[Quest Log]
Tier 1 Quest: Establish a Territory
Status: Incomplete
Objective: Claim a foothold within an unmarked zone.
Reward: ???
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Tier 2. Clear the Surrounding Area
Status: Incomplete at 0%
Objective: Remove immediate threats and cleanse your claimed land.
Reward: Low-Class Inscription Manuscript — [Boundary Ward Sigil]
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Tier 4. Survive the Withered Nights
Status: Dormant*
Trigger: In 29 days
Objective: Endure the Withered Nights — a time when corrupted essence floods the land and sanity rots.
Reward: ???
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Looking at the various quests, what caught Rael's attention the most was the Withered Nights. He had only ever seen a Withered Spawn corpse before, slain by the Aether users of Grandveil. The only way he could describe them were creatures—if they could even be called that—corrupted with some kind of ever-spreading disease that thirsts and hungers for Aether, consuming and corrupting whatever has it, including Aether users. Although rare, there had been rumours that some Aether users could be corrupted.
'Just like some zombie virus except it came with some power boost or something', he thought, though it all perishes the moment the sun rises on the fourth day. Yes, they were called nights because the hell lasted for three nights straight.
Looking around him, Rael wasn't sure he'd survive that at all—well, except if he managed to break through to the Iron Fighter rank—but even that would only give him a fighting chance. The only silver lining he could think of was that the early stages of Aether users only attracted the weakest of Withered Spawns, so he might have a chance. Mostly as he looked at the second quest reward—a boundary inscription manuscript that would definitely come in handy—but all depended on if he could become an Aether user quick enough to clear the surroundings of any beasts. He was going to make this campsite his defined territory. For one, he preferred to train under pressure and alertness; whatever killed these Aether users would be his driving force to push himself harder—to be a master masochist.
"This will be my territory," he said to himself—though in actuality, to the system—since he was still figuring out how to communicate with it.
[Would host like to claim this unmarked zone as his territory of dominion?]
[Yes] [No]
"You're really on that dominion theme, huh?well Yes, I would."
With his response, he felt a cold breeze blow gently across his frame as he vaguely became aware of the entire radius of the campsite—like he could feel the air that moved in and out. It was strange, almost as if it were an extension of a limb being tickled by the wind. He pulled his mind away from that sensation, feeling weirded out by it.
[Host has now claimed a defined territory]
Dominion Territory Status:A tattered small scale base campsite with a radius of 10 yards in witgth and 11 yards in length that can be expanded into a larger Dominion
[Description]
(A survivor's hideout)
[Would host like to claim reward?]
Scanning the description the system gave of his now territory, he could guess that he could grow his so called dominion—but that was by the way. He chose to claim the reward.
"Y…" Just as he was about to say yes, he quickly sat down and prepared for any sort of injection this time around.
"Yes, I'd like to claim the reward."
[Host has been granted the Tier 1 Great Builder's Blueprint]
Squinting his eyes in preparation for a throbbing headache, he quickly noticed that it didn't come. The system simply displayed the Tier 1 Building Blueprint.
"Hmmm, so it's different, huh? So manuscripts hurt and a blueprint doesn't." He focused on it as it revealed a complex work of art that Rael knew for sure would take him days to understand, but as he could see, it involved complex wooden constructions.
"Probably turn this into a routine haha." He laughed as he got up and chose to tidy and put the camp in order, as it was his now, and also prepare his mind for the intense and brutish training routine he'd soon be going through.
...….
As the three moons rose across the night sky, raining their shining glow on the awfully quiet forest and casting shadows of the green canopies, on a closer look, shadowy figures moved through the treelines as if the shadows themselves were alive.
The shadowy figures stopped right in front of a cave covered in vines. Standing still, it was finally clear to see them—all cloaked in black robes with hoods and black chest armor. The air around them felt cold as the one in the lead, with more defined armor covering both his chest down to the arm guards, turned to face another who stood closer.
"Are you sure this is their hideout?" he asked, turning back to the cave. "You know that elven scum can be tricky."
"I'm certain, my lord. My tracking spell has never failed me—I coated it on one of her battle sisters."
"I grow tired of this chase, my lord. It's nothing but a fool's errand. We should be at the frontlines, not here," another complained from the left.
Hearing this, the leader turned to him sharply as his hand shot out with astonishing speed, gripping the complainer's neck.
"You dare question our will?" he said, raising him off his feet.
"No, Lord Drogon, I ju... ss... tt—" he couldn't continue as Drogon clenched his grip tighter.
"Our young patriarch's orders are our will. Regardless of his selfish reasons , the next time any of you question that again I'll gladly flay you all alive," Drogon said as a blackish aura burst forth from his figure, making the other shadowy figures step back and bow their heads in both fear and respect. After all, Lord Drogon was no longer a mere acolyte but now a Master Acolyte ever since he broke through.
Letting down the person he had been choking, the man fell to his knees, coughing and gagging. But Drogon was no longer paying attention to that as his instincts screamed at him. He turned to the tracker from earlier.
"Xaphxan, are you sure this is that wench's hideout?" he said with a glare as his reddish scarred face poked out of the hood.
"Huh… y… y-yes. It's where my spell directed me to, my lord," Xaphxan said, stammering.
"You idiot," Drogon said as he raised his leg and kicked Xaphxan across the chest, throwing him feets away and denting the chest armor. Not bothering with Xaphxan anymore, he turned to the cave, brought out two long curved daggers from his robes, and yelled at the rest of the hooded figures.
"Prepare for battle, you useless bunch." He gazed deep into the cave as he could feel a terrifying aura coming from within. A savage growl reverberated from its walls.
The complaining one from earlier turned to Drogon.
"Sh… should we retreat, my lord?"
"It's too late," Drogon said as they all heard towering footsteps echoing from within the cave. It was then that Drogon realized just how stupid he'd been relying on the useless acolytes assigned to him. He also noticed brownish fur around the vines — a detail he'd clearly ignored earlier.
"Damnit," he muttered, already knowing it was useless to run as the beast within had locked onto him — the highest Aether user of the bunch. So instead of running, he'd rather use the useless bunch to his advantage.
Red glowing eyes gleamed from within the dark cave as a towering hill of muscle, fur, and feathers appeared in front of the acolytes. The towering beast revealed itself to be an owlbear, with different claw scars across its body as it glared at these trespassers and ants that had awoken it from its hibernation.
Seeing the beast in front of them, Drogon couldn't help but roar in rage as he charged.
"Damn you, Iyvre".