It was during one of these final lulls that the older man finally spoke. “So... how’s your growth?” Gelrock’s voice was steady but edged with curiosity.
Cheese shrugged, pulling up his status menu. The flashing screens had been little more than an afterthought throughout the day, a luxury there hadn’t been time for until now.
Name: Cheese
Age: 29
Soul Coins (SC): 1
Faith Coins (FC): 524
Displayed Title: Branded Heretic (Locked)
Displayed Skill: Expert [Axe (Common) 64] (Locked)
Claimable Rewards: Locked
Quests:
Clear Out the Riffraff – 132 / 30,126 invaders remaining
Closest invader: 1005 kilometers north-northeast.
Clear Out the Trash (Optional) – Kill the incursion leaders to end the quest early.
Nearest leader: 1005 kilometers east. 1/6 leaders remain.
Skills:
- [Axe (Common) 64]
- [Spiritual Manipulation (Rare) 16]
- [Spiritual Resistance (Legendary) 15]
- [Cooking (Common) 14]
- [Leadership (Uncommon) 12]
...
Abilities:
- [Cleave (Rare) 40]
- [Spiritual Binding (Unique) 40]
- [Throwing (Uncommon) 25]
- [Observe (Epic) 18]
His growth was staggering. Cheese had started the day as a journeyman, and now—somehow—he was closing in on the mid-ranks of an expert. It had slowed as the battle wore on, though he knew that had more to do with the quality of the opponents than any lack of effort on his part.
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He read the numbers aloud to Gelrock, who chewed thoughtfully on a strip of dried meat. “Hmmm,” the older warrior muttered. “Unusual. Even with the effects of my skills.”
“Stacking buffs?” Cheese asked around his own tough bite of meat. The women had left, so it was all dried rations now. No more baths and hot food while the men were fighting on the walls.
“Aye. My teaching skills, the system integration—you’ve seen how inflated everything is. Normally they wouldn’t multiply like this, but somehow they’re compounding. And yet...” Gelrock waved a calloused hand toward the men at the wall. “For them, it’s just a slight boost. You? You’re a damned anomaly.”
Cheese frowned. “Might be the tea,” he said after a pause. “After the Nekomata fight, my father made it for me. Said it’d help my soul grow and repair from the damage, But I didn't need it. I healed on my own, and then drank it after.”
Gelrock’s eyes narrowed. “Tea?” he echoed. “By itself? No. But if you mix it with the buffs you’re under, plus... who knows what else in this mess—then maybe. A recipe for chaos.”
Cheese turned his hands over, studying the dried blood and powder streaked across his skin. “Well, whatever it is, I can feel it slowing.”
“Slowing?” Gelrock’s sudden bark of laughter startled him. “Boy, in one day you’ve outstripped the highest levels any human has ever achieved on this cursed planet. Slowing, he says. No—what’s happening is the enemies are beneath you now. They’re not testing you.”
Cheese smiled faintly. “What about you? How’s your growth?”
Gelrock shrugged. “Trailing you. Not by much. I made sure to work all my skills during the fight. Kept the pace steady. What worries me more are the archers.”
Cheese nodded grimly. “We’re out of arrows.”
“That, and the bodies.”
Torv approached then, bloodied and streaked with black powder like the rest of them. He’d been at the wall all day, rallying men and fighting alongside them. His missing hand had hardly slowed the bannerman at all.
“The last orc’s down, Bladesman,” he reported, breath ragged. “They’ve sounded the retreat. The humans, the goblins... even the lizards.”
Cheese’s brow furrowed. The black powdery substance coated Torv’s skin and armor in thick streaks, clinging like ash. That acrid stench—rotten eggs and bile—had been lingering since the first rocks hit the wall, but it wasn’t until now, in the quiet aftermath, that Cheese had fully registered it. The powder was everywhere, strewn through the camp like dust.
“Why?” Cheese muttered aloud. The goblins weren’t stupid. They’d proved that when they outmaneuvered Fairhaven. Yet here they were, throwing themselves against the wall in droves, choking the gate with their dead. What were they playing at?
“Doesn’t matter why,” Gelrock said, his voice firm. “What comes, comes.”
Cheese exhaled sharply. “Fine. Close the gate and—”
Torv’s expression stopped him mid-sentence. A shadow flickered across the bannerman’s face, discomfort plain.
“Let me guess,” Cheese said, his voice dry.
Torv shifted. “Orders already went out. I’m just reporting.”
Cheese smirked, nodding. At least someone else was thinking ahead. The camp felt eerily quiet now, only the crackle of fires and distant cries breaking the stillness.
Then it happened.
A hiss split the air.
Cheese turned sharply, catching sight of the flame—a single, searing ember trailing through the darkened sky, it's tail stark against the smog-choked clouds.
A flaming arrow.
It arced high, twisting lazily above the wall.
And below, the camp was littered with the acrid black powder.
For a single, breathless moment, everything was still as Cheese felt an inexplicable danger. It was just one arrow, but for some reason, it felt as if that single arrow was the most important thing in the world
Then—