The last two days were not easy for the suffering Dafur. The shaman forcefully made him his ‘assistant’, in truth, he was treated like a slave and a lab rat. Theoretically, he was getting paid daily with two gold coins, three meals a day, a possibility to stay in the village and a ‘knowledge’ from the shaman.

The problem was that the stronger druegars always stole from him. He suspected that the thugs were the shaman’s minions, or at least his supporters who wanted to kiss his ass.

And the ‘knowledge’? He was tortured to ‘find the possibilities of his talent and the limits of his body after being blighted’.

Dafur even told him about Stone in the first round of the ‘lesson’ when the pain was unbearable; the shaman tempted him with gems, gold and authentic dwarven beer to see the detriments of blight-augmented greed. Dafur could recognise an aged Winter Ale closely before him, enough for him to smell but never able to touch. It was driving him insane.

The shaman observed as Dafur was slowly consumed by greed and madness, almost breaking his limbs from the chains on the experimentation table. The shaman shook his head and said something in the range of lost cause, not believing his story about the sapient mineral.

After the session, Dafur requested help from the village chief, but even though he was spying for him, the chief couldn’t, or wouldn’t, do much; all he did, was to send some strong ointments to ease the pain and a promise of better pay in the future to Dafur’s immense despair.

On the last, but not final, ‘lesson’, the bastardly shaman permanently fused three unattuned low-grade mana crystals to his ribcage with acid. He connected them with coiling bronze wires inscribed with small runes. After that, the sadistic bastard forced him to connect to them with his new talent, , that allowed him to manipulate mana crystals to a certain degree.

The pieces of information about this talent were a little bit wonky on his explanation screen. He could not comprehend them properly as the runes were constantly changing. Only a few things were for sure; he gained this talent due to the blight and the knowledge about the first sentient mana crystal, which was frankly batshit crazy. The Universum even refused to talk to him afterwards. He never heard something like that happen ever before. The most important thing about it was that he could drain mana from them directly. Not too much, but he gained a technique yesterday. Dafur would bet his left nut that the talent had the potential to do much more.

His heart always palpitated with greed and curiousness when he read the explanatory runes about his talent and skill. The was a great technique, found in certain types of Monsters, Undead, legendary Ethereals, or wizard-type classes, mostly those of more evil nature.

The shaman wanted to experiment more, but Dafur collapsed from overexposure to raw, concentrated mana. He did not die solely thanks to his runemaster training and higher resistance gained through his new talent.

These were actually the reasons he was putting up with the shaman and the little political game with the chief; the possibility to explore this, even though painfully. Well, that, and the reality that he was not able to run away even if he wanted to. He was constantly watched by both shaman’s and chief’s men around the clock.

Dafur woke up on the cold ground in the sibling’s empty house after another round of the shaman’s brutal experiments. He glanced with a vacant gaze on now-too-familiar bare walls and ceiling, pondering in a haze if he should end it now.

His eyes slowly regained clarity. He stood up and poured water into his mouth from a leather canteen he stole from a drunk druegar. He wrote a report about shaman’s doings and left it at the agreed place inside the house, right behind the doors under a loose stone in the ground.

The mess hall was filthy, bustling, and noisy as always; drunk druegars were either fighting each other before the entrance, boozing even more or eating…

Three corpses lay near the entrance, waiting for the guards to dispose of them.

Dafur slipped unnoticed through the crowd, taking his portion of the discutable meat, he didn't want to know the origin of and a grilled mushroom.

“Well, well, well. The little shaman’s assistant,” a loud voice reverberated over the place as a robust druegar strolled next to him.

Dafur slumped his head and closed his eyes. “Why shoulda be today any different…” he muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothin, Krag…”

“Better be! Now, hand over your meal, slave,” he said with ridicule in his eyes.

Everyone in the mess hall froze as the dwarven forbidden word echoed.

Dafur’s face hardened and his eyes gained a dangerous glint. He leapt towards Krag and tried to punch him in the guts, but the druegar was a hardened warrior with defence and strength as his main source of power.

‘Crack!’

At least two of Dafur’s finger broke. The pain woke him up and he retreated.

“Heh, ya shoulda have naet do this!” Krag dangerously gnarled and unsheath the mace. A small rune glowed on it and he prepared to strike.

