Chapter 27: Reflection

  Our group trudged along the last ridge path toward the black iron gates of our territory, boots dragging, shoulders slumped. No casualties. That much was expected with a Tier 4 warrior and several Tier 2 escorts watching every movement we made. Still, I sported a fairly nasty gash along my ribs, though it had been cleaned, wrapped, and treated with a pungent herbal salve that still tingled.

  I had also learned something important on this trip. Healers are rare. Not just rare, but rare in a way that changes how you think about the world. You need an affinity for both Light and Nature mana to even have a chance at awakening the Class. No wonder most Healers are Elves.

  I didn’t have the energy to dwell on anything beyond the rhythmic ache of my legs and the faint, comforting chill of the frost core in my pack. The night crept across the sky and wrapped around us as we reached familiar hills and torch-lit watchtowers. The trip had taken all day, returning a few hours past dinner time. We hadn’t run into any other creatures on the way back, but I knew that wasn’t luck. Every few minutes one of the Tier 2 escorts would vanish into the treeline or shadows, then return without a word. Whatever they handled, we didn’t hear it, didn’t see it.

  Everyone was exhausted. A group of twelve-year-olds who had just survived their first outing, their first real taste of danger, and earned their first real experience. We were returning victorious, and wiser. And sore. Very sore.

  Slade adjusted the heavy shield strapped across his back and announced, thinking aloud, “I think I should bring a weapon next time. Bashing things with my shield isn’t the most effective way to do damage.”

  Aofie scoffed. “Well yeah, because you’re basically hitting things with an oversized cooking pan.”

  “Rude. And secondly, if anything, it’s more like a door.” Slade rolled his eyes. “A very sturdy door.”

  Aofie grinned and nudged him with her elbow. “And how many doors do you know that break bones?”

  “Mine will,” Slade muttered. “Eventually.”

  Their banter was familiar and comforting, a reminder that even though we’d just been fighting for our lives, we were still just kids trying to act tougher than we felt. They were both future village heads, or something greater if they chose to venture beyond our valley when they came of age. I wondered what I was destined for.

  I reached into my pack and pulled out the misting frost core harvested from the Matriarch. It pulsed gently, a faint blue fog swirling inside the crystalline orb. This would help my frost mana affinity and aid in purifying my Core. I had earned this. Every long morning of training, every bruise, every hour controlling shivering mana currents. This was the proof of it all.

  I mentally summoned the System interface.

  ITEM: Frostfang Matriarch Core

  Rarity: Common+ (Beast Core)

  Type: Mana Source ? Tier 1

  DESCRIPTION

  Freshly evolved, it hadn’t had time to saturate fully. Not enough to be Uncommon. But still potent. More potent than a regular beast core.

  Aofie leaned over my shoulder. “You know, I’m still annoyed you got the finishing blow on that thing.”

  “You literally cut its leg tendons,” I said. “I just hit the open target.”

  “It still counts,” she shrugged with mock offense. “But whatever. I’ve been thinking about the fight. I need more mobility drills. And maybe a better weapon. Something faster.”

  Slade nodded. “I want something heavier. Something that hits hard even if I miss the perfect angle.”

  “You miss the perfect angle because you try to swing like a bear throwing a tantrum,” Aofie teased.

  Slade rubbed his forehead. “Okay. That’s fair. But still rude.”

  We approached the gates at last. Torches flickered along the iron archway as guards greeted the returning patrol. Parents waited just beyond, lanterns held high, faces anxious until they spotted their children.

  The moment the first group of kids walked in, excited cries broke the quiet night.

  “You’re safe!”

  “Thank the spirits!”

  “Come here, let me see you!”

  Parents enveloped their children with relieved arms, praising them and checking them for injuries. Aofie’s mother smothered her in a hug so tight she squeaked. Slade’s father lifted him clean off the ground.

  My parents weren’t there.

  But Margo sat quietly at the side, arms folded under her cloak, waiting. She waved when she saw me.

