A shape floated into the cavern, silent save for the distant roar of wind and thunder. Rowan stood beside his campfire, its meager warmth doing little to push back the sudden chill.
Mist thickened, coalescing into a vaguely humanoid shape that hovered just above the ground. Its head tilted ever so slightly to the side, and where its eyes should be, there were only hollow sockets.
Level: 30
Body: N/A
Core: Orange [30 Levels]
A Wraith. A physical manifestation of mana given form and purpose. This one was made from Water and Wind, meaning that if it came down to a fight, it would have a slight advantage.
Rowan hesitated, the circuit for [Firebolt] already complete, his Intent just a hairs breadth away from being imbued.
Spirits were monsters, yes—but attacking first wasn’t always the right call. They had their own strange way of looking at the world, and sometimes, curiosity overtook their predatory instincts.
The Wraith drifted closer, its form gliding just above the stone. Wisps of Mist crept out like probing fingers, slithering across the cavern floor.
Rowan raised his hand, a single spark flaring to life in his palm.
The creature halted instantly. Its magic recoiled like a spooked animal, withdrawing. Kai moved forward, his feather bristling, but Rowan quickly signaled him to step back. His familiar hesitated, but surprisingly, he listened.
For a moment, nothing happened. The Wraith stared at him with empty sockets, and Rowan met its gaze without flinching.
What’s it gonna be? he thought. Are you going to grow big and strong, or die right here?
In that next heartbeat, the Wraith slowly began drawing back, its form retreating toward the cave entrance. Rowan watched it vanish into the darkness. For a moment, he actually thought he’d managed it, but then a log in the campfire cracked from the heat, spilling its embers.
The Wraith shrieked. A high, piercing screech that sounded like hail on wet stone. Kai shrieked back, flaring his powerful wings.
“Behind!” Rowan shouted, stepping forward and launching his spell. Kai looked like he wasn’t going to listen, but as his [Firebolt] dissipated harmlessly against the creature's form, his familiar had a change of heart.
I need to help him reach Silver, Rowan thought grimly. And maybe… maybe it’s time to consider giving him a Core.
That was a big decision. One he couldnt’ afford to screw up.
He flared [Iron Will], mana rushing through his channels. Three [Burning Whips] erupted from his back in quick succession as the Wraith expanded, its Mist thickening as it surged towards Rowan. Orange Core or not, this was still a spirit—capable of drawing upon a higher-tier affinity even with its lacking advancement. Wind and Water formed its body, creating a cohesive whole.
Rowan slashed with his whips, each crack searing through the air, conjuring another [Firebolt] that he then hurled straight at its center. His whips found purchase, their Intents grappling for control.
Mist had a weight to it that Rowan’s Fire simply didn’t, and for a heartbeat, they were at a stalemate.
Then four more whips appeared, and all that changed.
They lashed out, wrapping around the creature and pulling its form together.
An ethereal wail reverberated against the cavern walls as Rowan tightened his spell. Like a serpent coiling around its prey, his magic flared and extinguished the Spirit. In moments, the wind that had been sweeping through the cavern dissipated, and the creature’s form quickly followed.
Rowan held the spells for a few moments longer, just in case.
Then he let them drop.
I should leave, was the first thought that crossed his mind. That was loud. And bright. And… surprisingly easy.
He glanced at the entrance and took a step forward, but he didn’t take another.
Fuck.
It was pitch black outside, with only the occasional bolt of lightning illuminating the sky. Rain fell and wind blew, and Rowan realized he wouldn’t be going anywhere. It was more dangerous out there than it was in here, even with whatever creatures his fight certainly drew.
“Kai, I need you in the air,” he said, rubbing a hand down his face. “Keep close to the entrance and try to alert me if you see anything coming. But don’t engage. Not unless you have to.”
The black-feathered raven flapped his wings, taking to the air and leaving the cavern for the storm outside.
Rowan summoned a mana potion from the Vault, chucking it down and flaring [Iron Will]. His reserves had grown substantially since he’d fought his first shaman, and what he’d expended now barely managed to put a dent in his mana pool. Still, it was better to be safe.
No one ever complained about having too much mana.
He could feel his Core churning as it processed the potion, pushing his recovery to something resembling useful.
Rowan spent a minute moving the fire deeper in. While it would have probably been smarter to snuff it out altogether, fighting in the dark seemed like a great way to end up dead.
With that done, he settled in and waited.
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This is going to be a long night, Rowan thought, taking a deep, steadying breath.
His fingers twitched at his side, eager to cast. Rowan had never been one to shy away from a fight, and as the din of Stormspire Heights reached his ears, he felt a smile creeping on his face.
”Let’s see what you’ve got.”
.
.
.
The next week passed in a blur—a sequence of long, monotonous moments punctuated by swift, bloody clashes. On his first night, Rowan ended up fighting another two dozen Mist Wraiths, with another dozen arriving to check out the commotion only to leave without engaging.
His second night pitted him against a colony of Mire Bats, and Kai had taken great offense to their presence. The little menace turned into a black maelstrom of mayhem, taking out the pests with a feral efficiency.
On the third night, a pack of Howlers emerged, and on the fourth, Umbral Lynxes stalked them from the darkness. This was followed by another barrage of Wraiths, and later, a troupe of Shale Stalkers.
In all, Rowan was receiving a first-hand crash course on the ecosystem of Stormspire Heights. His sleep had definitely suffered—right alongside his hygiene—but he was having an absolute blast.
