After the last battle, Alice was pleasantly surprised not only by the level-up but also by the fact that she had gained 2 Skill Points and an extra skill was available. She wondered if this was going to be a pattern every five levels, something that seemed very likely.

She perused the skills and made a selection after some thought.

Name: Alice Fontaine

Class: Seer

• Level: 5

• HP: 25

• MP: 180

• Might: 5

• Finesse: 5 

• Mystique: 60

• Essence: 60

Active Skills:

Premonition (R1 L1)

• Allows the user to see up to 30 seconds into the future. Duration: 1 s, MP cost: 15, CD: 600 s.

Clairvoyance (R1 L3)

• Reveals everything within a 60-meter radius, including any entity below rank 2. Duration: 6 s, MP cost: 25, CD: 560 s.

Whisper of Alacrity (R1 L2)

• Enhances an ally's Finesse by 10. Duration: 125 s, MP cost: 15, CD: 295 s.

Regen Accelerator (R1 L1)

• Increases HP and MP regeneration of the targeted ally by 50%. Can also be used on self. Duration: 5 s, MP cost: 10, Cooldown: 300 s.

Passive Skills:

Magic Drawing

• Allows the user to draw in the air.

100% Mystique increase

100% Essence increase

She had invested in the Premonition skill with the bonus SP she gained from her Enlightenment and was considering upgrading it now, sensing she would need it soon. However, there wasn’t much difference between level 1 and 2, and upgrading Clairvoyance was more important at the moment, as it had finally reached a range where it could be useful.

She had also learned the new ability, offering another boost for Thaleia, which could stack with her innate superior HP regeneration for speedy recovery. At level 1, it was not very useful, but she knew it would become more effective in later levels.

Having Premonition at level 1 was sufficient for the time being, as the feedback she could provide Thaleia during battle was limited, if not to say non-existent. Thus, she needed practical skills that could offer an initial advantage and could be cast mid-battle without having to communicate with Thaleia. Premonition would inform her if something was dangerous, and that was about enough for now; she would upgrade it in the future if necessary.

The battle concluded almost as quickly as it began. The additional 25 Might did indeed render the skeleton minion more resilient, but resilience was all it could boast. The knight, charging forward on his mount, effortlessly breached the skeleton's meager defenses with a powerful and swift halberd strike that launched the skeleton airborne, leaving it with barely any HP. However, that 'barely' was crucial—it had survived.

It's essential to understand that the efficacy of a strike hinges on two factors: weight and speed. The knight, blessed with both attributes thanks to the added velocity and mass of his mount and having attained the first level of mastery with his halberd, skillfully exploited these factors to amplify the force of his attack. The fact that the beleaguered skeleton managed to withstand the blow, albeit just barely, underscored the significant impact of that 25 extra Might.

Despite being quickly knocked down, the skeleton rose once more, ready to ... well, face a swift end. Yet, the knight chose to bypass the battered minion, setting his sights on Virgil instead. This move hinted at a level of strategic acumen Dante had not anticipated.

Nonetheless, the brief distraction caused by the skeleton, lasting no more than a second—due to its impact on the knight's momentum—provided Virgil with a precious window of opportunity. That fleeting moment proved critical, allowing Virgil to swiftly cover the remaining 20 meters and begin dismantling the catapult.

It's worth noting that Virgil, empowered by active boosts, possessed over 70 Might and 50 Finesse, elevating him well above human capabilities. For someone of his enhanced stature, traversing 20 meters was trivial, and a shoddily constructed catapult posed little challenge.

The knight, showcasing a level of superhuman speed in his mount that surpassed Virgil's own, arrived at the catapult with astonishing swiftness. However, despite the urgency of his task, he had to be careful not to damage the very siege equipment he aimed to defend, making the situation quite challenging.

Leveraging the catapult as makeshift cover, Virgil maneuvered with the agility of a seasoned fighter, all while systematically sabotaging the siege engine. The knight, trapped in a delicate balance between aggression and preservation, found his strikes constrained by the need to avoid harming the catapult. This predicament allowed Virgil to deftly navigate the encounter, using the machine's imposing frame to his advantage.

In this tactical dance, he was not merely dodging attacks but also strategically dismantling the catapult piece by piece. Simultaneously, the unsuspecting crew, caught between their duty to operate the siege weapon and the sudden assault, were quickly dispatched.

And so, after an intricate game of cat and mouse with the enemy knight, the catapult finally crumbled to the ground. As the dust began to settle, Virgil stood firmly, his gaze locked on the knight. Although skeletons lack the ability to convey expressions in the traditional sense, the atmosphere was thick with the knight's palpable fury contrasted against what one could swear was a mischievous glint in Virgil's eye sockets.It was the look of triumph of someone who hadn't just won the match, but the whole game.