But Dafur did not stay like a lamb on a sacrificial altar and conjured a fiery rune. The three mana crystals lodged in his chest shined and the rune enlarged. It was two times as big as normal and the surrounding mugs of booze hissed as the heat turned all the liquids into steam.

The rest of the druegars rapidly formed a ring around them, deafeningly cheered and placing bets.

Krag observed the hissing, fiery rune with regret that he had not brought his shield and proper armour. Someone would get badly hurt and he looked around for the guards. After all, fighting was forbidden in the mess hall, but no guards appeared within sight.

A two-meters long fiery spear emerged from the rune and travelled through the air towards the druegar. He hastily cast a around his body channeling most of his mana through a rune tattooed on his body, but it was not enough.

The spear impacted Krag's on the belly, though weakened a little bit, broke through, piercing his shoulder as he hastily attempted to evade. The searing pain paralyzed the druegar and he dropped to the ground.

Dafur conjures another fiery rune, this time a normal-sized one. However, right before the flaming arrow could appear, the rune fell apart like rotten wood.

Everyone watched as the motes of mana slowly faded into nothingness.

“Kakaka,” a cackle sounded behind him and Dafur slowly turned to the shaman, “Dornus ass!”

“What do we have here? A blighted assistant of min’ figtin’ in the mess hall? Dinna they explain the rules to ya?”

“Shaman! Krag said forbidden dwarven word!” One of the spectators, a small female druegar with ample cleavage, said.

“Oh, did he now?” The shaman’s smile deepened, but his eyes looked at her with a barely noticeable murderous glint. She whimpered and retreated back to the anonymity of the crowd. Not much with success as others stepped away from her. “Well, in that case I’ll explain the situation to the chief and ask him for leniency’. Guards!”

Three guards came out from the crowd. “What do ya wish, shaman?” They asked as they lined up before him and saluted him with a closed fist on their heart.

“Take these two and follow,” he calmly issued and they obeyed without hesitation. Two of them picked up the squirming Krag from the ground and one of them poured a healing potion into his mouth. Krag’s contorted face relaxed as the wound closed with visible speed. The last guard grabbed Dafur by his broken hand and pressed. Dafur noted mocking eyes hidden in the helmet.

“Well… fuck. I wonder… what happens now,” Dafur thought about what occurred. The realization hit him; “T’at fuck’r! It was sham’n’s ploy… but why? He’s already completely controlling mea! I can’t run! I can’t fight back! What does he want!” Even in his thoughts, he sought to avoid the word slave, but it always seemed to follow him, time and time again.

The gnawing realization bothered him the whole way into the chief's house. He hated to admit it. It went against everything he was, but… he truly was a slave. A pet. An experiment… His eyes swelled up and he began to silently cry. A humiliation… More than that…

The shaman did not even bother with the guards before the entrance and entered like it already belonged to him. They stopped in the reception room. “Tadra! Com’ her’!” Again, the shaman did not bother even pretending basic respect.

“Oooh? I’m still the chief! What do ya wanna, bastard!” Chief-Tadra annoyedly exclaimed as he emerged out of his quarters.

“Hehe… your little boy here fought in the mess hall.”

Upon these words, the chief froze and stared at the sobbing dwarf with a callous face, “Darkul ass! This’s bad… It was mea who allowed him to stay to mess with the shaman…” He thought to himself. “And?” He carefully asked when he saw a deepening grin on the shaman's face.

“Ya know the rules! After all, they’re yours! But!” The shaman paused and his eyes cheerfully glinted, “but, I won’t insist on the punishment. Instead, he will become fully min’. Oh, and ya’ll publicly and formally apologize to Krag,” Shaman-Garza said with a low voice and almost laughed when he saw a flood of emotions on the chief’s face, ranging from anger to humiliation.

“Fin’!” Chief-Tadra angrily agreed. He really did not have an option here now. Rules were rules and his fOrces were weakened right now. “FUCK! Krag… I killed his father to become the chief! This… will lower my standing! Heavily! Fucker… But I have no option here. My core people are taking down goblins… Why are they so active’? And where are they, anyway?” His mind spun.

Krag kneeled before the shaman completely disregarding the village chief, “thank ya, boss!”

