So say sleeping is like ti travel. You close your eyes at the present, then poof, when you open them, you’re in the future.
Percival liked that analogy. Even more now given that he had actually ti traveled, albeit to the past.
It was the next morning, Percival was mained seated on his bed. His body felt alive again, his bones strong, his eyes wide apart.
Even with the Power Up, the pulling need for sleep had kept him distraught. Now, finally, he was completely whole, awake.
The room around him watched him quietly.
That, more than anything, was what he needed.
After the events of yesterday, he had to think about things; to prepare for the future.
By will, he summoned his interface.
The translucent blue panes unfolded smoothly, their familiar glow steady and obedient. At first, the animation showed blue and silver panes conjoined in the center, but depending on which Class he focused on, the color took center stage.
His interface turned blue.
He rembered what he had promised himself about spending his Skill Points. With a Demon Gate on the horizon, that was even more necessary than before.
⸢Skill Points: 32⸥
Even now, it felt excessive.
In both his lives, Skill Points had always been scarce—sothing hoarded, sothing spent only after days of deliberation.
Having this many at once was a rare kind of freedom, but also a quiet trap. Power was easiest to waste when it ca too quickly.
Percival liked to believe he knew how to manage his resources. He respected power too. Without it, anyone could be betrayed.
But then again, betrayal didn’t necessarily discriminate based on strength.
He exhaled and opened his Skill Tree.
The Necromancer branch expanded before him, familiar nodes branching outward like veins in a corpse-map.
He ignored the Skills he already possessed and focused on the available ones, his gaze sharpening as he read each description carefully.
Two stood out imdiately—ones he had planned for long before the Gate World.
⸢Skill: Spectral Bind⸥
⸢Description: Manifest entropy-forged spectral chains that bind a target. While bound, chains siphon Mana and stamina-based energy over ti. Effectiveness scales with target resistance and current Mana Pool⸥
⸢Cost: 4 Skill Points⸥ ⸢B-Grade⸥
Percival narrowed his eyes with interest. Now this was a Skill he knew for certain would prove invaluable.
Control. Suppression. Sustain denial.
Against Demons—or anything that relied on mana as flesh—this would be invaluable. He purchased it without hesitation.
⸢4 Skill Points have been spent⸥
The second was more... unsettling.
⸢Skill: Spectral mory⸥
⸢Description: Access residual mories imprinted on a corpse. Clarity and duration depend on ti since death. Mana cost scales exponentially with corpse age⸥
⸢Cost: 3 Skill Points⸥ ⸢B-Grade⸥
Percival lingered on this one longer.
It wasn’t a Skill that offered anything in battle. But knowledge was its own power. Percival could see himself using this Skill to uncover secrets from years past, perhaps even hidden Relics, Weapons or Skills.
He confird the purchase.
⸢3 Skill Points have been spent⸥
Two more Skills followed. These ones were choices made not from mory, but necessity.
⸢Skill: Bone Armory⸥
⸢Description: Shape soul-hardened bone into temporary weapons or armor constructs. Constructs persist for 90 seconds or until destroyed⸥
⸢Cost: 4 Skill Points⸥ ⸢B-Grade⸥
⸢Skill: Soul Ledger⸥
⸢Description: Record damage dealt and damage received by summoned Undead. Upon dismissal, convert recorded damage into temporary Attribute bonuses for 30 seconds⸥
⸢Cost: 4 Skill Points⸥ ⸢B-Grade⸥
Percival found both of them very useful. With more dangerous beasts in his future, he knew it was ti to get a defensive Skill, hence ⸢Bone Armory⸥.
And ⸢Soul Ledger⸥ was a good way to grant his undead summons stat boosts.
He purchased them both.
⸢14 Skill Points have been spent⸥
⸢Remaining Skill Points: 15⸥
Enough left for later.
He closed the Skill Tree and let his hand fall back to his lap. Power settled into him quietly, without ceremony. That was how it always felt.
No rush, no euphoria. Just... alignnt.
Next, he reached into his Inventory.
The Basilisk Blade materialized in his hand.
Even indoors, even in still air, the sword felt very imposing.
He turned his wrist, testing balance, and felt the blade’s weight pull forward slightly, as if eager.
