Artyom was all well and done with Crystal Kobold Crossing, and ready to head back into town after a job well done. He’d exited the cave and made it to the oddly placed banana tree in the clearing before someone had other ideas for him. Out of seemingly nowhere, a flurry of crossbow bolts slammed into Artyom’s chest, kicking the wind out of him.

His armor skill prevented them from puncturing his body, but they heavily scratched his skin and the force they imparted sent him falling to the ground. Before he could recover, a shockwave travelled through the ground towards him, breaking apart the topsoil on its way, until it hit Artyom in the form of a dense, earthen spike that sent him flying forwards towards its source.

Once again, Artyom’s armor spell protected him from fatal injury, but the force of this blow penetrated his skin into the rest of his body. Artyom coughed up some blood as he went sailing in the air, certain that the attack had broken something.

Artyom really felt like an idiot at that moment. In retrospect, the entire operation was half-assed. Even without funds or time to scout out the location, he should’ve prepared as best he could. There were a multitude of spells he could’ve cast or other precautions he could’ve taken to prevent this from happening. There’s a saying that a mage’s strength is in their ability to prepare for any scenario, but an unprepared mage was as easy to kill as a baby. What kind of mage was he that he couldn’t prepare for a bunch of Kobolds of all things? It was embarrassing, but the battle wasn’t over. Artyom always practiced selecting and casting spells in a pinch for any emergency, and this definitely classified as one.

“And that’s why I’m in charge!” boasted a voice coming from behind the banana tree in a gruff hiss. “Come on out, let’s finish this up while he’s down!”

Dozens of Kobolds came rushing out behind the maple trees at the edge of the clearing and ran towards Artyom with their pickaxes raised. They were ready to dig through his skin as if it was just rock. Artyom didn’t give them the chance.

“Sonic Waverider”

The spell activated right before he landed. The Kobolds were about to swing their raised pickaxes the moment his body hit the ground, but they didn’t even hear the impact. A swish and flying legs in the course of a second left all of the Kobolds disarmed, their weapons sent flying from their hands.

Artyom was a blur on the grass-covered battlefield, coming out of a spin on his back in an impromptu offensive breakdance. Essentially being cannon fodder, the Kobolds weren’t spared any showmanship from Artyom, who then knocked them down with a flurry of punches and jabs, and in one case a roundhouse kick. That’s not to say the Kobolds got off easy. The barely subsonic blows caused their bodies to crumple at the sites of impact, leaving them with broken bones and internal bleeding.

Artyom was not one to resort to lethality by default, at least as captain of the Terran Defense Force. A strong scouting team and information network gave them that luxury, but here, Artyom was on his own. And besides, it was now a matter of life or death.

The next wave of Kobolds jumped over their fallen comrades, ready to continue their work. Most were knocked down with debilitating blows, but a lucky few were able to get a swing in, some of them even connecting! Sharpened points made contact with Artyom’s armored skin with enough force to damage the vulnerable flesh below. At least, with what should’ve been enough force. Rather than a satisfying stab, the pickaxes bounced right off instead.

“Kinetic Distribution,” casted Artyom, before the second wave even started moving. Artyom was aware of his armor spells’ greatest weakness. He learned this spell specifically to deal with it by magically distributing the kinetic energy of any physical blows evenly across his skin, making what should’ve been a severe blow feel like getting lightly slapped on all parts of his body at once.

The survivors of the second wave looked worried at the ineffectiveness of their attacks, some even checking their pickaxes to see if the foreman’s skill was still active. Imagine the sheer confidence of anyone who wields the power to dig through literal tank armor. Then imagine their faces when they realize it isn’t enough.

With a roar, Artyom took out this next wave of Kobolds with a single roundhouse kick, sending them sprawling to the ground. The third wave approached now, with the fourth right behind them trying to get a hit in through the gaps.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing to my workers?!” shouted the foreman from the distance. “[Team Skill: Extreme Strength], [Team Skill: Hypervigilance], [Team Skill: Extreme Resistance]! How much of the heavy lifting do I have to do for you dumbasses?!”

