> You get 300.000 Monster Diamonds!
>You get Spirit of Berserker!
Yes!
A magnificent reward!
Yet, my recent battles have depleted my resources.
The cost of mana and health potions has skyrocketed, a completely baffle escalation.
Is this an effect of my growing power, requiring more significant and faster recovery of health and mana?
Each use of my amplified spells necessitates a costly mana replenishment, a significant drain on my funds, though still manageable.
Regardless those kind of expenditure, I shift my attention toward the flaming sky that covering current town square.
The orcish threat subdued, the aerial elf assaults have ceased.
Judging by their disrupted magical currents, they fled the town square, evidently routed by the searing inferno and devastating gale of my Fire Storm.
This respite allows me to restore my vitality, replenish my magical reserves, and fortify my protective barriers.
During this brief interlude, I noticed Sylvana's awestruck reaction to the carnage: hundreds of incinerated orcs and scores of elves, reduced to ashes by my enhanced Fire Storm.
"Alstair," she breathed, a mixture of admiration and apprehension evident in her voice, "your power... it's terrifying."
"Sylvana," I responded calmly, "Zeta's curse bearer were never to be considered foes. I warned you."
She nodded, her apprehension palpable.
Then, an unexpected downpour arrived, gradually extinguishing the flames in the town square.
But this was no natural rainfall.
"That's no ordinary rain, Alstair," Sylvana observed. "It's magically conjured."
My Fire Pillar barrier sprang to life, shielding us from the enchanted flood.
The purpose of this magical rain remained difficult to understand.
Elanor's forces wouldn't simply deploy a downpour to quench the fires.
Both Sylvana and I observed the unnatural rainfall, searching for its meaning, until it ceased as abruptly as it had begun.
Although the Fire Storm's intensity waned, the lingering heat rapidly vaporized the rain, creating a dense, obscuring mist.
The mist thickened, a palpable unease settling over me.
A strange wind stirred within its depths, raising the suspicion of another of Elanor's deceptive spells.
I grasped Sylvana's hand.
"Sylvana, are you alright?" I asked, my voice laced with concern.
Sylvana didn't respond.
My grip on her hand tightened, yet she remained motionless.
Alarm surged as I pulled her close, only to find her vanished into the swirling mist.
The magical realm beneath it pulsed, expanding, threatening to ensnare me in its illusions.
"Alstair." A voice, ancient and serene, yet brimming with familiar comfort, reached me.
It was the voice that had roused me countless mornings, the voice that had always urged me to eat – my mother's voice.
"Mother?" My gaze swept the scene, finally settling on a figure emerging from the dissipating mist.
There she stood, my mother, in her everyday clothes, her face illuminated by a smile I'd rarely witnessed these past months.
The sight of her, awake and smiling, was breathtaking, transporting me to a realm of pure fantasy.
She took my hand, her smile warming me.
"It's alright, dear. I've recovered. You've done remarkably well, fulfilling your duty. I'm so proud of you, my son."
Her touch, a gentle caress on my cheek, mirrored the tender affection of my childhood.
"Brother!" My sister's voice rang out from behind.
Before I could react, Arlene embraced me, her warmth echoing my mother's reassurance.
"Brother, it's alright! Mother and I are awake! We're so grateful for your help!" Her voice vibrated with relief and fervent gratitude.
The weight lifted from my shoulders; the anxieties that had gnawed at me vanished with my mother and sister's return from their prolonged unconsciousness.
I couldn't comprehend the relentless pounding of my heart during those perilous quests, fueled solely by my desperate need to save my family.
That agonizing pressure dissolved, replaced by the unwavering support of these two incredible women.
"Mother, Arlene, you can't imagine how happy I am to see you safe," I breathed, a wave of relief washing over me. "And, oh, I acquired a considerable amount of Monster Diamonds! I'd love to treat you both to a luxurious vacation."
My mother smiled.
"Thank you, son. A holiday is long overdue; we've been so consumed by work."
Arlene chimed in, her excitement bubbling over.
"Are we going to a concert, too? I know a fantastic venue with a concert! Let's go!"
Triumphantly, I declared, "Yes! Let's do it. Mom, Arlene, we're buying a house! No more landlord's wrath!"
Their joyous smiles were my reward.
Was this paradise?
My quest to liberate Elanor, my knightly duties—all faded into insignificance.
Then suddenly, the system interface materialized, cruelly flaunting my magical prowess.
A chilling dread, the palpable animosity of Zeta Maurer, washed over me.
Zeta Maurer, a skeletal figure shrouded in a voluminous black robe, materialized, the infernal flames licking his form, instantly shattering the idyllic vision my family held.
"The choice is yours, Alstair," Zeta rasped, his voice a chilling whisper from the grave.
"Embrace this manufactured bliss, abandon your struggles, or confront my hellish system, forging your path to ultimate power." He continued, his tone laced with bitter irony, "Heaven's allure is undeniable, yet few dare the arduous ascent to true liberation."
I inhaled deeply, battling the unwelcome intrusion.
These ghastly specters had shattered my hard-earned respite.
"I understand, Zeta," I responded, my voice firm. "The road to my family's salvation is long, but my resolve is unyielding. This artificial paradise cannot deter me."
"Prove it, Alstair!" Zeta shrieked, his laughter echoing like a death knell. "Let the System judge your efforts! Even death may be the cost!"
With Zeta's departure, I unleashed a "Raging Tempest," a furious cyclone that banished the insidious mist of illusion.
Reality crashed back—the ravaged town square, the smoldering remains of battle, the ash-choked ruins.
Yet, my victory was bittersweet.
Sylvana, kneeling beside me, was vacant, her eyes devoid of life.
"Sylvana, can you hear me? Wake up!" I shouted, desperate to rouse her.
