Chapter 4

Zeth eagerly awaited his next Level.

Despite how much he wanted to just sprint right to town, see his parents and his sister, fill his belly with food, and get rest in a quality bed, he had an obligation. Get as strong as possible, as quickly as possible, so he could kill that damn mage. That meant doing the Empowerment Ritual now and not later. Besides, he had no idea where he’d even do something like that in town without getting seen.

So after drinking his fill from the stream, he sat on the bank and found a good place to work. His hands shook slightly from the hunger—now that he could see the sun, he realized it was morning, meaning he must’ve gone all day and night without food or sleep—but he pushed through. Just a few hours of work and he’d have it.

Zeth found a wide, flat stone a dozen feet off shore that was large enough to fit the Empowerment Ritual circle, glancing at the Skill’s requirements to double check. Strength of sacrifice required was still Low, the diameter had moved up to three feet, the minimum time required to draw was up to an insane six hours, and the upkeep time required each day—he still didn’t know what that meant—was an hour and ten minutes.

The six hour drawing requirement was the tough one. It’d consistently gone up by two additional hours per Level so far. Though, he hoped he might have some recourse against that growing requirement. Back when he’d hit Ritual Circle Mastery Rank 5, he’d unlocked a new Skill that seemed extremely useful.

[Vile Focus - Cost: 8 Skill Points

Your mind is sharpened and honed while creating ritual circles, allowing you to make fewer mistakes and become less distracted during the art.

Decreases each of the required diameter of your ritual circles, the amount of time required to draw ritual circles, and the upkeep time required each day by 2.5% per Rank in this Skill.]

Zeth currently had only two Skill Points, having spent them all on Hellfire Ritual and only Ranked it up twice so far, so the eight point cost for Vile Focus was out of his price range, but he felt like that was likely what he wanted next. If he could get it up to Rank ten, that would cut down on the requirements of his ritual circles by a significant margin. Besides, at a cost of only eight Skill Points, it would end up profiting him points by the time he got it to the maximum Rank of ten anyway.

So, hoping this next Level would bring him another Skill to add to his plan-to-purchase list, Zeth got to work drawing.

By now, he’d gotten pretty good at the routine. He first used his finger to trace the wide base circle, which only took a couple hours, and then he got to work on the detailing. Really, it was almost fun to work on, creating complex sigils and designs within the circle itself, guided by his subconscious as to what they needed to look like exactly. Occasionally he’d sit back on his feet, sighing and gazing upon his partially-complete creation, before getting back to work.

Originally, much of the difficulty of drawing ritual circles had come from mental exertion, the withdrawal of mana being an extremely taxing thing to do for someone as untrained as him, but at this point, it wasn’t so bad. Blood Magus’s Rarity was S, giving him an absurd thirteen total Stats per Level, with seven of those Stats being dedicated to Shaping—more points were given to that single Stat than many Classes gave in total. So even with just a couple Levels under his belt, Zeth’s fourteen in Shaping was still quite the massive number.

Really, he almost felt like the physical exertion of drawing was the worst part now. Maybe it was just because he was so hungry and tired, but his arms ached from drawing the intricate patterns on the stone for hours on end, his knees sore from supporting his weight for so long and his joints throbbing with pain. But regardless, he carried on.

Eventually, he finished. It took a long time—the sun was now halfway through the sky—but he was done. His largest circle yet.

Zeth stood and sighed, gazing down at his masterwork.

He unscrewed the cap to his waterskin and unceremoniously turned it upside-down, the liquid gushing out and sinking into the rock below. As the last few drops hit the stone, the completion percent hit one hundred, and he got the notification he’d been waiting for.

[Blood Magus’s Level has increased to 3.

+3 Endurance. Your Endurance is 15.

+1 Awareness. Your Awareness is 3.

+2 Poise. Your Poise is 6.

+7 Shaping. Your Shaping is 21.

+3 Skill Points. You have 5 Skill Points.]

he thought.

[Requirement fulfilled: Blood Magus Level 3.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

You have unlocked Blood Magus Skill: Forbidden Knowledge.]

He smiled.

With growing anticipation, he read through the Skill’s description.

[Forbidden Knowledge - Cost: 25 Skill Points

The first Skill that is entirely unique to the Blood Magus Class. If used properly and carefully, can be the strongest font of power provided by the Class, but can also be what brings about the holder of the Class’s ultimate destruction.

Forms a tenuous connection between the holder of this Skill and the Eighteenth Realm, allowing both communication and gifts to travel between.]

