As he thought about various fighting combinations, Caster finally reached his destination. The volcano puffed out black smoke intermittently, swirling into the air. The temperature increased slightly the closer he got, but it was still bearable. He’d attached a special chilling magic to his armor. “If things get too hot,” he muttered to himself, “I can lessen the burden on my body by activating it.” This magic acted like a buffing spell, lowering his mana pool by a set amount while it was active, but he trusted his instincts that it would be worth it.Moving forward, Caster noticed other adventurers milling around. Some waited for their teammates outside the entrance, while others ventured inside. A few emerged, looking worn out and weary, their faces painted with the fatigue of battle.“Hey, watch it!” shouted a rough-looking man as he bumped into Caster. The man had scratches and wounds all over his arms, clear signs of a recent encounter. “You’re not the only one trying to get in
Immediately, Caster used his debugging skill to search around the gate but was coming up empty handed. "No magic at all?" he said, scowling slightly with apparent bewilderment. Now, there was not even a hint of magic anywhere in the vicinity, and that produced a most uncomfortable sensation. He looked at some peculiar signs carved on the gate. These could be the regular enchantments he realised that there were other ways to add magic into an object- spell enchantments or seal enchantments. He bent over to look at them, half touched, half repelled, as if by some magical glass. He took a deep breath before anyone could stare at him. It was unusual for Greg to speak out loud: ‘I have to go, I have to continue,’ he said to himself. With newfound bravery he walked into the other side of the gate, a chill went through him, reminding him of all the things he’s been missing out on, all the things he has forgotten.Before them stairs went down, more steps down into the deep wearing at the ed
The dungeon air grew dense, laced with the scent of minerals and old stone, as Caster ventured deeper. The corridor walls, rough yet ancient, bore faded carvings that hinted at past adventurers or long-forgotten rituals. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the dungeon itself was watching, tracking his every step. Caster wanted this challenge exactly. It rose up the sinuses, clear and pure, and it smelled like… it felt like… another chance at treasure. His senses remained keen, remembering that whatever twist and turn brought would be something remarkable, or deadly.At times it even appeared that a chest would form, containing artifacts, weapons, or even food supplies. It was no stranger to dungeons, and he had visited many, but each one had introductions and rules, each different. The depth altered the air, making it warmer as it seemed he was going ever deeper into the volcano’s depths.Caster would swear that the ground below his feet trembled slightly. Shaking it off he moved on
Caster wished to increase his speed of reaction. “Okay,” he muttered, “I’m just gonna have to learn to better dodge and block in a real fight.” He felt the familiar weight of his sword, and tightened his grip. Through time, he’d figured out that true combat was nothing like training drills— nothing provided the same intensity as real danger, sparking his on switched instinct and motivator to evolve quicker than any drill possible.A fire slime crept forward, making a faint squelching sound as it left faint scorch marks in its wake, drawing his attention, he turned to see. The gel body rippled and pulsed and he knew this thing was gearing up for an attack. This wasn’t his first encounter with fire slimes, but he didn’t let his guard down; their blazing projectiles could still land a nasty hit. “Let’s see what you’ve got,” he whispered, eyeing the creature intently. The slime compressed its body, glowing with a fierce orange light as it charged up. Suddenly, it released a searing blo
There was strange screeching of metal scraping against hard stone, strange footsteps that ran down Caster's spines.He muttered under his breath, looking around the dark corners of the dungeon. It was a dungeon which had not been rated yet, by which I meant that it was an investigation dungeon. Dungeons in this country were given ratings based on how challenging they were to conquer. The more difficult the dungeon, the higher the rating. Some adventurers claimed that dungeons like these had a life of their own, shifting and changing to trap the unwary.Most dungeons also had nicknames. The super dungeon in the middle of the island was infamous and known as the Infernal Dragon Dungeon. The dragon dwelling within had yet to be defeated, becoming a legend among adventurers, and many speculated that even its bones were imbued with dark magic.Caster shifted in the weight of his uncoordinated brigandine armor, a reminder of his novice status. He gripped his sword and shield tightly, his
It charged at him blindly, swinging its longsword with wild abandon. The creature’s strength was quite low; it had trouble holding its weapon steady, making it easy for Caster to block the awkward blows with his shield.“Come on, is that all you’ve got?” Caster taunted, sidestepping the skeleton’s clumsy swing and grinning at its frustration.The little dance continued as Caster effortlessly dodged. “You need to try harder than that!” he called out, relishing the playful banter. The skeleton swung again, its rusty sword creaking in protest. With one last desperate effort, it struck Caster’s shield, but the weapon couldn’t handle the impact.With a loud snap, the sword broke in half and flew off, clattering against the wall.“Yes! Now that’s what I call a breakthrough!” Caster laughed, feeling a rush of adrenaline surge through him. “You really thought you could take me down?”But he knew it was time to end the training session before he got too carried away. “You have gained 2 exper
