Blessed Time: The Complete Series: (A LitRPG Adventure Box Set), page 22
One minute left. Micah threw his spear into the center of the circle. He needed to enchant something, and it was all he had on hand. Hopefully, it would serve as a proper medium for the massive torrent of energy he planned on drawing from the stag. He’d prefer it if his enchantment didn’t end in an explosion and singed eyebrows.
The words came easily. With a dab of blood from the stag’s injured leg on his index finger, Micah rapidly traced the necessary runes onto the haft of the spear. Another smudge of blood, and he traced the other set on the weapon’s glittering metal head.
The spell reached its crescendo just before the Onkert dissipated. Micah’s hand on the stag pulsed as he mentally reached into the core of its being. Unlike the smaller woodland creatures, it had gravity and purpose to go with its age. The temporal energy was just under the surface, clustered around the creature’s withered muscles and poorly healed wounds.
With the help of the ritual, Micah drew the energy from the stag, pouring it into the hasty runes inscribed in the animal’s blood on the spear. For a second, the blood glowed white-hot before evaporating and leaving behind intricately patterned char marks on the spear. Temporal power built in the weapon, contained for now by the ritualistic bindings he’d inscribed on it.
Then the Onkert faded, turning translucent and immaterial in the blink of an eye. The stag, partially rejuvenated by Micah’s magic, stood up and bounded out of the clearing, but he didn’t have the time to look at it. The entirety of Micah’s focus was concentrated on the small chisel in his hand. Almost in a trance, he layered inscription after inscription on the weapon as the temporal energy thrummed down its length, waiting for a mistake to release it in a fiery blast.
He worked on, blind to his surroundings, grabbing reagents from the backpack absently as the layers of enchantments on the spear deepened. Finally, with the sun low in the sky, Micah sank a full point of Moon attunement into the spear, finishing his work. Without the stag, this project would have cost him at least 5 full points, functionally crippling him as a spellcaster.
For a brief second, nothing happened. Micah cursed himself as he stared at the inert weapon. He didn’t have the spare attunement to waste on failed projects. Then, starting with the butt of the spear, his rune carvings began to glow. Slowly, greenish-gold light traced up the intricate curves and whorls until they hit the head of the spear, which burst to light in a strobe of white energy.
Micah fell back, an invisible wave of force knocking him off his feet. He stood up with a manic grin on his face, ignoring the persistent pain in his lower back, and picked up the spear. It was lighter, pulsing with latent energy.
Setting himself, he performed a simple thrust. He felt a small portion of his mana flow into the weapon and a focused jet of air shot out from it, boring a hole into a nearby tree deep enough to reveal the plant’s pale wood. It wasn’t as powerful as his Air Knife, but the enchantment gave him a ranged option while using the spear.
Walking up to the tree, Micah placed his thumb in the hole. It was still warm from the friction of the air against the tough bark, but the scar from the Wind Spike was almost deep enough to get his entire finger into it.
Micah nodded in satisfaction before taking a step backward. This time, he swung the haft of the spear horizontally at the tree, like a staff. It pulled more mana, and the weapon writhed, wrapping itself around the tree before hardening once again. Micah gave it a quick, exploratory yank, but it held firm.
Flexing his will, the spear softened, released the tree, and hardened once again into its traditional shape and length. It looked like the enchantment had been a complete success. In addition to the usual minor strengthening and sharpening runes, he’d managed to infuse the weapon with two low-tier elemental effects. Wind Spike and Vine Capture weren’t the most powerful or useful enchantments that he’d learned in his time at the Royal Academy, but they were the only two that he thought he could pull off unclassed and at his present skill level.
Of course, if he were willing to sell it, the spear would probably be worth between 12 and 20 attunement. A small fortune to someone as impoverished as Micah, but to a warrior, a weapon was their life. Adding magical utility abilities that the average Blessed soldier wouldn’t have the affinities to access except through an enchantment made enchanting a lucrative art.
