The Rare Ring and the Hidden Grimoire
Yoahim slowly slipped the ring off Veros's finger. He'd thought it was just a plain ring at first, but it turned out to be a named item.
◈ A ring embedded with a sparkling waterlight gem. Possesses mysterious power.
◈ +10 Intellect stat when equipped.
◈ Active skill: Magic Missile usable. If already learned, skill level +1.
"A rare item!"
Yoahim clenched his fist and let out a cheer. A hard-to-get rare item—and one with an active skill, no less. Wearing this ring would let him use Magic Missile even without learning it first. There were a few items like this in the game that boosted skill levels. They mostly applied to weak skills like Magic Missile, but they were incredibly useful for granting access to unlearned skills.
"So that's how a low-level guy like him was double-casting. It was the ring's active skill."
He'd thought it was weird for a Lv.36 black mage to be slinging Magic Missile with double-casting. Yoahim slid the ring Veros had worn onto his own finger. Perfect timing, too—it boosted Intellect, so his mana reserves swelled accordingly.
He pointed his ringed hand at a glass vial on the desk.
"Magic Missile."
He murmured the incantation softly, and a translucent beam shot from the ring, shattering the vial. As the glass shards clattered to the floor with a sharp crash, Yoahim nodded in satisfaction.
"Solid performance."
Low mana cost, decent damage—perfect as a control skill. In high spirits from scoring a rare item, Yoahim whistled a tune as he rummaged through Veros's body again. A few more items turned up, but they were all junk. As a black mage, Veros didn't have much that synergized with Yoahim's Dark Knight class. The robe was high-grade, sure, but no point swapping out his armor for it.
"Dump the junk at a shop."
Now Yoahim prowled the workshop. The cave-forged space brimmed with experimental tools. In one corner, some unidentifiable meat was rotting away. Wrinkling his nose at the stench, he searched every nook and cranny.
The drawers yielded mostly experiment logs. Made a new potion. Subjugated some goblins. Traded with orcs. The idiots at the mage tower can't recognize my worth. I'll show them the fruits of my research. And so on. Nothing useful there.
"Come on, he's a boss mob. He's gotta drop something good."
While poking around, Yoahim spotted a painting hung on the cave wall. A still life that clashed with the surroundings—Veros didn't strike him as the refined art-appreciating type. Suspicious as hell. Yoahim approached slowly, grabbed the frame, and yanked.
Click.
"Knew it."
A safe hid behind the painting. Tucked away like that, it had to contain something important. Yoahim scanned for a key, but suddenly the ring on his finger glowed.
"What the—?"
He worried it might trigger some rogue spell, but nothing happened. A beam of light simply lanced from the ring like a laser, striking the wall. Realizing something, Yoahim aimed it at the safe. The light slid straight into the keyhole.
And then—
Grind!
With a rusty groan, as if unopened for ages, the safe door swung wide. Yoahim peered inside.
"What is this?"
Disappointingly, no piles of gold or jewels. Not even a single coin. Instead, just a weathered book.
"A book? No way it's a skillbook?"
Stashed in a safe like this, it had to be valuable. Among the books Yoahim knew, skillbooks were the rarest. He pulled it out eagerly.
◈ An unidentified book. Faint mana emanates from it.
◈ The book Veros stole when fleeing the mage tower.
No title legible—just squiggly script, probably mage runes. Yoahim flipped through it rapidly, pages rustling, but it was all gibberish. He had no idea what it was, but if Veros stole it from the mage tower, it wasn't trash.
Two options: Find an expert for appraisal, or take it straight to the tower. If it was insanely valuable, the first choice paid off. If not, he'd lose out. After a moment's thought, Yoahim opted for the tower. A Lv.36 like Veros wouldn't steal something game-breaking. Better to play it safe and claim the mage tower's reward.
"One more reason to hit the mage tower."
He stowed the book in his inventory for safekeeping. Time to cash it in.
"Oh, right—stats."
