The Conciege
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ROTLE- Chapter 51- Locked
🕑 Added 2024-09-10 21:45:40 +0000 UTCCold steel in hand leaking mist of equal cold, Aiden stood opposite Voshret. In normal combat, you were taught to gauge your enemy’s reach. A spear was longer than a sword. It made it difficult to fight against from a point of safety.
But while he was taught this, Aiden had also been taught that this was a world of magic, of fantasy. This was a world were the impossible was possible.
The reach of Voshret’s spear was not the only reach the man possessed.
Aiden twirled twirled his sword out of habit. It served no purpose besides reacquainting his hands with the weight of the sword the cold mist leaking from it.
He wondered how much longer he had with the sword now that it had suffered the weight of two enchantments.
[You have used skill Detect]
…
[Longsword]
[A sword of specific blade length of the Bandiv design]
[Durability: 16/100]
There was no surprise there. The dying durability was not due to poor design. Normally, it would take months of using a longsword without maintenance for its durability to drop this long. If it was used against monsters, it would get to this point in a few weeks without maintenance.
Aiden moved his attention from the sword to Voshret. At this rate, he would need to be creating budgets specifically for his weapons. Then there was Spell Binder. A weapon that had never needed maintenance.
A weapon that had been every magic user’s nightmare.
Aiden kept his attention on Voshret. The man held his spear with ease, like a man accustomed to using it. On the human side of Nastild, martial arts wasn’t a priority. Only the soldiers learnt it, and even then it was just a little of it.
The knights learnt more of it dedicating some portion of their lives to it.
Why was it this way? Aiden had learnt the answer long ago. It was like technology on earth. Once upon a time people had learnt all the ways of crafting a letter. They learnt cursive bent their letters one way or the other so that they created art in lines and strokes and dots.
Then technology came, telephones, the internet. People still knew how to write letters in their grandest beauties, but not at the same ratio as they once had. Now, the most beautiful handwritings were learned as skills as one would learn the drum or the trombone. The average person did not learn it or retain the skill.
And why would they, when they didn’t need to draft beautiful letters. They could send a simple text with the press of a button and get a response immediately. Resumes could be drafted with a chosen font style. Certain things were lost to easier methods of doing things. As they often say on earth, work smart not hard.
So why would someone on Nastild choose to learn and train on the complicated intricacies of how to cut down a man or a monster in ten moves that made them bend and turn and twist and jump? It was arguably stupid. Why struggle with that when you could simply burn them down with a wave of a hand and the activation of a skill.
Nastild had lost its way of combat years ago, replaced it with the dominance of skills. People claimed martial prowess on Nastild, mercenaries and adventurers alike, those who had gained the [Swordsmanship] skill or some other weapon skill. But the truth was that they were all, in the end, brawlers.
Aiden let the point of his sword tip down gently, slowly. Voshret kept an eye on him. He watched Aiden like a grown man watching a small dog, perhaps a puppy. A puppy that had just taken a chunk of flesh from his calf.
He was wary but not generally scared.
Then Voshret moved.
Aiden did not watch the man’s feet or his shoulder, not even his weapon. He watched all of him, eyes gently unfocused so that he could pick out the slightest move, even if it wasn’t in detail.
The spear crossed the distance between them, a distance that was at least three times the length of the weapon, in the blink of an eye.
Aiden moved his sword slightly to the side so that its blade would clash with the tip of the spear. As he did so, he allowed his body relax, move in whatever direction he needed it to go.
The blade of his sword went through the length of the spear and the spear continued on its path to skewer Aiden’s mouth. To his credit, he had expected this. So Aiden let his leg give out from under him.
He survived by the skin of his teeth and took a graze to the side of his head. It was a very irregular method of evasion but the Order’s fighting styles were full of irregularities if you chose to use them. It had evasive techniques that looked like nothing but feints.
When Aiden came back to his feet, Voshret looked impressed.
“You dodged it,” Voshret said, a little surprised. “I did not expect that.”
With the level disparity between the both of them, Aiden shouldn’t have been able to dodge it. But the enchantment for speed and lightning were still coursing through his veins. He was faster and more active than anyone in his level was supposed to be.
Voshret changed his stance and leveled his spear once more. “How about this?”
