AN: Hello random people of the Blackthorne fandom. In this chapter we have a return of the Scott some of you have been desperately hope to see for a long time now. Although, in-story there has been only a little over a week since they were killed after the naked apron party, things have been derailed by the insertion of the actual plot of the story. (Yes, hot girls loving up on a guy who doesn't want to deal with people and emotions counts as part of the plot. It's an absurdly important aspect of it, but it won't be apparent till later.)

Anyway, some actions may be a bit shocking since it is easy to forget amid all the cuddles and attempts to push away cute girls, but our MC is a bit of an angry jaded asshat. So, rejoice. Angry Scott returns.

The real reason for this lengthy author's note is also to introduce the special bonus section at the end. Some people have asked me about the final version of Blackthorne that I am working on. So, I include the 90% finished, remastered version of chapter one in its entirety after this update ends. deepening the descriptions roughly doubled the overall story content, so it's a bit lengthy. Bored souls might want to try to re-read the rough draft version of the first chapter again in order to see the differences.

Chapter 36.3: The Hope of Darkness + A bonus remaster of Chapter 1

The base had come along quite nicely in the few days since the Blackthorne faction had started to make its version of a power move. Trade negotiations settled into something approaching a standard routine. The looting of Archers had continued unabated, though it was obvious that at least one group of people had tried to get inside to get at all of the sweet, sweet loot.

Throughout the city, the survivors began to hear the sweet call of darkness. Street by street did the missionaries of the Blackthorne faction search. The number of people who seemed like decent candidates for survival in the harsh new world grew exponentially.

In point of fact, the number of people excited by the prospect of living in a larger community that was relatively safe was almost too much for the lord of darkness to content with at the moment. Out of desire to help the situation and desperation for a way to make certain everyone was housed, a secret was revealed.

"You're really serious?" said Eric. He had known that they could transport things from Shara's house to the base, but did not know that they had connected the transfer nodes to the dream world!

Dozens of other voices cried out for more information. Scott and his key personnel stood on the second floor terrace of one of the fancier apartment buildings. "Yes, anyone who wants to do so can immigrate to the dream world. If you choose to, you can even stay and work at the Black Dragon Keep castle town."

"How does that work? What happens when we fall asleep?" called out Kenna's father.

"Your position in the dream world shifts to your current location. If you are there in your Earth body, you actually go to sleep like you normally would. You can even dream again normally." said Scott. "Basically, you live there full-time."

Shara had been able to explain things fully to the group after she had explained who and what she was. When someone from Earth went to the dream world a second body was created. If they went there while awake, they went in their normal body. However, if they fell asleep there the normal body was held in system memory and the dream body took its place.

Should the dream body fall asleep while the Earth body was in system memory, it would default to a standard dream state where normal dreams occurred. They did not get punted back to Earth. If the dream body went to Earth it would automatically be swapped out in transit so that the Earth body is brought out of system memory and the dream body is stored in memory for later. Eventually, the dream body and the Earth body would be merged since the dream world had been used as a stop-gap measure to prepare the people of Earth for the coming changes to the world. At that point they would not be able to return to the dream world at all except through nodes. Even those would be highly restricted and require extensive upkeep costs at that point.

"We couldn't come back?" asked a woman Scott did not know.

"Eventually we'll set up a two-way transport system but right now we have limited personnel who can usher people back and forth, and a lot of people who need housing. So, we're only taking people who want to stay there at least a year." said Scott.

The announcement escalated into a lot of curious gossip at that point. People asked questions and Scott did his best to answer them.

There were tens of thousands of people alive in the city. Most were too terrified to leave their homes, but even the small percentage who chose to join up with Scott and crew after hearing about a protected area that had a large population numbered well over a thousand. At the rate the numbers were climbing, it would become increasingly difficult to feed and house everyone if they stayed on Earth.

The people who came brought their own supplies and weapons, but even so they would not last a month. Scott had hit upon the mass migration plan after he had spent a bit of time hunting alone in dragon form. The dream world would allow them to amass food and supplies four times faster than Earth. Since the area was more settled with enclaves of humanity all within one day's walk for a simple peasant, it was safer and more capable of produced food and craft items.

Those who went to the dream world and stayed in town would be set up as crafters, hunters, and scavengers. They would be able to train their skills while helping to produce the food necessary for them to survive as well as a surplus that would help people who still lived on Earth.

"What about housing?" asked a young man with freckles and bright red hair. Scott nodded to him then glanced to his Minister of Finance.

Ashton stepped up and began to speak. "If a group is less than four in number they get smaller houses or they will stay at one of the inns. Families of four or greater, and larger groups get larger buildings. If single people want to live together in a communal style they can get a larger house."

"Is it really safe there?" asked a woman who was obviously pregnant.

"Stay in town and you won't have to worry about monsters. We do need to train more security personnel to make sure we won't have any non-monster trouble, but it is fairly safe there. Definitely safer than Earth right now." said Sonja, the Minister of War.

Ashton spoke up, "The city needs to be rebuilt a little since it fell to ruins a while back, but most of the buildings are intact. We can use the system to pay and have buildings repaired within a few days. A few have already been repaired for the purpose of temporary housing for the first pioneers who go to the dream world."

Scott spoke up before anyone could question their plan. "No one has to go, but we will soon get to the point here where we cannot take in more people. Those who do go will have a bit more safety, and will be given the chance to help support those other survivors who stay here through their hard work."

Kenna's father spoke up. "Can you take a few of us over so we can see this for ourselves before people start deciding?"

"Absolutely. We'll only take a few over though, and only people who would be interested in staying there anyway. If someone is not sincerely interested then taking them is a waste of time." said Scott.

He glanced to Shara, who had anticipated this request might happen. She spoke up. "We'll take up to twenty people right now. You can stay if you go now, but some of you will need to return to tell the others what you saw."

Many people began to grumble. It sounded too good to be true, and it was hard to trust in the situation. Still, twenty people were rounded up.

Before they left for the other world Scott addressed the crowd once more. "Life has become a difficult thing. No matter whether you choose to stay here or to immigrate to the dream world, remember that it is a brave choice. Think on what you really want to do, while these twenty people learn about the place some of you will travel to shortly."

Scott stepped back while the crowd murmured. There were so many people here that it was difficult to see the ground in some places. They all had housing of a sort right now, but they were almost at their housing limit.

He could upgrade both this place at the castle town over time, but it was vital that both places had people living and working in them. Issues such as food and sanitation would become more difficult over time unless they were handled now, if nothing else. Working people contributed. Refugees without an outlet for their useful abilities could only consume.

One person, an older man, called out, "Why are you doing all this for us? You don't look like an aid worker."

