N. G. Blackwood
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Chapter 23 - Hard life
🕑 Added 2025-03-05 16:35:01 +0000 UTCThis time, he paid closer attention to his surroundings. The settlement wasn’t large—only a few hundred yards across, with a single main street lined with buildings. The people had done their best to restore what remained from the past while constructing new ones. A wooden wall surrounded the place, though it looked natural, blending into the environment. It seemed to serve more as camouflage than as a true defense.
The people lived lives of hardship. Some worked to improve their crafts, while others did their best to stay quiet and avoid drawing attention. Most likely something that was ingrained in them from a young age.
But more than anything, Erik noticed each of them performing… peculiar acts.
"What is he doing?" he asked his escorts, pointing to a man sitting beside one of the houses, rocking back and forth while murmuring to himself.
"He is trying to improve his Ability. In his case, his Talent allows him to change his voice."
That's quite a useless one... Erik thought.
He knew that there was no such thing as a useless Talent, but some were definitely less… impactful than others.
What struck him as odd was the way the man was trying to improve his Ability. Erik was still new to all of this, inexperienced, and the information available to youths like him had always been restricted. So while he didn’t know much about the Path of Refinement, he did know that this was not how Abilities were meant to be developed.
He couldn’t quite explain it, but something about it seemed… wrong. Like someone trying to learn how to swim by flailing about on dry land.
It seemed that Thrane had noticed his expression because he said, "It’s this land that has cursed us."
"It’s not the land that’s the issue…"
Well, the people here existed within a Whisper, and the only way to progress on the Path of Refinement was by conquering Higher-Rank ones. But for them, that was impossible. As far as Erik knew, no one born inside a Whisper had ever managed to leave. They didn't even know they're in one. He suspected the creatures and humans within were nothing more than illusions.
This also made him realize how little he actually knew about Whispers. Were the worlds inside them real or just fabrications? Could the people trapped here actually grow stronger? He doubted it, but at the very least, they should have been able to hone their Skills and Abilities.
"It’s your approach," he finally said. "You’re meant to improve by pushing yourself, not by standing around and practicing in isolation."
The man shook his head. "The valley is too dangerous. It’s best to remain here and train in safety."
I see... It's their mentality that's the problem.
Erik refrained from making further comments. This wasn’t something he could change their minds about—it had taken generations to adopt and was deeply rooted in their way of life.
As they continued walking, he remembered something.
Where do they get their food? Well, food is perhaps a strong word for that much.
Just then, a few villagers came onto the main street carrying baskets woven from vines. Inside them was a scattering of odd roots and plants.
“Do you have planting fields?”
“Not exactly. There are a few gardens around the village. Between those and the insects we scavenge, it’s enough to get us by.”
Erik kept his expression neutral. He had also resorted to all sorts of things when times had gotten tough over the years.
They have indeed been living a hard life.
After a few dozen heartbeats, they entered a building toward the end of the village. It appeared to be a small storage house, as it held all sorts of supplies.
His backpack and other belongings were in one corner.
He strapped his hatchet to his belt and made sure everything was accounted for. Aside from his food, everything else was there.
“So when are we leaving?”
“Give us a bit of time. We’ll be ready in about an hour.”
The villagers set about preparing themselves.
While he waited, Erik examined his Kill Runes—the ones he had acquired for killing Nilgrims.
How am I so unlucky?
After all that, he still had not received a Blessing.
Refiners usually had an entire arsenal of Blessings. They were extremely practical since they didn’t need to be carried. In their dormant state, they existed as Blood Runes on the body of the Talent Holder. And when needed, they could be easily summoned into existence using the Rune Bearer’s essence.
But the most incredible thing about them was their powerful enchantments. If he could just get his hands on a suit of armor or a strong weapon, his chances of surviving the Whisper would increase significantly.
He sighed wistfully.
After a while, the small group left the building. Each of the villagers carried a couple of waterskins, fashioned from plants.
“How long will it take us?”
“That depends on how things are in the valley. The trail to the abandoned outpost is usually quiet, but with the swarm closing in… we don’t know.”
The group took a narrow trail heading south.
At first, their progress was slow, but they soon settled into a rhythm. The putrid stench of the swamp and decaying forest clung to the air, ever-present.
Their travel was made difficult primarily because they had to pace themselves and use the small amount of water they had extremely sparingly. The thirst was constantly hanging over them. And it was even more torturous because the swamp was full of water—well, polluted water.
As Erik moved through the dying land, he couldn’t help but think, perhaps this land really is cursed somehow.
“Have you folk never thought of just braving the mountains?” Erik asked.
I can’t imagine all of them just accepting their fate.
“Some have over the years, but none have returned. It’s better this way… having people beside you, struggling together, is better than facing the unknown alone. But now, with the swarm closing in, we don’t have a choice.”
“I see.”
Still, Erik knew that if he had been in their position, he would have attempted to leave. Then again, he was lucky to have grown up outside. Who knew what his mentality would be like if he had been raised here?
