The realm in which Heroes are summoned is a strange place indeed. Yet, it is always the Heroes themselves, which fascinate me. I've met many, you see. Thousands in total: almost all of who have been used and consumed by the need of our great Empire. Each having been put to the glorious task at hand, to bravely serve their duty. Yet, I can hardly ever remember the legends of that number. Those who still live, to stand beside the [King], or those who have been lost to all but the recollections of [Bard]s... these do not hold my attention. Instead, I find that the few I can never forget, no matter how hard I try, are those who never reach greatness.

For example, I once knew a Hero who became a [Healer]. Uncommon in itself, yet made rarer still, as this was not because they desired to save their comrades, but because they claimed to be striken by a peculiar and terrible ailment. A sickness that they assured us, could never be cured, only treated in an effort to stave off horrible consequences. Mainly due to my own curiousity, I will admit that this Hero was allowed the privilege of being kept within the castle for study. Even when it became clear their use would be limited, instead of being disposed of, they were provided with instruction and were taught the basic craft and bargains with the patron Gods seen to be suitable for the task.

I must acknowledge, to observe this subject was the most curious experience. Watching as they performed lesser miracles upon their own flesh, as if constantly attempting to fight against their own body, and doing so in such a manner and knowledge that left even the higher [Priest] I consulted with, perplexed. With ritual and care, I observed as the Hero summoned the magics with a regularity that seemed to border on the impossible. Their proficiency improved until it was all but unmatched, and their Class had been earned in all but record time. Yet, in the end, despite their efforts, the rapid improvement was not enough. Something was lacking, it seemed. No matter their attempts, they could only slow the inevitable. Slowly, the subjects flesh wasted away. Even after I saw fit to intervene, providing outside assistance in the form of potions and elixers, to both my horror and interest: I watched as their muscle and fat steadily disappeared. Day by day, their features grew to that of a living skeleton, pale, clammy and gaunt.

Oh, how the Hero hated us in those final weeks. Were they not so far gone, perhaps they would have been seen as a risk, for no Skill could bind them into complacency, no logic could deter them. Often, the Hero would demand to be sent back to their world. Arguing to be returned to where the medicine their body needed was surely waiting. Indeed, they continued with such demands, even after they were unable to rise from their bed. Trapped in a husk of body, as the magics flowed about their veins and flesh like a living [Aura] known only to the greatest of the clergy. With power that might have sewn limbs back onto bodies, or brought others back from mortal wounds. Yet, useless in their own case.

And then the subject died.

But, such is the way of Heroes, isn't it?

....

The messages came hand in hand with nausea.

[Skill - Rank up] - [Void Walker - Lvl 2]

Pinging loudly, in the odd way the status menu can, I felt a pressure between my temples. The return to the waking world came with a throbbing in my chest, a pounding in my skull, and a sensation of "lacking."

None of which, I handled well.

I'll admit: there's something to be said for the process one goes through after taking in too much information at once. Living people are not machines, and need time to adjust. Myself being very much included.

For my own coping mechanisms, awareness coming back to me, I rolled to the side of my bunk and vomited over the edge.

I'd almost died.

Again.

The first of many conclusions, and not a pleasant one.

Lying back down, nose wrinkling at the stench I knew I would need to wash out sooner, rather than later, I let my thoughts settle.

Or, I tried to let them settle. I had seen better mornings, surely.

It was all there, cycling through my mind's eye. The feeling of dead flesh against my chest. That cold chill of horror, floating among my mind. The draining sensation of lacking mana... it wasn't fun. Laying back down on my bunk, I still felt as if I were rocking atop waves of black glass. As if there were still coils and scales rippling out into the depths of reality around me. All, while I felt the strange rush of the menu letting me know my abilies had improved. Whirling on past, my status floating into sight, clear as the morning sun outside my window.

Name: John

Title: Summoned Hero*

Class: None

General Skills:

Language of men - Lvl 10 - Passive

Identify - Lvl 5 - Active

Inscription - Lvl 5 - Passive

Special Skills:

Lesser Flame Lvl 5 - Active

Hide Presence Lvl 4 - Active

Void Walker Lvl 2 - Passive

Blessing of Forgotten Gods Lvl 5 - Passive

Status:

Vitality: 18

Endurance: 26

Strength: 22

Dexterity: 22

Intelligence: 45

Wisdom: 52

Health: 50/50

Stamina: 20/20

Mana: 10/100

So, I was healthy, I concluded. Though my mana was still extremely low, which likely resulted in the drained sensation I was still feeling, I wasn't in danger from it.

And I had some increases in my listed Skills.

All in all, not bad things, I decided.

The result of using my magic after the hunt was simple enough to understand. [Lesser Flame] was now sitting a bit higher, having finally ticked up to the fifth rank. Perhaps, I considered, it had been since yesterday. Burning the wolf had likely been the trigger for that.

