Pushing every fibre of his being forward, he entered the dense, dark enclosure of trees. Shadows swarmed his vision, rendering it unreliable. Even ‘I see you now’ caught nothing, but [Windstrider] was telling him—there were tens of silhouettes rising in the darkness.

  He denied.

  He denied the vibrations. He denied the burning smell of ash and rot. His beating heart was the only noise as he sank into what seemed to be the abyss itself.

  That's what he told himself.

  All the noises, the whispers, the stares—it was all in his head; that’s all it was.

  Even if the treants were really here, they certainly couldn’t materialise during the day.

  He was safe!

  A vine shot out like the jaws of a viper and broke him out of his delusion.

  Perfect dodge performed!

  The silhouettes slowly closed in. Muttering something insistently. The sound of their voice...was muffled like he was underwater. Soon, it appeared they laughed and jeered at him. That made him snap.

  He summoned Hollowfang.

  “Come out, you slithery bastards with no balls!”

  Another whip, sharp as a sword, descended in a horizontal line. He stepped aside, the rotten air weaving as the blade missed him by an inch. The next came even faster. Prepared, he leapt back. Looking around with caution.

  Blurry, humanoid, twisted rope-like figures rose from the shadows around him. And as soon as they materialized, he caught their mana signals.

  Undead Treant, Lv 09

  Undead Treant, Lv 10

  Undead treant, Lv 13

  He was surrounded within seconds. He watched their indistinct silhouette and mana lines, and got the ick. Though he didn't show it on his face. These things...very much functioned like mobs. If he got scared, they would immediately swarm him from all sides. But if he beat a couple of them up instead, the others will scatter immediately.

  ‘I see you now’ has detected the following skills!

  Rotten Whip - ?: Control rotten vines that deal corruption damage every attack.

  Cooldown: ?? (Under calculation)

  Thorn Spear - ?: With a stomp, erupt spear vines out of the ground, cutting through enemy defenses in a surprise attack.

  Cooldown: ?? (Under calculation)

  Spore - ?: Inject spores that deal passive ‘Corruption’ damage over time. This damage is passive and cannot be avoided.

  Cooldown: None

  Even in the dark, he dodged them perfectly like a lithe dancer, weaving his sword and slashing them down. The treants went a bit haywire after he brought the Hollowfang out. Like a pack of hungry dogs. That was surprising. Was he wrong about these creatures? Were these actually descendants of chihuhuas?

  He leapt towards a smaller treant and slashed it diagonally.

  The disgusting thing stood even then, with half its body gone. Returning a claw at him. Before getting his class, he would have struggled against them. Their eyes could be anywhere—torso, limb, or abdomen, making it hard to kill them.

  But with ‘I see you now’, he saw through the entire structural makings and detected where the vines were missing. Shoving his arm inside, he tore the eye out and popped it like a water balloon.

  Perfect Kill performed!

  The treants receded a step. A bunch of notifications immediately rose.

  Class quest I – Draw the First blood — Complete!

  Undead treant(F) blood has been siphoned!

  ‘Red Rager’ denies the existence of Corrupted blood.

  Untethering!

  He felt something essential within him was being changed. A weird feeling, as though he was stealing something and adding it to his own.

  He knew this feeling. It was the feeling of growing rich overnight without doing anything!

  Undead Treant(F) blood has been purified into Fae(E) blood! 0 % > 2.9%

  That was...interesting. Could he siphon blood by killing these things? What Fae were, he had a faint idea, though many stories depicted them differently; they were basically some sort of fancy elves.

  He gazed at them.

  Without even seeing them, he sensed the fear in the undead things and stepped forward.

  Slash!

  Cuts soon began to appear on his body, raking his figure with lines of blood. Huffing, he used the Hollowfang as a shield.

  Undead Treant(F) blood has been purified into Fae(E) blood! 2.9% > 5.7%

  But soon, it proved not enough. So he put the blade away altogether.