Scott had to admit that his black armor and glowing red eyes were somewhat intimidating and did not exactly scream the concept that he was there to help. "I'm not. I'm growing my faction so that some of the bullshit in this world can be dealt with while decent people actually get to live and adjust. Those who go to the other world and choose to stay in my castle town will sign contracts and become official faction members. They will be given certain perks that others will not because they will have chosen to officially become my people."

"What kind of perks?" called out another man.

"That's for my faction members to know. I'm granting you people food, shelter, and a chance at something approaching a decent life. However, my faction's business beyond that is its own."

Kenna's father spoke up again. "You won't tell us anything about it?"

Scott rubbed his chin. "OK, it's basically like this. The people who sign up under me will have a lot more responsibility. They will have to follow my orders and the orders of those appointed over them in order for the faction to survive."

"You sound like you plan to take over or something." shouted another woman near the back.

"We are basically nation-building, because the current one won't be coming back. At this point you can either join with us and have a decent chance at building a new life for yourselves, or get swallowed up by one of the other groups out there."

"What groups? Except for the sheriff I don't remember seeing anyone else calling for people." called another man.

Scott tried to look at him in the crowd, but there were far too many people. "Well, how long do you think it will be before the looting assholes out there who steal your cars and invade your houses fall in line under whoever proves strongest?"

The crowd grew quiet for a moment. The truth was obvious. The home invasions were growing by the day as it was. That more than the monster attacks was the reason why many people had fled to this community for safety.

"I can't promise you'll be safe forever, but do you really want to sit around and wait to be robbed or murdered in your own house?" he said before taking a breath. "Those who join my faction will either need to prove useful in production or in a few other fields, but we will also need fighters. We will need people willing to become strong enough to protect not only themselves but everyone else."

"Why do we need you? We could just keep this place." said one guy in a snotty tone of voice.

"No you couldn't, and I won't even bat an eyelash when I kill you for trying it. This place is mine, and belongs to my faction." said Scott with a surprisingly cold attitude.

Snotty guy shoved his way through the dumbstruck crowd. "Really? There's what... four of you? There's hundreds, maybe over a thousand people here. You think you can take us all."

Scott glanced down at him then granted him a cruel and disturbing smile. "You seem pretty sure of yourself. Why would those people help you when you haven't done one damn thing for them?"

The guy laughed. "Say what you want." Eight more men moved out of the crowd and joined snotty guy. They stood near him like they knew him, and probably did. "We aren't gonna follow some asshole who think's he's gonna be king of America."

"Anyone who does not like the idea of me in charge can feel free to leave at any time. I won't authorize trade with you, or give a damn if you die horribly out in the world, but you have the right to leave any time."

The nine men glanced at each other for a moment then laughed. Snotty guy spoke up. "You don't get it. My boy here read your level. You're just some weak level eight bastard."

Scott glanced at him. "Yes, and? Look, do we really need to do this? I get it. You're hardcore or whatever." He was surprised that no one had tried this sooner, but he could have done with it not happening at all.

"You laughin'? I bet you ain't all that. Everyone thinks you're strong because of that bullshit about only having one-fifth of our levels from the dream. But, I can guess what's really going on."

"Oh? Do tell?" asked Scott without a hint of concern.

"My boy here, see he's level thirteen." Snotty guy pointed at his boy, a man in a hoodie that had his face covered.

"See, he's a goblin. So, we know that if you have a different race, your levels carry over from the dream."

Scott grinned at him. "Caught me did you?"

"Yeah, so you can just squash that noise about you being king. We'll be taking over here."

"Or... You'll hurt me?" asked Scott in an almost sing-song voice. After having to deal with nation-planning and the emotional roller coaster of later, he almost desperately needed a couple of ordinary idiots in his life. A level thirteen goblin with no dream world equipment in sight did not impress him at all. He'd already soloed a level twenty boss monster. His ability to sense vitality showed nothing special from the direction of the idiots challenging him anyway.

Sonja glanced at Scott, a small amused smile rose up on her lips. "Do you even want to bother with something as pathetic as a level thirteen goblin?"

"Pathetic? Bitch, my boy could..!"

"Die horribly if you call me bitch again? The day some little low-level mud-daubbing green-skinned cave rat is a match for a Valkyrie will be the day the stars burn out." snarked Sonja.

"Personal grudge?" asked Scott. Sonja never spoke like this, it was kind of interesting to see her get worked up.

"No, it's just that he reminded me of my hopes and dreams." remarked the girl.

"A goblin did that?" asked Scott.

"Of course. At my age I could have already had a little girl who was old enough to slaughter this guy and his entire goblin clan."

Snotty guy shouted and pulled out a gun. "Look, this shit is over!"

Scott snapped his head around to look at the man. He was no longer amused. "I was willing to let this stupidity go, but unlike me most of the people here can be hurt pretty badly by a gun." He immediately began to murmur something in a low tone of voice while glaring at the man with the gun.

"Not so tough now, are you?" sniggered the man. He kept sniggering right up until the moment that a bright flash of light appeared across his arm.

Shara appeared near the crowd at the edge of the event, her body in a pose that showed that she had just finished an attack. Snotty guy's hand and the gun it wield well from the perfectly cleaved ruination of his arm. Blood spurted wildly and people began to scream. Strangely, they screamed before snotty guy did. His brain had not caught up with what had happened.

The goblin boy who had no name immediately snarled and started to turn toward Shara, but he never stood a chance. Scott finished the incantation that he had been murmuring at that exact moment. "Shadow Flare!"

A blazing ball of shadow-fire and lightning raced across the area and slammed into the supposed badass with incredible force. The goblin screeched in agony as the power of a black dragon's flame overwhelmed him with little effort. Level thirteen he might be, but goblins were little different than ordinary human beings. Scott's power, while still in its infancy was well beyond what most people could bring to a fight in this world.

The goblin fell back and feebly clawed at the ground for a moment before going terribly still. Everyone close enough to see what happened gaped open mouthed at the scene. Snotty guy fell to his knees as the blood loss had nearly reached critical levels. "H-how..." he sobbed out between agonized moans.

Scott glanced at him then looked to the other six men. "Strip naked and walk out of here. Keep walking till you're at least one town over, or be killed right now."

One of the men balked a little, but Scott's eyes took on a disturbingly bright red glow. "Did I fucking stutter? You're lucky you get that little bit of mercy when you stand with garbage like this."

"We'll die out there without weapons!" exclaimed one of the men.

"Sounds like you got a problem then." Scott snorted at them then pointed to his gate. "I want to see some fucking naked asses walking toward my gate in the next few seconds or I'll come down there and throw your corpses over the wall." said Scott. He had no patience for people like this. While he had weird issues with his step-father that he could not figure out, he had not hesitated to kill those guys who had invaded his house a while back. Something about other people being in danger aggravated him in recent days. He guessed at the reason, and it was a pain in the ass, but it was a decent tradeoff.

