From this point on, you're not allowed to check your status screen during our training."
Stephen blinked, confused. "What? Why not?"
Corin’s expression hardened as he walked closer, towering over Stephen. "You’re chasing numbers, not growth. Strength, endurance, skill—none of it should be about what the system tells you. You need to _feel_ it. Every strike, every block, every swing of your axe should teach you something, not just add to some stat. If you’re constantly looking at numbers, you’ll never understand what it means to truly push beyond your limits."
Stephen frowned but nodded slowly, the logic settling in. It made sense in a brutal, unrelenting kind of way—just like everything else Corin did.
"You're not here to chase numbers, Stephen," Corin continued. "You're here to become something more. To surpass who you were yesterday. The system won’t save you. Your instincts, your strength, your will to keep standing after the blood’s spilled—that’s what will."
Corin’s eyes seemed to darken, his gaze distant for a moment as if recalling something. His voice softened slightly, almost imperceptibly, as he added, "Trust the training. Trust yourself."
Stephen clenched his fists. "I understand."
With a grunt of approval, Corin turned and began walking toward the derelict cabin again. His movements were powerful, but Stephen caught something—just a subtle hitch in Corin’s step, almost unnoticeable. Corin grimaced, a fleeting wince, but quickly masked it under a stoic façade. His hand briefly rested against his side before he straightened.
Stephen narrowed his eyes, watching the veteran warrior carefully. There was something there—something Corin wasn’t saying. A hidden vulnerability. It wasn’t obvious, but it was there.
Corin didn’t look back as he disappeared into the shadows of the cabin. His voice called out one final order. "Get some rest. Tomorrow, we push even harder."
Stephen stood there for a moment, bruised and exhausted, but now burdened with a strange sense of unease. Corin was a mountain of a man, seemingly invincible, but even mountains had cracks. And for the first time, Stephen wondered just how deep Corin’s went.