Chapter 6: The Spell Fist

  The fire crackled in the center of the camp as Marcus sat cross-legged near its warmth, his muscles aching and his mind spinning from the chaos of the kobold ambush. Adrenaline had long since faded, leaving him in the heavy, almost meditative calm that always followed a hard-fought battle. As he flexed his sore hands, he couldn’t help but replay the fight in his mind.

  The kobolds had been relentless—quick, vicious, and coordinated. Yet somehow, his fists had struck true, each blow landing with more force than he’d ever thought possible.

  Yara approached, holding out a steaming mug of something earthy-smelling. “Drink. It’ll help with the soreness,” she said, sitting down beside him.

  “Thanks,” Marcus muttered, accepting the drink. He took a tentative sip and grimaced—it was bitter but strangely invigorating. “And… thanks for having my back out there. I couldn’t have done it without you all.”

  Yara’s sharp gaze softened. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. I’ve seen plenty of fighters—many of them dead now. You’re different, Marcus. That fight was proof.”

  Before Marcus could respond, Vira joined them, crouching across the fire. Her green skin glowed softly in the flickering light, her bright eyes gleaming with curiosity. “She’s right. You don’t fight like someone who just started adventuring. You fight like someone who’s already survived a dozen battles.”

  Marcus glanced at the flames, unsure how to respond. “I just… relied on what I know,” he said carefully.

  “You mean boxing,” Vira said, tilting her head.

  He looked up, surprised she remembered. “Yeah. Back home, it’s what I trained for—fighting with just my fists. It’s not magic, but it’s what kept me alive.”

  “That much is clear,” Boruk rumbled from nearby, his deep voice cutting through the night air. He stood, his axe resting on one massive shoulder as he walked over to join the group. “Your fists hit harder than most warriors’ weapons. But that doesn’t explain everything.”

  Marcus frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Boruk dropped into a crouch, his gaze sharp and appraising. “You’re Level 6. Yet you fought like someone twice that level—maybe higher. Your reaction speed, your power… even your instincts. It doesn’t add up.”

  Yara nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Boruk’s right. Most fighters at your level would’ve panicked against those kobolds, but you were calm, precise. The system tracks progress for a reason, but you’ve already surpassed what your level suggests.”

  Marcus shifted uncomfortably, knowing they weren’t wrong. He had been holding back the truth—about The Unseen One, about his use of Ki and Psyka—but he couldn’t afford to let them in on everything. Not yet.

  “I guess I’ve always been a fast learner,” he said with a shrug. “And the system probably boosted me because of my fighting style.”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Vira leaned forward, her tone probing but kind. “It’s not just the style, Marcus. The system recognizes uniqueness. That’s why it gave you the Spell Fist class—it’s rare. You’re blending primal combat with magic in a way the system hasn’t seen before.”

  “Speaking of which…” Yara added, gesturing toward him. “Why don’t you show us your stats? It’ll give us a better idea of how to help you grow.”

  Marcus hesitated, his chest tightening. He trusted them—at least as much as he could trust anyone in this strange new world—but The Unseen One wasn’t something he could risk revealing. Still, he knew refusing outright would only raise suspicion.

  “Alright,” he said finally. “But go easy on me—I’m still figuring this out.”

  The passive effect of the titlte "The Unseen One", Marcus projected a false version of his stat screen. As the translucent display appeared in the air, the orcs gathered around, studying it with interest.

  Name: Marcus Elder

  Race: Human

  Class: Spell Fist, Unique

  Level: six.

  Experience: 1760 of 2000

  HP: 160 of 160

  MP: 16

  Stats:

  Strength: 20

  Agility: 17

  Endurance: 21

  Intelligence: 13

  Wisdom: 11

  Luck: 11

  Abilities:

  null

  Marks:

  null

  Achievements:

  Fighting Pioneer: For creating a unique combat style and forging a new path, you have earned the title of Fighting Pioneer. Stats increased by 10%.

  Unallocated Points: 12

  Boruk grunted, crossing his arms. “Your Strength and Endurance are impressive for your level. Makes sense, given your fighting style. But you’re holding back on allocating your points.”

  “I wanted to think it through,” Marcus explained. “I don’t want to make the wrong choice.”

  “Smart,” Yara said approvingly. “Once you spend them, there’s no going back. For a hybrid fighter like you, I’d suggest balancing Strength, Agility, and Intelligence—but it depends on what direction you want to take your combat.”

  Vira chimed in, her tone lighter. “And don’t forget Wisdom. It helps with mana efficiency. You’ll need it if you want to keep mixing magic with your punches.”

  Marcus nodded, their advice settling in the back of his mind. “I’ll hold off for now. I need to see how things develop.”

  Boruk narrowed his eyes slightly, his tone turning serious. “There’s still one thing that bothers me. Every time I try to inspect you directly, I get a headache. That’s not normal.”

  Marcus froze, his heart skipping a beat.

  “Boruk, stop,” Vira said, placing a hand on his arm. “If Marcus is hiding something, maybe he has a reason. We’ve all got secrets, don’t we?”

  Boruk grunted but said nothing more, his expression wary.

  Vira turned back to Marcus, her eyes soft but searching. “Whatever it is, just remember—we’re on your side. If you’re protecting something important, we won’t pry. But don’t carry it alone, alright?”

  Her words struck a chord, and for a moment, Marcus considered telling them everything. But the weight of his Perma and his unique abilities held him back.

  “Thanks,” he said quietly. “I appreciate that.”

  As the conversation shifted, Yara took a moment to explain the significance of his Fighting Pioneer achievement.

  “Achievements aren’t just badges of honor,” she said. “They’re the system’s way of recognizing extraordinary actions. Most people never earn one, but those who do… they’re remembered. Achievements can grant anything from stat boosts to unique skills—and in your case, they’ve already made you stronger.”

  Marcus listened carefully, the weight of her words sinking in.

  “So, the system gave me that achievement because I’m the first to fight this way?” he asked.

  Vira nodded. “Exactly. The system rewards innovation. You’re not just blending martial combat with magic—you’re creating something entirely new. That’s why you unlocked a unique class like Spell Fist. It’s a path no one else has walked before.”

  You're something else Marcus Yara added, I look forward to training with you all again, but I must depart, the chieftain must know what happened here today...Yara looked off into the distance Kobolds this far into our territory is...strange.

  Yara recited a strange multi-tounged incantation, a portal appeared, she walked through...and was gone

  The rest of the group collected themselves, and prepared for the trek back...