“Hehe!” The shaman chuckled as he noted the chief’s humiliation. Not only did he get acknowledged as a boss before the chief… He humiliated him, stole his spy and he was going to make sure Krag would spread the word. Still, he wanted more. “Oh, where is Jarka and the rest?” He smirked.

These words ripped the chief out of his deep thoughts and irked him even more.

“Why do ya ask? Huntin’ the greenskins! Ya shoulda have joined!”

“Naet today, chief,” he mockingly emphasized the chief’s position, “but I hope’ they’re fin’!”

“What do you mean by that?” The chief intensely frowned, but the Shaman-Durza joyously walked out with his minions behind him, ignoring the question. The chief realized that something was wrong… This timing, Jarka being late. “Something is wrong!” he nervously muttered under his breath and called for another one of his loyal minions.

“Tak’ a group and find Guard-Jarka! Understand?”

“Yes, chief!” The guard answered and saluted with an open hand on his chest.

Outside, the shaman spoke, “Krag! Don’t forget to say what happened to everyone, understood? Everyone! But keep the apology for yourself for now.”

“Yea, boss… don’t ya worry! I can’t wait!” Krag happily skipped away, his shoulder fully healed.

“Idiot… But useful. He’ll lower standin’ of the chief. Weakness cannot be tolerated!” The shaman smirked.

They arrived at the temple, and the sobbing Dafur was, once again, bound to the experimentation table again. An extremely happy shaman proceeded with a new ‘lesson’. Thankfully, Dafur was unconscious... most of the time.

☁☁☁☁☁☁

Bored Lucifer was trapped in the Stone's unresponsive mind… he waited… and waited… almost like a stone… he sat like a rock resting in an empty pond.. So he remained, bored… in the silence. Ughhh!

He awakened from his stupor. This was not the first time that this had happened. Maybe their connection was closer than he thought and some of the Stone’s 'personality' rubbed off on him.

Eager to remain awake and unable to train, being in the knapsack and all, he finally remembered to read his explanations.

As the explanations were getting longer, more complex, and annoying, he decided to change his perception of the descriptions.

Hex the man, hex the female, but be prepared for the punishment!

Hexes and curses are a dangerous matter in the universe filled with mana, where the casting can go awry very quickly. As a Hex Master, you are able to predict the possible outcome, including detrimental effects and feedback.

This increases the chance of a successful cast to 95% under normal circumstances.

Perks:

- you gain natural resistance to curses and hexes

- T1 and T2 do not require magic circles - increases with gained knowledge and tiers

- harder to dispel, requiring at least 3rd-tier expertise - increases alongside your evolution

- harder to resist, requiring at least 2nd-tier resistance for 50% chance to resist - increases alongside your evolution

- research time of a new hex is 3 times faster

- resource cost lowered by 25% - can be increased by gaining more knowledge and deepening of the understanding of hexes

Spell: Life-for-Life Hex

School of Necromancy

Favourite hex of hex masters, curse masters, necromancers, Undead… and any other unsavoury beings. It is a hex that binds two beings by lifefOrce. Every time you get damaged/healed, the target is damaged/healed by the same amount and vice-versa.

Can be deactivated by will or dispelled.

Requires 50 (-25%) Flux to activate (7.5 sec), upkeep 3 (-25%) Flux / min.

Materials:

- 75 (-25%) grams of mana-ashwood ash

- ⅓ (-25%) of fresh 2nd-tier Monster heart

- sample of blood (or equivalent) of the intended targets

- Due to the Talent: Stone {wielder} the spell parameters are evolving

Upkeep has been furthermore halved to 1.5 Flux / min. Resource requirement has been removed. You can keep the being named Stone alive for a prolonged time by transferring diluted Flux into his existential matrix to keep it stable.

This works uniquely for your host! Due to talent Subordinate, this process is automatic!

Warning: The automatic process is merely life support and will not fully recover Lifeforce. Too much Flux will result in permanent damage of the matrix array.

On level up:

- resource requirements will increase {+1% / lvl}

- able to connect more beings in the same net {+1 being / 15 lvls}

- casting speed reduction {+5% / lvl} >

After an hour of coaxing the Universum, the knowledge was read to him by an oddly familiar voice.

He would definitely force Stone to change his tablets to this, even though it would be hard to persuade him as the idiot really loved his stone tablets.

