Just before moving to a decision about Graleth's fate, Snow's gaze lingered on Robert, her frosty blue eyes catching his attention. The cavern's dim light reflected off the faint shimmer of her Water Sapphire, a reminder of her recent transformation.
"Uhm… Can I help you?" Robert inquired, tilting his head with a curious smile.
"…You just said 'ash,' instead of the other word," she replied, her voice tinged with suppressed amusement.
Hamish, leaning against a cavern wall, paused mid-whetstone stroke on his blade, his quartz core pulsing faintly. He thought back, then chuckled deeply. "Oi, she's right! You… you just said 'beat his ash'!"
Robert furrowed his brows, clearly aware of his intended meaning but struggling to recall his exact words. "I don't think so. I know how to say 'ash' when I mean 'Ash,'" he protested, his tone defensive yet uncertain.
Snow erupted into a fit of giggles, her laughter echoing off the cavern walls, quickly joined by Hamish's booming guffaws. The sound bounced around the Sanctum, where the Brute shard's recent integration had left a faint hum of mana in the air.
Struggling to speak between giggles, Snow bubbled, "What wh why are you tee hee!" and utterly failed to finish, doubling over. Just as their amusement began to subside, Robert's frustrated scowl nearly sent them into hysterics again, leaving them gasping for breath.
Determined, Robert tried to curse. "Fudge! What the fudge?! HEY! Why can't I say fudge?! Ash! Ash hole! Oh gosh darn it, what the heck is happening?!" His face reddened with frustration as he attempted another string of expletives, only to have them hilariously censored mid-sentence. "Son of a biscuit-eating bulldog! Flippin' heckin' shoot! What in the fudgin' name of gosh-darn pickles is going on?!"
Snow clutched her sides, tears streaming down her face as she wheezed, "I I can't breathe!" Her laughter mingled with the cavern's ambient magic. Hamish slapped his knee, gasping between hearty guffaws. "Oh, laddie!" he choked out, "you've got yerself a bloody CURSE O' DECENCY!"
Robert threw his hands up in exasperation. "A BLESSING OF WHAT?! Moira! Is this your doing?!" His voice rang out, half pleading, half accusatory, the sound carrying a faint echo in the cavern.
A gentle, musical voice filled the space, laced with a faintly prissy amusement. "Ah, my vessel," Moira's tone teased, "cursing is not my style of magic. Curses are the domain of the faithful, those who worship darker entities and follow their vile teachings. Such curses are taught by these so-called patrons to wreak cruel havoc and frankly, I'm not a fan."
She sniffed delicately, as if the notion offended her refined sensibilities. "So no, Robert, I'm not going to let you utter curses not even the innocent kind. Words hold power, and your magic, tied to Albion's essence, is too precious to be tarnished with such vulgarities. Consider this a gentle nudge toward eloquence."
Robert groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Great. So I can't curse because of you and your high standards Fantastic. How am I supposed to express myself?!"
Hamish wiped a tear from his eye, grinning ear to ear. "Don't worry, lad! We'll translate fer ya! Anytime ya mean to say somethin' spicy, just give me the nod I'll add the flavor!"
Snow, still hiccuping with laughter, managed to gasp, "Robert, it's it's perfect. You're becoming too powerful to be a potty mouth!"
Robert glared at them both, his jaw tight as he muttered under his breath, "I'm surrounded by children."
Hamish retorted laughingly, "Kids are the ones that pretend to cuss like you do now!"
But as he watched Snow's radiant smile and heard Hamish's deep, rolling chuckle, Robert's lips twitched upward despite himself. "Fine," he said, crossing his arms. "But don't expect me to 'fudgin' like it."
They lost it again, their laughter a brief respite in the cavern's tension.
Eventually, once composed, the trio stood encircling Graleth, his massive form still kneeling within the remnants of the battlefield. The champion's crystalline veins glowed faintly, a shadow of their once-brilliant intensity after the recent clash. His sharp, watchful eyes darted between Robert, Hamish, and Snow, assessing their next move. Despite his injuries, Graleth's stoic demeanor betrayed no amusement at their earlier mirth.
Hamish folded his arms sternly, his broadsword resting at his side. "I don't trust him, Robert. What's to stop this big bastard from turnin' on us the moment we turn our backs?"
