Finding a food stall around the corner on Central Street was surprisingly easy. After a brief but enlightening conversation about prices, Sarah, realizing the extent of her newfound wealth, bought the vendor's entire stock. Not exactly wealthy in the grand scheme of things, but the few dozen silver coins in her pouch were far more than she'd initially thought.
Learning that the average person scraped by on five bronze a day, subsisting on meager meals and barely habitable lodgings, put the cost of her trials into perspective. They weren't exorbitant at all; they were, dare she say, quite fair. Ariel must have designed it that way, catering to both the wealthy and the less fortunate.
It was a good system. It could help people rise from poverty, given enough trials. Not everyone needed Intelligence, after all. But based on that scale, Sarah, with her few dozen silver, was already comfortably well-off. Who knew people would pay so readily for a chance to boost their intelligence?
Each skewer cost one bronze, a joint of meat five. The cost of living, compared to the trials, was far less than Sarah had imagined, yet people were willing to pay. And that was what mattered in business. Because that's what the tower was. Her business.
Two dozen skewers and ten joints of meat, totaling less than eight silver, disappeared as Sarah placed an extra coin on the counter. "For service with a smile," she said, beaming. The thrill of being able to buy food so freely bubbled up inside her. She skipped back to the tower, the white Necromancer robes billowing slightly around her.
He didn't even bat an eyelid. Not to my clothes anyway.
Sarah had decided to keep wearing the Necromancer outfit. Its distinctive look, combined with its practical features, made her reluctant to change. She was curious to see how people would react. The answer, so far, was underwhelming. A few passing glances on her way to and from the tower were the extent of the attention she received.
After Leo’s revelation about the rarity of (Identify), Sarah’s worries about being recognized as some evil sorceress had significantly lessened. That single fact solidified her decision to remain in her striking attire, rejecting the drab green she’d originally worn.
The occasional glance she received, which she assumed was due to the vibrant nature of the dark mage’s clothing, was accompanied by a passing smile. A couple of people even bowed. It seemed her fears of public condemnation were unfounded.
I look more like a holy lady than a Necromancer, she laughed, the sound finally ringing true after days of forced smiles. "Make way. Saint Sarah coming through!"
[Really? Saint Sarah?] Azrael voice echoed back, laced with amusement.
"What? I'm only joking," Sarah chuckled, her voice trailing off as she stopped before the oddly charming, cottage-dressed tower. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted from the nearby bakery, mingling with the crisp autumn air. Sarah's gaze drifted to Ariel's sign, prominently displayed on the tower wall, its lettering bold and eye-catching:
Trial of Intelligence!
- Defeat the Game Master in Wartide to earn permanent stat points, or time-based buffs, in Intelligence.
- Prices are subject to change and set for each trial.
- Aggression towards staff will not be tolerated, and participants will be removed by force if they fail to adhere to this very simple rule.
A throng of eager customers, a mix of seasoned adventurers and curious newcomers, queued down the cobblestone street, their excited chatter creating a low hum. "So that's what it's called here," Sarah mused, tapping a fingernail against the rough-hewn stone of the tower's base. "Doesn't make it any different, though. All the pieces look and move the same."
She was pleased with Ariel's brief but alluring description. It must have been hard to come up with something both enticing and descriptive, especially with the Master still sulking in her chambers about not being able to take the trial herself. Sarah could almost picture the Master's pouty face.
Stepping into the tower's cool, Sarah pulled out a beautifully decorated cake she'd picked up at the bakery on her way back, the aroma of sweet spices and rich cream filling the air. She presented it to Ariel, praising her hard work on the sign and the general organization of the bustling trial.
The petite receptionist's face, usually reserved and professional, lit up with genuine joy, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink. Sarah smiled warmly, then began making her way up the winding staircase to the Master's room, only to be stopped at the top of the first flight by an anxious Sebastian, his brow furrowed and his hands clasped tightly in front of him.
"W-Welcome back, Master. Please, I have a request." Sarah was curious to see what had Sebastian so tense, so she allowed him to continue. "Since you granted Miss Ariel permission to inhabit the young girl's body, I was perhaps wondering if I could do the same to the boy?"
Hearing that her worries were misplaced—not entirely, however—Sarah smiled at her butler. She then noticed that he was acting exactly the same way Ariel did when she had posed the very same question.
"Of course you can, Sebastian," she said. "I was going to offer you the same anyway."
Sebastian disappeared into thin air, causing Sarah to sigh, a fresh wave of disappointment washing over her. Is it just me? Am I the ugly duckling? she wondered. Can you teleport, Azrael?
[Unfortunately not, Master. What is a duckling?]