  A charged crimson bolt of mana rushed out of his heart, lighting things up in the darkness.

  "Round 2, motherfuckers,"

  He rushed at the treants with his red, raging fists again. Indiscriminately bursting into the shadowy figures without caring about the whips. Scars piled on him. The more blood he lost, the more ferocious he became. He drove his knuckles in, tearing through them like rotten logs. He discovered something amazing.

  SIZZLEEEE

  The moment his blood touched the treants, their flesh festered and fell apart. The red mana was even more potent. It burned havoc in their indistinct shape, turning them into puddles of squirming flesh tendrils. Some of them lost their shape; the two that had gotten too much blood on them directly evaporated and turned to smoke.

  Red Rager denies the existence of corrupted blood!

  Oh? That's so amazing. Grinning bloodily, he stepped towards them. He could see their outlines flinch with each step he took. And the moment he leaped forward, they scrambled back for their lives. Vanishing within the shadows.

  "Yeah, that's right. Go back to the hole you came from."

  He ran after them and smacked another two down just in case.

  Treant(F) blood has been purified into Fae(E) blood! 11.1> 13.3%

  That was enough for a scare. He didn’t have unlimited blood or charges, and he wasn’t here to destroy them all.

  He moved towards the pulsing source of mana. The gazes on him still lingered, but they only peered from afar. When he stopped, they would vanish too. Fearful of him. His class.

  Eventually, his path was blocked by a wall of massive trunks, stacked next to each other like an impossibly large fence. A glowing fence of logs. Unlike everything thus far, it resembled something made by the design of an intelligent creature.

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  He immediately knew he wasn’t going to get through it that easily.

  Peering at the tempestuous lines of mana running across the wall of trees, his breath stuck to his lungs. He touched it, felt it. It shifted like a storm of wild, untamed energy. The emanating light glowed faintly. Without wasting time, he punched with a charged, Reinforced fist.

  The wall only cracked for a moment before restoring itself.

  Expecting it already, he pushed his hands back and, with greater intensity, dished out a couple more punches. His muscles twisted and tore down with each use; the resulting pain was almost unnerving. He paused, not due to the pain, but because his punches did nothing to the wall enveloped in mana.

  Charge: 6/10. 33 minutes 24 seconds until the next charge is recovered!

  He was halfway done spending his charges, and all it took was a couple of moments to reverse it all.

  This wasn’t working.

  He needed something that could disrupt this nonsensical net of mana—long enough for him to go through the wall.

  Only then could he see whatever was inside.

  His arms had gotten all kinds of messed up. Muscles burst, blood trickled down even from where it shouldn’t have. With great difficulty, he took out gravefruits from his bag and bit on them without caring about the consequences.

  His mind cleared up, returning to hyperfocus.

  These small peaches could heal back most flesh and minor damages, though they gave the best effect with an hour interval. When abused and used too close to each other, they lost efficacy at an exponential rate, and after the initial clarity, plunged your mind back into darkness.

  There was a hack—he could just keep eating them forever.

  White mana stormed through the vein-esque pathways of his arms, fixing the torn ligaments and muscle fibers. Thus far, he’d let both types of mana move independently, and even though he vaguely pointed the charges to whichever limb he wanted, he hadn’t tried consciously to control them.

  Forcing a charged strip of mana out of his heart, he shifted it towards his newly fixed right arm. But this time, he didn’t punch forward. Instead, he willed the white mana to move right behind it.

  To his surprise, it was effortless.

  If red was an unruly monarch marching without care, white was the loyal knight moving per his order. Every fiber red damaged, white restored in full. He could feel it—he was on the right path.

  Pulling out another string from his heart, he repeated the process.

  Three…

  Four…

  Five…

  Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead. His heart squeezed, threatening to give up as he kept pushing for more. Each string that was left was stronger, larger than the one before. Eventually, it grew too much to handle.

  The red bands blurred and collapsed into each other, sizzling, shifting into a haywire reaction of mana.