Snow, her frosted robes shimmering gently as her mana recovered, crossed her arms and frowned. "Hamish is right. He's too dangerous to leave unchecked. And I still don't think he's forgiven us for breaking him down like that." Her voice carried the weight of her recent combat experience in the Sanctum.
Robert, standing between his companions, furrowed his brow as he considered their words. He wanted to believe Graleth could be trusted his willingness to yield after the Brute shard integration spoke volumes but trust couldn't be given lightly. "Trust is slowly earned, Champion," he said, his tone firm yet open.
As if sensing his hesitation, the air around them shimmered faintly, and a familiar voice whispered into their minds. "Robert you hesitate, as you should. Trust must be earned, and loyalty must be bound. Allow me to guide you in forging a pact that will secure your new ally." The whisper carried a hint of Moira's warmth.
"Moira…" Robert said softly, his voice steady but curious. "What do you suggest?"
From the depths of Robert's connection to Albion's magic, Moira's voice emerged, calm and resonant. "There exists a power within the foundation of magic itself a means to bind the will of others through words of power. You, my vessel, have the ability to weave such contracts. Speak them into existence, and magic will enforce the terms. This is the way to ensure loyalty where trust is still fragile."
Robert creased his brow, "That sounds like contractual slavery. This feels wrong." His gaze flicked to Graleth, whose stoic expression betrayed neither fear nor protest, a testament to the brute's resilience.
"Speak your terms," Moira explained. "Detail what is required of the other party, and what you promise in return. The magic will enforce the contract as if it were law. None may break it without consequence. It need not be a slaver's deed though it could be. However, the other party is not required to agree to it."
Robert's eyes narrowed as he stepped closer to Graleth, who raised his massive head to meet his gaze. After a moment's thought, he said, "Graleth, I propose a contract. You will serve as the Guardian of the Gates for our settlement. You will train and lead your kin your Stoneskin Brutes as a defensive force to protect our growing village. You will obey only the commands of myself, Hamish, Snow, or those we designate as commanders."
Graleth's glowing eyes flickered with curiosity. "And what will you provide, humanling?"
"In return," Robert continued, his tone unwavering, "I will ensure your needs are met. Food, lodging, tools, and all material requirements necessary to sustain your duties will be provided as long as this contract is binding. You will be treated with respect and dignity. The contract will remain in effect unless I choose to dissolve it, or the system I command detects devoted and true fealty. At either time, it will dissolve, and you will have free will once more."
The cavern grew quiet as the terms settled between them. Hamish shifted his weight uncomfortably, still gripping his weapon, while Snow's frost aura softened as she listened to Robert's words. Finally, Graleth spoke, his deep voice resonating with a mix of curiosity and acceptance. "These terms they are fair. I will serve, as long as the magic binds us."
Robert nodded, raising his hands. With a wave of intent, he summoned his magic, his words laced with power. "By the foundation of magic, I bind this oath. Let these terms stand unbroken. Let this bond hold true."
A golden light encircled Graleth, Robert, Hamish, and Snow, swirling upward in radiant arcs. The words of the contract burned faintly in the air, etched into existence by Robert's will. When the light faded, Graleth bowed his head, acknowledging the bond.
"I am bound," the brute said simply. "I serve you now."
Hamish, testing the new alliance, leaned casually on Graleth's shoulder, propping an arm as if the brute were furniture. Graleth slowly turned his stony head toward him, wordlessly staring. Hamish offered a warm smile, and to his surprise, Graleth's jagged, rock-toothed grin emerged terrifying yet oddly sincere. Hamish straightened quickly, clearing his throat, a flicker of unease crossing his face.
Snow exhaled softly, releasing her Crystal Ball spell. The icy prison encasing Graleth shattered, the shards dissolving into harmless mist. Still kneeling, Graleth groaned as he attempted to rise, but his severed arm and shattered knee made it impossible.
Robert frowned, his gaze softening as he approached. "Stay still. Let me help." He reached out, summoning Earth and Water magic with a healing intent. Combining the two elements, he conjured a thick, muddy substance rich with restorative energy. Guided by his will, the mud encased Graleth's severed arm, pulling the dismembered limb into place.
