Chapter 29: Into the Verdant Shadows

  Marcus and the Orcs accompanying him were growing restless. They sat in silence, barely speaking, as the carriage hit every bump in the road.

  "Dammit!" Ragn growled, breaking the tense stillness. The last jolt had sent his head smacking into the roof of the carriage.

  Rubbing the fresh knot forming on his forehead, he groaned, "By the seven hells, are we almost there?"

  As if on cue, the carriage’s creaking wheels ground to a halt at the fringe of a sprawling jungle.

  "Alright, this is as far as we go," the carriage knight declared, his voice muffled by his helmet.

  "Finally," Marcus muttered, stretching his stiff limbs. Four damn days in this thing. He sighed, rolling his shoulders. Aren’t these magical worlds supposed to have some kind of instant transport? One day, when he was strong enough, he’d learn to teleport like Yara.

  "The dungeon entrance is about a day and a half southeast through the forest," the knight continued, pointing toward the dense tree line.

  With the transport now behind them, Marcus, Vira, Boruk, and Ragn stepped onto a narrow, muddy trail. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and blooming ferns.

  The party plunged into the jungle’s depths. Towering trees and twisting vines formed a labyrinth of green, and the constant murmur of unseen creatures filled the air. Shafts of light struggled through the dense canopy, and the rhythmic dripping of water provided a steady, natural beat to their journey.

  Vira led the way, her sharp eyes scanning the undergrowth and the ancient stone markers half-swallowed by nature.

  Marcus adjusted the straps of his pack and patted the small but invaluable bag of holding at his hip. Within its enchanted depths, he had extra rations, healing salves, and even a spare set of his favorite spiked gauntlets. As he moved, he could feel the combined energies of Ki, Psycha, and Mana coursing through him. He barely contained his excitement.

  Beside him, Boruk walked with the steady tension of a warrior always ready for battle, his Ki thrumming beneath his scarred hide. Ragn, meanwhile, moved like a shadow, his eyes constantly flicking between the trees, searching for any sign of ambush.

  Suddenly, Ragn raised a hand, signaling for the group to halt. He crouched, studying the ground.

  "Not good," he whispered.

  Boruk stepped closer. "What is it?"

  Ragn pointed at a set of strange tracks embedded in the damp soil. "These… I’ve only ever seen them described in the old rune texts."

  Marcus frowned. "What kind of tracks?"

  "Phasmids," Ragn muttered.

  Marcus tilted his head. "What's a Phasmid?"

  "Shhh!" The Orcs hissed in unison, throwing him annoyed glances.

  Vira answered in a hushed tone. "Insectoid monstrosities."

  Ragn's face was grim as he scanned their surroundings. "There aren’t supposed to be creatures like this on this side of the Acronian Sea… but that’s not what concerns me most."

  Boruk narrowed his eyes. "Then what’s the bad news?"

  Ragn exhaled slowly. "We’re standing in the middle of a nest."

  A heavy silence fell over the group.

  "We need to move," Ragn added.

  They pressed forward, but soon, the jungle’s ambient noise began to fade. The usual rustling of leaves, chirping insects, and distant calls of predators—all gone.

  A deep, uneasy tension gripped Marcus.

  "Not good," Boruk muttered. His hand went to his weapon. "Get ready."

  Then, from the shadowy recesses between colossal trunks, the air vibrated with an eerie hum.

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  A horde of Giant Phasmids emerged—spectral, mantis-like creatures with ebony chitin and razor-sharp limbs. Their compound eyes glowed with predatory intelligence as they advanced in coordinated waves, their movements both graceful and terrifying.

  "Enemies!" Boruk roared, hefting his massive axe just as the first Phasmid lunged.

  The tranquil jungle erupted into chaos.

  Boruk charged into the swarm with a guttural battle cry, his body reinforced with Ki. His axe swung in brutal, sweeping arcs, shattering exoskeletons with bone-rattling force. Every impact sent fragments of chitin flying, and his war cry echoed like a drumbeat of defiance, bolstering his allies.

  Ragn disappeared into the underbrush, a flicker of movement among the trees. His blades danced through the enemy ranks, striking with pinpoint precision at joints and exposed flesh. Ki-imbued agility turned him into a wraith—vanishing, reappearing, and leaving a trail of corpses in his wake.

  Vira stood firm, chanting in two discordant voices, her hands weaving intricate sigils in the air. Elemental energy surged around her, a fusion of fire and frost coalescing into a violent tempest. The spell burst forth in a blinding explosion, engulfing a cluster of Phasmids. The mix of heat and cold sundered their ebony shells, leaving behind twitching, shattered remains.

  A chime echoed in her mind—confirmation of her level-up.