One of the guys started stripping and the others followed. Afterward he started towards the corpse of the goblin, but Scott told him to hit the bricks then said. "I don't like to take someone's life, and you fuck nuggets made my group do it twice in one day. That overcooked bastard, and the asshat over there aren't going anywhere."

"What are you going to do with them?" asked Sonja after the six guys left.

Scott glanced at the two dead bodies on the ground. The snotty guy had finally died. "I'm giving them to Sheriff Ansen. He started his faction, and has an actual jail cell. Let these fuckers respawn in prison if they have a token."

Shara reappeared on the terrace. "Why did you let those guys go? They could come back."

"They didn't really do anything other than nod their heads and try to look like hardasses. Unlike fuck nugget and goblin fuck nugget over there, I don't really see a point in them clogging Ansen's jail. Let them die in the wilderness and respawn if they have a token."

"So forgiving." mumbled Sonja.

Scott shrugged. "Who knows what their deal was. Maybe they were all best friends, or maybe they were just scared people who hooked up with someone stronger than them. They didn't do anything directly."

The gathered crowd milled about nervously after what had just happened. Scott thought it would be best to address them. "You all saw what just happened here. I'll tell you again. Anyone can leave any time they like. You start trouble and you'll be thrown out. Threaten the lives of people here and I will kill you. I can't offer you safety if I won't actually try to provide it."

The crowd grew silent for a moment as those words sank in. Scott continued. "I don't own you, but this is my home. Unless you join my faction you are only guests here. If you're the kind of person who threatens to kill the owner of the house in order to take his house then I ask you to leave now. It won't go well for you."

Various people in the crowd began to talk, and a few shouted. No one made an effort to leave. Some were happy to stay. Many others were too terrified to leave, and not because of what was outside the community gates.

### End Chapter 36###

Below this point lies the 90% remaster of chapter 1, entitled Blackthorne Begins. I include it for those who wish to see a more descriptive and complex version of Blackthorne. Though, at times it might come off a bit like someone got R.A. Salvatore falling down drunk, and then bitchslapped him into writing this. (In short, I need to do some more tweaking and typo cleaning)

Chapter 1: Blackthorne Begins

Grass, a common sight in most places, but something glorious in this strange land. The endless grassland stretched out well into the horizon beyond. As he watched the gentle swaying of that dream-like vista, he listened to the music that played in the background. It was a jubilant, ephemeral sound heard with perfect crystalline clarity.

It was almost a sin to speak in this place, but then he had long since given up caring about a concept as useless as sin. “So, this is the dream world, huh?”

A portly young man of twenty-two years, Scott Logan had the sallow complexion and scraggly beard of a perennial shut-in. His was the appearance of a man who had largely given up on life, and that appearance matched his temperament.

In his young life he had dealt with myriad difficulties and personal horrors that most people would never have to experience in any form. Tired of the world and everything in it, he had nearly given up his last shred of hope that anything good could come from such a pointless thing as life on Earth.

Things had changed three days prior, when for the first time he had become truly excited by something other than a new video game to steal his time away. As ridiculous as it might sound, the entire world had fallen asleep at the same time.

The global phenomenon known as the First Dream occurred without warning. No matter where they were, or what they were doing, everyone had fallen asleep. Hours had passed while the world slumbered on. Planes fell from the sky. Cars ran off of the road. Fires that sprang up continued to burn unabated, and surgeons fell asleep atop their patients in the operating room. Tens of millions of people died that first day.

Scott Logan did not much care about that. The world had done him no favors, and if anything its existence did nothing but steal from his quiet life as a suburban hermit.

During those difficult hours for humanity, the modern zeitgeist was changed in its entirety. The spirit of the 2020s would no longer be that of a world on the verge of incredibly scientific breakthroughs in computer and space technology. Slightly over three days after the dream had begun, the world had already started a grand shift in the expectations of the future.

The First Dream had been a time of discovery for the human race. They had been compelled to change themselves, to become more than what they had been before. In fact, they had been made to recreate themselves anew. Levels, stats, skills and spells; these were the rule of law in the dream world. For you see, this dream operated exactly like a role playing game. It could be said that the entire thing was itself, a full-immersion game system that everyone logged into upon falling asleep.

Three days had passed since the event that would change humanity forever. No one knew the reason why it happened. No one knew how it was even possible. Yet, it was the truth. When someone went to sleep, they would enter into an alternate reality that was both fantastic and impossible.

Now that Scott had finally joined the rest of his fellow humans in this dream world, he was ready to begin making an attempt to live the life that he had always wanted. His greatest personal desire was to be free of it all. He wanted to be beholden to neither the rule of law, nor the constant chattering of the inane and insipid people outside of his door.

He began to check his equipment. This world was like a game, and like a game he had been gifted with starter equipment. Scott tapped his iron cuirass then unsheathed his copper sword. He placed his weapon back into its sheathe then considered the situation for a moment.

During the First Dream he had opted to choose skills that he was certain would allow him to become completely self-sufficient over time. He had chosen mostly magical and combat skills, but also a few interesting production skills.

Upon acquiring those new skills he had acquired the knowledge of how they were used. It was as though the information had been directly downloaded into his brain. He only knew the most basic concepts and capabilities of his skills, but he would be able to learn more in time.

Skills and spells, the most important aspect of his new dream life, he needed to check them in order to see if they still worked as he remembered. Scott raised his right hand then began to speak in a measured and confident tone.

~ Anger of the disquiet soul, become my weapon and strike down my enemy.~

“Jolt!” cried the man.

The crackling sound of static electricity could be heard from his hands just before tiny bolts of black lightning arced visibly from the space just beyond the tips of his fingers. He immediately felt the strength begin to leave his body after the spell was unleashed. His vitality had been drained to power his magic.

He shook his head for a moment as he made an attempt to fight back the wave of weakness that threatened to overwhelm him. “I wonder if everyone has the same problem?” he asked after a moment.

As soon as the words were ushered into the empty air, his eyebrows pressed together and he made an annoyed sound. He did not give a damn how hard other people had it. They certainly did not give a damn about his problems, that much had been made clear over the course of the last ten years.

His dislike for the mass of useless flesh that was humanity, had led him to hold out on sleep. Once he had discovered that the dream was not just something that he had experienced, but something that all people had experienced, he knew that he needed to prepare. The bizarre miracle that was the First Dream afforded him the one thing he had wanted most, a chance to get out. He could live life by his own rules.

During the last three days, the Internet had been alive with people posting information about the dream world. A great deal of the information that he had located proved to be inconsistent. However, all of the information that he had read on the subject seemed to be in agreeance on two topics. The dream felt perfectly real, and time seemed to pass at a different rate of speed within the dream while the dreamer dreamed. Much like a dream in the past might feel like minutes or even hours had passed, life in the dream world seemed to flow at a different rate that in the waking world.

