A young guard recognized them at once, his tense features relaxing.
“You’ve returned!” he called, voice echoing in the early hush. “Loren and Bonvil have been waiting—best you see them right away.”
Asil exchanged a quick, wry smile with Abby. The fort had become a kind of sanctuary, though each visit reminded them no place was truly safe in this realm. Passing the gate, they split up—some off to stow gear or snag breakfast, while Asil and Abby answered the summons to the war room.
Inside a dim side chamber, Loren propped himself up with his cane, his weathered gaze fixed on Asil, while Bonvil leaned against a scarred oak table piled with maps and tactical notes.
“Welcome back,” Loren said, relief warring with concern in his tone. “We’ve heard fragments—something about Fort Warren sealed off, and you battled more goblins?”
Asil cast a glance at Abby before recounting their travels. She described Their approach to Fort Warren, only to meet a mysterious woman at the gate who claimed they were unready and insisted they leave. Goblin ambushes, culminating in a fierce alpha goblin fight—the rescue of Lucia, a wounded wolf who’d become an unexpected ally.
Bonvil’s expression darkened at the mention of Warren’s blocked entrance. “We’d hoped it was simply deserted, but this suggests a more complicated presence. If a stranger’s calling you ‘outworlders’ and referencing a ‘Shadow Realm’… we need a strategy. Warren was once an allied outpost, but no word in years.”
Loren tapped his cane, pondering. “We can’t charge in blindly, not with rumors of demon sightings and the severed Source. Perhaps you can lead a scouting party—once you’re fully recovered. Carefully,” he added, his stern glance reminding them how deadly these prospects were.
Asil dipped her head. “I agree. We won’t push it. My group could use further training and a… well, more unified plan.” She carefully avoided naming “level thresholds” or the SR3 logic behind her caution. “But we do suspect deeper threats lie beyond that gate.”
Bonvil let out a slow breath, exchanging a nod with Loren. “Very well. Rest for now; keep your group ready. If we decide on infiltration, we’ll need every advantage.”
A silence settled, each occupant feeling the weight of potential conflict. Finally, Loren mustered a tight smile. “Glad you returned safely. We can’t afford to lose you, Asil.”
With that, the two men dismissed them, leaving Asil and Abby to slip away into the fort’s courtyard.
Outside, the fort buzzed with its usual morning routine: recruits taking up drills, a smithy’s anvil ringing, supply wagons creaking through the gates. Asil steered Abby to a quieter corner near the barracks.
“This place feels… changed,” Abby murmured, arms crossed as she surveyed the yard. “Like we’ve been gone far longer than we have.”
Asil nodded. “It’s not just here. The whole world is a copy of SR3’s mechanics and lore. Everything lines up—classes, item drops, magical journals. Not so much is the place changing, but our perspectives.” She paused. “You’ve never played SR3, but I have. We can exploit that knowledge.”
Abby pursed her lips. “So… we treat it like a giant game? Grind XP, find gear, do quests. Meanwhile, a real figure at Warren basically told us to stay away?”
A slight grin tugged at Asil’s face. “We’ll gain strength first, then handle Warren and the Shadow Realm if it truly parallels SR3’s dungeons. Probably a minimum threshold before we can handle it safely. For someone who hasn’t gamed before, you seem to up up on the lingo”
Abby smiled at that, but a tug of sorrow hit her too, missing her brothers. They would talk nonstop about the game, so she picked up a few words here and there.
Despite the dangers, a flicker of excitement underpinned their conversation. They’d done well so far, thanks to cunning and synergy—and yes, glimpses of “game logic” they recognized.
A soft hum emanated from Asil’s enchanted journal, distracting them. She flipped it open, reading lines of glowing text:
Lucia (Level 1)
Bonded Partner: Asil Hart
Available Transformations:
1) Majestic Falcon – Ideal for scouting and aerial reconnaissance.
2) Spirit Fox – Intangible for brief periods, perfect for stealth.
3) Dachshund – Small, unassuming, nearly imperceptible.
Abby let out a surprised laugh. “Dachshund? Are you serious? That’s an option for the big bad wolf?”
