Nate's senses swirled in the abyss, tethered to reality by the faintest of threads as the desolate lands around him succumbed to an oppressive darkness. Above, a blood-red moon bathed the night in a sinister hue, painting the world with a palette of dread. The air grew thick, charged with a foreboding that seeped into his bones.
Silhouetted against the celestial glow, a raven emerged, its sleek form cutting through the stillness. Its obsidian eyes locked onto Nate with a purpose that transcended the natural order. With each beat of its wings, the distance between them dwindled until the avian harbinger alighted upon the air before him.
Without warning, the raven plunged forward, dissolving into shadow and essence as it merged with Nate's form. A conflagration erupted within him, an inferno of spiritual fire that threatened to consume his very soul. Pain, sharp and relentless, crowned his head, eliciting a raw scream from his lips as he writhed against the unseen forces that tore at him. Then, with a suddenness that left him gasping, the vision shattered, and his eyes flew open to banish the darkness to the corners of his mind.
He found himself alone, drenched in cold sweat, in the spartan confines of the inn room secured by Professor Jodi. The musty scent of aged wood mingled with the lingering odor of blood and smoke that haunted his memory. His heart hammered wildly against his ribcage, a discordant rhythm that echoed the tremors racking his body. With effort, he swallowed back the bile that threatened to rise, pressing his palm against his forehead as if to hold together the fragments of his splintering composure.
The door creaked open, disrupting the silence that had settled over the room like a shroud. In strode Professor Jodi, her silhouette framed by the dim light of the hallway. Her gaze fell upon him with an intensity that seemed to pierce through his defenses, reading the tumult etched into his features.
"Easy, Nate," she murmured, crossing the threshold with measured steps. Her voice was a lighthouse in the maelstrom of his thoughts, guiding him back to safer waters. Jodi exhaled, a sound heavy with relief and concern as she approached the bed where he sat hunched over.
She slid into the seat beside him, her presence a balm to the churning chaos within. Gentle hands, firm yet tender, guided his tense frame to lean against her, offering solace in the warmth of human contact. It was an anchor in the tempest, a reminder that, despite the horrors he'd wrought in the name of necessity, he was not beyond the reach of compassion.
"Rest now," Jodi whispered, her words weaving through the air like a spell meant to soothe the weary. "You're safe here, with me."
Nate's chest heaved, drawing in shuddering breaths that trembled through his quaking frame. The room's stillness was punctuated only by the soft crackle of a lone candle's flame, casting long shadows against the walls that seemed to dance to the rhythm of his unrest.
"Your heart bears a heavy burden," Professor Jodi said, her voice laced with a comforting cadence that stood in stark contrast to the storm raging within him. "But you must not let the weight of what has passed fracture your spirit."
Nate's emerald eyes, so often alight with sparks, now dulled by the haunting specter of his recent actions, met hers. "It's not the lives taken," he confessed, the words spilling forth from a place of raw honesty, "but the... the thrill it sparked within me. That frightens me more than the deed itself." His fingers curled into fists, grasping at the rough fabric of the bed linens as if to anchor himself to reality.
A silence enveloped them then, thick and thoughtful as if the very air waited with bated breath for wisdom to fill its void.
"Ah, Nate," Jodi murmured after a moment, her gaze unwavering and deep with understanding. She reached out, placing a steadying hand upon his shoulder. "Something within you calls for blood, but I will try to help you control it."
The flickering light reflected off the determination etched into her features, and something within Nate shifted—a recognition of the mentorship she offered and the resolve that she would not abandon him to his darker inclinations.
Gulping down the lump of unease lodged in his throat, Nate shifted to another pressing matter. "And the captives?" he asked tentatively, the faces of the women he had glimpsed in the bandit camp surfacing in his mind like specters.
Professor Jodi's countenance fell, her sorrow manifesting in the downward turn of her lips and the shadow that crossed her eyes. "They are free from their bonds, yet the scars they carry are not solely of the flesh." Her words were delicate, yet they carried the weight of unspeakable truths. "Their journey to mend is uncertain and long."
A chill snaked down Nate's spine as he considered her words. The memory of the terror-stricken eyes and desperate cries clawed at him, sowing seeds of doubt regarding the mercy of his blade. Could the cessation of their physical torment truly be kindness when measured against the abyss of psychological ruin?
"Perhaps..." Nate's whisper was almost lost to the quietude, "perhaps I let those vermin die too easily."
