Fóntas stood in the aftermath of the battle, the stillness in the air almost suffocating. The mutant zombie lay at her feet, its monstrous form now reduced to a mangled heap. Blood dripped from her sword, and her breath came in ragged gasps, but her mind was sharp, focused.
"Return to Valhalla and fuel my vengeance," she muttered, her voice low and filled with a cold fury. The familiar sensation of power surged through her as the dark energy of the Valhalla Points flowed into her being. She had defeated another powerful foe, and the reward was hers.
But the victory was short-lived.
Mwange stumbled toward her, his face twisted in pain. The [Decay] from the mutant zombie's claws was spreading through his body like wildfire, dark veins snaking up his arm and into his chest. The holy man was strong, but even he couldn't withstand the effects for much longer.
"Fóntas…" he gasped, clutching his staff for support. "I don't think I have much time left."
Fóntas's heart lurched. She had never seen Mwange look so vulnerable. The idea of losing him, of being alone again was almost unbearable. But as she stood there, something new appeared in her vision.
A system notification flashed before her eyes, more intricate and detailed than anything she had seen before:
[VALHALLA'S TREASURY UNLOCKED]
The words hovered in front of her, pulsing with a strange energy. She blinked, and the notification expanded into a window displaying a list of options. It was a store one that offered items, skills, and abilities in exchange for Valhalla Points.
Her eyes darted across the list, searching for anything that could help Mwange. Potions, weapons, armor, skills there were so many options, each one more tempting than the last. But there, near the bottom, was exactly what she needed:
[ PANACEA'S Elixir ] (Single use)
Cost: 75 Valhalla Points
Description: A powerful elixir capable of curing any ailment, disease, or debuff.
Fóntas's breath caught in her throat. The cost was steep 75 Valhalla Points, everything she had earned from her hard-fought battles. She had been saving those points, planning to use them for skills and items that would give her an edge against the gods. Spending them now would leave her with nothing.
She hesitated, her hand hovering over the selection. The weight of the decision bore down on her, the responsibility of choosing between her vengeance and saving a life. Could she afford to lose everything she had worked for?
But then she looked at Mwange, the dark veins spreading further across his chest, his breaths becoming shallow and labored. He had been there for her when she needed him most, and now he was on the brink of death. If she didn't act, he wouldn't survive.
Clenching her jaw, Fóntas made her decision. She couldn't let him die—not like this. With a heavy heart, she selected the elixir and felt the familiar sensation of her points being drained away.
A small vial appeared in her hand, glowing with a soft, golden light. Fóntas clenched the small vial tightly in her hand, her mind racing. The potion, glowing faintly, seemed to weigh heavier than it should. She had spent every single one of her precious Valhalla Points on this a one-time-use potion that could cure any ailment, disease, or debuff. The decision gnawed at her. Would she regret using all her points now, without knowing what else she could face?
The words "Return to Valhalla and fuel my vengeance" echoed in her mind, reminding her of all the blood she had spilled to earn those points. She had been saving them, unsure what they were truly meant for, but now Mwange needed her, and there was no other option.
She exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the decision pressing on her chest.
"Don't hesitate, Fóntas," she muttered under her breath. "He would've done the same for me."
Finally, she knelt beside Father Mwange, who was still writhing in pain from the [Decay] effect. His breathing had become shallow, and his eyes fluttered open, pain clearly etched across his features. Fóntas popped the cork on the vial and gently poured the glowing liquid down his throat. For a moment, nothing happened. Her heart pounded.
But then, Mwange's face relaxed. The black veins creeping across his skin from the zombie's Decay claw began to recede, and his breathing steadied. Fóntas sat back, sighing in relief.
"Thank the gods-" Mwange began, but Fóntas cut him off sharply.
"Don't thank them. They've done nothing for us."As Fóntas stood up, brushing the dirt from her knees, a familiar Ding! echoed in her mind. The system had returned.
[VALHALLA TREASURY]
Fóntas's vision filled with new menus. Her eyes widened as she scrolled through the options that had suddenly appeared. Before, the store only had basic items potions and consumables, like the one she had just used but now, entirely new categories blinked before her: Weapons,Artifacts,Augments,Skills and one grayed-out section:
Forsaken Abilities:[Locked]
She looked at the System confused . Forsaken Abilities?
Her fingers hovered over the grayed-out section, but it remained locked. A notification flickered: [More Valhalla Points needed for Forsaken Abilities].Fóntas cursed under her breath. She had just used all her points, and now that she had access to something far greater, she was left empty handed.
"I'll need to earn more…" she muttered.
Mwange, now standing and stretching cautiously, glanced over at her. "Something wrong?"
She shook her head, her thoughts distant. "No, just looking threw my stat window."
As they turned to leave, a faint, pulsing purple light shimmered from the mutant zombie's remains. Fóntas paused, narrowing her eyes at the glow emanating from the corpse.
