“Now, Aren!” the archer shouted, ripping three arrows from the ground and placing them on the bowstring. With a burst of arcane light and glittering dust, she loosed the arrows towards the Bolg-orc — a massive creature, three heads taller than a normal orc. The arrows screamed in delight, longing for the taste of blood.

Aren closed his eyes. His mind opened to the buffer. Once again, he had the sensation of possessing a bird’s eye view of the area, however, this time, it was only a radius of thirty meters.

He extended his hand forward, palm open, and whispered. “Connect the path.” An arcane halo of dark red light appeared around his hand, and a same-colored thread appeared, winding and spiralling towards the Elite monster — a player distinction, not an official Singularity convention — and before it touched the orc, it wounded itself in spirals around him, before disappearing into his neck.

Three loud bangs echoed in the area of the new city ruins, as the arrows met with the orc’s shield, and then an enraged roar drowned out all sound.

Aren closed his hand and stepped forward. The resulting explosion of sound and light overpowered even the orc’s roar, and fragments of the shield and the orc’s arm still attached flew into the air.

[ Injury inflicted. Severity: Critical. Left arm amputated. ]

Aren could barely hang on to his orange-hot sword; the impact nearly shattered his wrist and caused the blade to flutter like a flag in the wind. The group couldn’t find a shadowblade for sale, but they managed to obtain the next best thing — an ember-iron sword, capable of withstanding tremendous heat.

The orc turned on its heel to attack Aren who now stood behind it. Nissa shouted something in Russian — her native language — and started reaching for more arrows. Fang shouted at the orc, trying to draw its attention, but the orc would have none of it. Damien also rushed towards the orc, from the back lines — his task was apparently to protect Cassandra who was chanting, infusing magic into her breath.

But Aren was not worried. He could see the path. He and he alone could see the convergence of possibilities — to glimpse into the future and find the solution. The path did not end after the [Flash].

No, that is where it truly began.

Without even looking behind himself, Aren leaped into the air, balancing his weight backwards, as if he was jumping over a bar. He felt the breeze of the orc’s claymore pass beneath him, the steel almost touching his skin. Almost.

He completed a full revolution, landing on his feet and lunging towards the orc — following the path. The orc spun around, also completing a full revolution, and the blade came at Aren again.

This time, Aren dropped to the ground, feet first, sliding under the claymore and running a full circle around the orc. And this time, when Aren came to his feet, the orc’s back was turned towards him.

His blade plunged into the back of the orc’s neck, and then through his throat and jaw.

[ Injury inflicted. Severity: Fatal ]

Immediately, the Bolg-orc fell to the ground in a heap of lifeless flesh. The blade hissed as the purple-black orc blood evaporated from the surface of the sword which began to slowly cool.

This was not the first orc they killed that night, but it still managed to impress the group. Every time they thought Aren failed to inflict the death blow, he would somehow manage to come ahead. And with such confidence. They could not fathom how a newbie could have such confidence. The rest of it? Sure, lucky perhaps. It happens. But confidence is something only veterans possessed, and Aren was no veteran.

In particular, Cassandra was over the moon. She stared and gawked at Aren’s athletic moves, sometimes even forgetting to cast her spells. On the opposite spectrum, Aren could sense that Damien was unhappy. After all, Damien was supposed to be the one to inflict the finishing blows on enemies weakened by Nissa and Fang. But now Aren took that role from him.

Aren expectantly looked at the approaching Fang, who had until moments earlier been ready to fight the orc again and draw its attention. In fact, Fang was running so hard and fast that it took him several stumbling steps to come to a complete stop.

What they were doing, ever since the group woke up and appeared in Singularity again, was purely experimentation. Their task would not begin until later. Aren explained to them that he learned how to open his buffer, and to use the path. The latter part of Aren’s explanation is what drew the group’s interest.

The suggestion that the path leads to a certain kill got the group very interested. Aren had tested the ability over and over again, and for every creature he came across — mostly goblins and a few orcs in the daylight — it led to a decisive strike that ended the fight.

