Without a backward glance, Pip strolled casually into the opening passage, into the room the voice had called the 'Sanctum.'

  Taking a fortifying breath, I followed her cautiously. The air inside felt different—cooler, stiller, and charged with a low hum that seemed to vibrate in my teeth. Like the main chamber, this room was lit by the soft, ethereal glow of blue crystals embedded in the walls, though they were denser here, casting fewer shadows. In the exact center of the perfectly circular room stood a single object: a large altar carved from polished, pitch-black stone. It radiated an aura that felt heavy and ancient. A palpable sense of power, almost oppressive, emanated from it, making the hairs on my arms stand on end.

  Pip, however, seemed utterly unaffected. She walked straight up to the ominous altar, hopped onto its smooth surface with a soft thump, sat down, and let out a clear, demanding meow.

  The entire temple seemed to groan in response. The stone beneath my feet trembled violently, and dust sifted from the ceiling. The voice, louder now than ever before and filled with burning rage, boomed through the Sanctum:

  “YOU DARE DEFILE MY ALTAR?!”

  My blood seemed to turn to ice in my veins, and a terror so pure it was paralyzing washed over me. We’re dead. Utterly, completely dead this time.

  But then, Pip simply let out another, louder meow, aimed directly at the ceiling from whence the voice came.

  And the voice… laughed. It wasn't a pleasant sound, but the rage was gone, replaced by a deep, rolling amusement that resonated through the stone like a subterranean avalanche.

  "You are quite the cunning little creature, aren't you?" the voice chuckled. "I like that. So tell me, human—what brings you and the cat to my domain? And do not waste my time with lies. I will know."

  I swallowed hard, my mind reeling. Did the voice just… joke? With Pip? About defiling its altar? My gaze flickered to her. She simply sat there, tail curled neatly around her paws, blinking slowly, completely unfazed by the god-like entity. What the actual hell?

  Still, arguing or lying felt monumentally stupid. The last thing I needed was to piss off a disembodied voice that could shake temples and probably incinerate me with a thought. Taking a deep breath, trying to ignore the fading ache in my jaw, I began. "Well... it's like this. Pip and I—we died. Back in… wherever we came from. And then, somehow, I woke up near these ruins. I found her again shortly after. While we were trying to figure things out, two ugly, green creatures attacked us."

  "Goblins," the voice supplied, sounding almost bored now.

  As the word registered, my focus instinctively shifted to Pip, and a new piece of information slotted itself into my awareness:

  < Entry Added: Goblin (Monster) >

  "Right. Goblins," I corrected myself, pushing the notification aside. "I didn't have a choice. I had to kill them to protect her. After that… she led us here."

  Silence stretched for what felt like an eternity, broken only by the faint hum of the crystals. Then the voice spoke again, definite amusement lacing its ancient tones. "You killed two goblins with naught but that crude club, a knife and your bare hands? Hah! That alone should warrant some small reward, boy!"

  My shoulders sagged in relief. It definitely didn't sound angry anymore.

  The voice continued, its tone shifting, becoming more contemplative. "I sense no falsehood in your words, nor in the feline's presence. An unusual arrival, certainly. As for the mystery of your rebirth… I could likely unravel it, yes. But it is not my place to interfere in the threads woven by others. However," the voice paused, "I am certain that, in time, you will find your answers... should you seek them from the right source."

  I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. That sounded… hopeful. "Thank you," I managed, my voice hoarse. "Thank you for your mercy, honored one. If it pleases you, we will take our leave now." I glanced at Pip, hoping she'd get the hint and hop down from the altar.

  "Hold."

  The single word boomed through the Sanctum, deep and undeniably threatening. The amusement was gone, replaced by a chilling gravity that froze me in place, ice prickling down my spine.

  "I told you I should reward you for slaying those wretched creatures," the voice stated, its tone leaving no room for argument. "And more than that, I have an offer for you. A task. When you encounter goblins or any of Drathul the Filthborn’s wretched spawn, eradicate them. Do so in my name. Do you accept?"

