Talax wandered through the eerily quiet city with a sense of urgency, feeling like a fugitive. He glanced around every corner and down every dark alleyway, paranoid that someone might be following him.
As he made his way deeper into the city, the narrow streets grew more cramped and claustrophobic. The air was thick with the stench of rotting garbage and sewage, making Talax's stomach churn. The sickly yellow light of the few flickering lanterns barely penetrated the darkness, leaving him stumbling blindly through the maze-like streets.
Every so often, the sounds of raucous laughter and drunken singing would drift out from a nearby tavern, the voices of the patrons slurring into one another in a cacophony of noise. As his exhaustion mounted, he was tempted several times to stop by an inn and ask for a bed in exchange for labor. However, he thought it was more prudent to lay low and avoid any potentially dangerous situations that could reveal his identity.
Perhaps he was overthinking and taking unnecessary measures. Maybe the death of a lowly scribe wouldn't alarm anyone. But in case someone started looking into the murder of the old man, he didn't want to leave any traces. He didn't know enough about the city and how the guards reacted to a killing. In the end, he decided to take as many precautions as possible, even if it meant spending the night on the streets.
The moon was barely visible through the murky clouds that blanketed the sky, casting eerie shadows on the ground below. Talax's imagination ran wild, seeing shapes and creatures in every shadow, causing his heart to race and his palms to sweat. His already strained psyche barely hung by a thread, ready to snap at any moment leaving him a pathetic, sniveling mess laying in the middle of the filthy street.
His journey was interrupted as he stumbled upon a gruesome sight, the corpse of a rat that had been partially eaten by its brethren, who scurried away as he approached. The sight made him gag, and he quickly turned away, hoping to avoid any more gruesome discoveries.
Talax's fatigue was almost overwhelming at this point, his legs feeling as though they might give out at any moment. The knife wound kept shooting him piercing stabs as if to remind him of its existence and his earlier fight with Bene. Suddenly, he felt himself stumble over a loose cobblestone and landed hard on the ground. His breath was knocked out of him as he sprawled into a pool of sludge that clung to his skin like a second layer. He scrambled to his feet, cursing and wiping the filth from his face.
He was ready to give up and accept defeat, his battered body unable to keep going. But as he rounded a corner, a shaft of moonlight pierced through the clouds, illuminating a small side street that he would have overlooked otherwise. Crates and barrels crowded the narrow passage, ending in a dead end.
His heart pounded with relief as he forced his legs to move, his muscles burning with the effort. He reached the small mountain of crates and barrels and clambered up them, the wood groaning under his weight. His bones protested with every movement, but he pushed on, his determination fueled by his need for rest.
Finally, he reached the other side and squeezed through a small gap between two crates. The enclosed space was cramped, but it offered some measure of safety. Talax let out a shuddering sigh of relief as he sank down onto the dirty floor, his body trembling with exhaustion.
He leaned back against a sturdy crate, feeling the rough wood digging into his back. Despite the discomfort, he attempted to make himself as comfortable as possible, his eyes flickering closed as he tried to drift off into sleep.
As he hugged his knees, trying to make himself as small as possible under the shadows, he felt a surge of mana echoing inside his core. It was like a burst of lightning, crackling through his veins and igniting his senses. His eyes flew open, wide with excitement and wonder, and he remembered the multiple surges that had occurred during his fight with the old man. Despite his circumstances, he felt a surge of excitement and looked into his core, feeling elated.
Next to his original skill, scribing, he noticed five more sprouts, like a small garden that had just started to bloom. Like a small kid that couldn’t wait to open his presents he focused on his new skills one by one.
Brawling skill, level 2
2% to strength while in unarmed combat
Short blades skill, level 1
1% to attack, 1% blade penetration
Evasion skill, level 1
1% to reflexes, 1% to agility
Natural defense skill, level 2
2% to pain resistance, 2% to skin thickness
Stealth skill, level 1
1% to noise reduction, 1% to hiding
“Wow” Talax whispered seeing his massive gains after his short but intense fight with Bene. In just a few short minutes he had managed to gain four new skills, while the stealth skill must have been acquired a moment ago when he hid in the shadows of the building.
All five skills were incredibly useful. With the brawling skill he could now go toe to toe in a fist fight, although he was still skeptical even if he had an increase in strength while fighting, since his body was still frail and unable to put much force behind his attacks.
The short blades skill was also more than welcome, since his only weapon was the old knife that Bene used to cut his fruits. The evasion and natural defense skills gave him a much-needed boost to his survivability. His chances of surviving the next fight just shot through the roof and he was more than thankful, he was ecstatic.
Lastly, the stealth skill gave him an edge to slip out of town unnoticed. As soon as he resumed his escape, he was gonna be using the skill as much as he could.
He marveled at his new skills, feeling a rush of excitement and pride. He had managed to gain new skills that he knew would be vital for his upcoming journey into the unknown wilderness full of beasts and bandits. The thought of the dangers that awaited him only fueled his determination to be ready for whatever lay ahead.
