The market was quieting now. Fewer soldiers bartered over dented helmets; more huddled around flickering fires, sharing low murmurs and pulls from rough looking wineskins. The energy had shifted from frantic commerce to weary repose, yet an undercurrent of tension remained. This place was a pressure cooker, always simmering with desperation and the potential for violence.
Luke navigated the thinning crowds, his new boots feeling solid but heavy on the packed earth. He needed to leave, get moving. The quest timer for “The Reaper of Souls” ticked relentlessly in the corner of his vision: 45 hours and change. Forty five hours to reach the Cliffs of Drono, a place spoken of in whispers, a place where the few bits of information he could gleam about it it seemed sensible folk avoided, and complete some unknown “Trial of Echoes.” Failure meant oblivion. No pressure.
He reached the edge of the sprawling camp. The last sputtering watchfire cast long, dancing shadows that seemed to claw at the darkness beyond. The vast, rolling expanse of the Broken Plains stretched out before him, swallowed by night, its features painted in monochrome by the twin moons, Drokta, now climbing high in the alien sky. Their pale light felt colder, less forgiving than Earth’s familiar moon. The names felt impossibly familiar, whispers from Earth’s forgotten lore somehow finding root in this alien sky. How? Why? Questions without answers, swallowed by the immensity of the task before him.
He paused, taking stock. He had the Wanderer’s Cuirass, the Provoker’s Helm, decent greaves and boots. And the Anelace, blades that felt unnervingly alive in his hands, humming with a latent potential tied to the shadowsteel they were forged from. His meager supplies included the rations Lestor had given him, a kindness Luke now felt a pang of guilt about, knowing he was striking out alone, and a waterskin refilled at a communal tap that tasted faintly of iron and desperation. It wasn’t much for a journey into the unknown.
He glanced at his updated stats one last time before heading out.
~ Character Status: Luke Renoka ~
~ Level: 8 ~
~ Class: Death Merchant (Provisional) ~
Note:
~Spells can be learned from outside your class via Tomes, Skillbooks, grimoires and through other special circumstances.~
~All spells learned outside the Death Mercant class have a reduced 75% effectiveness.~
~ Provisional Status: Must complete quest “The Reaper of Souls”. Permanent Death Penalty Active. ~
~ Attributes: ~
~ Vitality: 8 (7 Base + 1 Equipment) ~
~ Strength: 2 (Base) ~
~ Dexterity: 7 (Base) ~
~ Intelligence: 4 (Base) ~
~ Wit: 4 (3 Base + 1 Equipment) ~
~ Charisma: 3 (Base) ~
~ Attribute Points Available: 0 ~
~ Skills: ~
~ Class Skills (Death Merchant - Branch Two: Confusion/Deception): ~
~ - Truth Seeker (Rank 1): Probe target’s mind for information. May receive false details based on target Wit/Willpower vs Caster Wit. Cost: 20 Mana. Cooldown: 10s. ~
~ - Synaptic (Rank 1: Briefly cloud target’s thoughts, slowing reaction time and movement speed. Effect/Duration scales with Wit vs target Wit/Willpower. Cost: 30 Mana. Cooldown: 20s. ~
~ - Distortion (Rank 1): Temporarily induce blurred or warped vision in target. Effect/Duration scales with Wit vs target Wit/Willpower. Cost: 25 Mana. Cooldown: 15s. ~
~ General Skills: ~
~ - Pack Mule (Rank 2): Active. Triples carrying capacity. Concentration required. Weapons cannot be wielded. Duration/Concentration improves with rank. Cost: Sustained Stamina Drain. ~
~ - Basic Evasion (Rank 3): Passive. Minor increase to reaction time and dodge speed under duress. Stamina cost reduced slightly per rank. ~
~ - Basic Knife Proficiency (Rank 3: Passive. Increases effectiveness with dagger class weapons (Attack Speed, Accuracy). Unlocks basic combat maneuvers (requires practice). ~
~ Skill Points Available: 0 ~
~ Special: ~
~ - Mark of Fate (Provisional): Token of Fate’s interest. Potential dormant. ~
~ Inventory: ~
~ Equipped: Wanderers Cuirass(Chest), Calistas Analace(Pair, rare, Pact), Basic Boots, Provokers Helm (+1 wit). ~
~ Carried: Empty Sack, Waterskin (Half Full), Rations (Gifted). ~
~ Currency: 0 Copper, 0 Silver, 0 Gold. ~
He mentally activated his Pack Mule skill. The familiar notification chimed softly in his mind, and the perceived weight of his gear lessened, allowing him to move more freely, though the skill demanded a low level hum of concentration. Just as he was about to step beyond the firelight, into the whispering darkness of the plains, another system alert materialized, stark and unwelcome.