Zeth’s excited smile morphed into a horrified frown as he read and re-read the description.

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Zeth knew first-hand how horrifying the Sixth Realm was, and he’d only seen the most basic monsters that came from that place. A portal opening to a realm beyond that would be an empire-wide event. He’d heard stories about a powerful Skill that could open a portal to the Ninth Realm—the Fae Realm—and how much chaos was brought to the area when a powerful person was stupid enough to actually use it.

The Eighteenth Realm. He repeated it over and over in his head in disbelief.

As you got deeper and deeper in the list of realms, the gaps in power grew more and more intense. Some argued that the gods were what resided in the final realm.

The final realm was the Nineteenth.

Zeth was being told he could form a connection with the Eighteenth.

He was terrified by the fact that he even had this Skill listed on his Status, much less with the idea of purchasing and activating it. What would it even do? It allowed ‘gifts to travel between’ the Eighteenth Realm and his own? What were these gifts? Could some unknowable being decide “my gift for you is death” and that was it?

Zeth hadn’t even looked into what scholars theorized was contained within the Eighteenth Realm. He’d heard offhand mentions of the Realms enough to be able to remember the first ten or so, but when it got that far, did anyone even have the faintest clue as to what was there?

He breathed.

He got his Stats and Skill Points; that was all he needed. Technically, he could’ve put some number of Skill Points into increasing his Stats further—each Skill Point could be exchanged for three points in any single Stat—but at least for now, his Skill Points were much too valuable to waste on something like that.

Zeth sighed, forcing thoughts of that Skill out of his mind and allowing a smile to spread across his face. He was going home. For some reason, he missed it dearly, despite the fact he’d only been gone for less than twenty-four hours. It was like his subconscious felt like he’d been gone for much, much longer. Maybe facing death just did that to you.

Either way, he was eager to return.

He oriented himself, then set off.

It didn’t take long before buildings came into view. Zeth trudged forward, filled with a new wave of energy. Civilization was in sight.

He almost collapsed when he felt the cobblestone roads beneath his feet. Maybe it was relief, or maybe he was far hungrier than he realized, but he felt like he was about to pass out. Leaning on the edge of a nearby house, he caught his breath, then forced himself to keep walking.

A couple people gave him some weird looks as he passed them by. This neighborhood was on the opposite side of town that he lived in, so most of their faces weren’t familiar, but he imagined anyone in any neighborhood would do a double-take at an exhausted, mud-covered man walking through the streets clutching a laceration leaking blood all along his arm.

A minute later, he was walking through the town square, dozens of people bustling around and shopkeepers shouting their offerings out into the crowd. Coming from the empty, silent caves, Zeth felt slightly overwhelmed returning to such a busy place. He stopped for a second in the middle of the square to catch his bearings.

Then, someone grabbed his shoulder from behind, and Zeth almost turned and threw a punch right there. Was it the mage? He hadn’t thought they would recognize his face from the dark mineshaft, or that they’d attack him in the middle of a populated area even if they did recognize him, but maybe—

“Zeth?” a voice said.

He turned, frowning at the face staring back at him. “Turin? Wait, no, you’re not…”

Standing in front of him was a man who almost looked like his friend Turin, but couldn’t possibly be him. Turin was clean-shaven, and his hair was shorter, while this man looked like he’d grown out his beard for at least a month. Who was he?

The man’s face broke into an expression of relief. “Oh, thank the gods! You’re okay!”

“I…Yeah, I am. But, who are you?”

At Zeth’s words, his expression immediately morphed to worry. “Did you lose your memories, or something? Where have you worked for the past few years? What’s this town called?”

“What? No, I didn’t lose my memories. I work at Otis and Roul’s, and we’re in Mountainfort right now.”

He frowned. “Then…I’m Turin. You know me, right? Where have you been this whole time?”

“...No, you can’t be Turin,” Zeth said. “Turin didn’t have a beard, to start with.”

“Huh? Oh, right, I stopped shaving after you disappeared. Listen, are you okay? You’re acting weird.”

“No,” Zeth said, “you are. How did you grow out a whole beard in such a short time?”

He glanced around himself. Had he fallen victim to some sort of illusion magic? Was someone trying to impersonate his friend?

“Zeth.” The voice of the man claiming to be Turin called Zeth’s attention back to him. He wore a worried frown on his face. “How long do you think you’ve been away?”

“...A day, maybe?”

“No, Zeth. It’s been four months.”