  Marcus moved through the battlefield with a mix of raw power and calculated precision. His fists blurred as he infused them with Ki, each strike augmented by the destructive force of Mana and the razor-sharp focus of Psycha.

  A particularly large Phasmid lunged at him. He met it with an uppercut laced with void energy. The impact didn’t just break its exoskeleton—it liquefied its insides.

  Supercharging his mind with Psycha, Marcus moved faster than thought. He flashed from target to target, void-imbued blows turning each enemy’s insides to mush. Each kill fueled his momentum, and a familiar notification appeared in his vision.

  When the final Giant Phasmid collapsed, the jungle fell silent once more. The clearing was strewn with shattered chitin, severed limbs, and dark pools of ichor glistening in the dim light.

  For a long moment, the group stood still, their breaths heavy, adrenaline still coursing through their veins.

  Marcus met Vira’s gaze across the battlefield—a silent exchange of satisfaction and mutual respect.

  Boruk grunted, wiping blood and sweat from his face. Ragn inspected his blades, a wry smile playing on his lips.

  Marcus, eager to see his progress, pulled up his system notifications.

  ----------------------------------------------

  You defeated Phasmid: juvenile ×5

  You defeated Giant Phasmid: adult ×1

  Congratulations you've reached level 9

  Name: Marcus Elder

  Race: Human

  Class: Spell Fist (Unique)

  Level: 9

  Experience: 81/7500

  HP: 190/190

  MP: 19

  KI: 19

  PSY: 19

  Stats:

  Strength: 18 (+2)(+1)

  Agility: 15 (+2)(+1)

  Endurance: 19 (+2)(+1)

  Intelligence: 12 (+1)(+1)

  Wisdom: 10 (+1)

  Luck: 10 (+1)

  Abilities:

  The Unseen One (Mythic, Hidden): Blocks bearer's stats from intrusive minds

  Floating Butterfly, Stinging Bee: Become a storm of grace and devastation on the battle field time. Skill duration, 1 minute. Skill cool down, 3 hours. Note: do not activate skill more that 3 times in one 24 hour period, or risk severe bodily damage. (Unique)

  Second wind: once per day fully restores stamina. (Unique)

  Marks:

  Perma [Universal Magic Affinity] (Unique)

  Achievements:

  Fighting Pioneer: For creating a unique combat style and forging a new path, you have earned the title "Fighting Pioneer". Stats increased by 10%. (Mythic)

  Spell Fist Prodigy: earn your first skill before ranking up your class, reaching level 10, and spending a single stat point. Additional 5% to all stats. Applied after all other boons have been accounted for. (Legendary)

  Unallocated Points: 22

  ------------------------------------------------

  He was pleased.

  Vira ran over to him, excitement written all over her face. "I reached level 14!" she exclaimed.

  "Congratulations," Boruk grunted. "You're almost at 15—you’ll be hitting a threshold soon. Hell, you might even reach it in this delve."

  "Threshold?" Marcus asked.

  Vira nodded. "When you hit a threshold, your magic affinity increases by ten points. You're about to reach one as well." She paused, then grinned. "You leveled up in that last fight too, didn't you?"

  "Yeah... I did!" Marcus said proudly.

  "You’ll hit your first threshold at level 10," Vira continued. "And when you do, you'll also be able to level up your class. The next threshold comes at level 15."

  "What happens when I level up my class?" Marcus asked, curiosity piqued.

  Boruk interjected, "Depends. Most of the time, the system improves how easily you can use your natural magic affinity. Remember that kid Thalron? He was probably a level 2 Spell Sword. That’s why he beat your score so easily during the magic affinity showcase—he was likely holding back. Class level-ups let you use your abilities in more diverse ways."

  Marcus absorbed the information. "And in other cases?"

  Boruk rubbed his chin. "In some extremely rare cases, the system offers a completely different path."

  "Mmmhmm." Ragn nodded in agreement. "It's just a theory, but they say that if your fighting style and magic affinity differ too much from the standard system classes, you're almost guaranteed a unique class evolution."

  Marcus smirked. "Well, I guess it's not just a theory anymore."

  Vira chuckled. "Yeah, in your case, it's pretty much guaranteed."

  "Alright, alright, enough of that," Boruk said, rolling his shoulders. "Let’s get moving."

  After ensuring no hidden Phasmids lurked nearby, the party pressed deeper into the jungle. The dense foliage gradually thinned, revealing an overgrown trail marked by moss-covered stones and faded runes.

  Ahead, partially concealed by ivy and gnarled roots, an ancient stone archway stood tall—the entrance to the dungeon. Symbols etched into its weathered surface pulsed faintly with a long-dormant power. The very air around it vibrated with latent energy, as if the dungeon itself were a slumbering guardian waiting to be awakened.

  Marcus stepped forward, his gaze steady as he surveyed the dark threshold.

  "This is it," he declared.