Inside the chest was a gleaming sword, its blade etched with intricate designs that seemed to pulse with a faint blue light. Beside it was a small pouch of gold coins and a scroll, tied with a red ribbon.
Item Acquired: Blade of the Fallen King
Type: Weapon
Rarity: Rare
Effect: Increases attack power by +10 and grants a 5% chance to inflict a bleed effect on enemies, causing additional damage over time.
I didn't have time to marvel at the weapon's beauty or the power it contained. I quickly equipped it, feeling its weight settle comfortably in my hand.
The Blade of the Fallen King felt like an extension of my own arm as I gripped its hilt. The balance was perfect, the blade practically humming with latent energy. There was no time to waste admiring it, though—the system message was a constant reminder that my time was running out.
[You're leaving the world in 3 minutes.]
Panic nipped at the edges of my thoughts, but I forced it down. I needed to squeeze every last second out of this time, every last bit of experience before I was yanked back to the real world and into the chaos that awaited me in Eldoria.
I glanced around the small chamber one last time, searching for anything that might give me another boost in experience, but it was clear. I'd gotten all I could from here. I turned and sprinted back through the narrow passage, retracing my steps to the main cavern where the alpha wolf's body lay cooling in the dark.
As I emerged from the passage, I hesitated for just a second, catching my breath and scanning the chamber once more. I had to think fast—if I could lure another pack of wolves or find a hidden enemy, it might just push me over the edge to another level. But the den was eerily quiet, the air heavy with the scent of blood and death.
[You're leaving the world in 2 minutes.]
Damn it. I couldn't afford to waste any more time here. I had to be smart about this. If there were no enemies left to fight, I needed to prepare myself as best as possible for what awaited me back in Eldoria.
I opened the system interface, quickly navigating to my skills and stats. With the experience from the alpha wolf and the chest, I had reached Level 4, but I was close—so close—to leveling up again. The blade in my hand had given me a significant boost in attack power, and the new skills I had unlocked made me a more formidable warrior than I had been just hours ago.
But I knew it wouldn't be enough. The battle in Eldoria was real, and my enemies weren't mere digital constructs—they were flesh and blood, and they would show no mercy. I needed every advantage I could muster.
My eyes fell on the scroll I had found in the chest, still tied with a red ribbon. It looked important—like something that might hold the key to gaining one last edge before I was forced to leave this world. I pulled it from my inventory and untied the ribbon, quickly unfurling the parchment.
As I read the words inscribed on the scroll, a shiver ran down my spine. The text was written in a language I didn't fully understand, but the meaning was clear enough.
Scroll of the Berserker's Oath
Effect: Increases the user's strength and attack speed by 20% for 10 minutes. However, the user will take 30% more damage from all sources during this time. Once the effect ends, the user will be left with 1 HP.
It was a gamble—an all-or-nothing move that could either give me the power I needed to survive the next battle or leave me on the brink of death, utterly vulnerable. But it was the best option I had, and I wasn't about to back down now.
I closed the scroll and took a deep breath, steeling myself for what was to come. If I used this in Eldoria, it could turn the tide of battle, but I would need to be strategic, careful. I couldn't afford to waste the boost it would give me.
[You're leaving the world in 1 minute.]
[Equipment Bonus will be given in due time.]
The countdown was relentless, ticking away my remaining time in this world. I secured the scroll in my belt, ready to use it at a moment's notice, and prepared myself mentally for the transition back to Eldoria. My body was tense, every muscle coiled like a spring, ready to launch into action the second I was back in the real world.
The system interface began to fade, the edges of the cave blurring as reality began to pull me back. My heart raced, a mixture of fear and anticipation coursing through me. The last few seconds ticked down, and then, with a final flash of light, the world dissolved around me.
I was falling.
The sensation was disorienting, a rush of air and color as I tumbled through a void, the weightlessness both terrifying and exhilarating. My thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm, and for a brief, heart-stopping moment, I was nothing—no body, no mind, just a consciousness adrift in an endless sea of darkness.
