Book 1: Chapter 5 - The Hermit [Part 2]

A tired-looking Frest returned about ten minutes later, escorting a bruised and defeated Giles at swordpoint.

"Right, I brought him back…" he wheezed, prodding Giles with the tip of his sword.

"You were supposed to cut him down, not bring him back. But perhaps this will work to my advantage," Seraphina replied sternly, running a hand through her hair. "Giles, for the last time, will you teach me the Heal spell?"

The old man said nothing, staring silently at the ground. With a shrug, Seraphina raised her crossbow and loosed a bolt into his gut. At this range she couldn’t miss.

The old man doubled over, screaming in agony, his cries echoing through the forest to the high heavens.

"Well, was that a yes or a no?" she asked again.

"No…" he rasped, blood staining his lips. "The song of the Covenant is not meant for scum like you," he managed to say between pained, gasping breaths.

Ignoring him, Seraphina turned and began walking toward the squat stone building. Her maid bowed quickly to the dying man before hurrying after her.

"Milady Seraphina!" Frest called out. "A gut wound is a terrible way to go."

Without turning, Seraphina replied, "I know, Corporal. Remember what I ordered earlier."

Silence followed, blessed and complete.

You have slain a Human 50 experience gained.

She crossed the threshold of the simple dwelling, her brow furrowed in thought. It seemed she could gain experience points just as if she were the protagonist. A small, secret part of her had feared that her strength might be limited by the story’s predetermined path.

But here, in this world, it seemed, she had true agency.

Of course, she never let something as inconvenient as a simple setting ever get in the way of her goals.

The inside of the building was surprisingly tidy, telling the story of a man who had lived alone in solitude within the woods. In one corner sat a simple straw bed, beside a small shrine to the Goddess, with incense burning at its side, filling the room with the scent of perfumed sandalwood. A small shelf lined one of the walls, holding a few well-worn books. A modest kitchen area and a large wooden table completed the setup. Altogether, it had a quaint, unpretentious charm.

There was a knock on the wooden door of the abode.

“Did him in, just like you asked… he was bawling something awful,” grumbled Frest as he stepped into the hermit’s home. “What are we here for, anyway? Thought you wanted him to teach you something… that’s going to be a wee bit difficult now.”

“Just watch if you must… but keep quiet,” Seraphina chided. “And next time, when I ask for something, I want it done immediately,” she added, tossing him a silver coin.

“Yes, milady!” Frest replied with a rakish grin, saluting her half-mockingly.

The young noblewoman surveyed the room before searching for something. Her eyes settled on the statue of the Goddess Avaria at the shrine.

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“Frest, Milly, move that statue, and whatever you do, don’t touch whatever you see underneath. If you do, I’ll skin you both,” she commanded.

Like whipped dogs, the pair scrambled to obey.

The statue was a facsimile of the Goddess of the Twin Blades, beautiful in its elegant simplicity, though mortal hands could never fully capture the perfection of a Divine. She wore a stola in the ancient fashion, the stone folds of the fabric seeming to ripple in an unseen breeze. A veil covered her eyes, and in her hands, she held the symbols of her power: the sword of justice in one hand and the dagger of mercy in the other.

With a groan of worn stone, they carefully and reverently moved the statue of the Goddess. Beneath it lay an extraordinary piece of parchment, inscribed with strange, eldritch runes that seemed to dance at the edge of perception. Patterns shifted upon the vellum, changing even as Seraphina stared. Her intuition had led her true; no further prompting was needed. She rushed forward, seizing the parchment with both hands.

In that instant, a flood of understanding poured into her. She saw not only how to gather Mana to will the soma into regrowth but also, to a limited degree, how to push back against the sands of time itself. The holy verse to correct the wrongs that should never have been and to restore balance to a cruel, unjust world.

You have learned Heal (lvl.1)

Finally! She had learned a magic spell, setting her above the vast majority of those without the Giftspark in Zed Valize. In addition, the Heal spell was from a school of magic that closely mirrored the powers the game’s protagonist was gifted with. But unlike her, Seraphina had actually worked hard to attain it.

It was also a wise choice of magic. While most other schools tended to lead practitioners down a path toward madness, the Divine school was a much safer option. According to in-game lore, its ‘Mana Song" tried to make the user more holy, encouraging virtues like generosity. But here was the catch: if she acted contrary to her magic’s nature, she could curb most, if not all, of its insidious influence. Even if she could not entirely resist the song, the worst outcomes she could expect were to be venerated as a saint or to end up in a nunnery.

“I guess that was the other way the old man could’ve taught you, right?” Frest inquired, a curious frown on his face.

“Exactly,” Seraphina replied, brushing the dust from her clothes. If she stayed here any longer, she’d feel the commonness of the place clinging to her.

“But… how did you know where to find it… just like that? And why did we have to kill him? We could have just taken it,” he pressed.

Seraphina gave him a long look, and Milly answered for her.

“She has the Sight!” Milly blurted.

“Thank you, Milly. I was certain he’d have that conclusion in time,” Seraphina sighed. “As for why he had to die—the Church of Avaria would not take kindly to a scion of a noble house seizing one of their precious scrolls. They want a monopoly on healing magic, after all.” She paused, wiping an imaginary bead of sweat from her brow. “Now then, we need to clean up this mess.”

“I’ll see if the old man has a shovel around here…” partially mollified, Frest offered resignedly.

“That won’t be necessary, Corporal. Milly, if you would, please,” Seraphina said, rolling her shoulders. That was the problem with larger…

“Milady… what?” murmured the maid, clutching her hands together helplessly.

Seraphina tapped her foot in irritation. Why was everyone so slow? “Dispose of Giles’s body,” she commanded.

“But…” Miriam whimpered.

“No ‘buts,’” Seraphina snapped. Then, turning to Frest, she added, “And you, stay inside the house until Milly is done.”

“And why would that be…?” he asked, sounding confused.

“Just stay in the house, Frest. You need to learn not to question me.”

With a resigned sigh, Miriam stepped outside, undoing the bow at the back of her traveling clothes. Her outer garments slipped to the ground. Quickly, Seraphina shut the door behind her.

“I think I’d like to see this. A little look can’t hurt…” Frest protested.

But he quickly fell silent as the unmistakable sound of bones cracking and animal-like growls came from outside. Gurgling and hissing noises drifted through the stone and wood walls of the house. Frest’s face went pale with horror.

“Still curious, Frest? Former member of the Stone Moons Bandits?” Seraphina asked, her voice edged with iron warning. “Do you truly wish to see? I assure you, nothing in your criminal past could prepare you for that.”

Frest swallowed hard, admitting, “I guess you’re right, milady.”

“And you will, of course, speak of this to no one. Understood?”

The former bandit nodded dumbly.

“For if you do… that will be the fate awaiting you,” Seraphina said, smiling with a beauty that starkly contrasted her dire threat.