  I hesitated. The image of that first goblin’s vile hunger as it stared at Pip flashed vividly in my mind. My jaw clenched instinctively. I turned my head slightly, looking at Pip where she sat serenely on the altar. "What do you think, Pip?" I murmured. "Should we hunt down more of those ugly Goblin bastards?"

  Pip let out a short, sharp meow that sounded distinctly excited, flicking her tail once.

  The voice boomed with deep laughter again. "The feline agrees!"

  Still, jumping into a pact felt reckless. I turned my attention back towards the center of the room. "Before I agree," I stated, keeping my voice as firm as I could, "I have a few questions—if you permit it, honored one."

  A brief silence, then: "Ask."

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  I took a steadying breath. “First, I would like to know your name. I can't slay goblins in your name if I don't know it—or what you are. Second, I need to be certain there's no celestial punishment for killing these goblins. And finally... who, or what, is Drathul the Filthborn?"

  Another low chuckle rumbled through the stone. "If you seek a name, etiquette dictates you offer your own first, boy. But very well. I am Ithrak. One of the elder gods of this world, though my power is much diminished. And no, you need not fear punishment for slaying goblins, at least not from any divine law. The gods can no longer interfere directly with the mortal realm—our influence is limited; we can only grant power and lend blessings. As for Drathul... he is a god, yes, much like myself, but one who thrives on corruption, decay, and the twisted abominations that plague this world. The goblins are merely his favored, most numerous spawn, but they are far from his most dangerous creations."

  A god. An actual, real god. Okay. Good thing I’d been respectful. I bit my tongue, carefully considering his words. Elder god? Diminished power? Meanwhile, Pip, completely unfazed by conversing with divinity, had decided now was the perfect time to meticulously groom her tail. Right there. On the god's altar.

  Ithrak didn’t seem to mind. Swallowing my nerves, I decided there was little choice anyway and lowered myself onto one knee. "My name is Grim and I thank you for answering my questions, honored Ithrak," I said, trying to project sincerity. "I accept your task. I will hunt down Drathul’s spawn whenever I encounter them, provided I am certain of victory." Can't make promises I can't keep, after all.

  A knot of tension formed in my stomach. This was insane. As a kid, I hadn’t even believed in Santa Claus. Now I was kneeling in some ancient temple, making a pact with a deity to hunt monsters. Where the hell was I? This sure as shit wasn’t Heaven.

  "Then it is agreed," Ithrak’s voice resonated, seemingly pleased. "Place your hand—or paw—upon my altar and channel your mana into it."

  I blinked. Channel mana? How the hell was I supposed to do that? Confused, I looked at the altar. Pip, naturally, was already stretching out one tiny white paw, placing it delicately on the cool black stone. Her green eyes seemed to glow faintly for a moment.

  My face flushed with a fresh wave of incompetence. "Uh… honored Ithrak," I stammered, "I apologize for my incompetence, but… I don't actually know how to channel mana."

  There was a brief, almost comically silent pause. Then, Ithrak spoke, his ancient tone undeniably tinged with amusement. "You can channel mana, boy. You would not have been able to summon fire otherwise. The principle is the same. Instead of shaping your mana, simply… let it flow. Release it from your grasp without form. Try. I possess all the time in all the worlds."

  I swallowed hard, the god's patience somehow making it worse. No pressure. Taking a slow, deliberate breath, I tried to recall the tingling sensation. I placed my hand flat on the altar's cool, smooth surface and closed my eyes to concentrate.

  Seconds ticked by. Nothing. Come on… Then, slowly, the familiar tingling began deep within my palm. It intensified, growing stronger, warmer, spreading up my arm like an electric current until, abruptly, it felt like a dam inside me burst. Mana flooded out of me in an uncontrolled torrent, pouring into the altar—

  Gasp!

  I stumbled backward, ripping my hand away as if burned. The world swam dizzily, and a profound, hollowed-out exhaustion hit me like a physical blow.

