In a few hours, Arric and I have circled the outer edges of the villages land. Bumping into a couple other patrol duos and informing them about Trap Jaws in the area. Which we ended up finding six other instances of them scattered around the edges of the forest using various small game as lures. Although we did spot one unfortunate Jackalope.
That one we had to spring. Arric said it was too large to let it stay this close.
Apparently most of the ones we've seen so far aren't big enough to eat a human whole, with the exception of that one. The size of the lure seems to matter a lot for judging it. And a warren defender is pretty big in comparison to that fawn.
With everything else I've been through lately, I thought I'd be prepared for seeing it, but was truly mistaken.
The [Ranger] simply tossed a handful of large stones nearby to the lure. And before I could even blink, the worms jaws unearthed and snapped shut with enough force that it blew my hair back. Eating up a whole bunch of dirt along with it.
It's head was covered in black chitin. Its mouth split into four sections that narrow to the tip where they meet. Rows of cloudy glass-like teeth and several beady black eyes.
I'm still shuddering just thinking about it. And they're supposed to get bigger than that? Absolutely horrible.
Arric says that the chitin on their heads is almost as durable as wyvern scales. But that the rest of their bodies are shockingly weak. Nothing but tender flesh. So if you can get them to peek out enough, you can kill them pretty easily.
Not that I'm willing to test that right now.
But throughout our patrol, I told him about everything. Not leaving anything out. Which I'll probably be lectured for later, but I don't have the patience for all the secrecy right now. And Arric honestly feels like the best person to understand all this.
His reactions were quite passive. Although he could just have a good poker face. He asked several questions. I explained my thoughts, as well as the theories given by Thorpe and others. But he seemed particularly interested in the class book and how the skills I got from it.
I'm relieved he's mellowed out since the initial reaction.
"Do you have any idea how lucky you have been?" He asks with a slightly exasperated expression while sitting on a large half sunken rock that we decided to take a break at. Still a few meters deep into the forest.
I sheepishly rub the back of my neck while doing some general stretches nearby. "I've been starting to notice that. "
He sighs and shakes his head. "It was incredibly reckless to reveal all of this to me, but I suppose you could have done worse." The [Ranger] admits. "You should really put that charm back on before Barton and Wuinn get back. They're more loyal to Steppan than Ethel."
I really don't like the implications of that. Frowning at the rugged man. "You think he would react badly? I thought Ethel would have already told him. I even thought she already told you since she had you look at the ruins I fell into."
Arric's expression gets a bit complicated. "She told me you had found it, but I wasn't told the rest. And it's Grandian law that we report any structures like that we stumble across. That one is certainly one of the oldest I've seen so far." He admits. "As for Steppan, he is incredibly devout. So take it from someone whose people the church have been trying to label as heretical for generations. You don't want him to know."
The [Ranger] gives me a pointed look along with that last statement. Which causes me to frown pretty sharply.
Steppan has certainly been cagey, but he's also protected me several times now. I've fought alongside side him. It feels wrong to think he'd try to hurt me or something. But I'm not about to test my luck. And Arric clearly knows him better than I do.
I take a deep breath and chew on some of the jerky I brought with me. "I knew there was some contention between Hascus and the Grand, but I didn't know the church hated your people that much."
He scoffs before taking a hefty swig from his waterskin. "The church hates anything they can't order around." He remarks with malice, grimacing fiercely. "They don't like anything out of their control. They own the Grandian Royalty, but can't get their talons into Hascus because of the Saintess. It agitates them."
I purse my lips at that. The messy politics of the Grand are pretty notorious, at least in terms of the government itself. But despite having a lot of say in how the country runs, the Holy Order keeps things very close to the chest. They have always been more reserved. Protective. So much so that the only books about them for public reading have to be curated by them.
I shake my head while tearing off another strip of jerky. "What makes you a heretic to them then?"
The [Ranger] looks over at me while he reattaches his waterskin to his belt. "For the same reasons they would you. Some of our classes are abnormal to them. [Druids] and [Shamans]. And how we get some of our skills breaks general logic with God's system. And anything that contradicts their truth is heresy to them." He answers simply. "As I said before. [Primeval Awareness] is not a skill you get. It is given to you. Which to the church, is not normal. Neither is speaking to monsters."
My nose wrinkles a bit at that. "I see. So they kind of equate it to something like [Bandits] that steal skills from the people they kill."
He nods curtly. "To them. Only God can bestow a class or skills to someone. Anything outside of that is seen as cursed. But the Hascan culture has generational skills. Ones that pass down through our lineage. Which normally I am barred from speaking of, but this is a unique situation. And one that sounds eerily familiar."
A slight gasp escapes me as he says that. "It's familiar?! Like how?" I blurt out before I can manage my own desperation. But this was everything I was hoping for.
