[Do you wish to Evolve your skill? Y/N]
Horus knew some people liked to delay evolution to work on proficiency and their style in hopes of getting a specific skill from the system. But walking through the forest, he couldn't help but wonder if the system was dumb.
Of course, he wanted to evolve now. He was in a Master-tier quest, and he needed everything he could get. Besides, he had trained and fought with his skills in a particular way his whole life.
He had a good idea what he would get. So he chose yes.
There was a warm flow in his chest that almost made him gasp. His soul blossomed with greater energy, and the skill twisted and changed.
[You have evolved Common-tier Physicality to Adept-tier Precise Hand!]
[Precise Hand] > 20 > 21 (Adept)
He let out a breath and instantly felt the changes. He was lighter, his breath flowed more easily and old sore pains faded. He was now much stronger than a Common-tier warrior at Level 20, despite just one level of difference. More suited to combat.
Before he started reading the description of his skills, the system chimed again.
[You have reaped 2 souls. You can choose levels and new skills from them]
The forest opened up, and suddenly they were walking at the back of the long caravan. He glanced at the screen, then motioned at Medava to hurry up. Eyes followed them as they walked past.
There would be some speculation on why he left his mount, unfortunately. He sighed and focused on the transparent screen in front of him, choosing 'Yes' mentally.
[Soul: Blackwood Stalker (Common)]
[Skills list:]
[Magic Resistance] > 0 > 3 (Common)
[Stealth] > 0 > 3 (Common)
[Night vision] > 0 > 3 (Common)
[Endurance] > 14 > 17 (Common)
This was basically the profile for the two Stalkers. The low number of skills they offered was a bit annoying, but they were crude creatures from the beginning. What worried him was that he wasn't offered the beast's Physicality levels since it was Common-tier.
It was a limitation that was easily solved by killing things stronger than him, and he was sure [Twilight's True Heir] would grow when he evolved it. Its name might not change as it reached level 21, but he would gain more access to the abilities of the Mythical skill, until he…
Until he leveled it to Mythical-tier
Legendary is around level 1000… what level will Mythical be?
He had a long way to go. And no one else would have his Mythical skill, so he'd have raised it normally. But all his other skills would grow massively faster.
For now, he chose [Magic Resistance] and [Endurance] from the Stalkers. He ignored his need to gain [Stealth] to counter Medava—he would hunt more of them for the other skills later.
He soon reached his mount. The Ociraptor turned and let out a purring sound when he touched its neck.
Medava was writing something. He was tasked to carry some maps and books, so Horus sincerely hoped the boy wasn't tearing pages from a book. He handed a piece of paper to Horus with an urgent look.
The boy's handwriting was terrible. Horus wrinkled his nose, then squinted his eyes to decipher the gibberish.
So what's your plan to find the Forsaken Priest? I remember seeing you mark Arranor last night when you were looking at the map.
I'm not saying that's a bad idea. But I can do you one better.
Arranor is too close to the Black Inquisition. The Lethani are crueller to their own people than the Alethi. The Heretics will store the Forsaken One somewhere he can kill and consume weaker beings.
So I suggest Keltiva! Home of the Sacred Bath. It is far from most bigger cities and closer to the gateways to Hel. But it provides prey for the priest and less intervention from the Inquisition.
Horus licked his teeth and tried not to glare at Medava. How does this kid know so much? Why does he have such a detailed plan to find the High Priest?
He would need to interrogate the boy, and if this was some kind of trap…
Thinking about what he had to do wasn't sweet, so he simply wrote back to Medava to mind his business.
Following the boy's plan might sound logically better, but it could put him at the mercy of whoever was behind Medava.
So he would wait until nightfall.
The journey grew gruelling as they began their ascent up the mountain. Packed carriages creaked dangerously, men emptied their water skins after hours of trekking, and the ones riding a beast dismounted to stretch their legs.
Horus and Medava exchanged many letters, squeezing sentences on the already packed paper since Horus didn't want any more of his books torn.
They talked about people mostly. Penitents and Heretics. Alethi and Lethani.
For some reason, these two tribes were seen as vastly different despite originating from a similar ancestor.
Alethi meant lost tribe. Lethani means deformed tribe.
So they came from the same source, but somewhere down the line, something broke, and the people diverged.
Medava wasn't sure. He treated the Penitents like saints from another world rather than criminals forced to serve in this hellish realm.
It was years of indoctrination. But Horus could glimpse Medava's uncertainty. He didn't fully believe those things, but he wasn't confident enough to tell Horus that.
Is he a Heretic in disguise?
Sent to push people off track of finding the High Priest? Or even worse, was he meant to lead me to my death?
Horus couldn't be sure. Differing ideals and hidden thoughts could be caused by many things.
In the meantime, Medava handed him a book when he asked about the origin of the Wailing curse and opened it to a specific page. Too naturally. Like he already knew what was inside.
Dismissing his thoughts, Horus read solemnly of a curse that resembled a disease.
It could be passed on. From person to person. And it had no cure.
A curse was meant to be a singular restriction imposed by a Lord or higher being. It was meant to strip you of something but leave you as yourself. Just unwhole.
But the Wailing spread as soon as one person got it. It ate away at your soul and demanded you spread it. Then, at its height, it transformed you into an unholy monster capable of great destruction.
Navigating this place without some Masters or at least Elites on your side was a hard game. And if you ran into one of these, it was game over.
But as they exchanged notes, Medava continuously reassured him that they could avoid the Swallowed Ones, the name given to those consumed by the Wailing.
Even though the book said it was impossible to escape once they sensed you.