Arcanist In Another World-Chapter 61: A Meager Price

Better to take the win than think too much about it. That’s what I’ll do.

Taking in a long, deep breath, he leaned down, wincing toward the ground, swept a little space clean of big pieces of broken tiles with the back of his hand, before sitting down. He was sensitive around the skin, the head, and every other place he could think of, and while the Templars were busy dealing with the rest of the work, he decided he might as well take some time off.

There were a lot of notifications.

[You have managed to defeat Weeping Horror (Remnant) - level 300] For killing a creature above your own level, you are granted bonus experience.

Your 1st Trial hasn’t been completed yet. The gained experience has been stored.

Your 1st Trial hasn’t been completed yet. The gained experience has been stored.

…

…

The moment he thought about them, a flood of them appeared before his eyes. Magical words hung in thick letters, and not all of them were about the experience he got from dealing with the creature. There were different ones as well.

Ding!

[Inferno (Adept) has reached level 11!]

[Gravitating Earth (Master) has reached level 8!]

[Lifesurge (Master) has reached level 15!]

[Lifeward (Master) has reached level 15!]

[Identify (Basic) has reached level 2!]

The Class Skill ‘Hexsurge - Basic’ has been registered into your skill slots.

Remaining Skill Slots: (0/10)

Valens blinked against the flurry of notifications. Dozens of them hovered before him, and picking them one by one was hard work. The skill levels he’d gotten on his most-used spells didn’t come as a surprise, but the change in Identify and his new skill was a different tale. He could now feel the intensity of the frequencies not just when he gazed around him, but also when he focused on the spell formulae in his mind.

The skills he had registered to the System until now were spells he’d used in his old world. They were his own, and save for Inferno and Fireball which he learned recently, the rest of them demanded years of work for him to learn. But now, there was a new skill. Not only that, he had no idea how he earned it.

[Hexsurge (Basic)]: The ancient masters weaved the Spiritum from the reflections of the material worlds, and perfected their masterful precision through painstaking effort. You have only grasped the means with which they started their journey. Your hold around Void is basic, but you can now influence the Spiritum and its beings.

The skill’s description revealed itself the moment Valens focused on its complex spell formula. He nearly yelped at the sudden information since this had never happened before when he was working with other spells. He could only see their levels and his mastery over them, but not sentence-long descriptions of what they truly entailed.

Is it because I’ve gained a level in Identify? Can’t be… You’re telling me that there’s a distant possibility that if I gain a bunch of levels in Identify, I could get paragraphs of descriptions of anything?

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If that were the case, then this skill could be one of his most essential tools in this world.

There was only one problem, though.

How can I gain more levels in Identify? Just by… staring at things?

He’d been doing an awful lot of staring since he came to this world, but only after gazing into the eye of a Terror and witnessing a part of the Spiritum did he gain a level in Identify. If that were an indication of the spell’s progress, then just walking about in dreary stretches of Melton wouldn’t be enough.

If I can return to the Spiritum, though, then that might just do the trick.

Talking about that dreamy land, Valens had a few notifications about his little experience in there. Notifications that gave him some important, albeit limited, information.

[You have arrived at the Spiritum.]

[You have felt the presence of an Ancient One.]

[You have no Authority upon the Land of the Fated.]

He paused. So that strange place beyond the prison of the Weeping Horror was the Land of the Fated, where he felt an all-encompassing presence press upon his soul. And even that endless stretch of frequencies seemed to be only a part of the Spiritum.

The whole thing might just be bigger than my imagination.

Trouble was, it wasn’t just a place to explore to his own satisfaction. Horrors lived there. Beings that he felt so little against. Not only that, the moment he set foot in the Land of the Fated, he knew he didn’t belong there. He was a stranger, an uninvited guest who forced his way in and tried to stay his welcome until he was banished.

That place… I want to go there again.

The notifications didn’t end there. There were more.

[You have interrupted an Ancient Ritual and sealed the Weeping Horror (Remnant).]

For sealing the Weeping Horror (Remnant), you are granted a Cursed Artifact.

[The Gate of Surges has opened.]

[The Cursed Artifact has been stored in the Vault of the Surgemasters.]

For sealing the Weeping Horror (Remnant), you are granted the title [Bane of the Shadows.]

[Bane of the Shadows - Title]: Your ancient presence is a threat to the Damned. They have no Authority upon your soul, but not all shadows are intelligent enough to heed the warnings. Lesser Damned will now be drawn to your scent. They will not be able to resist the temptation of the forgotten. Greater Damned will be more cautious in engaging you. You gain resistance to shadow-based attacks and become more sensitive to their presence. You gain the ability to influence their thoughts.

Valens sucked in a deep breath. His mind worked overtime to process such an amount of information before he decided to check the gate within his chest cavity. The name ‘Gate of Surges’ sounded interesting, and the mention of Surgemasters sent a shiver down his spine.