He leapt forward, spear held firmly in a hand cocked back. Before he’d even completed his movement, he stabbed. Three spear strikes came at Aiden, each one like an illusory thing. It was as if the weapon was flowing, bending, defying the laws of physics.
Aiden didn’t fear it. If the man in front of him had actual martial training, he would’ve been worried. But Voshret did not, he had maybe enough to call himself a dabbler, but nothing more. What was coming at Aiden was not a distortion created from some technique or the other, it was a skill.
Aiden pulled a plaque from his belt and tossed it forward before Voshret was done. Then he took a hesitant step back just in case.
[You have used Plaque of Lesser Binding]
[Effect: Bind the subject in an area in mana]
[Duration: Varies based on level disparity]
Mana erupted from the plaque like tentacles from a terrifying creature. They shot out around Voshret and he realized their presence a little too late. He tried to cancel out the skill, turned as if to give the tentacles his attention.
One wrapped itself around his thigh as he did. Another shot out to grab him by the shoulder. None went for his spear since the enchantment was the variation that went for the living.
It did not pull him down but it held him in place.
Aiden shot forward, and stabbed with his sword. He hoped to take Voshret in one blow even though he knew he would not succeed. He’d been taught in fights that every blow was to be a killing blow, even attacks that were designed to be feints. Anything less was to be considered a touch of hubris. It was the luxury of either the strong or those not ready to kill.
Aiden was neither.
Voshret’s hand shot up at the last moment and grabbed the sword by the blade before it stabbed him in the chest, then the binding came undone, shattered in an instant.
“You continue to annoy me,” he scowled.
Aiden didn’t say anything in return. Voshret’s hold on the sword tightened and the hand that held the spear moved to take action.
With a normal sword, Aiden would’ve been at a disadvantage. But this was not simply a normal sword. Not in this moment.
Voshret’s spear arm hesitated as the hand holding Aiden’s sword in place turned a pale shade of blue.
[Voshret has received frost damage!]
[Voshret is stunned]
Voshret’s eyes moved down to his hand and Aiden ripped his sword from his hold. He did it with a flurry, strength and technique imbued into the very action.
[You have dealt Voshret a Critical Blow!]
Voshret yelled in pain as Aiden retrieved his sword. He staggered back and away from Aiden, jaw clenched, eyes wide and wild like a feral beast in a dire position.
In the corner three frozen fingers hit the ground. They bled but not profusely.
“You fucking bastard!” Voshret hissed, one arm relieved of three fingers.
Aiden took a combat stance again. “Do you know the problem with growing past level fifty?”
He brought his hands together and slowly, mockingly, weaved a new enchantment into existence.
[You have used class skill Enchanted Weave]
…
[You have used Weave of Lesser Strength]
[Effect: +25% increase in strength]
[Duration: 00:04:52.]
He felt the power of the weaving course through him, bolster him. As for the question he’d asked Voshret, he wasn’t expecting an answer. So he told him, regardless.
“Those who grow past level fifty,” he said. “Start to think themselves powerful. They forget that they are still weak. They fall, ultimately, to their own hubris.”
Voshret remained in pain but had composed himself better. Rather than reply, he attacked.
He rushed Aiden in anger, but Aiden didn’t back away. Voshret struck with his spear, aimed to take Aiden in the arm. Aiden defended with his sword, cold steel parried the spear’s blade before it became a true threat. Then he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. A spear came at him, striking from over Voshret’s left shoulder.
Aiden ducked away from it, avoided the blow before it even reached him.
Voshret didn’t give him any time to rest. The man was stronger in raw power and he knew it. He charged Aiden, attacked as Aiden avoided. He swept his spear in great display of prowess for a poacher and Aiden raised his sword to take the blow from the side.
If it had been thrown with both hands maybe it would’ve sent him staggering. But with only one arm, it did not.
Aiden held his ground and turned the spear aside. Then he stepped forward with an attack of his own. His sword swept forward, cutting through the air. He went for Voshret’s shoulder first, intent on disabling the man’s spear arm.
Voshret reacted quickly, knocking the sword to the side. Aiden twirled the sword with a flick of the wrist so that it moved gracefully through the path it had been sent on. Then he moved his hand and attacked from a different direction.
