“Okay, I guess I owe you one. See you.” Rowan once again moved to leave, but this time sped up as fast as he could. A master illusionist the Dark Merchant may be, or at least Rowan assumed, but he couldn’t match the sheer speed of a man with a skill literally called [Movement].

In less than a blink, he was out of the garish hidden mansion and was back out on the dark streets. You see, the thing about favors and promises is that you aren’t beholden to them. You can just lie. Which is what Rowan was planning on doing before the whole magic contract thing snapped into place. Luckily, all it specified was that he owed the merchant a favor, it never said he had to stay and listen to what it was.

“As much as I would like to yell at you right now, that was some pretty quick thinking. I guess this is partially my fault for assuming you knew about binding contracts. In fairness, I didn’t even consider you wouldn’t have known about them. Wait, do you not have them on Earth? Or were you just not thinking again?” Vorn asked suspiciously.

“They are binding in a legal sense, but not physically binding, no. Though, the legal chains can be worse than physical ones. Obviously nothing overtly magical like this. In terms of spoken word agreements, though, they work exclusively on trust on Earth.”

“Why would anyone trust an agreement like that?” Vorn asked incredulously.

“Because sometimes that’s all the reassurance you can get. If you're willing to burn a relationship, any promise can become profit. Granted, strategies like that should be used sparingly and only against people you never plan to see again.” Rowan explained.

“You sound like a conman. Where did you learn this stuff?”

“I was a con man, though really I was more of a con boy. I never was much good at it, either. My talents were more… Focused.”

“Let me guess, on punching stuff?”

“You know me well.”

After that short exchange, their conversation petered out while Rowan focused on running home and shaking any potential tails.

All things considered, this was a very profitable endeavor. It did mean they had possibly the biggest underworld merchant against them, but he wouldn’t try to kill them or anything. One, they were a Unique Being and were well known at this point. And two, Rowan did still owe the man a favor that he could cash at any time, so long as he could ask it of them.

However, this did mean that he would have to avoid the merchant and his men like the plague, assuming his men could act as a messenger for said favor. And he probably just burned any and all bridges to the black market.

Oh well, it was probably nothing to worry about. On a totally unrelated note, it was also about time they started thinking about which dungeon they should enter next. They weren’t ranked very highly, and Rowan doubted their performance got them a promotion. Actually, he should probably check where they currently stood with the Guild. That dilation stunt may have gotten them demoted, even.

Rowan, still running at his max speed, pulled out his Delver Identification Card, which he refused to use the acronym for. Again, no reason.

Voran, Level 27 Spellblade.

Race: Unique | Rank: B0 | Path Rarity: Epic

There was more information on the card than that, but he only cared about the first two rows. Everything past that was just information that the Guild found useful, like dungeons cleared, level of trust, etc.

At least their rank hadn’t gone down.

— — —

The next morning, they headed back to the Guild, but not before stopping at an actual supplies shop. They spent a fair amount of money on dried provisions and could store a, frankly, ridiculous amount. Usually in most expeditions, water took up the most space and weighed the most.

Vorn could literally summon water out of the air. It didn’t even rely on magic humidifier powers, he was just straight up summoning water from mana. Granted, according to Blythe that water wouldn’t be here permanently and would return back to being mana over time. A process that took, oh, just about three hundred years. Apparently, mana-created matter had a pretty slow half-life.

By the time water evaporated back into mana, it would have already long been used and processed by your body. You could literally survive on nothing but mana water with no consequences. Some things were just so much more convenient here. Granted, being blessed with magic was pretty rare, so it wasn’t a get-out-of-jail-free card for everybody.

All in all, it didn’t take them very long to get the supplies they needed, and they had enough food to feed a very small army. More of a camp, maybe.

Anyway, there was no possible way Ark could yell at them over this now.

— — —

“Huh. So you're telling me you have rope, food, and other essentials packed away in there. Sounds responsible. Suspiciously responsible.” Ark narrowed her eyes.

“Ha ha. You made a good point, and we listened.” Vorn put his hands up, admitting she was right. A tough call, and one he was sure he would regret.

“You’re damn right I was right! Ignoring the fact that I also forgot provisions and only remembered for our trip to the Jade Forest, I don’t make mistakes.” Ark said, the very picture of smug superiority. Vorn knew she was acting for the sake of a bit, but she really could pull the face well.

“Anyway, are you sure you already want to go into another dungeon? You don’t have anyone to talk to or something? What about your mentors?” Ark, as always, asked pertinent questions.

“Uh, we totally remembered them. Conveniently, since we were only in the dungeon for a day, I still have like… One… Day. Okay, so we might have to call off the delve.” Vorn realized he may have slightly lost track of time. Oops.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. And just when I thought my responsibility was starting to wear off on you.” Ark sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. How she managed to look so genuinely disappointed was a mystery, though. Maybe she was an actor in her spare time?

— — —

Unfortunately for Rowan, with another day to burn, that meant one thing. More reading.

