The next morning, outside Zenith's abandoned castle, two silhouettes—one tall, one short—walked slowly through the withered grass.
The taller figure appeared to be an ancient yet mighty druid. Despite being human, a pair of antlers had sprouted from his head, crowned with a circlet woven from willow leaves. His only garment was a great cloak of gray bird feathers, leaving his calves bare and his feet unshod as they trod the earthen slope, heedless of cuts or scrapes.
The shorter figure was Nidalee. At that moment, her expression was grim, and her slender waist was still bandaged with medicinal herbs. Clearly, the wounds Ruth had inflicted were not so easily healed—she would need more time for full restoration.
"Ah, what thunderous efficiency," the elder druid suddenly remarked with a sigh. "Not only were the robbers and zombies here slaughtered to the last by him and his followers, but even the necrotic aura that clung to these hills has been purified without a trace remaining."
"Nidalee, you never stood a chance against such a man."
Beside him, Nidalee lowered her head, her heart brimming with resentment.
Though the previous night's massacre had seemed excessively brutal to her, now, in the cold light of day, she realized the castle had been filled with irredeemable scoundrels. Wiping them out entirely aligned with the simplest demands of justice—even if the methods had been underhanded, unbefitting a warrior's honor.
The thought only deepened her bitterness. Not only had she gained nothing, but she had also clashed with the very embodiment of justice. A complete and utter defeat, leaving her with neither pride nor profit…
"However, Nidalee," the elder druid spoke again, his tone measured, "we need not obsess over the Holy Sword Fragment. Its power may counter our foes, but it is not indispensable."
"There are other paths to strength. For instance… securing the support of other adversaries. Is that not so?"
Nidalee's heart clenched. She already knew what he would say next.
"Torun admires you. Surely you've noticed?" the elder continued. "You've known each other since childhood, and he is exceptional—the mightiest warrior among their kind, wise, responsible… in every way, a worthy match."
Nidalee silently agreed—but no matter what, she could never bring herself to wed a minotaur.
"Moreover, this was your vow: to retrieve the Holy Sword Fragment and free our people from reliance on external forces." The elder pressed on, watching her conflicted expression. "Yet you failed, Nidalee. If you stood in my place, what would you choose?"
"To sacrifice your daughter's happiness… or the lives of our entire kin?"
Nidalee gritted her teeth, then abruptly lifted her head, resolve hardening in her eyes.
"Worry not, Father!" Her voice was steel. "I have memorized their scent. No matter where he hides in Liberl Port, no matter how perilous his stronghold—I will bring the Holy Sword Fragment back to you!"
...
After toiling through most of the night, Charles had finally cleansed the abandoned castle grounds of Zenith, purging every last zombie and reaping a substantial haul of Purification Points.
Exhaustion weighed heavily on him, and though frustration simmered in his chest, he understood the ways of necromancers all too well. It was their habit to litter their territories with mindless undead—zombies, skeletons, and other lowly fiends—to ward off unwelcome outsiders.
After all, most common folk knew little of magic or the walking dead. The sight of a few shambling corpses was enough to send them fleeing in terror, never daring to venture closer.
And as for attracting the attention of righteous adventurers?
Please. Nestled deep in these untamed mountains, where the paths were treacherous, who would bother making the journey just to clear out a handful of zombies? The effort far outweighed the reward.
So, in most cases, the strategy worked in the necromancers' favor.
Zenith had been no exception. Had it not been for the irresistible lure of the Dark Elf's Holy Sword Fragment, it might have been years before someone like Charles came to dismantle their operations.
Regardless, the previous night had been spent scouring the surrounding hills, methodically purifying every last zombie. By the time they finished cataloging the spoils inside the castle, the eastern sky was already hinting at dawn.
Too drained to return to the adventurer camp, Charles settled for the nearest sheltered spot, pitching his tent and collapsing into his bedroll. He slept like the dead until midday, only then feeling somewhat restored.
Now, sprawled across the soft padding of his tent, he tallied his gains.