"What's that?" Mwange asked, still shaky on his feet."Let's find out," Fóntas replied, her curiosity piqued.She approached cautiously, the stench of decay thick in the air.
Embedded deep within the remains was something glowing faintly. With hesitation, Fóntas reached out and grasped the object. As soon as her fingers closed around it, a soft hum resonated in her hand. She pulled it free from the body.
The light flared for a brief moment, revealing sleek, black-bladed Duel Daggers with silver runes etched along the handle. The weapon's weight settled comfortably in her grip, as if it was made for her.A system notification appeared:
[System Notification]
You have discovered a Epic Item
Fóntas stared at the weapon for a moment as another notification appeared, this one offering an option.
[Do you wish to store Grave Whisper in your system inventory?]
(Y / N)
Without hesitation, she selected "Yes" The scythe shimmered, the purple light swirling faster. Then, with a flash, the weapon vanished from her hand, dissolving into sparkling particles that shot into her system window. Another notification popped up:
Item Stored: Grave Whisper
Rarity: Epic
Type: Duel Daggers
Description:These twin daggers were once used by an ancient assassin who pledged loyalty to the underworld.
Damage: +75%
Critical Hit Chance: +10%
Special Effects:
-Soul Siphon: Restores 5% of the wielder's health per kill.
-Reaper's Presence: For each enemy killed with the daggers, the user gains a stack of [Critical Precision], increasing critical rate by 2% per stack (Maximum stack limit: 20%) . If the user lands a critical hit the souls inside the daggers scream, stunning the enemy for 2 second.
Durability: 800/800
Requirements: Strength 60, Agility 70
[Achievement Unlocked: First Epic Item ]
Reward :+ 25 Valhalla Points Earned
As the daggers shimmered in her hands, a quiet hum vibrated through the air. Grave Whisper, the name echoed in her mind like an omen. These weren't mere weapons they were relics, forged for a soul who had long since abandoned the light. Their dark energy resonated with something deep inside her, a power she was only beginning to understand. With each breath, the weapons seemed to grow heavier, as though the spirits of those who had wielded them before were whispering secrets meant only for her. What have I gotten myself into? she thought, her fingers tightening around the hilts.
Fóntas released a slow breath as the notifications disappeared. The weight of the duel blades, once so tangible in her hand, was now gone, stored safely within her system ready to be summoned when needed.
Mwange stood beside her, eyes still on the spot where the weapoon had been.She glanced at the empty space where the scythe once hovered, feeling its power still connected to her, though out of sight. "I'll make good use of this."
They moved on after a brief rest, continuing their journey through the desolate landscape. The once bustling city had turned into a twisted shadow of itself. Abandoned cars and crumbling buildings loomed over the streets like gravestones. The distant groans of zombies echoed faintly on the wind but Fóntas knew better than to let her guard down.
As they walked, she felt an unsettling chill. The decay of the world was undeniable. It wasn't just the zombies it was everything. The very air seemed thick with the remnants of whatever divine force had left this world to rot.
She gritted her teeth. This place...it was a monument to the gods' cruelty. To their apathy. They let everything crumble and did nothing to stop it. Fóntas's resolve hardened with every step.
After hours of walking, they encountered signs of life human life. Survivors. A small camp had been set up in the remnants of an old church. Makeshift barricades surrounded the area, and a few wary eyes peered out from behind them. The camp looked on edge, but not from the undead.
"These people don't look like the others we've seen," Mwange remarked, studying the survivors as they approached.
"Desperate," Fóntas muttered, noticing the thin, ragged faces staring back at them.
As they neared the camp, a figure stepped forward, their face hidden beneath a tattered hood. Something about this person's posture set Fóntas on edge. They moved like a predator, even though they were clearly human.
The figure's voice was low, almost a growl. "You aren't like the others wandering out there."
"And neither are you," Fóntas replied calmly.
The figure pulled back their hood, revealing a scarred face and intense, piercing eyes. "I've been watching you...I know what you are. ."
Fóntas stiffened, her hand instinctively moving toward her weapon. "You know nothing about me."
The stranger smirked. "More than you know about yourself" Before Fóntas could react, the figure turned and began walking away. "If you survive long enough maybe we'll meet again. Maybe then you'll be ready."
The figure's gaze bore into her, as if seeing through every layer of her armor, every piece of her carefully constructed facade. Fóntas bristled, the hairs on her neck standing on end. She couldn't explain it, but there was something unnerving about the stranger. Something familiar. As they spoke, their voice carried a weight, like they knew things she had yet to understand. More than you know about yourself… The words lodged in her mind, turning over and over, gnawing at her like an itch she couldn't scratch. Who was this person, and why did it feel like they knew something she didn't? She glanced at Mwange, but the uneasy feeling wouldn't leave her. She'd need to figure this out and fast.
She would need to dig deeper into the system. The grayed-out [Forsaken Abilities] section burned in her mind. "I need more Valhalla Points," she said quietly to herself.
"And I need to figure out what the hell am I "