Amazons

Alice was taken aback when she encountered the individual who would be the first hero. Truth be told, she had never anticipated a woman fulfilling this role. In her understanding, women were seldom ever celebrated as heroes, with history often relegating them to the margins of tales dominated by men. The sole exception she could recall ended up being burnt alive because of her convictions.

But here she stood before an exceptionally strong and confident woman, noticeably taller than herself. Despite her previous lack of sight rendering comparisons difficult, she was aware that she was not notably short, making the figure before her quite a remarkable presence among their gender.

Her skin was notably different, a color she somehow knew came from extensive sun exposure. Her muscles were also very pronounced, unlike anything she had heard of in a woman. As for the beauty standards of this individual, she had absolutely no idea. With her previous world being absent of colors and forms, she had no way to assess the aesthetics of the person in front of her. She only knew she was a woman because of her larger breasts and wider hips, traits she somehow recognized, and she guessed it was part of the gifted knowledge that allowed her to identify things visually.

But she did not let that show on her face. She understood the importance of first impressions, which is why she simply smiled and performed a polite bow, waiting for the other to speak first instead of immediately alerting her with her Magic Drawing.

"So, you are the guide they mentioned?" the woman asked, examining her with a scrutinizing gaze.

Alice saw the symbols form in the air as the woman spoke. It was truly incredible and would take time to get used to, but nevertheless, they served their purpose. Alice could perfectly understand what she said. She then smiled and smoothly began to write in the air.

"A pleasure to meet you. You may refer to me as Alice. I am a Seer who will guide you in your quest."

The woman quickly placed her hand on what Alice recognized as a sword, something she had somehow overlooked before, but she remained calm and patiently waited. After a moment, the woman's expression softened, and she executed a somewhat awkward bow.

"I understand," she said. "I will heed your counsel, Seer Alice," she added, offering a slight bow. "You may call me Thaleia, Amazonian Guardian of the Wilds."

'Amazonian?' Alice pondered, trying to recall where she had heard that term before. The truth was, although Alice herself could not read, she had a servant who would read books aloud to her. This was one of her few sources of entertainment back then, and through it, she had been exposed to many stories.

As she delved deeper into her memory, Alice remembered tales of fierce warrior women, the Amazons, who were renowned for their bravery and skill in combat. These stories often depicted them as living in societies where women led as warriors, hunters, and rulers. The term 'Amazonian' suddenly clicked for Alice, connecting Thaleia to the legendary tribe of female warriors known for their strength and independence.

This revelation sparked a mixture of awe and excitement within Alice. The thought that she was standing before someone who identified with such a formidable and storied lineage was both daunting and exhilarating. It made sense now—Thaleia's demeanor, her confidence, and even her title as the "Guardian of the Wilds'' seemed to embody the Amazonian spirit.

Alice was eagerly anticipating the other interesting things The Game had in store. She smiled again, this time genuinely. Not that anyone would be able to tell the difference.

***

Their initial attempt with the enhanced setup was imminent. Dante found himself securely shielded by a trio of skeleton warriors, positioned strategically to act as a literal bone barrier against the adversaries. Their role was clear: not to engage in combat or advance, but to simply hold their ground, serving as a static defense until their hit points were depleted. Positioned right at the periphery of the enemy's domain, Dante effectively stayed out of the aggro zone*.

Turning his attention to Virgil, Dante observed as his summon, embodying the essence of a battle-hardened warrior, familiarized himself with the heft and equilibrium of his newly acquired weapon, ensuring its suitability for the imminent confrontation:

Weapon: 2-H bone staff (Rank 1, Level 3)

Durability: 150/150

Weight: 8.8 kg

Virgil's gaze met Dante's, a silent communication that resonated with readiness and determination. Dante, understanding the unspoken message, returned the look with a firm nod of affirmation. With this exchange, the signal was clear: it was time to begin.

Virgil materialized 20 meters within the domain, instantly springing into action. He darted forward, weaving through a barrage of incoming arrows with the agility of a seasoned warrior, sidestepping the thrusts of the skeletal hounds as if participating in a deadly ballet. His approach towards the enemy summoner was swift, yet he found his path obstructed by the same three skeletal warriors that had always blocked him before. A brief but intense skirmish ensued, where Virgil, empowered by the added might and the heft of his new two-handed bone staff, managed to shatter the opposition. His strength, magnified by the weapon's weight, allowed him to carve a path through the skeletal blockade, even as he was besieged from all sides. He had finally done it.

