The Fool's Freedom

Alan managed to gather a few crystals from the tails of the dead creatures before moving on. Now that he had seen more of them, he saw their teeth were also tinted blue. It was simply a different shade. He doubted the crystal at the end of the tail was responsible for that.

The elves had fought weirdly after the initial attack. Perhaps Mr. Muge would be thankful for the additional material to examine. Alan almost slapped his head as he remembered what the man had given him and took out the ‘identifier’ from his shadow inventory. He took one of the crystals and looked at it through the strange tool.

Minor Disorienting Gem

Oh? Neat. It works amazingly. So that’s not a poison pouch or something similar. What useful ability these little bastards have.

He pocketed as many as he found, although it was not quite easy. There were a few of the creatures that were only hurt by his burst of shadows and he had to finish them off, which didn’t feel great. His experiment with the shadow nova had created a new clearing, with halved and broken trees and quite a few of the beast corpses cut apart. It hadn’t been a thin blade going out, but a few at different heights as a way to make sure he got as many as possible. It had made sense, and [Shadow Creation] seemed to allow for quite the creative freedom. Something he hadn’t explored quite enough yet. His new attributes were proving to be a great power-up for his skills as well. Perhaps that was the path forward for his skill’s eventual advancement.

Using the sense of direction he had gotten from the corpse Alan turned to leave, but something stopped him. A strange feeling tugged at his mind and the whispers of his shadows grew just a bit louder.

He turned around and returned to the remains of the elf. His skill was long over, but… there was something he was forgetting to do. Then, as if summoned by his confusion the thinnest most transparent thread of something shadowy left the skull of the dead elf and slowly rose. It looked to be on the verge of being extinguished any minute, and yet it persisted. He doubted anyone else would sense or see it.

Is that a sliver of will? Like the ones whispering to me? Not a remnant of the shadowless that came with the [Monochrome’s Armor] changes, but all left of the dead elf in this world?

Alan reached with his hand. An almost instinctive movement that prompted a System message.

Do you wish to absorb a sliver of lost will?

Sure.

The shadow disappeared and nothing more happened for a few moments. Alan felt just the tiniest amount of anger and desire for vengeance wash through him, but it was like a long-lost memory and not enough to even put a crack into his calmness.

You have gained +1 Will

Now that was a surprise. Was it a passive effect of his (Ancient) skill, or due to the change that had come from the Legacy he held? The woman, Sayia, whispered rarely but helped him a lot, unlike the other remnants whose constant muttering did little even when he understood it. It happened often, but it was easy to ignore the directions of the voices and their strange asks. She was closer to the spirits in that regard, but Alan felt her closer than them. That’s why her presence terrified him more than anything else.

Still, if he could grow his Will just like that… No. Perhaps it was due to his usage of the [Will of the Dead] that such a thing had happened. He was the [Shepherd of the Broken] after all, and who could call themselves broken more than that unfortunate elf?

He was not going to overuse the skill though. Something told him that things wouldn’t go as well as they had with [Monochrome Armor] if he did.

I wonder what would’ve happened if I had picked any other skill in its place.

Alan sighed and continued down through the forest without looking back. His thoughts returned to the shadow nova and how he could improve it. Maybe sending more pulses was one route. Wave after wave of destructive and corrosive shadow mana, permeated with his will that accepted no defenses. It was a good area of effect skill, especially if he found himself surrounded, although the concentrated power of a regular shadow slash was still stronger.

If he could use his [Chains of the Dark Servants] as the source of the skill… he had underutilized that one, preferring to go for lesser versions that didn’t require vitality to use. However now that he had Cole, who was turning out to be a great supplier of lifeforce, there was nothing to worry about.

Alan smirked as he imagined how freaked out the man was. The parasite in the fractal had probably noticed its vitality fleeing, but it had surely lacked the intelligence to know the reason or exactly what was happening.

Cole on the other hand would be badgered with System messages anytime Alan used [Sacrificial Attack] or any other skill requiring life. And since he could store life energy inside of himself, then he could just pull a bit every now and then and keep the man on his toes.

It was cruel, but Alan didn’t care. The other option was slaughter which felt meaningless in a way. There would be nothing to gain from it. The way he looked at it now he was punishing and seeing the limits of his skill. Just for the hell of it he tugged on the connection and felt a drop of life force reach him and settle unused and unneeded.

The forest grew even darker, as if the emulate the feeling of the world Alan had seen in the vision from the elf. Perhaps the whole world was broken into small patches around each Sanctuary, trying to make its inhabitants feel at home.

He rushed fast, ignoring the beasts on his way. None were as dangerous as the Felins he had so easily slaughtered and while there were some large presences that were like glowing spots in his mana perception, he kept going toward the elven Sanctuary without worry. It took him most of what was left of the day to reach it, which was surprising since that meant the elven party had gone quite far out of their way. Maybe I should’ve asked more questions.

He hadn’t looked for tracks, but he doubted there would be any left. The state of the elven corpse was enough to assume that the events had transpired quite some time ago.

