The green-clad soldier before him moved with lethal purpose, blade poised. Luke sidestepped the first swing, the movement precise now, born of brutal repetition rather than frantic panic. His body felt sluggish, heavy with exhaustion that transcended mere physical tiredness, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.
The soldier came again, strikes deliberate, unrelenting. Luke dodged twice more, the whistle of the blade slicing air inches from his ribs. His breath was ragged, muscles screaming protest, but his mind was clear, calculating angles, watching the enemy’s footing. He lashed out with his daggers, blades cutting shallow lines across armor, failing to find a true opening.
~ Progress: 9/10 hits landed! Seek vulnerabilities! ~
The soldier snarled, pressing forward, giving him no space. Luke stumbled back, barely avoiding the next swing. His feet caught on the uneven, corpse-strewn ground, and he fell hard onto his back, the impact driving the air from his lungs in a painful gasp.
The soldier didn’t hesitate, seeing the opening. Their sword arced downward in a brutal killing strike. Luke rolled desperately, feeling the blade graze his shoulder as it stabbed deep into the churned mud beside him.
He pushed himself up, desperation lending strength, and lunged low with both daggers. The first dagger glanced off the soldier’s heavy chest plate. The second found its mark, slipping between the plates of their armor near the hip, sinking deep into flesh.
~ Progress: 10/10 hits landed! ~
~ Quest Complete: Combat Basics! ~
Reward: +75 Experience Points.
New Skill Unlocked: Basic Knife Proficiency (Passive).
The notification barely registered before something else happened, something unexpected. A surge of energy pulsed through him, sharp and electric, igniting every nerve. His mind reeled as flashes flooded his consciousness. Every slash, every dodge, every desperate lunge, every death playing out in rapid succession, consolidating. The knowledge wasn’t just cognitive; it settled into his muscles, his bones, his very instincts. He inhaled sharply as it hit him all in a rush.
His grip on the daggers shifted automatically, the balance suddenly feeling perfect, natural. His stance adjusted without conscious thought, weight distributing optimally for quick movement. Luke blinked, the sensation disorienting but exhilarating. He felt… sharper. Faster. Like everything he’d been fumbling to learn had finally, irrevocably clicked into place.
The soldier before him staggered, clutching their side, blood seeping between their fingers. They growled, raising their sword for another strike, but this time Luke didn’t falter, didn’t hesitate. He moved without thinking, his body flowing like water, closing the distance in a single smooth motion.
His daggers flashed in a blur of steel. One slashed across the soldier’s sword wrist, causing the weapon to clatter uselessly to the ground. The other sank deep into the gap beneath their helmet, at the base of the neck.
The soldier collapsed without a sound.
Luke stood over them, chest heaving, his conscious mind struggling to catch up to what his body had just done instinctively.
~ Experience Gained: 50. Bonus Objective Complete: Survive for 5 consecutive minutes in combat. ~
~ New Level Achieved! Level 3 Unlocked. Attribute Points Available: +3.~
Luke’s knees nearly buckled as the system messages appeared, but he forced himself to stay upright. He could feel it – the shift, the growth, the terrifying ease with which he’d just ended a life. He wasn’t the same clumsy, flailing newcomer who’d stumbled onto this battlefield hours, or maybe lifetimes, ago.
But he was still clumsy. His new skill, this proficiency, didn’t make him an expert. It just threw the skill gap between him and the other soldiers into sharper relief. He knew, instinctively now, how far he still had to go.
A blue-clad soldier ran past, shield raised, engaging another enemy without sparing Luke a glance. Luke wiped his daggers clean on his mud-caked armor, his grip steady now. His hands didn’t shake. His breathing slowed, becoming measured.
It didn’t feel good, killing that soldier. Not exactly. But it felt… necessary. Earned through pain and persistence.
He turned his gaze back to the battlefield. The chaos stretched before him, unending, unforgiving. But for the first time, he didn’t just feel like prey caught in a storm. He felt like maybe, just maybe, he could weather it.
~ Quest Alert: War of Attrition ~
Objective: Survive until the conclusion of the battle.
