Nearly every single one of my stats had jumped by ten points. Charisma went down.

  Seeing how I still didn't receive the rewards, the village mission must still be going on.

  I hadn’t leveled up. I hadn’t trained. I hadn’t done anything to warrant this.

  There was only one explanation.

  The Corrupted Mana.

  I glanced down at my left arm, the violet cracks still pulsing faintly. The system had recognized it as an energy source.

  But the strangest part?

  Both Mana and Corrupted Mana had been unlocked at the same time.

  What does that even mean?

  Could I use both? Did they fight against each other? Were they connected somehow?

  I had no idea.

  But I didn’t have time to sit here and figure it out.

  I turned toward the passage I had entered from, retracing my steps through the dark, damp tunnel. My body still felt weak, my arm throbbing with a pain that refused to settle, but I pushed forward.

  The ruined wooden door I had broken through earlier was still in pieces. Beyond it, the underground cavern and the well’s stone walls stretched high above me.

  I had to climb out.

  And considering how deep this place was—that wasn’t happening with just normal strength.

  I exhaled slowly, my gaze flickering back to my status window.

  I had unlocked it. Whatever that meant.

  Now was as good a time as any to test it.

  I adjusted my stance, bending my knees slightly before activating Phantom Stride.

  But this time—

  I pushed Corrupted Mana into it.

  A pulse of dark energy surged through my legs—violent, raw, unstable.

  I moved.

  Faster.

  Way faster.

  The force launched me upward, my body slamming against the stone wall as I kicked off with each step, I grabbed onto stones poking out till the skill use duration reset. Every two seconds, I activated Phantom Stride again, propelling myself higher and higher.

  The momentum was insane.

  But so was the pain.

  It was tearing me apart.

  I could feel the corrupted energy digging into my muscles, forcing them to work beyond their limits. The sensation was unlike anything I had ever felt—like my body wasn’t my own anymore, like something else was forcing it to move.

  By the time I reached the top, I could barely breathe.

  With a final push, I lunged over the edge, collapsing onto the ground beside the well.

  I groaned, gripping my left leg. It burned.

  The strain was immense. If I kept using Corrupted Mana like that, I wouldn’t last long in a fight.

  But the moment I stopped using it, a new thought hit me.

  The healing skill.

  I gritted my teeth and raised my hand.

  It was shaky, weak, but I forced myself to focus.

  "Activate Low-Grade Healing."

  For a moment, nothing happened.

  Then—

  A faint, pale glow formed around my hands.

  Unlike Corrupted Mana, this felt… natural. Warm, even.

  But magic didn’t work instantly.

  I focused. Pushed the energy toward my legs.

  The pain didn’t disappear, but it dulled. The strain from using Corrupted Phantom Stride eased slightly, my muscles feeling just a bit lighter.

  I checked my status.

  I used way more normal mana than Corrupted Mana.

  I sighed, shaking my head. That just meant I needed more practice.

  But at least now, I knew something.

  Healing magic worked. It wouldn’t fully repair me, but if I used it properly, I could lessen the damage from Corrupted Mana.

  I let out a slow breath, rolling my shoulder. Good enough.

  Then I felt a presence.

  I looked up.

  Cael was approaching.

  The battlefield was silent.

  No more enemies. No more fighting. Just him—walking toward me, his sword sheathed, his expression as unreadable as ever.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  I sat up, flexing my fingers instinctively.

  His eyes flickered once to my left arm.

  For a second, I expected a reaction. A question. A demand for an explanation.

  But he said nothing.

  Instead, he picked up a cloth—one from the bodies of the fallen enemies—and tossed it toward me.

  I caught it instinctively.

  We locked eyes.

  I understood.

  Without a word, I wrapped the cloth around my corrupted arm, covering the glowing violet cracks.

  Cael gave a small nod.

  Then, without another glance, he turned away.

  I let out a slow, shaky breath.

  I had no idea what just happened to me.

  But whatever this was—Cael didn’t want anyone else seeing it.

