No.
It could not just be that.
It was a creative and functional method to use both Classes. But Percival's potential couldn't simply be that limited. There had to be more.
He merely hadn't discovered it yet.
But this was the right path. It was good news.
With confidence, he outstretched his hand and used ⸢Soul Draught⸥ on the Vinebeast corpse.
"Finish the rest," he instructed his Skeleton Soldiers.
Rejuvenated, the bone minions seized control of the battle.
But this time, Percival didn't stand idle. He turned these low-level beasts into training props for his Skeletons.
He directed and corrected.
"Lower your stance! You, feint and go for the legs!"
The Skeletons were mindless creatures, so he accompanied these orders with demonstrative movements.
In return, they orchestrated it like a calisthenic.
Their disorganized mob became a coordinated, if still rudimentary, fighting force.
They finished the wolves, then surrounded the remaining Vinebeasts, using their numbers smartly to distract and flank.
Of course they weren't perfect, but Percival was learning to be patient.
He used ⸢Soul Draught⸥ each time their Health dropped low, siphoning the life force of their dead foes until his mana was drained and the last Vinebeast fell.
…⸢+5 EXP⸥ ⸢+5 EXP⸥ ⸢+5 EXP⸥
Percival glanced at the far end where the Beast Source was throbbing, a dark heart-flower.
He waited for more threats, but when none came, he lifted his sword to point at the pulsing heart. "Destroy it."
The Skeletons hurried to the Beast Source, gathering around it like an angry mob descending on a thief.
They swung their blades at it, chopping away pulpy segments until it died, bursting apart in a cloud of black pollen and dying light.
⸢Beast Source Destroyed⸥
⸢+200 EXP⸥
⸢Congratulations, you have leveled up!⸥
⸢Lvl 2 → Lvl 3⸥
⸢Congratulations, you have leveled up!⸥
⸢Lvl 3 → Lvl 4⸥
⸢+100 Mana⸥
⸢+200 Attack⸥
⸢+50 Defense⸥
⸢+10 Health⸥
⸢All Attributes increased by +4⸥
⸢Rewards: +3 Skill Points⸥
⸢+120 EXP⸥
⸢+ 2 Summon Space⸥
⸢+80 Mana Coins⸥
Percival felt the slight increase in magical energy within him. Very slight. But still palpable.
He'd leveled up twice at once, something that wasn't common and almost impossible. Especially for a D-Rank Gate World.
But Percival was challenging alone, which meant all the EXP that would usually be shared amongst a party of five were all claimed by him.
'Level 4 now,' he thought. 'Sixteen more until Level 20.'
He'd decided a while ago that Lvl 20 was his likely target for now.
At that Level, he would finally be able to unlock the ⸢Summon Soul Soldiers⸥ Skill.
Soul Soldiers would be a game changer.
Since they retained their magic and Classes from life, he could have undead Knights, Mages, Druids, and even Swordsmen fighting by his side.
They would protect him. But more importantly… he would never fear betrayal.
Percival looked down at the new notification.
⸢Chapel of Forgotten Bloom cleared successfully⸥
⸢Proceed to the next Encounter Zone⸥
He looted the mana coins, beast cores and hide, revamped his Skeletons with the available corpses and moved through the subsequent zones.
Now, Percival was not merely a Necromancer relying on clumsy minions nor a Swordsman carving a path.
He was a true hybrid. A commander.
Or at least, he was becoming one.
In the Creeping Corridor, where Vine Bears (Lvl 13) joined the Bramble Wolves and Vinebeasts, he used ⸢Bone Spikes⸥, impaling them from a distance before ordering his Skeletons to swarm the wounded.
With his mana stat at 110, he allowed himself more aggressive tactics.
He used ⸢Soulfire⸥, the ghostly blue flames clinging to the souls of the Vine Bears, consuming them from within.
He found dead bodies of guards, likely killed by the dungeon beasts, sprawled all over the floor.
Interacting with them, Percival uncovered more loot:
⸢Broad Lancer - D Grade⸥
⸢Silverstone Helm - D Grade⸥
⸢Basic Guard Armor - D Grade⸥
He didn't have much need for any of them, but he added them into his inventory. They could be salvaged or sold later.
Thanks to his high Luck stat which he retained from his former life alongside other attributes, loot was generous.
Percival gained nearly the maximum rewards any low-level Awakener would in a D-Rank Gate World.
Mana coins filled his currency, low-grade weapons and armor stacked his inventory, elixirs replenished his mana pool, and even more precious: iron ore and magical herbs for future crafting.
With every Encounter Zone he cleared, his EXP increased by fivefold.
