On the sixth day of training, Orban had something different planned.
The recruits assembled at the training grounds just after dawn, seven in total, all standing in formation with packs slung over their shoulders. Peter shifted on his feet, glancing at the others. Today wasn't just drills or sparring. Today, they were going to hunt monsters.
"Listen up, trash!" Orban barked, stomping across the packed earth with the same energy he brought to every morning.
Peter sighed. Right on schedule.
Can't go a minute without insulting someone.
"You're worth less than the horse dung stuck to my sandals!" Orban continued, flicking said dung off with dramatic flair. "You think five days of training makes you adventurers? Wrong. You're walking meat for anything bigger than a beetle."
He actually had horse dung on his sandals and was flicking it off…
Peter shook his head. This really was a medieval world.
"Don't think for a second you have what it takes to be an adventurer. You're nothing more than lunch for anything bigger than a maggot."
Orban, this world probably has some pretty large maggots, I think you are setting the bar too high.
"You might as well drop into a fetal position right now and cry for your mothers, you worthless scum!"
The insults continued for another ten minutes. He didn't repeat himself once. Truly, a master of verbal abuse.
"It's time to experience working together as a team now that you've had time to improve your physical abilities and see how each other fights. Don't get too cocky, you're still nothing better than garbage and the only monsters you won't die against are goblins. Keep everything I said in mind and make sure you don't die."
Aww, Orban you really do care about us, you tsundere you.
Beneath the abuse, Orban finally got to the point. The team would be heading east, toward the Iendal Hills. Goblins had built another camp there, and the Guild wanted it cleared. It wasn't a real quest, more like a field test. Goblins were weak in small numbers, but dangerous if left to gather. And these ones had been multiplying again.
"Move as a group. Find the camp, kill every goblin, and bring me the ears. If you don't come back, I'll assume you're dead, and probably laugh about it." Orban crossed his arms, grim as ever. "I won't be following you in. This is on you."
The recruits exchanged uncertain glances. But no one argued.
The journey would take a couple of hours on foot. Orban had insisted on walking, part of the test. Adventurers didn't always get to ride in carts or rest before battle. Sometimes, you walked half a day, then fought until your arms gave out.
Peter didn't mind. He was used to worse. The forest with Reia had been far more brutal.
As they left the gates of Enrain, the group fell into a loose formation. Peter found himself walking beside Tris. It had become something of a pattern. The younger recruits stuck together, chatting with a mix of nerves and excitement. Dreg, as usual, kept to himself.
Peter still didn't quite trust Dreg. There was something... closed off about him. Watchful. Like someone who was always calculating.
Tris, on the other hand, was easy to talk to. She had a dry sense of humor and knew a surprising amount about the world. Over the past few days, Peter had quietly asked her about the Kingdom of La'gun, the neighboring realms, and bits of common sense he was missing. He tried not to draw too much attention to his ignorance, spinning a story about being a minor noble from a distant province. She hadn't questioned it, at least not openly.
It had been nearly a week since he'd seen Reia. He missed her more than he expected. Tris was smart and funny, and he could see them being friends, but she hadn't saved his life or trained him in the middle of a monster infested forest. She hadn't seen him at his weakest. That mattered.
Still, she was the only one around his age. Most of the other trainees were clearly younger, kids, really. Dreg didn't count. That guy wasn't friendly with anyone.
Peter found himself wondering whether Reia and Tris would get along. He was even starting to consider asking Tris to join his party. But there was one thing he needed to ask first.
"Hey, Tris," he said, voice low enough not to carry. "You remember that friend I mentioned? Reia?"
"Yeah, I remember you talking about her. What about it?"
"I'll just come out and say it, Reia is a Beastkin. I heard they're discriminated against in the Kingdom of La'gun, and I was curious about your take on it."
Tris didn't answer right away. Her expression shifted slightly, the first real hesitation Peter had seen from her since they started walking. Eventually, she spoke.
"Long ago, there were only Humans in this world. No Beastkin, no monsters. Just us."