Checking his status sheet, Micah smiled. Whether it was the rushed circumstances of the casting or the complexity of the enchantment itself, he’d reached 10 in the skill. Now it was only a matter of returning to his cave and utilizing the class crystal that he’d stored there. Once he had a class, he could start earning levels and unlocking his higher-tier spells. Given the liberal rewards Ankros gave for clearing dungeons and killing monsters, especially without assistance, Micah would be on track to earn back the attunement he’d spent on Enchanting in no time.
He began walking back, spear over one shoulder and a much lighter backpack slung over the other. Behind him, the sun began to dip below the horizon, spurring Micah to move faster. Even if the forest hadn’t been dangerous after dark, he needed to get home by sundown or his mother would be upset.
Really, given his mental age, it probably should have bothered Micah that his mother would still scold and ground him, but instead, he found it endearing. Having to pretend to be a child once again helped keep his focus on what truly mattered and motivated him.
Adventuring was more than watching numbers go up on his status sheet. The average people, the forsaken, and those with common blessings, they too deserved a chance to live their own lives free from the constant risk of death. Society needed people like his father just as much as it needed the “legendary heroes” of the Royal Knights.
It would be too easy to become enraptured in gaining power just for the sake of growing stronger. Some of the adventurers in the Lancers, and almost the entirety of the Golden Drakes and Royal Knights, fell into that trap. As far as Micah could tell, they only bothered with gaining levels and skills to become more powerful than their rivals.
They’d lost their way. They didn’t answer Mursa’s call to increase knowledge and learning. They didn’t follow Luxos’ command to improve society as a whole. The only god they even theoretically supported with their constant petty struggles was Ankros, and even then, their growth was more a matter of posturing than actually pitting themselves against the champions of other nations.
Micah’s thoughts were interrupted by the cold and wet tip of an animal’s muzzle pressing against his cheek. He jumped, whipping around with the spear at ready. The stag from earlier cocked its head at him in bemusement, its great antlers flashing in the orange afternoon light.
He frowned slightly, noticing that despite the animal being noticeably younger, its fur was snow-white rather than its previous brownish gray. It snorted at Micah before walking slowly toward him. Without showing any fear, it nuzzled his shoulder once again.
Micah lowered the spear and stroked its muzzle. Its fur was softer than expected, a rich white mat that tangled around his fingers. The stag stepped backward and pawed lightly at the forest soil before snorting again, shaking its head in the general direction he’d been walking.
“Fine.” Micah chuckled. “I’ll lead the way.”
He couldn’t be sure, but the stag clearly wasn’t an ordinary deer. It wasn’t an unheard-of phenomenon for an ordinary animal to receive a deity’s blessing and gain an affinity. It didn’t happen as often as with humans, elves, and the Durgh, but when it did, the blessing was usually coupled with an increase in intelligence. Either way, he wasn’t going to get rid of the stag without attacking it, and given his current lack of class, combat didn’t seem like the best choice available to him.
Finally, he reached the cave. He stepped into the cavern’s mouth, his new companion following him fairly closely. It stopped and wrinkled its nose in disgust, likely at the unappetizing scent of the caged animals inside. The stag snorted once before exiting and walking around the crag in which the cave was situated. It looked at him one more time before beginning to eat grass in disinterest.
“Fair enough.” Micah shrugged, chuckling slightly at the animal’s almost-instant dismissal of his “base.” “I didn’t pick it because it’s pretty.”
He walked inside, passing by his food stores and the cages of the raccoons and squirrels. In the bowels of the cave, he fished a burlap sack out of an alcove in the wall and removed the class crystal hidden inside. Seating himself on the hard floor of the cavern, he placed both hands on it before diving into the misty realm of whatever force governed classes.
