Pale monsters gathered near several piles of bones of a giant deer. It seems that the deer tried something - four dead monsters were lying besides it.The leader was a slightly larger monster with a rusty sword who commanded the others in their language. First, he wanted the best cuts of meat. He drooled as he looked at the deer moving around.Just as he was about to dig in, a blue bolt of magic flew through the air and struck the blade of his sword. The leader looked taken aback and stepped back for a moment.The other monsters got scared and started to slash the air with their old rusty swords. Even more blue bolts came down, one of which struck one of them dead.Because one of them was smarter than the other three, the leader hid behind trees. He saw who was behind this – a figure clad in black robes standing on the cliff overlooking the forest.The figure aimed a peculiar device and fired another blue beam. The leader managed to avoid the strike, but it caught him on the shoulder,
Caster examined the magesmith’s hammer he was using and frowned. The tool was wearing down quickly. Magesmithing involved channeling mana into the hammer, which slowly weakened the tool until it started to crumble.The hammer Caster was using was one he made himself. Creating his own smithing tools was good practice, but the tools he produced needed to be more adequate. Magesmithing was much harder than scribing, which mainly required good mana control. While his high dexterity helped a little with the crafting process, his low strength was holding him back. He tired quickly, and his hands shook if he hammered for too long.Now, his stamina was drained, but he had managed to repair his magical weapon. Fortunately, stamina recovered faster than mana, so he was ready to continue after five or ten minutes. The clanging sounds filled the night air, and Caster knew he had to hurry before his neighbors complained about the noise again.While Caster worked on his weapons and items, the rest
The thieves crept into the workshop, scanning the space filled with rough iron tools and items that seemed worthless. They had hoped to find something valuable, but it appeared the craftsman was just an amateur.“Doesn’t look like much, does it?” one of the thieves muttered, frowning as he kicked aside a rusty hammer.The leader of the group motioned for one of his men to proceed. “Stop complaining. Go check the room where the target’s supposed to be,” he ordered in a hushed tone.The thief nodded and cautiously made his way to the room where their target was believed to be. The door was unlocked, so he carefully opened it, using his skills to ensure it didn’t creak. “Piece of cake,” he whispered to himself.Inside they saw a bed with what seemed like a person sleeping under the covers. The thief at the front drew a curved dagger, ready to strike. “This’ll be over quick,” he muttered with a smirk. The leader stayed by the door, prepared to block any escape, though he didn’t think it
There was a lot of noise in Lowfield. In the middle of the night, a loud explosion broke the quiet, waking everyone up. The city guards, as usual, showed up late, their armor clinking as they rushed down the streets.One guard, a big man with a scruffy beard, glanced at his partner as they neared the scene. "You think it’s another alchemist's lab blowing up?" he asked, frowning at the smoke coming from one of the warehouse windows.“Probably,” his partner answered, shrugging. “They’re always doing things without the right permits. Never ends well.”But what they found wasn’t what they expected. The guards froze, staring at a dead body lying on the ground. Next to it stood a young man wearing a dark robe, his face hidden by his hood. Nearby was another man, still alive but in terrible shape—tied up, with a rag stuffed in his burnt mouth, and his arm twisted badly.The younger guard let out a low whistle. “Well, this is different. Looks like we’ve got a couple of rogues here.”“Took you
“Caster? Did something happen to him? Is he dead?” The demon's voice was low, his eyes narrowing in concern. When this man was involved, death usually followed close behind. It wasn’t hard to imagine that the boy might have gotten into trouble.“No, not him,” Chris replied, shaking his head. “But someone did die because of him…”The demon’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Caster killed someone? You’re serious?”Chris nodded and explained, “Caster took down a tier 2 thief, someone much stronger than he should be able to handle. And that’s not all—he caught another thief who was almost as strong as a top steel-level adventurer. That’s not easy, especially for a kid his age.”The demon whistled softly. “And he’s only twelve, isn’t he? That’s impressive, even for him. He’s been learning spells, asking me for scrolls. But to take down a rogue like that?”Chris allowed himself a small smile. “Looks like the boy’s picking up more than just enchanting from those scrolls. It’s impressive, but also
He gave a polite bow, his smirk barely hidden. Slightly over 180 cm tall, the man had a lean, toned frame. As a moon elf, his silver hair and brownish skin were lighter than Chris’s, with golden eyes contrasting sharply against Chris’s silver ones.“We have work to do,” he said sharply. “We’re heading to the guild. Get dressed and take this seriously.”He gave Chris a disapproving look since Chris wasn’t yet in his battle gear. Caleb’s smile turned into a serious frown; it was time to stop enjoying themselves and focus on the task.“Always so serious. Fine, just give me a minute,” Chris said, rolling his eyes as he began to gear up.They left the brothel and headed to a dark alley. Caleb’s figure, like Chris’s, faded into the shadows. Soon, they were running side by side, with Chris’s face covered by a hood and mask, his gear similar to Caleb’s.Chris’s armor was black leather with magical engravings, showing it was enchanted. He carried two long, curved short swords. They moved quick
Winterfell's thieves guild was infamous for its underground hideout, tucked away with other shady businesses. Only those with a specific set of skills, like thieves or bandits, could find and access it.Thieves were the sneaky type, skilled at pickpocketing and slipping in and out of places unnoticed. Bandits, on the other hand, were more like rough warriors, relying on strength and dirty tactics. These classes were earned through actions like stealing, robbing, or even killing.Inside the guild, there was always a lot of activity around the notice board. Here, members could take on different jobs, from simple tasks like taking something from someone’s home to more dangerous missions like assassination or violent robberies where no witnesses were allowed to live.“Remember that job last month? The one where we had to take out the entire family, no survivors,” one thief mentioned as he looked at the board.“Yeah, paid well. The old guild master wouldn’t have allowed it though,” another
The two thieves bolted as soon as they saw their leader’s body shoot out of the window, impaled by the green arrow.Jackson’s eyes narrowed as he questioned the two frightened thieves. “Are you sure it was a green arrow?” he asked, his voice filled with suspicion.The taller thief nodded quickly. “Y-Yes, boss! I swear it was a green arrow! But... it could have come from a scroll too! We didn’t see anyone cast it, just that arrow—out of nowhere!”Jackson drummed his fingers on the desk, deep in thought. “A high-level mage could have done this, or maybe someone used a scroll. Either way, it’s someone way above our level.”The shorter thief, still shaking, added, “Boss, we didn’t know anything about this. We thought it was just a regular job!”Jackson sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I believe you. You two just got unlucky. Now get out of here.”The thieves shared a quick look of relief and rushed out the door, eager to put as much distance between themselves and the mess as possibl
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