The Fool's Freedom

Alan tried to emulate the monster, and as he dodged another spear, threw his own. It was a weak throw and fell very short of its target. His strength was quite high compared to before – definitely higher than any pre-system human’s.

But it was not high compared to the new standards in the system-ruled world. The spear flew for a while and then fell apart without achieving anything. It was a casual thing. Even if it had hit, it would’ve been like a pebble thrown at a train. Alan half-expected the man-spider to laugh at him, but other than continuing its constant silent chase, it did nothing more.

There goes that. Maybe I can propel it with magic? He had done something similar before. At least he was quite sure he had. [Shadow Creation] was a versatile skill and it seemed to respond well to experimenting and instinctual use. It was when he tried to achieve something concrete that Alan struggled. It was easier to improvise in the middle of a fight.

The shadows formed slowly and depended on him to feed them mana. They could last long away from him, and he has used them as markers before. They were a part of himself he was always conscious about.

The monster kept coming and throwing spears, in a cycle that grew dull quickly. Alan tried a few times to emulate it. He made spikes and shot them out. The speed was there at a short range, but there was no power at all. His will’s effect of breaking everything apart was slow and cumulative, so constant exposure was the best way to make it work against enemies that were not susceptible to it.

Growing tired of wasting mana with no result, Alan let the monster come near. He was confident in his speed, but the first melee attack surprised him. The creature had quite the reach. Its humanoid arms were long and seemed to not be limited by things such as joints or tight muscles.

It swept with the spear, and Alan ducked only for the spear’s haft to strike him diagonally – a swipe had turned into a push. The strength rattled his teeth and sent him into the wall. He created some shadows that took most of the impact and cursed at the thing.

It hurt. Not much, but there was pain. Pain meant damage. His body moved despite it, so nothing was broken. Perhaps his bones were stronger than he gave them credit for. That was a good thing.

Doing as he had during the fight with the giant, he created tendrils of shadow at his back and used them to crawl around the wall and speed up even further. They had some strength in them, perhaps similar to his own, possibly fueled by a different attribute. That was something he had neglected experimenting with. How strong could his [Shadow Creation] limbs be?

It was easier to move like this now that he had some practice. The creature did the same as before and chased after.

Spear after spear crashed with loud booms at the cave wall, while Alan experimented repeatedly. He formed spears, spikes, and knives. He knew his shadow creations were tough, especially when he held them. However, they seemed to lose that when he threw them away.

It was interesting.

[Chains of the Dark Servants] didn’t do that.

There was a lull in the flow of mana. Alan threw himself to the side. His shadows appeared to block an invisible attack and shattered, worthless. A dark-blade appeared out of nowhere. It cut through his shoulder only stopping at his bone. Alan dodged the second strike that came from the other side for his neck, his shadows failing to stop it. The monster held a newly formed spear in one hand, but his other was stretched forward. The fingers twitched with a strange dark light.

Alan sensed the mana clearer now. He sensed the pull and the strange force pouring out of the creature. It was using magic. He hadn’t seen what had struck him, but it was dangerous.

It’s so similar to mine…

Another attack came. The blade was as dark as the room, somehow blending in. It was difficult to sense even with Alan’s heightened mana sensitivity. He fled. The blade followed, cutting at his feet, trying to gut him, and going for the neck. He managed to deflect it, using his dagger. The strength behind it was enormous and left his limbs tingling. The one thing that saved him was that his shadows seemed stronger when he held them and infused them with his Will.

How strange I hadn’t noticed that before… It made sense, somewhat.

It took him a few seconds to build some more distance, and finally, the monster’s hand went down.

He hoped this meant he was out of range. It was seriously doubtful that the creature was spent. The fight had just begun, after all. It chittered after him and Alan felt his stomach sink. This was another fight that was too difficult…

No. I refuse to give up.

With a grunt of annoyance, Alan pulled some of Cole’s fickle life force and fueled the skill he had just thought about. Dark shadowy figures walked out of the darkness and threw ropes that seemed to fly on their own. They wrapped around some of the limbs of the man spider and for the first time, the constant chittering of its legs stopped.

Cole’s life force was but a thin thread now. Alan could cut it at any time, but he held off on that. He didn’t want the man dead. It felt wrong. If he was going to kill, it would be face to face. Not like this.

I’ve become too dependent on stealing lifeforce. It’s a great skill, and it seems to have many branches, but… it's unreliable. He was running out of it. His only option was placing a curse mark on the man-spider, but foolishly he hadn’t prepared any. It took just a few moments now, but sometimes a few moments were too precious.

And, even if he had one, it was uncertain the skill would work. The giant had resisted it. Perhaps it had been an effect of all the jaderin ore it had consumed in time, or a particularly high attribute. Perhaps it was its nature as a boss.

Alan didn’t know, and it was too late to mull over it.