After all, the Undead Lich, Lord Zahul had called him ‘young Surgemaster’ in their secret little conversation.

What do we have here—

Strong steps sounded as Valens saw through his sound vision a figure walking toward him. Captain Edric seemed like a mighty pillar still standing strong, one hand resting over the sheath of his sword, the other waving gently by his side, his golden armor stubbornly clean even after dealing with all that destruction.

I’ll take a look after we’re done here.

Unwilling he might be, he had already lost himself in the string of notifications to the point that he forgot where he was. He would have time to go over them later. Pick each one of them apart, and… Valens looked down at his body. Pick out some new clothes, too.

Not the Templars, no. It’s always the Healer who needs another set of clothes. I wonder if I should take that as a message? Perhaps shadows can’t breach the ranks of sacred warriors, but have no qualms about taking a chance against the Healers?

Looking at his coat and trousers, Valens guessed there had to be some truth in there since his new clothes and the boots had braved the Weeping Horror’s assaults with nothing but courage. There had been a time when he was fine walking about a cave with bare feet. There had been a time when that was his normal.

But now, a part of him died when he saw patches of wool hanging stupidly down from his clothes.

Surely, I deserve better than this.

“We’ll get you some new clothes,” Captain Edric said when he came nearby, managing a little smile upon his lips that didn’t indicate whether he was relieved to see Valens was still alive, or that he had doubts about his origins and didn’t quite know what to make of him.

Can’t blame him now, can I? I didn’t know I had an ancient soul as well.

“Might as well go with some quality leather this time, captain,” Valens said with an equally small smile to match Captain Edric’s unreadable face. “Or plates. I’d love to get my hands on some plates, golden or silver, for this whole journey has taught me one painful lesson."

“Oh?” Captain Edric cocked his head. “Go on, tell me what it is.”

“You can never have too much armor,” Valens confessed.

“It’s my fault,” the captain said heavily, the smile slipping from his lips. “I shouldn’t have brought you here. It was a trap meant for us.”

“And you walked right into it,” Valens said. He didn’t know much about Captain Edric, but after what little he’d seen until now, he could reasonably say that the captain wasn’t a senseless man, nor was he the type who would put his team purposefully into a deadly situation. “You must’ve had your reasons.”

“Reasons?” Captain Edric shook his head. “We don’t have much use for them, Valens. It’s our job to walk into traps, to either cleanse the filth or get swallowed by it. Every Templar knows the risks. You, however, didn’t. I’ve been a fool to think I can protect you in case things go wrong. A damn fool, indeed.”

“I—”

“And I’ve been a fool to believe you’re just a man with few secrets who happens to share some qualities with Hexmenders,” Captain Edric cut him off sharply. “I know what you did,” he said, face hardening. “You have faced the Remnant with your soul. Opened your core against it. Your whole being. It could’ve devoured you. One single crack upon your shell, then it would’ve seeped in. You were a fool for trying that. An ignorant fool lucky to live to tell the tale.”

“Strange that it’s always the ignorant who get lucky,” Valens said to him, facing his sharp gaze with calm. “I guess there’s a reason for that. Once you know too many things, you start thinking too much about the possibilities.”

“Shadows take you. You could’ve died, kid!” Captain Edric stared at him as though Valens proved a way more stubborn rock than he’d thought—one that would break right away. “Or what, were you thinking that little mark you carry in your pocket would earn you the glory you seek? You think there’s honor in turning into an Undead to fight in the Eternal War?”

Valens felt his left pocket of the coat. Resting inside was the little mark the Undead Lich, Lord Zahul, gave him when they were done with the Rift. The Lich told him that this mark would bring him to the Depths when he died. Valens could still remember the eagerness with which the Lich uttered those words, and that silent conversation they had together… Lord Zahul knew this would happen. He felt the blazing desire inside of him.

“I appreciate the concern, Captain,” Valens said simply, coldly, as he raised his chin. “But there seems to be a misunderstanding. You didn’t force me to come here. Nobody did. I wanted in. I wanted to see the reason of that sickness. I wanted to become a part of this. And I have no intention to put any blame on anyone here, because there’s no blame to be taken from any of this."

“What do you mean?” Captain Edric narrowed his eyes.

Valens raised a finger toward the dead husk of the creature. “There’s no blame, because thanks to you, I got what I wanted. The sickness is no more, and those Miners can now sleep sound in their precious little town. That’s enough for me.”

Captain Edric went silent as he gazed at him. Seemed as though he was trying to see through Valens’ intentions, to understand whether he was sincere in his words, to find a way to silence the guilt in his heart.

Valens smiled at him.

It was true.

He had gotten what he needed from this forgotten crypt. A lot more than what he hoped, if he was being honest, but nothing was more important than that little change in his Trial.

Evercrest… I don’t know who you are, but at least I know where to find you now.

……