It's a baby duck, not that it's important, she thought, continuing her journey upstairs. At the top, Sarah drank from the Water of Sin before heading to her room. She was greeted by a pouting Solus and, after promising to summon him a new friend now that Sebastian had been put to work, was eventually let in. She had been growing concerned that another death might have been on the cards, but thankfully, it wasn't to be.
Sarah dreaded the task of babysitting the old door that was supposed to guard her room. The notion that the last master had committed suicide after hearing Solus prattle on for too long was a distinct possibility.
The damned door had stories pouring out of its frame, and it was a trial in itself listening to him go on and on without falling asleep. If it wasn't for the power Sarah knew he possessed firsthand, Solus would have already been shipped off downstairs and turned into trial number two.
The familiar crackle of the hearth welcomed Sarah home as she shrugged off her travel-worn cloak and unloaded the day's hunt from her enchanted ring. The runic-preservation shelf, once sparsely stocked, now overflowed with cured meats and foraged goods.
A sigh of relief escaped her lips. Starvation was a distant worry now. Not only had she secured a reliable food supply, but the industrious souls inhabiting her tower had also generated a steady income during her slumber. Best of all? She hadn't died in almost forty-eight hours.
A genuine smile touched her lips. She felt… Good.
Settling into her favorite chair by the fire, Sarah savored the roasted pheasant, tearing off succulent pieces until she was almost sated. Then came the cake, a decadent concoction of honey and spice that melted in her mouth. It was heavenly.
"That was wonderful," she murmured, leaning back with a contented sigh. "I can't believe all that food cost so little." The gnawing anxiety of hunger, a constant companion for so long, had finally receded. It was a weight lifted, a burden eased. Sarah retrieved her staff from her ring and laid it across her lap.
With a practiced eye, she began to assess its intricate carvings, comparing them against the subtle enchantments woven into her clothing and the inherent bonuses of her class. She was calculating the cumulative effect of her accumulated power, eager to see the tangible results of her recent escapades.
There was her clothes:
Robe of the Necromancer: Rare
- Part of a two piece set
- Boosts Necromancy by 200%
- Boosts Natural Regeneration by 200%
- When concealed beneath the hood, become undetectable.
- Self Cleaning.
- Self Repair
Shoes of the Necromancer: Rare
- Part of a two piece set
- Boosts Necromancy by 200%
- Boosts Natural Regeneration 100%
- Comfort is improved 100% and the color will adjust to match any outfit
- Self Cleaning
- Self Repair
And the bonus that came with it being a two-piece set.
Outfit of the Necromancer: 2/2
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- Boost all stats by 100% when the garments is supplied with mana: 20MP/second
- Boosts Necromancy by 200%
- Boosts Natural Regeneration by 200%
Her class.
Necromancer:
- Through prolonged contact with the undead, death itself gathers around you. This odd branch of necromancy concentrates of assimilating death energy inside the user's body. Beware, necromancers are treated with disdain at the best of times throughout the entire world. It would be wise to keep your power hidden until you can raise your strength, or an army.
- Boost Necromancy 100%
- Boost Natural Regeneration 100%
Her weapon.
Staff of Death: Unique
- Created with branches taken from the Devil's Tree, the Staff of Death is now a relic of the past. Increases the user's stats by double when supplied with mana. Necromancy will not fail when cast with the Staff of Death. Necromancy is twice as effective when cast with the Staff of Death.
- Doubles stats when supplied with Mana: 20MP/second
And even her most recent skill got in on the act.
(Death's Epiphany)
- Grant a just end to those who deserve it. Sinners witness their own transgressions through the eyes of a clean slate and are judged by themselves. Death's Epiphany has a 10% chance to absorb some of the deceased stats.
- Boosts Necromancy by 300%
It was overwhelming. So potent was her Necromancy that if she stood naked in a field, it would have a base boost of 400%. The ornate, white outfit she wore amplified it to 700%, and channeling mana through them pushed it even further, to a staggering 900%. Then there was the staff. A twisted-looking thing pulsing with a lilac hue, it doubled her already ludicrous stats when properly fueled. The numbers turning absurd.
And the truly terrifying part? She was still growing stronger.
"Not that I'm complaining," Sarah murmured, tapping a fingernail against the gem at the top of her staff. Its reflective surface let her gaze upon herself. "But with all this… Stuff… shouldn't I be practically invincible? It does make you wonder, though..." Her brow furrowed, the glow of her status screen reflecting in her eyes. "How did the last Master die? I know where he fell – he's at the bottom of the tower, like a dropped doll. But the how and why are the mystery.