The [Ranger] raises a hand in a calming gesture. "It's just a guess. So do not get your hopes up." He warns, lowering his hand back down into his lap. "One of the generational skills that all Hascan's have is the [Beast] passive. The one that the church hates the most, as it is much like the [Noble] or [Royal] passive skills. But the exception is that everyone born on the Isles has it. Even our [Farmers]."
I nod along slowly. "I've heard about the [Royal] one before. They used it to make a lot of [Royal Guards] during the demon war. It was a prerequsite for getting the class evolution. Does it also give special skills or something?"
"It can. Just depends on who made it." He says simply.
But that answer confuses me a lot. "Who made it? You mean God?"
He gets a bit tight lipped at that for a moment. As if considering what to say. "Maybe." He leans forward, resting his elbows onto his knees. "Listen. Everything I am saying is considered heresy. So don't take it as gospel or repeat it to anyone else." His eyes narrow at me as his expression turns serious. "Understand?"
A cold chill rolls down my spine, but I steady myself before I can back away. Looking towards him with resolve. "Aye. Crystal clear."
The [Ranger] sighs and leans back on the rock. "The story goes that when the Beast Saint lead her flock to settle the Isles, she wanted to set them apart from the Grand." The [Ranger] says calmly. "It is said that she copied aspects of herself. A fraction of her power. And formed it into a passive skill. Spreading it amongst her followers so that they and their offspring would always be known as her people." He explains, gesturing to himself. "That is why Hascans appear as we do. Large builds. Beast-like traits. Because we, in some semblance, are made in her image. "
My shoulders relax as my fascination takes over. Putting all my focus in the tale. And it certainly is one. Sounding more like a legend than history. But a silly question comes to mind in the middle of my intrigue. "So. She looks like an animal?"
Arric smirks and chuckles. "More than most. But still clearly human. But many tend not to look in her direction out of fear or respect. Usually both."
I bite my lip slightly, not wanting to divert the conversation too much, but I really have to know. "But you've met her? Cause you got [Primeval Awareness] from her right?" I ask nervously. "What is she like?"
The [Ranger] slowly nods, folding his arms over his chest and letting out a hefty sigh. "Conflicting." He admits, shaking his head a little. "Uruth'vin Barda, the most powerful human known to the world, is just as intimidating as most rumors say. An absolute titan of a woman. Towers over everyone around her. A mountain of muscle that can and will cleave stone and steel in twain." Arrics jaw tightens as he turns somewhat pale. "A true demi-god..."
But he sucks in a breath while raising a hand to scratch at his scraggly beard. Several tufts of hair shedding out onto his lap. "And yet..." He sighs yet again. "And yet she is the most frustrating fucking person I've ever met."
My brows instantly furrow in confusion. "Huh?"
"Everytime I saw this woman she was either lounging in the shade like a lion, eating berries and meats from the hands of her attendants. Or napping days on end with snores loud enough to mistake it for an earthquake." He mutters in clear disappointment, his eyes glazing over slightly.
My mouth forms a thin line at the somewhat awkward air. "Um…"
Arric groans and waves a hand dismissively. "We are getting off track." He admits, obviously wanting to steer this conversation back where it needs to be. Leaving me very confused. And more than a little concerned.
The [Ranger] clears his throat before he continues, "The [Beast] passive, like [Noble] or [Royal], is a lot more complicated than how it appears on its surface. They are not normal passive skills." He gestures to himself again. "To those unitiated, it just marks me as Hascan and gives me the Saintesses beast-like appearance." His hand lowers from his chest and gestures to me instead. "But what it also does. Is it lets me learn [Beast] type skills. By copying them from animals."
My eyes widen and my next breath catches in my throat. "Like—like me?" A heavy wave of relief beginning to crash down against me as if it had been held back by a dam that just collapsed.
Finally. Someone else to relate to that isn't natural born murderers.
Arric holds up a hand in a calming gesture. "Sort of. I don't have to kill them to gain the skills. And I can't take them from monster types like you can. So you have me beat there." He says with a wry grin. "And the skills I can take are only related to my senses. Sight, hearing, taste, and smell. But those above level 10 can start copying the physical attributes of animals as well just like the Saintess can."
After a few seconds, I manage to quell the wave of emotion to a more manageable level. Lowering myself down into the grass because my legs are beginning to feel like wobbly. "It's enough." I say quietly with a sigh of relief. "Enough to make me feel less alone."
He offers a simple nod. "I am glad you can take solace in that. But I am not finished. That was just set up. Now we get into what I actually found the most familiar."
I shift my attention back up to him, raising a brow. "What do you mean?"
The [Rangers] expression takes a contemplative look. "You said the skill that lets you take skills from monsters is called [Slayers Aspect], yes?"
I nod slowly. "Yes. Why?"
