Knight Aristotle couldn’t believe it. Lorlen was going to skin him alive for this catastrophic fuckup. He was in shock. After slamming into the dispassionate stone wall, Aristotle was left with a splitting headache, that overcharged magebolt had hurt. The excruciating pain of his protesting head seemed to travel through his body and merge with the fury bursting through his blood like molten iron. Aristotle would have killed Dennis slowly, made him suffer in ways that could only be imagined, although quite reluctantly by most people. But Dennis was dead anyway. Lorlen was going to blame him for that too. The idiotic archers that had decided to shoot a mage would have been stripped of their military rank, if they too were not dead. How could a single boy, who had only just received his class, a boy without one level to his name, have been capable of decimating so many guards? Although the knight had been unconscious during the fight, he had been awake to see the aftermath. Three clean kills. Uncaring slaughter, simplistic in its brutality. The boy must have been truly skilled to have won such an engagement, especially considering his level. Of course the guards, were low level, but who expected a level 1 boy to be capable of winning a ten on one fight. Aristotle was in a depressing amount of trouble.

After waking up from his unconsentual nap, Aristotle had been directed by one of the main guards to the gate where the boys had ran to. Aristotle had arrived at the scene to find four dead bodies. The inept guards he cared little about, they were fools for being defeated by a mere unlevelled boy, no matter what the hell his class had been. After seeing the tattoo the boy had received at the ceremony, Aristotle was inclined to believe the boy had been cursed and branded by the God. But now he was not so sure. But there was nothing Aristotle could do about that. The glowing purple eyes the boy had sported for a few minutes after receiving his class were creepy though. They had seemed to writhe with exploding power, desperate to break free.

When Aristotle had seen the Mage’s body he had practically groaned in dismay, Lorlen had gone to extreme efforts to control the boy, mages were powerful and Lorlen needed magical support for his small army. Aristotle knew the gem which controlled Dennis was incredibly powerful. Lorlen had included Aristotle in the enchantment, allowing him to take control of the mage, something incredibly useful in battle. Especially considering Lorlen would never be caught in the front lines ordering around the mage. Lorlen had mastered the armchair patriot discipline. Aristotle had been told the enchanted gem which controlled the boy was worth three knight’s weight in gold and so he took the necklace from the boy’s corpse. He was sure Lorlen would find a new person to control with the gem and he didn’t want to be responsible for its loss lest he invoke even more punishment. Aristotle moved away from the chaos left behind by the fight, allowing the lesser guards to retrieve the bodies of the dead. Pale faced and scared, the remaining seven guards from the stage stood in anticipation, waiting to see the reaction from Aristotle. Beckoning them to follow him, Aristotle led the guards to Lorlen’s mansion, where they would receive their punishment.

Dennis couldn’t believe his ruse had worked. It had spent weeks of dreary practice to master magical illusions, but once he had, it wasn’t difficult to make it appear as though he had been shot and killed by the arrow. The hard part was maintaining the illusion, such a powerful and convincing construct cost him about five mana a second. The effort of channelling that much mana must have made Dennis look like a corpse for real. His face was pale and sweat had leeched off his body. He had had to drop the illusion at one point, when the guards stopped paying attention to him. When Aristotle arrived, Dennis had made sure to keep the illusion up, he knew the knight had the observational skills of an eagle and would notice if the illusion fluttered at all. Illusion was a difficult skill to master as a mage, one that Dennis had only been able to do since he had unlocked the illusion skill straight away after receiving his class. It seemed like fun at the time, but now it could save his life. Every mage started off with the ability to make manabolts and mana shields but other abilities came at the cost of skill points. The main issue with illusion was that anyone with a higher intelligence than Dennis himself wouldn’t see the illusion at all. This meant Dennis risked discovery if any of the guards had levelled their intelligence once. A priest would instantly see through the ruse. Dennis had to take the risk though.