Even Asil had to smile, curiosity piqued by the incongruity. “A small form can be handy—slipping past open doors, surprising foes, or just comedic effect,” she joked, a sparkle of mischief in her eyes. “Let’s try it.”
She selected the Dachshund transformation. A light shimmer enveloped Lucia, shrinking her wolf body into an adorable, long-bodied hound. Lucia barked, her tail wagging, and both women fought off giggles.
“We’ve got ourselves a wiener dog,” Abby teased, stroking Lucia’s floppy ears. “This is too good.”
Despite the whimsy, Asil felt her chest tighten, remembering how precarious their reality was. If a comedic form helped lighten the mood, so be it.
After a moment, Abby cleared her throat. “Hey, we forgot something in the war room: the alpha goblin core you got. We never mentioned it to Loren or Bonvil.”
Asil frowned, recalling the swirling alpha goblin loot. “Right. They were so focused on Warren’s gate, I didn’t bring it up.” She reached into her pouch, producing a smooth, orb-like core glimmered with latent power. “I found it after that alpha fight. The journal says it can fuse with certain gear.”
Abby eyed it warily. “You think it’ll help your sword from Loren? The one that nearly got destroyed by Crescent Strike before?”
A thoughtful smile curved Asil’s lips. “Yes. If I can bond the core to the blade, it might give it stats to withstand the Crescent Strike’s force. No more shattered swords.”
Abby nodded. “Are you sure we should do that right now?”
Asil gazed at the quiet courtyard, then at her custom sword tucked at her side. “I think so. I can’t keep losing swords every time I use my best skill. We need every edge we can get.”
With a determined set to her jaw, Asil unsheathed the ornate weapon Loren had gifted. Holding it in one hand, alpha goblin core in the other, she focused on the sense of synergy she’d felt from loot merges before. The journal glowed, runic text swirling as it recognized the impending fusion.
Lucia, currently a dachshund, tilted her head curiously as if sensing the shift in mana. Abby watched in silent fascination.
“Here goes…” Asil murmured. Closing her eyes, she pictured the alpha goblin core merging with the sword’s inherent enchantment. Warmth pulsed through her grip, lines of faint energy snaking around the blade’s length.
Soft arcs of light twined from the core into the sword—like threads weaving the two together. A subtle hum resonated, the metal shimmering with a new luster. Finally, the orb dissolved into motes of light, fully absorbed.
A hush fell over them as Asil reopened her eyes. The sword’s hilt now bore a faint gleam, a silent testament to newfound resilience. The core becoming a gem affixed to the base of the blade near the hilt.
A quiet ping echoed in Asil’s mind. She sensed a small level-up for herself, the journal confirming an increase in skill:
Alpha Goblin Core: Successful Fusion!
Bound Weapon: Loren’s Gift (Enhanced)
+3 to Physical Damage
+2 to Magical Damage (vs. Goblins, Beasts)
Resilience to Crescent Strike: No durability loss on high-powered strikes
Self-Repair: If placed into storage or scabbard for 6 hours, the blade fully regenerates minor damage
Soulbound to Asil Hart
Abby exhaled a half-laugh. “So… does that mean no more swords disintegrating?”
Asil tested the balance, smiling in relief. “Looks that way. And it feels… stronger. Like I won’t lose control mid-strike.”
Asil re-sheathed the custom sword with fresh confidence, pressing a hand to the scabbard as though thanking it for holding firm. Lucia barked happily as if sensing her partner’s triumph. Abby clapped once, a grin lighting her face.
“Well, that’s one big upgrade. Next step? More training, more scouting, more… infiltration?”
Asil nodded, recalling Loren and Bonvil’s caution. They wouldn’t rush Fort Warren again until her team was ready and they hit level ten. Still, she felt that tension prickle at her spine—a sense that time was ticking, the Shadow Realm, or worse, might not wait for them to level up at their leisure.
“We keep forging ahead,” Asil said, voice taut with determination. “And now I’ve got a sword that can stand with me.”
A gentle breeze carried the smell of morning bread from the fort’s mess hall. Despite the undercurrent of looming danger—Fort Warren, the locked gate, the figure who saw them as “outworlders”—Asil clung to this moment of victory. A newly bonded weapon, an adorably minuscule Lucia at her side, and a plan to grow stronger with every quest.