"The term Aspect keeps bothering me." He admits. "The description of the [Beast] passive starts with 'An Aspect of the Beast Saint. Granting a fraction of her power, presense, and potential. You, like her, are attuned to nature and the fauna of the world…'"
My face scrunches a bit in confusion. Trying my best to follow his line of thinking, but I'm just not catching it. "Okay? So they both have the word Aspect in them?"
Arric can obviously see that I'm not getting it because he frowns a little. "Perhaps this will help instead." He says plainly. "It is said that when the Saintess created the [Beast] passive, she spread it amongst her flock by copying it into blank scrolls. And she did the same when she bestowed me with the [Primeval Awareness] skill."
He stares at me seriously for a brief moment, as if waiting for me to respond. But I'm still painfully unsure of what he is getting at and it's starting to frustrate me.
"It was rather uncomfortable to learn, as you might know." He says quietly. "I had to give it a drop of my own blood. Felt like my mind was being branded. And the scroll fell to ash afterwards."
And I finally catch up.
Shooting to my feet as the memory rushes back in. "That..." I try to speak but the words fall apart in my mouth. Resting one of my hands on my head while swearing I can still feel the scratching. Like a quill on parchment.
The [Ranger] nods. "I did say that it sounded familiar. Eerily so."
I grab the other side of my head as well, squeezing down hard enough to feel like it might leave indents. "If they're the same thing. Then that would mean Thorpe was wrong. We all were…" I wonder aloud, beginning to pace back and forth.
"There was no hidden class." I mutter beneath my breath. "I'm still just a [Farmer]."
My face contorts in confusion again, still pressing down on my skull. "Then why is my [Farmer] skills still not working? My class quests and everything?" I ask to the air, not expecting an answer. But receiving one anyway by the only person present.
"It is possible that it's still the skill blocking it off. Mine overwrites my entire biology and gives me access to skills normal [Rangers] would usually have. And with how large of a tome you described it was, I am wondering just how much of themself the person who made it put into it." The [Ranger] muses. "Perhaps there is too much that it is overwriting your entire natural class."
My teeth grit as a low groan escapes my lips. "Okaaaaay. At least that answer hasn't changed much." I mutter, trying to piece my shattered thoughts together. "But that begs the question. If it's truly like your [Beast] passive, then just whose aspect am I now host to?"
The [Ranger] offers a genuine shrug. "Try checking the skill again. Mine has changed several times as I've gotten older and learned more about its capabilities."
I grimace. Yet again stuck with the fear of my own unknown. But I swallow the apprehension deep down. "May the blinded see..."
______________________________________
[[LEVEL-01]]
//Name: Liore Perro
//Age: 13
//Class: [Farmer]
//Status: Healthy
[[STATS]]
//Strength: 2
//Dexterity: 3
//Intelligence: 3
//Perception: 3
//Stamina: 3
//Resilience: 3
//Magic: 2
[[PASSIVE]]
[Primeval Awareness] -> [Ears]
[Slayers Aspect]
[Favored]
[Battle Theory] -> [Sword Theory]
[Threat Detection]
[Mana Sense] = [Weak]
[Mana Storage] = [Minor]
[[SKILLS]]
[??????-??????]
[Leap Stride] + [Spring Kick]
[[CLASS QUESTS]]
[Plant A Seed]
______________________________________
My window appears unchanged since the last I looked at it. Searching it up and down for the slightest difference in the bold white letters leaves no indication. So my index finger hovers over the [Slayers Aspect] skill. Something that I could just will open, but my own will feels just as apprehensive.
"Come on..." I hiss at myself, pushing my finger the last inch forward. A smaller section appearing to the side of my window with the description. And before I even begin to read, I can already tell that it's longer.
____________________________________________
[Slayers Aspect]: The Aspect of the Slayer Saint. His power, presence, and potential. His all and everything. You, heir to his wrath. Seed to sow, thorns to grow, blood before water.
May Thy Divine Be Damned... May My Enemies Divide before me...
Keep what you kill. When slaying a creature of any type, you may harvest from it a random skill in its possession. You may only have as many harvested skills equal to your Intelligence stat. These skills can be discarded and replaced by harvesting more from slain creatures.
____________________________________________
That...
That doesn't make me feel better.
My hands are trembling as my eyes skim it over and over again. Each time deepening the pit forming in my stomach. The words written as if the writer hungered for death. Even adding a prayer cursing god?
How can it sound even more evil than it already did before?
"Wh—what have I become?" I stutter out through a shower of tears that broke after reading it the first time. Unable to control the confused panic taking control of my mind. The twitches returning to my face and the tightness in my chest suffocating me.
Arric slides off the rock and slowly approaches, looking genuinely concerned. "Miss Liore? What did it say?"
"I can't..." I sob, taking several steps back. "I can't do this."