About fifteen minutes later, he stood up, stretching some of the soreness out of his body. This time, class selection didn’t carry with it any of the drama or uncertainty. As soon as he’d heard that Thaumaturge was an option, Micah had selected it. Gaining a point of Mind, Spirit, and one point that he could assign anywhere per level was reward enough, but the noticeable increase in per-level mana growth confirmed his choice.
The class selection still burned his hands slightly, but other than that one minor setback, all that was left was to see how far this supposedly legendary class could take him.
THIRTY-ONE
SOLO? LEVELING
Micah’s Air Knife slipped under the shadow ogre’s guard, scoring a hit in the tough flesh of its torso. It bellowed its frustration at him, swinging a clawed hand at neck-level. Micah brought his spear up and willed mana into it to wrap the weapon around the ogre’s fist. His toes left the ground as he let the momentum of the attack transfer through the spear’s haft and carry him back a handful of paces, safely outside of the monster’s reach.
It dumbly looked down at its hand, the hardened wood of the spear curled around its forearm. Experimentally, it tried to punch him again, only for Micah to jump into the air once more. It cocked its head, growling at its captured arm.
Another Air Knife hit it in the face, shaving off a couple more hit points. This time, it yanked backward with its bound hand, trying to pull Micah toward it. He let go of the spear and allowed the momentum of the ogre’s action to pull it off balance. Stepping closer, he unleashed a Sonic Bolt into it at point-blank range.
It staggered and listed to the side as the spell burst its eardrums, sending the room spinning around it. Micah was well-acquainted with the feeling. Over the past couple of years, he’d been forced to use a Sonic Bolt in enclosed spaces more than once, and each time his balance just wasn’t the same until he healed himself.
As the ogre fell to the ground, he grabbed the shaft of his spear and sent a pulse of mana into it to return its shape to normal. Withdrawing the weapon, he set his feet in the first stance of the Wind Spear art and unleashed a Gale Thrust, jamming the weapon up through the chin of the disoriented ogre and into its brain.
The critical hit using the martial art did the trick, finally killing the monster. Heaving a sigh out of his aching body, Micah turned to check the status of the rest of his party. The Onkert daemon he’d summoned before entering the dungeon struggled to hold down a shadow ogre while the stag rammed its horns repeatedly into the struggling monster’s sides.
Micah frowned slightly, noting the blood oozing from a quartet of gashes on the stag’s back. Clearly, the ogre had managed to rake the deer with its claws. Mumbling the spell quietly, he cast Heal, wiping out most of his mana reserves to close up the wounds at a distance.
Cautiously, he approached the trio of creatures, waiting for an opening and then thrusting his spear into the ogre’s thigh. Even with all his strength, the weapon barely made it an inch or two past the monster’s tough skin before it was stopped dead by its densely packed muscles.
He withdrew the weapon and stabbed once more, knowing that each point of HP and drop of blood he drew from the monster would bring it one step closer to dying. Finally, the ogre weakened enough for the Onkert to pull back its torso and expose its chest and neck to the stag. The beast promptly gored the struggling ogre, removing a good portion of its throat.
The monster stubbornly clung to life, thrashing against the Onkert’s steady grip for almost a minute before blood loss claimed it. The daemon let the body slump to the floor, then casually sniffed it before losing interest.
Micah walked over to the stag and collapsed against it, exhausted. The warmth of its white fur and the steady movement of its chest as it inhaled and exhaled calmed him. Its wet nose poked into his cheek. Without looking, Micah reached up and began stroking its muzzle.
Over the last two years, the stag had become his constant companion. The week after he earned his class, it had joined him in a run through a beginner’s dungeon. Between the two of them, they’d made short work of the leaflings and pygmy dryads. As he grew in level, Micah had begun using the stag’s temporal energy to summon an Onkert, slowly restoring the animal’s youth. It might not be able to speak, but in the intervening years, it’d shared dozens of life-and-death struggles with Micah.
Between his work at Keeper Ansom’s library and his constant sojourns to the forest to level, Micah had begun to suspect that he spent more time with the stag than his parents and Esther. Still, the stag understood him.