Voshret reacted. With one hand he moved his spear and parried again. As he did, a spear came at Aiden, thrust from between his legs. It came for Aiden’s groin and he staggered to the side, surprised by the attack.
You were taught to expect anything in a fight, but a man going for your groin was always something worthy of a hesitant pause.
The attack took him by surprise and broke his rhythm. Aiden frowned as he regained his composure. He moved forward and Voshret stamped the butt of his spear on the ground. His scowl was now imprinted on his face. There was no other expression the man was willing to have.
The ground shook as Voshret activated another obvious skill. The glossy ground moved and trembled. Cracks spread along it from where the spear met it but that was all there was, cracks.
Voshret looked down at it and his scowl deepened.
The skill had not been strong enough to break the layer of the Fharanal’s body fluid. Aiden didn’t need to think about it as he charged forward, sword moving.
At this point he would have to take his time. He kept his attention spread out as Voshret met him in combat. They exchanged blows, Aiden attacking in steps and forms and rhythm, a fighter with experience.
Voshret deflected, defending with worry as blood dripped from his severed finger. For every three blows he deflected, Aiden landed one.
But Voshret was stronger, almost faster. Every blow he landed was either too shallow or not deadly. Stabs ended up being cuts, cuts ended up being less. Voshret’s frowns continued to fill his face.
Aiden stepped away from another phantom spear, as he was beginning to call them, they slipped out from odd angles and attacked him at odder angles. It could pop out from Voshret’s chest and he would be forced to avoid it in the most irregular ways.
It had left him with his own scars and his own depleting [Health] levels.
It was annoying.
And he hasn’t even used his manifesting skill, Aiden thought, his breaths coming more quickly than he would’ve liked.
Voshret was breathing more heavily.
That was the thing about the [Stamina] life stat. No matter how high it was, if you didn’t manage it properly, it was less than it really was. If two people had the same stamina levels the one who controlled his better was stronger. When you run, you must learn how to breathe while you do it if not you would grow tired faster than you should.
It was why he was breathing less than someone with a higher level than himself. His eyes went to Voshret’s hand, the blood dripping from his lost fingers. That certainly played a part.
Blood loss meant his [Health] stat was definitely dropping consistently. With the cuts that Aiden had riddled his body with, the man’s health stats had to be terrifying to watch.
Voshret glared at him. “What are you?”
Aiden wasn’t compelled to answer. Instead, he engraved another enchantment on the sword.
[You have used class skill Unarmed Engrave]
…
[You have used Enchantment of Lesser Force]
[Effect: 30% chance to deal knockback on attack]
[Duration: 00:04: 00]
You have used skill [Detect].
[You have used skill Detect]
…
[Longsword]
[A sword of specific blade length of the Bandiv design]
[Durability: 09/100]
Aiden frowned as he leveled his weapon at Voshret. The sword was dying out too quickly. Aiden darted forward once more, carried forward by [Dash]. Voshret had been frowning while he’d drawn an engraving on his sword.
Now the man was going to experience what had him curious.
The moment they clashed, Aiden forced him back with a swing of his sword. Voshret frowned as he parried, staggering back.
“What is this?” he asked, voice low as if he was talking to himself. “Three enchantments on one sword?”
A smile touched his lips. “I will have it.”
Aiden almost laughed. Most enchanted weapons came with only one enchantment. At least at simpler levels. A weapon with two enchantments was powerful at their current level, even at Voshret’s which Aiden wasn’t completely sure of.
Three, however? That was extravagant. Powerful.
If only he knew.
Voshret attacked again. This time there was a certain level of zeal in the blow he struck. Motivation.
Aiden parried it, then swung at the phantom spear that came from Voshret’s closed mouth. They were the exact reason he’d used the [Enchantment of Force].
Voshret’s eyes widened at the blade that came at his face. Aiden had been dodging the phantom spears long enough that he had grown accustomed to using it to create distance between them.
He raised his spear at the last moment. Aiden’s sword shattered the phantom spear instead of passing through it as usual, then struck Voshret’s raised spear.
[Voshret has received Force damage!]
[Knockback takes effect.]
Voshret was knocked back, the effect of Aiden’s enchantment sending two more phantom spears shattering. Voshret was thrown off the ground and sent four feet back.
