An hour later, I found myself sitting on top of the wall, enjoying what was essentially a bag of jerky. The texture and taste were slightly different from what I usually ate, but it tasted decent. It was a good mix of smoky umami mixed with salt and pepper. It was filling, tasty, and small enough that I could idly snack without thought.

Strangely enough, despite the rivers of blood that coated the ground, the coppery smell I'd expected was absent. In the end, I chalked it up to magical bullshit and enjoyed that it didn't mess with my eating.

My thoughts were half there and half gone. I was constantly tracking my connection with Zharia as she rested in my soul. Instinctively, I knew that she couldn't really get hurt outside of particular circumstances. Such as being destroyed while being outside of a certain range. I hadn't experienced it but like the knowledge that kept filling my head, I understood it at an instinctive level. It limited my dream of sending my familiars to scout, but thankfully that wasn't my job.

Still, it did nothing to release my worry for the small bird. Whether it was due to a natural sense of responsibility or my Legacy's weird instincts imprinted on me, I felt several things for my familiars. Because of that, when I felt Zharia's tiredness, it caused unease within me. I felt joy when they were happy, satisfaction when they were successful, and rage at anything that sought to harm them.

It was a lot to process, making me wonder if others with familiar-type skills felt the same way.

This rift was dangerous. For the first time since coming to this world, I could honestly say that the weight of it all put a healthy sense of fear within me. It was fun fighting forest beasts with weapons and magic despite the pain and injuries. This though? It didn't compare. Maybe it'd be different if I felt like I could actually contribute outside of playing support. But watching an unending wave of monsters rush across the land to tear my insides out?

Well, it sucked. The frustration entangling itself with a hint of doom and touch of use uselessness.

Foot steps halted my inner ramblings. Turning around, I saw not Sam, who I was expecting, but Orsk. The beastkin wore a clean shirt, the bloodstains absent from his body.

"Is there something wrong?" I asked.

He walked up and stood beside me, staring at the bloodied field and forest. Without a word, he sat down and hung his legs over the wall. "No, nothing is wrong."

His answer left me stumped. I was still struggling to understand the facial expressions of beastkins, but as far as I could tell, he was unbothered. Maybe he just wanted a place to sit and enjoy some small talk while at it.

I offered him some of my jerky, and he accepted a piece. It was a companionable silence, the world silent as it bathed in the moon's red glare. Not even wind tussled the trees or shifted some branches, just an eerie stillness that felt wrong and unnatural.

Finally, he broke the monotony of it all and turned his attention toward me.

"You know, this is actually my second rift delve," he said. I raised an eyebrow in response. As far as I knew, rifts were rare enough that most adventuring teams would only ever do a handful in their entire lives. He chuckled at my reaction. "A series of accidents combined with being in the right place at the wrong time led me to my first rift delve when I only had a single skill to my name."

That was interesting to know. It made me realize that I had no idea how old Orsk was. With the strangeness of foreign biology and immortality thrown into the mix, I had no ability to sense the age of a person in Inoria. For all I know, he could be in his early twenties, though I doubted it. He felt older

"How did it go? Was the rift scenario anything like this?"

He shook his head.

"No, nowhere near as straightforward. It was a survival rift that ended up taking over a month. Luckily, it was time dilated, so it only took half as long in the real world. It was a blue portal rift, so decently challenging. To me, barely old enough to have a skill, completely untrained and unprepared? It was perilous; I didn't even know how to start a fire." he said with some self-deprecation.

He continued on before I could ask any questions.

"I only survived because the man who originally entered the rift took pity on me and helped me survive. Even if he was only tier one at the time, he was a steel fortress against the harshness of that scenario. Unlike me, he was prepared and trained for the rift," he said. He looked out over the wall and back at the forest. "A month spent traversing through an underground forest, being little more helpful than a weak mule to hold his bags. Despite my weakness, he protected, fed, and trained me during our time there. I entered that rift merely as a boy and exited as a young man. My time in there made me want to help others, even if I could only ever rise to tier two." He recounted his tale wistfully, with a look in his eye that I couldn't quite ascertain.