The following days blurred into an endless cycle of reports, skirmishes, and quick marches back and forth from Fort Harjil. Demons and goblins surfaced in pockets around the region, and each new threat tested the team’s improving coordination. Asil and Abby divided the workload with precise planning: Gideon handled ranged support, Cressa bashed through the front lines, and Frederick refined his swordplay with every encounter. Lucia, ever adaptable, switched between her fearsome wolf shape and a comical dachshund form, putting foes off-guard and drawing more than a few laughs from the party.
Their first mission came swiftly—a small goblin pack terrorizing farmland to the east. Approaching under the morning sun, the group’s synergy became clear. Abby, cloaked in shadows, took out the nearest goblin in a lethal Backstab before it could warn its comrades. Asil followed with a smooth Whirling Slash, the blade—now bolstered by the alpha goblin core—slicing effortlessly through two goblins without the slightest sign of damage. The fight ended in seconds, the team tagging each defeated foe to ensure an even XP share.
In the days that followed, encounters became almost routine. They cornered a wandering demon near a shallow river, its furious roars echoing through the misty forest as they surrounded it in a tight formation. A goblin scouting party fared no better, especially when Lucia, in her diminutive dachshund guise, nipped at their ankles and caused confusion. Strategy blended with flashes of comic relief—Abby’s rolling eyes whenever Asil compared each skirmish to “grinding in SR3,” and Asil’s triumphant grin whenever her updated sword held strong during a high-power strike.
“This is just like SR3’s grinding mechanic,” Asil remarked during one fight. Her enhanced sword sent a goblin sprawling, and she gave its corpse a nudge to ensure it was truly down. “Tag everything, share the XP, and level up.”
Abby loosed a mock sigh, pulling her dagger free from a groaning goblin. “Next, you’ll be reciting the old patch notes at me,” she teased, though the results spoke for themselves. Every ambush and patrol raked in a modest bounty of copper coins, small demon cores, and the occasional potion. Abby found her Backstab technique growing sharper, and she unlocked a new skill—Fan of Knives, letting her fling a flurry of daggers that cut through multiple low-level enemies at once. Asil, meanwhile, sensed her Crescent Strike inching closer to some advanced variant, each kill seeming to strengthen the link between her abilities and the alpha-gifted sword.
Eventually, confidence met a harsher reality. A mid-tier demon, wreathed in thick, flickering shadows, ventured dangerously close to the fort’s perimeter. The ensuing battle was nothing like the casual hunts they’d carried out. Abby feigned a quick retreat, blinking out of sight with Shadow Meld to lure the demon into an exposed clearing. Asil, waiting for the perfect moment, charged in to deliver a searing Crescent Strike that tore through the demon’s defenses. Yet the creature retaliated with startling ferocity, nearly skewering Frederick if not for Gideon’s well-aimed arrow and a quick shield block from Cressa. Even battered, the demon refused to collapse until Asil and Abby coordinated a second, final onslaught.
Moments later, it dissolved in a swirl of smoke, leaving the team panting. A faint hum passed through Asil’s and Abby’s journals, awarding them crucial experiences that nudged them a step closer to the target threshold.
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“Level 7,” Asil exhaled, resting on her knee, sweat trickling down her temple. “Just three to go before we can handle bigger stuff.”
Abby wiped soot from her cheek, offering a tired grin. “Best day’s work we’ve had in a while.”
That evening, they gathered around a crackling campfire in a quiet clearing. In her dachshund shape, Lucia chased her tail with such enthusiasm that Frederick laughed aloud. Asil leaned back against a stump, her thoughts drifting toward the next milestone.
“I can feel a new Blade Dancer ability forming,” she said, eyes gleaming at the idea. “It’s called Blade Storm, if memory serves from SR3. A whirling set of strikes that tear through anything within arm’s reach.”
Abby arched an eyebrow. “Sounds flashy. You think your magic sword can handle that kind of power?”
A ghost of a smile crossed Asil’s face. “We’ll see,” she replied, patting the sword’s hilt, grateful its new resilience had yet to falter.