  I exhaled, relieved.

  She approached with a tired smile. “There you are. I knew you’d make it back, young man.”

  “Where are my parents?” I asked.

  “Still handling the logistics from the trade caravan that arrived early,” she said. “Your father’s been tied up negotiating ore rates with the dwarven envoy, and your mother’s helping with the ledgers.” Margo tilted her head. “They told me to tell you they’ll speak with you at dinner. They’re proud of you, Lance. Very proud.”

  I tried not to smile too much at that. “I’m glad. The trip wasn’t easy.”

  “So I heard.” Her eyes dipped briefly to the bandage at my side. “You’re lucky that cut wasn’t deeper. But you handled yourself well. Better than I expected.”

  She tapped my shoulder. “Come on now. Let’s get you cleaned up before you fall asleep standing.”

  Before I could reply, Sir Darvish strode past us. His expression was sharp, thoughtful. He exchanged a few words with the Tier 2 escorts before pulling aside the squad captain.

  “Sir?” I asked, noticing the tension.

  Darvish turned to me. “Lance, return home with Margo. I need to verify something.”

  “Verify what?”

  “A suspicion,” he said. “If I am wrong, all is well. If not…” He didn’t finish the sentence. He simply adjusted his gauntlets and headed back toward the forest.

  Aofie and Slade walked toward us, still talking.

  “I’m going to ask my mother to enroll me in spear lessons too,” Aofie said. “Close range is fine, but I need reach options. Something to keep creatures back.”

  Slade shook his head. “I want a hammer. Something that leaves a crater, maybe a Mace?”

  “A hammer?” Aofie raised a brow. “Why? You already swing your arms like one.”

  “Because I did literally no damage today,” Slade groaned. “Your sword sliced through. Lance’s lightning cracked the air. Meanwhile I’m smacking creatures with a shield that barely weighs more than a loaf of bread.”

  “You were the tank,” I said. “You kept the Matriarch from leaping at me. That counted for a lot.”

  Slade straightened with a satisfied grin. “You hear that? Even the future Tempest Knight agrees.”

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  Aofie flicked his ear. “Maybe in the future. Not present. And don’t let it go to your head.”

  We spent a few more minutes exchanging plans.

  Aofie explained her goal to lighten her armor. “If I can move faster, my strikes will be cleaner. I don’t want to depend only on brute strength.”

  Slade wanted to double down on his path. “I’m going to focus on defense training. If I can anchor creatures in place or block their escape, our whole group benefits.”

  When they finally left with their families, Margo guided me toward the estate. She didn’t say much, but she walked close enough to support me if my tired legs gave out.

  I clutched the frost core gently in my hand as we made our way through the village streets. Its cool pulse steadied my racing thoughts. The day was over, but I knew I was different than I had been that morning. Stronger. Wiser. And more determined.

  As we neared the estate, Margo spoke softly. “Your parents will want every detail at dinner. But for now, rest.”

  I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Behind us, the shouts and laughter of reunited families slowly faded.

  Ahead of us, the lantern-lit road felt warm and safe.

  But miles away, the world was shifting.

  The forest swallowed the last traces of village light behind him as he sprinted through the underbrush. The night was still, cold, and far too quiet. Something had gnawed at the back of his mind since they left the Matriarch’s nest.

  Something wrong.

  He reached the cavern entrance within minutes. The air was colder than before. He stepped inside, senses sharp.

  The den was different.

  The frost energy that had lingered earlier was gone. Not drained. Consumed.

  Darvish crouched beside the shattered webbing. The normal trails of mana were corrupted, warped like rot spreading through silk. A heavy stench of metallic ozone hung in the air.

  A low clicking echoed in the darkness.

  Darvish rose, hand on his blade.

  Then he saw it.

  A spider emerged from the shadows, its body bloated with dark, pulsing veins. Eight eyes glowed with a sickly violet hue. Its mandibles dripped a black ichor that hissed where it fell.