Peter blinked. That's not what Reia told me.
"Wait, so... where did they come from then?" he asked, unable to hide the question before it slipped out.
"No one knows for sure," Tris said. "There was said to be a vast empire back then. It covered the entire continent. The capital and most of the population lived somewhere to the west, in a region we now call the Plains of Sorrow."
Cheerful name.
"They say the empire had power beyond imagination. Magic, technology, maybe both. But one day, it all vanished. The heart of the empire was obliterated, and everyone in it either died or disappeared. The ones who lived farther from the center were the only ones left."
"How long ago are we talking?" Peter asked.
"Almost five thousand years. Civilization collapsed. And then... the Beastkin appeared. Along with monsters. Dungeons too. No one really knows how or why. Some say they were born from the ruin itself."
This was way more than Peter expected. Reia had mentioned ancient collapse, sure, but not like this.
"So Beastkin and monsters just started showing up after everything went to hell? That's why Humans thought they were monsters?"
"That's the theory. People were barely surviving. Cities had fallen, food was scarce, and monsters were everywhere. It was a miracle anyone survived at all. Took thousands of years to rebuild, and by the time people started to see Beastkin, they were already on edge. Scared. Desperate. When Humans finally did meet them... well, they assumed the worst."
Peter frowned. "Even now?"
Tris gave a tired nod. "Even now. There are some who say that Beastkin aren't the same as monsters, but most think differently. The Beastkin are too different. They're not like us. It is even more suspicious when most of the Beastkin tribes still live in the ruins of the old empire and even thrive there. The Plains of Sorrow is a dangerous place. It's contaminated. Most humans can't survive there for long. The Beastkin are also very aggressive. There are often conflicts between them and humans. They don't trade much. Don't integrate. Makes it easy to keep fearing them."
Peter glanced down at the road ahead, chewing on her words. The more he heard, the less it felt like a fantasy story and more like a twisted, broken history.
"And in the south," Tris added, her tone hardening slightly, "there's the Reginar Homen Empire. They don't just discriminate. They enslave Beastkin. If they won't serve, they're killed."
Peter felt a spike of anger at that. "That's disgusting."
Tris gave a small nod. "Yeah... it is."
She looked ahead as she said it, her voice quieter than before. For a moment, it seemed like she might say more, but she didn't. She adjusted the strap on her pack, eyes fixed forward, and said nothing else.
Peter didn't notice the brief shift in her expression, the tightness in her jaw, the way her fingers curled slightly at her sides.
They let the conversation drift to lighter topics after that. Peter was still chewing on what she'd said, but he didn't press further. It wasn't the kind of thing you solved in a single chat.
Eventually, the hills came into view, rolling terrain spotted with rocky outcrops and low scrub. Tris scouted ahead, moving with quiet efficiency. Within fifteen minutes, she returned with a report.
"Goblin camp. North slope. Fifteen of them, maybe more."
"If they're as weak as Orban said," Peter muttered, "this'll be a cakewalk."
Arin had decided on his own that he was the leader and began organizing the group. "Orthus and I will take the front. Tris, you stay in the rear and cover us with your bow. Dreg, you take the center. If anything gets past us, it's yours. Aessa, you'll be behind us as well. Use elemental magic, but don't use fire, too much risk of collateral damage. Stick to wind or ice. Idren, support the middle and slow them down with your spells."
Peter crossed his arms. "Aren't you forgetting someone, Arin?"
"Oh right... the weird old guy?"
Who the hell are you calling old?
"You want me to hit you with black flames during the fight?" Peter growled.
Arin paled a little. "Alright! Sorry! Just do whatever you want!"
Peter grinned. He'd take that as a win.
Not much of a leader, is he?
They got into formation and advanced at a jog. Peter stayed to the side, watching for stragglers. The goblin camp came into view, and the creatures let out a series of high-pitched yelps. Their weapons and armor looked like junk, rusty blades, cracked leather, splintered wood.
Still, they coordinated their attack better than expected.
