Enochia came awake slowly. Her entire body felt like it had been folded into a box too small for the night, and was now demanding movement, until she couldn’t resist anymore and gave in with a full, shameless stretch that started at her fingertips and rolled all the way down to her toes.
“‘mmmmmh…”
The relief hit so hard it dragged an actual, involuntary moan out of her throat. Heat rushed to her face the instant she heard it, eyes snapping wide as the blush burned across her cheeks, and she whipped her head around in panic, half-expecting to find someone, only to lock eyes with Cervain standing exactly where he’d been hours ago.
He was just… looking at her. Or at least turned toward her. Hard to tell with the visor.
She coughed, scrubbing a hand over her face like she could wipe the embarrassment off with it. “Good morning, Cervain! Uh. I hope you had a good night’s slee—wait.” She stopped herself, wincing. “You didn’t sleep. Shit. My bad. I really don’t want to come off like a total dick here, seriously. Actually, wait—do you even need sleep?”
Cervain tilted his head a fraction, then gave the smallest, almost imperceptible shake.
“Oh.” Enochia exhaled, shoulders dropping a little. “Nevermind. Next time I’ll find us a better spot and you can take a break or whatever knights do when they’re off duty. Or hell, you can nap while we’re moving! I’m planning to ditch this place the second this thing runs dry anyway.”
She pushed herself up, brushing absently at the thick layer of white dust still clinging to her armor, her hair, basically every inch of exposed skin. “How’s the farm going, big guy?”
She flicked her wrist, parting the cage of chains with a lazy gesture, expecting the usual grotesque pillar and maybe a fresh imp tumbling out into Cervain’s waiting blade.
Instead there was just… nothing.
A hollow space where the node had been, surrounded by drifts of pale dust and a few scattered links of broken chain, like something had crumbled quietly in the night and left only powder behind.
Enochia stared for a long second.
“Roo,” she said, voice flat.
[Yes, Enochia?]
“Where the hell did the demon-spawning thing go?”
[The Lesser Demon Birthing Node reached its maximum allotted production during your sleep and has since fractured and dissipated. It is no longer functional.]
Enochia felt the disappointment hit like a cold splash of water, and for a moment she just stood there with her mouth half open, trying to process the fact that her infinite-imp-XP-cheese-strategy had broken.
“Right,” she muttered, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Worth the effort either way, I guess. But I don’t exactly remember you saying they were this shit?”
[The poor yield and limited lifespan are consistent with its classification.]
[As the name suggests, this was a lesser variant, even lesser than the most basic nodes, and it was already ancient and heavily depleted when you discovered it. Most of its generative capacity had been spent centuries ago.]
“Okay, okay.” She waved a hand, pacing a tight circle and kicking up little puffs of dust with every step. “Fine. I better have gotten some absolutely juicy XP for babysitting this thing all night, because I do not want to spend one second longer than necessary in this lava-soaked shithole. Besides, early levels are a lot easier to get.”
─────────────────────────────
STATUS:
Name: Enochia Adams
Title: N/A
Level: 28
EXP: 1,100 / 28,000
HP: 1,250 / 1,250
MANA: 3,300 / 3,300
STR: 10
AGI: 20
VIT: 25
FAI: 110
LCK: 16
DEF: 0
Free Points: 32
[ EXP ▓????????????????????? ] 4%
═════════════════════════════════════════════
Enochia let out a low, drawn-out whistle.
“Nice,” she said, drawing the word out as she started cracking her gauntleted fingers one by one. “Really nice, actually. But I gotta admit, part of me was secretly hoping I’d blink and be at level fifty.”
She rolled her neck, feeling the last bits of sleep-stiffness work their way out, and let her thoughts drift while she paced another slow circle through the dust.
“If I’m being honest with myself, though, a more realistic part of me knew that was greedy as hell. Back when I was still unregistered, scraping by on whatever imps and stragglers leaked out of random gate breaches, it would’ve taken a solid month of constant hunting just to hit twenty-eight, assuming average luck and zero backup."
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
She stopped for a second. “If I had a few good private gates and a decent team though? Sure, I could blast through it in days and get the same result. That’s how the Apostles stay on top, the Ministry threw resources at the Saints with stupid-high potentials until they snowballed.”
She huffed a quiet laugh, half fond, half bitter.
“Hell, last time I saw John Romano he was knocking on level four hundred’s door like it was nothing. I miss that idiot sometimes… I hope he’s taking my death well.” She shook her head, smirking despite herself. “Nah, what am I saying—of course he’s fine. It’s John fucking Romano.”
The thought lingered for a second, before another filled her mind.
“Point is, the curve with levels gets brutal later down the line, but it’s still worth every drop of sweat because the skills you unlock at those tiers are absolutely disgusting, and the stat points just keep piling up.” Her eyes widened a fraction as the realization hit. “Wait. Skills.”
She stopped her thoughts. “Hehehe, I’m twenty-eight now. That means two new ones waiting for me!”