The moment was charged with a silent standoff, the air heavy with anticipation of the knight's next move. And as the knight, driven by wrath, charged forward with renewed determination, Virgil performed his next act of defiance—he vanished.

"Yes!" Dante exclaimed, his voice a mix of triumph and relief. "High five, my man... I mean, my skeleton," he chuckled, reaching his hand high into the air. However, Virgil could only offer what might pass for an awkward glance in the world of the skeletal—assuming skeletons could express awkwardness. With a final shake of his skull, Virgil looked down and dashed off back into the fray, leaving Dante with his hand still in the air. The psychic bond they shared, which allowed them to understand each other's thoughts and feelings, infused the moment with an added touch of humor. It was as though Virgil was communicating, "Really? Now?" without speaking a word.

Dante, however, wasn't the least bit disheartened or surprised by Virgil's non-response. Knowing Virgil's pragmatic—if not stoic—nature, he hadn't truly expected the high five to land. This small, unreciprocated gesture did nothing to dampen his spirits. After all, he was genuinely elated. They had achieved a significant victory, despite the odds. Sure, they were still up against nearly 200 level 10-plus skeleton enemies, two siege towers, a battering ram, and a formidable skeletal knight. Yet, Dante couldn't help but focus on the silver lining: the catapults were history.

In Dante's mind, the absence of catapults shifted the entire dynamic of the battlefield. It was like removing the opposing team's star player from the game—an undeniable advantage, even if the rest of the team remained. The catapults had the singular power to demolish Dante's modest fort, a testament to its dilapidated state. He harbored genuine concerns that one more volley might not just breach the walls but possibly obliterate the roof of his subterranean hideout, spelling doom for both him and the Quest at large. This underscored the critical nature of his strategy: deploying his 250-'strong' skeletal diversion, thus clearing a path for Virgil to neutralize the catapult with minimal interference. Absent the sacrificial gambit of the level 1 skeletons—or clowns, to put it more accurately—every enemy effort would concentrate on halting Virgil, leveraging both strategic formations and the formidable skeletal knight to block his approach.

Thus, everything had unfolded according to plan, a 25,000 TC outlay that proved to be a sound investment. The path was now clear for Virgil to methodically dismantle the remaining forces without pressure, irrespective of the number of attempts required. After all, Virgil's strong point was not in his physical prowess, but in the fact that he was, for all intents and purposes, immortal.

Virgil leaped from the castle walls, now for the fourth time, aiming for a strategic approach: to avoid direct confrontation with the skeletal knight for the moment, focusing instead on tacking down the lesser minions first. He chose his landing spot carefully, the furthest point from the skeletal knight, ensuring a clear path to tackle the enemy forces one by one. Remarkably, some of the level 1 skeletons remained in the fray; no more than a dozen or two, but their survival was nonetheless astonishing, even though only a couple of minutes had passed since their summoning.

The battle raged on, with the remaining level 1s playing their part in the unfolding drama. It was as though these resilient few were cast in a final, dramatic scene, steadfast in their roles until the conclusion.

To the onlooker, this ragtag group of skeletal performers might have appeared as the stars of their own tragicomedy, blissfully unaware of their impending doom yet committed to their roles with a gusto that could only be admired. It was as if they were adhering to an ancient skeletal creed: the show must go on, regardless of how close the curtain was to falling. In this bizarre circus of war, these level 1 skeletons were not just participants but unwitting entertainers, their final act a testament to the enduring spirit of even the most disposable of minions.

This unforeseen advantage played well into Virgil's strategy. Amid the chaos, Virgil navigated the battlefield with lethal precision, his focus sharpened to the task at hand. He dove into the fray, pitting himself against the skeletal hounds that roamed with feral agility, their bony jaws snapping in vain attempts to halt his advance. Each hound fell in turn, dismantled by Virgil's swift, calculated strikes that seemed to dance between the raindrops of conflict.

Next, he turned his attention to the skeletal spearmen and swordsmen, who, despite their numbers, found themselves outmatched by Virgil's prowess. He moved like a shadow among them, his staff a blur of motion that left only destruction in its wake. The spearmen, their long weapons aimed with intent, could scarcely adjust to Virgil's speed. He wove through their ranks, a specter of death for those bound to serve in undeath, their brittle bones shattering under the force of his relentless assault.

The swordsmen, perhaps more agile than their spear-wielding counterparts, fared no better. Virgil's superior Finesse, experience and technique, allowed him to anticipate and counter their strikes with an elegance that belied the brutality of the battle. Each encounter was brief, a testament to Virgil's skill and the skeletal soldiers' inherent weakness.  As each opponent fell, Virgil solidified his status not only as a skilled warrior but also as an indomitable force, using the enemy's numbers to his advantage in a demonstration of combat prowess that marked a significant turn in the siege.