A Matter of Choice

[CONGRATULATIONS! YOU HAVE SUCCESSFULLY KILLED A NIGHTLY CREATURE!

CREATURES KILLED: 5/5

THE QUEST HAS BEEN SUCCESSFULLY COMPLETED!]

[THE PLAYER HAS SUCCESSFULLY LEVELED TO -5]

It was not before a few minutes after the appearance of the completion message did his unusual killing instinct die down. It was a slow and gradual process.

Though the "training island" had been wiped clean of the presence of the nightly creatures, their nasty and terrifying prana was still lingering parts of it, like a pest. Though Remirg could easily have absorbed that prana for the sake of his own use, he resented from doing so.

He let the prana die down over the course of time as he stood wondering what had overtaken him in the midst of battle that had resulted in such a great conclusion as this. Neither did he have the skill nor the maneuvers in order to pull out from such a situation.

Something else, a different force than his, was responsible for it. A force which Remirg didn't know of. Though still, it all was for his advantage.

As dawn peeked upon the edge of the sky, as the clouds enveloped in the dark started to shimmer the faintest red, Remirg realized for how long he had been engaged in battle. Though it felt like minutes to him, it actually took hours.

And before he could think of anything else, fatigue took over him.

It was so intense that he couldn't fend it off. He needed some rest. The use of different artifacts with prana potions and the constant release of such massive amounts of prana sure had a dire impact on his body. He needed to recuperate.

Quite conveniently, Mark slid in the new notification at the very right moment.

[THE SECOND ROOM IS NOW PERMANENTLY OPEN TO THE PLAYER! THE PLAYER MAY NOW SKIP NIGHTS BY SLEEPING!]

Upon the appearance of such a relieving notification, Remirg was overcome with a deep sense of satisfaction.

He could already see the appearance of the transparent prana door in front of him, a few feet away from the lonely monolith of the island.

Shaking quite profusely, Remirg made weak steps forward, taking one step at a time, before he was standing right in front of the door to his peace. Unlocking it with the few remnants of prana still remaining inside him, he somehow managed to unlock the door.

The room's warm aura and coziness was pleasurable enough to overcome Remirg.

It took no more than a second before which Remirg was lying motionless in the bed, already fast asleep. While asleep, one could clearly see the scars covering his heels and foot. The absence of boots on his feet really was quite an excruciating fact for him.

Meanwhile, Mark Eisner was wondering something different.

"I wonder what is 'he' doing right now. He should be on his move I believe...."

Somewhere in the Kingdom of Ritia

The person with the hood over his head was moving with a great speed. His agility was top notch, never running into any person. His footsteps were muffled, producing no sound at all. People didn't seem to bother or notice about him.

It was as if his existence has been veiled by the very nature itself.

Maneuvering quite skillfully out of the bustling crowd, he pulled himself silently into a dingy street, smelling of rotten flesh and urine. It was obnoxious, though it didn't have any effect on him at all.

Moving swiftly through the narrow passage, he halted right in front of an old rusty iron door, which led to a building old enough to be called abandoned, sandwiched right between two bustling plazas, barely visible to anyone at all.

The creaking of the opening of the door was muffled by the loudness of the crowd on the roads on the either side. Quite convenient it was.

The person slid right into the building through the door, closing the door behind him as fast as possible. Even the slightest of traces could lead to dire conclusions, and he was quite professional at his job.

Sliding past random corners inside the crumbling building, the man entered a room, which was quiet, in contrast with the other parts of the building, was best preserved, its walls still able to retain the concrete slapped over it a century ago.

But what was of more interest to him was the duke sitting right onto the half-destroyed sofa lying right in the center of the room of which the floor was plastered with concrete rather than tiled, quite an old-fashioned room it was.

Upon the entrance of the man, the duke stood up to greet his acquaintance, thanking him for accepting a rendezvous with him.

After making himself comfortable again, the duke requested the man to have a seat as well, considering it had been a long journey for him, travelling hundreds of miles from the south.

Though still, the man waved away his proposal. He was in a hurry. He needed to deal with the duke as quickly as possible. The job ahead was screaming for his presence.

Opening his mouth, the man spoke in a hoarse voice, rather much deeper than a normal man. It almost sounded monstrous. But still, it was the voice of reason. It spoke the reality. 

"Yes, there was. A Z-Class mage did appear in Shisa. He wasn't even from the nobility, but one of the shack-dwellers, and I must say, comparing from his age, he was quite powerful. Nobody his age at Craver would be able to parry him. He has gained quite a lot understanding about the mechanisms of prana.

Though we managed to conceal the presence of magic in most parts of the country, this incident was bound to happen. Nature chooses its own harbinger."

The duke, listening intently to the man's info, was barely able to conceal his shock and disgust. It was disgusting for a non-noble to possess magic. It was outrageous. A clear attack over the principles of the society. This situation needed to be dealt with quickly or it would have disastrous consequences.

Bringing his smile back again on his face, the duke replied to the man, who was already on his move, ready to take his leave.

"Let this world be charred with Finz's blood."