The Fool's Freedom

Florence was only a few meters away, piercing the boss with her eyes.

“What—?”

The man suddenly clutched at his chest.

“What… is this?!” he gasped.

Florence’s breathing seemed to be getting harder, but her trademark smile still played on her lips.

“This…”

He fell to the ground, gasping. Alan took a few steps towards him, green light alleviating the pain in his side. Florence’s skills came with a lot of limitations, but also a lot of power. This was it.

“Not… like this!” the boss gasped.

“End him, Flo.” Ashlyn walked closer, wiping traces of blood that had dripped down her chin. She seemed fine enough.

Reyvalur and Davis also approached. Only Jaerdra stood at her original spot, safe under the doorway.

Florence seemed to be struggling, and Alan gripped his dagger. The fight had been very long and exhausting. His every fiber warned him that he was pushing dangerously close to his limits. It had to end now. He couldn’t afford any more drops in Vitality.

Alan knelt on the ground and gripped the wrist of the hand holding the dagger with his other hand. He started pouring mana into a [Shadow Slash] mere centimeters from the head of the boss.

Blood started dripping from Florence’s nose.

“Jaerdra, heal her!” Ashlyn barked. The elf didn’t respond but a flash of green covered Florence.

“It isn’t working. She is pushing her skill too hard.”

Alan tuned them out. Florence would be alright. She had to be. He saw Ashlyn go next to her and support her from the corner of his eye, then once again focused on the slow movement of his blade.

[Shadow Slash] would be unable to get charged as soon as the slash ended. But it could be as slow as he liked, which would allow more and more mana to go into the attack. Combined with [True Edge] it had to be enough.

The rest also prepared to attack, each aiming either at the upper torso or the head of the monster.

The man seemed to sense something was up as he looked toward the kneeling Alan.

“I will… live again. Forever.”

Alan’s mana pool was almost gone now and with a yell, he released all the stored energy. His bones vibrated, but held on.

The dark blade that shot out seemed to swallow the light from the burning torches. It soundlessly landed on the man’s head and obliterated almost all of it, while the rest was finished by the others’ attacks.

Alan felt his vision swim, but he managed to stand up.

Congratulations. You have slain a Dungeon Boss of the Lower Buried Blood Fields 1/2

You have slain a Blood Corpse [Flesh Bishop] (35)

Only level 35? No…He had a classл

Level up!

You have reached level 14 in [Warlock]!

+ 3 Attribute Points

+ 1 Mind, Will, and Magic

…

Level up!

You have reached level 18 in [Warlock]!

+ 3 Attribute Points

+ 1 Mind, Will, and Magic

Wow. That was 5 levels from the fight. 15 free attribute points, and 5 points of boost to all of his mental attributes.

Alan grinned, then quickly wiped the smile from his face and turned toward the rest. Ashlyn was patting Florence on the back. Both girls seemed fine which was the important part.

The elves… didn’t look that well. From the original five that had entered, there were only two left now. He couldn’t imagine what it felt like, and he was glad for it.

Davis had his hand on Reyvalur’s shoulder. The elf looked stoic, suppressing whatever emotion he felt deep inside. Jaerdra had knelt and was softly whispering something, possibly a prayer. Alan decided to wait for her to finish.

There was a lot to do anyway, as Alan simply laid down on the now surprisingly clean floor. The boss had used all the gore for his final stage. And what a surprise it was… a monster turning itself into a human to kill the humans. It was poetic in a way.

Alan quickly chose the Lesser Mana Crystal option. He had plenty of items, and while the System made ones were great, the ritual was more important.

You have completed a quest: Slay the Blood Corpse!

May its suffering be eternal.

Reward: 5x Lesser Mana Crystals

That was quite a creepy message from the System. It almost seemed personal.

There were five stones as big as a quail egg floating in front of Alan. He grabbed one and was surprised to find that the energy inside of it was no lesser than the ones he had gotten from Ig-Thun. This was great news! He had been longing to further enchant his bones.