Beyond those two universally agreed upon topics, no one knew much about the world behind their eyelids. It seemed that everyone shared the same dream world, but also started out in different locations. There was some consideration made regarding the possibility that the psyche of the dreamer determined where their dream life began. That possibility was considered conjecture at best currently, but it was something that many believed to be true.

“I’m a little behind, but I can’t help that.” After awakening from the first dream, Scott had stayed awake for just over three days. At first, he had simply remained awake because he had not been tired. Once he had learned that the dream was real and that everyone had undergone a similar experience, he had forcibly remained awake to learn as much as possible before returning to that realm.

The end result was that he had put off his personal exploration for quite a while compared to others. Yet, he did not mind that in the slightest. He had also learned of a few of the pitfalls of the dream world that might avoid.

Curious and calculating eyes scanned the area, but they saw only endless grassland. While he had learned of some of the dangers of the dream world, he had not gained much information regarding its topography. It was disconcerting. Where should he go? What should he do first? There was no handy map screen to use in the manner of a true game.

A moment of his precious dream time was spent in quiet contemplation. In the end, he made the only logical choice. “One direction is as good as another, I suppose.” He decided to walk forward. If nothing else, moving forward meant that he was going somewhere.

The humming drone of insects combined with the blistering heat of day to cause him no end of difficulty. Those difficulties further merged with the all-consuming visual of the unending grass in a dedicated effort to drain his reserves. After a while, his every step became an exercise in stubbornness. He had to move forward or he would never leave the grassland, moving forward was the only way to live his new life.

A shuffling sound broke the monotony of his travels. Intrigued by the change, Scott turned his head toward the sound. The noise had been generated by the motion of the grass. It had begun to sway and shake in a way that suggested that a small animal currently made an attempt to pass through it with only a modicum of stealth.

Nerves on edge, he whipped out his sword and took up a basic fighting stance. One foot to the fore, the other back and turned lightly to the side. He brandished his shiny red-pink blade at the grass briefly then held it before him in a double-handed grip. Suddenly, the ephemeral background music changed to an eighties style synth-guitar track.

“What the...?” he asked in surprise. He approved of the thematic change, but it had certainly been unexpected. The grass parted and a tiny bulbous creature emerged. Above its head a name and a level were shown clearly.

[Screaming Onion—Level 1]

The tiny creature looked exactly like an onion save for the fact that its roots had grown in the shape of little feet. The orange skinned creature hopped on one root foot and then the other. The sword-wielding man stared at it for a moment. What was with the ridiculous little thing?

Scott tilted his head to the side and considered what he should do. Was it dangerous? It was an onion! His internal monologue was answer when the onion bulb's front half split open and it screamed out, “Cry for me!”

The dreamer staggered back quickly as a strange power overcame him. He felt a wave of weakness overtake him, and he began to weep openly. His vision became blurred, and he became keenly aware of the fact that he could not see clearly enough to attack the annoying little overly mobile food source.

The onion screamed once again. It was a piercing cry similar to a tantrum that a smile child might throw if they were denied something they desperately wanted. The annoying little beast hurled its tiny body upward toward him with great force, and impacted powerfully against his armor. Scott was knocked back several steps, but he managed to maintain his footing.

Scott's reddish-pink blade lashed out wildly several times in rapid succession. Most of his desperate attacks missed their intended target, but the final strike managed to catch the little screaming bastard and left a shallow cut.

Despite the shallow nature of the cut, the orange skin of the screaming beast was torn free. The sweet white innards were revealed. The onion cried out in pain as its juices ran freely from its shallow wound. By way of some wild onion instinct, the creature hurled itself forward desperately. This time it managed to knock Scott to the ground.

The downed fighter flailed around on the ground briefly while he tried to right himself. Thanks to his wild flailing motions, he was able to keep the beast at bay for a time. It was long enough for him to crawl back to his hands and knees. His sword lashed out again while remaining on all fours. He refused to be killed by a damned hamburger accessory!

Desperate in its motions, but accurate in its direction, Scott's strike tore deeply into the tiny little onion. The wee beast unleashed a final blood-curdling scream then fell to the ground. Its sweet, yet pungent and spicy, life fluids dribbled freely from its terrible wounds. Tearful eyes became even more so as the gaseous vapors of the deceased onion caused an even more potent tear-inducing effect.

“Seriously? Damn this vegetable...” Onions were vegetables, right? He was pretty sure they were both a bulbous root and a vegetable. Did it matter? Either way, the Screaming Onion had its own peculiar and thoroughly annoying defense mechanism.

Several minutes passed as he wept. The biological mechanism was both a powerful attack and a potent defense. He was lucky that the screaming bastard had been alone. If it had been part of a pack, he would have been in serious trouble. Time passed and the effect eventually wore off. Not long after that, he was able to see clearly once more. “Man that sucked.”

The mighty onion slayer looked to his fallen prey. Somehow, the little thing was neatly bisected. It made no sense. His attacks could not have had that level of accuracy. After a moment of confused reflection, he chose to ignore the discrepancy and searched the corpse.

“What’s this?” He found a tiny chunk of pale green material. “Some sort of gemstone?”

It was a small green rock about the size of his pinky fingernail. A bright green stone, it shimmered softly in the light and drew the eye. Scott gazed upon his find with curious and critical eyes. Was it money? Was it some sort of gemstone? He momentarily wondered if it was the onion's feces. While he pondered the possibilities, the music that played in the background returned to the grassland traveling tune from before the battle.

Scott picked the onion's remains up by its little root feet then nearly dropped it when several tidbits of information appeared next to it in the air.

[ Item ]

Food Ingredient: Screaming Onion

Class: 1

Grade: low-quality

Nutrition Value:[/b] 1

Value: 1 Jerin

[--]

“Food ingredient? Someone would eat this thing?” Well, it was an onion. He had never eaten anything that was capable of speech before, but he saw no reason to waste food. He opened the bag tied at his waist then placed the onion pieces and the little green stone inside. “I’ll hold onto them for a while.”

Onion firmly secured inside his bag, he considered what to do next. A thought occurred to him. He slowly and deliberately blinked his eyes in order to clear the last of the tears away, and then chose to check his status. He needed to know how much damage he had taken.

[ Status ]

Name: Blackthorne

Level: 1 | Skill Points: 0

Vitality: [6|12]

Weapon Attack: [3|3]

Durability: [5|5]

Speed: [5|5]

Spirit: [13|13]

[--]

“Half vitality already. Jolt took three points, so that little bastard robbed me of three vitality points.” said Scott.

