Chapter 12: While You Were Sleeping

  A soft hum of magic stirred Marcus from unconsciousness. His mind felt sluggish, as if clawing its way out of darkness. His body was weightless, floating in a void. Slowly, sensation returned—first the dull ache of overused muscles, then the warmth of healing energy flowing through his veins.

  He blinked, vision clearing. Gone was the dense forest and bloodied battlefield. Instead, sterile white light bathed the room, the scent of herbs and soothing oils filling his lungs. He lay on a healer’s table, covered in soft sheets, surrounded by the faint glow of enchanted lights. The crackle of magic lingered in the air.

  It took a moment before understanding settled in—he was in one a hospital. A steady pulse of magic still coursed through his body, but something felt… wrong. His mana channels buzzed, before he wouldn't have been able to point at where one was, but now he could feel it, and the pain that lingered from the emptiness.

  A healer stood nearby, a tall elven woman clad in white robes. A glowing crystal embedded in her palm flickered as she examined him, her brows furrowing.

  “This is… strange,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. “Your mana channels are severely depleted, but that’s not what concerns me most.” Her eyes narrowed as she scanned him further. “Your blood vessels show signs of rupture—consistent with Psycha strain.” She paused, swiping a translucent panel of light in front of her. “But your records list you as a mana user.”

  Marcus’s breath hitched. The battle flashed through his mind—his fists burning with raw power, his body surging beyond its limits.

  The healer’s gaze shifted lower, examining his torn muscles and the faint scars left by the beasts’ claws. Her fingers hovered over a spectral image of his body, her expression darkening.

  “Tendons ripped from the bone…” she murmured, more intrigued than alarmed. “That’s common among overworked Ki users.”

  Marcus’s heart pounded.

  “What?” he blurted, trying to mask his panic.

  The elf tilted her head, as if considering something impossible. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had access to all three magic affinities.”

  She shook her head. “No, that’s absurd. No one can manipulate all three. Maybe… maybe it’s a side effect of your unique class.” Her fingers tapped the glowing display. “Spell Fist… hmm.”

  Marcus forced his face into a neutral expression, though inside, paranoia clawed at him.

  The healer continued, her voice calm but laced with curiosity. “Your class must put immense strain on your body. You should consider prioritizing Strength and Wisdom in your stat allocation. Otherwise, continued usage could lead to permanent damage.”

  She glanced at another readout and exhaled slowly. “Level seven already… truly strange.”

  Marcus barely heard her. Relief washed over him—she didn’t believe her own analysis. She saw the truth but dismissed it as impossible.

  Still, her words left a weight in his chest. He had always felt different, his abilities blending in ways they shouldn’t. But hearing it spoken aloud, even as speculation, made it real.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The healer glanced at him. “You’re lucky to be alive. A level seven with this kind of mana output is almost too… unbelievable.”

  Marcus said nothing, only nodding slightly. They don’t know the truth. He repeated the thought like a mantra, but doubt gnawed at him.

  Before the silence could stretch, a familiar voice cut through the air.

  “Ah! Grek is glad to see you still breathing, Marcus!”

  The goblin’s small form filled the doorway, his chest heaving slightly, as if he had rushed over. His wide grin gleamed with sharp teeth.

  Marcus let out a weak chuckle. “Grek…”

  Grek’s ears twitched. “Sorry, Marcus. Grek had hoped your first trip to Xenor would be less… eventful.” He spread his arms. “But, welcome to Xenor!”

  Marcus huffed a laugh, then winced at the pain. “Not exactly the grand entrance I imagined. But thanks for getting me here.” He glanced around. “This place seems top-notch.”

  Grek puffed out his chest. “It is! An Illidum Church healing convent.”

  Marcus’s smile faltered. “Wait… that crazy church everyone says to avoid?”

  Grek waved a dismissive hand. “No worries, friend. The healer over there owes Grek a favor.” He shot the elf a toothy grin. “And elves always pay their debts… ain’t that right, bird?”

  The healer scoffed but said nothing, returning to her notes.

  Grek smirked. “Hmph. Even if they do so reluctantly.” he muttered as He turned back to Marcus, placing a small pouch in his hand. “Grek paid for your treatment. Also, take this—you’ll need coin'is to get around the city.”