The magic flowed through the mud, but something resisted. The limb trembled, its veins flickering as the elements struggled to merge. Graleth gritted his teeth, a low growl escaping him. Robert furrowed his brow, adjusting the flow, willing the elements to synchronize. The mud pulsed, a final surge locking the arm into place. Slowly, the veins reignited, the limb stabilizing. Graleth flexed his restored hand, marveling at the seamless repair.
"Impressive," Graleth rumbled, his voice tinged with newfound respect.
Robert didn't stop there. He cast the spell again, focusing on Graleth's shattered knee. The mud encased the joint, solidifying and mending the damage. Moments later, the champion stood tall, testing his movements with a satisfied grunt.
Hamish raised an eyebrow. "You're full o' surprises, mud man."
Snow smiled approvingly, her faith in Robert growing stronger with each passing moment. "He really is."
Robert stepped back, taking in their expressions. "Graleth, you're dismissed for now. Prepare your kin for their new tasks. I'll coordinate with DAVE to adjust the Sanctum's layout soon."
Graleth bowed deeply, his massive form casting a long shadow over the trio. "As you command, Guardian of Magic." With that, he turned and lumbered toward the deeper chambers, his steps heavy but purposeful.
As the trio paused to catch their breath, Robert raised a hand and gestured toward the earthen floor. The ground shifted and rippled, forming three chairs sculpted from smooth stone. Each was tailored to its occupant: Hamish's was broad and sturdy, with a high back for his muscular frame; Snow's was delicate yet supportive, its edges etched with faint frost-like patterns; Robert's was simple and functional, blending form and purpose.
"Take a moment," Robert said. "We've earned a rest."
Hamish dropped heavily into his seat, his broadsword resting across his lap. "Aye, not gonna argue with that," he muttered, leaning back. Snow settled more gracefully, smoothing her robes and letting out a soft sigh of relief. Robert seated himself last, his thoughts drifting to the settlement's needs beyond the cavern.
The ambient magic in the cavern seemed to harmonize with their quiet reflection. Each felt the pulse of their crystals as M-Power flooded in from their hard-earned victory. The sensation was hungry, like a rush of adrenaline with an eagerness to be used.
Hamish's mind turned to his combat abilities, particularly his one-handed swordplay. He focused his newfound M-Power into the skill, raising it to level 10. Moira's familiar voice echoed in his mind. "Hamish, you have reached a mastery threshold. Choose how to refine your skill. The path you take will shape your combat style."
Three options materialized before him, each accompanied by an image of a swordsman demonstrating the technique:
Fiore's Path: Inspired by historical longsword techniques, this style emphasizes fluid transitions and counters. It grants Hamish the ability to chain strikes into seamless combinations and perform ripostes against incoming attacks, increasing his overall combat adaptability.
Meyer's Edge: Focused on powerful, precise strikes, this style increases the damage dealt by each swing. It includes specialized techniques for exploiting weaknesses in an opponent's stance, making every attack more devastating.
Iberian Duelist: A technique of calculated aggression, this style incorporates feints and quick strikes to disorient foes. It also enhances Hamish's agility, allowing him to reposition rapidly and strike from unexpected angles.
Hamish rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Precision an' power That's where my heart lies," he muttered. With a determined nod, he selected Meyer's Edge, feeling the knowledge and skill integrate seamlessly into his movements.
Satisfied, Hamish funneled his remaining M-Power into his Warden class, leveling it to eight. He felt a subtle shift in his connection to the battlefield, his instincts sharpening further. His swordplay now carried a name Meyer's Edge.
Moira's voice, ever guiding, echoed in his mind. "You have taken the path of Meyer, Hamish. Do you know what that name carries?"
Hamish furrowed his brow. "Meyer It's just a name for my technique."
"It is more than that," Moira corrected gently. "Meyer was a duelist of Albion, centuries past. A man who walked into battlefields alone, challenging the worst villains of his era tyrants, warlords, dark sorcerers. He believed that a single, precise strike could turn the tide of war. His blade was never wasted, and his presence alone was enough to break the spirits of those who thrived on cruelty."
Hamish exhaled, inspired by the tale. "The man sounds like a legend."
"Indeed he was. This legend is a historical fact I knew him. Your strikes now carry his name, Hamish. Every swing should honor his philosophy strength through precision, victory through mastery. Fight with the same purpose, and your enemies will fear your name."
