The Fool's Freedom

Level up!

You have reached level 102 in Tier Two [Shepherd of the Broken]

+5 Attribute Points

+5 to Mind, Will, Magic

This is bullshit.

Alan rested his palms on his knees panting in the middle of the forest. He had long left the elven Sanctuary behind, opting to not waste his time with stubborn fools. He had wrestled with the thought of inviting Reyvalur into the Dungeon, as a sort of way to help the elf pay respects to his fallen comrades, but all his desire had achieved was making him take a step back in his own self-control, after finally managing to take a step forward.

What was worse was that leveling up was many times harder now. It was probably him being tier two that impeded progress, or perhaps some sort of a System rule that made the path become slower the farther one went.

There were five dead corpses belonging to two-headed jackals-like things called Two-Headed Biters. A misleading name that didn’t pay the bastard beasts enough justice. It was torture killing them. The things just refused to die no matter how he mangled, slashed, or stabbed them. Hearts, guts, lungs, it didn’t matter. Even making holes with [Void Pierce] straight into their skulls wasn’t enough!

The corpse was a bit too generous of a term for what remained of the beasts. Until he crushed both heads, making sure the tiny pea-sized brains and weirdly hard-to-find brains were gone, the creatures never stopped trying to take a bite. His boots had suffered the brunt of attacking disembodied heads more than once. They didn’t regenerate or anything, which would’ve made the whole ordeal truly dangerous. Thankfully, they were also just level 180 or so, but it had taken him a considerable amount of mana and effort to kill them. He didn’t see anyone from the Sanctuaries he had visited managing to do what he had done, especially before a tier-up.

The thought of power-leveling some of his closest friends or those he could turn into allies in time passed through his mind, but that was just another bullshit situation waiting to happen. He couldn’t easily trust anyone, even if they were close to him. The world was built on power, and power corrupted. He could feel it in his own changes. It had built up his confidence, made him less reliant on bullshit, but still… It was difficult to accept himself as one of them when now he was so much different and they wouldn’t understand him. A double-edged sword if he had ever seen one.

Alan moved again, leaving the carnage behind after using one of the cleansing items of Mr. Muge. He didn’t know what he was searching for but fighting for an hour just to kill a bunch of crazed dogs was not on his to-do list anymore. He ran into a few more Two-Headed Biters but ignored them since losing his sanity sounded like a bad trip. They were fast when they attacked, but slow when running after him, so that was not an issue.

Picking his fights proved to be a greater boon than he had imagined, and his speed was the greatest contributor to that. Nothing he ran into could keep up with him in the forest. He was sure he would eventually find some strange mutated beasts or monsters, but for now, he enjoyed the scenery.

He ran for a long time, slowly letting his mana regenerate, while dodging dangers left and right. It was becoming harder to keep track of distance, and the sun soon set. The darkness seemed to welcome him, and the shadows followed his every step. His eyes were used to it now, allowing him to see with preternatural clarity.

He ran through the night, until finally, there was a change in the landscape sometime after dawn. A valley that started with a sharp descent appeared before him. The vegetation changed as if someone had simply decided that the forest should end, and be replaced by something… disgusting. The stuff of horrors and wrong choices.

Alan cursed. Mushrooms were not his thing, and even less so when some of them seemed to uproot themselves and then hop back into place, just a tad closer to the edge of the large valley, which was mostly made of dark barren soil. Like a circle stopping the mushrooms from crossing it or something. Were they contained?

This… is the worst. He still descended, using his shadows to coat his limbs, using them as claws. He was exploring after all, and turning around after all this running would’ve been foolish, even if it was pure evil before him. He wanted to level up, to get new skills, to improve, and to forget the elves. He didn’t know if returning to them would be productive. If he ever did.

The edge of the valley was just soft and moist soil that allowed him to sink a few centimeters and killed any hope of maintaining his speed. A slight sensation of discomfort overcame him and he looked around, wondering what was its source. His danger sense didn’t awaken to warn him, nor did he notice any of the hopping mushrooms nearby. They were staying just on the edge of the soil, like soldiers awaiting an order. The ones before him were larger than they had appeared from above, but even the tallest was only as tall as him. He had seen bigger ones in the distance though. Much bigger ones.

Carefully, he took out his staff and cast [Void Pierce] on one of the closest ones. His eyes widened as a thin, pale, almost unnoticeable dot appeared on the mushroom. What the fuck? Is that it?

He reached for the curse connection and pulled some life force to fuel [Sacrificial Attack]. The combined skill went off again, leaving a bigger mark and taking a part of the mushroom, in the form of a small dent

Then, all hell broke loose. And hell in this instance was a cloud of spores that burst from the cap of the mushroom he had attacked, followed by those around doing the same. The spores flew in the air like a cloud of flies, quite fast, but not fast enough to scare him. He watched it slowly come for him and retreated toward the cliff he had climbed down, the thought of retreating playing at the back of his mind.

When the cloud was a few meters away, Alan paled. [Mortal Peril] rang in his head like a death knell, promising a gruesome end if he delayed any longer. Without hesitation, Alan rushed back and started climbing up the cliff using his shadowy claws. He spared no effort, and yet…

The spores followed, like sentient beings. They were slow but also coming closer each time he looked down, making his heart beat loudly.