An ability to resist all of the creation that is in the universe.

Wanna swim in the sun? Take a dive in the blackhole? Not to freeze in space? Or not to be poisoned by your spouse? Resistances are for you! Currency is pain and time! No warranties! No returns!

All resistances can evolve due to mana and.. well, even the gods need entertainment.

For every tier, there are 20 levels. Once you reach the maximum level, you are impervious to that tier.

First and second tiers are considered non-magical versions. That means simple poisons, acids, steel-melting fire, coldness to -50°C, etc…

There could be some perks or detriments... Nobody knows how many resistances there are and there has never been a being with all of them… Only time will tell it will be a bane or boon. Sounds Fun Right?

Curse T1L5

Most beings gain this resistance as it's relatively normal to be cursed. Still, only very few of them level the skill to higher tiers, allowing you to experiment with curses without fear of feedback.

- You can allow/disallow curses to be successfully cast on you if they fail from the 10th level of the tier.

- 1st-tier 25% resistance {+5% per level}

- acquired due to talent {50% faster levelling}

Hex T1L5

Relatively rare resistance, which allows you to experiment with hexes without fear of feedback.

- You can allow/disallow hexes to be successfully cast on you if they fail from the 10th level of the tier.

- 1st-tier 25% resistance - {+5% per level}

- acquired due to talent - {50% faster levelling}

- synergy with talent Hex Master; you can store one precast 1st-tier hex in your soul and cast it as a curse>

With the explanations done, Lucifer could only wait in the Jarka’s knapsack. He was glad for it. It was… calm. Lucifer began to understand why Stone did not like ‘loud’.

After resting for a bit, the remaining druegars packed their belongings. With Jarka at the front, they left with another shaft in the village’s direction. She handed the bag with Stone to Scout-Durza, saying she needed to be fully prepared for possible ambushes. Not like it mattered.

Lucifer learned to protect Stone as even the slightest chip or scratch would kill them both.

Thankfully, Lucifer’s hundreds of years of watching others use the spell allowed him to learn it outside of the scope of Monsters’ instinct and after another hour of hard pondering and failed attempts, Stone’s body was enveloped by a purplish film of the spell.

They had to take a long detour to avoid the more and more active goblins. Still, they had to fight several times.

The last fight went badly. They met a scout party in a narrow shaft and due to his tiredness, one of the warriors made a mistake. An arrow pierced his head directly through the eye. The attacker was quickly disposed of, however another druegar was dead.

Now, the remaining were Guard-Jarka, Scout-Durza, Eriv, Dori, and Scout-Korag. And of course, Lucifer, who could not do jackshit. Except watching their backs. The perception sphere was superior to eyes in every possible way.

He conjured a weak bubble near Jarka’s ear and a quiet ‘plop’ notified her that the mysterious saviour wanted to talk to her.

“Car’ to help? We won’t mak’ it to villag’ this way…”

“Can’t. Too hurt, but don’t you worry, I am closely following you.”

“Hmm…” she thought about something and asked, “so, what do ya wanna?”

“We are being followed. Well, you are being followed by an Orc. He is about fifty meters behind you,” Lucifer wrote with the goblins’ blood.

“ORC?!” She exclaimed and everyone tensed.

“Yea, so I recommend you to prepare.”

“Can’t we outrun him?”

“No! Too late!”

The hurried heavy steps echoed closely behind them.

They lined into a formation with the hope they would be able to defeat the enemy. Still, despair was apparent in their eyes.

From the corner of the crooked shaft emerged the Orc. He was towering impressive 2.5 metres and was as wide as three humans. He had massive 15-centimetres long tusks protruding from his large mouth, intelligent eyes and long, black hair. His deep-green skin was rough as sandpaper and his bulging muscles looked like they were carved from steel, brimming with sheer power.

He was a bonafide low-level 4th-tier Monster or maybe even practitioner. As he caught up with them, he focused on the druegars. “Are you the party of the druegar named Jarka?” He inquired with a booming, deep voice and an impeccable celestian.

The frozen Jarka nodded.

“Are you sure?”

Jarka nodded again and visibly relaxed as the Orc did not murder them on the spot.

“Finally,” the Orc sighed in relief and continued, “Shaman-Garza sends a message; don’t return to the village for now.”