The conversation flowed freely. Abby admitted her budding comfort in combat—a far cry from the timid friend Asil once knew. Frederick recounted a brush with a demon’s illusion earlier in the day, nearly tricking him into stepping off a ledge. Laughter mingled with the flicker of firelight, and for a moment, the day’s exhaustion melted away.
At dawn, the fort relayed yet another report: a goblin raiding party edging too near for comfort. The group fell into a now-familiar routine, swiftly tracking the goblins and dispatching them with polished teamwork. Asil’s sword whirled in lethal arcs while Abby’s Fan of Knives whittled down clusters of foes. The enemy stood no chance, culminating in another triumphant ping from each journal.
Grinning, Asil wiped blood from her blade as she and Abby stood side by side, scanning their respective status screens. They shared a look of excitement.
“Level 9 for me,” Asil noted, heart pounding with exhilaration. “So close.”
Abby nodded, scrolling through her new skill options. “Level 8 here. This is definitely working, but we can’t stop—Fort Warren and the Shadow Realm might require a full team of tens.”
They pulled out their journals for a stats update:
Human: Asil Hart (Level 9)
Class: Blade Dancer
Power Drawn: Stamina
Whirling Slash (Level 3):
- Spin forward, damaging nearby foes.
- Cost: Medium Stamina.
- Cooldown: 10 seconds.
Phantom Step (Level 2):
- Short-distance dash or teleport for repositioning.
- Cost: Low Stamina.
- Cooldown: 10 seconds.
Crescent Strike (Level 4):
- Sword arc imbued with mystic energy, slicing multiple enemies.
- Cost: High Stamina.
- Cooldown: 30 seconds.
Blade Storm (Level 1):
- A whirling flurry of strikes, striking all nearby enemies multiple times. Extremely high damage output, requires stable blade synergy.
- Cost: High Stamina.
- Cooldown: 30 seconds.
Mirage Waltz (Level 1):
- Leaves behind a false image, distracting the enemy, giving a chance to slip away unseen.
- Cost: High Stamina.
- Cooldown: 30 seconds.
Armor: Blade Dancer’s Circlet (Head)
+3 to armor
+1 to Stamina
Self-Repair: Can fix itself over time if placed into storage.
Weapon: Loren’s Gift (Sword)
- +4 to Physical Damage
- +3 to Magical Damage (vs. Goblins, Beasts)
- Resilience to Crescent Strike: No durability loss on high-powered strikes
- Self-Repair: If placed into storage or scabbard for 6 hours, the blade fully regenerates minor damage
- Soulbound
Companion: Lucia (Level 7)
Bonded Partner: Asil Hart
Dachshund Form – Small, unassuming, nearly imperceptible.
Wolf form
Growl (level 3)
- Distracts the enemies, taking attention away from the party
- Cost: Low Stamina
-Cool down: 30 seconds
Wolf Hide
-Adds +4 to armor for 30 seconds, heals 30% health
-Cost: Medium Stamina
-Cool down: 60 seconds
Human: Abby Levine (Level 8)
Class: Shadow Dancer
Power Drawn: Shadow Energy (energy from the Shadow Realms)
Shadow Meld (Level 2):
- Blend into nearby shadows, gaining invisibility + movement speed.
- Duration: 10 seconds after initial attack.
- Cost: Low Shadow Energy.
- Cooldown: 10 seconds.
Backstab (Level 3):
- Appear behind a target for massive critical damage.
- Cost: Medium Shadow Energy.
- Cooldown: 20 seconds.
Fan of Knives (Level 1):
– Launch a spread of daggers in an arc, hitting multiple weak targets at once. Low base damage but effective crowd control.
- Cost: Medium Shadow Energy.
- Cooldown: 30 seconds.
Ebon Echo (Level 1):
- Create an illusory double to confuse enemies + coordinate attacks.
- Cost: High Shadow Energy.
- Duration: 20 seconds.
- Cooldown: 60 seconds.
Weapon - Daggers of Vespa
+4 to damage
Return to storage if lost
37% chance of a critical strike when using Backstab
Armor - Leather (Chest)
+3 to armor
+2 to Stamina
Self-Repair: Can fix itself over time if placed into storage.