I was surprised he willingly admitted to only being able to achieve tier two. It wasn't hard to pick up that one's limit of skill slots was a personal subject. Personally, it would be maddening to know that even if I worked my ass off, I would be stonewalled in my progression if I had fewer slots.

Then again, I wouldn't be doing something this insane if I was born here. Or maybe I would. Hopefully not.

"Thanks for telling me your tale. May I ask why you chose the skills that you have? I'm somewhat surprised you don't have a more direct skillset," I admitted, deciding to be slightly blunt.

He looked me in the eye and smirked. "My first skill stone was Mind Link. Due to how early I slotted in the skill and my natural inclinations, it shifted my affinities to more mental or unexpected skill types."

His reply confused me. I never heard of people having affinities outside of oni having a natural elemental aspect. Was I in trouble for having nature and fire skills? I know the mana mutations affected how my body evolved somewhat, but would my duality limit me severely in my future choices?

"What do you mean affinities? Are you saying that you can't use other mana types? For example, you couldn't absorb a fireball skill due to Mind Link," I asked.

Now, it was his turn for his eyebrows to raise and share a confused look on his face. "Did Brelten never explain this? I was given privy to you and Sam's circumstances in order to prepare for the expedition, but I know he taught you the basics of cultivation," he asked.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Considering I read the primer through and through, I knew there was no information regarding the limitation to skill types.

"No, it was never mentioned. The only time a hint of it ever came up was when Sam was selecting a skill stone from Brelten. He noted that she shouldn't choose the fire skill stone since she naturally uses water-aspected mana." I answered.

Orsk's face scrunched till suddenly, a look of clarity overcame him. "Oh, I think I know why it was never brought up. Since your Legacy doesn't have a specific mana type but a skill type, you need not worry. As a Reborn, from what I understand, you have access to all affinities. It'd be different if you spent a few years ranking up specific skills before you absorbed your final ones. Then you might have shifted your affinities and closed off others, but you're fine. Depending on their race, location of birth, and so on, most people have specific skills they can absorb. It is why you see most adventurers with only a singular mana aspect. And even low affinities can be crippling. Someone with next to no affinity toward fire would conjure a weaker Firebolt then someone with high affinity."

"So, cause my body is essentially new and made premium via the Grand Weave, skill limitations do not shackle me as other people. Man, being a Reborn really does have its unfair advantages." I chuckled.

Standing up, he put a hand on my shoulder, focusing me on him. "I'm going to go rest and check up on the others. Just know that I told you that story for a reason. You aren't as useless as you feel."

How did he know I was feeling put out? I know I wasn't showing any signs of it until I started sitting alone on the wall. He smirked again.

"It's a passive skill that lets me intuitively know what others are feeling. I felt your frustration even back when we reconvened after the wave. My job is to serve as a team's leader; part of that is knowing and addressing how those members feel. Just know, you are a world's difference in usefulness compared to how I was during my first rift. Even if you are low-ranked and not sending out waves of destruction like the others, your healing skills are essential. Without them, we'd fail this rift for sure. So cheer up and know that you're doing your part," he said as he hopped off the wall.

I suppose I'd have to take this as a sign to stop moping around. The only thing I can do is prepare for the waves and do all that I can to ensure our team's survival.

-----------------------

We checked our gear and stood in position. The countdown continued to dwindle, only moments away from reaching zero.

Injuries healed, fresh clothes, after triple checking our gear and supplies there was little else to prepare. Besides increased numbers, we weren't expecting anything different for this wave since it was only the second of ten. We did, however added things to make the battle easier.

Using Petraeus' mud skill, he slowly widened the field until it covered one hundred meters out. In addition to the bigger mud pit, he and his brother Xertalus used their water-based skills to create massive pools of water. Levin helped out by dousing copious amounts of acid into separate pits interspaced between them.

The swaths of land in front of the village was no more; now, it was pockmarked with huge pits of acidic water and drenched in mud. Our final addition to the combat field came from Sam. She added the idea of creating a cheval de frise and placing multiple of them around the area. The looks the entire group gave her were hilarious. Meleena accused Sam of making up stupid names just to annoy her, prompting Caldur to growl in even more prideful annoyance.

