Fistpumping and running around trees on the way back, I sang ‘We are the champions’, letting loose the occasional through the trees. Not only had I become more durable and Intelligent, but Level 3 definitely did not count as a dud level. Aside from the undead themselves, the Necromancer’s prime ability came at Level 3.

{Negative Energy}

The usage of negative energy isn't limited to just Necromancers, but compared to other classes it provides a great deal more utility. Healing and enhancing minions, damaging and debuffing the enemy, detection abilities, even thematic stuff like making nearby plants wilt; usage of negative energy was a staple to the Necromancer.

Well, being Level 3 I didn't have the ability to use most of that. However unlocking the {Negative Energy} tree brought a new element from Underworld. From it I could try to further work out the rules of the world, for SCIENCE!

That is said in retrospect, because after leveling up I was more interested in having fun at the moment, cartwheeling into the village. Though they were less cartwheels and more smacking into the ground. I'd calmed down a bit by the time I saw the houses, but my happy mood remained. An orange colored sky complimented the midsummer breeze. Walking along the stream, I wondered if there was anything like a firefly in the world. Finally losing the excessive energy from leveling up, I started brewing a healing potion to replace the one given to Troy. After all, it would definitely be needed the next day.

Finishing the potion with a swirl, a shadow fell near the workspace, kept at bay by the flames. Tyra returned for a chat, thankfully. She and her cohorts already wasted a day being stunned, negotiations would never proceed if that kept up. Seeing a fresh, uninjured arm, her only reaction was to bite her lip.

Well, seeing as how you're so resolute now, why don’t you speak.

“You are quite blessed by the Patriarch.”

“Hah, blessed, cursed; who knows what who was thinking.” Please let us move on to your actual line of questioning. These sorts of lies don't amuse me. “I am what I am, there's no point wondering about it.”

“It is quite the strange ability…” Blah blah blah, blah blah. “...treasures with such powers are highly sought after.”

After a period of zoning out, giving generic answers and question, my ears perked up at treasure. Wow, only about 20 minutes passed, are you in a rush Tyra? Recalling the gist of the sentences before, she started going on about items that could enhance the user’s body. Right, just some cultivation pills style stuff, but it was on track for this questline.

“Those do sound interesting, but I’ve never seen such things. Surely there would be drawbacks to such a quick increase in power. It’s better to rely on the self to build a stable foundation.”

“You really don't know of them? Surely in your travels you've heard of beast cores before. Wherever they pass, waves appear. Disciples are always struggling amongst themselves to get them. Word is that used properly they can take one straight to the combat abilities of a second rank cleric from nothing.”

Lady, no matter how much you build this up, I'm not suddenly going to know where the blasted thing is. You all want this thingamajig, but I don't have it.

“Well were I to chance upon one, I would gift it to the church. Personally I have no interest in such things.”

“A member of the Church would definitely pay handsomely for such an item. Is t gifting it away a waste?”

“I'm sure a monster core would just be another stone in my hand. There’s no need to hang on to it just for money.”

“I see, you don't particularly care about wealth do you?”

“As long as I can eat, I will survive.”

Tyra let out a long breath and looked at me. Only three days and the Poran were already getting quite irksome. Mainly because they were bleeding the town dry, but I would be more comfortable going out on a multi day hunt were they to go away. Unable to discern her look, I let her continue to stare. At this point, if they weren't going to just bring up the matter, I wouldn't say anything.

“In that case, seeing as you are not interested, I will let you be.” She abruptly departed, wearing a strange face. It seemed that in tiring of the discussion, I'd tripped her up somewhere. Well, that's what the Poran got for sending in a novice.

Still not very tired that night, I merely sat restfully, attempting to recall the numbers and formulas that governed Underworld of Armok.

So time once again slipped by, and before dawn I headed to the Stones of Assembly. Deciding on sitting down, I picked a spot close to where the trio would stand. After almost an hour passed, Ralph took a nearby stone for his own.

“You're a bit crazy.” He sounded very thoughtful as he said that, like scholars through the ages would copy it down.

“Only a bit, right?”

“No, you're really crazy.” Ralph amended his statement, still acting very serious. “It's good crazy though. I just don't get why.”

“Well if you understood, I wouldn't be crazy then.”

“That’s right! You're just crazy!” Ralph laughed, solving some sort of puzzle only he knew about. Smiling and no longer somber, his rough laugh started to wake up the rest of the village. “That's right, of course we'd be helped out by a crazy. Glad you're crazy, Alric.”

“Haha, sure thing. Can't really be anything else.” Who knew what that fisherman found so amusing, but I guess I was a bit crazy. It had been about 40 days since I found myself in this world, and I'd spent it devoted to helping out the first village I passed. There were reasons, but for most people they certainly weren't sufficient. Maybe what I wanted was a bit crazy.

‘As long as you want it, it doesn't matter how irrational it is.’

Never really thought about how much I lived by those words before. Considering how long history is, it was inevitable that at least one quote would fit me; so it was more sifting through to find the matches than a true bond with the idea behind it though.

As Ralph found himself amused with my craziness, others filtered in. Chatting with a few others, I dropped hints to get the little ones and the more uneasy to look away. Dropping huge amounts of hitpoints from a single limb was a difficult task. Normally after a certain threshold the part would just cease to function, and other than complete removal there would be no further effects. Shenanigans needed to be pulled to turn that damage into blood all from one arm.

The blade was sharp, but I still planned on keeping my secrets.

Enjoyable chatter slowed and died when the three came before us. Tomas’ eyes possessed a hard glint not in them before. They were executing their move, at last. Only one hour a day on this quest, moving on would be warmly welcomed. All went as usual during the service however.