The name Blackthorne that appeared on his status information was one that he had often enjoyed using when playing as a mage type character in his beloved role playing games. It seemed fitting since he had chosen for his talent to be magic, and had also chosen to take the dream world equivalent of the dark mage route.

The dream world seemed to have no classes to choose from like most games, despite the fact that people had access to a status window. He had stats, skills, and spells annotated. Yet, the interface seemed minimal in nature. He could see the level and name of a creature such as the onion if he focused upon it for a few seconds. But other than the name and status screens he did not see other windows popping up like they would in a real game.

He eyed his information for a moment. “I wonder what it will take to gain a level.” There were a lot of unanswered questions. The first dream had operated on something like a tutorial basis for everyone, but the information that had been provided had been minimal. It was similar to the game-like status interface in this world in that regard. He knew how to view his status and how to activate his spell. Other than that, he really did not know much about the place.

The fact that he was half-dead already was disconcerting. What could he do, though? It took a moment for him to realize that he did have one option. He took out a piece of the screaming onion and stared at it once more. “Should I...?”

He tore the orange skin of the bisected beast away then took an experimental bite. He cringed and nearly spit it out, but he managed to swallow the thing down. “Yeah, it’s an onion alright.”

The onion had a strong taste and a pungent aroma. He had never tasted an onion that was this spicy, yet robust in its Earthy flavor before.

Curious, he checked his stats. Nothing had changed. He was forced to eat more of his recent kill in order to try and keep his energy up. Scott ended up eating the entire onion before he noticed an actual effect.

“My vitality increased by one point... So, it was true. Eating food was the cheapest way to regain vitality.” said Scott.

One thing he knew about this world. There was no innate vitality regeneration. Only eating something, drinking tonics, or awakening from the dream world and spending eight hours in the real world would completely restore his vitality. Certain magical abilities would help with regeneration, as well, but his access to those abilities would be limited. He was a dark mage after all.

He rubbed his chin for a moment then sheathed his sword. It was time to get going.

Scott walked forward once more. He had no way of knowing whether he would find civilization, but he knew that it existed. Some people had been lucky enough to arrive near a town as their initial location.

Time passed as he walked. Onions began to appear more frequently. Unlike before, however, he attacked them immediately. They rarely had the chance to scream before he finished them. Scott had slain over a dozen of them before he found something that made his eyes widen with joy.

Eyes wide, and a slight smile upon his lips, Scott ran toward the road that rose up before him. The appearance of that road meant that civilization could now be reached. It would not matter which direction he traveled. Eventually, he would find something as long as he followed the roadway that was neatly laid out before him.

“Hmm, a smooth stone road.” It was not a dirt path, and it was reasonably well maintained. That meant that it would be used frequently. A possibility existed that the dream world operated on a methodology that was absolutely foreign to the waking world. Yet, he chose to disregard that fact. On Earth at least, no one would maintain a road at this level if people rarely used it.

Excited at the prospects before him, Scott stepped out onto the road then promptly looked both ways. Neither direction offered any obvious reason to choose it. In the end, he chose to turn to the right. It was as good of a direction as any since he had no idea where he was.

As the day often did, it wore on. The long and lonesome road that Scott walked upon afforded him only the comfort of direction. The sights and sounds presented to him were little different than from the time that he had spent on the grassland. The background music had changed to a more upbeat ditty suitable for a road trip, but it was only interesting for the first few cycles. After a while it faded into the background of his mind and only the overbearing heat remained.

Despite the well-maintained appearance of the road, no one had passed him. Neither man nor monster appeared to disrupt his peaceful journey. A thought had occurred to him not long after he had begun to travel the road. Perhaps the road was protected? If this world truly did operate like a game it might utilize the old convention of protected roadways.

Night slowly crept up on the man as he walked his solitary path. The heavens above were set ablaze by the twilight as the sun rode down the sky. Darkness, a blackness far deeper and more pervasive than any night-time period he had ever witnessed on Earth, over took the land. He was forced to slow his travel greatly as the light of the stars above did not grant much illuminations. However, that changed for the better when the moon began to rise.

Bright in its fullness, the great guardian of the landscape of the night illuminated the darkened world and cast slowly creeping shadows across the land. The background music became somber, more subdued. It lent the world a melancholy atmosphere.

Despite the cool and serene beauty of the night, more mundane issues arose to steal his thoughts away. He was tired. His body called strongly for nourishment, and his throat from parched from the heat of day and the dust that had risen up from the road on occasion. Yet, he had to keep moving. He needed a base of operations, or at least a place to get his bearings. He would find neither if he chose to stop in the middle of the journey.

The solitary moon that hung pregnant in the sky was soon joined by a surprising, interesting, partner. A second moon arose in the heavens. It had the appearance of a crescent, a boomerang slung at the heavens. It continued its climb for quite some time, and soon its silvery light caused the creeping shadows to twist, to distort into grasping claws and intricate patterns.

As the two heavenly lights warred for dominance over the shadows of the land, a new light appeared in the distance. This light was the flicker of flame, a sure sign of a far more mundane existence. Scott's eyes widened in both curiosity and a surprisingly joyful interest. He stopped himself short of running headlong toward that light. He was interested, but also cautious of this new event. Who or what would he find there?

Slowly, and with great alertness, he approached the light in the distance. He made every attempt to avoid making extraneous noise. It would be important to see them, whoever they may in fact be, before they saw him.

Once Scott had crept close upon those who had begat that intriguing light, he listened carefully. Voices, masculine and world-weary, reached his ears. He stopped his attempt at stealth and listened attentively to their conversation. It was obvious that they had not spotted him at the moment, and that would afford him the chance to determine their nature through their casual conversation.

“So, d'ye think the mine is really cursed?” asked a masculine voice. He spoke in a rough tone that sounded reminiscent of what Scott thought might be a poor attempt at an Irish brogue, or perhaps an equally poor Scottish accent. Accents were not something he had paid much attention to in his life, and it was difficult for him to properly determine just what he was hearing from the small sample that he had observed.

“That’s what they say. Either way, we are nae going in. Let the miners deal with the monsters and the curses. We’ll haul 'er freight like always.” said another man. His accent sounded similar to the first man, though there were subtle variations.

Scott’s lower lip quirked a bit. So, they were not bandits at least. Well, if they were indeed highwaymen they were polite and professional in their banditry. He moved forward while he continued to listen to their conversation. When he was close enough to do so clearly, he called out, “Hello, I hope that I am not disturbing anyone.”

The moment his voice echoed in the air, the camp became a flurry of activity. The rustle of clothes and the tell-tale sound of weapons being unsheathed reached his ears. Alert, no doubt fearful men, had become ready to meet the challenges of the road.

“Who be ye?” called one of the men. It was the first one, the one with the uncertain brogue. His voice held strength, but also a slight tremor. Even Scott could tell that the man was worried about the outcome of this meeting. At least that much about dream world people held true. They feared marauders and home invaders as much as people from Earth.