It wasn’t much by the standard of what a force enchantments were known to be capable of but it was something.
Voshret’s feet hit the ground, stabilizing him so that he did not fall. The moment he landed, he leaned to the side. Aiden’s sword tore his shoulder. He had stabbed for the man’s head and had missed, not that he’d been expecting to kill him with it.
Voshret cussed under his breath as he fled to the side, blood spilling from his shoulder. He moved his hand with the missing fingers and tried to grab it.
He stared at the hand, his anger deepened.
“You know what,” he said. “To the heavens with this.”
He held his hands out to the side and the air grew still. Aiden took a step back, changed his stance, placed himself on the defensive and weaved unto himself two new enchantments.
[You have used class skill Walking Canvas]
…
[You have used class skill Enchanted Weave]
[You have used Weave of Lesser Force]
Aiden’s jaw tightened as the enchantment took effect. He felt as if he was being pressed from all sides. It wasn’t painful or uncomfortable, just slightly discomfiting. He hadn’t expected it to be.
Right now, he felt as if he was a magnet trying to repel things around him.
It was a pre-emptive skill. With the stillness in the mana around him and what Voshret had said before taking such a dramatic pose that was uncalled for, he knew what was coming next.
[You have used Weave of Lesser Endurance]
Then he prepared himself for what would come next.
Above Voshret, gathered to protect him, phantom spears slowly materialized in the air. They were hollow and empty, translucent, too. But they let out a slow mist of green, excess mana being lost to the atmosphere.
“There is a reason you don’t look for the trouble of those over level fifty,” the man snarled.
Aiden ignored him and paid attention on the skill.
Thirteen, he counted. Those were quite the number of spears. But considering the mana leaking from them, Voshret’s mana control didn’t seem very good.
And the fact that he’d waited this long to use it, lost a few fingers, suffered a multitude of injuries and was bleeding significantly from his shoulder told Aiden one thing. There was either a significant issue with using the skill here or it consumed too much mana.
He watched the spears. With that many spears, it probably consumes too much mana.
“Beg and I might spare you,” Voshret bit out in barely withheld annoyance.
Aiden had his own cuts and bruises. The side of his face was still bleeding from the cut he’d received from the first phantom spear. Regardless, he couldn’t say that he was truly afraid. A manifesting skill was powerful but it was not invincible.
It was simply a first stage of a strong skill. Its next evolution would be at level hundred, then the next fifty, then the fifty after that. Once you take away the intimidation that came with it simply being a strong skill, there wasn’t much to fear but the owner’s ability to use it.
Aiden raised a hand and made an obscene gesture at Voshret.
Then he charged forward.
The moment he took two steps forward, one of the spears flashed forward. It cut through the air like a thrown javelin. Aiden felt its presence the moment it got within the reach of [Walking Canvas]. It was like being pressed against one side.
He could feel the [Weave of Lesser Force] doing its best to deflect the skill. It would fail, of that he was sure. Even under the current circumstances, the weaving still worked under the command of chance. It wasn’t going to knock back everything.
But there was a positive to it. The weaving was mana based, which meant it could affect things that were mana based.
Aiden swung at the spear as it pierced through the weaving and smashed the phantom spear to the side.
Voshret’s snarl dropped slightly. Another spear shot forward. It was fast, quick. Almost too much for Aiden to follow with his eyes.
He felt the discomfort against his shoulder, like something attempting to push it back at a point. Aiden turned, went low and moved to a pivot. The spear shattered against the ground behind him.
Voshret took a step back, frowned, then took two forward.
Three spears fired forward. Aiden deflected two, switching through sword strikes, and dodged one.
More came and Aiden continued to move through stances. At some point, he wasn’t even sure if he was moving through sword stances at all or just general combat stances.
He didn’t deflect all. He didn’t dodge all. And his interface was there to keep him updated.
[Health 58%]
Aiden moved, unable to give the spears his entire focus. After all, not knowing enough meant that Voshret could just as well join in the attack.
He winced as one of the spears tore a gash in his inner thigh.
[Health 49%]
Aiden wanted to swear, cuss something vile, but he couldn’t. He needed his entire attention on moving and keeping track of Voshret who was currently removing a—
Fuck me!
