A few minutes later, Xaphxan could be seen standing over the fallen bodies of the three acolytes, with two already dead. The last one—the one-horned acolyte—choked on his breath, his face pale, with black blood oozing from his eyes, nose, and mouth.
"Y…ou tr…aitor," he strained, spilling black blood onto Xaphxan's boots as the latter looked down at the dying man.
Pulling out the curved machete, he said menacingly, his tone completely different from his usual docile one,
"I was never one of you bastards to begin with," before bringing the machete down on the acolyte's head, hacking at it several times as blood splattered across his face. He finally stopped after disfiguring the corpse.
Using his backhand to wipe the blood off his face, he released a breath he'd been holding before rummaging through his magic pouch and pulling out a scroll—a map, to be precise.
"Borderlands, hmm… If I head north, I'll be in human territory, probably one of the mid-tiers that guard the borders. Well, that'll be better—I'll finally be free from this damnable cult."
He knew that when the Brethren noticed the missing acolytes and no report came back about his death, they'd come for him. So he chose to head north to the first human territory he saw. At least Lord Drogon would not dare to attack a territory by himself, and even the entire cult wouldn't bother about a mere Tier 1 Iron Adept.
As for his master—the dead acolytes weren't wrong. He didn't care. At all.
All he had to do was make sure he avoided beasts and hopefully didn't cross paths with those elves.
He started pulling off the black dented chest armor and robe, bringing out new clothes from his pouch and changing into them. Turning to the woods, he paused, then went up to the corpses, dragging their bodies together and piling them up before taking a step back.
Pointing his hand at the piled corpses and robe,
he muttered something under his breath as a scorching ball of fire, the size of a baseball, shot out and ignited the corpses before he turned and disappeared into the woods.
….
Rael placed a log inside a wooden longhouse he'd built clumsily, though he'd made sure to follow the blueprint's directives step by step. He'd even managed to build the armory and the blacksmith's structures — though looking at them, they resembled wooden huts rather than longhouses as stated in the blueprint. Still, he was proud of his little achievement. It had been three days since he'd faced and slain the Hell Worgs, and it was all thanks to Aether that he'd managed to tirelessly build it to this point.
Through the construction, he'd managed to understand how Aether really worked. While carrying heavy things or working to the point of exhaustion, it kicked in like an adrenaline boost — Aether would automatically fill him with energy until his Aether reserves were spent.
He'd also discovered that, naturally, as an Aether user, he breathed in Aether just as he breathed in air — naturally absorbing it, which filled up his reserves. Though it was extremely slow, it became faster when one rested or slept.
While constructing the longhouses, he created a routine for himself:
First, chop wood at dawn. Second, eat. Third, train and try to master the Blood Rend Technique better — though that left him with a lot of scars. Fourth, chop more wood. Fifth, try and master the Eye of Critic spell, to no avail — then chop wood again for the night.
Though a boring routine, Rael knew he had a deadline — the Withered Nights.
Diving into his mind, he summoned the system interface.
---
[Host Interface]
Name: Rael Drakul
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Rank: (Tier I) Iron Fighter Rank
Aether Capacity: 9.2%
Strength: 11
Agility: 9
Endurance: 14
Will: 17
Intelligence: 9
Aether Reserves: 9%
Aether Manuscript: Warmaster Scripture I (Phase: Iron Path Initiated)
Aether Techniques: Blood Rend Technique
Aether Spells: Eye of the Critic
---
[Quest Log]
Tier 1 Quest: ???Unavailable ???
---
Tier 2 Quest: Clear the Surrounding Area
Status: Incomplete (4%)
Objective: Remove immediate threats and cleanse your claimed land.
Reward: Low-Class Inscription Manuscript — [Boundary Ward Sigil]
---
Tier 4 Quest: Survive the Withered Nights
Status: Dormant*
Trigger: In 21 days
Objective: Endure the Withered Nights — a time when corrupted essence floods the land and sanity rots.
Reward: ???
Seeing how many days were left until the Withered Nights, Rael rose to his feet and moved to the armory. He geared himself up with a leather armor vest since he was already wearing pants, then strapped the longsword to his waist. He also picked up the battle axe — a weapon he now considered a companion, after all, it had once saved his life. Because he'd been using it to cut down trees around the area, he'd kept it sharp — even sharper than the longsword. Besides, axes landed heavier blows during melee confrontations.
After strapping it to his back, he went to the incomplete alchemic longhouse, which looked larger than the rest. Entering through the clumsily made door, he picked up a pouch — though not a magic pouch — that held the only two healing potions he had left, both from the Rosil Guild.
As for why he was gearing up, he figured it was time to begin the clearing mission. He'd gotten used to being an Aether user and all that came with the first rank, though he still had to figure out how to progress. He suspected it had something to do with the Aether limit shown on the system. But aside from that, he was simply bored of his routine. He needed some excitement — and he also wished to confirm something.
Looking back on his clash with the Hellworgs, though it had been out of necessity and survival, he'd noticed that he gained a strange pleasure from seeing the beasts bleed… and he wasn't going to lie — he was craving more.
After making sure he'd taken all he needed, Rael moved to the boundary of his territory and looked at the woods in front of him.
"Let the hunt begin," he smiled to himself, then thought grimly,
I just hope my bad luck doesn't strike again and I come across a beast of the next rank.