Engrossed in his thoughts, Dennis almost allowed his illusion to slip, then caught himself at the last second, using a burst of mana to reinforce it. As if he had seen Dennis’ sudden burst of power, Aristotle moved towards Dennis. Staring him dead in the eye, Aristotle reached downwards. Dennis had kept his eyes closed, aware he would find it difficult to mirror the glassy eyed look of the dead with the illusion since he had never seen it first-hand. Dennis felt a sudden pressure on his neck and then felt a weight lift from him.

His plan had actually worked! The compulsion stone was gone. He was free!

Lying as still as possible, Dennis waited until he heard no voices and felt no one near him. Carefully, Dennis opened his eyes, hoping that he was alone. He was. No guards had been sent to replace the ones the boy had killed. The gate was open, anyone could just walk into town. Or walk out. Slowly rising to his feet, Dennis glanced furtively around him, before walking casually to the gate. He continued his ambling gate for a few minutes, until he was well out of sight of the town. Then he began to jog, moving as far from the town as he could without tiring too quickly, even though it was tempted to break out into a sprint.

After having watched the boy slash through the guards effortlessly like a sword cutting through air, Dennis decided that he didn’t want to travel alone anymore, although he was almost a master at illusions after countless nights studying, his offensive capabilities were poor and his defensive ones almost non-existent. The boy was a deadly warrior and Dennis wanted his protection. That was why, before Dennis had faked his death, he had fired a small amount of mana at the boy. This mana burst attached itself to the boy, refusing to be dispersed. Dennis could feel this mana’s presence, waiting to be recalled. By following this presence, Dennis could follow the boy and eventually meet up with him although it did decrease Dennis’ overall mana reserves by ten. He only had one hundred mana because of it. With any luck, the temporary loss would be well worth it. Hopefully the boy would be in need of a companion just as much as Dennis was.

* * *

Something had jolted the boy awake. For a millisecond, the boy felt a faint presence. As suddenly as the feeling came, it receded into nothing. Battered and bruised, the boy took in his surroundings, he was lying flat under a tree, the first hints of daylight, breaking through the verdant green forest canopy. Groaning the boy recalled the events of the previous day. He still felt the sense of shock around his cold-hearted killing of the guards. Even though, the boy knew they would be just as happy killing him - anything for a bit of life essence. Remembering the shock and terror on the guard’s faces, the boy wondered if it had truly been worth it. Six lives snuffed out, six bereaved families, six poor souls suffocating in their own blood, dying in the dirt. Shaking his head, the boy felt a single hot tear streak down his face. Surely it would have been better for him to allow the guards to slay him. At least then he wouldn’t have had to slaughter the inexperienced youths.

Wiping away the tear, the boy resolved himself. He had done what any of the guards in his place would have tried to do. He had survived. They couldn’t begrudge him that. The boy better make sure that the guards hadn’t died for nothing. He would honour their names by staying alive. Although perverse, this logic made a strong kind of sense to the boy, he wondered whether the dead guards would have agreed with it. He wondered if they would have forgiven their slaughter. Not likely, thought the boy glumly.

Deciding to start increasing his survivability as soon as possible, the boy willed his status screen to open. Instantly, a prompt appeared:

You have received 270exp:

160exp from Killing warrior x4

50exp from Killing ranger x1

60exp from Killing archer x1

The boy’s eyes widened in surprise - that was surely a large amount of experience, maybe he could level up with it?

After accepting this prompt, another prompt appeared:

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

You have levelled up

Blade God: Level 2 (170/200 exp)

(Four attribute points available)

A new screen appeared, this prompted the boy to increase his statistics. The boy was shocked, when a person levelled up, two points were automatically added to their statistics. These points were always in the same attributes. This ensured that warriors would only have increases in strength and resilience while merchants would only increase their charisma and dexterity. This provided definite class boundaries which made each class suited to their tasks. It seemed the boy was able to level up any statistic he wanted. Furthermore, the boy received four points, every other person received two per level up, the fact that the boy received four and that he could decide where the points were added to, was incredible. It made the boy exceedingly powerful.