Jarka frowned and carefully put Stone back into the bag and handed him back to Scout-Durza who passed it to Dori.

“Did he say anythin’ else?”

“No. But I have orders to bring you to the temporary camp. Oh, yeah, and sorry about those two idiots. They were supposed to bring you to the camp,” he looked at the remains of the goblin party that were splattered across the ground, “without any killing. What happened to the cretins?”

“Killed.”

“Hmm, good job,” the Orc nodded in acknowledgement. “No wonder they chose you…” He muttered. He turned from where he came and beckoned the druegars to follow him.

“What was that?” Dori asked, his eyes wide.

“I’ll explain later. Let’s go. Boss is waitin’,” Jarka whispered back.

The dwarven siblings peeked at Jarka with confusion, but Scout-Durza calmed them with a crooked smile.

“You are traitors!” Scout-Korag yelled as he woke up from his befuddled stupor.

The Orc halted, “should I kill him?” as the Orc asked, he disappeared from everyone’s eyes.

Only Lucifer was able to follow his movement thanks to his perception dome.

The Orc activated some kind of skill that increased his movement speed by several times and appeared behind the scout, grabbing his neck with one hand in the angle that would allow him to snap his spine with a single twitch.

“Don’t! Durza! Talk to him. He survived to this moment. He’s strong. I wanna him,” Jarka exclaimed and the Orc slightly relaxed

“Yea, boss,” Durza replied and turned his eyes to the hanging druegar, “Korag! Donna be stupid. We have known each other for a long time. Ya know I woulda naet chose a side without thinkin’. Swear to Jarka with soul-bind,” he stopped and pulled out a peculiar opaque bottle, “or drink this. It’s the delayed poison from the 3rd-tier Tropa Snake.”

“What about Dori and Eriv?” Korag asked as he glanced at them with hope.

“They’re dwarves who paid for their stay. They will not make problems,” Jarka turned to the siblings and clearly threatening them, asked, “right?”

“What do ya think, Eriv?”

“Meh. I don’t care much. We survive, we get stronger and have each other back.”

“Agreed. But what about that friend of yours? Dafur, I think?” Dori asked.

“He’s naet mae friend. Actually I donna know him that much… We just met a few days ago…” When she thought about it, she realized that Dafur was a complete stranger. Maybe, she liked him for a bit before. Maybe even had a crush on him, but the last few days erased every thought of him.

“Fine, drink the potion,” she devilishly smiled and handed them the two opaque vials. The siblings glanced at each other and swallowed it without a word. “Now, what do ya say, Korag? Death? Poison? The Oath?”

“… oath,” the druegar warrior mumbled and the Orc’s hand tightened again.

“What was that? I dinna heard ya.”

“Oath!”

“Good! So swear!”

“I, Korag, with mae free will pledge loyalty to Jarka with mae soul,” Korag ceremoniously proclaimed and a golden collar briefly appeared on his neck.

Eriv’s and Dori’s faces contorted in disgust as they saw it. This was basically a form slavery. Jarka knew about dwarven opinions of slavery and that was why she had not even asked them.

The Orc released the druegar warrior and led them through the shafts to a familiar camp, which Lucifer recognized almost instantly. “Aaah, here we go again… But I wonder… why didn't she say anything about me, the mysterious person who saved them?” Lucifer pondered.

The goblins shivered in the presence of an Orc and most of them even prostrated as he proudly walked around. He ordered a few of the 2nd-tier guards and a new large tent was built with a swiftness found only in the goblin’s fear and respect for the Orc race.

Meanwhile, the Orc went to report. The druegars sat around the campfire and rested while some goblins brought them water, grog, and grilled goblin meat seasoning with dried Moss.

“This is so strange… We’re in the middle of goblin camp…” Dori muttered to cover his light smile as he heard his purple fire, “Maaasssstteeeerrr, the poiissooonn iiiissss gooooneeeee.”

“Heh, there’re way stranger sights in the Abyss…” Durza answered while he happily devoured his meal and sipped the grog.

“How can ya drink t’at?!” Korag was horrified and disgusted, “dinna ya hear from what it’s made of?”

“I like it…” Scout-Durza replied with an overacted hurt tone.

