After the intense battle against the Shadow Bats, the group of adventurers stopped in the narrow dungeon corridor to catch their breath and assess the damage. The air, thick with the smell of damp stone, blood, and the pungent residue of wolfsbane, seemed to vibrate with the residual tension of the fight. The light from the slowly dwindling torches cast dancing shadows on the uneven walls, creating an atmosphere that was both claustrophobic and mysterious.
Sebastian, sitting on the floor with his back against the cold stone, watched Roland with renewed curiosity. The way the veteran adventurer had anticipated the bats' movements, his apparent knowledge of their weaknesses... it had all been strange. There had been no visible magic, no incantations, no extravagant gestures. Only a quiet certainty in Roland's words, a confidence that didn't seem to come from simple experience.
"Roland," Sebastian began, his voice cautious, as he applied more Lunaria ointment to Liam's injured arm, "before, during the fight... how did you know the bats were so agile, but not very strong? You said something about their 'level', their 'agility'... It didn't seem like ordinary magic."
Roland sighed, a heavy sound laden with weariness. He ran a hand through his dark hair, now disheveled and splattered with stone dust and, yes, dried bat blood. A shadow of melancholy, a deep and ingrained sadness, crossed his weathered face before he answered.
"It's something... I learned at the Eldoria Academy of Adventurers," he said finally, his voice low and somewhat subdued.
The Eldoria Academy of Adventurers. The name resonated in Sebastian's mind like a distant bell. He had heard of it, of course, in tales and legends, but he had never met anyone who had been there. It was a mythical place, almost unreal, a crucible of heroes and legends.
"An academy of adventurers?" Sebastian asked, surprised and, at the same time, fascinated. His life, confined to the borders of his small town and the secrets of the botanical world, had never given him the opportunity to know such exotic places or such extraordinary people.
"That's right," Roland confirmed, with a nod. "It's an ancient and prestigious institution, where the best adventurers in the kingdom are trained. My family...", he paused, as if the words weighed heavily on his tongue, "...has always valued strength above all else. The members of my lineage have been warriors, leaders, conquerors, since time immemorial. The academy was the next logical step, the place to polish raw talent and forge legends." A bitter smile, a grimace that clashed with his usual jovial expression, appeared on his lips. "But I... I didn't fit in. I didn't have the natural aptitude for combat that they expected. Despite my efforts, my hours of training, I never stood out. I was never good enough. I was... a disappointment."
Sebastian remained silent, feeling a deep empathy for Roland. He could imagine the pressure, the expectation, the weight of a family legacy that crushes you with its demands.
"But... what does that have to do with the bats?" Sebastian finally asked, trying to steer the conversation towards less painful ground.
Roland took a deep breath, as if preparing for a difficult confession. He looked away from Sebastian and fixed his gaze on the darkness of the corridor, as if he could see, through the stone, the ghosts of his past.
"At the academy," he began, his voice slow and measured, "in addition to physical and strategic training, they teach us to perceive the world in a different way. To develop a skill they call 'Soul Perception'." He paused, searching for the right words to explain something that, for him, was almost instinctive. "It allows us to perceive the life flow of creatures, their... aura, so to speak. It's not an exact science, it's not like reading a book. It's more like... a feeling."
He held out his hand, palm open, as if he were holding something invisible. "Imagine a flame," he continued. "Its size, its color, the way it flickers, the way it moves... all of that gives you information about its intensity, about its heat. Soul Perception works in a similar way, but with vital energy. Every living being, even inanimate objects, radiates a subtle energy, an aura that reflects its essence. The intensity of that energy, its color, the way it flows, the way it moves... all of that gives me clues about its strength, its agility, its resistance. It's not a precise reading, like the one you would get from a divination spell, but it allows me to get a general idea."
A blurry memory, a fleeting image, crossed Roland's mind. A large, cold classroom, full of young aspiring adventurers. A stern instructor, with a voice that resonated like thunder, pointing to a diagram on the wall. The diagram showed a human figure, surrounded by a halo of multicolored light. "The aura," the instructor said, "is the mirror of the soul. Learn to read it, and you will be able to read your enemies. And yourselves." Roland, then a thin and nervous young man, tried to concentrate, tried to see the aura, but he only saw... nothing. Only the blurry figure in the diagram, and the look of disappointment in his instructor's eyes.