The bastard was pulling out a health vial from inside his shirt. For most of the fight, neither of them had had the time or opportunity to do it. So now that he did, Voshret was going to replenish his health, heal himself.
It was completely normal and reasonable in a fight. But Aiden would be damned if it didn’t feel like the man was cheating.
Aiden moved into a spin, avoiding another spear. Then, with all the might he could muster, he threw his sword. It went flying through the air.
Voshret panicked at the sudden action and dropped the open vial as he scrambled away from the sword. It whizzed passed him and into the distance.
In the air above, one of the spears faded out of existence before fading back in.
Focus, Aiden realized as Voshret shot him a glare. He needs focus to hold the skill intact.
That was all Aiden needed to know. One of the spears shot at him but was knocked a bit to the side. It went slightly off course but still cut an injury in Aiden’s shoulder.
Aiden leaned forward, angled his body, and positioned his leg. Then he activated a skill.
[You have used skill Leap]
He felt power gather to his leg. Where he would jump high, with his angled position, he dashed forward.
Voshret’s eyes widened as he came for the man and he raised his spear to skewer Aiden. The spear was forced to the side the moment it got within reach of Aiden’s skill [Walking Canvas]. Voshret was forced back as well.
[Voshret has received Force damage!]
[Knockback takes effect.]
Unarmed, Aiden switched tactics. Above him, three spears winked out of existence as Voshret struggled to get his bearings about him. Aiden ignored them and stepped into Voshret’s personal space.
The man swung his spear, too close to go for a stab. Aiden raised his hand and took the blow to the rib. He felt something crack but refused to dwell on what it was. Instead, he dropped his arm and trapped the spear beneath it, locked between his side and his arm.
Voshret moved, tried to remove the spear. Aiden knew the man would need more power than he had to throw him off. Spear still locked down, Aiden’s hand flashed out in a jab that cracked Voshret’s nose.
The man staggered back once more. With his hand unwilling to release the spear, he didn’t go far. So Aiden helped him. He struck the hand holding the spear with enough power to force it to let go.
The moment the spear was free, Aiden turned. He moved the spear from its trapped position and transitioned into a spear stance. He darted forward as force pressed against his forehead. A phantom spear skewered the air a moment after, but he was already gone from there.
Aiden stabbed forward in his first attack. Voshret avoided it by the skin of his teeth. Aiden moved his hand slightly, slapped Voshret across the face with the flat of the spear blade. Moving gracefully, he thrust the spear forward again.
Destabilized, Voshret tried to survive, to endure. He failed and the spear stabbed a precise hole in his shoulder. His arm went limp as if he’d lost control of it.
Aiden pulled the spear back and stabbed the man in the thigh. It was a deep wound, greater than the gash one of the phantom spears had given him.
The moment he pulled the spear back, Voshret dropped to a knee, face twisted in pain. Above them only one phantom spear remained.
He can still focus.
The focus wasn’t strong, but it was there. And that fact alone was worthy of respect. Not enough respect to save Voshret’s life, though.
The spear took Voshret in his second shoulder, and the tunnel was filled with Voshret’s cry of pain. The smell of freshly cut grass filled the air from the poacher’s spilled vial of health potion as Aiden finally relaxed.
The man was done. The spear in the air remained there, but it struggled to exist. Aiden could scarcely call it a spear at this point.
He looked up at it casually, pointedly, something he couldn’t have dared to do a few moments ago for fear of losing his life.
Then he looked down at Voshret. He leveled the spear and aimed for the man’s head.
“WAIT!” Voshret cried out.
Aiden did.
“You don’t have to do this,” Voshret said. “You don’t have to kill an unarmed man.”
Aiden cocked a brow at that, then looked up at the still struggling spear. It did not disappear.
“If you do this,” Voshret said, making Aiden look back at him, “it will haunt you. You believe you’ll be fine because you’ve killed my men, but you won’t.”
Aiden didn’t bother to look back at the corpses.
“Even if you will be,” Voshret said. “It won’t be as easy as you think. You killed them in self defense. They tried to kill you and you had no choice. You can justiiy that, but not this.”
Aiden took a step closer and Voshret seemed to pale.