“Heh, pass it, Durza,” Jarka stretched her arm and grabbed the metal canteen. “Do ya know why it’s in metal, Korag?”

“Why?”

“Because the leather would run away!” She loudly laughed and took a mouthful swig.

After a while, the Orc returned, “boss is hunting now. He will be back tomorrow. Go to sleep. You are under my boss' protection now. I will stay here to ensure your safety.”

“And to make sure we won’t wander… but… hehe…” Lucifer thought to himself while he waited for everyone to sleep.

☁☁☁☁☁☁

Master Therdreag and master Baelgin hastily arrived before the Assembly house, towering in the middle of the city, upon the nightly but nonetheless irrefutable ‘invitation’ from the local Abyss Army general, a 5th rank of the unknown , Harkon Boomhammer.

He was an accomplished and relatively famous general even in the deeper layers of Abyss. Despite his name, he preferred to arm himself with a short rune-sword in one hand and a state-of-the-art, one-handed auto-loading crossbow in another. The crossbow was possible to infuse with single-elemental mana. It was said that he found an ancient book explaining a rare in ruins while he was in the expeditions to the third level of the Abyss.

The two masters met before the massive, mana-wood, rune-inscribed gate, it was made with a simple design, as if its craftsmen expected its destruction.

They looked at each other with a knowing smile found only forged with a long and strong friendship and nodded.

The gate slowly opened before them after the guards, clad from head to toe in glossy darksteel-plated armours and matching double-edged, two-handed axes, confirmed their identities.

The exquisite, large hallway long enough to swallow a whole street stretched before them. The walls were engraved with silvery glowing runes. On the sides were towering exquisitely crafted statues of Paragons, heroic generals, kings and genial craftsmen of the Dwarven race.

Another guard arrived next to them and escorted them in. They strolled through the hallway, passing the statues and many closed doors. The place was eerily silent.

The guard guided them down the stairs to the underground; the first level of the maze under the city.

They walked into a grand hall with even more statues, pillars and long tables filled with maps and reports. The place was brimming with chatting high-ranked guards, soldiers and shadowy figures, clearly scouts and spies.

A few of them scanned the new arrivals, but when they noted the insignias on the official runemaster robes, most of them saluted with a raised right fist.

The masters quickly walked through the hall to one of the side-rooms with a receptionist before them. The guard nodded at him and left.

“Mast’r Therdreag, Master Baelgin, welcom. The general awaits ye inside. Pleas, enter.”

The room was small and secluded. Walls were hidden behind bookshelves, overfilled with reports, maps and books. In the middle were two comfy chairs. Behind them was a plain mahogany table with a 50-litres beer keg and three mugs near it.

“Happy minin, runemae’strs!” The general, sitting behind the table, welcomed them with a deep voice. He was bald, had the deep and experienced brown eyes of someone who has seen too much and an old-school, unattended brown beard without single grey hair. His skin was pale, as he rarely left the underground. He was wearing a tunic, engraved with a dark pickaxe and fiery hammer/ two pickaxes were holstered on his back, one dark and the other fiery, simple black pants and mithril greaves.

“Happy minin’, general!” They replied in unison.

“I’ll go directly to the point. We need to create a new outpost near that newly acquired crystal mine,“ the general did not waste time and spoke with a slightly traditional dwarven intonation.

Master Therdreag frowned and Master Baelgin confusedly asked, “Isn’t it too soon? The mine has not been cleared yet.”

“Doesn’t matter,” the general replied with poorly hidden anger and disgust.

“Don’t tell me somebody leaked the location!” Therdreag exclaimed. It was the only reason to take the risky path of hasty development.

“… A certain three dwarves, owners of a certain small minin guild, were arrested and trialled for treason,” the general answered.

“Who?” A single word reverberated, however, there was a certain aspect of expectation. The general mused for a moment and answered. These two would learn it anyway.

“Thulganthar, the flying city of Shadow Mages.”

“DORNUS ASS! What did they promise them?! And why?” Baelgin shouted over this unexpected turn. Therdreag on the other side did not seem surprised.

“Hmm…Under the truth-seeking rune and truth-saying potion, they confessed that they wanted the mine for themselves. But when Master Therdreag reported its location and the Assembly took over, they were left with nought but an almost empty marble mine. They got around thirty thousand gold coins from their patrons. Enough to buy a low-class noble title. The rest is history…”

“So Shadow Mages have fucking spies in the city with a wide net and enough cash? Do they want war?” Therdreag inquired.

