Important Announcement:
I've renamed Akatsuki to Kageko for various reasons, mainly because it better suits her. This will be the only time it happens.
I appreciate your understanding. Thank you.
•••••
Beneath the shroud of night, the forest stood silent, its towering trees casting elongated shadows. A gentle wind stirred the leaves, creating a soft murmur of nature's nocturnal chorus, accompanied by the rhythmic symphony of insects.
Within their makeshift base, nestled amidst the trees, a campfire crackled defiantly against the dark. The enticing aroma of boar meat filled the air as it sizzled over the open flame, tantalizing the senses.
Amidst the gathering in front of the campfire, John shared the company of Mark, Kageko, Sharon, and the two goblin recruits, Abobo and Bano. The flickering flames painted their faces with a warm glow, revealing the weariness etched upon them after a day of challenges.
In this tranquil setting, John's mind buzzed with the recent acquisition of 65 Stat points. Methodical and unwavering, he meticulously distributed these points across his five key stats, ensuring a balanced augmentation that would empower him in the unpredictable journey that lay ahead.
•••••
Player#42069
NAME: John Smith
PLAYERS ELIMINATED: 1
ASCENSION ORBS: 0
HP: 260
MP: 260
•••
[STATS]
VITALITY: 26
STRENGTH: 26
INTELLIGENCE: 26
AGILITY: 26
DEXTERITY: 26
AVAILABLE STAT POINTS: 0
•••
[SKILLS]
PLAYER EXCLUSIVE SKILL: Gacha Fusion.
COMMON: Healing Touch.
UNCOMMON: Thunderstrike, Inferno Burst, Nebula Mirage.
RARE:
SUPER RARE:
LEGENDARY:
MYTHICAL:
SUPREME:
•••••
John was deeply engrossed in scrutinizing his status board when a sudden interruption seized his attention. Glancing around, he found himself surrounded by a group gathered in a circle around the crackling campfire. Laughter echoed through the night, intertwining with lively conversations that filled the air.
Unable to shake off the curiosity gnawing at him, John couldn't help but marvel at the peculiar nature of his companions. These beings, supposedly artificial creations of the system, exhibited an uncanny sense of realism and vitality. Perplexed, he voiced his thoughts aloud, "Why do they feel so authentic and alive?"
In response, the resonant voice of the system reverberated, providing an explanation that sent shivers down John's spine, "Because that's precisely what you desire." The revelation lingered in the flickering glow of the campfire, casting shadows on the mysterious connection between John's yearning and the sentient nature of his artificial companions.
John furrowed his brows. "Supposed to be rhetorical. Now, you've heightened my awareness."
The system voice remained silent.
John nonchalantly shrugged, accustomed to the system's peculiar behavior.
"I've secured a handful of fundamental character classes," John declared.
"Yes, but the quest for more awaits," the resolute system voice replied.
"Fortune smiles on those who persist," John optimistically remarked.
John seized a boar skewered on a stick, roasted over the crackling campfire.
Immersing himself in the group's banter, John seamlessly joined the conversation.
In a matter of moments, he found himself wholeheartedly engrossed in hearty laughter, savoring every joke shared among them.
Several days had elapsed, witnessing a remarkable transformation. The once modest base had burgeoned into a substantial settlement, adorned with multiple medium-sized infrastructures. Among these structures, the town hall stood prominently, its architecture enhanced by the resilient combination of stones and woods.
Adjacent to the town hall, the blacksmith's building hummed with activity, a forge ablaze with the creation of potent tools. A formidable defense encircled the burgeoning settlement — a robust wall composed of menacing spikes and sturdy stones, a testament to the commitment to safeguarding their haven.
Sharon, a skilled blacksmith, diligently elevated the quality of the equipment, ensuring the town's defenders were armed with the finest. Abobo, the stalwart miner, gratefully received a stone pickaxe, a tool destined for the depths of the earth in pursuit of valuable resources.
Bano, the lumberjack with a purpose, exchanged her rudimentary tool for a stone axe, a formidable implement designed not only for gathering wood but for toppling trees with unwavering efficiency.
Meanwhile, Mark, the diligent builder, shouldered a hammer, ready to lend his strength to the ongoing expansion efforts.
Emerging from his robust hut constructed from a blend of wood and stone, John cast a determined gaze upon the horizon. "Are you ready, Kageko?" he inquired, his voice carrying the weight of responsibility.
"Yes, my lord," Kageko affirmed resolutely. Adorning her hip were a pair of finely crafted stone daggers, their handles crafted from polished wood, a symbol of her unwavering dedication to the community's defense.