He had been almost certain that his free points should go into Magic as mana was way too important, but his percentage bonuses were becoming bigger and gave more value. An all-around boost versus sustainability. The stronger and faster his body was, the more stamina he expended and the more mana he needed to support that expenditure by converting it with [Warlock’s Body Mastery]. Then again, what use was his enhanced physique if he had no mana for his abilities?

Now he had a way to get both. All he needed was some heart’s blood from a beast and time. He still had that werewolf blood in his shadow inventory though…

And this was only one boss.

The System message indicated there was one more, which was a surprise. The rewards were tempting, but they had lost two people already.

The blood corpse had called for a Lord of the Flesh and Lady of the Blood, before becoming human. There was also the Doctor. Were they in another Dungeon of the same variety? Or were they not bosses? Was a broken world turned into a chain of Dungeons, each harder than the previous? What had they done to deserve such punishment from the System?

This one was called Lower Buried Blood Fields, so there was at least another one.

Alan let his mind wander through the endless possibilities as he rested. Their main quest was to unravel the mystery of this place, and they had done very little unraveling. No one had been interested in listening to the boss’s ramblings, which was probably a mistake.

But this was not a game. This was life and death as proven by the two elves who had not even a hair remaining to be remembered by.

There was a sudden bang as the coffin where the corpse had rested at first fell to the ground and shattered into pieces. There was light where it had stood and Alan quickly scrambled to his feet.

Loot?!

Minutes were remaining on his shadow speed and he took full advantage of it. His eyes shone as he gazed upon a bunch of… old stuff. He frowned and took out a bundle of old torn clothes. There was a small notebook and a ring there.

He took them all out, only to find a coin purse. There were bronze and silver pieces inside, and a single gold coin. The bronze ones looked very old and whatever had been stamped on them had long worn off. Only the gold and a few of the silver coins were unchanged. One side depicted a flower similar to the ones they had seen on the bridge, while the other had the face of a young man.

He took all the things to the rest of the group, who were watching him.

“Some old stuff and coins. Anyone want some for souvenirs…?”

Most shook their heads and Alan shrugged. He opened the notebook and was surprised to find he could read the characters. It seemed like a diary of sorts.

Year 1206, third of Sa.

I have long known what my fate will be. It finally came.

The Call of the Blood Fields.

I have had friends go there and never return. I hope they still live and I will meet them there. Hope is all I have. No one refuses the call, least of all a lowborn.

At least my family will be well taken care of, for now. I hope whoever finds this diary knows that I love you all very much, and the only reason I am not ending my life is you – my family.

The Blood Fields scare me. I have heard stories of the monsters that roam there, that humans are turned into by the cruel masters. I have heard tales of wolves with bloody mouths, of strange many-armed things, of mad laughter.

I am scared.

But it is my fate.

At least I will have a last year of life with my love…

Year 1206, twelfth of Sa.

She has left me. She couldn’t take the pain, she said. And I can? I, the one who has to serve the monsters that killed our ancestral Gods, that enslaved us, that feed on our toil and flesh? I, the sacrificed one have to live these last few moments of freedom alone?

Maybe it is better this way. Maybe she never loved me. Curse her.

My family left too. They took the gold and crystals. To think I did it all for them… I should just die.

Year 1206, forty-third of Sa.

I have arrived. They gave me a strange liquid that looked like blood but was nothing alike. I feel stronger, I feel sharper.

I realize now that I never needed a family or love.

All I needed was purpose and a Master.

And they gave me one of each.

There were strange scribbles and drawings and more dates. Some of the pages were soaked with dried blood, turning the ink into an unreadable mess. Alan turned the pages until he found a passage he could read. It was… disturbing to say the least.

The flesh, it speaks to me. It wants to change. It wants to turn.