In the world of Skill and spell names, the fancier they sounded and the more severe their adjectives, the more powerful they were expected to be. Words like “Extreme” or “Hyper”, while generally not associated with the apex of an ability, were still reserved for incredibly powerful effects. What kind of boss monster was this foreman, especially surrounded by Kobolds in such a low-danger area?

Artyom thought that the foreman’s ability to use such high level team Skills was utter bullshit. But he hadn’t survived for years in the War of Seven Worlds and the Terran Defence Force without learning to throw around copious amounts of bullshit himself. And “Hypervigilance” gave him all the ammunition he needed to do so.

“Aura Flux: Confusion and Fear!” Artyom casted, letting the magical energies of both a Confusion and Fear aura propagate from his body in alternating pulses. While one aura was enough to hinder even the most well trained soldier, two was outright debilitating. Even then, having a strong enough willpower would allow the victim of a debuff aura to partially fight it off with enough time. Being constantly hit with two such auras alternatively would prevent any chance of getting used to either of them, while making the overall effect feel absolutely horrific.

The next two waves of Kobolds came to a near stop, with the ones in the back tripping over the frontliners. The small army still behind them wasn’t spared either. Waves of confusion alternating with bursts of fear forced the Kobolds back, making them frantically try to make sense of what was going on. Most dropped their weapons while falling to their knees, while others gripped their heads in a futile attempt at gaining some sort of mental stability. Artyom wasn’t done with auras yet, however. He’d led armies, boosting their capabilities while reducing his enemies to a quivering mess.

“Berserker Aura!” Artyom focused this particular aura inwards, as a wave of adrenaline spiked through his veins and his pupils dilated. The screams of the Kobolds and their foreman became a distant noise as Artyom’s mind became entirely focused on ending this fight. With the Kobolds taken care of and Artyom in a stronger position, there was only one threat left.

Artyom sprinted towards where he heard the foreman, blades of grass being tossed upwards in his wake. Another shockwave travelled through the ground towards him, but Artyom was ready for it. He hopped to the side, out of its way, but as soon as it reached where he had been, the spell activated and brought a series of spikes out of the ground in a wide area. A few at the very rim struck Artyom, throwing him off balance, but otherwise not stopping or injuring him.

Another dash later, Artyom made it to the clearing and spotted the foreman standing behind the banana tree. While Artyom readied another cast of Null Magic, the foreman beat him to the punch and stomped both of his feet on the ground with a powerful jump. Artyom could feel the magic density of the surrounding area drain as it was all channeled through the foreman and into the ground. This time, instead of a directed attack, the shockwave of magic propagated throughout the clearing.

The ground it passed cracked into a spiderweb of fissures, chunks of soil and rock flying into the air as a terrible earthquake brought Artyom to his knees. Chunks of incredibly dense soil and rock pelted him, unable to pierce his skin but managing to inflict plenty of pain. Artyom’s Berserker Aura allowed him to ignore the damage, but he couldn’t help but be surprised at how a thrown rock of all things hurt so much with all of his defenses active. Especially after the foreman being subjected to Aura Flux! Seriously, who was this guy?

Artyom’s hyper-focused state allowed him to regain his balance on the shifting ground, and he began leaping between the large chunks of dirt and rocks towards the foreman. He activated Null Magic, cutting the foreman off from absorbing any more magical energy from his surroundings, but Artyom noticed that the foreman’s existing energy wasn’t being drawn out. Oh well, one step at a time.

“That’s not going to stop me this time, kid! I’ve got all the magic I need!” shouted the foreman in a taunt.

Several of the large chunks of earth began to collect in massive clumps several feet in diameter, before compressing into rocks the size of small fists and being launched towards Artyom fast enough to create a pressure wave behind them. So that explained why his rocks hurt so much. With such a high density, they would have to carry a tremendous amount of force in order to move at those speeds. Each one would be like getting hit with a barreling freight train.

Despite the poor terrain, Artyom was able to dodge around several of the rocks, and deflected a few others with well-timed flicks of his wrist. Too bad it wasn’t enough.