But then, with a sudden jolt, I was back.
The cold stone floor of the throne room slammed into my side, the impact knocking the wind from my lungs. I gasped, the sharp, acrid smell of smoke and blood filling my nostrils as I struggled to orient myself. The sounds of battle crashed over me—shouts, the clang of steel on steel, the roar of the barbarians as they surged through the shattered doors of the castle.
I pushed myself to my feet, blinking away the haze of the transition. My body felt heavier, more solid than it had in the game world, but the adrenaline was still pumping through my veins, driving me to action.
The throne room was in chaos. The barbarians had breached the castle's defenses, their hulking forms charging into the chamber with wild abandon. The guards were fighting valiantly, but they were outnumbered, overwhelmed by the sheer ferocity of the attackers.
And there, at the center of it all, was the throne—now stained with the blood of my uncle, King Valen, his lifeless body slumped across the seat of power. The sight of him, the man who had raised me, who had tried to protect me from the horrors of my past, filled me with a cold, burning rage.
This was my chance. This was the moment I had prepared for.
I drew the Blade of the Fallen King, its blue-etched runes glowing faintly in the dim light of the throne room. The weight of it in my hand was reassuring, the familiar feel of the weapon grounding me as I stepped forward into the fray.
One of the barbarians saw me approach, his face twisting into a sneer as he hefted a massive war hammer. He raised it high, ready to bring it down on my head, but I was faster. The blade of my sword flashed through the air, cutting through his arm and severing it at the elbow. The barbarian roared in pain, staggering back as blood gushed from the wound.
I didn't give him a chance to recover. I moved in close, driving the blade into his chest, the tip of the sword bursting out through his back. The barbarian let out a final, gurgling breath before crumpling to the floor, his eyes glazing over in death.
I pulled my sword free, the blade slick with blood, and turned to face the next attacker. There was no time to think, no time to hesitate. The battle raged around me, a maelstrom of violence and death, and I was in the center of it all.
Another barbarian charged at me, a massive axe swinging down toward my head. I dodged to the side, the axe missing me by inches as it buried itself in the stone floor. I countered with a quick slash to the barbarian's leg, severing the tendons and dropping him to his knees. A swift thrust to the heart finished him off, and I turned to face the next threat.
The room was a blur of motion, the din of battle deafening as I fought my way through the horde. The Blade of the Fallen King seemed to sing in my hand, cutting through flesh and bone with a deadly grace. The power of the weapon, combined with the skills I had gained in the game world, made me a force to be reckoned with, and the barbarians began to fall before me like wheat before the scythe.
But I wasn't invincible. The adrenaline was wearing off, and I could feel the exhaustion creeping in, my muscles burning with every swing of the sword. I was outnumbered, and no matter how skilled I had become, there were too many of them.
I fought on, my movements growing slower, more labored. A barbarian's sword grazed my arm, the sharp pain a stark reminder of how real this battle was. Blood trickled down my arm, but I ignored it, pushing through the pain as I parriedanother attack.
Just when I thought I couldn't keep going, when my strength was about to give out, I remembered the scroll.
The Scroll of the Berserker's Oath.
I ducked behind a toppled column, catching my breath as I fumbled for the scroll in my belt. The sounds of battle echoed around me, the shouts of the guards, the cries of the dying, the roar of the barbarians. I had to act fast.
I unfurled the scroll, my hands shaking as I read the incantation aloud. The words were strange, ancient, but I could feel the power in them, the magic thrumming in the air around me as I spoke.
As I finished the last word, a surge of energy exploded within me, so intense that it nearly knocked me off my feet. My vision blurred, and for a moment, I thought I might pass out from the sheer force of it. But then the power settled into my limbs, my muscles swelling with strength, my reflexes sharpening to a razor's edge.