The fog clung to the cliffs like a wet shroud, curling around jagged rocks and creaking rope bridges. Every step I took on the slick planks sent vibrations up my legs, each tremor carrying the faint pulse of Aura hidden in the wood. Port Scab sprawled below me, a chaotic tangle of tar-stained hulls, rickety shacks, and rope bridges swaying over the tide. The smell of brine mixed with smoke and rot, but beneath it all was a faint, acrid tang—the residue of old magic, lingering like a ghost.
Even early Tier-2 senses could feel the town breathing. The currents of Aura ran like veins through the docks, rising and falling with the tides, and I could sense where the energy was stagnant, where it pulsed unnaturally. Every disturbance, every rogue fluctuation told me a story. Some were mundane—a fisher's nervous aura, a merchant's greed—but some were dangerous, like the faint hum I felt near the warehouse to the north.
Movement caught my eye. Tiny shadows scuttled unnaturally over broken planks—Gloom Rats. They weren't mindless; residual magic gave them coordination, their black fur pulsing slightly with Aura. A pack of them surged toward a small group of fishermen, who froze in fear. My grip tightened on the sword. This was early Tier-2 combat: precise, careful, and unforgiving. Brute strength would get me nowhere.
I let a small pulse of Aura flow into the blade. Steel met darkness with a faint hiss. One rat was severed mid-leap. Another lunged for my shoulder; I rolled, letting the blade arc in a controlled wave, guiding the rest toward the shadows. Every strike, every motion had to account for timing, positioning, and the subtle energy of the creatures. Even a small miscalculation could end me.
The swarm scattered, leaving the air tense with the smell of disturbed saltwater and ozone. I didn't relax. From deeper in the warehouse came a low, vibrating growl. My sword hummed faintly as I tensed.
A Brackenspine Wolf emerged, its thorned fur glinting faintly in the sunlight filtering through broken boards. Its eyes were intelligent, calculating, watching for weaknesses. This was no mindless beast; it moved like water over jagged stone, every step measured. My early Tier-2 strength meant I could not overpower it—I had to outthink it.
It lunged. I rolled, feeling the vibrations of my sword blade as a pulse of Aura surged through it. I slashed at its side, staggering it. The wolf circled, snapping, probing, testing my limits. Every movement demanded precise timing and careful prediction. I let a controlled wave of energy ripple through the ground, subtly altering the creature's footing and forcing it to stagger. Strategy, awareness, and the smallest burst of Aura—these were my weapons.
Finally, it retreated, slipping into the shadows, leaving only shallow claw marks on warped planks. My arms ached, my heart raced, but I was alive. Early Tier-2 was limited, vulnerable, but it taught survival—observation, adaptation, precision.
I climbed the cliffside and surveyed the inlet. Broken rope bridges swayed in the wind, shacks leaned at impossible angles, and driftwood floated in the tide, hiding unknown threats beneath. The distant mountains rose jagged and sharp, crystalline forests glinting faintly, pulsing with latent Aura energy. I could almost feel it—the subtle rhythm of the land, the quiet song of Aerthos. This world was alive, dangerous, and full of rules I had barely begun to understand.
Port Scab itself was a proving ground. Currents shifted unnaturally in response to lingering magic. Every shadow could conceal a predator. Every alley held danger. My blade hummed faintly in response to the energies, and I realized—Tier-2 was not about overwhelming power. It was about understanding the world, reading the currents of Aura, and surviving.
I wiped sweat from my brow. Today I had learned something about monsters, about the tides, about the subtle flow of Aura in the town. Every encounter taught me more about my limits—and my potential. Early Tier-2, yes, but every strike, every pulse of energy, brought me closer to the mastery I needed.
Aerthos was vast, dangerous, alive, and I had only just begun to understand it.