Chapter 7

He was already walking away when he activated his rewards. He started with the bronze ticket, curious about what he would receive.

[Select one!]

[Scenic Wind]

{Trash Trait: The scenic wind favors you, making your clothes and hair flutter majestically, even in impossible weather conditions and indoors whenever it is opportune.}

[Winterman]

{Uncommon Trait: You were born in the harsh winter winds, you are more resistant to cold and ice-based abilities, and your ice-based abilities cost less energy to use.}

He didn’t even need to think before selecting Winterman. Not only was Scenic Wind next to useless other than as a party gimmick, but also the undead spellcasters relied on cold spells . Having an inherent defense against those spells would be extremely useful.

Comparatively, the offensive usage was merely an afterthought. He might be better at learning magic thanks to Talented, but it was his small mana reserves that made it impossible.

He activated his silver ticket.

[Select one!]

[Adept Conceptualization]

{Rare Skill: Conceptualization is your ability to understand what is beyond the mundane and inexplicable. With this level, your mind probably won’t be shattered by hearing the old ones whisper. Magic and esoteric subjects make more sense to you when you see them, you understand, learn, and develop magic more easily and have a better time understanding the mystical side of reality.}

[Beginners Guide to Runecraft]

{Rare Item: A beginner’s guide on basic Nordic/Scandinavian runecraft written personally by the Allfather Odin himself. Allowing those who study it to learn the art of Runecraft.}

Another easy choice. He immediately picked Conceptualization. He didn’t know any famous mage called Odin, but even if he did, a guide on runecraft was the kind of thing that would require months to make any reasonable progress.

Conceptualization was immediate, not only allowing him to adapt Water Breathing to mana easier, but it might even allow him to develop a better understanding of Bloom. Added to the two benefits, it would also allow him to develop a greater understanding of magic.

A boost to his magic-learning speed was always welcome.

As he walked, he raised his finger. A simple arcane glow appeared, but instead of releasing, he focused on the concept of cold.

Three attempts were all it took to figure out how to transform mana. It was an interesting process. A push, and the vague pressure of the raw mana became textured, as if it touched something outside the reality.

Just like that, he figured out how to transform his mana, something his childhood tutors had failed to teach him after months of training. Not that he could blame them. The connection was subtle and instinctive.

Then, he started trying to replicate the same effect with water, which wasn’t simple. Technically, Winterman meant he could have pushed Frost Magic far more effectively, but he ignored it. Frost magic was likely the worst tool against the undead.

Admittedly, under normal conditions, water magic wouldn’t be much better. It certainly couldn’t rival fire magic, or even better, channeling the Light, but he didn’t have conveniently designed sword techniques for them.

So, even as he moved back to the village, he lobbed small balls of conjured water at random rocks, less about trying to figure out a new spell, and more about understanding the nature of the transformation.

The assistance of Conceptualization was incredible, especially since it was not a Trait, but a Skill, which meant it came with knowledge and understanding. It didn’t just give him an instinctual understanding like Winterman did, but an actual ability to break down what was going on.

Not just the transformation, but also the efficiency, leakage, and coherence. With Conceptualization, he could perceive the nature of his spells like his training with a sword allowed him to understand his physical shortcomings.

His shaping was still crude and slow, full of gaps and inconsistencies that let mana escape, but knowing how to fix them instinctively rather than trying to find his way in the dark was incredible.

He alternated between casting arcane bolts and water orbs, ignoring the temptation to start practicing with Water Breathing. He couldn’t afford to injure himself. Especially not when he could feel the presence of the undead through Bloom once again.

This time, the undead were far more active, and far more crowded. Their presence was layered in two layers, small search groups at the first layer, with hidden reinforcements at the second layer, already spread like a web, ready to collapse.

He couldn’t help but gulp. A trap, one that would have probably caught him without Bloom’s enhanced detection.

It was also becoming clear that the undead were making too much of an effort to avoid elven lands, clearly not wanting to give elves a reason to change their minds.