Sometime after the trees started leaving more space to pass through and the foliage was not as overwhelming, Alan stopped. Before him was what looked like a pretty dark and unwelcoming place. There was nothing reminiscent of Sanctuary 142 – the only one he had seen so far. Neither past nor present. The one before him was seemingly dug into a hill, with jagged rock walls surrounding it and all sorts of strangely constructed houses peeking through the walls. Large trees were growing in the middle of it and some were used to house small treehouses that hung like fruits from the mighty branches or connected different trees. They were larger than the ones outside as if grown specifically for the task. Perhaps something that could be attributed to the World Temple? Alan hadn’t asked Rosalyn what improvements she had made or what management options she was given as a leader.

It was difficult to see everything from his vantage point and even rushing to the top of a tree did little to help with that, but it was enough to give him an idea of how the elves lived. He briefly regretted not looking closer into the memories of the dead one, but if he had tried to cover each avenue he’d still be there. And the skill had limits. It was taxing to the mind.

Alan jumped down and walked forward without fear. He felt a twinge of mana and used [Void Step] to dodge an arrow that exploded into the ground near his previous position. Smirking, he rushed faster toward the wall. Yells and words reached his ears and the shapes of crouching elves could be seen between the tops of the jagged stone walls.

“I come in peace!” Alan yelled, then chuckled to himself. Tell them you come in peace while rushing toward their defenses like a madman made from shadows. Genius.

The elves shot again, this time more than a dozen arrows flew toward him and Alan actually felt a hint of danger. No matter the difference in attributes and skills, it was still not a good idea to tank anything with his physical attributes. He was stronger and faster and not only due to the increase in numbers, but he still didn’t think he could rival anyone who truly focused on the physical side of things without his magic.

Thankfully, he was too fast for them at his current speed and reached the base of the wall before another volley could be let loose. There were no doors in sight so he sighed and used [Warlock Body Mastery] to boost his legs before jumping. He wanted to advance the skill soon. What it gave him was still pretty awesome, but the boost didn’t seem able to keep up with his current needs.

It still allowed him to reach almost the top of the wall and his hands which briefly took the shape of draconic claws covered in shadows did the rest as he clawed his way up. Finally, he stood on top of a wooden platform erected to house the defenders, surrounded by elves that were baring their sharp teeth and carrying all sorts of bladed weapons. He noticed a few staff wielders, who were probably the healers and mages of the Sanctuary.

There were very few of them.

“Hi,” he said with a wave that made the shadows covering his arm dissipate dramatically. He left a lot of them to curl around him, making him look like a shadowy being straight up from nightmares. He was doing it intentionally and he let his will spread around, stealing color from the world, not that there was much to steal.

The elves gasped and took a few steps back before a yell made them freeze. A large warrior barreled up the wooden ramp and toward them. Alan didn’t recognize him, and looking around there were no signs of Reyvalur.

His eyes were drawn to a part of the Sanctuary on the other side that was completely demolished, as if something large and heavy had rampaged through the barriers and walls and wrecked the place. There were deep cuts in the ground too, reminiscent of what was left by his shadow slashes, only larger.

They had their fair share of troubles it seems.

“Who are you?” the large warrior asked with a deep voice. His chest was bare and a hammer rested on his shoulder.

“Are you the chief?” Alan asked.

The elf bared his teeth and so did many others. “You can talk to me as if I was. What do you want? Speak, or die.”

Alan looked around. While they looked ready to pounce, he was not worried. He could vaguely sense their strength, and while they struck him as more dangerous than those in his Sanctuary, be it due to their nature or training, no one was a tier two, or even on the verge of reaching it.

“Is there anyone named Reyvalur among you? We ran a dungeon together some time ago,” he asked.

No gasps. No surprise. Few worried glances. The large elf shook his head. “Reyvalur sinned and has been forced to abandon his warrior class and become a regenerator. His punishment is performing a sacred duty, and no outsider will be allowed to meet with him.” He hesitated briefly before speaking again. “I know who you are, vaguely. He spoke of a… human settlement nearby, but after everything that’s happened, we’re wary of strangers. How can we trust you?”

Regenerator? What is that supposed to mean?

Alan shrugged. “I haven’t killed you all yet, and I could if I wanted to. I’m just exploring, to be honest, wondering if anything is interesting around here to do. Dungeons, treasure hoards, dangerous beasts to slay… those rotting screaming things?”

The elf hissed and so did many others. “You think yourself so strong?” he asked in a low voice. “Do not be arrogant, human.”

You don’t know anything. Arrogance is my middle name. Pretty weird for no one to sense my strength even when I’m projecting it. Or perhaps those who do, don’t care about this oaf.

“Listen, let’s skip the posturing. Just tell me the details, let me see Reyvalur, and I’ll be on my way.”

“Fight!” One of the elves yelled out. Soon the rest followed, starting a weird chant that gave Alan the creeps.

The large elf grinned, showing off as many sharp teeth as possible. “Prove yourself worthy, if you claim to be a friend, and then we’ll talk.”

Ugh, fine. “Sure. Is it your ass I have to kick?”