She stirred, her lips forming a whispered apology.
Tears streamed down her face, her anguish palpable.
The insidious spell of Elanor had left its mark, but I could not decipher its nature.
Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself, then sharply slapped her face, forcing her consciousness to surface.
My slap stung Sylvana's left cheek, painting it red.
It was a gentle strike, a far cry from my full force.
She cradled her face, her eyes wide with disbelief.
"You… you slape me?" she stammered, utterly bewildered.
"Finally, you acknowledge my existence," I retorted, firmly pulling her to her feet. "You can return the favor later. For now, let's focus on the mission!"
As Sylvana rose, surveying the ravaged town square and the charred remains of the orcs, a flicker of understanding dawned.
She rubbed her temples, the manipulative spell's hold finally breaking.
"Oh gods… the chaos… I remember now," she gasped, gripping my shoulder.
My smile mirrored her dawning comprehension.
But our shared awakening was immediately overshadowed.
A fiery crimson circle materialized in the heavens, drawing our attention.
Both of us recognized the sigil of a potent incantation in progress.
Ten elves, survivors of Elanor's elite sorcerer corps, hovered at the circle's edge, their arcane prowess evident.
At its heart stood a young woman, a striking elf with fiery red hair, draped in a pristine white robe, her footwear imbued with spells of invisibility and levitation.
She bore a striking resemblance to Sylvana—smaller, less curvaceous—but the familial connection was undeniable.
This was Elanor, the sister Sylvana had spoken of.
"Elanor!" Sylvana warned, her voice sharp as the red-haired elf descended, her gaze locking onto us.
Instantly, Sylvana drew her magical flying sword, ready to counter any attack.
Yet, Elanor remained motionless, a hand raised, signaling her aerial cohorts to stand down.
A conversation, it seemed, preceded any conflict.
"Sylvana! I believed Vorgruth had annihilated you and your pathetic clan! Yet here you are, groveling before a Zeta's curse-bearer! How utterly pathetic!" Elanor sneered, her voice dripping with venomous contempt.
"Silence, Elanor!" Sylvana roared, her voice thick with righteous fury. "You committed unspeakable acts, shattering our family!"
"Family?" Elanor scoffed, her anger flaring. "Lythandor perished through their own negligence and weakness! I'm not bound by their failings! I command orcish and elven legions! None can defy me!"
Her confidence, however, masked a simmering rage, particularly whenever her eyes fell upon me.
A crimson aura blazed around Elanor as she unleashed a torrent of furious insult. "You wretched, accursed mortal!" she shrieked, her voice a venomous hiss.
"Your triumph is a delusion! This conflict is far from concluded! The treacherous deceit you perpetrated, plunging this entire city into anarchy, will be your undoing!"
It was premature, reckless even, to demand the key to the tower's upper levels—those beyond the 666th floor—from Elanor directly.
However, a newly assigned quest, issued by the System, inextricably linked my fate to hers and the remnants of her elven army, demanding my immediate attention.
> Quest Activated: Defeat Elanor the Manipulative Sorcerer!
"You have big words, Eleanor, I give you that," I challenged, "but actions speak louder."
Eleanor, with a sudden, decisive gesture, raised her scepter, its ruby tip gleaming.
With blinding speed, she and her ten elven sorcerers conjured shimmering chains, laced with razor-sharp blades, that whirred towards me.
I countered immediately, my Fire Pillar defense a blazing bulwark against Eleanor's assault.
"Alstair, beware!" Sylvana cried, launching her own aerial blades to intercept the deadly chains.
A furious clash erupted – steel screamed, flames crackled – a maelstrom of magical energy.
The intensity suggested a near-equal contest of power between Sylvana and Eleanor.
Yet, a disquieting premonition gnawed at me.
My gaze fell upon a newly formed magical circle on the platform, a mirror image of Eleanor's.
Before I could fully deploy my Fire Pillar, chains erupted from this new circle, ensnaring Sylvana, silencing her magic.
My barrier deflected the attack, but my ally was helpless.
"Cursed chains! I'm trapped!" Sylvana's desperate struggle was futile.
Before I could unleash my Raging Tempest to sever the spell, the elves snatched her away, dragging her like a captive towards Eleanor's fortress.
"Alstair…!" Her panicked cry spurred me into action.
I invoked Gaia's Endowment, bolstering my strength and speed, and pursued her relentlessly.
The chase was a blur; I saw the elves vanish into the palace, their flight swift and silent.
I retaliated swiftly trying to keep the pace with those darn flying elves, until I finally reached the palace.
Surprisingly enough, as soon as I came in, Eleanor's palace gates slammed shut, sealed by a formidable barrier.
Her fury was palpable, yet her cunning was undeniable; she had lured us both into a deadly trap.
The chaos escalated.
Eleanor's dark sorcery unleashed ten hulking orcs, clad in surprisingly light armor yet wielding fearsome twin blades. Their powerful physiques and predatory green eyes spoke volumes – these were no ordinary brutes; they were Eleanor's elite shock troops, ferocious and agile.
The battle was far from over.
Elanor's boast echoed, venomous and triumphant.
"The fight is decided, spell-wielder! Consider yourself fortunate that my elite orcish legions were necessary. One more incantation, and your precious Sylvana will be pulverized by my magical restraints!" Her condescending tone reeked of superiority.
Annihilating Elanor and her forces would be trivial.
A simple deadly spell with wide range of attack or might be a simultaneous quick casting spell would suffice.
But such a victory came at an unacceptable cost.
Sylvana, bound and defenseless, would perish instantly.
Damn it!
Should I risk Sylvana's brutal demise for a swift conquest?
Or is this a calculated gambit by Elanor, a desperate attempt to avoid the full might of my magic?
Regardless, surrender is not an option.
Victory, for my family, is important.
I will win!