"Sometimes," Jodi replied, her tone somber yet not devoid of hope, "salvation lies not in the escape from pain, but in the resilience to overcome it. Remember, Nate, both life and death hold their forms of mercy."
Nate's fingers trembled slightly as Professor Jodi placed the silver token into his palm. The cool metal carried the weight of achievement, embossed with the symbol of the Adventurers Guild—a mark of distinction and valor. His rise in rank was now official, a silver-ranked adventurer.
"Congratulations," Jodi said, her voice threading through the silence of the room like a gentle stream. "You've earned this."
A small smile tugged at Nate's lips, an involuntary reaction to the acknowledgment of his growth, but it was a smile that did not reach his stormy emerald eyes. The rancor of his own brutality lingered, a shadow that clung to the recesses of his thoughts.
"Thank you, but..." he started, the words catching like thorns in his throat.
"Listen to me, Nate." Professor Jodi's hand found his shoulder, her grip firm yet comforting. "Don't be upset by enjoying taking out the trash. You saved those captives from a fate worse than death."
Her reassurance was meant to ease his turmoil, but it echoed in the hollows of his conscience, a reminder of the duality of his actions—the necessity entwined with a darker pleasure.
With a nod that betrayed more gratitude than conviction, Nate watched as Jodi extracted herself from his side, her silhouette framed against the wooden door before she slipped away, leaving him alone with the weight of his introspection and the dim light of the lone candle flickering on the bedside table.
"Cola," he called softly to the artificial intelligence embedded within his consciousness, "what important messages have I received?"
"Processing, Host," Cola's ethereal voice responded, a hint of static underlying its tone. The air before him shimmered as translucent screens materialized, floating with an otherworldly grace.
The first prompt popped up, bold and unapologetic:
[Quest Complete- Bandit Subjugation]
A sense of accomplishment seeped into him, yet it was swiftly muddled by the next line, a jumbled mess of letters and symbols—
[Errorremx Redjewfj- bLoOoded ULTS].
"Damn," Nate muttered, his brow furrowing as he tried to decipher the garbled text. "What's this supposed to mean?"
"Unknown error. The reward appears corrupted," Cola informed him, the AI's usually unflappable demeanor tinged with confusion. "I will disable the skill until the issue is resolved."
"Fine," he conceded, watching as another notification floated into view:
[+3 Levels]
A surge of energy coursed through him, a tangible elevation of his strength, and despite the confusion, a spark of anticipation ignited within him. Moments later, another prompt appeared:
[Quest Complete- Reach level 20 Reward: Brief glimpse into your true nature].
"Cola, what does it mean, 'a brief glimpse into my true nature'?" Nate asked, trying to recall the vision that had shattered his sleep.
"Your recent vision upon awakening may hold significance. Further analysis may yield clarity," Cola advised, ever the pragmatic presence in his mind.
"Put a pin in it," Nate decided, unwilling to unravel the enigma shrouded within his subconscious. Not when his heart still wrestled with the horrors of the bandit camp and the lives torn asunder by his hands.
"Understood," Cola affirmed. "Aside from several more error messages, there are no additional important prompts."
"Show me the system status then," Nate instructed, leaning forward with an eagerness that betrayed his internal struggle.
[Status]
Name: Nathaniel Cromwell
Level: 20 / Exp (0/2000)
Class: Illusionist Duelist
Race: Half-Fae / Half ERROR ERROR EJNWoUUDPEnkndown (SEALED)
Age: 16
Strength: 46
Perception: 39
Dexterity: 39
Intelligence: 40
Endurance: 38
Charisma: 37
Free Points: 9
The stats unfurled before him, yet one glaring anomaly seized his attention—an error where his race should have been listed. It was a jumble of characters, indecipherable and out of place. "What's this about? Why is there an error here?"
"Probable interference from an external seal," Cola offered, its suggestion bordering on certainty. "It seems to be obscuring the full extent of your racial attributes."
"An external seal?" Nate mused aloud, the notion setting his pulse to quicken with intrigue.
"Indeed," Cola affirmed. "Your corporeal form appears to be adapting and attempting to use those abilities even with the seal leading to these errors."
"Adapting..." Nate flexed his hands, feeling the stark contrast between his former limitations and his current prowess.
"Shall I investigate the source of the seal further?" Cola queried, ready to delve into the heart of the mystery encasing Nate's lineage.
"Later," Nate decided, for now, he needed to rest his mind.