  Just as I tightened the cloth around my arm, a familiar buzz rang in my skull.

  The system window popped up, its glitched edges flickering for a moment before stabilizing.

  I exhaled, my muscles still aching from the insane amount of strain I had put myself through.

  Then, the rewards started rolling in.

  My eyes widened slightly. Mid-Tier skills?

  The last two skills I had gotten—**Arc Step and Phantom Stride—**were both low-tier. If these new ones were stronger, this could be huge.

  The system flickered again, listing my new skills one by one.

  I clenched my fists.

  These weren’t just useful—they were exactly the kind of things I needed.

  Heavy Blade would help me go on the offensive, Shadow Veil gave me a way to move unseen, and Shock Pulse could create openings in a fight.

  The system flickered one last time before closing out—

  But then, a new buzz rang through my head, followed by another wave of system notifications.

  My vision blurred for a second as the changes settled in. A familiar sense of power flooding through me, my body feeling just a bit lighter, stronger—more refined.

  I opened my status window.

  I had completely skipped Level 3, landing right at Level 4.

  The system followed up with a new message.

  Three mid-tier skills from the mission, two more skills from leveling up, 10 unallocated stat points, and my corrupted mana now unlocked—

  I was changing fast.

  I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.

  Or something I should be terrified of.

  I exhaled, my mind still racing as I read over my updated skill list.

  Neither of these were as strong as the mid-tier skills I had just gotten, but they were useful.

  Quick Guard gave me a better chance to react in a fight, and Mana Sense…

  I glanced at my left arm.

  Would it let me understand this thing better?

  For the first time since the attack, the village was quiet.

  Not the eerie silence of death or fear, but the soft hum of rebuilding. The scent of burning wood still lingered in the air, but it mixed with the freshness of the earth as villagers cleared rubble, repaired what they could, and tended to the wounded.

  I leaned against a half-broken fence, my body still aching from everything I had been through. My left arm was wrapped in cloth, concealing the glowing cracks that pulsed faintly beneath. It still hurt, but at least it wasn’t completely useless.

  The villagers had been hesitant around me at first—some stealing wary glances, others whispering. I didn’t blame them. A random outsider had fought alongside them, killed intruders, and somehow survived things that should’ve killed him.

  But eventually, the tension melted.

  As I helped lift fallen beams, gather supplies, and assist the injured, I felt the shift in their gazes.

  No more fear. No more whispers.

  Just quiet gratitude.

  "Careful with that!" one of the older men, Gareth, called out as I helped lift a broken wooden cart. "Your arm still looks like hell."

  I smirked. "You should see the other guys."

  A few chuckles rippled around us. Humor was a good sign. It meant they weren’t just mourning—they were moving forward.

  As we worked, I spoke with the villagers, learning their names, their families, their stories. Most had lived here their whole lives, never knowing the outside world. This village was their everything.

  And I had almost watched it burn.

  Later in the evening, I found Elira near what remained of her house, sorting through supplies. Her usual sharp expression was softer than usual, her movements slow with exhaustion.

  “You okay?” I asked, stepping beside her.

  She glanced at me, then back at the crates. "I should be asking you that."

  I shrugged. “I’ve been worse.”

  She sighed, placing down a bundle of herbs. "Still, you should be resting."

  I leaned against the wooden railing, watching the village. “I will.” Then, after a moment, I hesitated. "...I need to talk to you about something."

  She turned fully to face me, something in my tone catching her attention.

  "I’m leaving," I said quietly. "In two days."

  Elira froze.

  The soft clatter of supplies stopped.

  Her fingers curled slightly around the cloth she had been folding, her usual calm expression faltering. "...So soon?"

  I nodded.

  Cael had reminded me earlier—the capital was waiting. This was never supposed to be permanent.

  For a long moment, she said nothing. Then, she let out a breath and forced a small, lopsided smile.

  “Well... I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised."

  But her voice held a sadness she couldn’t quite hide.

  I looked away, the weight of the moment settling in.

  Leaving was necessary.

  But that didn’t mean it was easy.