The day winding down, they decided to trek closer toward the Dark Woods on the route to Hajill, maybe investigating rumors of straggling monsters. Shadows lengthened across the path, and a quiet hush settled over the trees. Lucia, back in her wolf form, sniffed the air, ears perked in caution.
That’s when a faint whisper rustled through the brush: “Outworlder…”
A chill raced down Asil’s spine. She spun to see a monstrous figure sliding from the dense canopy. At least ten feet tall, it had a hunched frame and six limbs—four muscular arms protruding from its torso, plus two elongated, twisted arms arching behind its shoulders. Each forearm bristled with pitch-black barbs, and the demon’s skin glistened in shifting colors of deep purple and sickly green. Its eyes burned with predatory intelligence, a low hiss rattling the undergrowth.
Asil’s and Abby’s journals flared with frantic text:
Margon’Tor (Greater Demon) – Level 12
Gideon froze mid-step while Frederick raised his sword in trembling disbelief. The demon’s multiple arms flexed, each lined with sharp talons that could rip through metal. Its voice carried a guttural resonance, repeating the word “Outworlder,” almost savoring it.
Asil swallowed, adrenaline surging. She could feel Cressa shifting her stance, gripping her mace, while Lucia bared her fangs in a warning growl. The monstrous demon took another step, the ground trembling beneath its weight.
In that electrifying moment, none of them knew if they could match such a foe—or if their hard-won synergy and newly gained levels would be enough. Heart pounding, Asil tightened her grip on her alpha-gifted sword, preparing to face down a nightmare that dwarfed any challenge they’d yet encountered.
The forest stilled as the towering demon emerged from the gloom. Ten feet tall, Margon’Tor’s slick violet hide gleamed in the half-light, four muscular arms protruding from its torso, and two elongated limbs curving ominously behind its broad shoulders. Its eyes glowed with an unearthly hue, and when it spoke, its voice carried the faint echoes of a hundred tortured souls.
“Outworlder,” it hissed, each syllable dripping with cruel amusement.
Asil’s blood ran cold at the word, recalling the ominous warnings she’d overheard. She squared her stance, her enhanced sword—Loren’s Gift, infused with the alpha goblin core—vibrating beneath her grip. A glance to her right found Abby, daggers bristling with lethal potential. Gideon kept an arrow nocked, and Frederick stood resolute beside him, blade at the ready. Cressa hefted her mace, determined glare set on the demon’s hunched frame. A short distance behind, Eamon flipped feverishly through his notes, calling out updates.
Lucia, fully in her wolf form, stepped forward first, hackles raised as a low growl rumbled from her throat. Margon’Tor flexed its six total arms—four heavily muscled in front, the two elongated behind its shoulders lashing like hungry serpents. Eamon’s voice cut through the heavy air:
“Aim for those extra arms! Gideon, keep firing from a distance—don’t let it close in!”
Gideon loosed an arrow, the shaft striking one of the demon’s front arms with a sickening thud. Margon’Tor snarled and lurched forward, fury twisted across its features. Before it could lunge at Gideon, Frederick rushed in, delivering a quick, calculated slash that forced the demon to turn its furious gaze on him instead. One of the elongated arms swung around in a vicious arc, barely missing Frederick’s head as he ducked low and countered with another slash.
Asil took that moment to dart in, channeling Crescent Strike. The arc of energy carved into Margon’Tor’s ribs, black ichor oozing from the wound. Yet the demon barely staggered, letting out a roar that reverberated through the clearing. Abby vanished into a flicker of shadow and reappeared behind the demon, burying her daggers into one of its writhing shoulder arms.
Margon’Tor let out a crazed laugh, thick arms swinging to dislodge Abby. Another arrow from Gideon struck its hide, but the demon, eyes blazing, began chanting in a guttural snarl. The air at its feet contorted with warped energy, and three smaller demons crawled forth on all fours, eyes glowing with malice:
Demon (Level 9)
Demon (Level 9)
Demon (Level 9)
Eamon cried out, “They’re summoning reinforcements! Split up and handle those new ones!”