While I was glad it had improved, I was also a little frustrated I hadn't been aware enough to notice it before. Chances were good: the notification had come up right away and I'd been too low on mana to focus on it. I'd been too far gone to focus on such things.

By my interest that morning was centered on the second ability to have changed. The one, which I noticed was still humming with a notification.

[Skill - Rank up] - [Void Walker - Lvl 2]

Fascinating... and terrifying.

[Void Walker] quietly provided simplistic confirmation that everything I'd been through in the dream, was real.

Because, of couse it was.

I'd already assumed as much, but I'd been happy to deny it for the sake of my own well-being. Now, that was no longer an option.

Sitting up with an effort, I found the concept of that horrible dream was slipping away. The details were finally starting to escape, fading off into nothing, like dissipating smoke. Yet, I still remembered some of it. Not everything, true, but enough. Repeating and reinforcing the images, sensations, emotions: I knew I could get most of it to stick.

It wasn't a very pleasant set of memories, but I did my best.

After a long moment, I was simply left with a summary of my observations, no longer able to recall the experience as a whole.

I'd been there, either in the flesh, or in some spiritual equivilant. The rules and physics seemed different from normal reality. Considering that I had all but sprinted across a continent, dashing miles for every leap, it was difficult to claim it was real in the same sense as the cloth beneath me, or the vomit on the floor- but it was still real. Dangerous and unforgiving, operating by its own set of laws: I had a keen understanding that the fear I'd felt was something I needed to treat seriously, and that pretending otherwise would be idiocy at its finest.

At the very least, I could understand that the threats to my life I'd encountered would almost certainly be waiting if I was ever stupid enough to wander back.

Not that I intended on going back, of course.

Because that seemed a rather stupid way to die.

No, I didn't want to go back. If I ever did enough magic to place myself in that situation again, I was going to staple my eyes open. Hell: I was going to dunk myself into a barrel of freezing water, or chew on herbs that prevented sleep. If my luck ran out, I told myself that I'd stab myself with my own dagger and use pain to keep me awake: Anything to prevent falling asleep and getting murdered by ungodly terrors in that strange and twisted reality.

Or worse.

Rationally, there might be worse things possible. For all I knew, death might be a kindness, in such a place as that.

That was not a place I could simply explore. I'd been lucky to have survived twice, and I didn't like the odds of surviving a third venture into the unknown.

But, just because I didn't want to go back, didn't mean it wouldn't ever happen again.

Letting the advantage of my Attributes take over, I performed the due diligence such an experience demanded, and I tried to organize my thoughts. There were details I could infer from all of the sights I'd seen. There were any number of facts to be drawn up and simplified for my benefit. To take in everything and visualize it once more: the throne, the battles, the land, the ocean... Running back along the memories one more time...

In the end, I decided that escaping the golden throne hadn't been a mistake, but the direction I'd taken was. If only I'd found my course and gone elsewhere, instead of sprinting towards the coast, towards the sea.

The depths of those black waves seemed tremendous, indeed. Certainly, I had almost died there, and I couldn't help but shiver at the thought.

If not for that phantom...

Had that really been Gregory, waiting for me on the boat I'd found? Was it his spirit, or his memory, lingering there? Or, it had been something else? Some entity that was just as horrifying as the creatures lurking beneath the surface, and I'd simply been lucky enough to wake in time...

I wasn't even sure I wanted to find the answer.

Shaking my head, I got up. Cleaning up the mess, scrubbing the stone floor as clean as I could with a rough set of rags and a half empty bucket of lukewarm water I had not taken to keeping in the corner of my room, I wasted the last moments before sunrise. Then, dressing myself with appropriate attire, I stood and took a moment to stare out the window of my small room. Light was growing stronger, heat returning to banish the cool air of dawn.

It was a new day, now. There were things I needed to do, and they weren't going to get done sitting in this room.

With one final glance over of my status, I headed out the door.

So much for a "day of rest."

....

The weeks began to blur, just as they had before.

My mana, thankfully, recovered. Sluggishly, at first, then returning to normal behavior, in time. The mana stone I'd been given, remained a curious enigma, as [Identify] provided almost nothing beyond a description of its slightly green coloration and properties. Which were summarized in the simple fact that it contained mana and was highly valued.

I found that to be rather unhelpful.

Of course it contained mana- that was in the name. What could I do with it?

That dead-end lead to little, outside of a few fruitless experiments. I eventually settled to carrying it with me to inspect during my off time.

Though, there was very little of that to be had.