I stumble and waver clumsily while turning, nearly falling over before I manage to right myself and speed through the trees back towards the village. Haphazardly using [Leap Stride] to quicken my pace. Heel to toe. Not caring for any bramble or foliage in the way. My armor catching on branches and brush before they snap from my momentum.
My body passes the treeline into the fields in a matter of seconds. My vision obscured by the dark of night and the tears swimming in my eyes. Only able to make out the vague shapes of the village ahead as I speed up faster and faster with each stride.
I just want to go home. I want my bed. I want my room.
I want my mother.
I thought I was finally feeling normal. That I wasn't cursed. That I wasn't a monster like the [Bandits].
But now I just sound even more like them...
"Liore?!"
A shape appears in my vision too late to stop. My next leap slams me into the person's side when I try to dodge at the last second. Sending me rolling to the ground at speed and barrelling over whoever was in my way.
[Leap Strides] cushioning effect protects me. Only hard enough to bruise and knock the wind out of me.
Still trembling and even more disoriented, I look up from the grass to see Ser Ethel crumpled off to the side in an uncomfortable position. Her armor mirroring slightly in the moonlight. The sight makes me sick to my stomach. Her unmoving shape.
My lip quivers. "E—Ethel? Please get up. Please…"
Her form finally shifts to my relief. She rolls over onto her back and gasps loudly. "By god!" She croaks, slowly trying to stand herself back up. Her wide eyes spotting me a distance away from her. "Liore? What the hell was—" But her question is cut off as she lurches over and falls back down to her knees. The womans face turning pale before she wretches. A small flood of red spewing from her mouth and into the grass.
I watch in horror as she stares down at it and wipes the rest from her lips with her gauntlet. Taking several seconds to register what just came out of her. "Oh dear. Seems that hurt me quite badly." Her attention turns back to me, her mouth ringed with blood. "Are you alright?"
The question shocks me. Breaking me down even further. How could she possibly ask me that in her condition? "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." The apology slurring more with each iteration.
"It's okay, dear. My mistake. I shouldn't have been in your way." She responds earnestly. But the trickle of blood from her lips just hurts me more.
Two sets of footsteps. Sprinting quickly over the field from opposite sides. Thorpe from the village and Arric from the treeline. Both reaching us at about the same time.
The old man must have been joining up with Ethel. Thorpe has his spear clutched tightly in his hand, his usual patrol armor still in a state of mid-dress. His eyes scanning over both of us "What the hell happened!? Is something chasing you?!" He barks towards me.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry..." Is about all that is rolling around in my vocabulary in between wheezes and sobs. Curling myself up in the grass and tucking in like a turtle. Just wanting everything to stay away.
I can hear Arric's voice after he skids to a stop near Ethel. "Captain, are you alright?"
"I'm fine. Just a bit of internal bleeding, mayhaps. Not a big deal." She croaks before coughing. Spitting out a bit more bloody bile. "What is wrong with her? She was running as if her life depended on it."
Arric is quiet for a few seconds as Thorpe makes his way over to me. "We were taking a break from patrol. Just talking. Then she checked her window and suddenly became inconsolable. Then she ran." The [Ranger] answers. Not exactly lying, but leaving quite a bit out.
Thorpe's shadow blocks out the moon before he kneels down next to me. "Liore? What's up, kiddo?"
I can't stop myself from shaking. Unable to think straight. My arms and legs no longer listening to me anymore.
One of his hands touches my back, and I shrivel away from it. "Don't. Get away from me." I mumble, hiding my face in my hands. "I almost killed her. I'm a monster..."
An uncomfortable quiet sets in after I say that. And I can feel all of their gazes focused on me. Scrutinizing. They have to be.
A tired sigh above me makes me flinch. Thorpe's arms scoop me up from the ground despite a few weak thrashes from me in response. "No, you aren't. You big dumby." The old man remarks, keeping a tight hold on me.
I don't have enough energy nor cognisance to get away or argue. So I simply continue to squeeze myself while hoping to disappear.
Old Guard begins to move. "I think the others can handle the patrol tonight. Arric, if you would, pick up your boss and we'll round back to my cabin." He grunts out to the other two. "Ethel here needs to be tended to, and I've got just the thing for it."
A visceral groan escapes from the [Knight]. "Oh god. Not again." But I can hear her standing up as her armor clinks, likely being assisted by Arric.
Thorpe'sThorpes movements make me sway in his arms. His hold is protective. Caring.
I should feel safe. But I don't.
I can't.
That feeling that has been nagging me for forever...
That dread hiding in the back of my mind. The sinking feeling whenever my window changes or a new skill appears. No matter how helpful or exciting it might be. No matter how many silver linings we sew in to make it feel better.
There is always that rage seething in the background.
Those bright violet flames that I still have no answer to. The one thing I still haven't told anyone about.
But at least I may have a name for it now.
His wrath...