The foremost prize, of course, was the Holy Sword Fragment—no explanation needed. Next came the gold, silver, and jewels looted from Zenith's treasury, totaling roughly 1,100 gold in assorted coins.
Add in the less easily appraised gemstones, and the haul conservatively reached 1,500 gold—enough, perhaps, to buy a modest home in South Harbor District.
At least, at standard market rates.
However, seeing that last night's spoils consisted only of gold, Charles couldn't help but feel disappointed. He had hoped to find one or two pieces of equipment like Kendrz always seemed to acquire...
But he knew well how rare magic equipment was in these remote outposts. Perhaps that Dark Elf might have carried an item or two, but he had escaped after all.
Best to put such thoughts aside.
Suppressing his disappointment, Charles turned to his final reward:
Purification Points!
After last night's relentless efforts, his Purification Points had skyrocketed to four thousand eight hundred. Checking the details showed five hundred fifty points from Agatha, eleven hundred from the Abomination, with the remainder coming from zombies...
Charles' pupils contracted slightly as he read the entries.
Wait. Why did that Abomination yield so many points?
This was nearly equivalent to what he'd gained from purifying Hattie!
Yet that Abomination's strength hadn't seemed particularly remarkable - by his estimation, it was worlds apart from Hattie's overwhelming power...
It was just an artificial monster created from stitched-together corpses by some necromancer, fundamentally inferior to a true witch - those magical creatures born from flaws in the world's fabric and fusion with Chaos Energy.
Hiss... Could it be...?
Recalling last night's purification of the massive stitched horror, Charles formed a hypothesis.
Because the Abomination had been utterly annihilated during purification, leaving no trace behind, it provided exceptionally high Purification Points?
Whereas Hattie, Agatha and others retained their souls, bodies and even full powers after purification, thus yielding fewer points?
Hiss...
If this theory proved correct, then the fastest path to power would be hunting down undead for purification.
Coincidentally, he happened to know exactly where to find concentrations of undead...
This approach could potentially earn bounties, prestige, and Purification Points simultaneously...
With this future plan taking shape, the corners of Charles' mouth curled into a smile.
A vast, reliable source of Purification Points awaited.
No need to conserve them now.
Surveying his substantial remaining Purification Points, he nearly initiated an upgrade before hesitating mid-gesture. Instead, he first summoned his Pact Weapon, tapped the upgrade option on his system panel, then quickly grasped the longsword with both hands!
Buzz—
A misty white purification light enveloped his body as new knowledge and magical power flooded his mind. Closing his eyes, Charles focused on unifying his soul, magic and Pact Weapon. Within the radiant glow, sudden understandings crystallized.
Channeling spellcasting abilities to empower weapon strikes required far more nuanced techniques than relying on physical strength alone...
When the light dissipated, his heart pounding, Charles opened his system to review the upgrades.
Displayed on the system interface were not only the increased Spell Slots cap of 27 upon reaching 5th level and the newly acquired 3rd-level spell Elemental Weapon, but also a brand-new Eldritch Invocation: Thirsting Blade.
At the sight of this final entry, Charles's expression bordered on ecstatic.
Success!
His experimentation had borne fruit. At this critical 5th-level threshold, so long as his conviction burned fiercely enough, the system would fulfill his desires!
It was as though it wove new functional constructs based on his very thoughts. When he needed fresh Eldritch Invocations, it delivered!
Thirsting Blade was an Eldritch Invocation that every warlock who had chosen the Pact of the Blade was compelled to learn.
The reason? In this game, options for boosting damage were plentiful. Among Eldritch Invocations, there were Improved Pact Weapon, Eldritch Smite, and Lifedrinker. Spells offered Elemental Weapon, Holy Weapon, and a slew of slashing-oriented spells. Feats included Blade Mastery, Power Attack, Savage Attacker, and more...
But when it came to increasing attack speed for a warlock, Thirsting Blade stood alone—one-of-a-kind!
