That whisper… it lingered like frost on the edge of my senses.
Anomaly.
Was it the game developers? Some advanced anti-cheat AI? Or… something else entirely, woven into Epoch's very fabric?
My grip tightened on my starter bow. Worry was a luxury I couldn't afford.
Power. Speed. Efficiency. That was the mantra now.
Shake it off. Focus.
The Shadow Panthers. My memory served up the location: a moon-drenched gully north of the abandoned logger's camp. Fast respawns, decent XP, and that uncommon leather drop that would sell for a small fortune in these early days.
Moving through the woods felt different now.
Agility Unshackled.
It wasn't just raw speed, though I was definitely faster, my steps lighter, almost silent. It was… a heightened state of awareness. The rustle of leaves, the snap of a twig – everything registered with crystal clarity. My reaction time felt superhuman.
This unbound potential… it was intoxicating. A drug more potent than anything in my past life.
The gully opened before me, bathed in the ethereal glow of Epoch's twin moons. Shadow Panthers, sleek and dark, prowled through the tall grass. Perfect.
I found a vantage point on a rocky outcrop, overlooking the densest pack.
Arrow nocked. Target acquired.
Thwip!
[-31! Critical Hit!]
[Critical Combo Triggered!]
Here we go.
The world seemed to slow down, just for me. My hands moved in a blur, a self-contained storm of motion.
The bow sang. Arrows didn't just fly; they materialized downrange, stitching lethal patterns into the panthers' hides.
Thwip-thwip-thwip-thwip-thwip-thwip-thwip-thwip...
One panther fell. Then another. Then a third.
[Critical Combo Stack x2!]
[Critical Combo Stack x3!]
[Critical Combo Stack x4!]
My Agility surged with each stack, feeding the speed, which in turn made crits more likely thanks to the base stat increase, creating a feedback loop of accelerating death.
The sheer velocity was staggering. My arms didn't ache; they felt energized, conduits for the System's power.
Below me, panthers dropped like flies caught in a hurricane. Their aggro calls, their lunges – they were happening in slow motion compared to the rain of death I unleashed.
Experience points flooded my log.
[You have reached Level 4!]
The onslaught didn't stop. More panthers respawned almost instantly, drawn by the commotion, only to be vaporized by the relentless arrow storm.
[You have reached Level 5!]
In less than ten minutes. Level 5. Most players would still be struggling to hit Level 3.
A small group of players stumbled into the gully entrance, their eyes wide as they took in the scene.
One player slaughtering dozens of mobs simultaneously, arrows flying faster than seemed possible, the ground littered with fading panther corpses and loot sparks.
"What… the actual… f*ck?" one gasped.
"Is that… Fierce Arrow? The guy who soloed the Serpent?" another whispered, recognizing the name that was likely already spreading through the newbie zone chatter.
I ignored them. Their awe was irrelevant. Only the efficiency mattered.
Leather scraps piled up in my inventory. Uncommon quality. Each stack would fetch a good price.
[You have reached Level 6!]
Finally, the experience gain started to slow. Time to move on.
Before leaving, I scanned the gully. My memory pinged. Behind a loose boulder, hidden by overgrown vines…
Yes.
I pried the boulder aside. A small, decaying wooden chest sat there, untouched.
Most players missed this. The reward wasn't spectacular, but early game, every bit counted.
Inside: 50 copper coins, a minor healing potion, and a [Tattered Treasure Map Fragment]. Useless on its own, but combine three fragments from different zones… that was a quest for much later. I tucked it away. Every advantage, hoarded.
Level 6. Time to leave Whispering Glade.
The path towards the first major city, Oakhaven, was already dotted with players making the same journey, albeit much slower.
They traveled in groups, cautiously pulling one mob at a time. I strode past them like a phantom, my unshackled Agility making me a blur in their peripheral vision.
"Whoa, did you see that?"
"Just a high-level player, probably."
High level? I was barely out of the tutorial zone. They had no idea.
Oakhaven City loomed in the distance, built around a colossal, ancient oak tree, its lowest branches forming natural bridges and platforms. A hub of trade, quests, and crucially, higher-level knowledge.
But I wasn't heading straight for the city gates.
My destination: The crumbling Archives on the city's outskirts. Specifically, the neglected section on 'Ancient Archery Forms'.
The Archives were dusty, silent, mostly ignored by players rushing to grind levels or find gear. Perfect.
An elderly NPC curator, Master Elias, peered at me over his spectacles.
"Looking for something specific, young man? Or just browsing?" he asked, his voice dry like old parchment.
"I seek knowledge of the Swiftstrike technique," I said, using the specific, archaic name I recalled from a forum deep-dive in my past life. Mentioning it was the first step of a hidden, unmarked quest.