“A traveler who saw your fire. I just wanted to ask a few questions.” replied Scott. He would love to ask more than a few questions. Sitting down at their fire and eating something would be nice, for instance.

“If it's questions ye have then ask and be on yer way...” replied the man. He had an edge to his tone that spoke of uncertainty, but a subtle shift in his thought processes.

“That’s fair. Fine, how far is it to civilization on this road? Is there a town nearby?” Scott hated to sound clueless, but his need to get directions outweighed his desire to sound knowledgeable. These men really could be bandits, for all he knew. They would make out poorly if they robbed him, but they would unlikely to believe that to be the case until after he was dead and gone to hell.

“Ye jes' want to know whar the next town is?” asked the man suspiciously. His tone had shifted to mild disbelief. The sound of metal scraping metal, and the soft jingle of chains could be heard. He had shifted his body slightly and revealed a little of what he was wearing.

“Yes.” replied Scott. "I hate to sound like an idiot, but I don't know where I am."

“Right, thar’s a town up the way a bit. If ye keep moving, ye should see it by dawn.” said the man.

“Up the way? If I faced your camp would I have to turn left or right to go toward town?” The answer that the man had given was ambiguous. He had certainly not seen a town along the way here, though who knew how fast or far these people had traveled. Undoubtedly they knew where they were going and would be able to make better time because of it.

“Ye... would need to turn toward the right.” said the man. He did not sound certain of that fact at all.

“Thank you. Sorry to have disturbed you.” said Scott. If this had been a poorly scripted fantasy movie, he would have been invited in by the travelers and learned many secrets of the dream world. However, this was real life. Normal people did not tell random voices in the dark to sit and share their fire on the side of the road.

“Right, be on yer way then...” replied the voice.

“I’m off then, enjoy your evening.” Scott took the dismissal for what it was; a reminder that he was unwelcome. However, after he had walked for a few brief minutes, he could hear someone running behind him. He turned back and the running man called out, “Wait, traveler...”

“Ah, yes?” asked Scott.

The man stopped short of him and took several deep breaths before he spoke. “Sorry, about earlier. We had to be sure ye warn't a bandit.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better I had to do the same with you.” Scott made a polite nod. He was personally glad that the men had not whipped out weapons and tried to steal his onions.

The man laughed a little. It was a deep and resonant sound filled with warmth, despite the short time that it existed. “Well, that does make sense. Look, thar’s something we need to tell ye.”

“Yes?” Scott’s fingers curled slightly. He hoped that he did not have to fight these men. He knew little of this world, but just like everyone else on Earth he was forced to spend a large chunk of his time here. He did not want to lead a life that mirrored his old existence. Here a man could fight and have it count, or so he hoped.

“We lied about the town. Thar’s nothing down this way for about six day's peasant walk but a mining camp.” said the man. His voice bespoke actual regret at the way in which they had misled their undesired visitor.

“Why tell me a lie then?” Had he followed their directions he would have been placed in a considerably bad situation. His only food was the murdered corpses of his bitter onion foe. He had no water, or any other supplies to see him through nearly a week's journey.

“This is a well-traveled road, so we figured ye would turn back toward Argent or signal for yer friends if ye war lying.” The man rubbed the back of his head and looked a little ashamed. They had nearly sent a traveler off into the world without proper direction just to save their own skin.

Scott did not appreciate the lie, but he did understood their reasoning. Even if they had almost caused him great hardship, he did not have it in him to hate the men. He had enough dislike for humanity on Earth as it was. At least these men had acted reasonably. “How far away is Argent?”

“Well, it depends on how ye travel. If ye use the road, it’s about a day and a half peasant walk if ye turn back.” the man said.

“How else would I get there if not for the road?” asked Scott.

“Well, ye can cut across country. The demons near here are all weak, mostly those annoying onions and the occasional rat fiend.” said the man.

“Sounds good, but what then?” Scott did not want to be lost in the grasslands again if he could help it. Now that he had a chance at acquiring real direction in this world, he wanted to take it.

“If ye head back the way ye came ye’ll eventually see a large rock off to yer right. Ye can’t miss it, the thing looks like a pillar.”

Scott inclined his head slightly. He did not recall any large rocks on the road, so it was no doubt a good distance away from the road itself. “Right, so where do I go after the pillar?”

“Walk over to it and ye should be able to see a forest in the far distance. Walk in that direction for a few hours and ye’ll eventually see farms on yer left." He stopped speaking for a moment and seemed to consider what to say next.

He rubbed his bottom lip then nodded his head slowly. "Ye can go toward any of them and ye’ll be able to find the road into Argent. I don't think any new farms have sprung up to take ye out the way." The man looked at Scott. "Ye'll, knock half a day off yer walk if ye go that way.”

Scott nodded slightly then granted the man a brief smile. “I appreciate the help. I hate to admit it again, but I was a bit lost.”

“Ah, no problem. This part of the road has to be cleared of bandits now and then since it takes several days to travel between Argent and the next town over.” said the man. There was an obvious tone of relief evident in his voice.

“Thanks for taking the time to send me in the right direction then!” said Scott.

“Don’t mention it.” said the man. After a brief, awkward, moment the man asked, "Say, traveler, what's your name?"

Scott started to respond with his true name, but stopped. He had a name to use in this world, and it was time that he started to think of himself in that way when he was here. "Blackthorne."

"Blackthorne is it?" The man tasted the name on his lips for a moment then shook his head. "Sounds rather intimidating. Anyway, it's nice to have met ye."

Scott, rather Blackthorne, inclined his head. "It was good to meet you as well."

They walked back toward the camp together, but once they reached it, Blackthorne kept walking. His goal was not the comfort and safety of a traveler's campfire. He wanted to find that pillar before he awoke from this dream.

Several hours passed during the time that he walked that lonely midnight road. The moons had moved well toward setting by the time that he saw the previously mentioned landmark. It truly did have the appearance of a great pillar of stone. He had not noticed it before, mostly because he had been focused more on the road and a rock, no matter how impressive, was just a rock.

The stone pillar protruded from the earth in a rather obvious way. It was not huge, but it did break up the monotony of the grassland. Blackthorne jogged toward the beautiful weather beaten sight. He even unleashed one of his brief smiles upon arriving at his destination. He had completed the first task that he had set for himself in this world!

Unfortunately, it was still dark and he could not see far in the distance. He spent a few moments scanning the area despite the difficulty and eventually realized that he could possibly make out a line of trees on the horizon. He could not be certain due to the distance and the darkness, but the grassland was interrupted in that direction.

It was tempting to go toward that disruption, but he knew better than to make the attempt. He had no choice but to wait until there was more light to use for navigation.

