"True strength lies not in the force of one's hand but in the threads they weave beneath the surface, unseen yet unbroken."
---
Steven's return from the Unseen Forge wasn't one of triumph but of silent resolve. The path back through the Fangs of Eternity was clearer now, as if the land itself acknowledged his claim. Snow crunched beneath his feet, but it was softer, more pliant than before, as though even the elements bent to the raw magic that now coursed through him.
His mind was ablaze with new thoughts, new possibilities. The Spatial Mastery skill tree opened before him like a road into infinity. The very laws of nature he had known seemed trivial compared to the power he now wielded. He could bend the world, warp the distances, tear open rifts in space, or even collapse it upon his enemies. But mastery, as always, demanded understanding. The forge had granted him this strength, but strength without control was nothing more than chaos.
As he descended the last stretch of the mountain, the air grew heavy with the scent of earth and pine. Below, Bastion's Rest, a small village perched on the edge of a vast forest, came into view. It was a backwater settlement, forgotten by most, but to Steven, it was a place of utility, a temporary base to gather resources and learn more about this world's workings. His new abilities needed refinement, and what better place than where prying eyes would never look for him?
The village was bustling with mundane life—traders peddling wares, villagers attending to livestock, and children chasing each other through the streets. None of them could comprehend what Steven was, what power he held within. To them, he was just another traveler passing through.
---
[Location Reached: Bastion's Rest]
[New Objective: Build Resources, Expand Influence]
---
Steven's system chimed with an alert, reminding him that his journey wasn't just about raw power—it was about leveraging that power to control the world around him. But for now, his priorities were more practical. He needed materials, information, and a place to test his abilities away from the prying eyes of more powerful forces.
---
The tavern of Bastion's Rest was as unremarkable as the village itself. A dark, wooden structure, simple and sturdy, it smelled of stale ale and roasted meat. As Steven entered, the hum of conversation stilled for a moment, villagers casting curious glances his way before returning to their drinks and gossip.
Steven made his way to the bar, ignoring the stares. He wasn't here for pleasantries.
Behind the counter, a broad-shouldered woman with graying hair and a sharp gaze sized him up. "Stranger," she greeted curtly. "What'll it be?"
Steven slid a coin across the bar—enough to pay for a meal and a drink, but not enough to draw attention. "Something warm," he replied. "And information, if you've got it."
The woman's eyes flickered with interest at that last part, but she said nothing, simply turning to pour him a mug of ale and motioning to a seat in the corner. Steven took his drink and made his way to the back of the tavern, settling into a shadowed booth where he could observe the room without being seen too clearly himself.
As he sipped his drink, he listened to the conversations around him, picking out bits of useful information. There were rumors of bandit activity to the west, talk of strange lights in the forest, and whispers of a mercenary company that had been passing through the nearby towns, recruiting anyone who could swing a sword.
But none of that interested him. What did catch his attention was a mention of an ancient ruin to the north, deep within the forest—a place said to be guarded by wards so old that even the oldest mages couldn't break them. That sounded more like the kind of place where he could truly test his new abilities.
As he was considering his next move, the tavern door swung open, and a group of rough-looking men entered. Their eyes scanned the room, lingering a little too long on Steven before they moved to take seats at a nearby table.
Steven felt their gaze on him. He didn't need to look up to know they were trouble. It wasn't the first time he had drawn attention in a place like this, and it wouldn't be the last. But as long as they kept their distance, he had no reason to act.
Unfortunately, they didn't seem inclined to keep their distance.
---
"Hey, stranger," one of them called out after a while. His voice was slurred with drink, but there was a dangerous edge to it. "You look like you don't belong here."
Steven said nothing, his focus still on his drink.
"I'm talking to you," the man repeated, louder this time, as he stood and made his way over to Steven's table. His companions followed, grinning like wolves. The tavern had fallen silent again, all eyes on the confrontation.
Steven sighed inwardly. He didn't have time for this.
The man leaned over the table, his breath foul with the stench of alcohol. "You're not from around here, are you?" he sneered. "Think you can just walk into our village without paying your dues?"
Still, Steven said nothing. He wasn't interested in dealing with petty thugs, but if they insisted on pushing him, he would make sure they regretted it.
The man reached out to grab Steven's arm, but before his fingers could make contact, Steven's hand shot out, gripping the man's wrist with a strength that surprised him.
"You really don't want to do that," Steven said, his voice low and calm.
The thug's eyes widened in shock, but he quickly masked it with anger. He tried to pull his hand away, but Steven's grip was like iron.
"You bastard—" the man began, but Steven cut him off, his eyes cold and unyielding.
"I said," Steven repeated, his voice now edged with a quiet menace, "you don't want to do that."
With a flick of his wrist, he twisted the thug's arm, forcing him to his knees with a pained grunt. The man's companions started to move forward, but Steven's glare stopped them in their tracks.
"I suggest you leave," Steven said, his voice soft but carrying an unmistakable weight of authority. "Now."
For a moment, the tension hung heavy in the air. The thugs looked at each other, unsure whether to fight or flee. But the sight of their leader on his knees, helpless in Steven's grasp, seemed to make the decision for them. They muttered curses under their breath as they backed away, dragging their wounded friend with them.
The tavern slowly returned to its normal state of quiet chatter, though the patrons were now more cautious, their gazes avoiding Steven's booth. He took another sip of his drink, his mind already returning to the ancient ruins and the power they might hold.
But as the tavern settled back into its rhythm, a figure approached his table—a man cloaked in dark robes, his face shadowed beneath a hood. He moved with a quiet confidence, and there was something about him that set Steven on edge.
"Impressive," the stranger said, his voice smooth and calm. "You handle yourself well."
Steven glanced up, meeting the man's gaze. There was something unsettling about him, something… 'wrong'.
"I'm not looking for trouble," Steven replied, his tone guarded.
The man chuckled softly, taking a seat across from Steven without invitation. "Neither am I. Quite the opposite, in fact. I'm here to offer you an opportunity."
Steven raised an eyebrow but said nothing, waiting for the man to continue.
"The ruins you're interested in," the stranger said, his voice barely above a whisper, "they're more dangerous than you realize. The wards that guard them are ancient, yes, but they're not the real threat."
Steven's interest piqued, though he kept his expression neutral. "And what is the real threat?"
The stranger leaned in closer, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. "The 'shadows' that linger there. They are older than magic itself, born from the void between worlds. No mere mortal can face them and live."
Steven's mind raced. Shadows from the void? Could this be connected to the figure in Tor Voskar? Was this the next step on his path to mastery?
The stranger smiled, as if sensing Steven's thoughts. "But," he continued, "with the right preparation, they can be dealt with. And I happen to know exactly what you'll need."
Steven's gaze narrowed. "And what's your price?"
The stranger's smile widened, revealing sharp, unnaturally white teeth. "A favor," he said simply. "One that I will collect when the time is right."
Steven stared at the man, weighing his options. He didn't trust this stranger, but the information he had could be valuable. And if there was one thing Steven had learned, it was that power often came with strings attached.
"Fine," Steven said finally. "Tell me what I need."
The stranger's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "Good," he said softly. "We have much to discuss."