Percival would reach Lvl. 20 in no time at all.
Or at least, he hoped so.
After scavenging the corpses of the guards, he cast ⸢Awake⸥ on them, summoning their bones to fight for him.
⸢Skeleton Soldier⸥
⸢Rank: C⸥
⸢Type: Skirmisher, Ranger⸥
He had seven Summon Spaces, and filled them up with the guards; some held swords, others arrows and spears.
He pressed onward, harvesting souls with ⸢Soul Draught⸥ to sustain his growing army.
The Skeletons he raised from the dead guards were better fighters compared to the Bandits' Skeletons.
Still, they were far from perfect.
Percival drilled a simple phalanx formation into them to hold back a charge of Stone Tusks (Lvl 16).
He taught them basic, synchronized double-strikes to break through the vine webs of Thorn Spiders (Lvl 14).
The deeper he went, his army became less of a disposable horde; and more of a legion.
Bones sharpened by the edge of his knowledge.
A ding rang in the air after the final Beast Source was destroyed.
⸢Congratulations, you have leveled up!⸥
⸢Lvl 6 → Lvl 7⸥
⸢+200 Mana⸥
⸢+300 Attack⸥
⸢+100 Defense⸥
⸢+50 Health⸥
⸢All Attributes increased by +9⸥
⸢Rewards: +3 Skill Points⸥
⸢+200 EXP⸥
⸢+ 3 Summon Space⸥
⸢+100 Mana Coins⸥
⸢The Petal Palace cleared successfully⸥
⸢Claim the key and proceed to the final Encounter Zone⸥
Percival scanned for a key, finding it just beneath the large, ominous door of stone.
With footfalls echoing the dark silence, he approached the key and picked it up, his Skeleton Soldiers watching and waiting behind him.
⸢Key of the Crypt⸥
Percival inspected the loot briefly, then inserted it into the keyhole that awaited him.
Click.
Then a clunk. Loud and emphatic, echoing in the dungeon as the ground began to tremble.
The great stone doors groaned as they swung inward, a sound like a giant's death rattle.
They moved with a theatrical, ponderous slowness, a show of the Gate World unveiling its final act.
Air spilled out. Thick and wet.
With it was the cloying sweetness of rotting nectar and the deep, earthy stench of a freshly turned grave.
Percival saw a cavernous space, a mausoleum turned into a grotesque garden.
The walls, the floor, the soaring ceiling; all of it were buried under a carpet of deep green vines and glistening black thorns.
This place was certainly the source of the vines that had corrupted this fallen castle; a tangled, breathing entity.
At the far end, on a raised dais, was a throne.
A mountain of roots and bone, a jagged, organic thing that seemed to have grown from the floor itself.
Upon it sat a man. A king.
He was a giant of desiccated flesh and stained bone. He was slouched, as if tired from the stress of a crown he hadn't yet worn.
His skin, where it was visible, was like melted leather, slime over a rigid skeleton, and it was cracked and seamed with the same green vines that choked the crypt.
They burrowed into his flesh, snaked up his arms, coiled around his neck, and even burst out of one of his eyes.
On his chest was his exposed heart—not a real heart, but a flower.
Beautiful and dead.
Perhaps he was the source of the vines, not merely this chamber.
He was the anchor from which it all sprouted, the patient, rotting heart of this blighted world.
The only thing free from the rot of this place was the golden crown held aloft his head.
It was a beautiful, curious thing. Nothing like traditional crowns.
It was made of formations of golden diamond-shaped spires, floating beside each other in a perfect circle, piercing the shadow of the chamber.
The figure which held it, appeared to be a skeleton in the rotten rags of priestly vestments.
The vines, for all their pervasive hunger, recoiled from the crown's radiance, leaving a small island of purity around the dead priest's hands.
It was a moment of coronation, captured and petrified for an eternity.
A king on the cusp of his glory, forever denied.
Percival stepped inside, his boots echoing in the silence.
His Skeleton Soldiers clattered in behind him and the doors slammed shut with a thunderous boom, locking them in.
He glanced down at the Gate World map.
⸢Crypt of the Crownless King⸥
Percival looked at the king once again, and the radiant crown hovering just inches above his head.
He scoffed.
"He must not like that name very much."
Dum!
Suddenly, the king's eyes snapped open. Red and malevolent.
A wave of chilling air swept through the crypt, blowing Percival's hair behind him and against his face.
A new message appeared:
⸢Quest: Kill the Crownless King⸥
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A/N: Hey there, readers! I hope you've enjoyed the story so far. Please, don't forget to support with power stones and reviews! It helps so much for motivation.