Caster knew there was a limit to how many mana stones a shield like his could hold. He couldn’t just slap ten of them on the back to meet all his mana needs.“If I do that,” he muttered, shaking his head, “the magic structure will break down. It’ll be like a short circuit, and then the whole spell will collapse.”After a moment’s hesitation, he decided to go with the lesser mana stones for this shield. “No point in risking the common ones,” he reasoned to himself. “Those could create even bigger problems.”He calculated that the limit on this steel shield was three stones. Each one significantly reduced the mana cost. “Each stone cuts the requirement by nearly 20%,” he said, nodding in satisfaction. “But that’s only for spells at the same level,” he continued, carefully placing a regular mana shield spell on the shield. “Thanks to the stones and my skills, I’ve managed to lower the cost by almost 70%.” A grin spread across his face as he thought about it. “With my high mana pool, I
Caster met them along the way quite often, which slowed down his progress. As he fought, he had to wait for them to finish before he could move on. “Hey, Caster! Need a hand?” one adventurer called out, swinging a sword at a monster.“No thanks! I’m good,” Caster replied, keeping his eyes on the battle ahead. He knew he could be accused of stealing if he forced his way through. Caster wished to avoid conflict with others, at least for now. He didn’t want to risk incurring their wrath or losing potential allies. “Once I get a silver-grade card, things will be different,” he thought. With higher levels, prestige wouldn’t be far behind, and the dynamics of encounters would shift dramatically.The level wasn’t that large; if someone knew the way, they could stroll past most dangers and quickly descend to the second level. Caster recalled hearing about hidden paths that only seasoned adventurers were aware of. These shortcuts could be the difference between life and death, especially dee
Caster was mature enough to see the world as it was. He understood that most younger folk saw it through a lens of hope and ambition, their dreams of treasure and fame setting them apart from his more grounded approach. Some were from humble beginnings: sons and daughters of farmers; young people from families that were better off but that had fallen on hard times and now were boy or girl determined to claw back some of that perceived lost respect, no matter the price."My jaw twisted into a small smirk as I imagined their wide eyes and wide, baseless plans and all they think is, ‘Get some gold, a shiny sword, you’ll be a hero.’" It was the same story, time and again: things that were often only dreams, rarely aligning with reality.Lowfield had been a deliberate choice despite what she had become. Knowing full well it wouldn’t be clear, he took the fast route but he took the fast route. The road taught him about its steep hills, its rocky passages and on occasion, the unfriendly tra
The early morning breeze bit into the cloak and the underdress at Caster’s shoulders as he walked the narrow cobblestone path into Lowfield. Today he had gotten rid of his imposing helmet and heavy armor. Dawn's fresh smell of its own earth together mingling with the familiar taste of his workshop on his clothes. He wasn’t hiding his identity, or painful silence had been left behind, today. Today was about remembering the life that kept breathing after his magesmith-tools stopped.The caravan had added liveliness to the town which reminded me of festival time, the town was waking up. Some of the faces settling onboard Caster recognised—newcomers amongst the adventurers. With fresh ambitions and none of the resolve yet tested, they walked on their own journey wide eyed and reminded him of the person he used to be. He watched the newcomers with a kind of quiet amusement, catching snippets of eager chatter about dungeons and imagined battles, bravado thick in the air.A young man, prob
Casting his small treaty of provisions, a load of stale bread crusts, some wrinkled fruits, and a hard wedge of cheese that once lived on a more hospitable broke surviving clunk to clunk. He made a gagging noise as he peered at the dried meat again and poked it with distaste. "Wouldn't it kill the fates to give me a real meal?" Just once. Something hot, even." He sneaked a look over at where a stove should be, the ones that made his mouth water when a hearty stew bubbled away. For a moment he smirked, "No stove yet … maybe I could conjure a magical pan up." "Oil might be asking for a miracle."Peering out the window he squinted at the city in the early light. Carts creaked along cobbled paths and vendors hawked fresh fish and newly baked bread in the place I had walked into, even now. He’d done a lot with the house in the week that he’d been there, turning it into something livable, barely. "What the hell?' he murmured, 'Doors actually close now' he concluded feeling a bit more proud
