[Perception] works in spades to find the idiot charging towards me beforehand. [Harden], even armorless, is enough to make sure his charging attack doesn’t do more than cause a gust of wind to ruffle my hoodie.

“I really can’t catch a break,” I mutter. Random surprise attacks seem to be on the menu these days, and today happens to be a double-decker shitstorm full of them. “I’m not in the mood. Go away.”

The advice goes over the kid’s head. Round two commences with as much effect as the first attempt. He tries, fails, and considers a new method of approach.

[Living Shadow] itches to cast [Suppression] to put a stop to things from where it wriggles in my shadow, but I reassure the concerned creature. This might be a good chance to blow off some steam, though I don’t want Sammy getting too far out of range.

I’ve seen firsthand what the monkeys can do when they get a good surprise attack in, and as much as she might diss endurance builds, her lack of prioritization of her own health worries me.

“Last chance, guy,” I warn, equipping my greatsword. I don’t even bother with my armor, since it won’t be unnecessary. If this guy had a stronger attack than the one he used, his temperament tells me he would’ve used it already.

Hopefully. I could be completely wrong, not that I’m worried. I did invest in endurance.

“Screw you!” the guy screams, charging towards me. At this rate, he’ll be the reason we’re surrounded by monkeys in the near future.

Not that I’m complaining. If he turns out to be a poor punching bag, it’ll mean I have more than a few targets to vent some frustration out on.

“Fine. Have it your way.” I raise my greatsword. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

[Dash] cuts through the space between us, and I slam a foot into his extended shield. Even without a skill activation, he goes flying away and slams into a tree. His fall is smooth, and he catches himself in a roll, then springs to his feet.

Kid has moves, I’ll give him that.

But my mercy is at its wit’s end, and the flat of my greatsword smacks down on his helmet, sounding like a gong. Can’t imagine that felt great, and the way he staggers away reinforces that belief.

“Hey, kid. Who the hell are you?” I call, giving him a moment to recover. “Tell me that much, and we’ll call it even, alright?”

“Screw. You!” he growls and begins to mutter something under his breath. Black tendrils spread from his veins, and his skin takes on an unhealthy pallor. Ghastly, like something straight out of a zombie horror movie. “[Vivification of the Immortal Father]!”

The power coming off the guy is to a degree I haven’t experienced before. “Huh, I can do that, too.”

[Overcharge] activates, and I can intuitively feel its pull towards a singular magic ability: [Imbue]. So I activate the effect and let a flow of raw, unadulterated power flow through my body from my chest, down my shoulder, into my wrist, and across my blade.

But that isn’t all.

Overcharge has temporarily augmented Imbue.

Imbue has increased from E-Grade to C-Grade.

Imbue has temporarily become Darkened Armament.

The shadows powering my blade take on a teal tinge and radiate a patient violence. Even the steely coloration blackens darker than night and vibrates with an overwhelming need to release the pent up, uninhibited power stored within.

“Oh, so this is what [Overcharge] does. I like it,” I say, leveling the blade towards my angsty offender. “Promise me you won’t die, guy. Would really hate to explain this to Sammy.”

“Sammy?” the guy practically snarls, proving his angst. He grins, cracking his neck as if spasming. Then he charges. “Just die!”

Calmly, I raise my sword. Like the rising guillotine, it pauses for but a moment before beginning its inescapable descent, rending the very air between us.

“No!” Sammy appears in front of me, arms outstretched in front of the charging guy. “Don’t, Wyatt!”

What is she doing?!

In the brief moment before the weight of my blade slices her in twain, I cast [Slash] to divert the attack away from all of us. The explosion of teal shadows travels in an arcing wave, slicing through trees like butter and coming to a stop far enough away that I can’t make out the result.

But that isn’t my concern right now.

“Oof,” Sammy grunts, her face cramping in pain.

She looks down at her stomach, and the tip of a sword extends from her abdomen, piercing through her robe. A splotch of blood starts to spread, and she falls to her knees, the blade wrenching free with a sickening schlick.