"And what exactly does that 'aura' mean?" Sebastian asked, his eyes fixed on Roland, absorbing every word like a sponge. The idea of an invisible energy surrounding all living beings fascinated him, a new dimension of the world opening up before him, a completely new and unknown field of study.
Roland shrugged, as if the question was too complex for a simple answer. "It's difficult to define precisely," he said. "The scholars of the academy describe it as the manifestation of the life flow, the energy that animates all living beings. It's like an... energetic fingerprint, a vibration that emanates from everything that exists. It's affected by its physical state, its emotional state, even its environment. A wounded warrior will have a weak and trembling aura, like a flame about to go out, while a wild beast in its prime will radiate an intense and chaotic energy, like an uncontrolled bonfire. Even an inanimate object, like this stone wall," he pointed to the corridor wall with a gesture of his hand, "has an aura, although much weaker and more stable, which reflects its composition and its age."
He gestured towards the corridor wall. "Look. With Soul Perception, I can see a kind of faint, grayish mist surrounding the stones. It's not light, really. It's more like... a sensation. A sensation of cold, of density, of antiquity. It tells me that this dungeon is very, very old."
Sebastian tried to concentrate, focusing his gaze on the wall, striving to see beyond the surface, to perceive that "mist" that Roland described. But he only saw stone. Smooth, cold, impenetrable.
"I... I don't see anything," he admitted, with a sigh of frustration.
Roland smiled, a sympathetic and slightly melancholic smile. "It's a skill that requires practice and training," he said. "You don't learn it overnight. At the academy, we spent hours meditating, practicing concentration exercises, learning to sharpen our senses, to perceive those subtle energies. Some were more gifted than others. I...", he paused, and a new shadow of sadness crossed his face, "...let's just say I was never the best at that."
Another memory. This time, a training field. Roland, sweat covering his forehead, trying to concentrate on the aura of a straw dummy. The instructor, beside him, shouted: "Concentrate, Roland! Feel the energy! Visualize the aura!" But Roland couldn't. He only saw straw. Straw and the look of contempt from his peers.
"And how does that help you in combat?" Sebastian asked, returning to the main topic, trying to steer Roland away from those painful memories.
"It allows me to get a general idea of the capabilities of my opponents," Roland explained. "For example, before the bats attacked us, I could perceive that their auras were light and fast, indicating their great agility. But they were also faint and weak, suggesting a low physical resistance. That's why I knew that arrows, or any projectile, would be effective, as long as we managed to hit them. What I didn't anticipate," he added, with a grimace, "was their sonic attack. That's a skill I hadn't seen before."
A new memory. A dark room, lit only by a few candles. Roland, blindfolded, trying to dodge the blows of a training partner. "Use your Soul Perception, Roland," the instructor told him. "Feel his energy. Anticipate his movements." But Roland only felt... darkness. And pain, when the blows of his partner reached him.
"I understand," Sebastian said, nodding slowly, beginning to understand the usefulness, but also the limitations, of Soul Perception. "So it's not a precise reading, but rather... an estimation."
"Exactly," Roland confirmed. "I can't see exact numbers of strength or agility, as if I had a stat sheet in front of me. It's more like... an intuition. I sense the strength of a blow by the intensity of the aura that precedes it, or the speed of a movement by the speed with which its energy flows. But it's not infallible. Creatures with complex auras, or with a very strong will, can distort my perception. And the more powerful the creature, the more difficult it is to 'read' its aura."
"So, even with that ability, you still rely on your own combat skills and experience," Sebastian concluded.
"Of course," Roland replied. "Soul Perception is a useful tool, an advantage, but it's not everything. In the end, what counts is your skill with the sword, your strategy, your ability to adapt. And teamwork, of course." He looked at Markus and Liam, who, although they had remained silent during the conversation, had been listening attentively. Markus, unusually, had a slight wrinkle in his brow, as if he were reflecting on Roland's words. Liam, for his part, was cleaning the dried blood from his daggers with a piece of cloth, but his gaze, normally carefree, now revealed a certain seriousness. "Without you two, I wouldn't be here," Roland admitted, sincerely.
A brief silence settled among them. The crackling of the torches and the distant dripping of water were the only sounds that broke the stillness of the corridor. Sebastian noticed a shadow of sadness in Roland's eyes, a melancholy he hadn't seen before.
"You said your family valued strength above all else," Sebastian said, cautiously, trying to better understand his companion's past, the source of that hidden sadness. "What exactly happened at the academy?"