Caster adjusted his grip and took a close look at his work, scrutinizing every line and angle of the newly crafted weapon handle. The wood was tough but carefully sanded, bearing faint, meticulous patterns he had engraved over hours of work. "Alright," he muttered, almost to himself. "Let's see if this holds up."He lowered his gaze to the small, rough-edged mana stone beside him. Its surface shimmered faintly, a testament to the raw energy that pulsed within it. With precision, he made a tiny opening at the base of the handle, using one of his tools to keep the gap just wide enough for the stone to fit snugly. Holding his breath, Caster slid the stone into place, his hand steady even as he felt the twinge of nervousness in his gut. One wrong move, one crack, and the handle would split, and the entire effort would be wasted. He exhaled, the pressure off his shoulders as the stone was secure. He picked up a little hammer and taps the opening closed, sealing the stone.Caster was co
Caster’s gaze shifted between his rough tools and the iron-cast walls around him. The dim, flickering light from a lone torch cast dancing shadows on his workbench, where the worn mace lay, waiting. Each scuff and nick in the wood handle held a tale of its own; it wasn’t just a tool but a companion, a weapon that had been through as much as he had. And here he was, weighing its life and usefulness like a weary healer judging the last pulse of an old patient.He ran his hand over the handle one last time, tracing the grains and grooves with a practiced eye. “Adding a stone’s one thing,” he muttered. “But what it needs is stability.” His fingers slid to a small crack, an old fracture that hadn’t yet spread but threatened to. “If that widens… this thing’s done.”His hands worked without thought, reaching into the assortment of stones, metals, and powders he had scavenged over time. His fingers found a small, rough mana stone, and he rolled it between his fingers, feeling its faint warm
Caster knocked metal hard on metal, the sound reverberating in the almost pitch black workshop. With every hook an aura of magical energy was discharged providing brief glimpses of light on the roughly completed stone walls. It smelled of hot metal and a low, tense buzz, which seemed to say that the room itself had tensed to watch him.Caster, still young but hardened by the trials of his craft, stood poised over his latest project: a shield, its shape still raw but which is already starting to look graceful. Though not tall and still somewhat thin, he seemed to possess good illating strength, every punch he landed being calculated. Each movement was accompanied by complex magical ripples, which Indragni had seen on the surface of the shield before a layer of runes he more or less sketched with great detail. In addition to a frown a look of intense concentration took over his face only to be interrupted the occasional lean back to examine the painting.After several more strikes, he
Caster climbed the winding stone stairs leading upward from the basement of Lamba fortress as the red rays of the morning sun spread across Lowfield. He sighed as he breathed in the crisp morning air and hours spent wading through dim and damp caverns had taken a toll on him. The bustle outside was a stark contrast to the quiet gloom below. Merchants, hawkers, and small-time dealers filled the open area, all eager to cater to the steady stream of adventurers drawn to the dungeon.“Potion for mana, sir?” called a nearby merchant, brandishing a small flask that shimmered faintly in the sunlight. Clearly, the man wasn’t going to miss any opportunity to sell.He gave her the distinct pleasure of a faint smile and a polite shake of his head. “Not today, but thanks.” The merchant glanced up as he passed saying “As he passed his gaze fell on a young boy standing beside the merchant with his hands outstretched each palm held small stones of different colors.”“Lucky charms,” the boy put out
Caster climbed the winding stairs stone leading upward from the basement of Lamba fortress as the red rays of the morning sun spread across Lowfield. He sighed as he breathed in the crisp morning air and hours spent wading through dim and damp caverns has taken a toll on him. The bustle outside was a stark contrast to the quiet gloom below. Merchants, hawkers, and small-time dealers filled the open area, all eager to cater to the steady stream of adventurers drawn to the dungeon.“Potion for mana, sir?” called a nearby merchant, brandishing a small flask that shimmered faintly in the sunlight. Clearly, the man wasn’t going to miss any opportunity to sell.He gave her the distinct pleasure of a faint smile and a polite shake of his head. “Not today, but thanks.” The merchant glanced up as he passed saying “As he passed his gaze fell on a young boy standing beside the merchant with his hands outstretched each palm held small stones of different colors.”“Lucky charms,” the boy put out
Caster met them along the way quite often, which slowed down his progress. As he fought, he had to wait for them to finish before he could move on. “Hey, Caster! Need a hand?” one adventurer called out, swinging a sword at a monster.“No thanks! I’m good,” Caster replied, keeping his eyes on the battle ahead. He knew he could be accused of stealing if he forced his way through. Caster wished to avoid conflict with others, at least for now. He didn’t want to risk incurring their wrath or losing potential allies. “Once I get a silver-grade card, things will be different,” he thought. With higher levels, prestige wouldn’t be far behind, and the dynamics of encounters would shift dramatically.The level wasn’t that large; if someone knew the way, they could stroll past most dangers and quickly descend to the second level. Caster recalled hearing about hidden paths that only seasoned adventurers were aware of. These shortcuts could be the difference between life and death, especially dee