Sunset painted Blackmoss Forest a soft red hue. The leaves swayed in a gentle breeze and glistened in the light. Among the trees, Royal Moths proceeded with an incessant buzz, and in the thick bushes, rodents and moles were scurrying for their lives. For these tiny monsters, it was another chapter in a predestined fight for survival, but for humans, standing on the high ground of civilization and gazing down in boredom, it was a calm and peaceful Cromish evening. Fate gave each a distinct place in life. And somewhere on the great chart of things, in a circle of his own, there was Vance Wolfe.

  He gasped and opened his eyes. For a whole minute, he continued to pant and cough, like a diver who had stayed underwater for too long, or a marathoner who had just crossed the finish line. When his breathing stabilized, he raised himself off the ground and felt for his head. It was there. It was connected to the rest of his body, and the blood was flowing to his brain again. He sighed in unimaginable relief. Then, with a quick look around him, he realized that he was alone at the forest shrine. Shannon and her undead were gone; the fickle Honeydew Flies had become invisible again; Revival and Decay could no longer torment him with promises or threats. Normalcy. Normalcy at last.

  I’m back, Cromsville. Vance sighed again in relief.

  So … One Class Effect replaces the other.

  Vance sat down on the ground to pay his respects to the shrine of Thurvik. After he crossed his legs, he placed the Staff of Galvani next to him and cleared his mind. I fulfilled all the conditions, so it’s finally time. He lowered his head a little in respect and remained frozen in that solemn position. I want to claim my Class Ascension rewards. He watched the enshrined Teneb Rose with eagerness. Cromsville bustled far away. The rodents scrambled fast nearby. The sun died. The wind mourned. Then, at a moment of happiness after strife, of triumph after hardship, of harvest after drought, the forest clearing transformed, with the expected overflow of Mana, and he finally heard the long-awaited response.

  “You are back,” a female voice said. “How was the hunt, Adventurer Slayer?”

  Vance said nothing, and even his thoughts provided no answer.

  “Many are silent upon their return,” the voice continued. “But even if words have failed you, your new powers will speak on your behalf.”

  Vance felt something strange flowing through his body. Was it magic? Was it Mana? Or was it something more elementary? His muscles felt stronger. His mind felt clearer. His Middleriftian journey translated into lessons learned, and his mistakes into guideposts to his future. Never become overdependent. Never trust a punitive justice. Never let your ambition build thunder-castles in the sky. The physical and mental exhaustion were washed away as if by torrential rain. Then he finally received the messages detailing his rewards. One by one, they echoed through his consciousness. And the pauses between them gave him a chance to analyze and understand their contents.

  Your Skill, Spectral Execution, has evolved:

  So … a Skill evolution to deal with pesky crowds. Vance smiled a little. This new teleportation mode, Modus Impetuous, gave him a chance to jump from one enemy to the next and deliver a series of Spectral Executions in no time. The only problem is that I don’t have enough MP to use it effectively. He reexamined the details of his evolved Skill. Let’s say I’m fighting a group of adventurers. My first execution will cost 800 MP. The next will cost 400. The next 200. And so on until the chain is broken. He laughed. This is crazy … 1400 MP to take down three mediocre enemies. It was an extravagant cost, unpayable at his current level, especially since his max MP was only 860.

  I’ll need to level up a lot more before I can implement this combat style. He nodded as if in agreement with his thoughts. But there’s good potential overall. He started to do the math. Since the Skill cost is halved every time, my nth Spectral Execution requires 800/2(n-1) MP. In other words, the cost is decreasing exponentially. Such an exponential decrease meant that the price for the 11th execution was less than 1 MP. I won’t be able to maintain the kill combo against powerful enemies, so I won’t even dream of reaching the 11th execution in a critical situation. He dismissed the fantasy right away. But against weak targets, like beginners or slimes, I will eventually be able to deliver as many executions as I want.

  (To be exact, given that the kill combo remains unbroken, the total cost of infinite executions converges to 1600 MP. Infinite executions … Another asinine assassin fantasy. Better focus on the next reward.)

  You have unlocked a new Skill:

  Dipteran Terror? Vance repeated the name of the Skill. In other words, Fear of the Honeydew Flies. Since he had been haunted by the flies for such a long time, it seemed that some of their powers had rubbed off on him. I got tortured by nightmares first-hand. Now I get to torture others. Lovely. He began to think about the proper uses for this Skill. I can isolate an enemy and lure them to a setting where I’ll have the advantage. I will transform into “the creature they fear the most,” so I might be able to break their spirit. He remembered the masked brute from Shannon’s nightmare. And this transformation might actually help me conceal my real Skill set … It can trick people into thinking that I have a different Class. He chuckled. At the very least, some might jump to the conclusion that I’m just a Trickster. There was a lot of fun to be had with this new Skill, but there was also a lot of work and experimentation to be done. All in due time.