He'd gained five levels, hitting Lv.27. As usual, he dumped points into Strength, Vitality, and Intellect. Now he could finally call himself strong. A long way from max level, but progress.
After allocating stats, Yoahim glanced around. It was late, and he'd parted with the caravan, so he'd crash here. The workshop doubled as Veros's living space, complete with a bed in the corner. A hard wooden slab, but beats the cold floor.
"Bonfire time."
He smashed up Veros's desk for firewood, using the experiment logs as kindling. Flames crackled to life, warming the space quickly. Before bed, Yoahim pulled potions from his inventory. He chugged the red liquid and slathered some on his wounds. Scratches from the Veros fight healed, vitality restoring.
But though his body mended, exhaustion lingered. He tossed the empty vials aside and collapsed onto the bed. Sleeping in a dead man's lair felt creepy, but fatigue overrode it.
"Nngh..."
Eyes shut, darkness swallowed him. Thick, heavy void. He opened them again—to more darkness. No sense of self, no reality. Dream or waking? Indistinguishable. His body floated weightlessly. He knew he had to escape, but no strength came.
Just so tired, so sleepy... Consciousness sank deeper, then flipped. Sky and earth inverted, up and down lost. Still in darkness, now without direction.
In this oppressive black, one thing pierced through: the darkest thing in existence, lord of all death, sovereign of the morning star.
That name: Evil God Kakali.
Yoahim couldn't see Kakali—just sensed its presence somewhere in the void. Rallying his foggy mind, he spoke. No sound emerged.
Curious, suddenly. Kakali had never appeared in his dreams before. Why now? Because he'd uttered the Evil God's name for the first time today? Offered sacrifice and prayer? Ignored before because he hadn't called properly?
What a petty god.
Yoahim smirked inwardly.
"My servant, my child, my knight."
You drag me here? The one who dumped me in this shitty world? Why me? Plenty of Dark Knight players out there.
"Do not stop. Run. Move."
Fuck, what're you saying? Answer me. Why'd you bring me? You're a god, right? Gods are supposed to be almighty. So why no answers?
"You have a duty. The duty to grow strong."
No shit. Then give me some damn power. You yap but offer no help. Isn't that what gods do—shower power? Didn't you see that demon bastard and black mage mocking me?
"Come."
Won't answer to the end, huh? Fine, do your thing. I'll do mine.
"To where I am."
Pulled in. Space warped, contracted. Immense force warped the void. He felt it, sightless. Yoahim shivered. Haellagos had said: You can't hide or flee.
From a god? Could he never escape Evil God Kakali?
As thoughts spiraled, the god laughed. Eerie, chilling laughter.
"...Hah."
Eyes snapped open. Yoahim bolted upright, drenched in cold sweat. He panted raggedly, swallowing hard. A nightmare, chilling to the bone.
Steadying his breath, he slid off the bed and scanned the workshop. Parched, but no water. Dawn, maybe? Hard to tell.
"No time to slack—gotta hustle."
Caravan gone; solo trek to the mage tower ahead. No reason to dawdle—time to roll out. Heading for the cave mouth, he glanced back. Veros was dead, but leaving the workshop risked some bastard exploiting it. Those logs were a blueprint for evil.
Not burning with justice, just finishing what he started. Yoahim conjured mana flames and scattered them. Cave would smother them soon, torching only the gear. Watching the blaze catch, he turned and strode out.
"Dawn it is."
A touch early, but the crisp morning air invigorated him. He breathed deep, exhaled, oriented himself. Mage tower east of Serina Village. Slight detour for Veros, but simple paths—easy to correct.
Gazing at the dim sky, he awaited sunrise. Golden rays crested as he resumed walking. Still far to the tower, but not endless. Levels boosted in the cave, rare items pocketed—his steps were light.
Plus that book—prime tower bait for rewards.
"What to ask for as payback."
Maybe another rare with a skill, like the ring. Or enchant his weapon. Magic scrolls? Whatever—they'd pay up. Yoahim marched toward the mage tower, lost in pleasant fantasies.