Every encounter offered an opportunity to become stronger, and the sheer variety of foes only sharpened his skills. As the nights progressed, Rowan’s confidence in his abilities grew in turn. Not to the point of arrogance—he paid special attention to that—but enough for him to feel comfortable in his surroundings.
He discovered that the most effective way to take out a Wraith was to allow it to spread out before severing it in half. Similarly, he figured out that Shale Stalkers harbored a distinct aversion to threats from above.
It became almost like a game, and each day, Rowan was getting better at it. His spells grew just the slightest bit faster, and when that happened, his efficiency followed.
Mastery—as his mother used to say—was a myth. An elusive peak that every mage spent a lifetime chasing. Seemingly always in reach, yet never close enough to touch.
So Rowan made slight, incremental improvements to his various spells, fine-tuning their circuits and refining his Intents. It honestly felt like a vacation, and he found himself utterly absorbed in the process.
Kai was a steadfast companion, valiantly cheering him on while feasting on the mountain of carcasses Rowan left in his wake, though, admittedly, he more than earned them..
His little raven wasn’t so little anymore. Kai was growing stronger by the day, and Rowan felt it was only a matter of time before he advanced to Silver.
“I’m going to catch up to you one of these days, mark my words,” Rowan said, climbing over a rocky outcropping and scanning his surroundings.
The scenery hadn’t changed—vast valleys and towering mountain ranges stretched out, yet there wasn’t a settlement in sight. Rowan had hoped that his token would land him somewhere near civilization, but it seemed that wasn’t the case.
“Gods, what I wouldn’t give for a bath,” he muttered, sniffing himself. “Like a wet dog.”
Kai cawed, and Rowan got ready. This cycle had become their routine: walk, fight, rest. Though not always in that order. He knew that eventually this monotony would wear on him, but right now, Rowan had no complaints.
His gaze landed on the cavern Kai had pointed out, his gaze narrowing as he tried to make out the shape of the monster that inhabited it. A moment later, he got his answer.
Level: 25
Body: Silver V [20 Levels]
Core: Red [5 Levels]
Level: 26
Body: Silver III [16 Levels]
Core: Orange [10 Levels]
Level: 23
Body: Silver IV [18 Levels]
Core: Red [5 Levels]
The first one crawled out, spindly limbs moving with unnatural grace. It was human-sized, but that was where the resemblance ended. Its body was coated in a slick, chitinous shell, black and glistening like polished obsidian.
Eight eyes dotted its elongated face, with two fangs protruding from its maw, dripping with a viscous, greenish liquid that Rowan wanted no part of.
Behind it, two more Stoneborer Spiders followed. They moved in tandem, their bulbous abdomens scraping against the rock.
“Well, at least it’s something new,” Rowan grinned, ready to uncover what else the Heights had in store for him.
.
.
.
Another few days passed, and Rowan found himself growing worried. Not because of the monsters he encountered, those he took care of with relative ease, but because of something he couldn’t quite explain.
He’d expected to run into at least one Gold-rank threat, yet they were nowhere to be found.
Rowan had an inkling as to why that was, but he didn’t voice it.
The number of Wraiths visiting him increased each night, yet the frequency of their attacks strangely grew smaller. They would mill around him for a few minutes, extending their Mist into the caverns he occupied in what almost seemed like a greeting. In response, Rowan returned gentle [Gusts], which seemed enough to placate the Spirits.
Later that night, a massive storm tore through the Heights. Rain pelted the ground as gusting winds threatened to snuff out Rowan’s carefully maintained fire. He kept it going, having learned his lesson a few days prior about what happened if he let darkness descend.
Kai huddled close, nestling in his lap and seeking warmth.
“That's a big one, huh?” Rowan muttered as he lightly stroked his feathers.
Kai trilled sleepily.
“Gods, I hope it passes,” Rowan said, glancing at the cave entrance, listening to the booming thunder as it echoed off the mountain ranges. “If I have to spend another day walking through a rainstorm, I’m going to strangle someone.”
His familiar whacked him with a wing, and Rowan got back to scratching.
Minutes passed, then hours, yet Rowan still couldn’t sleep.
Something nagged at him—a persistent itch in the back of his mind that wouldn’t let him rest. Every time he closed his eyes, a voice warned him that something was coming, and Rowan had learned to trust his instincts.
Kai didn’t seem to have the same problem. The little menace was fast asleep, twitching occasionally like he was lost in a pleasant dream. Rowan let him rest. Whatever it was, it would come, or it wouldn’t. Kai being awake wouldn’t change it.
So Rowan settled in, returning to his vigil.
As the hours passed, the night seemed to grow heavier. The darkness deeper. A weight settled on his shoulders, lightning flashing and thunder booming.
“It’s louder than before,” Rowan murmured, frowning. “Not just louder—closer.”
Without waking him, Rowan picked up his familiar and laid him on the sleeping bag. Then he moved toward the cave entrance, his hands shaking slightly as a vague shape emerged in the distance.
High above, a concentrated storm slowly traversed the sky, causing his heartbeat to quicken and his palms to grow sweaty.
“There’s no way,” Rowan whispered, his tone awed at the sight.
Without thinking, he scanned it.
Level: 100
Body: N/A
Core: Green [100 Levels]
The Storm Elemental suddenly halted, a booming peal of thunder echoing across the Heights. Then, with deliberate slowness that contrasted sharply with the rapid beating of Rowan’s heart, it turned, looking straight towards him.