Without the life force to coat his blades and fuel his attacks, he felt weak. Like the lost patronless [Warlock] that had struggled and suffered due to his mistakes and inadequacy. It was wrong. He was not that person anymore. He had changed too much.

He couldn’t bear feeling like he had felt before. There were issues to deal with, sure. But some things were to be left in the past, lest they fester and grow like tumors.

The dark magic of the monster struck again, but Alan was too far out of reach. It seemed a foolish attempt. A lashing out due to anger. And yet… it was stronger than Alan’s own magic. Both were of the dark variety; he could sense it. His shadows were darkness, change, and death.

The magic of the creature before him was similar. It was destructive and suffocating. And so much stronger.

No. Not stronger. Refined. Alan scoffed.

A deep sense of buried pride once again surfaced and made Alan’s growing rage shift. He dodged a spear, letting it pass him by mere centimeters.

The anger twisted and moved away from pointing toward himself. Rather, it turned against the world. The surroundings. His current enemy.

He was a Scion, an inheritor of unknowable legacies and knowledge. He was connected to a Dragon via blood. All thoughts of going out and helping his people disappeared, replaced by a desire for violence.

He wanted to be stronger. He wanted to win. He wanted to kill.

A moment of lucidity left him shaking. He was shattered. Broken. So many sides taking over, so many currents, each pulling him in a different direction. He was failing his skills and the gifts of all he had met. The many opportunities he had gotten were losing to a mere monster trapped in a Dungeon by the unfeeling System.

The anger quickly plugged the hole and settled down. Its heat became cold steel. Slowly. Like a blade forged in a forge.

It hurt.

His will churned around him and he dodged again. The monster struggled against its bindings, lashing at them with its next spear, only for it to harmlessly pass through the chains. Its magic struck at the silhouettes and Alan felt something. It wasn’t supposed to work, but it was.

The dark blade didn’t damage them directly, nor did it cut them apart. But it weakened his so-called servants. His will permeating the chains was also not doing more than leaving marks upon the chitinous limbs.

Yet…

How wonderful skills were.

How marvelous.

Alan’s mind sank deep into the strange sensation. So angry, yet so calm. He remembered that feeling of suffocating strength. The ecstasy of standing on top of the world and ending tens of lives in but a second. The [Bestowment]. No that was not his strength.

The [Hateful Mist Cut] was another. So strong. So simple. All his skills were complicated. Exhausting.

Destruction was simple.

The shadows whispered, coming like a wave. Urgent. Dark. Inviting. Beautiful laughter came from somewhere behind them, buried, or perhaps hiding for now. Another voice sighed but stayed. A silent presence that had just emerged, refusing to be swept away.

Again, laughter.

However, this time, something else called too. A grumble. Wings. Finally a roar. A mix of a human scream and a dragon’s voice defying the will of the heavens.

Alan’s mind shook as he realized he was the one screaming, and he was no dragon. The cold anger was still there, but… it was different yet again. His will was all around him, twisting the darkness. Shadows billowed around, but they were different too.

Somewhat empty.

And in their emptiness, he found balance. The mana flowed all around him and his enemy. It flowed through them. It was everything.

His body moved on its own. The wound was but an itch at the back of his mind. His mana swirled around it, mending flesh and stitching it together as if it were simple cloth.

Alan swung with his right hand. [True Edge] was somewhere beneath the dark will that wrapped around it, forming into a giant blade. It was like a shadow slash, but more.

A [Void Step] brought him close just in time. The monster instantly started casting its magic.

Alan cut.

Anger. Coldness. Pride. A strange mixture of emotions, some dear, some foreign.

All the worst things that drove people. Alan put it all into the strike.

It was similar to the shadow slash he loved so much, yet fundamentally different. A blade made of shadows, but also a blade of void emptiness.

A straight cut. A line of emptiness born out of shadows. From up, to down.

The creature didn’t scream, nor did it react as its arm was gone, cut at the shoulder. It had moved in the last second.

Alan felt something cut at him too. The sensation was strange. His skin, flesh, and organs, were torn apart just like that. Was that what his enemies felt? He almost fell to the ground, but stepped back just in time, and swung again.

The same simple movement, following something he hadn’t realized was there. A flow. A stream of mana. So small it was impossible to see. So important, it was like the sun.

The monster tilted its body, but the attack found it again, leaving a dark mark on its spider part and removing two of the bound legs.

Alan felt something scrape his ribs. Another found his collarbone. He had somehow managed to move in time and avoid having his neck cut.

How fun.

He ignored the System messages. There would hopefully be time for that.

For the third time, he cut.

And as the blade traveled, longer than before, faster than before, smoother than before, whatever remained of the emotions that had come so suddenly was expelled.

The last thing Alan saw was one of the holes in the ceiling, and the light coming through it.

He smiled at the irony.

All he created was darkness, and yet…

Peace came the next moment.