Out of curiosity, he pinched his arm, wanting to test the limits of his new natural defense skill, but his disappointment was as instantaneous as the pain. He massaged the reddened skin and sighed dejectedly. His skin didn't feel any different, and the amount of pain felt, wasn't muted at all.
With his curiosity sated, he leaned back and closed his eyes. The world around him faded away. He was lost in his own thoughts for long moments with images of Bene flashing in his mind every so often. At some point, sleep found him, releasing him from the endless loop of reliving his fight with the old man.
Suddenly, Talax was jolted awake by the sound of wild shouts and metal clanging. His heart raced as he tried to figure out where he was and what was happening. It took a few moments for his mind to clear, and the memories of the previous night flooded back into his mind.
As he peered through the crack in the crate, Talax could see the first rays of sunlight breaking through the darkness, casting a soft glow on everything around him. The shouts grew louder, and the clanging of metal became more intense as the noise drew closer.
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In the entrance of the narrow alleyway, the air was thick with tension as three menacing men stood, each wielding a different weapon. The first thug clutched a long knife, its jagged edge glinting dangerously in the dim light. The second held a rusted short sword, its metal blade pitted and scarred from years of abuse. The last man's grip was on a pitchfork, its sharp prongs glimmering with malevolent intent. They had the air of seasoned killers, their eyes glinting with a fierce and cruel light.
But their opponent was an intimidating figure in his own right. He towered over them, with a massive frame and bulging muscles that rippled with each movement. His skin had a strange tint, Talax could make out a greenish hue in an otherwise human looking skin. However, his most striking feature was the pair of tusks that protruded from his lower jaw, like those of a wild boar.
“You filthy animal, you should have given us back our money. Now it's too late, you are a dead man.”
“Jensen, I want his tusks after we skin him. Hahahaha. I will hang them above my bed. It will impress all the ladies!”
“Since the toothpick you call for a cock can’t do the job, I will gift them to you. Hahahaha.”
The two thugs kept exchanging insults while the third seemed to take the fight more seriously. As the three thugs closed in on him, the towering man stood his ground with an unyielding determination, his stone-cold face betraying no emotion. But his occasional growls hinted at the rage boiling within him.
With a fierce battle cry, the man with the sword charged forward, his blade glinting in the light. The other two men followed closely behind, their weapons poised to strike. The greenish humanoid held a crude wooden club, scarred and worn from previous battles, trying to defend against all three human opponents. The men had bloodthirsty smiles on their faces and rained down jabs and thrusts on their enemy, who used his club with surprising dexterity to deflect their attacks.
The air was thick with the sound of metal clanging against wood, the thud of boots against pavement, and the grunts of exertion from both sides. The humanoid's impressive strength allowed him to hold off the attackers for a while, but it was clear that his wooden club wouldn't hold out for much longer. Chips of wood flew away with each hit of the metal weapons, and the cracks in the club grew larger with each blow.
Suddenly, with a loud crack, the club broke into pieces, making the thugs holler in laughter.
“You beasts don’t belong in our city, after we kill you, we’ll send you to the slaughterhouse to be butchered among the pigs!” the thugs taunted, their laughter echoing off the surrounding walls.
The greenish man grunted in frustration, chugging away the remains of his club. His bloodied and battered form showed no sign of giving up, and he spoke for the first time.
“Here, take your money and leave me alone,” he said, taking out a pouch and throwing a few silver coins on the ground.
But the thugs only laughed at his offer, their eyes gleaming with a perverse pleasure. "It's too late for that," said the one with the sword, and he lunged forward, aiming for the tusked man’s heart. The greenish man reacted with lightning speed, raising his forearm to deflect the blow. The sword sliced deep into his arm, drawing blood, but it did not penetrate any further.
Seizing the opportunity, the second thug plunged his long knife into the humanoid's side, eliciting a bellow of pain. Blood spurted from the wound, staining the man's shirt and pants. But even as he staggered back, he refused to give up. With a mighty roar, he yanked the knife from his ribs and hurled it to the ground. His tusks gleamed in the dim light, and his eyes blazed with fury as he prepared to face his attackers once more.
Talax's heart pounded with adrenaline as he watched the fight unfold before him. The thugs were quick and agile, their movements, however, were clumsy and uncoordinated. Despite their shortcomings the three humans seemed to be aware of their weaknesses and tried to compensate by working as a unit. Talax couldn't help but be impressed by their teamwork and fighting style, despite their crude and thuggish demeanor.
With a frown, Talax weighed his options. He knew that he was vastly outnumbered and outmatched, but he also knew that he couldn't just stand by and watch the violence unfold. He took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing thoughts. He relaxed his mind and looked to his core; he studied his skills, trying to find something useful but came up empty-handed. His void magic was equally useless at this point, as his mana was insufficient to cast the only spell he knew.