  Sir Darvish checked his Interface,

  Frostblight Broodmother Guard

  Tier 3 (CORRUPTED)

  Far too close to the village. “Fuck”

  Darvish exhaled slowly. “So that’s what you are. Decided to take up the newly opened home did you?”

  The spider let out a distorted shriek and lunged.

  Darvish’s sword flashed in a silver arc. The creature crashed against the cavern wall, but rose again with unnatural speed.

  Its corruption surged, twisting its limbs into sharper, jagged forms.

  Darvish steadied his breathing. This was no simple beast. This was something altered. Something dangerous.

  He adjusted his stance. “Very well. Come then.”

  The creature charged.

  Darvish met it with steel and mana.

  The cavern shook with their clash.

  Outside, no one knew that a new threat had already taken root.

  And that the shadows of corruption were creeping ever closer.

  The fight didn't last long, Sir Darvish wasn't your average Tier 4, so a Tier 3 wasn't much of a sweat. The issue was it being Corrupted, this is the second time he has seen one.

  The name left a bad taste in his mouth as well. “Broodmother Guard

  Somewhere, a Broodmother was growing. That was something he would need to talk to Lars about. That is not supposed to be happening.

  Sir Darvish leaned resting on his weapon that was impaled in the spider's skull.

  “Guess we will have to change up the Militia training. Seems like we will have some uglies knocking on our gates eventually.”

  By the time Margo ushered me through the estate’s doors, the warm scent of roasted herbs and spiced broth drifted through the halls. My exhaustion tried to pull me straight to bed, but Margo gave me a gentle poke between the shoulders.

  “Not before your parents see you,” she said. “They would storm the heavens themselves if you slipped past them tonight.”

  I sighed but didn’t argue.

  She opened the dining room doors for me. Inside, the long oak table was set, candles flickering in tall iron stands. My father, Lars, stood with a ledger tucked under one arm, muttering numbers under his breath as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. My mother, Lafiel, was arranging plates of food, moving with the calm precision of someone who could manage chaos with a single gesture.

  The moment they saw me, everything stopped.

  My father’s expression brightened instantly. “Lance!”

  My mother’s eyes widened as she rushed to me, hands gentle but urgent as she checked my shoulders, my neck, my bandaged side. “Let me see. You’re alright? You’re standing straight… good. Oh, Lance, we were worried.”

  I tried not to flinch from how tightly she hugged me.

  “I’m fine,” I said with a small smile. “A bit tired.”

  “That’s expected.” My father gripped my shoulder with pride burning openly in his eyes. “Your first outing. And from what Margo told us, a successful one.”

  We sat together around the table. For the first time in days, I felt warm—physically and in a way that eased something deeper inside.

  My father poured tea into three sturdy earthen cups. “Start from the beginning,” he said. “Not the short version. The real version.”

  My mother nodded with silent encouragement.

  So I told them.

  About trekking into the frozen hollow. About the tension when we first spotted the Frostfang pack. About Slade’s shield holding against the swarm and Aofie carving open an escape. About the Matriarch… its size, the cold breath of its aura, the way its frost mist nearly froze the air in place.

  I told them how my lightning sputtered at first from nerves, how I had to center myself, ground my feet, and let the mana flow instead of forcing it.

  “And the Matriarch?” my father asked quietly.

  I swallowed. “I managed to get the final strike after Aofie and Slade opened a path.”

  My mother exhaled slowly, pride softening the lines of her face. “You handled yourself well.”

  “I had help,” I said.

  “Even heroes need help,” my father replied. “That doesn’t diminish the part you played.”

  When I finished recounting everything, my father leaned back thoughtfully.

  “You fought well,” he said. “But I want to hear what you think you need to improve.”

  I hesitated. Then said, “My footwork. I tripped twice dodging the Matriarch’s lunge. If it had been a Tier 2 or higher, I might not have recovered.”

  My mother added quietly, “A fighter who can predict danger still needs a body trained to move instinctively.”