Elias's eyes widened slightly behind his thick lenses. "Swiftstrike? Haven't heard that name in ages. Considered… unorthodox. Even heretical by some masters. Why seek such a dangerous path?"
"Power requires risk," I replied simply.
He studied me for a long moment, then sighed. "Very well. The fragmented texts are… somewhere. Section 7, subsection Delta. Riddled with ciphered passages. No one's bothered trying to piece them together in decades."
"Thank you, Master Elias."
Section 7, subsection Delta. A forgotten corner piled high with scrolls and decaying books.
It took nearly an hour, cross-referencing faded text, deciphering coded symbols using knowledge I barely remembered acquiring ten years in the future. It was tedious, requiring actual thought, not just System-granted power.
Finally, I assembled the complete text on a virtual table. Fragments clicked together, revealing the secrets of the technique.
[Ding! You have deciphered the 'Lost Scrolls of Swiftstrike'.]
[New Skill Learned: Mark of Vulnerability]
[Mark of Vulnerability (Active Skill)]
[Mana Cost: 50]
[Cooldown: 30 seconds]
[Effect: Marks a single target for 10 seconds. Your Critical Hit Chance against the marked target increases by 20%.]
Twenty percent!
Combined with my base crit, the Obsidian Arrowhead, the Serpent's Kiss Agility boost, and the potential for further Agility stacking…
My Critical Combo wouldn't just be frequent. It would be near constant against a marked target.
A predatory smile touched my lips. Now, for a test subject.
Just outside Oakhaven, in the Ogre Canyons, roamed Grok the Smasher. A Level 10 Elite Ogre.
He wielded a massive club, had thick hide, and hit like a truck. Soloing him at Level 6 was considered impossible.
I found him lumbering near a cliff edge, roaring at hapless Level 7 players who scattered like quail.
Perfect stage.
I took a position on a higher ledge, ensuring a clear line of sight.
Deep breath. Feel the power humming under the surface.
Target Grok. Activate [Mark of Vulnerability].
A faint, crimson sigil appeared above the Ogre's head, invisible to others.
Arrow nocked.
Thwip!
[-45! Critical Hit!]
[Critical Combo Triggered!]
The familiar surge of speed erupted, but this time, fueled by the Mark, it felt… different. More explosive. More certain.
My hands became ethereal blurs. The bow was an extension of my will.
Thwip-thwip-thwip-thwip-thwip-thwip-thwip-thwip-thwip-thwip...
[-25], [-25], [-50! Critical Hit!], [-25], [-50! Critical Hit!], [-50! Critical Hit!], [-25]...
[Critical Combo Stack x2!]
[Critical Combo Stack x3!]
[Critical Combo Stack x4!]
[Critical Combo Stack x5!]
The stacks climbed higher, faster than ever before. The arrow stream was so dense it looked like a solid beam of light lancing into the Ogre.
Grok roared, enraged, finally noticing the source of his agony. He swung his massive club towards my ledge.
Too slow.
With my unshackled Agility, I danced back from the edge effortlessly, the wind from the club's passage ruffling my virtual hair.
I didn't stop firing. Not for a second.
The Ogre's health bar melted under the relentless, critically-enhanced assault. His thick hide might as well have been paper.
Ten seconds. The Mark faded. But the damage was done.
Grok stumbled, roared one last time, and collapsed, his massive body dissolving.
[You have reached Level 7!]
The scattered players who had witnessed Grok's rampage now stared at me, utterly speechless. Soloing Grok the Smasher? At Level 7? Unheard of. Impossible.
Loot shimmered. Mostly vendor trash, Ogre teeth, a hefty chunk of XP… and something blue.
[Ogre-Hide Leggings (Rare)]
[Type: Leather Armor (Legs)]
[Level Requirement: 7]
[Stats: +10 Agility, +5 Stamina]
+10 Agility! Excellent. A massive upgrade. My speed and crit chance climbed even higher.
I equipped them instantly, feeling the power settle in.
My name, Fierce Arrow, probably just cemented itself on the Oakhaven regional radar. Let them speculate. Let them fear.
But as I turned to leave the canyon, that feeling returned.
Stronger this time.
A definite, cold presence brushing against the edge of my awareness. Not hostile, necessarily. More… curious. Analytical.
Like a scientist observing a particularly unusual specimen under a microscope.
And this time, a fleeting image flashed through my mind, unbidden. Not a memory, but… something else.
Eyes.
Countless, iridescent eyes, swirling in a void, all focused… on me.
My blood ran cold, a chill deeper than any game effect.
What was watching me? And what did it want?
The System remained silent, offering no answers.
My path to power was clearer than ever. But suddenly, it felt like I wasn't the only one walking an unnatural road in this reborn world.