Frustration threatened to overwhelm him, until a sudden realization struck him - his gates! He had almost forgotten about them in his desperation. He looked inward and examined his gates. The gate at his right hand was bustling with mana! The accumulation was at such a state that if he focused, he could feel his channels ready to burst from the pressure. With the slightest intent, he commanded the mana to pass through the gate.
A euphoric feeling that he had never experienced before blossomed throughout his body. A calming energy, filled with life and comfort, enveloped his exhausted body, prompting him to sigh in bliss. His cells gorged on refined energy, and gradually, the soothing feeling subsided.
Talax looked again at his mana channels and realized in delight that he had enough mana to open the second gate at his hand. With a quick nudge, the rest of his accumulated mana surged through the gate near his palm. The same refreshing feelings overwhelmed his senses, and he allowed them to sweep him away for a few fleeting moments, even if a fight was happening right next to him.
When the energy had dispersed, he looked once more at his channels, but this time his mana seemed to flow lazily around his body. Even so, he could see that his right hand with the gates opened seemed to possess a far larger amount than the rest of his body. The channels looked larger and more robust, able to hold a considerable amount of mana.
As he opened his eyes, he was surprised to notice a rush of energy surging through his body. He felt more agile, more alive than ever before. The world around him seemed to slow down as he examined himself in detail. His muscles were more prominent, his skin glowing with newfound vigor. He cracked his neck, and a wave of relief washed over him as he felt the stiffness and pain of his injuries fade away into a distant memory.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped out from behind the crates, and to his delight, his body moved with a newfound fluidity. He swung his fist with ease, and the air around him trembled with each strike. The blows were faster and more powerful than ever before, capable of delivering deadly damage to any opponent.
Energized by his newfound strength, he turned back to the ongoing fight. The humanoid creature was covered in wounds, each a testament to the fierceness of the battle. The humans, though battered and bruised, were still standing, fighting with all they had. The man who served as the vanguard stood at the front, his face a mask of determination. Despite the large bruise on his face and the trickle of blood from his mouth, he refused to give in to the pain. The sneering smile had been replaced by a grim expression devoid of any pleasantness, but there was a fire in his eyes that spoke of his bloodthirsty spirit.
The three humans moved quickly and smoothly, their movements fluid and precise as they circled their prey like vultures. Their eyes glinted with a fierce determination as they closed in, each man taking a different angle of attack. Their muscles tensed and their breath came out in sharp, ragged bursts as they prepared to strike.
The humanoid man let out a guttural roar and charged the human to his left with the force of a stampeding bull. The ground shook with each thunderous step as he barreled towards his prey, his massive frame intimidating. His speed caught the man off guard, and he was tackled to the ground with a thunderous impact. The other two men rushed towards the humanoid, their weapons at the ready.
The tusked man held the dazed human, his grip like a vise around the man's neck. The leader of the humans let out an animalistic scream as he drew his sword, his eyes fixed on his target. As he lunged with his sword, the green man grabbed his fallen comrade and used him as a shield.
The sword pierced through the thug's torso with a sickening sound, but the green man barely flinched. His hand was nicked by the blade, but the wound was nothing more than a minor annoyance. The leader of the humans let out a primal scream and drew his sword from his dead friend, his eyes blazing with fury.
With a fierce battle cry, he charged towards the humanoid, aiming for his head. But the green man had other plans. With a sudden burst of strength, he lifted the dead body and hurled it towards his attacker. The human was caught off guard, his sword falling from his grasp as he dodged the flying corpse.
As the human stumbled, the humanoid seized the opportunity to strike. With two massive steps, he closed the distance between them and delivered a crushing blow to the man's face. With a single punch to the face, the human fell unconscious on the ground, and with another blow, his head was split open like a cracked egg.
As all this unfolded, Talax realized that stealth and timing were his only chances of success. He climbed the crates cautiously, feeling like a monkey, and tried to make as little noise as possible. Once he was on the other side, and the thugs were still distracted, he slipped into the shadows that remained in the early morning. He followed the perimeter of the tall building, enveloped in darkness, and inched closer to the fight, waiting for his chance to strike.
The third thug was just as stealthy as Talax, moving with a predatory grace as he circled the unsuspecting humanoid. His eyes glinted with a cold determination as he readied his weapon, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.
Talax's breath caught in his throat as he stepped out of the shadows, his small knife glinting in the dim light. His heart was pounding so loudly he was sure the others could hear it.
With lightning-fast reflexes, Talax lunged towards his target. The man turned towards him, his eyes widening in shock as the small knife sank into his neck. The man's pitchfork clattered to the ground as he grasped at his throat, blood pouring from the wound. Talax watched with a sense of detached horror as the man's life slipped away, his body crumpling to the ground.
When the third thug collapsed on the ground, Talax observed the green man warily until he spoke.
“Stay away! I will stomp your skull till it explodes!” The tusked man bellowed with the soprano voice of a startled chimpunk, so at odds with his formidable physique.
After the fitful sleep, plagued by nightmares and his jarring awakening by the mad battle that had made him a nervous wreck, all he could do in response was burst into laughter.
“Ha, ha, ha, ha.”