Without it, the only alternative was to rely on a mage or warlock ally casting Haste—a concentration spell with severe drawbacks.
Thus, this ability was non-negotiable. The further one progressed, the more invaluable it became.
As for why he hadn't chosen the long-coveted Agonizing Blast, the answer was simple: He could learn that later with Sophia's guidance. He'd already grasped part of it and expected to master it soon. There was no rush.
But Thirsting Blade? He'd had no leads on it before. Gaining it now through leveling filled him with profound relief.
He rose from his bedroll, stepped outside the tent, and summoned his longsword. Following the newfound knowledge in his mind, he gave it a few experimental swings. The weapon responded with unparalleled fluidity—where before he could strike once, now he could strike twice in the same span!
Dismissing the longsword, he then channeled Shadowfell energies, reforming them before him into a two-handed greatsword nearly two meters long.
Gripping it with both hands, he swung. The blade whistled through the air, its massive weight—normally rendering such weapons impractical—now handled with the finesse of a rapier!
After a few more swings, his satisfaction grew.
Excellent. This feels even better than in the game!
Still, he dismissed the greatsword. Without mastering the Power Attack feat, its damage output fell short. For now, sacrificing the defensive utility of a shield for raw power wasn't worth it.
Next, he surveyed his surroundings, selecting a nearby boulder. Raising a hand, he incanted Eldritch Blast. The Illusionist's Bracers activated, conjuring four circular magic arrays before him. Four searing beams of energy lanced forth, striking the rock—
BANG—BANG—BANG—BANG!
The stone split with a series of sharp cracks. Charles nodded, pleased.
Good. From this day forth, I've stepped into the realm of 5th level, mastered 3rd-level spells, and left ordinary adventurers far behind. My strength has ascended to a new tier as a Hexblade!
For starters, he could now cast 3rd-level spells like False Life and Armor of Agathys...
...Though the efficiency might be questionable?
The thought of certain spells doused his excitement like cold water, bringing swift clarity.
3rd-level spells consumed 5 Spell Slots, and their power underwent a qualitative leap—but only for spells designed for 3rd level. Upcast spells paled in comparison.
Take the classic 1st-level damaging spell Burning Hands. Even cast as a 3rd-level spell, its power barely matched half of a true 3rd-level Fireball, and its area of effect was less than a tenth. There was no contest.
But what choice did he have? His repertoire of higher-level protective spells remained lacking.
Make do. My combat strength has undeniably improved—across the board, a qualitative leap!
Now, even without Agatha's aid, he was confident he could face Zenith alone—and win.
Charles brimmed with ambition. Though only 5th level against Zenith's recommended challenge rating of 6, his confidence never wavered.
Truth be told, the game system's "recommended levels" for bosses were notoriously unreliable.
Take the most infamous example: the Tarrasque, a world-ending monstrosity said to awaken once every millennium, boasting the highest non-mythic challenge rating of 30.
And the method to solo it?
Be a 1st-level Aarakocra or Owlin, scrape together enough gold for a Quiver of Endless Arrows, and voilà—you could slay it effortlessly.
The creature couldn't fly, lacked ranged attacks, and was utterly helpless against airborne foes...
Ahem!
Granted, this example was extreme, but it clearly demonstrated how many oversights the designers had made when creating this fantasy world. Combined with the severe imbalance between classes, even minor combat optimizations made defeating higher-level opponents commonplace.
Take Anno, for instance - an invincible paladin who could face Zenith head-on, smashing through his shield and plate armor with sheer Divine Smite power. Meanwhile, someone like Nidalee, a constantly mocked Circle of the Land druid, would need to carefully manage spell rotations and might even be forced into tactical retreat...
As for Charles' Hexblade class, while not among the absolute top-tier classes, it was still considered one of the better options - a well-balanced damage dealer capable in both melee and ranged combat. A level five Hexblade taking on a challenge rating six opponent like Zenith? Naturally, it wouldn't be a problem!
From this moment on, I've become one of the rare powerful individuals in mundane society.