He should have held the same titles I do now, presumably had similar augmentations… Shouldn't he have been just as ridiculously overpowered?" She scrolled through the glowing runes of her status screen, the numbers blurring. "It just doesn't make sense. How could someone with this kind of power… Just fall?" A chill ran down her spine, a prickle of unease amidst the burgeoning power. The thought wasn't reassuring; it was terrifying. (Immortality) wasn't infallible.
Name: Sarah-Jane Kemp
Class: Necromancer - 3
Title: What Death? (4)
Class Skills:
- Create Undead - 2
- Eyes of Death - 2
- Necrotic Body - 1
- Necrotic Soul - 4
- Form of the Necromancer - 3
- Revigorize
Skills:
- Identify - 2
- Mana Manipulation - 1
- Deception - 2
- Fear Resistance - 4
- Lightning Resistance - 2
- Pain Resistance - 3
Unique Skills:
- Universal Language
- Immortality
- Second Chance
- Indomitable Will
- Breathless
- Death's Epiphany
Status:
- Strength: 40
- Vitality: 86
- Dexterity: 32
- Endurance: 41
- Intelligence: 47
- Wisdom: 67
Health: 960/960
Stamina: 510/510
Mana: 770/770
Unspent Points: 10
Sarah carefully allocated her unspent points to Wisdom. A flicker of doubt crossed her mind – perhaps Dexterity would be a wiser investment, evening out her somewhat lopsided stats. But the unsettling thoughts of the previous master, his mysterious demise, lingered. Boosting her mana felt paramount, a crucial safeguard. The potential to double her stats, provided she could fuel it, was too tempting to ignore.
It's a shame I can't just grind stats through my trials, she mused, recalling the meager gains in Strength and Endurance after her recent workout. Or maybe not trials, but hard work... surely that counts for something? The hopeful thought was quickly dashed.
[The higher your base stat, the longer it takes to improve it through repetitive action.]
"So, how do I gain stat points quickly?" Sarah asked, frustration creeping into her tone.
[By defeating opponents,] Azrael replied. [You absorb a portion of their accumulated life experience, which fuels your class leveling. Each level grants you a set amount of fixed and unspent points.]
A chill ran down Sarah's spine. "So, I have to kill people?" The thought was deeply unsettling, despite her need for souls.
[There are other options, Master. Monsters, for example. Or wanted criminals.]
"Monsters?" Sarah's interest piqued. "Actual, honest-to-god monsters? Not just metaphorical ones walking around on two legs?"
[Indeed, Master. The world holds many truly dangerous creatures. They offer substantial experience, but you are not yet equipped to face them.]
"Damn right I'm not," Sarah muttered. No rushing into suicide missions. "I'm not about to tangle with anything monstrous right off the bat. I need to start small, get a feel for what I'm up against. Where would I find something… manageable?"
She wondered about the pace of class advancement through combat. Two levels in four days felt sluggish, but then again, she hadn't exactly been on a monster-slaying spree. Maybe a little necromancing around town wouldn't hurt... she thought wryly.
[Most likely outside the city, Master.]
"Obviously," Sarah sighed. "Where else would I find monsters?"
Sarah left her room with a renewed sense of purpose, bidding a silent farewell to the brooding Solus. Sebastian, now inhabiting the reanimated corpse, was already engrossed in a trial, his master observing with a satisfied smile. It was a bizarre situation. Yesterday, she'd had an Immortal Receptionist and a Butler. Today, thanks to the necromantic arts, they were… almost real. Souls trapped within borrowed flesh. A macabre, twisted version of motherhood.
Descending to the ground floor, Sarah found the seating area bustling, a queue snaking out the door.
This trial is far more popular than I anticipated. she thought. Though I’m fairly certain a glorified game of chess isn’t what the Tower of Death is supposed to be used for. Still, it’s bringing in the coin. Not so much the souls, but I can purchase food with them anyway so...
"I'll be back shortly, Ariel," she said to the receptionist. "If anyone manages to defeat Sebastian, I'll bestow their blessings upon my return." With a brief wave, Sarah stepped out into the vibrant street. The warm evening air brushed against her skin, and she paused, a fleeting moment of gratitude washing over her. Gratitude for the simple pleasures, for the fact that she was still alive to experience them.
Time to test out my stealth skills on the way to the guard house, she mused, melting into the midday crowd like a phantom in pale linen. The cowl of her white robes shadowed her face, obscuring her features as she drifted towards Leo's place of employment.
Despite the brightness of her attire, she was utterly invisible, a ghost in the bustling marketplace. I could probably stroll naked through this crowd and no one would bat an eye, she thought, a smirk playing on her lips. To test the theory – well, the spirit of the theory – she chose a mark, a portly fellow engrossed in haggling over spices. Slipping through the throng like smoke, she materialized behind him as he paid.