~ System Alert: Post Initiation Protocols Active ~
~ World Zone: Jefferson Imperium Forward Operations Base (Perimeter)~
~ Reminder: Death outside designated ‘Initiation Zones’ incurs penalties.~
~ Current Penalties: Respawn Delay: 8m 00s. XP Loss on Death: 50% towards next level. Temporary XP Gain Debuff: -50% for 1 hour post respawn.
*Error* Not applicable. Permanent Death Active
Luke winced. Seeing the debuffs he would have gotten were nothing compared to the last sentance. Permanent Death. He didn’t have any problem with death on Earth, it was always present, forever coming. Here though he was supposed to have new life, new opportunity! Along with that came new dangers and now, if he died, he died for good! The System wasn’t holding his hand anymore. Welcome to Rahu indeed, he thought grimly.
He dismissed the alert, adjusting the pack on his shoulders. The weight felt manageable, thanks to the Pack Mule skill, but the responsibility it represented, the potential loot needed to buy Jason’s and Irara’s Fares, felt immense. He took a deep breath, the cool night air sharp in his lungs, and stepped out from the camp’s perimeter.
The silence of the plains enveloped him, broken only by the whisper of the wind through the dry, grey green grass and the crunch of his own boots on the uneven ground. The landscape rolled away under the silvery moonlight, vast and empty, dotted with dark, hulking shapes that could have been rocky outcrops or sleeping leviathans.
He walked for hours, guided by the faint markings on Lestor’s map and the distant, jagged silhouette of the mountains that presumably held the Cliffs. The solitude pressed in. Back on Earth, even in the derelict ruins he called home, there was always the distant hum of generators, the scuttling sounds from collapsed buildings, the occasional shout or scream echoing through the desolation. Here, the quiet felt deeper, more ancient, punctuated only by unfamiliar nocturnal calls that prickled the back of his neck.
Fatigue began to creep in, a heavy cloak settling over his bruised body. The adrenaline from the market deals and the forge pact had worn off, leaving only the dull ache of exhaustion and the persistent throb from where the Minotaur’s horn had phantom pierced him, a sensation his mind refused to entirely forget despite the System’s repair job. He scanned the landscape, searching for a defensible spot to rest until dawn. Pushing through the night felt like tempting fate, especially with the harsh death penalties now active.
Ahead, a cluster of large, weathered boulders loomed, offering potential shelter from the wind and whatever might be prowling the plains. They looked solid, ancient, promising a brief respite. He angled towards them, relief warring with caution.
He was still fifty yards out when the sound reached him. A low, guttural growl vibrated through the soles of his boots. It wasn’t the territorial snarl of a wolf or hound. This was deeper, heavier, carrying a distinct undertone of scraping stone. Luke froze, hand instinctively dropping to the Anelace hilt strapped across his back. He melted into the shadow of a sparse, thorny bush, peering intently towards the boulders.
Movement. Low, broad shapes detached themselves from the deeper shadows around the rocks. Not wolves. Something else. They moved with a heavy, deliberate gait, powerfully built, their thick, matted fur a mottled grey brown that made them nearly invisible against the terrain. Small, beady red eyes gleamed with a feral light, fixing on his position with unnerving accuracy. He could make out thick, powerful claws on their forelimbs, blunt and heavy, designed for tearing through earth and rock.
~ Creature Detected: Rock Borer (Level 7) x3 ~
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Borers. The name clicked. Subterranean. Which meant they likely had keen senses beyond sight, perhaps tremor sense or smell. His attempt at stealth was probably useless. Three of them. Stocky, low to the ground, built like furry battering rams with razor sharp digging claws. Luke cursed inwardly. This was exactly the kind of random, lethal encounter he’d feared out here alone. His first real test since leaving the relative safety of the camp, and his first chance to use the strange skills granted by his provisional Class.
He drew the Anelace daggers smoothly. The shadowsteel seemed to drink the moonlight, offering no betraying glint. He backed away slowly, trying to widen the distance, formulate a plan. But the closest Borer lowered its head, letting out a chuffing snarl, and pawed the earth aggressively. The other two shifted immediately, fanning out, cutting off his angles of retreat. They were coordinating. Intelligent. Bad news.
His back was to the open plain. Using the boulders for cover, trying to fight them one on one, seemed the only viable tactic. He deactivated Pack Mule to regain his full agility, needing every bit of speed, then triggered Basic Evasion mentally, feeling that subtle quickening of his senses, the slight loosening of his limbs. He darted towards the largest boulder, a slab of rock easily twice his height.