A stab through the heart. They want me to die. It’s the last step. Dying. I want to die. Rebirth. For them. For the Lord and Lady, may their gaze turn in my direction as I give up the human, and become the corpse.

I die, tomorrow. The flesh whispers. Soon, I will become more.

Alan closed the diary and sighed. Lore was good, but loot was better.

“Anyone wants to keep this?”

There was silence. Even the elves who had spoken of history and knowledge showed little interest. Alan shrugged and the diary went inside his shadow inventory. He might as well start a collection.

“We need some time to mourn,” Jaerdra suddenly spoke and Reyvalur nodded next to her. “They were just children, without a class. They were responsible for themselves, but not leaving a body is the worst way to die in our culture.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I am sorry… for your loss.” Alan said. He struggled with the words. Truthfully, he felt very little on the subject. He did like Reyvalur a bit, but the two archers were… nobodies to him. And they were classless to boot, it was their own fault for coming to such a place.

“Ash, are you okay?”

She nodded and spat some blood out of her mouth, then turned to Jaerdra. “Any chance for a bit of healing before we rest?”

The elven woman seemed startled, then wordlessly waved her staff and green light covered all three of them. Alan felt the bruises and aches slowly disappear.

“Thank you, Jaerdra.”

The elf nodded and together with Reyvalur started gathering the pieces of weapons and cloth they could find.

“Great job, Flo.” Alan pulled the girl in a hug and quickly let go, sensing his blood rushing to his cheeks. Thankfully the [Monochrome Armor] was still up so no one could see. It was his second cast of the day.

Fuck. I am so bad at this.

“Yeah, you did well Florence. Your skills are very strong when they work. I am glad you are on our side.”

Florence smiled as she usually did. She seemed to take the compliments well. “Thank you, but you did most of the work.”

“No need to be like that around us, we’re not in the office.”

She frowned for a second, “Well… I did help quite a bit at the end. Yeah, go me!”

Alan laughed. It felt good to fight alongside friends and grow. 5 levels were no joke.

“Guys, if I try to kind of hold a ritual that enchants my body… would you mind keeping guard? It might take a while.”

“Yeah, I could use some rest after this.” Ashlyn said, “By the way, did I tell you how much you resemble a comic book character? Very noir.”

“Do I? Haven’t noticed.”

Alan released the skill and his shadow was back at his feet in no time. He felt a strange sense of vertigo as the skill left him. The shadows grew more ominous, and darkness suddenly didn’t seem like it would offer comfort.

“You gonna use the werewolf’s blood?”

“I figure if we can kill the boss as we are the Dungeon’s not that high-level. It will be fine, I control every step of the process.”

“If you are sure.”

Alan reassured the girls some more while waiting for his mana to recover. He took out some food and water for them in the meantime. He didn’t know how long it would take this time around.

Finally, he chose a place beneath one of the torches. He drew the circle with his magic chalk in no time at all, then removed his leather armor and shirt. The evil church hall and the playing shadows made him feel as if he was about to summon demons or something.

I hope Xil’s fine.

The five Lesser Mana Crystals would provide quite a lot of mana, plus his reserves were higher. Alan hoped for two whole arms worth of enchantment that would bring the bonus to at least 20 if not more. He didn’t know if the werewolf blood would have an additional effect, but he was eager to find out.

The process went much the same as last time, although he preemptively converted a lot of his mana to the now very familiar shadow attribute, which gave him a much-needed boost in control.

The pale werewolf blood coated his left shoulder first, forming the markings whispered by the [Ritual: Enchanted Bones]. The blood easily reached his bones and bore through them as if they were soft butter. It was almost a day and night difference from the first time he had performed the ritual.

There was still a lot of pain, but it did not feel as intense at all. Was it the rarity or strength in the blood that helped the smoothness of the ritual this time around?

Alan didn’t dwell on the details as he slowly guided the process through each of his bones, finishing the whole of the left arm and continuing to the right.

Time became meaningless…