“You believe I can’t kill you?” he asked. He allowed his attention move around as he did, paid attention.
For all he knew, anything could come at him.
Voshret shook his head. “You can,” he said. “But it will haunt you. Killing isn’t as easy as it seems. Killing an unarmed man will haunt you. Your life won’t be the same.”
“You are a poacher,” Aiden pointed out. “It’s hard to believe you haven’t killed an unarmed man.”
“And this is what it made me,” Voshret said. “You can be better than me. You should be better. You are the son of a Lord. You have your whole life ahead of you. You can’t let a man like me disrupt your future.”
Aiden couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Well, he could but…
“You are better,” Voshret said. “Take me in. Arrest me. Do the right thing.”
Aiden frowned. What’s his angle?
Around them he couldn’t see anything that stood out as a problem. He couldn’t afford to look behind him for fear of the man in front of him doing something. But he was listening, paying attention with every other sense he had.
Nothing.
“You want me to do the right thing?” he said. “But you haven’t.”
“That’s why my place is as a poacher, staring down a life in jail. You are the son of a Lord.”
Aiden paused, thought. In the end, he saw no angle. The man was simply begging for his life. That was all there was to it. But he was too proud to plead. Too proud to say ‘please.’
“You are a better ma—”
Aiden thrust the spear forward. It found a place in his neck, silencing him. Aiden pulled it free and watched the man bleed from his neck. Blood spurted out and the man’s arms twitched by his side.
He was probably trying to reach for the injury. But both arms were useless, unable to function.
Above them, the last phantom spear was dissolving, its mana being absorbed by the world around it. Something pressed against Aiden’s back as he watched it. It was a feeling. A sensation. It pressed against his entire back. But there was a part at his lower back that was firmer, more precise. Three simple points.
Aiden wanted to sigh. He did not. Instead, he turned, spear flashing in an arc, and cut a clean line across Bora’s neck.
While Voshret continued to struggle in his death throes, Bora slumped forward and passed.
[You have dealt Bora a Fatal Blow!]
[Congratulations! You have slain Bora Lvl 24!]
[You have Leveled Up!]
[Level 38 --> 39]
[You are now Level 39]
He placed a leg on Bora’s body and pushed it, turning the man on his back. He would’ve said it was an unfortunate thing for Bora, but the truth was that it was neither here nor there. Whether the poacher had chosen to attack him or not, his fate had been sealed long ago. If he had remained unconscious, chances were he would’ve died unconscious at Aiden’s hand.
No. Aiden shook his head at the thought. Not in this life.
Voshret’s death had been certain, unchangeable. But Bora had been weak. Aiden could’ve found a way to bind him and imprison him. He needed to remind himself that while he was the man the Order had made him, he didn’t have to leave by all the principles the Order had taught him.
Everyone didn’t have to simply die unless they had to.
Maybe if he had taken his time to stand in front of Bora’s unconscious body, he would have had all this thought and spared the man.
I guess I’ll never know.
The spear in the air finally dissolved into nonexistence, its mana absorbed by the world around it. Voshret finally came to a stop. His death throes ended with a final twitch, a last ode to his life on Nastild.
[Congratulations! You have slain Voshret Lvl 59!]
Aiden stared at the notification for the space of a moment, studied the level as if he couldn’t believe it.
“I’ve got to sit down for this one,” he muttered to himself.
[Achievement unlocked!]
You have brought massacre in resect of itself. Blood has been spilled for the purpose of being spilled and you have brought death. You stand against the laws of nature and have defeated one you should not have been able to. You have slain an enemy 20 levels higher than you.
[You have earned a new title!]
[Giant Slayer]
[Effect: +10% increase in damage when facing opponents 10 or more levels higher than you.]
[Effect: 10% damage resistance when facing opponents 10 or less levels higher than you.]
Power curled around Aiden’s heart like a physical thing. I was strong, powerful. Surprisingly, he felt heavy. He eased himself against the wall but didn’t sit down.
[Congratulations! You have Leveled Up!]
[Congratulations! You have Leveled Up!]
[Congratulations! You have Leveled Up!]
[Congratulations! You have Leveled Up!]
[Congratulations! You have Leveled Up!]
[Congratulations! You have Leveled Up!]