He heard sizzling and looked down once again, then screamed as his prized boot started disintegrating, along with his foot. Without delaying any longer the [Shepherd’s Shroud] appeared around him like a mantle of almost translucent shadows and coated him. His Will followed, spreading around and stealing the color from the world. The rocks started cracking slowly, breaking apart into tiny pebbles and the spores slowed down as they met the invisible force.

He felt the drain then. It was unlike anything before, making his mind buzzing with the coming exhaustion. His Will manifest was a wall of ice, and it was melting fast, despite the boost from the [Shepherd’s Shroud] making it so much stronger.

With a last burst of effort, Alan managed to grab the edge and flung himself over and into the trees. He fell hard, as his foot was killing him. He coated it in shadows and fled as fast as he could. The spores didn’t seem to follow beyond the cliff’s edge, thankfully.

Finally, settling down into the roots of a giant tree, Alan took a breath of relief. Then his eyes widened. His mana, which had been almost full before that, was more than two-thirds gone.

How? I didn’t cast anything but [Shadow Creation]. What the hell? Was it the soil or the spores? He had felt weird when had stepped onto the soft dark soil, but he had attributed it to the environment. How didn’t I notice this?

He took out one of the potions stolen during the dragon ritual and poured some of it on his leg. His boot was done for, and his skin was partly melted too. The potion sizzled for a bit on top of his leg and did nothing. It was to be expected, considering the effects of [Empty Vitality], but Alan had opted to try it nevertheless.

Closing his eyes, he redirected his mana toward his flesh and got to work. This was going to be a long day.

******

“You think you have all the cards, don’t you?” Cole snarled, making Tim sigh from behind him. The man had gone from despair and crying, to a blind rage that had already landed a few into the beds of the healers. It was futile though. “He will turn on you too! Just you wait bitch!”

“I don’t think anything. I can’t control what Alan does, no one can,” Rosalyn said. She was calm, but there was newfound steel in her. Tim didn’t like that. The support in the face of Alan, who had come, wreaked havoc, and disappeared somewhere was too much.

Many had wondered what exactly had changed in the man, but Tim knew. It was just a tier-up. He wasn’t sure what that meant but if there were tiers of being, rather than simply changing one’s class for a better one, then that could explain a lot. His healing skills didn’t do anything to what he assumed was an elaborate curse. He couldn’t even find it, even if Cole was constantly suffering its effects.

And Mayra the [Warlock] was the same too. The girl looked even worse than before. Her dark makeup was smudged and applied haphazardly, as if by a trembling hand, and she kept flinching and muttering to herself.

Two very different effects. One assaulted the vitality, the other the mind. It was terrifying.

“We can just kill you all before he comes back,” Cole threatened.

He couldn’t. Tim wouldn’t allow such foolishness, nor would he go against someone as powerful just for the sake of an idiot like Cole. They had lost the fight for control long ago, and now Alan’s return cemented it.

“Kill?” a deep tired voice asked. It was not Rosalyn that had spoken, nor one of her followers, but the silent Emerson. The giant man slowly rose from his position and moved forward. His presence was one of untold violence, and Tim shuddered when he briefly met his eyes.

That was Cole’s biggest mistake. It was not a single monster that had returned from wherever Emerson and Alan had been sent, but two. Emerson was obviously still the same as them in level, even weaker than most, but whether it was experience or sheer presence, he outclassed everyone in the room.

Tim was sure the man could kill them single-handedly if it came to that. There were rumors he was refusing to fight, but trusting rumors was the dumbest thing to do in their current situation. The weakest – the oldest and the children, were almost hailing Alan as a savior, and Rosalyn probably had an indirect hand in that.

Creating a figurehead, a symbol, was what united people. That’s why many causes, that should’ve have even been created in the first place, grew so much. People needed a place to belong, and the fractured and disorganized Sanctuary had lacked it, until now.

“You will kill no one, but yourself,” Emerson said. Why was he even here?

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Do you think we can’t sense your level? You’re weak and pathetic, and I’d advise you to sit down.” Cole spat, his eyes crazy.

Emerson simply nodded. Then stepped forward again, crossing the empty distance that separated the two camps. They were using one of the community halls to speak of things. It was Cole’s demand for everyone to be able to hear, but no matter how much he had tried to paint Alan as a monster, no one trusted him.

Tim could see it in their eyes. This was lost.

“We should fall back,” Tim finally said, earning himself a furious look from Cole.

Emerson stood before them, eyeing Cole. Few of the [Fighters] squared up to the large man, trying to intimidate him as a bronze sheen covered their bodies, reinforcing them.

“You will kill no one,” the large man repeated, his eyes never straying. His voice was calmer now, as strange gray energy started circling around him. His arm shot out, suddenly clad in a steely gauntlet that gave it even more bulk, and grabbed one of the [Fighters] by the head, while another fell to the ground, his skill canceled and his eyes wide. “I think, I should help get some things in order since my brother has other work. And you,” he pointed at Cole, “will live only because he finds use for you.”

Tim felt it then. The antithesis to his healing. It was not about attributes, levels, or skills. This was something more.

Something Tim had briefly touched upon, but never managed to quite grasp. A deeper meaning to things. A deeper and elusive truth of the universe. A path to power.