Tomas drolly spoke about Tias himself getting in a fight with a demon lord, which actually wasn't half bad. Speaking about half again as fast as usual, even without good inflection, it was vastly more entertaining than the previous day. Harold spoke on conflict between people(foreshadowing much?), but opposite of Tomas, his speaking abilities diminished. They really were too much on edge, did they think that a foreigner wouldn't be able to detect changes in their speech?

That wasn't a half bad hypothesis; since they grew up thousands of miles from a second language, they might have overestimated the difficulty of becoming fluent. Or maybe I just surpassed all their expectations, hehe.

No, they probably just weren't as on guard as they should have been.

Reaching the final stage, Melissa moved forward, looking a bit pale; the most zealous of the villagers, she probably donated far more than good for her health. I didn't like her much, but decided to mix her up a potion at some point. At the very least she provided some amusement to Rion and the gang, even if they were being sadistic brats about it. Kids will be kids.

Corsair remained behind with the main pack of villagers this time. I'd been informed later that the three frequently continued preaching after noon, and Corsair realized something was wrong from the miniature sermons. Not that he acted on it, but no longer did he step forward, a willing lamb to the slaughter.

There was hesitation, but the ritual was still inevitable. Those who managed to escape one of the other days lined up in silence. Trading places, I subtly cut towards the front of the line. My own delay was because no matter how I cut it, the hitpoints I had were not sufficient to provide three liters of blood. About six villagers went, before I stepped in front of the sacrificial basin.

I took the ceremonial dagger, not yet laying it against the skin. Run over the best course in the mind, feel the weight of the dagger in the hand. Concentrate on feeling how much health remains, and angle the arm so all the blood is caught in the bowl. Taking two deep breaths, I closed and opened my eyes, letting out a cough. Looking back through the crowd, only one in four heads turned away, but it seemed the children were sufficiently far back as to be out of sight. I learned the lesson the first time, but they couldn't exactly be forced to look away could they.

I locked eyes with both Tyra and Harold for a moment each before beginning.

Up, to the side, curve, up, around the elbow, rotate the wrist—with such a sharp edge, it went so much more easily than practice with my own dagger. My time processing plants with Theodore improved my dexterity manyfold, and flesh also wasn't so easily cut. Avoiding arteries, only slightly tearing at muscles, the blade danced up and down. A bloody space-filling curve that avoided several seemingly random spots quickly changed from a coiled line to a flat plane.

Removing the knife, my downward facing fingers dripped like a tap. Inhaling, I'd gone slightly too fast, causing some Stamina decrease from massive damage. I guess I just had a bit of stage fright.

My body released blood in three phases from what I could tell, initial injury, secondary bleeding, and for truly severe wounds an intermittent stage. My spigot started strongly at first from initial injury, but the second phase provided a quarter of what I bled, so an approximate two minutes were needed. Considering the amount still flowing from my arm at the moment, the three weren't exactly in a position to move on to the next in line.

About 15 mL for each hitpoint, and I expended 90%, just above the penalty zone. Having reached Level 3 and enjoying some additional hitpoints, I put out around two liters of blood by the time it was done. Towards the end, the drops fell more slowly, but it was like one of those old syrup dispensers, you aren't getting a lot more syrup, but if you move you end up being that jerk who gets it absolutely everywhere. It just happened to be blood.

Shaking my arm to knock the last few drops off, I turned around. Everyone was watching. Didn't I tell them to look away? Being the third time, the shock and awe factor diminished significantly, and they still all stood frozen. I guess 20% to 90% was a pretty big jump in the amount of blood produced. At least no one fainted from the sight; before the my arm was a hemophobic’s nightmare.

Tomas didn't stop glaring as they beat a retreat as they had in the days passed. They were probably waiting near the forest to spring their plot, even if they weren't the most low key spies, surely they weren't idiots. Not wanting to engage them in my terrible condition, I decided to wait among the villagers for a bit.

“Crazy Alric, how can you even deny it when you were planning on doing something like that?” Ralph muttered, keeping his eyes off my arm. In fact, the vast majority were trying to look away, only to be drawn in by it.

Enjoy the mangled sight while you can Marquis, it’ll be all better soon.

Drawn by horrid fascination, and averting their eyes talk started up. The center of attention shifted to me and I bashfully scratched at my cheek. Heroics are fine to take the spotlight with, but this should have only counted as a small favor. It wasn't like I made a big sacrifice or anything, so getting attention for it felt wrong. Though unintentional, in being blown out of proportion it seemed to be a rather deep deceit.

Heroes are rewarded for overcoming tribulations in an equal magnitude. To gain so much gratitude for so little wasn't heroic at all. Not that I seemed to be able to slip out of the spotlight, not before Pan stepped in.

“Thank you for stepping forward these days. After talking with Corsair, I think your assessment from a few days ago was correct.” Pan spoke below the din, but close enough I could still make out what he was saying. “Today appeared different. Are you going to deal with the matter?”

“Yeah, I'll make sure nothing comes back to the village either. Don't worry about a thing.” So Pan hadn't been sitting on his hands, but consulting with others over the matter. A top tier administrator, doing his job so well you hardly notice his presence. This was my problem to take care of in the end.

“Good luck.” Pan moved to make a hole in the crowd, and I knocked back a healing potion before moving towards the forest once again.

A/N:AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

okay, I'm on like Ch. 67. You guys are lagging behind, and this is a bit slow anyhow. Have another.

Also I'm thinking of doing a forum role play game thing. It would center on a magic academy in Braan; depending on the results it may or may not end up canon but BE WARNED, there will probably be minor spoilers about how magic works.