  Your Perk, Unappetizing, has progressed into:

  I get to keep the effects of Unappetizing, and I also unlock these new mechanics relating to goblins. Vance felt the weight of his reward. I can recruit goblins to fight for me. The description doesn’t say how, but I’ll surely find a way. He paused. The real question is: do I want to go down this path? Do I want to involve myself more in the goblin world? Taking care of Timathor was one thing, but having a claim to power and challenging other Goblin Chiefs was another. I know very little about goblins. Most of my knowledge … if I can call it “knowledge” … comes from adventurer manuals and human stereotypes. And of course, the rest came from the desperate pleadings of a mummified solar elf.

  Without enough info, I might make new enemies among the Goblin Chiefs and Shamans. And I don’t want to be persecuted outside cities too. It would be terrible for him to lose the safety of Blackmoss Forest—the safety of his home. Plus, if I build a large tribe of goblins right now, how will I find the resources to feed them? How will I control them? How will I prevent them from raiding human settlements and leading the Church of Amirani back to me? He decided not to rush things. It’s good to have this Perk in my arsenal, but it’s too early to explore its full potential. An “opportunity” that presents itself too soon is no opportunity at all. I’ll focus on training Timathor and learning the goblin language for now.

  You have unlocked a new Class Ability:

  10 slimes at my disposal? Vance chuckled, feeling some irony at play. I don’t think they could do much in real combat, but they can serve as a good distraction. He remembered how tenacious Wasserstein had been and wished the reward had included it as a blueprint; but some wishes just go unanswered. Oh well, Wasserstein was a one-time deal. He sighed. Normal slimes are fine, I guess … I can always pretend that they’re running after me to show others how helpless I am. He chuckled again. How many adventurers are gonna rush to save this damned-sel in distress? The thought alone made him feel like an old-school villain. Maybe I should work on an evil laugh or something.

  You have unlocked a new Class Ability:

  This formalizes my relationship with the parasites. Vance paid close attention to his current Manotic Mastery level. 84% … Thanks to Pamela. All those hours of quiet meditation were building this number up. And I must’ve gotten an extra boost when I defeated the Spirit of Rebellion. Although his time in Stonethorn Cave had been far from pleasant, he reflected on it as the memory of an achievement. As long as I keep the mastery level high, I get to see the parasite stats, and I can even use their Skills. He remembered how he defeated the Galvanic slugs—the way his claws elongated, the magmatic heat that erupted from them, the grime that overflowed. I was using a parasite Skill without knowing … Magmatic Overdrive.

  You have unlocked a new Class Ability:

  So … These are the laws that governed Galvani’s fate. Vance remembered the events that had taken place in Rocca Galeazzi, and he started to relate them to his own future as the Heir to the Galvanic Throne. As long as I win battles, the Golden Jar will increase in size, and I will be able to revive more creatures to serve me. Once I start losing, however, the Golden Swarm will keep growing. The golden butterflies … They’ll start appearing. They’ll look for a new savior … a savior who can kill me and claim the Anima Elettrica anew. Vance laughed. It’s a vicious cycle. Now that he had this dark power, there was no escape from these double-edged mechanics. I have to be extra careful … And I have to monitor how much the Golden Jar will shrink and grow. The rates might not be constant.

  But the Golden Swarm wasn’t the only thorn in his side. There’s also the fact that the raised creatures retain their free will. How would he keep them under control? How would he tempt them to join his side? Galvani had his big narrative about Revival and Decay and the third choice … But none of this is relevant here in the mortal world. He felt a little frustrated. Should I limit my use of the Anima Elettrica? Should I use it only to revive my allies? Perhaps it was the most prudent choice—but it was also the most boring one. No … There is a lot of potential in this power, and I shouldn’t limit myself like this. He took a deep breath. I’ll find a way. It won’t be easy, but I’ll spin as many narratives as I need … And I’ll use the Anima Elettrica to its fullest potential.

  Perks

  Class Abilities

  Class Effects

  “May your strength be a curse upon humanity.”

  ***

  The walk home was calm and relaxing. After he summoned the poised Didier and deposited his Middleriftian items, Vance strolled through the forest toward the ruins of the Seventh Moon Temple. Dry leaves broke under his feet. Was he thinking about what had happened to Shannon? Was he planning for his future and analyzing his new powers? No, like the nightly forest path, his mind was calm; his thoughts were silent; and he had a strange warm feeling, perhaps close to nostalgia or homesickness. He wanted to draw water from his well, to cook over his firepit, and to have another nonsense talk with Timathor.

  Passing through thick shrubs, he finally saw the ancient ruins of the Moon Temple—home sweet home. It was exactly the same as he had left it, or at least its outer appearance hadn’t changed. He passed by his firepit—full of soot and ash—before he arrived at the door to the worship hall. As soon as he pushed it open, he heard a loud noise from inside: “Vance! Ow-shahshah-Vance!” In a matter of seconds, he found Timathor jumping around him with a wide smile on its little face. The happiness of the little goblin was unmatched. It continued to dance and shout words that Vance couldn’t understand yet. Then it pulled him by the hand and led him to his underground room.