Each day, I rose and attended my duties with Neriah. Quill in hand, ink spinning out into intricate texts, my work was steady. Whatever Neriah did during his day of rest, it seemed to do very little for his personality, or his habit of handing me the tedious and difficult tasks. While I'd noticed the man seemed rather proud of my progress, he didn't allow me time to slack, and seemingly endless pages were provided for my [Inscription] skill to grind out.

He was a busy man, I discovered. Though his ego was almost certainly inflated by this sense of purpose, I couldn't help but notice how many came to him for instruction. As the Baron, clearly, was not one for paperwork, Neriah filled in all the gaps left by that mentality. Working at his side, I watched as piles and stacks of papers and scrolls we had prepared, were handed off to several [Scout] or [Messenger] Classed individuals.

Perhaps, this was due to the timing of my peculiar internship.

The Fyrd was approaching, and almost all idle conversation I caught in passing was centered on the subject. Constant chatter was found, in the kitchens, in the yard: many of the [Guard] seemed especially interested, but there were also some new faces, trickling in every so often. Those of whom I had less experience with. People with [Hunter] or [Slayer] Classes. It seemed they were lodging within the fort until the time came for the Baron to make the final decisions. Perhaps, they would be joining the selected Peace Keepers, though I wasn't certain of it.

On that note: I was quick to recognize that their presence was avoided, and almost as much as my own was. The [Guard] in the fort stayed away from the [Hunter] class as if they were infected with some form of contagious disease, and in turn, I decided to follow their judgement. Which, was rather simple, as none of them seemed interested in getting close to a supposed [Mage].

Nothing against the newcomers, but I was content to err on the side of caution. There was no sense in getting wrapped up in unnecessary trouble, and I knew I could strategically poke and prod information out of Neriah or Gretchen, given enough time.

And I did, a little.

Simple things, really. Basic details, some interesting stories about monster slaying and general talk referencing different towns among the Baron's territory.

As it turns out, tipping the kitchen staff every so often, more than pays for itself. My friendly relationship with the cooking staff of the fort had continued, my occasional bribe pushing things along at a nice pace.

Perhaps, it is just human nature.

Shameless a tactic as it might be, I've found that a person can politely smile at someone, shamelessly pay them for information (while admitting to doing so, no less), and often enough, they're going to decide they like you. Maybe not quite as a friend, but at least as a fellow worthy of a little gossip, here and there.

Cost-wise, I decided that it wasn't all that different from bringing donuts into the office.

Even the most stubborn coworker can be bought, eventually.

But really, I just worked.

Quill, ink, paper: I did not falter in my responsibilities. Even when I wanted nothing more than to go outside, to work my body instead of my mind, to use my time for the sake of improving in some other aspect. I held fast, and continued.

My work was for Neriah, of course. Occasionally, I was also called upon by the Baron, which meant walking with him as he inspected the fort, or simply standing next to him as he met with those visiting. I saw new faces, tied together connections of the world outside the defensive walls...

But mostly I worked for myself.

I was close, and I could tell. Every waking moment of every day, I could feel that there was something approaching, like a pressure or an itch in the far back of my mind. Something which told me, in no uncertain terms: "Soon."

Soon.

With every page, with every study session, with every dip of quill into ink, I was getting closer.

Then, at long last, I reached my goal.

[Intelligence +1]

The message struck like lightning. As if that final blockage preventing the information I needed, snapped under pressure.

It was quickly followed by a second:

[Criteria Met]

I blinked, as the flood rushed into my headspace. The menu flashing across my vision.

[General Skill - Obtained] - [Literacy]

[Literacy] Level 1

You have proven yourself dedicated. The Language of Man is but a spoken tongue, yet the art of written scripts is that of the Gods themselves: gifted to mortals long ago. The power to contain knowledge, even as ages pass. As it has been said: a man who reads can live a thousand lives before death, but a man who never reads lives only one.

Oh, I couldn't help but laugh.

What a rush that was, held up by that sudden epiphany.

Finally!

Alone in that dusty room, I dropped my quill and raised a fist towards the ceiling. I stood on my chair and shouted for joy, before jumping down and plucking the first book I could find off of the shelves. It didn't matter which, because I had to see. I had to witness what I'd worked for, all this time.

Knowledge.

Knowledge, just there for the taking.

Dropping back into my seat, I grinned from ear to ear. I smiled like the Baron did, madness in my eyes, as I skimmed from word to word, symbol to symbol. Progressing along the page, I found everything I'd been waiting for.

Understanding.

Comprehension.

It was slow, true, but I could work on that. I could grind this Skill, just like any other.

Leaning back in my chair, I sighed in relief.

At long last, I had what I needed.

"You're going to be fucking deadly, lad." I chuckled quietly, repeating the Baron's words as I looked up from the book to stare at the massive shelves of texts. Countless volumes, waiting patiently along the walls. "Oh, you have no idea."