Well, Feldwin is certainly enjoying this; any opportunity for that cranky bastard to mess with me, he will take with glee. It probably doesn’t hurt that he knows he just won a good fistful of gold either. And fuck you, Martin! I saved your ass from wolves last year. Wait, what did Torvald bet on…or my father, for that matter? His holiness certainly wouldn’t be above placing a wager or three.
Feldwin came marching back out of town a few short minutes later with the ruddy-cheeked, full-bearded form of Rafael hoisting himself along, trying and failing to keep up with Feldwin's long strides. Rafael made it up to Vrax in an out-of-breath huff, holding out a thick circular amulet to him. It took Vrax a moment to successfully snatch it from his heaving arms. Rafael was going to have a heart attack one of these days. He draped it over his neck and felt a cool sizzle on his skin as the magic obscured him from being identified.
Rafael slapped a sweaty, meaty hand on Vrax’s shoulder, a beaming smile plastered on his face. “Congratulations, young man! We all knew you would do it eventually! So what did you pick? I was right, wasn’t I? Some kind of rare alchemical warrior, or, better yet, an epic potion-making class?” His eyes glimmered with hopeful greed. Then slowly traced down to Vraxes' armor, barely obscured beneath the cloak. His smile wavered.
“Paladin, the monster-hugging kind,” Vrax quipped, peeling Rafael’s sticky mitt off his shoulder. His gauntlet left a distinct ashy smear across Rafeal’s hand.
“Wait, really?” Rafael's last trace of a smile faded. You could practically see the gold slipping between his fingers.
Feldwin had another chortling fit at the innkeeper's expense. He was having far too much fun with this. Vrax wondered just how much he had really won. He was starting to think it was even more than he let on.
Rafael sighed, “Can we at least take off the glowing, burned? Armor, it’s a pretty dead giveaway that you sided with all the other violent imbeciles around here. And if I'm not going to make much other than my pittance of a percentage, I can at least salvage my bet money by making this a true event!”
Thankfully, Vrax had experimented with that back at camp. It could never be truly removed; it was his stigmata, after all, and would always be a part of him. But if he willed the armor away, it shrank to a pair of charred vambraces just covering his forearms and a single slightly singed white branch that wound from the left vambrace up his arm, wrapping around his shoulder and peeking from behind his ear like some very dramatic piece of elven jewelry. It was conspicuous and slightly annoying.
With a flick of his wrist, the armor disappeared in a hiss of grey smoke that dramatically whisped from under his cloak.
“There you go, my favorite bartender.” Vrax waved a small smoke cloud out of Rafel's stunned face with a smile.
“Nifty,” Feldwin nodded appreciatively.
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“I’m the only bartender that will still serve you after that corpse maggot prank you pulled, and yes, perfect, let’s go. Actually, better yet, you go hole up in the chapel for an hour or two while I set things up!” Rafael clapped his hands and started chugging his way back to town.
Felwin went to leave himself and stopped, turning to look at Vrax with a surprisingly genuine smile. “Congrats kid, don’t let it go to your head. Always remember that there is something scarier around every corner the deeper in you go. Just keep doing whatever weird bullshit has been keeping you alive this long. I would really rather not be the only guide in this damn town.”
Vrax made the short walk to the chapel; it was only a few hundred strides from the main gate. Situated on the end of a lonely street. The town stables sat across from it. The smell of manure oddly mixing with the strong incense wafting from the sturdy chapel's open doors. He took the stone stairs two at a time, rushing into the main worship hall. Patting the carnivorous plant just outside the door fondly. Statues of twelve different gods lined the sides here, with rickety pews dedicated to each. Noticeably absent was a shrine to Rembrandt, the space at the peak of the hall having an empty plinth where it must have once been.
He snaked through the clutter of pews and down a hall to his room. William, in all his dottering glory, almost ran into him in front of his door. He fixed him with a hard stare for a moment, his eyes drawing down to the amulet around his neck and the branch peering from behind his ear. With a wide smile, he smacked Vrax with his cane. “Good job, don’t let me stop you. It looks like you need to spend some essence.”
Not the reaction Vrax expected, but he would take it. He gave his father a quick hug and stepped into his room, dumping his possessions in a pile on the floor. Vrax dived into his [system sanctuary] the moment he sat on his bed.