Her stealth training, however, was immediately compromised by a far more pressing concern: the aroma wafting from the vendor’s stall. White meat kebabs. Silk Rabbit, Identify’s irritatingly helpful voice echoed in her mind. Sarah was close enough to pluck a succulent morsel right off the skewer, the sizzling meat practically begging to be devoured. Discipline, however, prevailed. Business before pleasure, she reminded herself, though her stomach rumbled in protest.
They really act like I'm not here, she thought, the earlier amusement curdling into something darker. The last master must have been a colossal idiot to get himself killed in the Waters of Sin with gear like this. A mental note was made: Return for kebabs. Priority: high. The street pulsed with life, a vibrant tapestry of sights and smells, and the unseen necromancer threaded her way through it like a needle through cloth, until she reached her destination.
"Guard House 3" loomed before her, the stark lettering a stark contrast to the colorful chaos of the market. Outside, the two guards on duty seemed carved from granite, utterly impervious to her presence. Sarah slipped in without issue, approached the desk, a small, unassuming figure in her white robes, and introduced herself to the most bored-looking of the two. Still, she remained unseen, unheard.
This hood is truly a marvel, she chuckled. It’s almost insulting. Seriously, how incompetent was my predecessor?
Finally, she pulled back her cowl, revealing her face. "Hello," she said, her voice carrying a hint of steel. "My name is Sarah Kemp. I'm here to see Guard Captain Leo." The guard, roused from his stupor, blinked at her as if she’d materialized from thin air. Dark circles underscored his eyes, hinting at a chronic lack of sleep. "What're you supposed to be?" he mumbled, his tone bordering on rude.
"Are you deaf, or just deliberately obtuse?" Sarah’s inner Lance Corporal snapped to attention. "My name is Sarah Kemp, and I am here to see Guard Captain Leo!"
The guard, startled by her sudden shift in demeanor, fumbled in a drawer and produced a runic device. Not the one Sarah had seen previously. Rookie, she thought, observing the nervous twitch in his hand. The runes flared, casting an eerie glow, and then faded, leaving the air thick with unspoken words. The guard jerked a thumb towards the waiting area. "If you would."
Sarah, her patience wearing thin, remained planted. "Is that it? Is he coming?" The guard rolled his eyes, a gesture that grated on her nerves.
"Have you never seen runic communication before? Are you some kind of backwater simpleton?" he sneered. Sarah’s hand twitched, itching to unleash Form of the Necromancer and rearrange his facial features but knowing better. Just as she was about to give him a lesson in manners, however, a familiar voice cut through the tension.
"Back so soon?" Leo greeted her, stepping through a side door.
"Information gathering," she replied, her voice smooth again. "And I decided to come to the source instead of lurking about like a suspicious character."
"Depends on what kind of information," Leo chuckled. "If it's about the bank, you're fresh out of luck."
"Are you two talking about the guild bank?!" the desk guard blurted, his eyes widening.
"Shut up, Holden. It's a joke," Leo said, his tone hardening. He glanced at the guard, his feline features creased with concern. "When was the last time you slept? You look like death warmed over."
"Sorry, Captain. It's… Been a long shift," Holden mumbled, his earlier arrogance replaced by nervous deference.
They respect Leo here, Sarah observed. Makes sense, him being the captain and all. Still, it’s a little unnerving, considering he’s a walking mountain of muscle with a temper that could probably melt steel.
"Get a replacement, for Kor's sake," Leo said to Holden. "We don't need you alienating every visitor." He turned to Sarah. "Shall we?"
Sarah followed Leo through the echoing cell blocks, up two flights of stairs, and along a surprisingly elegant corridor. "Come in," he said, ushering her into his office. "It's a bit of a mess. Paperwork isn't my forte."
A bit? Sarah thought, stepping inside. The room was a monument to bureaucratic chaos. Piles of documents, some precariously balanced, others collapsed like fallen soldiers, covered every conceivable surface. Messy, messy lion.
"So, Miss Kemp," Leo said, settling behind his desk. "To what do I owe this… Pleasure?"
Sarah arched an eyebrow. "First," she said, "that sounded incredibly suggestive. You're paying for my services, remember? Rephrase that, or just never say it again. Second, you could use some speechcraft lessons from Ariel. She has a much smoother delivery. And finally, which has nothing to do with what I want, You can't help me until I've helped you."
"What do you mean?" Leo asked, a flicker of apprehension in his golden eyes.
Sarah grinned, a flash of white teeth in the shadow of her hood. "It's time for a little… Spring cleaning, soldier!"
Leo groaned, a deep rumble in his chest. "Nooooo…"