The Borers charged, faster than their bulky forms suggested. They didn’t run straight; they weaved, using the uneven ground, low shrubs offering momentary cover. One veered wide, clearly intending to flank, while the other two powered directly towards him. Luke reached the boulder, pressing his back against the surprisingly smooth, cold stone, daggers held low and ready.
The first Borer arrived, a low growl rumbling in its chest. It didn’t bite. It swiped, its massive claws aimed low, intending to cripple him. Luke jumped back, tucking his legs up. The claws gouged deep lines in the rock face inches below his boots. He lashed out as he landed, the longer reach of the Anelace allowing him to connect. The right dagger sliced across the Borer’s broad snout.
~ Damage Dealt: 28 ~
~ Critical Hit! ~
The creature let out a surprised, high pitched squeal, recoiling, shaking its head vigorously. Dark blood dripped onto the dusty ground. Luke felt a flicker of triumph, quickly extinguished as the second Borer slammed into his side like a furry cannonball. He hadn’t tracked it properly in the chaos.
The impact drove the air from his lungs, sending him stumbling sideways, stars flashing behind his eyes. Pain exploded along his ribs and shoulder where the creature’s dense body had connected.
~ Damage Taken: 35 ~
~ HP: 65/100 ~
He scrambled desperately, putting distance between himself and the attackers, rolling behind a smaller, waist high boulder. He gasped for breath, the pain sharp and insistent. The third Borer, the flanking one, was now closing in from his left. The first, snout still bleeding, was recovering, its red eyes burning with pain and fury. The second was shaking its head, seemingly dazed from the force of its own charge.
Okay, think. Skills. Use the skills. He couldn’t fight them all at once. He needed to neutralize one quickly, create an opening. He risked a peek. The first one, the one he’d critically hit, was definitely favoring its wounded face, moving more hesitantly. But the second one, the charger, was recovering fast. The third was angling to cut off his escape route.
He focused on the second Borer, the one that had tackled him. Truth Seeker. He pushed the mental command, feeling a distinct pull on his mana reserves. A faint, almost imperceptible pulse of purple energy shimmered between him and the target for a fraction of a second before vanishing. The Borer paused, head tilting slightly, its red eyes blinking. The feedback wasn’t a clear thought, but a strong impression flooding Luke’s mind: Thick neck muscles guard throat… vulnerability behind brow ridge… susceptible to disorientation…
Interesting. So Truth Seeker wasn’t just about verbal information; it could reveal physical vulnerabilities too. The purple flash confirmed its connection to Fate’s energy. Now, how to exploit it? He couldn’t exactly punch it with his dagger pommel effectively. What about slowing it down?
He targeted the same Borer again. Synaptic. Another drain on his mana, another faint purple pulse. The air around the Borer seemed to thicken slightly. Its movements, which had been quickening as it recovered, suddenly became sluggish, almost dreamlike. It shook its head again, but the motion was slow, ponderous.
~ Target Status: Slowed (Minor) ~
It worked! Not a complete stop, but a noticeable reduction in speed. That bought him time. Now for the third skill. He shifted his focus to the third Borer, the flanker that was steadily closing the distance. Distortion. A third pulse of purple energy, slightly brighter this time, focused on the creature’s head.
The Borer flinched, its advance faltering. It blinked rapidly, shaking its head, letting out a confused snarl. Its perception of him seemed momentarily warped; it hesitated, unsure of his exact position or its next move.
~ Target Status: Disoriented (Minor) ~
Okay. Two partially disabled, one wounded. This was his chance. Luke exploded from behind the boulder, activating Basic Evasion. He ignored the slowed, disoriented ones for the moment and charged the first Borer, the one with the bleeding snout. It reacted, swiping defensively, but its movements were hampered by the earlier wound. Luke ducked under the clumsy attack, lunging low and driving both Anelace daggers deep into its exposed underbelly, twisting the blades as he pulled them free.
~ Damage Dealt: 22 ~
~ Damage Dealt: 24 ~
~ Critical Hit! ~
~ Internal Bleeding Applied ~
The Borer shrieked, a horrific, gurgling sound, and collapsed, thrashing weakly. Luke didn’t wait to confirm the kill. He spun, assessing the other two. The Synaptic effect on the second Borer was wearing off; it was moving faster now, charging towards him, albeit still slightly sluggishly. The third one, affected by Distortion, was still shaking its head but seemed to be refocusing, its red eyes locking onto him again.