They both wanted to grow stronger. Every time he drew temporal energy from it, Micah could feel the primal energy in its body accumulating from their adventures. It was only a matter of time before it evolved, and he couldn’t completely restrain a pang of excitement as he tried to figure out what the stag would turn into.
It wasn’t common for a blessed animal to evolve, but it wasn’t unheard of either. According to Micah’s reading, evolution was to blessed animals what levels were to the mortal races. Once the creature gained enough experience, it would enter a trance and mana would course through it, changing it on a fundamental level. Given the almost-constant fighting he and the deer had engaged in over the past two years, it made sense that the stag would evolve sooner than it otherwise might.
Two years. A bitter smile flashed across Micah’s face as he leaned back into the stag’s soft hide. He’d be turning sixteen next weekend. Then it’d be time to officially “announce” his blessing so that he could devote all of his time to leveling.
Micah still hadn’t decided what to do. His first instinct to conceal the depth of his abilities was clearly the right one. Being enslaved by the “benevolent rulers” of the Kingdom in his last timeline had more than proven that point. At the same time, he didn’t know how he could get the outside assistance he’d need to fight back against the Durgh incursion without revealing himself. Even joining a guild like the Lancers seemed problematic. He’d have to slow down his own leveling in order to avoid revealing the depth of his abilities.
Sighting, he called up his status sheet. He had time until his mana recovered, so he might as well go over his options once more.
Micah Silver
Age 15 [ERROR] / 25
Class/Level Thaumaturge 14
XP 1,740/15,000
HP 290/290
Attributes
Body 10, Agility 10, Mind 26, Spirit 25
Attunement
Moon 9 Sun 1 Night 8
Mana
Moon 103/455, Sun 159/439, Night 132/453
Affinities
Time 10
Wood 6
Tier I - Refresh 10, Mending 9, Plant Weave 9
Tier II - Augmented Mending 8, Root Spears 8
Tier III - Heal 4, Paralytic Sting 2
Air 5
Tier I - Gale 7, Air Knife 14, Air Supply 4
Tier II - Wind Shield 6, Sonic Bolt 6
Tier III - Updraft 2
Blessings
Mythic Blessing of Mursa - Blessed Return, Ageless Folio
Skills
Anatomy 7
Enchanting 11
Fishing 1
Herbalism 5
Librarian 5
Ritual Magic 16
Spear 10
-Wind Spear 7
Spellcasting 22
The increased Body and Agility had certainly helped Micah’s solo adventures, but as soon as he’d hit 10 in each of them, he’d focused the remainder of his free attribute points on Mind and Spirit. Mind increased the effectiveness of spells while decreasing their cost, but the biggest impact from the Thaumaturge class was on his mana. Every level he gained added about 26 mana to each pool, precisely 125% of his Spirit attribute.
Already, at level 14, Micah had almost as much mana as he’d had at level 20 in his previous life. Given that each point added to Spirit also retroactively adjusted the mana gained from previous levels, Micah fully expected to have the mana to cast his fifth-tier Time spell well before level 19 without having to resort to a dangerous ritual.
Still, those were just numbers. The Thaumaturge class made Micah much more powerful than any of his peers, but it was still far from sufficient if he planned on challenging a being of true power.
On the horizon, the Durgh incursion lay like an ink stain, spreading ever closer to the present as each grain of sand passed through the proverbial hourglass. In spite of his efforts, they represented an insurmountable obstacle. Unless Micah revealed himself and surrendered his freedom to garner the attention of the Royal Knights, he had no way of beating them.
Sighing, Micah stood up, the stag snorting behind him at being disturbed by his movements. His mana had recovered enough for another fight, and he only had a couple hours left on the Onkert’s summon. Clearing the boss room without the daemon was a laughable prospect, meaning he’d have to hurry if he wanted to make it all the way through the dungeon. Any dawdling and he risked losing out on the bonus XP and gear from the boss fight.