“Don’t… kill him…”

Her eyelids flutter closed as she buckles from the weakness of her body and her own weight, slumping forward to the ground.

“I-I d-didn’t mean to,” the guy stammers, dropping his sword and shield to the ground. They clank heavily at his feet. He falls beside Sammy, taking a limp hand in his. “Samantha? Wake up. You’re okay. It’s gonna be just fine. It has to.”

There’s no time for me to think. The result of my attack is making itself known in the form of teetering trees groaning as they begin collapsing. Not only that, I can see the stab wound in her back.

My vision is red. My body moves before my mind has a chance to catch up, else the rising panic keeps me still until Sammy draws a final breath.

Closing the space between us, I grab the guy by his neck, wrench him to the air, and throw him as far as I can muster in the direction away from the collapsing trees. I don’t watch to see the result and unequip my greatsword so I can pick Sammy up instead, princess carrying her out of the forest.

Gentle as a cool breeze and equally as swift, the landscape blurs around us. My destination clear, goal vivid, and mind blank, my feet churn dust in my wake as I speed down the path, through the town, and back into the portal to the marketplace.

Familiar enough with where I need to go, I make my way to the District full of skills and find the most expensive healing magic I can purchase. Unhesitantly, the purchase is made. With absolute focus, I set Sammy down and invoke the magic.

The words flow freely. “Bid unto thee recovery, make thy wounds heal true. Embrace this breath, so tenderly, knit thy flesh anew. [Greater Restoration]!"

A subtle warmth flows from my chest, a stark contrast to the vibrating violence of casting an [Overcharged Imbue]. An emerald vibrance glows from my hands. The soothing magic creates a thin layer over Sammy, causing her to gasp.

Visibly, the flesh does as the spell suggests and knits the flesh together. I wait with bated breath, watching the process and preparing myself to cast the spell again if need be. Something intuitively tells me I’ll have to wait some time to cast it again, but I don’t pay it much attention. I would spare no expense to make sure she’s okay.

My worry is for nothing. The glow fades from my hands, and she comes to. “Wyatt?” She looks around, blinking groggily. “Where’s Matthew? You didn’t kill him, did you?”

I can’t stop myself. “That piece of shit almost killed you, and you’re worried about whether or not I killed him?”

Her face goes pale white. “You didn’t… Did you?” She tries to push herself to her feet, but I gently hold her still. “Let me go, Wyatt. Get off of me! Tell me what happened? You better not have killed him, Wyatt, or I swear, I’ll never forgive you!”

“Shut up, and do it now,” I growl. “You’re lucky I love you, or I’d have ripped your so-called ‘friend’ apart with my bare hands for what he did to you. Do you understand me?”

“So he’s alive?” she says, calling slightly and settling back down on the ground. “Thank you.”

I stare blankly at her. “You’re something else, really.”

“Comes with the territory,” she mutters, letting out a sigh. “I walked away for a couple of minutes. What…? How…?”

Rising, I run my hands through my hair and look around. The shopkeepers are completely unbothered by us, which makes me wonder if this is a common occurrence. Probably, to be honest.

Needing another distraction from dealing with Sammy for the moment, I pull out my EID to check my status—which reminds me about the two new systems I’ve purchased: Resources and Rankings.

Name: Gaian One

Local Ranking: 53

Race: Primordial

Racial Trait 1: Adaptable Genealogy

Racial Trait 2: Duality of Order

Innate Trait: Mental Fortitude (S)

Level: 6 (16)

Class: Dark Knight

Party Role: Slayer

Stamina: 102/111 | Arcana: 37/142 | Primessence: 16/16

Strength: 13

Endurance: 24

Dexterity: 13

Intellect: 44

Wisdom: 19

Available Attributes: 0

Active: Slash (F), Harden (F), Stab (F), Suppress (B), Dash (F)

Passive: Two-Handed Swordsmanship (F), Heavy Armor Handling (F), Navigation (F), Perception (F)

Magic: Living Shadow (S), Shadow Manipulator (D), Imbue (E), Overcharge (A), Greater Restoration (B)

Order: Transference (C)

Profession Skills: Entrepreneurship (C), Gathering (D), Mining (E), Herbology (E), Butchery (E), Production (D)

Profession Items: Mining Pick (E), Herbal Shovel (E), Butcher’s Knife (E)

Equipped Items: Greatsword (F), Beginner’s Steel Platemail (F), Necklace of Endurance (E)

Merit: 100

World Coin(s): 766

That’s starting to look a bit ridiculous. I’ll need to see if there’s any way to go about condensing each section into its own little tab so I’m not bombarded with far too much information to care about each time I open my status.