  Marcus frowned. “I… I can’t—”

  “Grek insists.” The goblin’s grin widened. “You earned it. Not just for the fight, but for saving Grek.” His voice softened slightly "and most importantly 'Grek's stuffs'. Grek’s caravan never would have survived without you, would've lost out on so many coin'is. Never expected beasts that strong to be in the area…”

  Marcus hesitated.

  “Think of it like a quest reward, if it helps,” Grek added with a wink.

  Marcus exhaled and finally accepted the pouch. The weight of the coins felt heavier than it should. “Thanks,” he muttered.

  Grek patted his head with a cackle. “No problem, friend! Just make sure you don’t get yourself killed. Xenor’s got a lot more dangers than beasties.”

  Before Marcus could respond, a booming voice filled the room.

  “Look who’s awake! The deadliest pup to ever walk Terra!”

  Marcus turned to see Boruk stride in, flanked by Ragn and Vira.

  “Arf, arf,” Marcus joked, only to groan as pain flared through his body.

  Ragn chuckled, stepping forward to fluff Marcus’s pillow. “Whoa there, brother. Let the healing table do its job. Elves may be uptight, but their healing magic is no joke.”

  Marcus smirked but turned his gaze to Vira. She stood quietly, her eyes puffy as if she had been crying.

  “Hey, Vira,” he said gently. “You okay?”

  She stepped closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “Are 'you' okay, Marcus?”

  He nodded. “I’m fine. Believe me, I’ve been worse. Doc says I’ll be back on my feet in no time.”

  Vira’s lips curled into a soft smile, her eyes a little brighter. They held each other’s gaze for a long moment—until Ragn loudly cleared his throat.

  “So…” Ragn crossed his arms. “You gonna explain how the hell you pulled that off?”

  Marcus hesitated. “I got a new skill—”

  “I know you got a new skill,” Ragn interrupted. “But that doesn’t explain the power I felt.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re a mana user, but I know I felt Psycha.”

  Boruk stroked his beard. “And I definitely felt echoes of Ki reverberating off your punches. You don’t need mana sense to see the energy you were putting out.”

  Marcus swallowed hard.

  Vira finally spoke up. “Guys, remember—he’s technically a Spell Sword, even if he’s using his fists instead of a sword. His Spell Fist class channels mana like a spellsword, and their magic can get… weird.”

  Ragn frowned but didn’t argue.

  Boruk sighed. “Fine, I won’t press, but listen—you need to allocate your stat points soon. If you don’t, this is going to happen again.”

  Vira spoke up...I leveled during our last battle...did you...

  Marcus nodded, then blinked as he finally noticed a familiar flashing of the system notification.

  You defeated Obsidian cat: adolescent x11

  You defeated Obsidian cat: juvenile x7

  You defeated Obsidian cat: adult x1

  Congratulations you've reached level 7

  Congratulations you've reached level 8

  Congratulations you have attained a new Skill

  Name: Marcus Elder

  Race: Human

  Class: Spell Fist ,Unique

  Level: 8

  Experience: 997/5000

  HP: 180/180

  MP: 18

  KI: 18

  PSY: 18

  Stats:

  Strength: 21

  Agility: 18

  Endurance: 22

  Intelligence: 14

  Wisdom: 11

  Luck: 11

  Abilities:

  The Unseen One ,Mythic, Hidden: Blocks bearer's stats from intrusive minds

  Floating Butterfly, Stinging Bee: Become a storm of grace and devastation on the battle field time. Skill duration, 1 minute. Skill cool down, 3 hours. Note: do not activate skill more that 3 times in one 24 hour period, or risk severe bodily damage.

  Marks:

  Perma: Universal Magic Affinity, Unique

  Achievements:

  Fighting Pioneer: For creating a unique combat style and forging a new path, you have earned the title "Fighting Pioneer". Stats increased by 10%. Mythic

  Spell Fist Prodigy: earn your first skill before ranking up your class, reaching level 10, and spending a single stat point. Additional 5% to all stats. Applied after all other boons have been accounted for.

  Unallocated Points: 20

  I gained another achievement! Marcus said dumb founded...

  What!? The orcs screamed collectively....