Peter drew his sword and reached inward, summoning the Void. Black flames flickered to life around his hands. He'd been experimenting with storing the fire on his arms, using it defensively and then launching it when needed. Versatile. Efficient. Deadly.
Tris was already firing arrows in rapid succession. Her aim was impressive. She really would be useful in a party.
Idren rooted several goblins in place with some kind of earth magic. One even got caught in a small mud trap. Aessa stood still, palms extended, chanting. Wind blades sliced through the goblins like invisible razors.
Peter blinked. Was she throwing 'hadoukens'? No, just good old fashioned spellcasting.
Orthus and Arin were in their element, cutting down goblins that made it to the front. Peter sent his Void flames flying toward two that broke off from the pack. They burned where they stood, unable to even cry out before crumbling into ash.
It was over in ten minutes. Quick, brutal, and a little anticlimactic.
Peter could only use his flames three times, but that had been enough. The others cleaned up the rest.
With the battle finished, they got to work collecting goblin ears. Peter crouched near a body and felt it again, the strange pull. His body drank in the dark matter clinging to the corpse. By the fifteenth goblin, a surge of energy coursed through him.
That's gotta be the Void threshold kicking in.
He'd had 15 VP before. The crystal had shown the next level required 30. And now, after 15 goblins, something inside him shifted.
Level up? Sort of?
The others were busy cutting away at the monster bodies. Their corpses wouldn't last long before fading. Peter noticed Tris was doing something odd, she'd already taken the goblin's ear, but she was still cutting it open.
He stepped closer, the stench immediately hitting him in the face.
"You already got the ear. Why are you slicing it open? The smell is awful!"
Tris gave him a strange look. "The magic crystal. They're valuable. You didn't know?"
So Reia was searching for crystals too, back in the forest? She hadn't found any.
"Do all monsters have them?"
Tris stared at him. "Peter... everyone knows that. You must've lived under a rock."
That's weird. Then why didn't we find any in the forest?
"I can't find it," she muttered, digging deeper. "It should be in here."
She wasn't the only one. The others had been searching the goblins too. No one had found a single crystal.
"This doesn't make any sense…" someone muttered nearby.
After a while, they gave up and returned to the rendezvous point. Orban waited with arms folded and a bored look on his face.
He raised an eyebrow like he was surprised to see them alive. Peter was starting to think he wouldn't have minded if they didn't make it back.
"The fact that none of you died is either dumb luck or dumb monsters," Orban said. "Probably both."
The walk to town was uneventful. The whole experience had been a bit underwhelming. But it had still been a real fight. His first, in a group like this. It felt different.
On the way, Orban launched into another speech about knowing the limits of a maggot. When he said maggot, he meant them. Obviously.
Back at the Guild, he gave one last lecture about checking the divination crystal after every mission. Apparently, it was the only way to know if they'd gotten stronger.
Peter was the last to enter the room.
He placed his hand on the crystal.
[Level: -1 EXP: 0/0]
[HP: 15/15] [Health Regen: 0.01/min]
[VP: 30/30] [Void Threshold: 30 | Next Level: 60] [Void Regen: 0.1/min]
Strength: 9
Dexterity: 9
Constitution: 10
Charisma: 10
Intelligence: 137
Wisdom: 155
Acquired Proficiencies: Sword (Level 3/10 – Intermediate)
Blessings: Blessing of the Void (?)
Special Ability: Molecular Absorption (Absorbs dark matter contamination, strengthening host)
Inherent Status: Immortality (Body and soul no longer age)
Affinities: Void
Void Element – Void Flame (5 VP, 1 VP/min): Manipulate flames from the Void for offense and defense.
So the surge I felt was hitting the threshold. I gained VP equal to the goblins I absorbed. A couple of my stats went up too. Swordsmanship is now intermediate. Wisdom increased a bit as well.
And the threshold doubled. Is that how it'll always work? Maybe. Too soon to say.
No change to VP or HP regen. HP regen is probably tied to Constitution. VP regen... still a mystery.
There's a lot I still don't know about this power. I'll just have to keep testing it.