“…” the general did not answer. Instead, he continued with the original theme, “Tomorrow, I wanna use your laboratory as a forward base, before we build the proper outpost. As an accomplished 5th-rank runemae’str and researcher, the laboratory will stay in your possession. You have a portal, right? Army of the Abyss will rent it or buy it directly for a high price, of course. That is why I invited you here.”

“Fuckery… Rent! One hundred and fifty percent above the usual!” Therdreag muttered under his beard. He did not like the idea of having an army wandering around his ancient laboratory, but he did not have a choice. This was an Assembly decision.

“One hundred and five percent!”

“One hundred and forty-five!”

“One hundred and seven!”

They haggled for a bit and after a fierce argument filled with threatening, crying, and a brief but savage battle, the final price was 120.6% above the usual price. Baelgin stood aside, enjoying the unfolding show. When they ended the haggling, he asked, “And why am I here?”

“Our spies found traces of your disciple. Dafur, was it?” He paused, looking at Baelgin. He nodded and the general continued, “Anyway, we assume he surviv’d the fall, even though the chasm leads directly to the first level. Besid’s, you are a known friend of Therdreag… He would tell ya anyway. ”

“Fifty kilometres straight down… How?”

“We don’t know. It’s quite strange. The army runemae’str found traces of refined mana.”

“Dornus ass… Luckily, the deposit did not explode and pollute half the mountain range…” Therdreag chipped in.

“Well… This is quite troublesome. How many people know about it?” Baelgin asked.

“The scout, his captain and us.”

“Baelgin, don’t tell me you have abandoned him,” Therdreag turned to his friend with a slight frown.

“What could I do? Dornus knows where in the Abyss he is hiding. I already reported his death to his family and paid the reparation. You know what happens to blighted dwarfs…” He defended himself with a weary face. It had cost him a lot of gold and even some gems. He could not afford to anger Dafur’s family. Even though the apprentice was mediocre at best, the family were geniuses. Especially Tafur. He had to even make him a mithril hammer as reparation for losing his twin.

“Well, that’s all for now. Now, let’s forget all of that. We drink!” The general grinned as he joyfully exclaimed. He tapped the keg with an experienced swing.

The two runemasters merrily laughed with the general and all three of them began reminiscing about old times and talked about their future plans.

☁☁☁☁☁☁

‘Madly-grinning’ Lucifer

The exhausted druegars and dwarves dropped like flies as the adrenaline from the battle wore off.

Soon, the boisterous snoring reverberated so loudly that even the loitering goblins around the tent glanced in their way while scratching their ugly heads.

Even the sleeping 2nd-tier goblins were suddenly awakened by it and angrily searched for the source, but a peek at the deeply meditating 4th-tier Orc expelled any ambitions that sprouted in their savage minds.

Lucifer’s nonexistent mouth formed a grin filled with expectation.

He carefully opened the bag thrown in the back of the tent with the and stealthily levitated behind the tent.

He trained for a bit his spells and techniques.

The soared at unprecedented speed. In just two hours, it reached 18th level. He could continuously float around as he had the whole of Stone’s mana refinement for himself.

He realized that the should not be this powerful... Stone already weighed around half a kilogram, so he let the peculiar mechanical voice read the description to him.

Weakened flux-based aberration of ambient manakinesis, similar to telekinesis of psychics. The precursor ‘weak’ means you do not meet the requirements to learn the standard version, meaning it is 10 times weaker. Still, it’s much more efficient than using basic mana manipulation expertises.

It allows you to grab things or beings in a specific range with your own flux and move them at your will or levitate yourself. It is possible to resist with pure strength or other expertises.

Synergy with race Ethereal – as one of the Ethereal races, your Weak Fluxkinesis is much stronger than usual – 3 times stronger and more efficient.