After a few hours of travel, stretching into the late afternoon, the group finally reached the outpost.
It was positioned on a small hill, well concealed by the decaying forest while still offering good visibility over the southeastern part of the valley.
Like the village, it consisted of a cluster of stone buildings, but these were in far worse condition. They were arranged in a circle, with the smallest on the outskirts and the largest at the center.
The group proceeded cautiously. They needed to ensure the area was clear of creatures before searching for skeletons.
“Do you know where we can find human remains?” Erik whispered.
“Yes, in the largest building at the back. That’s where they all are.”
“Thrane, are you sure about this? I still think this kid is leading us by the nose. It’s probably a trap,” the most annoying one among them muttered nervously.
That man had been grumbling ever since they picked him up from the prison, but it seemed his nerves were now getting strained.
“The village chief said so. And we don’t have a choice. We need water,” Thrane responded.
The man threw Erik a dirty look and continued grumbling under his breath.
They moved slowly, weaving between the buildings. No sounds came from anywhere—only eerie silence. It set all of them on edge.
The muddy ground didn’t help, making it difficult to move quietly. Some of the buildings had collapsed into heaps of rubble, while those still standing were completely barren inside. No furniture. No decorations. Nothing.
In the absence of anything, however, there was also something they desired. It appeared to be free of any creatures.
Finally, they reached the doors of the largest building.
Heavy and rusted, the metal doors took all four of them to push open.
What unfolded before Erik was a sea of bones. He didn’t know how many people had perished here, but it was undoubtedly a lot.
Skeletal feet, hands, and skulls jutted out in every direction. Some seemed to stare directly at him, sending a chill down his spine.
"What happened here?" he whispered.
“We don’t know… Our best guess is that a group of survivors from around the time the city fell made some sort of last stand and slaughtered, regardless.”
Erik gazed at the disturbing sight. He couldn't imagine what it must have been like.
“So, what now?” Thrane asked.
The young man gulped and got to work. He walked up to the nearest most well-preserved skeleton and willed it to life—or un-life. He still wasn’t sure how his Talent worked.
He also realized he didn’t know why these skeletons remained lifeless while the ones in the city became Draugr. There was so much he needed to learn, but for now, he just needed loyal minions.
As teal mist seeped from his hand into the bones, teal sparks ignited in the skeleton’s eye sockets. Those otherworldly eyes gazed at him, waiting for his orders.
Are they a little bit brighter?
He couldn’t tell but felt like they had. Maybe it was a result of his minions getting stronger, which he definitely had noticed. Even the other day in the mine, they could walk and fight, unlike the first ones he raised, which couldn’t even stand.
“Vile,” one of the villagers whispered.
Erik looked over his shoulder. All three of them were tense, gripping their crude weapons. Even Thrane had a look of disgust on his face.
But they made no further remarks.
Erik proceeded to raise two more Undead before feeling lightheaded.
Three is my current limit.
As his Talent Rune and those related to it became more complete, he was becoming more aware of his essence and how much he had left.
He could tell he was recovering it, much slower but still recovering, despite the Draugr moving about. This meant he only needed essence to summon them, not to maintain them. But he also sensed something else—he would not be able to recover to his full capacity. It seemed that as long as he had active minions, his essence reserves would remain limited.
“You can tame the Undead?” Thrane asked. Despite his more controlled expression, he still wore a slight frown.
“I don’t tame the Draugr. It’s more like raising them before the skeletons have fully become one themselves.”
“What did you just call them?”
“Draugr. That’s what experienced Refiners call them,” Erik said with a raised chin and proud, self-satisfied smirk that he knew their ancient name.
Calm yourself down, you fool! You are not even fully Awakened, he chastised himself.
“I see. Is this how you’re going to get to the water source?” Thrane asked, still frowning.
“Yeah… unless you want to die of thirst? Maybe the swarm will get to you before that happens.”
None of them replied.
He turned to his new minions and pointed at some of the remains. “Pick up those bones and use them as weapons from now on.”
Once that was done, he turned to the three men.
“I’m ready. Are we setting off now?”
“No, we won’t make it before nightfall, and it’s best to set up camp beforehand. One of the smaller buildings should provide us with decent shelter.”
The group set off toward one of the outer buildings, the three Draugr trailing in their wake. It was still standing, with only a few small holes in the roof, and it was good enough of a shelter for the night despite lacking doors and having broken windows.
“This will do,” Thrane said.
They then went about setting up camp. Some gathered firewood while others put up tents. They made sure the fire’s light would be covered so it wouldn’t be visible at night.
After some time, everything was set. The four of them gathered around the campfire, eating some of their provisions for supper. The villagers had taken Erik’s food, so he was left with whatever the others had brought. And, of course, they had brought his favorite.
More mush. I swear, if I survive this, I’m eating like a king, Erik thought, purposefully choosing to forget that he was also broke.
Suddenly, there was the sound of wood breaking, followed by a loud thud outside.
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