John strode purposefully toward the imposing gate of the base, marveling at the structures before him. "I can't fathom that one person constructed all of this," he remarked with astonishment. "Mark is conjuring this place into existence with almost magical speed."
Kageko, displaying unwavering loyalty, chimed in, "Mark is an industrious subordinate, my lord."
"That's likely the primary factor," John concurred.
As they embarked on their journey, Sharon, brimming with joy, shouted, "Take care on your expedition, my lord and Kageko!" Her hands waved energetically in farewell.
Responding with a gesture of gratitude, John and Kageko reciprocated the farewell as they approached the formidable wooden gate of the base.
Mark, positioned at the exit, stood with a sense of pride. He respectfully bowed his head in acknowledgment of John's presence.
"Take care, my lord. Rest assured, you can rely on me to safeguard the base in your absence," Mark asserted with unwavering determination.
"I am counting on you," replied John, his gaze piercing with expectation. With a nod of acknowledgment, he and Kageko strode purposefully beyond the protective fortress walls, stepping into the unknown.
As they ventured forth, John luxuriously stretched his arms, a hint of anticipation in his eyes as he surveyed the dense forest that lay ahead, concealing mysteries yet to be unraveled.
"So," John began, fixing his gaze on Kageko, "what have you discovered?"
In response, Kageko nodded, her expression a testament to the gravity of her findings. "I scoured the surroundings, meticulously searching for a base matching the specific description you provided," she explained. "And indeed, I uncovered one—a stronghold of Orcs lies in this very direction." Her index finger pointed decisively, marking their path.
"Orcs, a formidable and troublesome adversary," John remarked, a wry smile playing on his lips. "The lengths I'll go to secure an alchemist are boundless." The glint in his eyes revealed a determination to face the challenges ahead, no matter how daunting.
John and Kageko maneuvered stealthily through the dense forest, their nimble footsteps scarcely audible against the soft foliage beneath. They reached a distant base, situated tens of kilometers from their own stronghold. Their innate speed, a testament to their formidable skills, ensured a swift journey that belied the considerable distance.
As John crouched in the concealment of the woods, his keen eyes surveyed the base with a strategic intent. A stark contrast to his own well-developed stronghold, this outpost bore the scars of neglect, a consequence of lacking a skilled builder.
Undeterred, Kageko, with a sense of urgency, traced the outline of the base on the forest floor.
"The base harbors four formidable characters," Kageko explained, her voice a hushed murmur. "An Elven Archer and an Orc Warrior are stationed for patrol in this sector." She deftly drew a pathway that mirrored their vigilance.
John, absorbing the information with a calculating gaze, nodded in acknowledgment.
Kageko continued her intricate mapping, her finger landing on another spot. "An Orc Mage holds position in this strategic location," she pointed out, her movements deliberate.
"Proceed," John urged.
"Though often concealed, I've discerned a pattern—the alchemist ventures beyond the confines of their base, consistently gathering materials at a precise hour each day," Kageko divulged. Her finger traced a meticulous route on the map etched onto the ground.
"Collector classes are lacking, making it an unavoidable task," John observed.
"Nevertheless, he's accompanied by the entire group, player included," Kageko added.
"Recognizing the alchemist's worth within their base," John mused, a smile gracing his face, "they comprehend the significance." He turned to Kageko, praising her, "Your prowess as a scout is truly commendable. You are an invaluable asset."
Kageko averted her gaze, her face tinged with a blush. "I don't merit such esteemed commendation, my lord."
"Believe me, you do," John asserted, his eyes fixed on the distant enemy base.
"I aim to preserve every character we can," declared John, rising from his seat with determination etched across his face. He donned his mask, morphing into a silhouette that seamlessly melded with the encompassing shadows, rendering him nearly imperceptible.
"It's wiser to strike within their base, catching them off guard while they're dispersed, rather than facing them outdoors, united and ready," advised John, a strategist calculating his every move.
"Understood," affirmed Kageko, standing in solidarity with John's tactical approach.
"At this juncture in the game, victory is attainable without resorting to character eliminations. Let's exploit this advantage to its fullest," urged John, forging ahead with purpose.
Kageko trailed behind, a silent companion in the pursuit of success.
John strolled leisurely towards the entrance of the base, a seemingly inconspicuous approach that belied the impending intrigue. The base, peculiarly devoid of traditional walls, instead boasted a meager collection of shoddily constructed huts that barely passed for shelter.
