The farmer, Garen, dropped us off at the highway intersection just as the first stars began to twinkle in the darkening sky. He wouldn't take a single copper for the ride, despite my protests.
"You brought my boy home from the cellar," he said, his voice thick. "Keep your coin, lad. You'll need it for better boots."
We watched him turn the cart around and head back toward the safety of Oakhaven. Now, it was just us, the open road, and a day's trek back to the city walls. We decided to camp near a small stream, tucked away from the main path.
I woke up the next morning expecting to be paralyzed by stiffness. Instead, I felt... different.
As I stretched, the sharp pain in my back had vanished, replaced by a strange, buoyant energy. My movements felt more fluid, as if the "Level Up" had finally finished calibrating my physical form. I felt lighter on my feet, my center of gravity more precise.
But it wasn't just physical.
I closed my eyes and focused on the core of my being—the place where the 100-0 ratio held its iron grip. Now, it felt like the spring had been slightly elongated. There was a fraction more room to breathe. My mana capacity hadn't doubled—it hadn't even grown by ten percent—but there was a subtle expansion. It was like a room that had been cluttered with furniture had suddenly been cleared of one small chair. It was minor, but to me, it was a revelation.
'I can hold more,' I thought, a surge of excitement blooming in my chest. 'Not enough to cast a supreme-level magic, maybe, but enough to hold the 100-0 ratio steady for longer.'
"You're up early," Tess said, emerging from her tent with a yawn. She paused, squinting at me. "You... you're moving better. Did you drink a potion?"
"Just a good night's sleep," I lied, though I felt the weight of the lie. "I think my body is finally catching up to the fight."
We set off toward Dustfort, the road winding through a stretch of dense woodland known as the Whispering Thicket. It was a notorious spot for low-level monsters, usually avoided by solo travelers.
We hadn't been walking for two hours when the first threat emerged.
Three goblins—standard green-skins, scrawny and desperate—leaped from the brush. They weren't like the King's guard; they were disorganized and ragged. One brandished a rusted kitchen knife, while the others held sharpened sticks.
"I've got the left!" Tess cried, her staff already glowing.
I didn't even draw my sword. I felt that new lightness in my legs and decided to test it.
I moved.
To the goblins, I must have been a blur. I stepped inside the first one's reach before he could even level his stick. I didn't strike to kill; I simply delivered a sharp palm strike to his chest. The impact sent him flying backward into a tree with a sickening thwack.
The second one lunged with the knife. I twisted, my body feeling like a well-oiled machine. I caught his wrist, applied a quick pressure point that made him drop the blade, and swept his legs. He hit the dirt hard.
"Stay down," I growled.
Tess, meanwhile, had summoned a localized burst of wind that knocked the third goblin flat on his back. They didn't stick around to try their luck again; they scrambled into the brush, yelping in terror.
"Wow," Tess said, looking at me with wide eyes. "Rio, you were... fast. Really fast."
"Adrenaline," I said, though my heart was pounding with the thrill of it. I felt good.
But the thicket wasn't done. Further down the road, we encountered something more substantial: an Orc. It was a stray, likely a scout from a tribe further north. It stood seven feet tall, its grey skin scarred and its tusks yellowed with age. It held a massive, notched axe and let out a roar that shook the leaves above us.
"This one's mine," I said, my hand finally going to the charcoal hilt.
The Orc charged, the ground thumping under its weight. I drew the blade, and for the first time, I felt the sword resonate with that minor increase in my mana capacity. The obsidian-iron didn't just feel like metal; it felt like a hungry vacuum, drawing in the tiny excess of energy I was now producing.
The Orc swung the axe in a wide, horizontal arc. I didn't duck. I stepped forward, meeting the blow with a parry.
Normally, the weight of an Orc's swing would have sent a vibration up my arm that would numb my shoulder. But with my Level 2 strength and the new lightness in my frame, I absorbed the shock effortlessly. I slid my blade down the length of his axe handle, the charcoal metal screeching against the iron, and delivered a clean, horizontal slash across the Orc's chest.
It wasn't a killing blow—I didn't want to show too much power—but it was deep enough to make the Orc stumble back, its eyes widening in shock. It realized, too late, that it wasn't fighting a human child. It was fighting a predator.
It roared again, but this time, there was fear in its voice. It turned and lumbered back into the woods, dragging its axe.
"You're different today," Tess said as I sheathed the blade. She was looking at me with a mix of curiosity and something that felt like suspicion. "It's like Oakhaven didn't just break you... it forged you."
"Maybe it did," I replied, looking down at my hands.
The rest of the journey was quiet. The minor increase in my mana and the lightness in my steps gave me a sense of confidence I hadn't felt before. I was growing. Slowly, painfully, but I was growing.
By the time the high stone walls of Dustfort appeared on the horizon, glowing orange in the setting sun, I felt a strange sense of homecoming. We were coming back as E-Rankers. We were coming back with a story.
But as I looked at the city gates, I couldn't help but wonder if Aror would see the change in me as clearly as Tess had.