A weary and frustrated sigh escaped his lips as he sat down near the pillar. He did not want to leave his discovered landmark until after he woke up, but he knew that he would probably be asleep a few more hours. “Most people claim that it's about four hours here for one there, so I probably have another ten hours at most.”

Blackthorne might have woken up back on Earth at any minute or it could be another few hours. There was no way to know. At least there was no way that he knew of at the moment. Though, he had heard that going to sleep here would cause you to wake up in the real world.

A few minutes passed while he rested. Boredom settled in quickly. He did not want to waste time sitting around. Maybe he should go to sleep and come back later? He was tired from his travels after all.

After he considered his options, he shook his head. “No... This would be a good time to try out my other skills.”

His path determined, Blackthorne chose to forge ahead by staying in place. He stood up then gathered a few dozen long blades of grass before he sat down once more. Fingers long used to such delicate work, wove blades of grass together in a simple but strong patter. He had done such things as a child out of boredom. He had done them again during his time in juvenile corrections as a means of working out his frustrations at a world filled with hypocritical bullshit.

Eventually, his skillful fingers deftly made a decent looking bracelet. He eyed his creation critically for a moment then set it aside and began again. The grass was lengthy enough that he was able to make several of the bracelets before he ran out of materials. He picked one up and looked at it carefully once more. This time he beheld his creation long enough that he was able to see its statistics.

[Item]

Accessory: Grass Bracelet

Quality: 1

Durability: 3

Defense: +1

Value: 0

[--]

“Not bad for a few pieces of grass woven together.” He checked the other bracelets and found similar information. One had slightly higher durability, so he decided to wear it. The others were taken apart so that he could recreate them.

Dedicated to his current task, Blackthorne worked and reworked the grass bracelets for over an hour until a superior version appeared. “Defense plus two and a durability of six? I’ll take it.”

He wore the new bracelet on his other arm then tossed the others to the side. New blades of grass were gathered up and the process from before was repeated. He worked and reworked them until he managed to create another one similar to the plus two defense version. Blackthorne removed the lesser bracelet that he was wearing and equipped the new one.

“So, that works pretty well. Let’s try something else.” He removed his bracelets and held one in each hand. Slowly he moved them together so that they touched. “Combine.”

A single point of vitality was expended, but a brief light show was his reward. The two bracelets merged into one much smaller item, a tiny grass ring. “What... It should have been a bracelet.”

He frowned at the tiny ring in his hand. The durability had increased to nine, but the defense had dropped to one. From a purely defensive standpoint the item was weaker than before. He had expended two items and created something less potent.

One of his specialty creation skills, synergy, allowed him to take two things and combine them into one superior thing. There were many uses for it from what he had learned during the first dream, but he would have to discover the power inherent within its function. A magical production skill capable of supplementing his desire to create items, but without the need to carry around blacksmithing equipment.

Blackthorne considered his ring for a moment. Synergy had created something less potent that what it had been before. His skill needed to be trained, but he was still surprised by the outcome. He was about to toss the ring aside, but he reached a sudden realization and blinked. “Wait... Maybe, I can use this.”

He held the ring in his hand and concentrated. One of his other skills was ring mastery, a useful skill for any magic wielder in this world. It allowed for the creation of a mystical link with a piece of jewelry.

It took a moment, but he did feel like he was somehow closer to the ring on some level. This was important. The link that he forged would allow him a bit more freedom when it came to enchanting or something far more useful, charging his new bonded item with his vitality.

Blackthorne concentrated on the ring for a moment and activated his ability to charge accessories with his vital essence. It felt like his body had been set on fire while he streamed his energies into the ring. In the end, he expended two points of his precious life force, and stored it within the ring.

He took out an onion and ate it. There was nothing else to eat at the moment, but he wanted to restore at least a little of his vitality. “Synergy costs vitality, and so does charging a ring. I should probably only use those abilities when I’m in a safe place, or when I am a bit more advanced.”

Ring equipped once more, he checked his status. His vitality was high enough to give his skill a try without dying horribly. “Right, let’s give it a try.”

He chanted the basic litany of the dark magic that he had at his command then cried out, “Jolt!”

The ring blazed brightly as the power stored within was unleashed. Tiny sparks of black lightning skittered out of his fingertips. He felt the weakness that accompanied the use of magic, but he did not think that it was as draining as the last time that he had used that spell. He checked his status and grinned. “Only lost one point. Good, it works...”

His skill selection had indeed solved the problem of limited vitality. However, when he checked his ring the durability had dropped by seven points. One cast had nearly destroyed it.

“Ah well, can’t be helped I guess. It is just a bunch of grass.” he said, before he rubbed his chin. “What else can I try?”

“Alchemy is out, I need ingredients and recipes.” Blackthorne realized after a moment of contemplation that he did have one other thing that he could try besides fiddling with grass. He took out his sword and looked at it. “The most basic form of enchanting...”

A shake of the head indicated his next thought keenly. He was not ready, yet. He would need to eat a few onions in order to regain his vitality first. If he managed to imbue the sword with magic, it would cost him three times the vitality cost of the spell to imbue it. He did not know for certain what happened if his vitality was completely expended, and that was one mystery that he was happy not to solve.

The onions made his stomach turn, but he forced himself to eat three more of them. He felt slightly nauseated but his vitality did increase by three points. Unfortunately, he was faced with another problem immediately afterward. His stomach had started to feel a little full. He would need to wait a while before he was able to eat more of little monster carcasses. It was a realization that acted as both blessing and curse for the man.

Blackthorne spent the time while digesting screaming onions at the task of weaving grass into bracelets. He had made over a dozen of them before he felt like he could handle eating more of his limited stock of supplies. He went ahead and ate two more then tried to keep himself from vomiting them up. His stomach settled after a moment and he went back to weaving. It was a difficult prospect when his stomach churned angrily due to the nature of its contents, but he chose to persevere.

Several hours passed as he worked. A pile of grass bracelets formed near him that varied greatly in the quality of their creation. Blackthorne had eaten enough onions to regain his full vitality long before, but he had thought better of attempting enchanting too soon. He wanted to be able to eat a few more onions immediately after making the attempt to imbue his weapon with magic. Well, if the truth were to be told he did not want to eat them. They made his tongue feel like it would blister. He did want the option to do so in opposition to his potential death, however.

“Alright, it’s time.” Blackthorne unsheathed his blade and held it lightly in his hands. The most basic form of enchanting in the dream world was the ability to temporarily imbue an item with corresponding magic. His jolt spell was an attack spell, so it needed to be added to a designated weapon. He suspected that higher forms of enchanting would allow for permanent or more powerful effects.

He concentrated on the sword for a moment. The overall nature of enchantment was not a difficult process to utilize. It was simple to forge a link with his sword, much like he had done with the grass ring.