In a calculated move, John triggered the potent effect of the Shadow Veil. The shadows, previously dormant, commenced a mesmerizing dance around him, weaving an intricate illusion that conjured the appearance of a formidable army encircling the vulnerable outpost.
A sudden cry shattered the stillness as the elven archer, perched at a distant vantage point, issued a stark warning. "Enemies incoming!" The urgency in her voice hung in the air, setting the stage for impending conflict.
The Orc Warrior, undeterred by the lack of walls, embarked on a cautious exploration, armed with a crude club fashioned from a hastily picked branch. His brutish demeanor betrayed no inkling of the impending stratagem.
John's lips curled into a confident smile, a prelude to his next move. "Nebula Mirage," he uttered with conviction.
In an instant, a dense and vibrant smoke enveloped him, eclipsing the earlier shadowy illusion. Now, it was no longer the shadows that wove the deception; it was a kaleidoscopic smoke that birthed an optical symphony, projecting multiple clones of John within its iridescent tendrils.
The base, once vulnerable, now stood fortified by the illusion of a legion. John's mastery over the elements had transformed the impending conflict into a spectacle of shadows and colors, leaving the unsuspecting Orc Warrior to grapple with a whimsical mirage that concealed the true nature of the impending threat.
The ethereal illusions woven into the smoke were so convincingly real that the elven archer, consumed by the illusionary threat, unleashed a barrage of attacks upon them.
Upon every impact against John's clone, it merely dissipated into the swirling mist, leaving no tangible foe in its wake.
The orc warrior, with a mighty swing of his club, cleaved through nothing but illusionary figments, the frustration evident on his face.
The orc mage, sensing an unseen adversary, flung fireballs in every conceivable direction, attempting to connect with the elusive intruder.
Amidst the chaos, John's primary target unveiled itself—a formidable orc, a sinewy humanoid bearing the countenance of a boar, wielding a colossal great sword with an air of menacing prowess.
"Illusion magic," the orc bellowed with an aggressive timbre, "is futile if it cannot inflict harm upon its intended victim."
[Player (1)]
John's face concealed behind a black mask, a sly smile painted on his lips. "I am not planning to hurt them," he declared, his voice resonating within the thick smoke that enveloped the area. "You, on the other hand..."
Before the orc could muster a response, a swift dagger thrust into his chest, cutting short any impending retaliation. Kageko, with calculated precision, executed the attack, her movements a dance of lethal grace.
The orc, though quick, managed to evade Kageko's assault, minimizing the potential damage. "Cowardly bastards!" he bellowed, a trickle of blood staining his chest from the small, but stinging, wound.
Fueled by rage, the orc activated Slam, wielding his massive sword with intent. He attempted to bring it crashing down upon Kageko, seeking vengeance for the inflicted injury.
Yet, Kageko, a shadow in the chaos, vanished into the shadows and thick smoke, eluding the impending slam. She emerged unscathed, a testament to her mastery of stealth and evasion.
The orc strained his eyes to discern the elusive presence of his adversaries amidst the chaos. However, his vision merely captured the swift ballet of shadows and the mesmerizing spectacle of innumerable clones, confounding his attempts to pinpoint the true threat.
Amidst the cacophony of battle, the desperate sounds of the orc's minions echoed—a symphony of futile struggles against an enigmatic foe that remained elusive.
Undeterred, the orc, a master of intimidation, sneered disdainfully at the unseen assailant. "Only a feeble soul would cower in the shadows, avoiding direct confrontation," he taunted with a growl.
Yet, a defiant voice cut through the mockery. "Perhaps weakness lies not in the manner of combat but in the failure to adapt." John, a seemingly unassuming figure, stepped forward, defiance gleaming in his eyes. As he raised his hand, a radiant glow emanated from his ring, foretelling the impending eruption of power. "Inferno Burst," he declared.
A colossal sphere of fire erupted from John's outstretched palm, a singular force that defied its apparent simplicity. However, the cunning Nebula Mirage at play created a beguiling illusion—a spectral dance of fireballs manifesting from every conceivable direction. What seemed like a solitary attack became a mesmerizing display of pyrotechnic chaos, leaving the orc momentarily bewildered in the face of this unexpected onslaught.
The perplexed orc found himself at a crossroads, uncertain of the right path to take. In a moment of urgency, he declared, "Defensive Stance," assuming a resilient posture aimed at mitigating potential attacks.
Amidst the thick smoke, John's authoritative voice cut through the tension, declaring, "Wrong move."