Range: 4.7 meters – +0.3m per level (2 meters base)

Weight: 1300 grams – +150 grams per level (100 grams base)

Speed: 3.7 kph – +0.3 kph per level (1 kph base)

Requirements: 0.333 FP per second>

“Oh, this is incredible!” Lucifer joyously exclaimed. He made a few rounds behind the tent, testing the limits. “Aaah, so this fabled freedom. It’s amazing to not be held down by anyone! Can I…”

His thoughts unnoticeably froze for a tiny moment under a certain talent's influence. “No! What am I thinking? Of course, I have to help him. I have to heal him… somehow! Fuck… Maybe some killing? Experience is energy too… It could stimulate his matrix somehow. Let’s try!”

Lucifer formed a plan and levitated to the other side of the camp, waiting for some secluded victim.

A drunk 1st-tier goblin popped out from the corner and pissed on the Stone’s body… and subsequently on Lucifer.

Lucifer's imaginary eyes flinched in wrath. He evaded from the yellowy stream and formed a single, 4-FP . The goblin's eyes bulged with shock, but before he could even react in his drunken stupor, the purple flux missile hit him squarely in the eye. It stunned him and another two missiles quickly finished him off.

Lucifer looked at his journal and frowned, “What the... Oh! Level difference! Fuck! I have to kill a 2nd-tier… But I do not have enough output. Hmm… Flux Missile!” He wished and the explanation was read to him.

He blinked at the explanation… That was…

☁☁☁☁☁☁

Encyclopaedia Stonia

Army of the Abyss

Experienced, elite army, created exclusively for battling Abyssal creatures and led by Paragon Thorar Deep-Slayer. They seldom leave the underground, and thanks to that, their skin is pale. They are considered great heroes and it’s an extreme honour to even meet one.

The army will accept almost anyone. Even heavy criminals, including traitors, but the rules are absolute, enforced with an iron fist and a special rune.

You break the rules, you die dishonourably. Your name is engraved on the ceiling above everyone to be forever hated. If you commit a lighter transgression against the rule, a suicide in service of the Army is given, an honourable mission, but one with a gauranteed death...

There are two requirements to join:

- Be at least at the 2nd rank of your class.

- Have twenty gold coins prepared and deposited for your funeral.

Curses and Hexes

Curses are ‘verbalised’ spells that do not require resources, only mana (or an equivalent). They are fast, but they are easy to resist - plug your ears at the lower tiers. On higher? “Ya’re fucked without resistance!” That’s what Boomhammer says to the newbies...

Their effects are very limited as they mostly affect souls and minds to disrupt concentration, conjure hallucinations and at higher levels can directly damage the psyche.

Hexes are the ritualistic side of the coin. They require materials, magic circles, and plenty of mana (flux, refined mana, etc…). On the other hand, their effects are varied and always require a ‘living’ being in their midst (includes mechanical beings, tools).

There are hybrid rituals between curses and hexes to curse tools. Cursed swords and armours are the best examples. But they are tough to perform and require the work of highly skilled blacksmiths (or others crafting professions or classes) and require high-tier curse and hex expertises.

Tropa Snake

3rd-tier evolution of certain poisonous snakes. They are around four meters tall, with three eyes and two tongues. Their skin has black coloured scales with red spots, and they secrete a poisonous musk through it.

The snake was named after an unlucky human third-rank hunter, the discoverer of the species, Tropa Silver-Snake. He specialized in reptilian hunting, and of course, he could not resist the appearance of the new species. Well, he knew nothing about them, arrogantly grabbed one of them by his bare hand. What to say, only that the poison was too strong even for his resistance. The snake had a delicious dinner that day.

Their only natural habitat is the first and second layers of the Abyss where they are considered one of the strongest beings. On the surface, they are sold as unique pets to gardens of royalty, or wealthy nobles by brave adventurers, or very desperate ones. They are also considered contraband, as their poison is highly potent. Their main weakness is their lack of ranged attacks, so they have to rely on ambush, in which they are incredibly proficient.

Their poison can wholly paralyze (including the heart) even high-levelled third-rankers/tiers. Then the snake eats the prey alive.

With a few adjustments from an experienced alchemist, the diluted version of this poison paralyzes the target’s breathing system, which suffocates him or her if the antidote is not administered. There is a delayed version that poisons first and second ranks/tiers for a very long time and suffocates them to death if the antidote is not regularly administered.

The next evolution of this species is still unknown, as it is quite a new species; only two hundred years old, and high-rank researchers have better things to do than care for some snakes…