This time, though, Vorn pulled out something that wasn’t an academic paper or other – As Ark would so politely put it – nerd shit. He pulled out a mystery thriller and set to reading. He remembered Rowan’s favorite genre.

Rowan relaxed a little in the comfiest chair he could make out of mental energy and reclined backward as Vorn began to read aloud. Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad.

— — —

The next day, they made it to the surprisingly intact training grounds where they first met their instructors. The ground that was previously destroyed by Vorn’s testing was completely flat and even had grass growing on it. All in five days.

Impressive.

They walked into the rickety shack out front and were met, to both of their surprise, with Blythe and Falnier having a discussion over tea. Rowan wasn’t aware that his instructor – Or demonic Elf if you wanted to use Vorn’s terms – would be here.

“Oh, how lovely of you two to drop by! I wasn’t sure you would remember, being busy Delvers and all. How has your spellcraft come along, Vorn?” Blythe asked in his typical jovial fashion.

Before he could answer, Falnier threw a knife at their face.

Rowan swiftly took over and dodged, but only barely.

“Now, that was rude. At least wait until it’s your turn.” Blythe complained lightly.

“Fair point, I’ll wait until you're done.” The Elf acquiesced easily.

Rowan relaxed ever so slightly, and before he could blink another knife was already traveling at high speeds towards his face. A sheet of ice materialized in front of him, slowing it down enough for him to dodge.

Before he could say anything, Blythe cuffed Falnier on the back of the head, “What did I just say!”

“Sorry, habit.” Falnier said apologetically.

‘Just what kind of teacher did you have to be for that to become a habit?’ Vorn couldn’t help but think.

“That sheet of ice materialized quickly! I take it you have been experimenting with sorcery?” Blythe asked excitedly.

“Uh, actually, not really. It just comes naturally to me.” Vorn said, scratching his head.

“Well, I suppose that is to be expected, it is sorcery. This may be a personal question but I’m guessing you're a bloodline sorcerer instead of an initialized one?”

It was a personal question, but it wasn’t one Vorn minded answering. The difference was simple and relatively obvious from the name. Bloodline sorcerers had sorcerers in their lineage, and initialized sorcerers were first-generation people who got it from the System. There was another class, Newblood Sorcerers, first-generation sorcerers that had magic in their blood naturally, but they were so rare that a distinction rarely needed to be made.

“Ah, yes I am. On my mother’s side.” Vorn said.

“And you got her talent? That’s quite rare my boy, only one in ten thousand get magical talent from their mothers!” Blythe said enthusiastically.

“Yeah, I know. I hedged my bets on being a mage because I thought I wouldn’t get any of her talent. I’m glad I was wrong.” Vorn said, slightly emotional. He hadn’t thought about it, but he did get his mother’s talent, didn’t he? Of all the classes he was offered, most of them were sorcery related and powerful. He had a little bit of her in him after all.

That brought his thoughts back to what was said to Rowan when he first arrived on Hyal’bern. That the body he was invading was destined to be mediocre. Would Vorn really have taken a mage class, even a terrible one, over a powerful sorcery one? It’s possible that the Goddess was just lying to make Rowan feel better about taking over some guy’s body, but Vorn doubted it.

Vorn knew himself pretty well, and thinking about it, he probably would have taken the mage class instead. He was prideful to a fault and stubborn as a mule. He would have become a mage out of spite to everyone who said he couldn’t. Gods, what a terrible decision that would have been.

“I know how you feel, my boy. I have cherish the talent I inherited from my father just as much, and I hope my son feels the same way when I’m gone. It’s a special bond.” Blythe said with a gentle smile. Gods, this man was such a ray of sunshine.

“Now, why don’t you start asking your questions so Falnier can beat your other half into the dirt, I know they're both waiting impatiently!”

— — —

“Nice armor. I’m glad you finally invested in some protection, it cannot be overstated how important keeping yourself protected is. Even a sliver of armor can be utilized when you’re fighting at a high level.” Falnier complimented.

“You haven’t even seen the best part!” Rowan said with a grin, before pulling out his new twin tantos.

“Hmm. Armor piercing and fiercely sharp. Another great find. I think the armor is still better. Now, show me if you can use those expensive implements.”

Rowan rushed off, attacking for all he was worth.

He unleashed a flurry of cuts, but the crazy Elf flowed around every attack like water, bending and contorting in impossible ways. Rowan was getting excited!

His blood was pumping, and he could feel [Thrill] activating. A jolt of ice-cold System-enhanced adrenaline rushed through him and he sped up even more.

Rowan couldn’t even see most of his own attacks, but he could feel them! His feet dug furrows into the ground, and his joints strained from the pressure he was putting on them. However, Falnier was forced to back up and actually start dodging instead of just contorting.

He was keeping his stats at a similar level to Rowan, he was just so much better that he could dodge every attack before his adrenaline skill kicked in.

Rowan was starting to get pissed off. He still couldn’t land a hit!