But was it really a guaranteed fatal blow? The result against the Scar of Rakab suggested that it was — the Scar was a heroic monster, which was a Singularity convention. It was the leader of a warpack and much stronger than its followers.

The result was always the same, even against rare Epic monsters. Now, they could only test the ability against local threats and area bosses, to come closer to confirming the theory.

The problem, however, was that the path was not part of the Lightning Blade skill set. Aren had shared every detail of the class with the group, and in the process, he learned quite a few things, except for the origin of the path.

First of all, Guild and Alliance classes receive at least two skill sets, with a few open slots to add more. NPC and quest classes usually only had one skill set, with a larger amount of open slots. The distinction was made very clear. The reason why Aren’s Lightning Blade was nothing like the mythical Nightblade, or the more common Spellblade, was because they had additional skill sets, apart from their main class one — Nightblade and Spellblade respectively, each with three primary skills and 6 secondary skills — was because Aren only had a single skill set: Lightning Blade.

The other, more important, feature of Unique Classes was that they most likely had infinite open slots. Lightning Blade was not necessarily “unique”, other people may have had it, or perhaps still possess it, but each Lightning Blade would be different, because of the different skill sets they could learn. It, of course, came with a drawback. The more skill sets one possessed, the slower they would all advance. With three skill sets, it took a year — a whole year — to advance from Initiate to Journeyman.

“Did you see it?” Aren asked, referring to the path.

Fang shook his head. Nissa, Damien and Cassandra also didn’t see anything. “I saw the initial flash — a halo of magic around your hand — but then nothing. The Flash blinded me temporarily, but then you just ran around the boss, and stabbed him in the neck. It was magnificent.” Fang didn’t often give compliments, but even the veteran duelist was impressed by Aren’s athleticism.

Aren couldn’t claim credit for his athleticism. When he followed the path, it was as if he was doing things on autopilot; consciously, but also automatically. It was only in hindsight that Aren could pinpoint that he wasn’t all himself.

“I think it’s a hidden skill or ability,” Fang said. “It has to be. We see the initial pulse of magic, but only you see the line of death.”

“Death line,” Aren corrected him. Fang’s words put him slightly at ease. In all honesty, Aren suspected that it was the doing of Leviathan. But Fang was right. They could see the initial burst of magic. If it was Leviathan’s doing, and it was all in Aren’s head, surely, they would’ve seen nothing at all.

“Either way, the ability may reveal itself to you, and allow you to improve it, once we find you a proper weapon,” Fang explained.

The others had joined the group and made a half-circle in front of Aren.

“Why do I even need the shadowblade. This one is doing great,” Aren said, waving the still orange-hot sword in front of him, which made the others take a step back. “It doesn’t melt or explode.”

Fang shook his head. “You don’t get it. You need the shadowblade.”

“But why?” Aren insisted.

Fang frowned, casting his eyes at the ground. “How to explain this…”

“Ya need it fer macros an’ aliases.” Cassandra said, tapping her one and a half meter gold rod against the ground. “Like this on’. Helps me cast spells I otherwise wouldn’t be able to.”

“Right,” Fang said, nodding. “Right now, you are brute forcing everything with the size of your buffer. I remember you were very smart in school; here, that translates to a larger buffer. But that won’t work forever, Aren.”

Aren thought about it. It did make more sense. Were macros and aliases really that important, though? Couldn’t he just increase the size of his buffer?

“Right now,” Fang asked. “Would you be able to use another Flash or create another death line?”

Aren focused, trying to mentally poke the part of his brain that perceived the buffer to no avail.

“Probably not,” Fang said. “All the earlier calculations are probably still there, taking up space. Using the proper weapon, and in some cases the proper equipment in general, will not only increase the size of your buffer, but make your calculations smaller and more efficient. In particular, for caster-type classes, using the proper focus unlocks your true abilities.”

