Chapter 3: Weak

Killing intent pulsating from Alan's disheveled form ripped through the air, piercing the leathery skin of the goblins, and filling their small forms with fear. Shivers ran down their spines as their bare feet seemed to stay stuck, unable to drag the body above away from this being that suddenly began to radiate such intense power. One of the goblins, who stood among just thirteen, felt moisture leave his eyes as he leered at the monster they had unintentionally angered. He blinked. Alan's form flickered, and the goblin attempted to follow it, battling his innate fear, and struggling to move his body. He watched a head fall, then another, and another, until he stood alone, his brethren slain before he could even blink. Then, the world flipped, and all feeling vanished.

"That was easier than I expected," Alan raised his sword, blood painted onto its surface, "they were young goblins after all. But since when did they have swords?" A mumble left his lips as he yanked his sword down, forcing it to stop and watching as the blood of such disgusting creatures flew from his blade, bathing the grass beneath red.

[Congratulaions: 26 souls have been added]  

"26? I guess those goblins were worth double," With a simple hand motion, a blue screen unraveled

[Profile]

Name: Alan Greeve (Alan Bridun)

Mana Core Evolution: Novice 

Techniques:

Mana Imbue (Imbue your body and weapons with mana) - 1

[Soul Draw] - Absorb the souls of what you kill. The amount of souls gained will be determined by the power of what you kill. Use the souls to draw a random item, technique, or summon. The amount of souls used will determine the power of what you draw. 

Current souls: 41

Man core evolution: C Grade

"If a few goblins will net me this much, I might as well see the kind of technique I'm dealing with." Alan let out a deep sigh, a solemn expression glued onto his face, "Soul Draw."

[How many souls would you like to use?]

Alan noted the question, marking it for when the time came to decipher this technique, "41"

[As a present to accompany your first draw, an extra 100 souls have been added. Current souls used: 141]

Alan clicked his tongue, "This confirms it. This blue screen and soul draw are both techniques that could naturally be developed, but If the details of the technique are the truth, adding more souls artificially shouldn't be possible. It was already kind of obvious someone, or something was interfering, but this is just the nail in the coffin…Are you finally showing yourself?" Alan looked up at the sea of blue with white-dotted blots scattered throughout. His words were directed at someone. Who? He was not sure, but he knew his regressions were not natural. 

A sharp, high-pitched sound spread throughout the forest. Alan snapped his head towards its origin, watching as small sparks of fire began flying around, landing on the blood-stained grass before quickly fading away. It was a peculiar noise, something you would hear watching a blacksmith hammering at red metal, sweating in front of a fire, and then dumping the metal in jet-black oil. The sparks rapidly grew more numerous, flying out with incredible force, forcing Alan to raise his forearm in front of his interested stare. Within this storm of red fireflies, something began to take shape. It started with a hilt wrapped in silk, a circular guard, and then a curved blade. Slightly above, more sparks ignited, giving shape to a black wooden sheath. As this sword and sheath's entire form was revealed, the sparks stopped abruptly, and both fell to the ground with a clank.

[B Grade Katana Summoned]

 "A katana, huh?" Alan took careful steps, dropping an open palm, "I'm pretty good with these." Alan lifted the katana, rubbing his fingers against its pristine blade. He swung it only about a dozen times. The hilt sat uncomfortably in his hands, and he could feel certain muscles strained for the first time, "This body still has a long way to go. I would have also preferred a broadsword," Alan bent down, grabbing the wooden sheath, and smoothly sliding the blade into it, "but beggars can't be choosers. A katana will be fine for now, it's also B Grade. But, I wonder if there's any more info on it?" Alan waved his hand.

Gear:

[B Grade Katana]

Imbued Technique [Bleed] - When an enemy is cut with this Katana, the status effect bleed is applied. This status effect causes the inability to heal, and a 2% reduction in health every 10 seconds. 

With an analytical gaze, Alan calmly jotted down the information in his mind, "This is more useful than I thought." A light smile began to play at the corners of his lips, waving his hand again, and watching the screen fold closed. Alan's eyes then shifted toward the human corpses littering the small clearing, "I need more information first." A suspicion began to gnaw at his mind. I don't think I regressed, he thought, too much information points to this being the future. Eager to gain even a little more knowledge, Alan rushed over to the corpse of a young man, his eyes that of fear, and his mouth hung open. His body sat in a large pool of blood, and the woolen shirt pressed underneath the leather armor was stained with the same crimson liquid. Alan patted his body, searching his pockets, an emotionless, natural expression on his face. Over 9 regressions, death had become all too common. Such weak and unimportant bodies had sent no emotions stirring within him. Moving on the next, Alan searched it, and swiftly moved on,

"They didn't have a lot, huh?" He sighed, examining the loot he set gently on the forest floor. His eyes swept disappointingly to a small, shabby leather pouch tied with a leather string. It was mostly empty, containing a measly six copper coins. To its left, an unraveled piece of paper, brown and worn, with black lettering Alan was able to decipher. It was different language Alan was used to, some words he could not understand, and in his time such sentences would be considered bad grammar. But he understood the meaning. It seemed to be detailing a quest: Kill 15 goblins, Grade E. A symbol Alan was all too familiar with was stamped in the bottom right corner. Two eagles facing opposite directions with swords stabbed through them forming an X. 

"The stamp of authenticity of the Adventurers Guild" Alan mumbled, a slight smile growing as memories replayed in his mind, "I still can't believe that bastard kept that shitty symbol," A light chuckle escaped his lips, "But this means that I'm definitely in the future. I came up with that symbol in my past regressions, and there would be no good reason to send me to a time before I would have had to kill the combat gods," Alan brought his head upwards, staring up at the sea of blood once more, "I said I was done with this," He sighed, squatting down and pocketing the only two useful items on the adventurer's corpses, "Why couldn't they at least have a map?"