Deciding that the most intelligent decision would be for the boy to apply every point he had into luck, he exerted his will on luck, trying to assign his points. Nothing happened. An error prompt appeared. “You may not level up this statistic.” It read. The boy exhaled furiously. His goddamned luck. Not only was the whole universe against him, but he couldn’t even stop it. Swearing, after a little contemplation the boy decided to add his points to strength and resilience instead. Two points for each would go a long way to improving the boy’s combat skills. Many higher level players would have skin so tough the boy would be almost unable to penetrate it without at least 15 strength. The boy also knew that without at least a little more resilience, a warrior with a little more strength than him could easily cleave him in half.

Satisfied with his choices, the boy assigned the attribute points, then looked once more at his statistics. They read:

Name: Unknown

Class: Blade God (level 2) (170/200)

Age: 16

HP: 45/110

Mana: ∞

Strength: 11

Agility: 20

Dexterity: 21

Charisma: 7

Resilience: 11

Intelligence: 10

Luck: 0

(One incoming mail)

It was a good a time as any to open his mail the boy thought. He wondered who could have sent him a message. Only a select few classes could send messages through life essence mail. This form of communication was entirely private and instant. Therefore it was coveted by many nobles. Few priests and some clerics learnt the skill but the boy knew no priests or clerics and so had no inkling of where the mail could have come from. About to satisfy his curiosity and open the message, the boy heard a sudden snap. The crack of a tree branch breaking. Someone was watching him.

Colliding back into the real world, the boy quickly closed his status screen and summoned his twin swords. They felt unbelievably light in his hands and they seemed to exude a pale blue glow. Definitely not weapons of stealth. But the boy was sure brute force would make up for it.

“Who’s there,” the boy called, expecting to be attacked at any second.

Stepping out from the underbrush, his hands up in the air, Dennis called: “It’s me Dennis, I’m the mage. I wondered if we could travel together.”

The boy felt as if he were looking at a ghost, his mouth opened and his eyes stared at Dennis uncomprehendingly. “But, you’re, you’re dead… How are you here?” questioned the boy, somewhat in shock.

“It was an illusion,” called Dennis “made it easier to escape.”

Huh, thought the boy, he didn’t even know illusions were possible. Dennis was a mage though, he would be capable of many things the boy didn’t even know were possible. Unless this was a trick, maybe Lorlen sent someone who looked like his saviour to capture him. Dennis would keep his guard up, ready to engage in combat. But, after a little thinking, he felt sure that if the lord wanted to capture him, he would be more likely to send a few knights. He had no need of illusions.

After a little thought, the boy replied to Dennis: “I’ll travel with you, but I don’t have a clue where the hell we’re going.”

“Neither do I” laughed Dennis, “but it’s got to be safer with two of us.”

The boy didn’t quite trust Dennis, but he definitely had a good point. He needed a travelling companion and Dennis was a powerful one, he would gladly travel with him. The boy was quite curious about Dennis too. Dennis was obviously a powerful mage and had risked everything to save the boy. Why?

Dennis moved slowly towards the boy, they clasped hands and a flash of purple life essence pulsed around them. As quickly as the life essence appeared, it disappeared. A prompt appeared in both of the boy’s vision.

Party created:

Exp Share enabled (active within twenty metres)

(Do you want to create a party name?)

The boy closed the prompt, he obviously wasn’t good at creating names. He didn’t even have one himself, how was he ever going to create a party name? The boy decided to keep the party nameless, just like himself.

“Hmmm,” Dennis inquired, “I never did ask, what’s your name?”

Obviously Dennis hadn’t received the same prompt or he would now be deciding to create a party name. “I don’t have one. Never had.” replied the boy.

That was odd thought Dennis, even the lowest of the low were given a name at birth. To not have one suggested that the boy had never even met his parents. To not be given one by someone else seemed strange, it suggested the boy had little in the way of social interaction throughout his life.

“Well that won’t do. How am I supposed to call you? What if we get attacked? Maybe I should choose a name for you.” Dennis replied, half in jest.

The boy considered for a second, not realising Dennis was joking. He had never been good at thinking of names and he couldn’t think of a good name for himself. Maybe it would be better if Dennis named him. “Sure,” the boy shrugged, “do your worst.”