Abby, mid-Shadow Meld, pivoted away from Margon’Tor to intercept the first lesser demon. Frederick clashed blades with the second, matching it strike for strike. The third lunged for Gideon, only to be blindsided by Lucia’s feral snarl. The wolf unleashed her Growl, the thunderous sound momentarily freezing the demon in its tracks. Lucia then activated Wolf Hide, a shimmering aura covering her pelt. The demon’s claws raked futilely along the protective energy, allowing Gideon to release an arrow at point-blank range into its throat. Asil sliced through the second demon with a deft Whirling Slash, while Abby’s Backstab finished off the first, leaving only Margon’Tor again—but with a seething fury in its expression.
Wounded but still formidable, Margon’Tor hissed out another guttural phrase. The air bent once more, and three larger forms materialized:
Demon (Level 10)
Demon (Level 10)
Demon (Level 10)
Its eyes glowed with triumph as these higher-level fiends ambled forward, each brandishing vicious weapons or natural claws. The party already felt exhaustion tug at their limbs from earlier fights, but they spread out to meet this second wave. Asil intercepted one demon, blending Phantom Step with another decisive Crescent Strike to bring it down. Abby danced among the shadows for a ruthless combination of Fan of Knives and stealth kills, while Frederick and Gideon teamed up on the third, a rapid mix of arrow strikes and sword thrusts. Lucia, protective instincts flaring, tackled one demon’s legs with savage bites, letting Cressa deliver a crushing blow to its exposed head.
The newly summoned demons collapsed in heaps of foul smoke, leaving Margon’Tor himself staggering slightly under the weight of accumulated wounds. Yet his fury peaked at that moment, an otherworldly roar echoing in the clearing. Two of its torso arms lashed at Asil, forcing her back. The demon’s elongated arms curled above its head, coalescing crackling energy. Eamon, near the treeline and calling out suggestions, realized the demon’s target far too late.
“Spirit bolt—watch out!” he yelled. The jagged lance of black energy tore from Margon’Tor’s palm, streaking straight for Eamon.
Cressa stepped in without hesitation, throwing herself into the path of the bolt. It struck her chest, sending her sprawling backward with a cry, her mace spinning from her hand. Eamon rushed to her side, horror etched into his features.
Margon’Tor let out a triumphant howl, brandishing all six arms as though ready to deliver final carnage. Fury and desperation electrified the group. Abby and Asil locked eyes, needing no words. Frederick exhaled sharply, mustering his last reserve of energy.
Frederick charged first, slashing at Margon’Tor’s legs to unbalance it. Abby vanished into the gloom, reappearing in a blink behind the demon’s broad shoulders, daggers plunging into its hide. With all her will, Asil tapped the alpha-powered sword for one final, devastating move. Melding Crescent Strike with a partial Whirling Slash, she unleashed a frenzy of sword arcs at Margon’Tor’s core. The demon howled as black ichor sprayed, limbs flailing in vain as the lethal strikes hammered its vital points.
With a final screech of pain, Margon’Tor convulsed and collapsed, its body dissolving into a cloud of greasy, foul-smelling smoke. The clearing fell silent except for the team’s ragged breathing and the sizzle of demonic residue dissipating. Loot notifications lit up in their journals—hints of a Greater Demon Core, shadow essence, and other potential treasures—but no one moved to retrieve them.
All eyes turned to Cressa. She lay pale on the ground, armor scorched, her breathing terrifyingly faint. Eamon cradled her head, voice trembling with urgency. “She’s alive… but barely.”
Frederick carefully lifted Cressa’s limp body, shoulders tight with fear. Lucia, still in wolf form, whimpered low in her throat, nuzzling Cressa’s hand as though begging her to wake up. Asil slid her sword back into its scabbard, adrenaline still racing through her system, and Abby stared grimly at the space where Margon’Tor had vanished.
“Back to the fort, now,” Asil said, voice taut with command. They gathered themselves for the desperate trek. The monstrous threat might be gone, but the price of victory was heartbreakingly clear. Whether Cressa would survive her courageous sacrifice remained the great unknown as they limped toward Fort Harjil, battered but together, determined that her stand would not be in vain.