Reward: +100 Experience Points, Faction Reputation Boost (Jefferson Imperium).
Failure Penalty: Death (Respawn applicable).
Luke dismissed the notification, rolling his shoulders, adjusting his grip. The daggers felt different now. Familiar. Extensions of his will. The cycle of death and rebirth hadn’t broken him. It was forging him into something harder, sharper.
“Alright,” he muttered, stepping back into the fray with a grim determination he hadn’t possessed before. “Let’s see what else I can do.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
He moved with newfound purpose, no longer just reacting, but observing, anticipating. He saw a pair of green soldiers overwhelming a lone blue fighter, their movements synchronized. Instead of charging in, Luke circled, using the battlefield clutter – fallen bodies, discarded shields, broken wagons – for cover. He watched their rhythm, waited for the inevitable opening.
When one green soldier overextended on a downward swing, Luke darted in low and fast. His dagger sliced across the back of the soldier’s knee, crippling them. The soldier roared in pain and surprise, collapsing. Luke was already moving, retreating behind a pile of corpses before the second soldier could fully react.
~ Experience Gained: 30 ~
The second green soldier hesitated, torn between pursuing Luke and defending their injured comrade. That hesitation was all the beleaguered blue soldier needed. He rallied, pressing his advantage, forcing the remaining green soldier onto the defensive.
Luke didn’t stay to watch the outcome. He melted back into the chaos, seeking another opportunity, another vulnerable flank, another moment where his daggers could make a difference without putting him in the direct line of fire. He became a scavenger of violence, picking at the edges of larger fights, a shadow dealing quick, debilitating blows before vanishing again.
He died twice more before the battle finally began to wind down. Once when he misjudged the reach of a spearman, the sharp point punching through his leather armor before he could react. The second time, a stray arrow caught him in the back as he was disengaging from a brief skirmish. Each death was still agony, the respawn still disorienting, but the time between them was growing longer. And the strange numbness, the unsettling calm that followed the horror of taking a life, persisted.
The chaotic symphony of clashing steel subsided, replaced by the weary shouts of the victors, the moans of the wounded scattered across the field, and the crackle of small fires consuming debris. The green forces were in full retreat, leaving only isolated pockets of desperate, futile resistance quickly being stamped out.
Blue soldiers were cheering sporadically, some raising swords slick with gore, their faces grimly triumphant beneath layers of mud and sweat. Luke couldn’t bring himself to join them. The shouts felt distant, muted, disconnected from the grim reality surrounding him. He sighed, a wave of profound exhaustion washing over him now that the immediate, constant threat had passed.
A new wave of notifications appeared, a dizzying cascade overlaying the grim tableau of the battlefield:
~ Quest Complete: War of Attrition! ~
Reward: +100 Experience Points. Faction Reputation Boost: +500 with Jefferson Imperium.
Current Standing: Friendly.
~ Level Up! ~
~ Level Up! ~
~ Level Up! ~
~ Level Up! ~
~ Level Up! ~
Levels Gained: 5 (Total Level: 8).
Attribute Points Available: +10.
Skill Points Available: +5.
Luke blinked, staggering slightly as the information flooded his senses. “Five levels?” he murmured, the words feeling thick. “Guess surviving pays better than dying.” The thought came with that same detached clarity that disturbed him. His fingers itched to open his character menu, explore the new skills and points, but the sight of the battlefield, littered with the dead and dying, stopped him.
“Later,” he decided, shaking his head slightly. “Not here.”
Looking up through the haze of smoke and dust, he spotted a cluster of blue-clad soldiers gathering nearby, their postures relaxing slightly now the fighting was truly over. He jogged toward them, his steps heavy but no longer driven by panic, just exhaustion.
“Hey!” he shouted as he got closer, automatically pulling the muddy blue strips of cloth from his pouch and holding them up.
“Ah!” The group turned, startled, swords half-raised before recognizing the makeshift insignia.
“You scared the snot outta me, man,” a younger voice said. The speaker looked much like Luke probably did – young, spattered with mud and gore, features softer than the hardened veterans around him. His hair was dirty blond, or maybe just plain dirty, and he wore robes instead of armor. A mage?