  "You did not just channel all of your mana into the altar at once, did you?" Ithrak’s voice held a note of genuine, flabbergasted disbelief. "Boy, a steady, controlled flow would have more than sufficed."

  I groaned, leaning heavily against a nearby pillar, a new headache blooming behind my eyes. "S-Sorry… I barely have any control. I've only been able to use magic for, like, a few hours."

  "Interesting…" Ithrak mused. "Most unusual. Very well. Rest yourself for a moment. Replenish. Then, attempt it once more. This time, focus on a gentle, steady stream, like water trickling from a spring. That will be sufficient."

  Grateful for the reprieve, I sank to the cold stone floor. I took deep, slow breaths, calming my racing heart. Was that why the flame had burned out so quickly earlier? Had I just dumped too much mana into it? Clearly, I had a lot to learn about control.

  After what felt like five minutes, the draining weakness began to subside. Feeling marginally better, I pushed myself unsteadily to my feet and approached the altar again. Okay. Gentle. Steady. Like a trickle.

  I inhaled deeply, closed my eyes, and focused. The tingling returned, but this time, I consciously held back, visualizing a tiny thread of warmth instead of a raging river. At first, it still felt too strong, a surge of power wanting to break free. I focused harder, wrestling with it, mentally adjusting an invisible valve. Slowly, the sensation softened, becoming a manageable, consistent warmth flowing from my palm into the stone. Sweat trickled down my forehead from the intense concentration required to hold it steady. The outside world faded away; there was only the flow, the altar, and my will.

  Then, finally—I felt it lock in. A stable, controlled stream. My eyes flickered instinctively towards Pip, and as they did, the confirmation blazed in my mind:

  < Skill Upgraded: Mana Manipulation (Inferior) -> (Beginner) >

  Nice! A small spark of satisfaction ignited within me. Progress!

  "Well done, Grim," Ithrak’s voice resonated, carrying a rare note of approval. "Your flow is stable. Excellent. Now, it can begin."

  A palpable energy began to gather around the altar, the blue crystals on the walls pulsing brighter.

  "For slaying the goblins and the undead, for accepting my task, and frankly, for providing me with considerable amusement," Ithrak declared, his voice regaining its power, "I bestow upon you both my blessing. Pip, well of solace, you shall bear Wildheart’s Embrace. May it keep you safe in the wilds you now roam. And you, Grim, survivor of sorrow, you shall wield Voidseeker’s Gaze. May it pierce the veil and serve you well. Use these gifts. Grow strong. And may you drench the very earth in goblin blood!"

  The cavern trembled, a low hum filling the air as power coalesced and then sank into both me and Pip simultaneously—a feeling like a cold, electric shock that left a tingling warmth in its wake. Ithrak’s voice rumbled one last time, already sounding more distant, weary.

  "One final piece of guidance. When you leave this temple, travel north. It will provide a... suitable starting point for your new life."

  "I will now rest," Ithrak stated, his voice fading, heavy with fatigue. "To bestow even one true blessing is… taxing upon a diminished form. To grant two… even I am not without limits. Farewell for now… my chosen ones."

  And then—absolute silence. The heavy presence, the ancient voice—gone.

  Frozen, I stood there, the residual energy of the blessing tingling under my skin. Pip hopped gracefully down from the altar and trotted over, winding around my legs and looking up with intelligent green eyes.

  "...Did he just call us chosen ones?" I asked the empty room, my voice weak.

  Pip merely gave a single, indifferent meow in response.

  Suddenly, my mind flooded with information, a rapid-fire cascade of notifications that made my head spin:

  < Blessing Received: Voidseeker’s Gaze >

  < Skill Received: Appraisal (Inferior) >

  < Skill Received: Gravity Magic (Inferior) >

  < Spell Received: Duality (Inferior) >

  < Status Window Enabled >

  “What the hell…?” I stammered, stumbling back a step, completely overwhelmed. Appraisal? Gravity Magic? Duality? Status window enabled?