Chapter 249: Four Epic Skills

Luke had finally reached level 60 in his profession as Guardian Botanist of Mother Freya. For the first time, the system offered him a choice of skills exclusive to that path. He drew in a slow breath, steadying himself, and began reading carefully. He was sitting in the inn’s dining hall. He could have waited until he returned to his hideout in the Wild Zone, but the anticipation was too much.

“When you’re done eating, wash your plate. You’re already past the usual time, I’m doing you a favor,” Layla called out.

“Of course, don’t worry,” Luke replied, watching her leave for the counter before turning back to the glowing system interface.

A list unfolded before his eyes. Four options. But what caught his attention wasn’t the number, it was the rarity. Every single one was Epic. Even without fully understanding the power scale of abilities, he knew what that meant. Epic skills weren’t just strong, they were game-changing.

The first one:

[Dense Foliage Barrier (Epic)]: The Guardian Botanist raises a living wall of interwoven leaves, roots, and vines, creating a natural bulwark against incoming attacks. Beyond defense, it can serve as a tactical obstacle, hindering enemy advances and controlling the flow of battle.

Not some passive perk about brewing potions or chatting with plants, this was combat-oriented. A Guardian’s weapon.

A living wall, huh?

That had potential. He could create cover in the middle of an open battlefield, duck behind it, and fire arrows without being completely exposed. Depending on its resilience, maybe it could even withstand magical strikes. The tactical advantages stacked up in his head.

The second option:

[Soil of the Fallen (Epic)]: Upon killing an enemy, the Guardian Botanist may mark it as a sacrifice to nature. The corpse becomes fertile ground, a living soil, that can be used to cast [Corrupted Plant Growth] and related skills. This allows the Guardian to fight in barren or urban environments, using sacrificed bodies as anchors to call forth flora.

Turning corpses into soil?

That was… clever. His corrupted roots were powerful, but situational. They only worked in environments with natural ground. Inside the fortress, against the Midnight Wardens, his roots had been almost useless.

But with this? If he kept sacrificing Warden corpses, he could build a battlefield inside their own fortress. Each body a new patch of living soil. Each death expanding his reach. He paused, thinking. With Soil Analysis combined with these makeshift patches, could he even track that invisible creature by sensing the vibrations through the ground? The possibilities were brutal. Corrupted roots to snare and bind. He wouldn’t need overwhelming power, just timing. A moment’s restraint on the Warden Captain could be enough to tip the fight.

What looked like a simple skill, just making dirt, might actually be the deadliest weapon on the list. Then came the third:

[Mutant Plant Tentacles (Epic)]: The Guardian Botanist summons up to three mutated plant tendrils within a ten-meter radius, infused with the power of [Corrupted Plant Growth]. Each tendril is a living weapon, its fibers dense and reinforced, strong enough to crush stone, tear trees from their roots, and block incoming attacks with sheer brute force. Resilient and difficult to destroy, they serve as direct extensions of the Guardian in battle.

Mutant tentacles?

The first thought that crossed his mind was about his corrupted roots. That power had always been tied to [Corrupted Plant Growth], but this was something different, an evolution. Normally, he could summon roots within a five-meter radius, useful for catching enemies off guard. Against beasts, it worked well enough, but there were still limits. The roots were too fragile to hold them for long.

Against humans, it was even less effective. Once they saw the roots emerging, all it took was cutting or destroying them, since they weren’t that strong. On top of that, there was the five-meter range restriction. But now he had a power that could make tentacles sprout within a ten-meter radius around him, and that would certainly expand his combat potential.

But this… this was something else. Dedicated, brutal. Tentacles. And what if he applied [Thorn Mutation] to them? The image was almost intoxicating. Tentacles already strong enough to crush stone and rip trees from the earth, now armed with serrated spikes? That would be a true weapon, a nightmare to anyone who faced him.

Each of the skills so far had been unique, versatile, and powerful. His eyes shifted to the final option on the list:

[Acid Blood Arrow (Epic)]: The Guardian Botanist sacrifices 100 HP to fuse the essence of [Dark Blood] with the [Corrupted Blood of Mother Freya]. From this unholy fusion, a [Rare]-tier arrow is formed, its shaft conjured from high-grade enchanted wood grown out of his own corrupted plant powers. Upon impact, the arrow releases a cloud of acidic mist that corrodes everything within its range. The cloud remains for some time, dealing continuous damage to all enemies who stay inside. Those who dare to challenge nature soon learn the price of defying its guardian.

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His eyes widened. Finally, an outright offensive skill. The others had combat applications, sure, but this one… this was different. This was direct. Lethal. Ideas flooded his head faster than he could catch them. He stopped focusing on the description and began imagining what it truly meant.

An arrow, born from his bow, just like every attack he’d honed until now. But this wasn’t for picking off a single target. It was devastation. A storm of acid mist, spreading through groups of enemies. Every kill with that arrow would grant him profession experience. And not just scraps, because it wouldn’t be indirect damage, but a clean execution delivered through a profession skill. That meant even greater gains.