It wasn’t a coordinated military response, but a tactical trap. One he could have shattered if he had a squad of fighters. He didn’t.

He shifted his direction to the southwest instead, following the curve of the elven border. The map showed two farming villages in that direction, Thornfield and Ashbrook.

Undead presence thinned as he moved away from the southern concentrations, and by the time he’d covered three miles, the only signatures Bloom detected were isolated wanderers, single ghouls or pairs that he could avoid entirely. Back to what passed for normal.

He could have killed those stragglers, but trying to thin their numbers was an exercise in futility, not worth alerting them.

This time, he didn’t come across another group near the border immediately. He had to move deeper, and while he did so, he continued his training. He couldn’t casually use Water Breathing, as the empowered slashes were surprisingly loud, but he juggled with mana conversion, this time not releasing, but constantly transforming a ball of mana between arcane and water.

He found the second group just before noon.

Forty-three people, once again a mix of young and old, led by a gray-bearded farmer with a pitchfork, but the way he held the pitchfork suggested some training. A veteran, most likely. Their group was too organized to be otherwise.

Everyone was armed, even the children, with a variety of tools from axes to hunting bows, but only a few of them seemed confident holding them.

Learning from his mistake, Arvis made sure to approach them from a relatively open area, though it helped that they were not dealing with an immediate pursuit.

He sheathed his sword once he got closer, but not before letting it glow just enough to reveal its enchanted nature. No one made any loud noises. “Greetings,” he said only after he approached.

“Greetings, Captain,” the old man greeted, confirming that he recognized the armor, which wasn’t too simple without his insignia. “May I ask you which garrison you are from?”

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“Stratholme, but we have a better spot closer,” he said. “I’ll lead you back if you are willing to follow.”

“How far, Captain?” he asked.

“Seven miles,” he said. “What’s your name?”

“It’s Osric, Captain.”

He nodded, drew his sword, and gestured them to follow him.

“Right,” Osric said, turning to his people. “Follow the captain. Move quickly, and stand silent. Anyone falls behind, we carry them.”

However, once Osric realized they were going toward North, he looked hesitant. However, he did walk to him before he spoke. “We’re getting too close to elven border, Captain. They don’t…”

“Have the kindest reaction, I know,” he said. “Don’t worry about it. I have a deal with them. An old family favor,” he said, tapping his finger, faking an absentminded reaction. He nodded. “You’re a veteran,” Arvis stated.

“Yes, my lord,” he immediately corrected his declaration.

“Second War?”

“Yes, my lord,” he added. “I was a sergeant, but once the war ended, I chose to retire.”

Arvis nodded. Assuming he stuck around, he could use the experience. This time, they were lucky enough to avoid getting detected until they were a mile away from the border. “We’ve been detected, start moving faster,” he said and moved to the right.

Osric looked surprised. He grabbed his pitchfork, ready to fight despite not being equipped correctly.

“Don’t worry, it’s only a few ghouls, nothing much,” he said with a forced nonchalance. He could feel six ghouls, which was not a difficult challenge. He could just hit and retreat a few times to deal with them easily.

He chose a different route. He moved toward the ghouls, letting them surround him while he took several deep breaths, then used the Water Wheel form. A circular swing, killing all of them at once.

He needed their loyalty, and for that, they needed to be impressed.

In the same vein, once they arrived at the elven side of the border, he raised his hand, the ball of mana hovering above his finger cycling between arcane and water magic while jumping between his fingers. To someone without magical education, it looked very impressive, but it was even easier than a cantrip.

When he arrived at the village, the first group looked relieved. “Welcome, Lord Godwyn,” they greeted, several of them kneeling enthusiastically. The newcomers looked weirded out by that, but Arvis didn’t bother explaining.

Instead, he walked to the spring and drank some water.

At some distance, the two groups merged with the tentative relief of confirming that they were not the only ones.

They must have also talked about the situation, because the moment he returned, the second group immediately knelt and declared their loyalty as well. “Are you sure?” he asked, looking reluctant.