One of the stupidly dense rocks hit Artyom on the head, stunning him. The insane amount of force the rock imparted overloaded and ended the effects of Kinetic Distribution, focusing its energy into his head, but not without greatly slowing down first. The battle didn’t seem to be over yet however, as the magical energy in the air began to grow denser as the tremors came to a stop. Still in a haze from the head injury, Artyom wasn’t in a state to counter. It was a miracle in and of itself that the attack didn’t knock him out, let alone turn his head into a red mist.

Artyom wished he could’ve used his stronger spells, but without the artificial boost from a System and the Skills it provided, there was only so much a human being could do with magic on their own.

“Hey, what gives? Don’t tell me you’ve got another trick,” said the foreman. “I swear, if you have anything more up your sleeve, I’m gonna…”

The foreman’s sentence was interrupted as a vine as thick as a tree trunk slammed into him, throwing him to the ground. He tried to get up, but a series of fast growing tree roots began to ensnare his limbs, their collective strength keeping him restrained. The roots continued to grow, raising the foreman into the air while keeping him tied.

A powerful feminine voice originating from the banana tree boomed in rage.

“You have desecrated this sacred grove! That which was wrought by Aranyani before the taint. As its protector, I cannot allow you to continue!”

The roots continued to grow around the foreman, circling his torso and head, before there was a snap. His neck was twisted by the vines in an inhuman angle. The foreman stopped fighting back and slumped, before being dropped to the ground, dead.

Seeing the fate of their leader at such a terrible show of force, the remaining conscious Kobolds ran off into the forest in all directions, abandoning the teamwork they showcased before.

Artyom, finally recovering from his daze, tried to comprehend what just happened. He didn’t have much time, as roots began to quickly grow around his feet. Before it occurred to him to jump away, they stopped and the voice addressed him.

“Curious, you are not touched by the taint. Who are you, why are you here, and do you wish to harm this tree?”

“Uh no, no harm meant here. I was just about on my way, actually,” replied Artyom, rubbing his head and trying to keep back the pain beginning to form inside it. He’d have to be careful here. While this… tree?… was an expositional gold mine, it could just as well kill him. With his injuries and no preparation, Artyom wasn’t in a state to fight. Especially against whoever this was when it could snap the foreman’s neck so easily when a piledriver from 10 feet up didn’t do a thing.

“You will answer all my questions. The taint does not touch you, yet you act contrarily.”

“Ok, ok… ma’am? My name is Artyom, I’m here because I wanted to meet with the Great Hero and I heard he was going to be coming through here. And what do you mean by the taint?”

“That is better. The taint is what I personally call it. It is a horrific blight that affects all who are born with intelligence, corrupting their minds and bodies.”

Artyom, despite his head injury, was paying rapt attention to the tree. Even in his current state, he was able to piece together the obvious. The taint was probably what was making everyone in this World so dumb, but it didn’t explain why it was a thing in the first place. Might as well ask.

“Where did the taint come from? And does it have anything to do with another world?” He’d might as well get some information for his mission if this tree lady was going to milk him for his life story.

“I know not the answer to either of these questions. But other worlds? If you ask of that, then I know who you are and I am free from my curse!”

“Wait, what?” Artyom asked, very confused at the relevance of the new information.

“My name is Pom, I was a spirit of nature cursed to protect this grove until I met one born from beyond this mortal world. I always thought it would be the divine to free me, but one from another world fits the bounds of my curse just as well.”

Pom’s voice was beginning to grow quieter, as if slowly fading.

“Hold on, do you know anything about other worlds, or of anyone else from there?” asked Artyom frantically. There didn’t seem to be much more time to ask, if the curse was fading.

“I know not about it. I was cursed for my violence and acts of retribution, but I have always been a servant of Aranyani. I feel my connection here fading, and the taint is pushing me away from this mortal realm. You, who know of and are free from this blight, must realize the greatness lost to the mortals. You have a duty to set forth in motion the contumacy against it. Please, save …”

She was gone.

Artyom stared at the tree, somehow still standing after the foreman’s attack. He rubbed at his head again, dusted off his clothes, and began heading back to town.

“Sorry, Pom. I already have my duty, and it’s to the people of Earth.”