His sanctuary formed around him. Geometric shadows blooming into solid ground. Drops of pure green essence rained down to stitch together his new Sanctuary. The torrential downpour of sheer magical creation slowly drew back, revealing the landscape bit by bit. His lake was still shimmering in the center of the glade, but now it was vast in comparison to before. The same plethora of life dotted around it. Devourers happily bobbed around. The waterfall had grown to a towering edifice gushing essence to the lake below. Behind the crashing wall of water was a clear cave mouth. The same round, holy room that beheld his new powers sat within. A familiar burned tree sat upon it now.
Around his lake were three effigies of himself. One, the familiar [Core Statues] had changed slightly to show him holding the sapling spear and donned in his armor. The same cocky grin was etched onto his face. A new sculpture sat nestled among the densest patch of wildlife beside the lake. Vrax examined it [Adapt Life] it showed him holding a red lily as its form slowly shifted to something more. Blades sprung from it, and it held a malicious edge.
The final new sculpture lay at the base of the waterfall. Vrax was depicted in a leaping lunge, a savage war cry on his lips. The spear in his hands practically oozing entropic energy from the tip. Vrax passed by this statue and walked up to his [Core Statue] he focused on it.
[Talents]
[Identify]
[Mana cost insignificant]
[Hunter's Ear]
[Passive]
[Forest Strider]
[Passive]
Vrax looked at his two cobbled-together talents he had made back when he was still unclassed. Both still served him well. He may someday unmake them and start again with something better, but for now they both serve a purpose. It was time for him to make his first core improvement. There were two main ways to change your core. One was what Vrax had already done, making changes that were more targeted and focused. Ended up creating [Talents] if you did it properly. Holistic changes to the body, mind, or mana changed the way the system showed your attributes. Right now he was still the same Vrax. He wasn’t any stronger, faster, or tougher than he was two days ago. He just had some skills now and a great new talent. But that was about to change.
Vrax focused on the lake outside; it held only a fraction of what essence it could. He imagined it flowing to him, crashing around him like a wave. Once the essence pooled around him, he focused it into a chisel of intent. He bent every bit of that intent towards the concept of truth of the immutable laws of reality. Of cutting through the veil of manipulation. A bulwark that lies could break against. He pushed with a monumental heave of mental fortitude the essence around him. Flooded into his core statue. Slowly at first but then in a great gout that he had to staunch or be washed away. Suddenly it stopped. His core glimmering and more than half of the essence in the lake behind him gone, exposing kelp and fish that now flopped on the dry lake bed along the edges.
He gasped and focused in to see if he had been successful.
Vraxious- [Paladin Of The Cycle Tier-1] (lvl 2)
[Talents]
[Identify]
[Mana cost insignificant]
[Hunter's Ear]
[Passive]
[Forest Strider]
[Passive]
Improved Attributes
Mental defenses: 1.3
Vrax pumped his fist in victory. Fuck your brainwashing bullshit! Try that crap now! Vrax had just spent an entire level's worth of essence on what was a thirty percent increase above baseline, but he felt it was well worth it. The brain fuckery he was already able to wrench free from would barely faze him now. And he would stand a fighting chance against stronger skills.
He wanted to get his strength up some too, as well as his toughness, when he had more essence. He didn’t plan on ever being a dedicated front-line fighter slugging it out with monsters. But it would be fantastic if he could reliably pierce tougher enemies without having to rely on his smite. And being able to avoid death from a thousand small cuts would be important too. That mage had made an impression on him. That arcane bolt had pierced his flesh far too easily after breaking his armor. Hell, he would be dead from that blow to his side without his armor.
Attribute increases are a percentage increase from your baseline natural ability. And the essence cost was based on how much that attribute aligned with the spirit of your class. As a paladin, most of them should be reasonably average in cost; it wasn’t a pure melee or spellcasting class. If someone like Torvald had tried to crank up his mental defenses with his bruiser of a class, Vrax imagined it might have cost him two entire levels of essence or more to do what he just did. Not to mention someone like Torvald, with his monstrous natural strength, would get a hell of a lot more out of a thirty percent increase to his strength than Vrax would. Vrax wandered through his sanctuary, brainstorming what he would change first. He pulled himself back to his room after a good half hour of daydreaming while Devourers bobbed around him. It was time to go make some people very rich.