  I nodded. “Sir Darvish told me something similar once. That my upper body strength is fine, but my legs aren’t used to pivoting under pressure.”

  “There’s also your armor,” my father said. “You were frontline?”

  “Mostly,” I admitted. “I absorbed a lot of the early hits until we opened the distance.”

  “Then leather is no longer enough.” My father’s expression sobered. “You need something sturdier. Something that won’t crack after one bad strike.”

  My mother raised a brow. “Sturdier armor at his age?”

  “He’s already fighting beasts stronger than most adults encounter,” Lars replied. “He needs to be equipped for it.”

  I shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t want to rely too much on armor… I still want to dodge well.”

  “And you will,” my father said. “Armor doesn’t replace skill. It simply forgives mistakes while you learn.”

  I smiled at that. It felt like something Sir Darvish might have said.

  We continued eating, warm venison stew, baked root vegetables, and soft bread. The fatigue in my limbs slowly faded as the tension of the day melted into the steady rhythm of family. My parents asked more questions, softer ones now.

  “What did you feel at that moment?”

  “Were you afraid?”

  “What did it feel like when you first saw the Matriarch?”

  And then quieter:

  “Are you proud of yourself?”

  I paused.

  “I… think so,” I admitted. “I didn’t freeze. I didn’t run. I did what I needed to do.”

  My mother smiled, a small, warm thing. “That is enough.”

  “And we are proud of you,” my father said firmly. “Not because you fought. Not because you won. But because you came back wiser.”

  The warmth of those words stayed with me long after the plates were cleared away.

  My father set aside the ledger. My mother finished stacking dishes.

  We were just settling into a peaceful silence when—

  A heavy knock echoed through the estate.

  Not frantic.

  But urgent.

  My father rose first. “Darvy, please have a good reason for why you are knocking?”

  I had a feeling. Something cold prickled the back of my neck.

  My mother opened the door.

  Sir Darvish stood on the threshold.

  His armor was scratched. A small splatter of dark ichor stained his chestplate. His expression was grim, the type of seriousness that made the room seem smaller.

  “Lars,” he said, voice low. “I need to speak with you.”

  My father’s expression tightened, but he gestured him inside.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  Darvish’s gaze flicked briefly to me, then back to Lars.

  “The Matriarch’s cave is no longer empty,” he said. “Something arrived after we left. Something corrupted.”

  The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.

  “Corrupted?” my father murmured.

  Darvish nodded once. “A Tier 3 spider. Not natural. Something twisted it. It is claiming territory far too close to the village.”

  My mother’s hand pressed lightly to my shoulder in instinctive protectiveness.

  Darvish continued, “This is not a small concern. And we may be dealing with more than a rogue beast.”

  My father nodded solemnly. “Come to my office. We will speak privately.”

  Darvish stepped inside, boots leaving faint traces of dust across the stone. As they walked past me, he paused.

  “Lance,” he said quietly. “Rest tonight. You did well. But tomorrow, we will prepare to work on your improvements.”

  “For what?” I asked, though I already knew.

  I sat alone in my bed, deciding to pull up my interface to see the improvements Ive made.

  ─── SYSTEM STATUS ───

  NameFamilyTierLevel: 1 Experience: (82/100)

  Class CoreAFFINITIESBOND LESSINGS -Effects: Cold-mana resilience, passive protection, Good Fortune, Increased Natural Healing when surrounded with Nature Mana

  SKILLS

  Experience: (30%) Hand-to-hand — Adept Experience: (0% -> 12%)

  Experience: (0% -> 10% Staff — Adept Experience: (0%) Sword — Adept Experience: (0%) Arclight Guard - Novice Experience: (0% ->15%)─── SYSTEM STATUS ───

  I made some good process, getting my Skills some live action clearly is the best route to improve them.

  Also, for an outing such as that I almost gained 2 whole levels, I bet if I killed more vulpes I would have.

  Tomorrow is a new day, new techniques to learn, a new day to learn. Tonight though, I sleep.