Things worthy of note: I’m rank fifty-three, resources now exist on my status, and [Greater Restoration] is B-Grade and costed a thousand Coins. It’ll be nice to have, but I really would have preferred not spending all that today.

Now that I’ve had enough time to stop my blood from boiling, I’ve settled into a cold calm. Turning to Sammy, I meet her gaze and gesture towards her stomach. “None of this is a game, Sammy. This isn’t something to take casually. Understand me?”

She nods, biting the inside of her cheek. Looking away, she mutters, “Sorry about earlier. I get your point.”

“Good. Now don’t forget it,” I say, sighing.

I can’t be too mad at her. For all intents and purposes, everything feels like a game. The whole system seems designed to create a manufactured illusion of “yay, fun progress” with levels, grades, EID advancements, different systems, and so much more. It’s easy to get lost in.

“Wyatt, about Matthew…”

“Your friend needs help,” I state, [Mental Fortitude] roaring to life as dissatisfaction parades around my stomach, looping it in knots. “Serious help.”

“Will you—”

“Do you even have to ask?” What else is family for? Plus, the dude lives with her. For a moment, I think about taking her away from her comfy mansion living and maybe dropping her off with our parents. There’s no way she’ll ever agree to that, especially knowing her friend is in deep shit. “Damn.”

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s not your fault.” Mostly. Kind of, a little bit. But there’s no point in making her feel any worse than she already does. “Let’s go see if he’s able to walk.”

She rises and pins me with her more scouring glare. “You didn’t cripple him, did you? Because if you did, so help me—”

I shrug. “Not sure you’re in the position to be threatening me, little sister. Your friend is the one who stabbed you after attacking me unprovoked.”

“Wyatt!” she groans, scrunching her face in that annoyingly cute way she always does. “Be serious with me for a second. How did you get so strong? I could tell from the magic in the air your attack would’ve cut Matthew in half. Were you really going to kill him?”

I give her a thumbs up. “I made sure to tell him not to die. I think that absolves me of all responsibility.”

“Wyatt…” she groans, looking at me as if I’m the biggest idiot ever.

Pft. Like she’s one to judge me. Her taste in people is decisively a negative on the good judgment scale in my book.

She looks me up and down, then gets awfully close while looking around. Like she’s trying to ask me to divulge my deepest darkest secrets, she whispers, “Have you been working out? You look like you’ve been working out. I didn’t notice it before, but you’ve really grown a lot more, like, imposing? How? What you told me makes no sense. How are you so strong?”

“Like you said, I already told you,” I deadpan, shaking my head. “Do you even care if this Matthew guy is even alive? I feel like you have more important matters to worry about than whether or not I’ve been hitting the gym or doing pilates in my free time.”

“Right, Matthew.” Without further adieu, she begins marching off… in the wrong direction.

“This way,” I call, turning towards the aisle that would lead us away from the skills District, back to the main hall, and towards the portal.

Turning on a dime, she nods. “Right, I knew that.”

“Was just a test,” we say in unison, much to her chagrin.

“You’re so annoying sometimes,” she says, walking at a speed I’d mistake for a jog.

“Right back at you, little sister.” Following behind her, my eyes are drawn to the bloodstains, absent wound. “Why are all the women in my life so frustrating?” Little Marissa comes to mind, and I smile. “I need to bring her back something nice for being the least troublesome of the lot.”

“You coming?” Sammy calls over her shoulder.

“Unfortunately.”