With each attempt, he learned something. How long his mana held. Where the bottlenecks in casting speed were. How his concentration shifted depending on what he cast first. Eventually, though, a sharp wave of dizziness reminded him he was running low on fuel.
Mana Points: 45/370
“Still not enough,” Max muttered, exhaling as he plopped down on a flat rock near the edge of his shelter. While his mana pool had grown substantially—thanks to the wisdom points he’d accumulated—it was clear he was still firmly in the category of a mana-reliant fighter. And everything he did, from offense to defense, drained that resource fast.
"I’ve got to figure out how to unlock warrior skills," Max said aloud. He pulled out a mana potion, popped the cork, and chugged it with practiced ease. The familiar cooling rush spread through his limbs as his reserves began to fill.
He stood and grabbed Spitefang, its dark edge gleaming in the late afternoon light. From the pile of loot scavenged from the goblin camp, he dragged over a straw training dummy—patched up and lopsided, but serviceable.
Planting his feet, Max began to move.
Every swing was measured. Every thrust controlled. He didn’t go for speed or power, but for purpose—the way he imagined a swordsman would train in a dojo back on Earth. He focused on stance, weight transfer, the subtle twist of his hips with each slash. He didn’t want to just swing wildly. He wanted control.
Minutes became hours. Sweat soaked his shirt, and his muscles ached with fatigue. But he kept going.
His thoughts wandered with each strike. What would a warrior skill even feel like? Would it be like casting a spell? Or something else—something more primal, more instinctive?
Then, it happened.
Ding!
Warrior Skill Unlocked: Power Strike
Infuses Genesis Energy into the weapon, releasing a concussive blast on impact. Ignores standard armor and increases damage based on Strength.
Max froze mid-swing, his eyes wide.
“Hell yes!” he shouted, almost laughing as he opened his skill menu to confirm it wasn’t just a hallucination.
He tested it immediately. Lifting Spitefang high, he channeled energy into the blade—this time not mana, but something deeper. Something raw. Genesis energy. It shimmered along the weapon’s edge, pulsing faintly.
When he struck the dummy, there was a loud crack, followed by a sudden concussive shock that split the straw-filled body down the center. Bits of straw burst outward, drifting like golden snow.
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The impact wasn’t just physical. It was visceral.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about.”
He grinned, breathing hard, staring at the ruined dummy.
But Max wasn’t done. He needed to know what else this new skill could do.
He approached a nearby sapling on the edge of the clearing. Drawing back Spitefang, he activated Power Strike again and slammed it into the trunk. The result was instant and dramatic—the tree exploded in a shower of splinters, the upper half toppling backward in a loud crash.
“Okay... definitely not just for soft targets.”
Testing further, he smashed through a small boulder near the shoreline. The surface cracked and then fractured completely with a follow-up strike, chunks of stone scattering like kicked gravel.
“Armor piercing indeed.”
He even tried using Power Strike on the earth itself. The strike created a small crater, flinging dirt and loose rocks in all directions and leaving a smoldering gouge in the soil. Not exactly subtle.
Then came the real test.
Max set up a training routine: starting with a slash, then switching to his staff mid-movement to finish with a Fireball or Mana Bolt. The swap from sword to staff using his storage ring was fast, but required perfect timing. He fumbled the transition at first—either holding the sword too long or missing the grip on the staff entirely.
But repetition improved everything.
Soon, he was chaining Power Strike into Fireball in one fluid sequence—sword glowing with Genesis energy, exploding on contact, then vanishing as his staff appeared in hand, fire igniting in his palm to finish the combo.
He began experimenting with variations:
- Power Strike followed by a quick backstep and a Mana Bolt to finish a retreating enemy.
- Charging in with Mana Shield up, delivering a Power Strike, then instantly swapping to staff for a blast of fire.
- Even trying to create a feint with the staff to draw attention before swapping to sword mid-lunge.
Each attempt taught him more about his limits, his timing, and the growing synergy between his two fighting styles.
“Now that’s more like it.”
Max couldn’t help but grin. He wasn’t just learning new abilities—he was beginning to weave them together. And that, he realized, might be the key to surviving whatever came next.
As he continued practicing, Max quickly noticed a crucial flaw in his new skill. Actually—two.
The first issue came the moment he activated Power Strike. The skill didn’t fire instantly. The moment he decided to use it, Genesis Energy began channeling into the blade, causing it to pulse and shimmer with raw power. That part was expected. The problem? The charge-up process took about two full seconds.
Not long on paper—but in combat, two seconds might as well be an eternity.
And during those two seconds, Max was locked out of using any other skill or spell. If he tried to cast something mid-charge—like a Mana Shield or Fireball—the Genesis energy would immediately dissipate, canceling the entire activation.
“Figures,” Max muttered. “Can’t have it be too easy.”
The second flaw was a cooldown. After using Power Strike, there was a brief but noticeable five-second window where the skill refused to reactivate, no matter how much energy he tried pushing into his blade. It didn’t fizzle or warn him, it just... didn’t respond.
So no spamming. No wild combo chains of back-to-back Power Strikes.
Max rolled his shoulders and gave a tired sigh. “Not the end of the world,” he admitted. “But good to know before I end up staring down a giant lizard and wondering why my new skill isn’t working.”
He made a mental note to be careful with his timing. Power Strike was a heavy-hitter, no question—but it wasn’t meant to be used recklessly. It was a finisher, a moment-changer, not a bread-and-butter attack. Like most high-impact skills, it came with limitations that forced the user to think—positioning, spacing, and openings.
Still, none of it diminished how badass it felt when it landed.