A searing Inferno Burst erupted, forming a malevolent circle of fire that mercilessly engulfed the orc. His agonized screams resonated, a symphony of pain amid the fiery tempest.
As the flames slowly dissipated, the defeated orc knelt on the scorched ground, still smoldering from the relentless assault.
Sensing an opportunity, John approached but halted, a realization dawning upon him. "I see," he uttered with discernment.
To John's surprise, the orc rose defiantly, brandishing a blazing giant sword. From a small black hole, a dimensional storage, the orc retrieved a red potion. With deliberate intent, the orc consumed the elixir, the fiery aura intensifying as vitality surged through his veins. The battlefield witnessed a resurgence as the orc, now reinvigorated, stood ready for the ensuing clash.
The potion exerted its effects, effecting an intermediate heal on the wounded orc, yet the curative powers fell short of complete restoration.
"You were merely biding your time, anticipating my lapse in vigilance," John declared with a discerning gaze.
"So, you've caught on swiftly," the orc replied, guffawing. "I trust that incendiary assault you unleashed isn't your sole elemental prowess. Otherwise, this shall be a facile triumph for me."
"Kageko, vacate this place immediately," John commanded with unwavering composure.
"Playtime concludes, diminutive human," the orc proclaimed, brandishing his sword. "Savage Surge." An uncommon and formidable skill unfurled.
The unyielding orc initiated a relentless onslaught, unleashing a series of devastating attacks that echoed through the smoke-covered battleground. His giant sword, ablaze with fierce flames, cut through the air with a menacing precision, leaving trails of fire in its wake. The orc's very body seemed to be a manifestation of inferno, flames dancing around him in a fearsome display of raw power.
With relentless fervor, the orc repeated the motion, waving his colossal sword while the fiery aura surrounding him intensified. The smoke, already thick and enveloping the entire scene, became an eerie canvas against which the fiery spectacle played out.
A powerful wind surged around them, amplifying the intensity of the fiery encounter. The ground beneath them quaked as the orc's brute strength resonated through the battleground, leaving scorched marks in its wake.
The thick smoke, a consequence of the blazing chaos, clung to the air like a sinister veil. However, with each swing, the orc's sweeping attacks dispelled the smoky shroud temporarily, revealing the full extent of the fiery onslaught before the smoke hastily swallowed it back.
"Found you," the orc declared, a sinister laughter escaping his lips as he relished the confrontation. With an unyielding determination, the orc rushed towards John, his massive sword cutting through the air with a deadly swiftness, flames trailing behind.
Reacting with agility, John utilized his speed to evade the oncoming strikes. Yet, despite his nimble maneuvers, the orc's relentless assault brought him perilously close to being struck with each passing fiery blow.
As the thick smoke continued to cloak the battleground, the figures of both combatants emerged from the haze. The orc, covered in flames, and John stood facing each other, a tense silence settling between them. Their eyes locked, each assessing the other with unwavering resolve, as the smoke-drenched battleground echoed with the aftermath of their fierce and fiery confrontation.
"Don't forget, we all possess unique skills," declared the orc as he raised his flaming great sword with an air of authority. "I am Okata, the indomitable leader of the Magdu tribe. My distinctive prowess lies in my ability to seamlessly adapt to elemental attacks, fortifying my strength and transforming my very essence into that of the assaulting element. Should I endure consecutive strikes of the same element, it not only heals but empowers me."
He menacingly pointed the flaming blade at John, demanding, "What is yours?"
John nodded confidently. "I am John Smith, bearer of unconventional talents. Behold, I can transmute stone into bread." A subtle smirk crept into the concealed hollow of his mask. "And with a mere gesture, water turns into wine."
Drawing his sword from his hip, John's form began to vanish within the enigmatic shroud of thick, swirling smoke, leaving an aura of mystery and anticipation hanging in the air.
Okata's laughter reverberated through the air, resonating with a sinister undertone. "I will obliterate that infuriating smugness from your lips," he declared with a malevolent glint in his eyes. Widening his mouth, he bellowed, "All of you, retreat! I shall confront this adversary alone." His authoritative command echoed, compelling his minions to disperse.
"You're facilitating my task more than necessary," John's voice echoed amidst the lingering smoke, its origins shrouded in mystery.
John's enigmatic voice emanated from every direction, creating an eerie atmosphere saturated with anticipation.
A sly grin crept across Okata's face. "Don't succumb to the pressure, don't shatter on me," he cautioned, his confidence radiating amidst the escalating tension.