Orsk silenced Talon and gave Sam a pointed look before asking her to explain. When she realized the system didn't translate what she said, she apologized.. After explaining what she meant, Orsk agreed to the idea and had Caldur and Dyllan help her cut down trees and make the barriers.

So now, between the pits--the wooden barricades sported sharpened spikes to help funnel the monster's into manageable paths. The plan was to leave a tempting opening that allowed our range support to focus fire in a straight line.

No matter how this wave went, we were ready for it.

The moon that had returned to being just an enlarged orb of red at the end of the wave morphed into an eye and caused the world to pulse. Roars echoed across the field as if the monsters raged at reality itself. Unlike last time, when they gathered in a massive horde before attacking, they began rushing towards us the second they left the tree line. The ranged members of our team responded to their fervor and sent out destructive skills while releasing arrow after arrow amongst the horde.

As we hoped, our additions to the field worked splendidly. Large swathes of monsters fell into the acidic pools, staining them crimson as they kept falling in. With the assistance of mana, the pools of liquid served as a fast-acting solvent that whittled most of the front-liners of the horde before the other beasts learned to avoid the deadly traps.

The barricades were less effective. Most of the creatures would easily impale themselves onto the spikes in their mad rush to tear us apart. However, once the swarm of bodies piled onto the spikes, the other creatures would either avoid or bounce off the impaled beasts. Still, they served their purpose in delaying and filtering the horde of monsters, making the oncoming wave just that much easier.

Once again, I found myself gripping my spear tightly, feeling a gnawing sense of uselessness eating away at the edge of my mind. The ranged members of our team were already blasting the horde with spells and arrows, showcasing their deadliness with each monster slain. And all too soon, the melee fighters were forced to engage as well. I knew realistically that I'd have my time to shine, to contribute, but it was agonizing to watch Sam in the thick of it while I remained a passive observer.

That uselessness was replaced by a weighty excitement once Orsk called in movements from behind us. It would seem this wave wanted to waste nothing since the flying monsters were already deploying.

Sending Áine to heal the melee team's people, Zharia and I guarded the rear. Much like the last round, I fell into a repetitive pattern of jabbing my spear at whatever creature flew too close to the wall. Having Zharia assisting me from the start of the battle certainly helped ease the pressure brought on by the flying swarm.

Throughout the battle, I was forced to knock back a couple of mana potions to keep up with the cost of healing everyone. I spent a good portion of the wave annoyed at the guards assisting with the defense. The worst was when an overly confident young man nearly blew himself to shreds. I almost went into mana fatigue restoring the bowling ball-sized hole of missing flesh that was carved out of his torso.

"You know, if you keep frowning like that, it's going to become a permanent feature on your face," Petraeus remarked as he fired off another shotgun blast of water into a cluster of blood bats.

I didn't bother dignifying the elf with a proper reply. Instead, I grunted and skewered another monster. Which led to me being covered in caustic blood that seeped through the gaps of my armor. In truth, it didn't hurt, not really. The pain was minimal compared to having my limbs torched and barbequed by annoying red pigs.

I wasn't even really mad. It was just a good outlet to vent my earlier frustrations and stress. So far, things were smooth. We minimized damage to our team, more efficiently decimated the monster wave, and basically spit on the rift's idea of tearing us apart limb from bleeding limb.

Ultimately, we cleared most of the monsters without further accidents. The wave wasn't easy, but we handled it. And fewer injuries met an easier time recovering my mana.

Orsk made the call, and the melee fighters made their way back into the village. Edithe sent out a Chain Lightning and fried the last two monsters. The two blood beasts shaped like foxes bubbled and boiled before exploding in a shower of blood.

Just as I dismissed my spear back into my inventory, a ping from the system rang out in my head. The little notification on the bottom right corner of my vision flashed.

"What the...?" I muttered.

Protect the Village of Holmfirth

Wave: 2/10 Survived

Villagers Survived: 98%

Time remaining till next wave: 0h: 9mins: 36sec

Prepare yourselves, Ascendants. A Champion of Blood and Wrath approaches! The Third Wave will commence in ten minutes.