‘Fuck it, he can handle this!’ Rowan thought to himself before deciding to treat this spar as a battle to the death. He wouldn’t actually kill him. He couldn’t, so it was fine.

His attacks all started gravitating to joints, arteries, and vital organs. Falnier accepted this change of pace with grace and began dodging even more elegantly.

Rowan felt a few cuts begin forming on his arms. Falnier started attacking back! Finally!

He could feel his blood pumping even harder. Everything was a blur, literally. He was moving so quickly that he physically could not keep up purely with his eyes anymore. [Movement] let him keep up nonetheless.

“Argh! Will you stop fucking dodging!” Rowan shouted before attacking even more ferociously. His attacks were flung with wild abandon, not even attempting to target anything specific. He was just trying to hurt Falnier. Faintly, past the blood rushing in his ears, he could hear a buzzing sound. It told him to stop. That he was being irrational. Rowan ignored it, what did the buzzing know?

He was using his tantos like a beast would use their claws, to hunt and kill. Kicks and punches joined the flurry of blows, and he even attempted to bite the Elf’s hands whenever they struck at him. Rowan wanted the man in front of him dead.

Falnier remained perfectly calm. He was forced on the back foot, but he didn’t seem to care. He even began getting the occasional cut, but it healed so quickly that Rowan couldn’t revel in it.

“AH! WHY WON’T YOU DIE!”

Blood from the numerous wounds crisscrossing his body coated over half his skin, and the buzzing threatened to stop him. Hah! Rowan would like to see it try.

He could feel ice-cold adrenaline warring with his blood that felt like molten iron. His heart was running so quickly that he couldn’t make out individual beats. Rowan didn’t bother keeping his eyes open, but if he had, he would’ve noticed a greenish tinge.

His body felt like a blur, even to him, but he couldn’t give up. He had to go faster! He had to kill this goddamn Elf! In the blur, he noticed the elf make a hand sign at him. After that, the incessant buzzing finally stopped. He was almost tempted to thank the Elf, but he would settle for just killing him as painlessly as possible.

Rowan could feel himself flagging. That wouldn’t do, no, that wouldn’t do at all! He reached deep within himself, toward the seat of his True Vitality. Where he felt his [Last Stand] title take his very lifespan. There, he felt a… Core? The core was surrounded by True Vitality and absolutely saturated in Vital Energy.

He ripped as much Vital Energy as he could from the core and forced it into [Regeneration]. He could feel the Vital Energy resisting, but Rowan was the master of his body and everything in it. His wounds began healing faster, but Rowan rebelled against the waste of [Regeneration’s] power.

He grabbed the energy and forced it into his lungs, heart, and muscles. He didn’t need to heal his injuries, he needed to fight longer!

Blood covered almost every inch of him, and his neon orange eyes were now a malevolent slitted viridian. A bark-like substance began growing in patches on his skin.

He would kill this Elf, and he would rip his body to pieces if it was the last thing he did. No longer was his rage burning in his veins, instead, it was as if his body had been dropped into an ice bath. He needed to kill this Elf. Rowan was superior, there was no other truth that he would accept.

Rowan’s entire body was just shy of being entirely coated with blood. His adrenaline had reached its peak.

Rowan’s strength reached an even higher level as he ripped more Vital Energy from the strange core. He could feel his body starting to break down, but regeneration was fixing the damage to his muscles as it accumulated. His external wounds were still absolutely pissing blood, but he didn’t give a single shit about that.

His feet moved faster than he could perceive and left trails of upturned and dented earth behind him. His arms moved so quickly that all he could hear was the whistling of his blades. His world was dark, but the movement of the mana and air around him sang to him, telling him exactly how he needed to move.

The great forest just outside of the walls whispered of more power should he just reach out and grasp it. All he needed to do was kill this Elf.

Great! He was already planning on doing that!

The bark on his skin began expanding.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he started to catch up to his instructor. Falnier was taking more and more damage, all the while leaving shallow cuts that Rowan couldn’t even feel. He was winning! He would turn this Elf to dust!

Then, he fell.

The cuts he had been ignoring had piled up in key areas on his joints and tendons, and he could no longer move. His body had given out on him.

He wanted to rage, to scream, but as the adrenaline drained out of him, he couldn’t find the energy to do even that.

Suddenly, a blast of water hit him. As the blood faded off of him and into the dirt, as the bark receded back into his skin, clarity returned to his mind.

What was he doing! He tried to kill his instructor!

“Hmm, two berserk skills that can work in tandem? That wouldn’t make sense… Unless he has a perk? Or a title? Bark and green eyes… Elenia? Perhaps…” Falnier was talking to himself quietly.

“I’m so sorry!” Rowan rasped out, vehemently apologetic. He couldn’t believe he had lost control like that! That was the worst he had ever been taken over by rage and battle, even in his past life, something like that had never happened.

“No worries, I’m fine.” He opened his arms, showing the myriad cuts already closing at rapid speed. “I’d be more worried about yourself.” Falnier said with a steely gaze.

For the first time in either of his lives, Rowan was intimidated.