“Sorry,” Luke said, tucking the cloth away. “Helped me sneak up on the greenbacks.”
“Ha! Greenbacks. I like this kid already!” a robust, bearded man said jovially. “Though hidin’ yer colors is a good way t’get killed by yer own side, ye know.”
“Eh, I’ll take my chances,” Luke shrugged.
“So, a rogue?” another soldier asked, gesturing to Luke’s twin daggers.
“Was kinda thrown in here,” Luke admitted. “Didn’t exactly get a choice of profession.”
The group chuckled good-naturedly. “That’s usually how it works,” the jovial man, Mark, spoke up again. “Now the battle’s mostly done, what’re ye thinkin’ of doin’, kid? What path d’ye fancy?”
“Magic,” Luke said without hesitation, the word feeling like a connection to something potentially less brutal, more nuanced. “But,” he added, glancing down at the daggers still clutched in his hands, “I’ve kinda come to like these.” The admission felt strange, acknowledging the cold efficiency he’d found in their use, the memory of his first kill still sharp, albeit detached.
Mark laughed heartily. “Hmm. Well, good luck with that, friend. Don’t know if I ever heard o’ a class usin’ daggers and castin’ proper magic, least not in the traditional sense. Most rogues ‘n assassins – and there’s dozens o’ classes fit that mold – use magic t’enhance their blades, disappear, sneak about, that fancy stuff. Good for massive damage t’one target, quick ‘n dirty like. Not exactly chuckin’ fireballs.”
Sneaking around like shadows sounded tempting, but the lure of real magic, the kind that reshaped reality – fireballs, summoning creatures, raising the dead – pulled at him strongly. Magic felt like power, the quickest path to the wealth he needed.
“If ye want real magic, ye’ll have t’talk t’them pointy-heads,” the blond kid, Lester, said, pointing toward robed figures already walking back toward distant tents.
“Stuck-up morons,” one man spat nearby. “Think they’re better ‘cause they can wiggle their fingers. Only decent one’s young Lester here. If we weren’t holdin’ the line so they could cast their spells, they’d get overrun in an instant.”
“Though Lester hasn’t finished his brainwashin’ yet, has he, Lest?” another man, built like a redwood tree, piped in, slapping Lester on the back. Lester went red, stammering a defense as the others chuckled.
“All good-natured, lad,” Redwood boomed. “Saved my hide out there today.” Grumbles of agreement came from the others.
“Is there anyone else I can learn magic from?” Luke asked hopefully.
Mark shrugged. “Every class ‘as magical abilities, o’ course. It’s just a matter o’ gettin’ yer specialization ‘n unlockin’ ‘em. Depends on the path ye take.”
Every class had magic? Luke wanted it all. The thought was intoxicating. Could he have multiple classes? Grand visions filled his head – casting fire, then earthquakes, enemies consumed by flame and swallowed by the earth. Magic was power. Magic was the key.
“Enough chit-chat,” Mark said, sobering slightly. “You two,” he pointed at Luke and Lester, “start on the far end. Rummage through the corpses. Look for survivors – ours, obviously. Kill any greenbacks still twitchin’. An’ remember – seventy percent o’ any coin goes t’the Imperium. Rest is yers t’keep.”
~ Quest Alert: Battlefield Cleanup ~
Objective: Loot corpses, aid allied survivors, eliminate remaining enemies.
Reward: Variable loot, +100 Experience Points.
Luke accepted without hesitation, though another notification immediately followed:
~ Quest Alert: Finding Your Path ~
Objective: Declare a specialization or class path.
Quest Type: Rare / Foundational.
Reward: 5,000 Experience Points, Class-specific abilities unlocked.
Status: Force Accepted.
“Specialization?” Luke murmured, frowning at the insistent prompt. He dismissed it for now, filing it away. More immediate concerns took precedence. “Let’s get to it,” he said to Lester, nodding toward the grim expanse of the battlefield. Together, they trudged toward the far end, stepping carefully through the quiet aftermath of war.