After hours of moving, the Commander had the foresight to stop when they reached the top of the mountain to set camp.
Horus gave a nod of approval, hidden within the throngs of relieved soldiers.
It was an easily defendable position, and they made it better with their mounts, knocking down weak trees to build crude fortifications.
Horus sat aside as the slaves set up his tent, shuffling between books on monsters and history. There was something about this land, Emora, that he didn't understand yet.
He raised his head to glance at Medava, who was also reading and asked. "What do they mean when they say Alethi came from the sky? And why do I only see Lethani settlements on the maps? Where are the Penitents cities?"
Medava raised an eyebrow at him. Then he pointed at the moon hanging in the sky, nestled among black clouds. It never moved. It was always in the east. All the time. Everyday.
"They came down from the moon? Another planet?"
"Moon?" Medava looked very lost. It was suspicious after all, since Horus was meant to have come down with them. "The Crimson Circle is a hole that leads into these lands. My father said it was sometime after I was born. The Silent Queen got tired of us and separated the worlds. That is why Hel invades all the time, because we are cut off from the rest of the world."
It all clicked in his head finally. A local dimension. He wondered how, but this was a god after all. One as powerful as the former Sun God, who cursed the Undead valley. They could bend the laws of reality to suit their whims.
But the mention of Hel made him wonder. Could the Priest be hiding in there? In a gate that not even Heroic warriors dared explore. It would explain why this quest was Master-tier.
If there was a gate to Hel somewhere and demons weren't ravaging the land currently, then it must have been cleared and secured. It would be dangerous. Something only a madman would consider.
But it was possible.
Horus grimaced, turning away. It would also confirm Medava's idea. Going towards a big city to meet the Black Inquisition was a waste of time.
Instead, he should be exploring the outskirts, the borders of this dimension where gates could spawn.
They were seated at the outskirts of the camp, mostly to speak in secret. Far from the bustling center where a huge pyre had been built. Its orange flames warded off the cold winds of the forest, and the cheery voices of people chased away its silence.
Horus liked the seclusion. He knew he would have to network and make friends to get information or new ideas for his quest. But that was always the annoying part for him.
So when a Penitent broke off from the crowd at the fire and stalked towards him, Horus sighed.
He glanced at the man once to gauge hostility, but the Penitent seemed more worried about the crowd than Horus.
When the man sat down, Medava jumped, and once again Horus wondered how such an unperceptive person was so good at hiding. Acting… he wondered silently.
The Penitent whispered, barely moving his lips. "Sorry to interrupt… but things might get a bit dangerous soon."
"Sever?" Horus asked simply, still focused on the book in front of him.
"Yes, sir. You've offended him both in battle and by leaving his platoon. He wants to attack now, but he's wondering who you are to so easily gain the Commander's approval. But he's already requested information about you. I don't mean to offend, but are you—"
"What is Sever's last name?"
The man blinked, a bit lost. "Stoneworth."
"That's enough. Leave."
The man half rose, hung between worry and confusion. "Should I warn you before he—"
"That won't be necessary."
The Penitent pursed his lips, but left either way. More confused than when he arrived. Once he was gone, Medava stretched over the table to turn the history book in front of Horus to a page about Emora's noble houses.
I hate how much he understands my intentions.
But he read nonetheless. Sever was from a middling family of swordsmen, which made sense.
It's always those near the bottom who feel the need to kick those below them, just to get a bit higher.
A Penitent captain likely only had a year of service left in this hellhole. So Sever was likely looking to distinguish himself before he returned home. The shame would be eating him up.
But Horus didn't want to fight here. Killing the captain wasn't something he had to worry about. After all, this was just a Narrative dungeon, a shadow of what had already happened.
However, killing Sever would likely create a Sub-Quest to defeat the noble fool's allies.
Right now, the only thing on his mind was cultivating the right Skills, Titles and equipment to challenge the abyss.
Medava passed him a note.
Are you scared? He's an Adept, and you're cool, obviously, but you shouldn't cause problems.
Horus turned his empty blue eyes onto the boy and shook his head. He was also an Adept now.
Besides, fear just got in the way. You either lived or died. There was no need to think beyond that to Horus.
What you could do is take measures to prevent your death. So he stood up and walked towards the fire to talk to someone.
It was simple, really. He just talked to Carrison about Sever looking to bully him.
"You're scared of little old Sever," Carrison teased. Her short black hair was packed under a colourful bandana, and she was enjoying a smoking kebab.
Doesn't it hurt to eat something that hot?
Horus rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'm very scared, ma'am." Then he turned to walk away.
"This won't stop him," She called out as he left. "It'll just piss him off more when I come to reprimand him. But I guess that's part of your plan."
He paused to briefly give her a confused look before returning to his table on the outskirts of the camp. Medava glanced once at him, and Horus made a hand sign.
Fixed.
With the boy placated, Horus willed his status to appear.
◇—Status—◇
Name: Horus
Title: None
Class: Common Swordsman
Skill:
[Endurance] > 17 (Common)
[Pain Resistance] > 10 (Common)
[Precise Hand] > 21 (Adept)
[Perception] > 20 (Common) [Skill Limit Reached]
[Reflexes] > 16 (Common)
[Basic Swordsmanship] > 16 (Common)
[Bow Proficiency] > 5 (Common)
[Shelter building] > 7 (Common)
[Cooking] > 6 (Common)
[Striking proficiency]> 10 (Common)
[Trap disarming]> 2 (Common)
[Twilight's True Son] > 3 (Common)
[Tactics] > 1 (Common)
[Violet Maelstrom] > 21 (Adept)
[Prolonged Suffering] > 21 (Adept)
[Critical Strike] > 21 (Adept)
[Dash] > 3 (Common)
[Magic Resistance] > 3 (Common)
Skill Shards: 5
Weapons slot (4): Celestial Steel Sword, Black Mercury Armor, Bag of Holding, Cloudbody Talismen
Quest(s): Silent Scream of the Lamb
[Title: Precise Hand]
[Rarity: Adept]
[Description: You can regulate the force of any attack between 0% and 100% of your maximum output. Any unused force is stored temporarily and may be added to a later attack, allowing you to exceed your natural limit.
[Skill hint: Stored force decays slowly over time.]
[Skill hint: There is a limit to the force that can be stored.]
Once he evolved Perception, he had to work hard to get Reflexes and Basic Swordsmanship to level 20.
And after that…
He had to get some Titles, maybe find some smaller Sub-quest and gain a magical tool. In the end, he had to fight more and put himself in danger.