  He groaned.

  The pores of his hand cracked and burst, wafting out a red mist of energy. This time, he purposefully stopped the white energy from healing the damage. He ran the mana through the same area, expelling the extra, violent energy out of his body.

  Once the excess energy was expelled, the remaining mana untangled and loosened back to their original size, much more stable than before.

  Frowning, he peered at them flowing within his arms—in and out. Suddenly, something clicked in his mind, like the piece of a rusty cog gaining momentum.

  Feat unlocked!

  Ebb and flow (Iron): You have gained an elementary understanding of Mana movement.

  Effects: Intelligence +1

  His whole body flushed with mana, and filled him with an uncontrollable itch, but it felt disgusting. It made him want to scratch and pull at his skin.

  He didn’t know if it was thanks to the Feat or the increased intelligence, but controlling mana became a whole lot easier.

  Forcing all the strands into a dormant state, he moved them per his will.

  The final of Red threads bolted out of his heart, racing to join the others. And with the new unruly catalyst in the fray, everything went haywire again—into a much bigger reaction than last time. His black gauntlets took on a shade of red because of the wild mana storming through them.

  Reinforced fist has grown from Low-apprentice to Mid-apprentice!

  Ignoring the message, he jumped towards the cluster of wooden columns, gait wide. His fist swung in a violent, red arc—tearing through the darkness.

  CRACK! SHATTER!! RUSTLE!!!

  A deep crack opened up—wide enough for one person.

  What was inside? He had no idea, and he was beyond care. His need for answers overwrote his caution. Answers regarding whatever this place was all about… How to get out of this place, and what was up with Raka…

  Once he made it to the other side, light returned to his vision. He found himself staring at his unnaturally shaped arm. It had gotten dislocated from the force of that punch. Adrenaline was no longer enough to hold back the pain.

  Vision blurring, he fell on his knees. Shaking, barely holding back an urge to vomit. But he had no time to waste.

  Thankfully, this was not the first time he broke a limb.

  Closing his eyes, he breathed. Then, with a twist, he straightened the bone back in place with a pop. Thankfully, nobody was here to hear him whine and whimper like an injured animal as he did.

  He stayed holding it in that position, breathless, until he regained the mental capacity to stand again. Never in his life had a single dislocated bone hurt this bad.

  With a gauze of bandage, he wrapped his hand and devoured the gravefruits one after the other. After he was done with all that, he finally found a moment to look in front of him.

  Since he’d seen the grove of trees in the morning, he'd come up with a ton of theories about what he’d find here. Perhaps a hidden pathway to the way out. A powerful weapon—strong enough to take down the dungeon boss.

  Or something that could help him bring Raka back, at the very least.

  Instead, all he saw was a house.

  A house made of mottled stones, cradled in countless vines that stretched endlessly in the distance. It wasn’t similar to any style of homes on earth. Not from any era.

  But it was old, ancient even. The uneven, eroded stones were stacked atop each other a bit mindlessly, as though the maker hadn’t cared for their look. The woodwork tapering over them seemed like an attempt to fix the mess. Once, it might have enchanted its appearance, but the wood had shriveled and shrunk; so ancient that even insects might not find them appealing.

  Someone lived here, probably a long time ago. Someone living, breathing. Not made of trees or stones.

  Not to say there couldn’t be a living, breathing tree or stone in the greater universe; he even had a living coffin behind him.

  He watched the hole in the wall get restored, but that was a worry for later.

  Except for the house, there were no apparent signs of living here. Still, he didn’t dare to let his guard down as he edged towards what he guessed to be the door. It was different from the rectangular doors on Earth; it was of an oval shape.

  As he got closer to the house, he realized it was much larger than it looked. The door was quite a ways above the ground, almost three times his height. And there were no stairs—of course.

  Climbing would have been a huge issue with a broken hand. The gravefruits couldn’t heal everything right away, not broken bones.

  Not like he needed to climb with his current stats.

