Kaelen woke with a gasp, the cold stone floor having leeched every bit of warmth from his body. For a disorienting second, he was back in his apartment, late for a lecture. Then the biting wind howled through a gap in the ruins, and the grim reality of his situation slammed back into him.
He pushed himself up, his muscles screaming in protest. A night on the ground had done his pathetic 8 Endurance no favors. A quick glance at his Status Panel showed his HP and SP were full, but he felt a bone-deep weariness that no stat bar could quantify.
The twin moons hung low on the horizon, painting the sky in a pre-dawn wash of grey and violet. It was time.
First, he attended to the basics. He found the canteen and the petrified bread from the previous night. Placing his hand on them, he focused, and once again, the System rewarded him with a few precious mouthfuls of water and another bland, but life-saving, Iron Ration Bar. The 24-hour cooldown on these specific echoes was now reset. It wasn't much, but it was enough to get him moving.
He didn't rush. The historian in him, the part of him that spent years meticulously planning research projects, took over. Rushing into a fight with his abysmal stats was suicide. He needed information.
He crept to the edge of his shimmering protection barrier, using a collapsed wall as cover. The world outside was still shrouded in shadow, but he could see them now. The red dots on his System map had resolved into hazy, humanoid figures that drifted aimlessly across the ashen plains.
These were the Lingering Spirits.
They looked like heat haze given form, their shapes constantly shifting and swirling. They had no discernible features, just a vague outline of a head, torso, and limbs. They moved with a slow, ponderous grace that was deeply unsettling, occasionally letting out a high-pitched, mournful screech that grated on the nerves.
He watched one for a solid hour, forcing himself to ignore the cold and his own chattering teeth. He studied its patrol path, a lazy, looping pattern around a cluster of larger ruins. It seemed mindless, drawn to the areas of greatest desolation. He checked its details through the System, a useful feature he'd just discovered.
[Lingering Spirit]
Level: 5
Type: Lesser Undead
HP: 200/200
Skills: [Spectral Touch] - Inflicts minor ethereal damage and slows the target.
Description: A weak echo of a soul unable to pass on. Drawn to places of great suffering. It is slow and possesses minimal intelligence.
Level 5. Five times his own level. With 200 health points, it could likely shrug off any attack he, with his 7 Strength, could possibly muster. A direct confrontation was out of the question.
He wasn't a fighter. So he wouldn't fight. He would think.
His eyes scanned the terrain just outside his barrier. It was a deathtrap, yes, but it was also a landscape of opportunity. He spotted what he was looking for about thirty feet from his position: a crumbling stone archway, part of a once-grand entrance to a ruined building. The keystone at its apex was visibly cracked, and several stones looked loose. It was a miracle it was still standing.
It was an accident waiting to happen. And Kaelen was going to make it happen.
The plan that formed in his mind was simple, elegant, and relied entirely on his wits, not his brawn. He spent the next hour gathering his tools: small, sharp-edged rocks that fit comfortably in his hand.
He stepped out of his protection barrier for the first time. The air felt different, charged with a low-level static that made the hairs on his arms stand up. The oppressive aura of the Ashen Fields was real.
He moved silently, his heart hammering in his chest. He stayed low, ducking behind chunks of rubble, his eyes locked on the drifting Spirit. It hadn't noticed him. Its attention, if it had any, was fixed on the ruins ahead.
He reached a position about fifty feet from the unstable archway and hunkered down behind a broken pillar. This was his firing spot.
He took his first rock. His target wasn't the monster. It was the ground, ten feet to the Spirit's left. He threw it underhand. The rock clattered against the stone-strewn dirt.
The Spirit stopped. Its hazy form seemed to 'turn' towards the noise, a slow, curious tilt. It drifted towards the sound, investigating with mindless purpose.
Kaelen held his breath. It works.
He waited for it to settle, then threw another rock, this time a little closer to the archway. The Spirit followed. He was herding it, a spectral shepherd guiding his flock to the slaughter.
Rock by rock, he lured the creature on a zigzagging path, never letting it get too close to him, always guiding it towards the crumbling structure. The tension was immense. A single mistake, a single throw that was too close or too far, and the creature might lose interest or, worse, turn its attention to him. His SP bar was slowly ticking down from the stress and physical exertion.
Finally, the Spirit was in position. It drifted right under the center of the archway, pausing as if confused by the lack of a source for the sounds.
This was his moment.
Kaelen picked up his last, largest rock. His target was the cracked keystone at the apex of the arch. It was a difficult shot. His 7 Strength meant he couldn't throw it hard, he had to be precise. He took a deep, steadying breath, aimed, and threw with all his might.
The rock sailed through the air in a clumsy arc, and for a horrible second, he thought it would miss. But it struck home, hitting the cracked keystone with a sharp crack.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a low groan, a spiderweb of new cracks spread from the point of impact. The archway shuddered. Dust and pebbles rained down.
With a final, deafening roar of grinding stone, the entire structure collapsed inwards, burying the Lingering Spirit under several tons of ancient rock.
A cloud of grey dust billowed out. When it settled, the Spirit was gone.
And then, the glorious sound of the System.
[You have dealt 100% of the damage to [Lingering Spirit]!]
[You have slain [Lingering Spirit] x1!]
[Due to the significant level difference, you have gained 150 EXP!]
[LEVEL UP!]
[You are now Level 2! You have gained 5 unassigned attribute points!]
[Loot has been automatically added to your inventory!]
[You have obtained: [Lingering Spirit] x1]
Kaelen sagged against the pillar, his body trembling with post-adrenaline jitters. He had done it. His hands were scraped, his shoulder ached from the throw, but he had won. He hadn't just survived; he had fought back. And he had leveled up.
He didn't hesitate. He immediately opened his status panel and allocated his 5 new points. He put 2 into Endurance, bringing it to the baseline of 10. He put the other 3 into his highest stats, Intelligence and Spirit, bringing them to 17 and 16 respectively. He was still weak, but he would be able to think harder and last longer.
He checked his inventory. There it was. A swirling ball of milky, ethereal energy, pulsing with a faint, cold light.
[Lingering Spirit] (Material)
Description: The raw essence of a soul that has lost its way. A key component in many spectral rituals and summonings.
He had everything he needed.