  He had no idea what was up, yet he couldn’t help but smile as he followed his little companion. He hadn’t received such a warm welcome in a very long time, and there was authentic happiness on Timathor’s face. “Where are you taking me, little buddy?” Vance laughed. But Timathor continued to pull him with excitement. A few moments later, they arrived at a corner of the underground room. Vance had left this corner empty, but now there were bones—rodent, mole, and even human ribs. It was a morbid pile, but because Vance had learned a little about goblins, he knew that this stack was actually an expression of Timathor’s respect and admiration.

  “Thank you, little buddy,” he smiled, petting the little goblin. “I guess you’ve been going on your own adventures while I was away. You even defeated a few humans. Good job.”

  “Gujaa?” Timathor said.

  “How do I express this?” Vance paused to think before he said, “Hinjaoor.”

  Timathor’s eyes brightened, and it shouted, “Hinjaoor! Hinjaoor! Hinjaoor!”

  Vance laughed and fetched a spare monstroscope from his storage. He sat on the bed and took a look at Timathor. Level 24. So … a growth of 3 levels. It wasn’t bad progress, since Timathor had been alone all this time. In fact, Vance felt proud that the goblin was able to win battles on its own. He managed to sneak past the Royal Moths, defeat enemies, and drag their bones back here. Maybe his small body helped him find hiding places along the way, but that doesn’t discredit his achievement. Vance lowered the monstroscope and smiled with warmth. Just like me, Timathor survived this hard time … and it’s only one more level until his own Class Ascension, if goblins have one.

  The prospect was quite exciting, but when the two words, “Class Ascension,” slipped back into Vance’s thoughts, he couldn’t help but remember Middlerift again. He held his head as if he had the worst headache. He felt some difficulty breathing. He almost shivered and recoiled. For the first time, tears began to well in his eyes. Why was he having this reaction this late? He had been fine earlier at the shrine of Thurvik: he had examined his new powers with nothing but pragmatic calmness. And yet here he was again—struggling and failing to hold back meaningless tears. They were indeed about to slide down his cheeks, but then Timathor pulled at his arm and climbed on his back.

  “Vance! Kvu-ghakra-hee?” the little goblin said.

  The words were meaningless to Vance, but he started to laugh when he felt the goblin sitting on his shoulders. He remembered the night they walked back home together like this. And this memory released him from the clasp of the others. He wiped his eyes and began to calm down. Because he didn’t move, Timathor eventually jumped off his shoulders and ran around him thrice. Then the little goblin stopped and stared—at Vance’s feet, then at his face, then at the rest of his body. Was it surprised by the parasites, or was it simply expressing normal curiosity? It was a mystery what went on inside the goblin brain, but the goblin lips soon gave a valuable hint.

  “Vance … Egre-akra-ohrajimz?” Timathor said, a bit reluctantly.

  Ohrajimz? I know this word. Vance stood up with hints of recovery, fetched his Timathese dictionary, and searched for a meaning. “ ‘Clothes’?” he said and paused for a moment. Then he realized what the little rascal was on about. He raced to the mirror and took the first look at himself in a very long time. Oh no. There he stood, covered in dirt, encrusted by dry mud, reeking with an awful stench. And his clothes had been transformed into worn-out rags. They were torn, decayed, destroyed. I guess this is the true damage Middlerift has done. He took them off and decided to start taking care of himself. The ascension had rid him of his sleepiness and exhaustion, but there was still much more to do.

  As Ezran clocks ticked through the hours of the night, he showered with cold but refreshing water; cleaned his poor room from the aftermath of Typhoon Timathor; checked his storage to make sure no valuables were lost; and finally cooked a feast for the goblin, the parasites, and himself. It was a rather humble celebration of his return—humble but not lonely, because Timathor was there to share the joy. Salt-preserved meat was on the menu, and mouths began to water. Owing to the skill of the chef, the final dish was a grilled delicacy from fine Engelian cuisine. Two plates were served, and the late-night meal began, with smoke rising from the firepit into the starry sky.

  “A lot has happened since we last met, Timathor,” Vance said, between bites.

  “Vance-mush-jihqaam!” Timathor said, with a full mouth.

  “It’s nice to be back here … back to normal life.”

  “Vance-fijha-nijgkanya!”

  “We’re not having the same conversation, are we?” Vance laughed. Then he pulled Timathor close and ruffled its few silver hairs. As the goblin laughed and tried to escape, he continued, “I don’t know how to say this … But I hope you understand it somehow … I’m happy you’re here with me, Timathor.” Without understanding the meaning of these words, the goblin slipped out of Vance’s clasp and returned to its delicious meal. It felt like a rejection, but Vance only laughed and said, “Eat well, little buddy. Eat and rest and play. We’re taking a couple of weeks off. Then we’ll have a lot to do … Lots of money to make … Lots of adventurers to kill … Cromsville has been far too peaceful in my absence, don’t you think?”

  Timathor grinned. Then there was the first light of day.