Dennis thought for a moment, the boy was a deadly fighter, one who had escaped an impossible situation. A swordsman stronger than almost every other. He needed a name that fit him, something powerful and strong. Something to showcase his fighting prowess and strike fear into his enemies’ heart. “Beats me,” replied Dennis “I can’t think of anything fitting, I’ll just call you Four for now.”

“Four? Why Four?” the boy questioned confusedly.

“Because you’re better than the other three, but not that lucky apparently and numbers are supposed to make good names according to a few pompous fighters out there.” Replied Dennis, a mask of seriousness on his face. His ability to turn everything into a joke seemed to be returning now that he had finally escaped Lorlen’s clutches. At least, for now.

The boy shrugged once again. He seemed to be shrugging a lot in the presence of Dennis. As long as Dennis had something to call him, the boy didn’t care too much, even if the explanation for the name made no sense whatsoever. “Come on we need to move and get as far away from Lorlen as we can manage,” the boy nonchalantly replied.

“Four, the harshest of taskmasters,” Dennis joked, following the brisk pace that the other boy had set.

The two boys moved in companionable silence. The only sounds following them was the music of the forest: the piercing chirp of forest birds mixed in with the constant rustling of tiny forest animals moving through the plentiful brush infesting the ground.

Occasionally, a bright strike of white fur would shoot past the boys, a wandering rabbit. The forest seemed to be infested with them. Even with Four’s massively increased agility he found it almost impossible to catch a rabbit, often receiving numerous cuts and lashes from tree branches for his efforts. Both the boy’s stomachs were growling with hunger and they needed to successfully hunt for food. After countless failed attempts, Four was ready to give up.

Finally, Four decided to try a new tactic. After hearing the tell-tale rustling of an impending collision with a rabbit, instead of chasing after the animal instantly, Four stood stock still. His arms were tensed by his side, ready for action. Just as the rabbit shot past Four, unaware of any danger, Four darted out his hand, catching the rabbit by the scruff of its neck.

A single twist and snap later, the rabbit was dead. The act made Four feel slightly sick, familiar revulsion spewing through his veins. But it was kill or starve and Four had no intention of compromising his survival.

Dennis, who had been standing a few metres away from Four, watching the hunt, smiled. “Well then, that’s dinner sorted, but how are we gonna cook the damn thing.”

Four looked up at Dennis, “I thought you were a mage, don’t you have some magical flames or something.”

“Hah, I wish,” replied Dennis, laughing softly. “An ability to do anything like that would be something I’d receive around level twenty. There’s no way in hell I could do it now. Even using all of my current mana, I’d be unlikely to create more than a spark.”

“Well, Four replied, I guess we’ll have to set out some kindling and hope the spark’s enough. I read about how to set up a fire in a book once.”

For around twenty minutes, Four and Dennis walked around the forest, gathering stones, twigs and an array of dry leaves. Four placed the stones in a crude circle, mindful that the fire was kept away from the heavier brush. Balancing twigs into a cone-like shape, Four did his best to imitate the picture of a fire he had seen in the book so long ago. Finally, when this was done, Four dropped the dry leaves over his construction, hoping they would serve as adequate kindling. Standing back, Four admired his masterpiece of engineering. Seeing Four’s expression Dennis brandished his hands flamboyantly: “Time to light her up,” he grinned.

Moving slightly backwards, Four watched in anticipation as Dennis gestured wildly at the soon to be fire. Channelling all of his mana, Dennis began to break out in a sweat, his face turning a ghostly white. This was much more difficult than he’d previously imagined. Not one to give up, Dennis slowly herded his mana through his body and into his finger, the steady trickle growing larger and larger. Triumphant, Dennis pushed the purple haze through his finger, his entire mana reserve, willing a spark to appear.

Jolting from Dennis’ finger, a pure white electric spark shot through the sky. It would certainly be enough to light the fire, thought Four. The spark shot through the air, spinning and cartwheeling like a falling star, before landing directly on top of one of the stones that encircled the fire.

“Shit…” Dennis groaned.