  He crouched and prepared to jump.

  He’d done illegal things before, been on probation, and been to jail a couple of times. But never in his life had he broken into someone’s house. But as they said, there’s always a first time—

  “Your hands look bad!” A hoarse voice exclaimed from behind.

  Zayn almost scrambled away like a cat.

  Of course, he got caught. Anytime he did something barely illegal, he had to get caught red-handed. He raised his hands and turned around like he’d been busted midway through stealing. But there was no one behind him. Not even a shadow of a person.

  Had he reached the stage of hearing things out of nothing?

  A burning pain assaulted his nervous system out of nowhere.

  “Dislocated bone, torn muscles, flexions out. Impressive!”

  Hissing, he stared down.

  There, a shriveled old man—half his size—poked at his arm without the slightest discretion.

  When had he gotten so close?!

  By reflex, Zayn flicked his hand at the tiny old man. The old man receded as if he’d known the trajectory of the attack beforehand—and effortlessly dodged it.

  “You should be unconscious!” He declared, wrinkly face curling into an amicable smile.

  Zayn jumped back and created distance between them.

  What was this…old guy? And why did he have no sense of propriety?

  The last thing he’d expected in this dungeon zone was humans—if this tiny, shriveling old man were to be considered one. His grey, dirty robes seemed unwashed in decades, and on his back, there was an bulge.

  A hunch? Or a hidden weapon?

  Though he noticed something weird.

  This whole time, the grey-robed old man had not opened his eyes. Not when he was wantonly ‘examining’ his hand. Not when he had side-stepped his flick. Even now, as he was reaching his hands to his back, his eyes remained shut.

  Zayn geared his vassals with charged mana, ready to draw the blade from his storage ring should the need arise.

  His jaw fell at what the old man brought out.

  It was a Y-shaped bone with one protruding end, burnished to an oily, silvery luster. Its silver strings gleamed under the sun. While the old man looked like he had a foot in the grave, the thing in his hand was anything but old. A bone guitar? Appropriate for this dungeon, sure. But what the fuck?

  “It's called an andolin.” The grey-robed old man laughed bemusedly, as though he could read his thoughts.

  A telepath!

  Zayn drew his blade out.

  The next moment, a hostile aura slashed him from all directions. Drowning him under its wrath. Thin splits appeared on his skin like a patchwork, as though he was being sliced by a million blades at once.

  For a long, long second, he didn’t dare to lift a finger.

  ‘I see you now’ activated!

  A ghastly figure floated beside the old man, her pure, white gown dragging close to the ground. Her black hair weaved and shifted in the air as though it were snakes.

  Battlewraith - ??

  Assessment couldn’t be completed!

  What is a Battlewraith? A ghost that fights? He cautiously took a look at the hairs stretching onto him. Silky, thin threads that entrapped him from all sides. Caged him within an intricate maze. Their edges glinted under the light, as sharp as a blade.

  Blood dripped to the ground, drop by drop.

  His blood.

  Anger beat like a raging volcano within him. Not because of all the blood loss, but because his clothes were ruined.

  Again.

  And he’d just gotten them!

  “Merisa,” The grey robed man interrupted, his tone affectionate and thick. “Don’t scare the young guy.”

  With that, the blade-like threads removed themselves swiftly back into her hair, as if they never existed.

  The ghost woman shot Zayn a hostile gaze and hid herself behind the old man. Then she acted coy, cradling the old man like a maiden in love.

  Like she wasn’t going to murder him just a moment ago. Like she was literally not called ‘a Battlewraith’!

  The old man smiled apologetically. “Please pardon my wife’s behaviour.”

  That’s NOT your wife! That’s a ghost from head to toe! Zayn glanced at the two with wariness.

  One of them had passed to the netherworld, while the other was half a step into the grave. What was the dynamic of this relationship?!

  The old man laughed and said, “Death is only the beginning, young man.”

  Zayn didn’t like this telepath guy, he decided.