[Congratulations! You have Leveled Up!]
[Congratulations! You have Leveled Up!]
Aiden groaned from the power filling his chest.
[Congratulations! You have Leveled Up!]
[Level 39 --> 48]
[You are now Level 48]
…
[Congratulations Prisoner # 234502385739]
[You have reached level 40.]
[You have gained a class skill]
[You have gained Class skill Broken Weave]
…
[Broken Weave (Mastery 00.00%]
The weaver is his own tool. You are your engraver and your canvas. With your body you weave enchantments into being. And even an incomplete enchantment is, in its own right, an enchantment.
Aiden stared at the latest notification as he finally eased himself down to a seated position. He placed the spear aside, putting it down gently.
Corpses littered the space around him, blood staining the ground in a glossy crimson, reflecting the blue of his light orb. Otid and Taliner were yet to stare from their state of unconsciousness.
Aiden had considered what he would do to the corpses once. Now he was not. He knew Valdan—he hoped he did. The knight would give him a worried expression at best. But he would not ask too many questions. He would not pry.
Do you want him to?
Aiden didn’t have the answer to that. His instinct would be to lie, and he found that he didn’t want to lie to the knight.
An incomplete enchantment is, in its own right, an enchantment.
That was contrary to what Aiden knew about enchantments. There were no enchantments that worked when they were not complete. There were things called broken enchantments but those were different. And very chaotic.
He doubted the skill was the same as a broken enchantment.
Aiden took his mind from the skill for a moment and retrieved a health potion from his belt. In the process of doing so, he realized that he hadn’t used a lot of his enchanted items. Most of them still occupied their pockets.
I defeated someone twenty levels higher with so little enchantments?
The thought didn’t last long in his mind, however. The reason he’d been able to do so was because while he hadn’t used his enchanted items, he had used enchantments.
At this point, the enchanted items were beginning to feel redundant. What purpose were they serving?
He discarded that thought, too. They served a purpose and he would be stupid not to see it. Besides, he couldn’t keep weaving himself. Sometimes he had to use enchantments outside himself to prevent what had happened when he was done with the cave.
He uncorked the vial and drank its contents. Muscles slowly mended themselves. Blood clotted where it had to. Skin stitched back together.
And the power curled around his heart remained. Aiden had come to the understanding that achievements you could meet by killing monsters most likely had a way of meeting them or possible alternatives that could be garnered by killing humans.
It was a worrying thing to think about, but not for people who knew the things he knew. Humans weren’t the only species alive that were sapient. As such, the system wasn’t built for them. Even creatures like Elves and Dwarves and Giants gained titles and achievements from killing humans.
Aiden discarded the empty vial unceremoniously as he waited for Otid and Taliner to wake up or for reinforcements to arrive. While he did, he decided to pay some attention to his newest skill.
Its description was practically the same with [Enchanted Weave] except for the added sentence at the end.
Should be safe to assume that it works the same way, he thought, putting his hands together.
The moment his fingers interlaced he felt the slow flow of mana.
Incomplete, he reminded himself. Broken.
His fingers weaved together, as they did, coming together and separating, he realized what was happening. The flow of the hand-signs were not as rigid as he remembered. There was some level of flexibility. In it, he found himself skipping some signs. His weaving was… incomplete.
Broken.
He shaved off almost forty percent of hand-signs he needed before his interface appeared in front of him.
[You have used Class skill Broken Weave]
…
[You have used Weave of Lesser Endurance]
[Effect: +15% increase in strength]
[Duration: 00:02:52.]
It was twice as fast but not as strong. It was an emergency skill for that little top up when you needed it quickly.
Aiden could find a use or two for it.
For now, however, he sat and waited.
And the curl of power around his heart remained there, never leaving.
[You have achieved one criteria to unlock skill Locked]
…
[You have slain an enemy 20 levels higher than you]
…
[Remaining criteria: Unknown]
Comments
Justas Kondrusevicius
Shouldn’t he be level 49, because he reached level 38 last chapter. Or did killing the poacher leader give him 9 levels instead of 10 as written here. Also, Broken Weave is referred to as Broken Enchant in one line. Apart from that great chapter, liked it very much!
Keven Leigh
Thanks for the chapter.