He met the charge of the second Borer, the slowed one. He didn’t try to overpower it. He used his agility, sidestepping its main rush, letting its momentum carry it slightly past him. As it tried to correct, hampered by the lingering slowness, Luke darted in, slashing quickly across its hind legs with both daggers.
~ Damage Dealt: 16 ~
~ Damage Dealt: 18 ~
~ Status Effect Applied: Hamstrung (Minor) ~
The creature yelped, stumbling as its legs weakened. Before it could recover, Luke drove his right Anelace into the vulnerable spot behind its brow ridge identified by Truth Seeker. The blade sank deep.
~ Damage Dealt: 26 ~
~ Critical Hit! ~
~ Vulnerability Exploited! Damage x1.5 ~
~ Total Damage: 39 ~
The Borer shuddered violently and dropped like a stone, skull pierced.
~ Combat Log: Rock Borer x1 Defeated ~
~ XP Gained: +1200 ~
Two down. One remained. Luke turned to face the last Borer, the one he’d hit with Distortion and then hamstrung. It limped towards him, growling low, red eyes burning with hate. Its vision seemed clear now, but its movement was significantly impaired.
Luke advanced cautiously, daggers ready. The Borer lunged, a desperate, awkward movement. Luke easily sidestepped the attack, the creature stumbling past him. He didn’t give it a chance to recover. He spun, bringing both Anelace down in a brutal, double strike onto the back of its neck.
~ Damage Dealt: 21 ~
~ Damage Dealt: 23 ~
~ Target Status: Terminated ~
~ Combat Log: Rock Borer x1 Defeated ~
~ XP Gained: +1200 ~
~ Combat Log: Rock Borer x1 Defeated (Bleed Out) ~
~ XP Gained: +1200 ~
~ Level Up! You are now Level 9! ~
~ Attribute Points Available: +2 ~
~ Skill Points Available: +1 ~
The notifications barely registered. Luke collapsed beside the last kill, the Anelace slipping from his numb fingers. His side was on fire, his head swam, and the world seemed to tilt around him. He pressed his hand hard against the bleeding wound, trying to staunch the flow. He had survived. Somehow. But the cost had been immense. Alone, injured, and miles from anywhere resembling safety, Luke stared up at the indifferent twin moons, the silence of the plains suddenly feeling vast and terrifyingly empty.
He needed to loot the bodies quickly and find a safer place to rest and recover before something worse found him. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he forced himself to sit up. He reached out, touching the nearest Borer corpse. The familiar faint golden glow washed over it, and it dissolved, leaving behind its material remnants.
~ Loot Acquired: Tough Hide x2, Sharp Tooth x4, Dense Bone Fragment x3 ~
He repeated the process for the other two, his movements slow and agonizing. The new loot appeared in his internal inventory awareness, adding negligible perceived weight thanks to Pack Mule still being active, though the mental concentration required felt like an anchor dragging him down.
~ Loot Acquired: Tough Hide x6, Sharp Tooth x12, Dense Bone Fragment x9 (Total) ~
Loot secured, he scanned the immediate area. The cluster of boulders where he’d fought the Borers offered the only viable shelter. Dragging himself into the deepest shadow between the largest rocks, he slumped against the cold stone, pulling his knees to his chest. The bleeding from his side had slowed to a sluggish ooze, but the pain was a constant, throbbing presence. His mana was practically nonexistent, leaving his new skills unusable. His stamina was utterly depleted.
He fumbled with the waterskin, taking a small, careful sip, rationing the precious liquid. He chewed on a piece of the dried meat Lestor had given him, the effort almost too much. It tasted like cardboard and salt, but his body desperately needed fuel.
The silence pressed in again, broken only by the whisper of the wind and the distant, unsettling cries of unknown creatures. Every rustle of grass, every shift of shadow, sent a jolt of adrenaline through his exhausted system. He couldn’t stay awake. He needed to rest, to let his body begin the slow process of healing, to let his mana and stamina recover. But the fear was a physical thing, a cold knot in his gut. Dying out here, alone, and facing that eight minute respawn timer with who knew what lurking nearby… it was a terrifying prospect.
He drew one Anelace, laying it across his lap, the cool weight of the shadowsteel a small comfort. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart. Sleep was a necessity, a risk he had to take. He focused on the faint, rhythmic pulse of the Mark of Fate beneath his armor, a strange, internal metronome. Slowly, reluctantly, exhaustion began to win the battle against fear. The sounds of the plains blurred, the sharp edges of pain softened, and Luke drifted into an uneasy, shallow sleep, huddled against the unforgiving stone, vulnerable beneath the alien moons.