Roland sighed deeply, a sound laden with resignation and bitterness. "My family... is ancient and noble, although we do not possess great political or economic power. They have always focused on cultivating exceptional warriors, natural leaders. Physical strength and combat prowess are... almost an obsession for them. The Eldoria Academy of Adventurers was the perfect place to hone those skills and turn them into a weapon at the service of the kingdom... or our own house."
He paused, looking at the floor, as if he were ashamed to remember. "But I... I was never what they expected. I tried, I trained hard, day after day, but I never stood out. I didn't have the natural talent that seemed to flow through the veins of my brothers and cousins. My instructors tried, they gave me opportunities, but... I just wasn't good enough. My swordsmanship was... mediocre, at best. My strategy... basic, predictable. And my control of Soul Perception... well, you've seen it. I can get a general idea, but I don't have the precision, the clarity, that others had. At the academy, some could see the aura of a creature in such detail that they could predict its movements with accuracy, anticipate every attack, every feint. I... I could barely distinguish the basic colors."
A final memory, the most painful of all. The graduation ceremony. Roland, standing in the back row, dressed in the academy uniform, but feeling like an impostor. His classmates, receiving their diplomas, their medals, their accolades. His family, watching him from the stands, with expressions of disappointment and shame. And then, the conversation with his father, after the ceremony. "You don't have what it takes, Roland," his father had said, his voice cold and cutting. "You are not worthy of bearing our family name. You'd better find your own way."
He looked up, meeting Sebastian's understanding gaze. "At first, my family tried to be patient. They encouraged me to try harder, to train harder. But over time, the disappointment became evident. They no longer saw me as a future leader, as a glorious warrior, but as a stain on their lineage. Finally... they disowned me. They told me that I didn't have what it took to represent the family, that I would be better off finding my own way, far from them."
A heavy silence fell over the group. Markus, who normally kept out of conversations, looked away, uncomfortable. Liam stopped cleaning his daggers and looked at Roland with an expression of unusual seriousness.
Sebastian felt a deep empathy for Roland. He understood, in his own way, what it was like to feel different, to not fit in with the expectations of others, to be considered a failure.
"That's why I use those... 'codes' when we talk about creatures," Roland continued, breaking the silence, trying to lighten the mood with a forced smile. "It's a way to communicate with Markus and Liam without having to give detailed explanations. 'Agility thirty' doesn't mean that it literally has thirty units of agility. It's just a quick way of telling them that it's very fast. It's a system we developed together, to understand each other better in combat. A way to compensate for my... deficiencies."
"They're not deficiencies, Roland," Sebastian said firmly. "They're... differences. Not all of us can be exceptional warriors. But that doesn't mean we have no value. You're a leader, Roland. You're intelligent, experienced, and you care about your companions. That's worth more than any magical ability."
Roland looked at him, surprised. Then, a genuine smile, the first in a long time, lit up his face.
"Thank you, Sebastian," he said. "That means a lot to me."
Markus, breaking his silence, grunted. "The boy is right," he said. "You're a good leader, Roland. Better than many of those conceited nobles from the academy."
Liam nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, Captain," he said. "You're the best. And, besides, you're the one who pays us, so...". He left the sentence unfinished, with a mischievous smile that made Roland laugh, dissipating the tension of the moment.
"Well, well," Roland said, regaining his composure. "I appreciate the compliments, but let's not get sidetracked. We're in a dungeon, surrounded by dangers, and with two injured companions. So, unless you want to spend the rest of your days here, I suggest we keep moving."
He turned to Sebastian. "You, boy, have a good eye. And now you know a little more about how to 'read' our enemies. Stay alert. And don't hesitate to use those herbs of yours. They've saved our skins more than once."
Sebastian nodded, feeling a renewed confidence. Roland's words, and the support of Markus and Liam, had given him a new impetus. Maybe he wasn't a warrior, but he could be useful. He could make a difference.
"I'll do what I can, Roland," he said, with determination.
And so, the group of adventurers resumed their march, delving deeper into the darkness of the dungeon. The corridor, narrow and damp, seemed to have no end. The light from the slowly dwindling torches revealed only a small portion of the blackness that surrounded them, leaving the rest to the imagination. And Sebastian's imagination, fueled by recent events, quickly populated that darkness with all sorts of horrors.