He gave it a slow, controlled swing.
The air compressed with a low hiss.
Percival stopped mid-motion, brow knitting. A strange pressure lingered in his grip, coiled and waiting. He frowned, then deliberately dragged the blade across his forearm, shallow enough to barely draw blood.
The sword pulsed.
He slashed outward.
The stored force detonated in a contained burst, splintering a floorboard a few steps away without touching anything else. Percival went still, eyes narrowing as he processed the feedback.
So that was how it worked.
A blade that rembered pain.
With a thought, he placed the sword aside and summoned another item.
The Sacred Armant Sword Case appeared in his hands. He unlatched it and felt the interior space unfold deeper than it should have been, lined with null-void silk and empty slots.
First, he placed Lightpiercer inside.
Then the Basilisk Blade in another sword space.
A glowing light shimred as the Case registered both swords.
Percival closed the case, stood and swung it onto his back. It hung diagonally above beneath the War-Scythe.
He wanted to test the Sword Case. So, he reached over his shoulder, intent clear in his mind.
From inside the case, he could hear a rolling sound, like the swords trading places in the racks. Then the serpent-shaped hilt nudged outward from the center of the Case.
Percival’s hand closed around it instantly. Then, he drew and slashed in one smooth motion.
’Good,’ he thought as he stood in a fighting stance, the Basilisk Blade angled by his waist.
Sword Cases responded to intent. Even if Percival was to fill up all the racks, whenever he reached for a sword, only the sword he thought of his mind would respond.
Satisfied, he returned the blade and opened his interface again. He noticed a small bell icon beside his Summons tab.
Percival tapped it.
⸢rcius Seagrave is ready to level up⸥
Percival’s brows raised. He’d almost forgotten.
⸢Soul Soldiers gain experience through confird threat kills.
Upon reaching threshold, Soul Soldiers may level independently of their Master⸥
rcius Seagrave’s status expanded.
⸢Soul Soldier: rcius Seagrave⸥
⸢Level: 131 → Level Up Available⸥
It was only a level, but as Percival knew, the higher one climbed the levels, the more EXP it cost. He selected to level up rcius.
Ding!
⸢rcius Seagrave has leveled up!⸥
⸢Lvl 131 → Lvl 132⸥
⸢ 95 Attack⸥
⸢ 70 Defense⸥
⸢All Attributes increased by 20⸥
Percival smiled. His Knight was growing stronger.
He closed the Summons tab and moved on to another important thing he wanted to check.
Percival opened his Aspect Chest.
Two Aspects hovered there.
The first was familiar.
⸢Aspect of the Briar King (D-Rank)⸥
⸢Primary: When Health ≤ 40%, gain 15% Attack Speed for 10s.
Secondary: Reflect 10% of lee damage taken as Bleed DoT (1.5% attacker HP/sec).
Cooldown: 60s⸥
The second was his newer one, claid from the Rending Marsh.
⸢Aspect of the Undying Lizard (A-Rank)⸥
His thoughts drifted—unbidden—to the Demon Gate World. If he was going to survive that, he would have to first upgrade this armor and then infuse these Aspects into the armor.
His power was growing, and so were the dangers he would face. Soon, he would need a far better armor than this, sothing like the one he used in his past life.
But speaking of his power growing...
Percival glanced down at the Anchor Ring on his finger. Its glow was a deeper azure than before, steady and calm.
He narrowed his eyes at the item as Rettucia’s warning echoed in his mind, word for word.
"Watch it closely. When the ntal channel is stable, it will maintain a flow of azure blue; the color of your Class. But if the channel overheats—if you push too much conflicting power through it for too long—it will turn angry red."
Thankfully, it hadn’t been a problem in the last Gate World.
Percival rose to his feet and crossed to the window. He pushed the shutter open slightly and peered out.
Fog clung to the streets below, pale and drifting, which was unusual for a city in Brackenbridge. The sun hadn’t risen yet either.
That was good. He would have enough ti to do what he needed done first.
Today, he would leave for Eldermoor. For Hollowcreek.
But first, he needed a Blacksmith.
And an Artificer.
User Comments
0 comments from readers