CHAPTER 70: VARNACITE VEIN [5]

[Ding!]

[Ding!]

[Ding!]

[Ding!]

[You have slain a Mutated Hound!]

[You have slain a Mutated Hound!]

[Exp +1120]

[Exp +1125]

[DP +100]

[DP +100]

[You have ranked up!]

[Congratulations host, you have learned a new sword art!]

[Scorchblade Arts!]

[Exp +1000]

[DP +500]

[Skill tree: Basic Fire spell, Scorchblade Arts! (S)]

[Scorchblade Arts: First Form- Flame Blade]

[Ignites the weapon with condensed flame essence. Each strike sears through armor and flesh, burning enemies from the inside out and leaves behind smoldering wounds. Prolonged contact may cause internal combustion.]

A series of notifications flashed briefly across Alaric’s vision.

But he dismissed them without reading

He didn’t have any time right now.

The beasts weren’t done yet.

Alaric exhaled slowly.

Scorchblade Arts, huh?

The name made him smirk, even in the middle of battle.

His grip tightened on the sword’s hilt, and he shifted into a combat stance that felt both foreign and familiar, his body adapting to techniques that hadn’t existed moments before.

The blade hummed with residual heat, eager to taste more blood.

Sari finished her own opponent with a vicious thrust between its ribs, then spun to place her back against his.

"That was..." Sari’s voice came, low, carrying a note of disbelief. "That... was impressive."

Alaric didn’t respond.

He couldn’t as another pair of beasts lunged at them from the front and rear.

[Flame Blade!]

He stepped forward.

A flaming arc sliced through one creature’s neck, severing it in a flash of red and orange.

[Flame Blade!]

A second beast leapt in, and Alaric turned with a half-spin, carved through the beast’s skull like butter, splitting bone and brain in a spray of hissing steam. The creature dropped without even a death cry.

[You have slain a Mutated Hound!]

[Exp +1120]

[DP +100]

[You have slain a Mutated Hound!]

[Exp +975]

[DP +100]

[You have ranked up!]

But then—

His breath caught.

His shoulders slumped.

His vision blurred for just a second.

Panting, he dropped to one knee, sword braced in the soil.

What the hell?

His hand trembled. The fire on the blade dimmed.

He blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the dizziness.

He could feel it, his Essence leaking out faster than his body could handle.

Flame Blade.

It was strong. Visceral. But every swing drank from him.

If he kept going like this—

He wouldn’t last ten more minutes.

But even as exhaustion clouded his vision, the tide began to turn.

The surviving guards, rallied by the sight of effective resistance, pressed their attacks with renewed vigor.

Sari moved like death incarnate, her blade finding vital points with surgical precision.

One by one, the creatures fell.

The last beast died with Sari’s blade through its throat, collapsing in a heap beside its packmates. The forest fell silent except for the ragged breathing of the survivors and the distant calls of carrion birds already circling overhead.

Alaric let the sword tip toward the ground, his arms trembling with exhaustion.

They had survived.

Not all, but enough.

Of the original group that entered this forested nightmare, barely more than half remained. The rest lay scattered across the clearing—some torn apart, others barely recognizable.

"Bloody hell," one of the Stonevile miners breathed, staring at the carnage surrounding Alaric and Sari.

"Did you see what that lad did with his sword?"

"And the woman," another voice added with grudging respect. "She must’ve killed half of them herself."

Henrik emerged from behind. "We can’t stay here," he announced.

"The blood will draw scavengers, and where there’s one pack of Menace-class beasts, there’s usually more nearby."

The old miner’s eyes found Alaric and Sari among the survivors. "Thank you, young lady and master. Without your intervention, we’d all be feeding the forest floor right now."

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the surviving party members.

Alaric and Sari only gave a brief nod.

Then they all gathered what gear they could salvage and began moving deeper into the forest, their formation looser now but more alert.

After perhaps half an hour of cautious progress, Henrik called a halt in a small clearing surrounded by thick-trunked oaks.

"We’ll rest here briefly," he announced. "Check your wounds, share your water. But stay ready to move."

The others collapsed gratefully onto fallen logs and moss-covered stones, the adrenaline of combat finally giving way to exhaustion and the dull ache of minor injuries.

Some tended wounds with strips torn from their cloaks, others simply sat in stunned silence, processing how close they’d all come to death.

Alaric found himself leaning against a tree trunk, his breathing finally returning to normal. The stolen sword lay across his knees.

He took out a vial of potion he got from Sari in the morning and gulped it down in one go.

Throwing the empty container to side, he leaned his head back.

Tap! Tap!

Then soft sound of footsteps made him turn to his side, only to see Sari coming towards him.

Then without any word, she dropped beside him.

None of them spoke for a moment.

Then Sari broke the silence.

"Care to tell what that was?" she asked, eyes still fixed ahead. "How you did it?"

Alaric glanced sideways, his expression unreadable.

"I don’t know," he said honestly. "It just... came to me. Before I knew it... it just happened."

"Hm?" Her brow furrowed. She turned to him, studying his face for signs of evasion.

When he said nothing more, she gave a soft snort. "Okay, don’t tell me. Keep your secrets."

He arched a brow, turning his head toward her fully now. "I am telling the truth. Believe it if you want. And if you don’t?"

He shrugged. "I couldn’t care less."

Sari shot him a sideways look, lips tightening for a brief second.

But then she exhaled through her nose and looked away, muttering under her breath.

"Tch... annoying."

Then Alaric looked down at the sword and then at his hands.

Then he muttered inwardly, Status.

[STATUS WINDOW]

Name: Brandon (Past Life: Alaric Noir)

Race: Human

Age: 19

Title: Slave, Model Servant, (The Fallen King)

Essence Path: The Path of #$#&##@##

Sub-Path: Flame Essence

Rank: E+

EXP: 930 / 1800— 1770 / 3900

Stats:

STR: 56 — 60

AGI: 51 — 55

END: 49 — 53

WIL: 35 — 39

CHA: 41 — 45

INT: 39 (??) — 43 (??)

Free stats points: 0 — 12

Domination Points: 310 — 1210

Main Quest: Subjugate Selene Glimore (64% Progressed)

System Level: 2 (Requires 3000 Domination Points to Upgrade)

Skill Tree: Basic Fire spell, Scorchblade Arts (S)

Shop: Basic Tier Items

Obedience Meter: Target Not Found!

Loyalty Meter: Target not found!

Harem Tracker: 0

DP Exchange: Available

??? (Locked – Requires System Level 3)