His mind brimmed with ambition, filled with visions of an even brighter future.
Yet little did he know, a far greater crisis was rapidly approaching...
After basking in the satisfaction of last night's rapid growth, the growling of his stomach finally brought him back to reality. The commotion from his earlier Eldritch Blast had drawn Ruth and Sephera back, and under the two witch's care, he quickly ate some rations for lunch before applying magical buffs and beginning the return journey.
Without their guide, the return trip proved difficult. Charles had to dispatch numerous aggressive beasts along the way before finally reaching Rockseeker's Outpost just before midnight.
At least tonight he could get a proper bath and good night's sleep.
After spending the night at the dwarven aunt's inn, he settled his bill at dawn and brought Zenith's head to the Adventurer's Guild's reward counter to claim approximately 500 gold in bounty.
After causing a minor sensation, without delay and before the growing crowd could surround them, Charles and his two witch quickly found a coach to take them back to the Rubble District.
This time, their driver was a satyr uncle - sporting goat horns, a humanoid upper body, but with the cloven legs of a goat below. His yak-drawn carriage cost 3 gold again, but appeared far more reliable than their previous ride.
Charles tipped an 1 gold, asking the uncle to pick up speed and take them directly to the tram stop. Indeed, this trip went smoothly without further incidents, and by noon they had safely arrived at the streetcar station in Rubble District.
After a simple lunch, the entire afternoon was spent in the tedious cycle of waiting for, boarding, transferring between trams. The three of them rode until evening before finally completing their journey and returning to South Harbor District.
Ah, home at last.
Though the familiar South Harbor District remained as dilapidated as ever, after a week's absence, setting foot on these streets again, seeing the bustling crowds and familiar figures of Amazon women gave Charles a warm sense of homecoming, his nerves unwinding slightly.
Upon exiting the tram station, Andny's mosquito were already waiting. Seeing the trio, the insects immediately swarmed to their ears, and the Insect Witch's voice buzzed: "Master, I have... well, I'm not sure if this is good news or bad news."
"Theresa has discovered the secrets we've all shared with you. Now she demands to join our... orgies!"
"Master, what should we do?"
Hearing this, Charles' steps froze instantly. "What?!"
Never could he have imagined such thunderous news would greet his return to South Harbor District!
Beside him, Sephera stood equally frozen, her mosquito no doubt delivering the same message. Andny proceeded to recount Theresa's recent conversation with the coven. When the tale concluded, Charles's face twisted with conflicting emotions. "You all... should I commend your acting or... damn it all!"
He couldn't deny their united front had successfully allayed Theresa's suspicions of betrayal. But the price for their deception...!
He truly didn't know how to describe it. Thanks to the united front of the witches, Theresa hadn't grown suspicious—at least not about any betrayal.
But the demand she made afterward... ah!
Sephera sighed. "Though Theresa is far stronger than us, ever since meeting Sophia, she's been haunted by a fear—that once she reaches a thousand years of age, her body will begin to fail, and she'll need the help of those she trusts."
"That's why she founded this monastery and worked tirelessly to build strong bonds with everyone. She's preparing for an uncertain future."
Charles nodded slightly. He was aware of this reasoning. What shocked him was the extent Theresa was willing to go—even to the point of sharing intimacy with him...
But...
At that moment, he had mostly regained his composure. Analyzing the situation, his eyes gleamed as he swallowed hard. "This might just be an opportunity."
"Sephera, when we return, tell Theresa that since this will be her first experience of carnal pleasure, it must be grand—all the sisters must be present to witness and ensure her first time is perfect, unforgettable."
"Ruth, keep the Holy Sword Fragment ready. Can you merge it with your body? Be prepared. When her mind is most clouded, we'll strike together—I will purify her while you drive the Holy Sword Fragment into her heart!"
"Andny, relay this plan to the other sisters. Have Hattie start preparations immediately. By tomorrow night, we will have purified Theresa and taken full control of the monastery!"
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