Blackthorne spoke in a slow, measured, tone in order to properly elucidate the incantation for the jolt spell. As he did so, a vision of his sword beginning to glow with a baleful purple glow appeared within his mind. The glow grew brighter in its intense luminosity and soon skittering arcs of crackling black lightning began to radiate outward from the mental sword.

A minor tug on his body in various locations was the first sign that something had begun to take form in the reality beyond his eyelids. Soon he could feel the painful burning sensation once again. His life essence was being drawn from his body to become the fuel for the spell that he had imbued within his blade.

Blackthorne panted heavily when he finished his labors. Immediately, he pulled out another disgusting onion and ate the corpse. He felt slightly better on a physical level, but he was beyond tired of eating the damnable things. Worse, he still had only slightly more than half of his health remaining.

A grin, a simple vaguely joyful thing, rose upon his lips and he checked his weapon with great excitement. His eyes widened. His breath quickened slightly, and he nodded his head at a job reasonably well done. The experiment had not turned out badly at all.

[Item]

Copper Sword of Jolting!

Quality: 1

Durability: Infinite

Attack Power: 1-3

Value: Cannot be sold [will disappear after one month]

Special Option(s)

Rage Lightning: 1-6 Additional Attack Force

Remaining Uses: [3|Automatic]

[--]

“Now that’s great.” He did not like the automatic part of the usage, though. The first three strikes that connected with an opponent would unleash the power. He had studied each of the skills that he had chosen during the first dream and in even greater detail once he had awakened from his enforced slumber.

Higher grade enchantments would allow the wielder to activate the power inherent within the item at will, or under certain special conditions. Still, it was better than random usage. There was no way to know when the power would activate if the usage condition was random.

Blackthorne sheathed his blade then nodded. He was well pleased by the outcome of his training and experimentation. “So far everything works like it was supposed to work. Good.”

Knowledge regarding the methodologies for usage of his skills had been directly implanted within his mind during the first dream, but that did not mean that he had believed it would work. Now he knew that the skill information embedded within him acted in accordance with how this world actually worked.

After sheathing his sword, he set about sorting through his bracelets. He wanted to find the absolute best items among them. The rest of them would be placed into his bag to be used for further experimentation at a later time.

He wore the two best bracelets among the lot and stored the rest. They would make for good synergy fodder later. Right now, he would focus on making more bracelets until he could either not remain awake in the dream world any longer, or until he awoke naturally in the real world.

Blackthorne the mighty mage of grass weaving completed another eighteen bracelets before something truly interesting happened. Upon finishing his most recent verdant creation, a soft and undeniably sweet feminine voice whispered in his ear, “Your skill in jewelry crafting has increased.”

Alarmed by the sudden intrusion upon his silent work, he searched the area with apprehensive but curious eyes for a moment. The strange and intense moment passed once he realized what had actually happened. He had received this world’s equivalent of a system message! During the first dream he had been told that the goddess spoke to the people whenever they showed promise. The sweet, yet abrupt, words had been an announcement of his increase in skill level.

Brief pause was given as he considered the ramifications, and then he checked his skill list with great alacrity. There was little difference to behold, but the corner of his lip did slightly slip upward at the sight of his change in skill level.

[ Skills ]

Primary

Dark Magic Level 1

Conjuration Level 1

Secondary

Heavy Armor Usage Level 1

Sword Mastery Level 1

Ring Mastery Level 1

Tertiary

Synergy Level 1

Jewelry Crafting Level 2

Enchanting Level 1

Alchemy Level 1

[--]

The increase in his skill level was not the only thing he was interested to see, however. He checked his status as well. Skills and statistical scores were tied together. Crafting skills were invariably linked to vitality. His vitality had increased by one point as well.

During the first dream, or the tutorial as he liked to call it, Blackthorne had sifted through the available skills. He had then chosen the ones that he felt meshed well together. The end result was a dark knight sort of character, though he was more of a mage than knight in his estimation since magic was his primary skill-set and talent.

In truth, Blackthorne actually considered his current profession to be more of a tank mage, a heavy armor wearing destructive magic spell caster. It was a rare option in games except for paladin and dark knight characters. Those character types tended to be more knight than magic user, however.

Mages who could properly wear heavy armor and wield swords were of much greater rarity, and that rarity was often due to reasons related to game balance. The nature and capacity of his skills merged quite succinctly, and gave lie to the typical concepts of game balance. It was almost as though the dream world did not concern itself with creating a balanced game concept.

Ring mastery allowed him to charge rings with vital energy. Eventually he would be able to charge other accessories as well, but that would take quite a while. Synergy allowed him to combine items in order to create new items.

Enchantments would boost his natural attack and defense since his combat skills were lower than his magical damage. Jewelry crafting allowed him to create the accessories he would use to store his vitality. At some point alchemy would allow him to create potions and other items that would help immensely. Another reason that he chose the skills that he chose was that they would largely raise the stats he would need most, vitality and spirit.

His musings and ephemeral daydreams were cast aside with a shake of the head. He had business to attend to and did not want to waste what little time he had.

“I hope I can get better materials soon.” he said after considering the situation.

Blackthorne gathered the materials that were readily available then made several more bracelets over the course of another hour. There were a few more of the superior versions now, but none of the newly created items were better than what he currently wore. He stuffed everything into his bag and then tied it. There was precious little space left.

The bag was a strange, but useful item. When it was empty it was quite small. However, it stretched when things were added. Eventually it was three times longer and twice as large. It looked slightly ridiculous hanging from his belt. He did not mind, however. It was free and unlike his sword and cuirass it would not disappear in a few weeks.

There was little else to do after he finished his crafting skill work. He was tired, exhausted really, but he was also loathe to leave this world. There was something pristine, a certain innocent pure about this reality that he truly enjoyed. The real world was filled with assholes, hypocrisy, and people who always seemed to want to take what belonged to another whether through violence or guilt-laden manipulation.

Of course, given the fact that crass humanity had been brought into this dream-like existence, this world was now filled with assholes as well. Billions of people from Earth existed here at any given time of the day. No one knew how big this place was, but it seemed to be much larger than the waking world, as there were large sections of the world where people had appeared and claimed not to have met someone from Earth. So far, Blackthorne had lived a similar existence.

Blackthorne sighed softly then gripped the dirt. It did not matter whether this world was pure or not. It was his. This place might be a dream, but it was his dream. Throughout most of his life he had longed to be reborn in a place where he was not just a poor fat bastard who let the world run over him. He had desired a place where the nightmare existence that he had experienced could be forgotten like a bad dream.

Dirt slipped through the fingers of his upraised hand. It was quite fine, like sand. As that sand-like earth slipped through his fingers, he thought keenly about both it and the life that he had lived to this point. This time everything would be different. This time, he would be different.