Aren nodded. He was convinced now.

Fang continued anyway, hammering the point home. “Right now, you are getting away with it because you can use your basic abilities without a focus. You are smart, so it makes sense that is possible. But those are basic abilities, Aren. Do you get it? They are a small drop in the ocean. And who knows how many hidden skill sets you have, or what your abilities can evolve into when you obtain the proper weapon.”

Aren held up his hands defensively. “I get it. I really do.”

Fang nodded. Cassandra smiled. “‘Sides, ‘tis our money anyway. Ya won’t lose anythin’.”

Aren sighed. That was part of the problem. He didn’t feel right just taking their money. For the inferior option, no less. What he needed was a lightning blade. The idea that a shadowblade might work was untested. It was just an assumption.

It seemed like they were all thinking about the same thing as Aren. Nissa spoke: “We couldn’t find anything on a lightning blade. We were careful and avoided asking directly, but we searched the libraries and asked the various Mage Guild representatives about special shadowblades and found out nada.”

Damien nodded. It seemed like he helped finding this information.

“What we do know, however, is that it is possible to make one,” Fang said. “We just need to find someone we can trust, proficient at manipulating elements — someone who can make shadowblades.”

Aren looked away, thought about it, and then nodded. “Right. If he can make shadowblades, he might be able to make a lightning blade. Same process, just different Planar Energy.”

“In theory,” Fang said, nodding in approval. “But for now, we’ll focus on the shadowblade. Shadow is an amalgam of all elements. That is why it is possible to make shadowblades, it sticks to everything like tar.”

“But why are you so certain it will work for me?” Aren asked.

“I just told you,” Fang said, smiling. He really was a devious bastard who enjoyed answering stupid questions. “It is an amalgam of all elements. It is an arbitrary percent lightning blade, as well as every other blade. That is how Spellblades can cast fireballs through their swords. It is a jack of all trades, so to speak.”

Aren should’ve realized it the moment Fang said it the first time. Of course! It made sense now.

“Furthermore, I suspect we’ll need to turn a shadowblade into a lightning blade. Remember what I said?” Fang asked.

“It sticks like tar?” Nissa asked.

Fang nodded. “And elements stick to it like tar.”

Aren felt relieved that he had such smart group-mates. He had really begun to trust them, especially after everything that happened. They were putting their futures on the line for him — everything they have ever earned was offered up to Aren and the potential he held. They knew very well that nothing could come of him. Even the failure condition of losing Aurora’s Favor — refusing to aid someone — did not deter them. They’ve thrown their lot in with him. Even the two strangers — Damien and Cassandra — whom they invited simply because they were nearby were giving up everything for him as well.

Aren did not really understand why they would take such a risk, but he was well aware that he might be underestimating just how impressive having Aurora’s Favor actually was, and how quickly, and by how much, their real world lives could improve if they pulled this off.

Especially after they saw him in battle, Aren knew that they must’ve released a collective sigh of relief. Aren was a newbie, that was certain, but the way he fought and the abilities he possessed blew their minds. Killing a Bolg-orc the way Aren did, for them, was a simple matter. But they were Silver rank adventurers, and Soldiers First Class in the army. They had tremendous experience and ability. Aren was a nobody, compared to them, and yet, he could fight at their level already.

They spent another hour scouting the new city. It still wasn’t dark out, and they were hoping to learn where the various orc nests were, before their main assault. They still had not even created the clan.

“All right, let’s head to Leone and finalize the clan,” Fang suggested, but it was more like a command. His bossy, smarter-than-you attitude often got him into trouble with other, older kids, but his martial ability and quick wit always saw him through it.

On the way back, Aren received a mental notification that he was about to be pulled out of the virtual world. He had almost forgotten the hellish torment-scape that awaited him in the real world.

“I am sorry, I have to go!” Aren shouted, as he broke from the group and ran off the highway, in sight of the massive walls of Leone. “I will be back in four hou—”

[ External command received. Session terminated. ]