Meanwhile, Dante, stationed behind his precarious skeletal barricade besieged by arrows, wasn't visually witnessing the fray. Yet, through his psychic tether with Virgil, he was privy to every maneuver, every close call. The tension he felt was akin to that of a gambler who had bet his last on a daring roll, or a scientist in the throes of awaiting the outcome of a pivotal experiment, or perhaps like a chef wondering if substituting baking soda with baking powder in a recipe would bring disaster or unexpected delight. And when Virgil finally breached the defense that had thwarted them time and again, a wave of relief and triumph washed over Dante. He couldn't help but let out a jubilant smirk. Virgil had, against all odds, reached the enemy summoner.

Just as Virgil was on the cusp of reaching him, the monarch, who had maintained a silent vigil from his throne, chose that moment to act. Rising with a grace that belied the age of his bones, his movement carried a solemn elegance, transforming what could have been a simple act into a display of artistry. Then, as if summoned from the ether, a full-body armor of radiant white, seemingly crafted from bone yet possessing a beauty and shine that defied belief, enveloped him. Alongside, a shield materialized in his left hand, its design harmonizing perfectly with his armor, and finally, a mace — exquisitely forged yet bearing the marks of time — appeared in his grasp. With the appearance of the mace, the very essence of the skeletal ruler shifted; he was no longer just a summoner seated upon a throne, but a warrior ready for battle.

"Fuck," Dante muttered under his breath, having anticipated that their adversary might also possess the ability to conjure weaponry and armor. Yet, the glaring disparity in quality sent a wave of unease through him. The enemy's gear, shimmering with a craftsmanship that suggested a level well beyond 5, dwarfed Virgil's simpler armament. More daunting was Virgil's lack of armor against an opponent fully clad in a bone ensemble that seemed impervious to harm. Dante's slender hope hinged on the belief that Virgil's superior stats might tip the scales in their favor, but reality was unforgiving.

As Virgil charged, his two-handed staff aimed with precision at a vulnerable joint in the armor, the enemy responded with a deflection so fluid and elegant it bordered on artistic. Dante, no stranger to the art of combat, held Virgil in high esteem for his tactical prowess honed over countless battles. Yet, the effortless grace with which the enemy summoner parried Virgil's strike was a stark reminder of the boundless potential for mastery in combat. "The sky's the limit," indeed—a bitter realization that their opponent's technique not only matched but surpassed Virgil's by a considerable margin.

The battle unfolded with Virgil displaying commendable skill, wielding his staff with the finesse of a seasoned fighter. Each strike and feint executed with the intent to exploit the smallest opening, yet the enemy summoner, shield and mace in hand, countered with superior strategy and strength.

Despite Virgil's valiant efforts, the enemy's superior technique and equipment gradually wore him down. The climax of their confrontation saw Virgil cornered, the relentless assault from the skeletal ruler leaving him in the blink of death. Recognizing the peril, Dante acted swiftly, summoning Virgil back to safety outside the domain. Their strategic foresight in waiting for both their summoning skills cooldown before engaging proved crucial, allowing them a tactical withdrawal to regroup and reassess.

As Virgil materialized beside Dante, the weight of their predicament became all too clear. They were outmatched by their foe in nearly every aspect.

Dante's gaze returned to the skeletal ruler, who had resumed his seat upon the throne as if the recent skirmish were but a fleeting distraction. The monarch's regal armor gleamed ominously in the dim light of the chamber, a stark reminder of his superiority. Notably, the ruler's minions had stood aside during the confrontation, a silent testament to his self-assurance and singular prowess: he alone was enough. This encounter served as a brutal reality check for Dante, igniting a mix of frustration and grudging respect within him. Despite his vexation at their adversary's dominance, Dante couldn't deny the imposing presence of the skeletal monarch. His strength, skill, and palpable sense of pride commanded respect. It was a sobering acknowledgment for Dante: in the face of such a formidable opponent, they had much to overcome.