Hamish internalized this, sensing new move sets enter his form via Moira's M-Power system.
Nearby, Snow's crystal pulsed gently as she closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift. Her Icicle spell, her most frequently used offensive ability, called out for refinement. She directed her M-Power into the spell, elevating it to level 10.
"Snow," Moira's voice chimed. "Your spell, Icicle, has reached a critical point. Choose its evolution carefully."
Three options appeared before her, each shimmering with frost-like energy:
Piercing Frost: Enhances single-target damage significantly, allowing the icicle to strike with unparalleled force and penetration.
Shattering Chill: Grants an area-of-effect effect to the spell. The targeted enemy takes increased damage, and the icicle shatters upon impact, sending shards of ice in a 10-foot radius to damage nearby enemies.
Chilling Veins: Adds potent status effects to the spell. Targets hit by the icicle suffer slowed movement and reduced attack speed, as well as vulnerability to subsequent frost spells.
Snow studied the options carefully, her brow furrowing. "Debilitating effects that could slow down enemies and weaken their attacks," she thought. "I could use this to give Robert and Hamish an advantage in speed, and improve the damage of my other ice spells. Is this really a choice?"
Moira responded to her rhetorical question. "Each has its advantages. Shattering Chill excels against groups of weaker enemies, for example. Piercing Frost could act as a long-range opening volley, sometimes taking out leaders before combat begins, leaving only melting ice and a lethal wound."
Snow considered Moira's advice, now tempted by them all. "Ew! Don't make this hard on me. While Piercing Frost sounds fun, I'm going to stay with Chilling Veins. I'd rather be a useful team member, I think."
She selected Chilling Veins, feeling the icy magic within her crystal respond with a creeping, insidious cold that pulsed through her veins.
She spent her remaining M-Power leveling her Ice Mage class to eight, feeling her mana reserves deepen and her connection to frost magic strengthen. As the choices settled into her soul, she idly wondered why empowering her ice magic made her feel so warm and complete.
Robert sat with his head bowed, his gauntleted hands resting on his knees. His mind lingered on the spells he had cast, the breakthroughs he had made in combat. Reaching up, he tapped the Aetherium Gem in his chest, summoning the notifications he had pushed aside earlier.
The first message read: "Life Magic Unlocked: By combining Earth, Water, and the essence of life itself, you have discovered Life Magic. This intermediate element allows you to draw on ambient life aether for healing, restoration, and combat against the undead."
"Undead?" Robert whispered, his heart sinking slightly. The implications stirred a quiet unease, a distant echo of the dig site's mysteries. Before he could dwell on it, Moira's voice spoke softly. "They are but another trial, my vessel. Their existence serves to strengthen humanity to sharpen your abilities. Do not fear them, for they are a challenge you are meant to overcome."
The second message appeared: "Triple Element Combinations Discovered: Your unique magical affinity allows you to weave three elements together into unprecedented effects. You have unlocked the trait 'Innovator's Edge,' which grants a 20% bonus to discovery success rates, further enhanced by intelligence and fortune."
Robert exhaled sharply, his hands still tingling from the healing spell. He had felt it three elements clashing, unstable, nearly slipping from his grasp before snapping into place, forming something new. His lips curved into a faint smile. "Innovator's Edge Guess that's my specialty now. Heh. I have a specialty now." He resolved to experiment more with his magic when the opportunity arose.
Rather than pouring his M-Power into individual spells, Robert channeled it into his Apprentice class, raising it to level 10. The surge of energy brought a sense of completion, and Moira's voice offered him choices.
"Robert, your class is ready to evolve. Choose the path that aligns with your vision."
Elementalist: Specializes in mastering individual elements and combining them into complex, powerful spells. This path enhances elemental potency and increases the efficiency of magic casting.
Runic Arcanist: Focuses on inscribing runes to prepare spells in advance or trap foes. This path offers versatility in both combat and crafting.
Aetheric Weaver: Grants enhanced control over Mana Mixing. This path emphasizes adaptability, allowing the caster to improvise and create unique effects during battle.
Robert rubbed his chin thoughtfully, considering each option. The cavern's quiet hum seemed to wait with him, a reminder of the settlement's reliance on his decisions.