The next two days are the longest of my life. I am a ghost in the barracks, carrying out my chores with mechanical efficiency. The confinement has been quietly lifted, the incident with Caelan apparently closed—or rather, shelved. But the tension remains. Caelan ignores me openly, which is worse than his insults. It's the calm before the storm. He is planning something, and I must be ready.
Every night, I return to the sewers. I no longer venture into the depths. I stay in the upper levels, hunting Shadow Rats. It's not just for the experience anymore. It's for training. I practice my movements, perfect my Precise Strike, learn the rhythm of the hunt and of silence. Every monster killed is a lesson.
Name: Reinhardt Valdios
Level: 3
Experience: 152/250
My progress is slow but steady. Hunger is a constant companion, but I manage it. I feed it just enough to keep it under control, a beast on a leash rather than an unleashed monster.
Finally, the second night arrives.
I find my way back to the Black Market. The atmosphere is the same: a mix of danger and opportunity. I head straight for Elara's stall.
She is there, sitting in the same immutable posture, as if she hasn't moved since my last visit. When she sees me approach, she gives a slight nod.
"Punctual," she says. "I appreciate that."
Without further ceremony, she pulls a bundle wrapped in dark canvas from under her table. She places it on the counter. "Your equipment. Treated basilisk leather, as silent as a shadow. Felt-soled boots. All enchanted with a minor spell of Discretion. It won't make you invisible, but it will muffle the sound of your steps and movements."
I open the bundle. The armor is magnificent. The black leather is supple yet tough, without the slightest sheen. It is light, designed for movement. The boots are just as perfect. This is professional gear.
"This is... more than I asked for," I murmur, impressed.
"The ore was worth it," she replies. "I am a businesswoman, not a thief. I honor my transactions." She pushes a small wooden box towards me. "Your information."
I open the box. It contains several rolled-up scrolls, tied with a silk ribbon.
"Everything my contacts could find on Soul Ore," Elara explains. "Its origin, its properties, the legends surrounding it. And, more importantly for you, a list of the creatures known to guard it. Your Undead Miner is on there, along with others, far worse. Study it carefully. Knowledge is the best armor."
I close the box carefully. It is a treasure of inestimable value.
"And finally..." She produces a single scroll, sealed with a purple wax seal. The air around it seems to hum with a contained energy. "Your skill."
Item: Skill Scroll - [Camouflage]
Rarity: Rare
Description: By breaking the seal and reading this scroll, the user will learn the passive skill [Camouflage]. Single use.
"How... how does it work?" I ask, intimidated by the object.
"Break the seal. The knowledge it contains will pour into your mind. It is an... intense process. Do it somewhere quiet." She looks at me, her violet eyes gleaming. "You have everything you asked for, little rat. Our transaction is complete."
"Thank you, Elara."
"Don't thank me. Just survive. It's better for business."
I gather my new possessions and leave the market, my heart pounding with excitement and nervousness. I don't return to the barracks. I go straight to my training cavern in the sewers. It's the only place I feel safe.
There, in the silent darkness, I don my new armor. It fits like a second skin. I move, I jump, I roll on the ground. The silence is absolute. It's as if I'm wearing nothing. The enchantment is powerful.
Next, I sit down and unroll the information scrolls. I spend hours reading, absorbing every word in the spectral light of my Night Vision.
I learn that Soul Ore is a crystallized form of raw mana, pure spiritual energy. That's why non-living creatures, like the undead or golems, are so drawn to it. It is their food, their source of energy. The Miner I encountered wasn't just collecting a treasure. It was feeding.
I also learn that the ore has unique properties. It can store energy, including experience. Weapons forged with it can "level up," growing stronger as they absorb the essence of defeated foes.
This information hits me like a physical blow. Weapons that level up. This is the missing link. This is the way to turn the power I absorb into something permanent.
Finally, I pick up the skill scroll. My hands are trembling. This is it.
I break the wax seal.
A blinding violet light erupts from the scroll. Complex symbols, ancient runes I've never seen, fly from the paper and begin to circle around me. I feel an invisible force push into my skull, a mental invasion. This isn't reading; it's a download. Information, instincts, reflexes I've never had are being imprinted directly onto my mind. The pain is searing, as if my brain is being branded with a hot iron.
I grit my teeth, enduring the flood of information. I learn to slow my breathing, to control my heartbeat, to use the shadows not as a hiding place, but as an extension of myself.
When the process is over, the scroll crumbles to dust. I am soaked in sweat, panting, but my mind is strangely calm.
A new notification appears, soft and welcome after the pain.
You have learned a new passive skill.
[Camouflage (Lvl. 1)]:
Effect: When motionless in an area of shadow or dim light, you become nearly undetectable to creatures whose level is not significantly higher than your own. Effectiveness decreases if you move.
I stand up and walk to the darkest corner of the cavern. I press myself against the rock wall and hold still, focusing on the skill, on the new instincts it has given me.
I feel something change. It's not invisibility. It's more subtle. It's as if the shadows are accepting me, enveloping me. I look at my own arm, and it seems less distinct, its outlines blending into the surrounding darkness.
This is an incredible power.
I spend the rest of the night testing my new abilities. The combination of the enchanted armor and the Camouflage skill is formidable. I have become a true shadow.
The return to the barracks is completely silent. I move with a new confidence. I am no longer the frightened prey in hiding. I am the predator, biding its time.
I'm in the middle of stowing my new armor, hidden under my pallet, when I hear footsteps approaching. I freeze. It's still night; everyone should be asleep.
The silhouette of Silas, the indebted guard, is framed in the doorway.
"Valdios," he whispers. He seems nervous. "I need to talk to you."
I rise silently. "What is it?"
"I heard something," he says in a low voice, casting worried glances behind him. "Rumors. Burix. He's not going to let what happened go. He's planning something against you. Something much worse than a false accusation of theft."
My blood runs cold. "What?"
"I don't know the details. But it involves the isolated training ground, behind the old armories. And it's supposed to happen tomorrow night. He wants to make you disappear, kid. For good."
Silas looks at me, a flicker of fear in his eyes. "Do what you want with this information. Consider my debt paid. Now, I want nothing more to do with you."
He turns on his heel and disappears as quickly as he appeared.
I am left alone in the darkness, Silas's words echoing in my head. Disappear for good.
The storm I have been waiting for is about to break. Caelan has decided to solve the problem himself, far from the eyes of Roxis and the officers.
A wave of icy fear runs through me. But it is quickly replaced by something else. A cold, calculating rage.
He wants to set a trap for me. He thinks I'm still the same weak, defenseless vermin. He knows nothing of my nights in the sewers. He doesn't know about my new strength, my new skills, my new equipment.
He is setting a cage for a rat. But it will be a wolf that walks into it.