She flicked her interface open with a quick gesture, scrolling straight to the notifications.
─────────────────────────────
Lv. 20 — Mark of Cain
Cost: 25 Mana
Cooldown: 10 min
Effect:
Mark 1 enemy for 10 s.
? Enemy takes +15% damage from all sources.
Description: A burning stigma declares divine attention—blessing or curse.
─────────────────────────────
“Yeah, this one was expected, but kinda underwhelming.” She said as she looked at her palm. “It will be all right against the boss in the camp, but useless on a large scale fight.”
She nodded to herself, pleased. Even if she was irritated on the outside, in truth, this was one of the more useful skills, just not the right time.
─────────────────────────────
Lv. 20 — Infernal Pulse
Cost: 50 Mana
Cooldown: 10 s
Effect:
? Emit a shockwave of energy in a 5 m radius, dealing (20 % STR) damage and pushing enemies 1m back.
? Restores 2 % HP for each enemy hit.
? If the user is below 20 % HP, the pulse doubles in radius.
─────────────────────────────
“Hmmmm,” she hummed. “This has to be that same shockwave the spirit used to yeet me across the room back then—damage is pretty pitiful with my current STR, honestly, and the knockback’s cute but not exactly game-changing. Really only shines if I get swarmed and need breathing room, or if I’m down bad on health and need the extra radius to suck some life back. Meh. Free skill’s a free skill, I guess.”
She shrugged, already filing it away under “situational but not useless,” and let her mind drift to the pattern she was starting to notice.
“If I’m guessing right, I’m basically yoinking skills straight from the demons, and they all lean on the physical side, which means they are probably gonna demand some actual muscle if I want them to hit worth a damn.” She glanced down at her open stat sheet, especially her free stat points. “Yeah, definitely gonna have to pump STR and AGI soon.”
A soft chime pinged in her interface before she could close it.
[+1kg Grade 5 Materials]
Enochia blinked. “Hmmm? The fuck did that come from?”
She swiped to the map without thinking, flicking through perspectives until she landed on the baby drone’s feed, and there it was, her little drilling unit, happily gnawing away at a cluster of those weird stones, sparks and dust flying while it worked with single-minded enthusiasm.
“What the actual fuck,” she muttered, staring as the drone paused to spit another chunk of ore into its storage hopper. “Did I tell you to do that? I very specifically remember keeping you parked right here with me so you wouldn’t get shredded by random imps the second I looked away. You were supposed to be safe, you little idiot.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Roo. Tell me my creations can’t just… defy orders and go freelance.”
[No, Enochia. Your creations cannot defy direct commands. However, a creation may receive orders from another creation of higher standing in your hierarchy.]
She glanced at Cervain, eyebrow arched. “You send the little guy on a mining expedition while I was snoring?”
Cervain turned toward her, and gave a slow shake.
Enochia exhaled in relief, then froze as Roo chimed in again.
[It is also possible you issued the order yourself while asleep.]
She stared at the floating text like it had personally insulted her mother.
“What—no—come on, Roo, that’s total bullshit. I sleep like a log. A very quiet, very still log. Isn’t that right, Cervain? Back me up here, buddy. Tell him I’m silent as a rock when I’m out.”
Cervain hesitated just long enough for dread to start crawling up her spine, then, with the solemn gravity of a man forced to testify against his queen, shook his head again.
The silence that followed was so complete she could hear the distant hiss of lava somewhere far away.
Enochia felt the sweat prickling along her hairline as memories she’d spent years aggressively suppressing began to resurface in high definition: friends complaining about being kicked awake by flailing limbs, dorm mates threatening to record her “dying walrus impressions,” that one time a neighbor banged on the wall at 3 a.m. screaming about a “screaming goat hooked up to a blender and a concert speaker.”
She had always, always assumed they were exaggerating. Haters. Jealous of her ability to achieve perfect unconsciousness.
But a few people had sworn she was quiet as a mouse. Had those been the liars? Pity compliments? Mercy white lies?
“Oh my god,” she whispered, voice climbing in pitch as her hands rose to clutch her head. “Those people were telling the truth. I actually sound like a possessed chainsaw when I sleep...”
She whipped toward Cervain, eyes wide and slightly wild. “What the hell did I say? Word for word, big guy—give it to me straight. Did I order the drone to go mining? Was I muttering about ore quotas?”
Cervain, simply stood there, unaware how to answer such a question, without being able to speak a single word.
Enochia groaned and flopped backward into the pile again, sending up a fresh white cloud. She lay there for a second, staring up at the cracked ceiling, then barked a short, helpless laugh.
“Whatever. At least the little guy’s getting us materials. Wake me up next time, Cervain—slap me, shake me, draw your sword and poke me gently, I don’t care. Just don’t let me turn into an unconscious middle manager again. And make sure not to follow anything I say while sleeping”
She pushed herself up, dusted off (pointlessly), and rolled her shoulders.
“Now, since I got no notifications from my drones, I guess it’s only logical to go to the camp. I don’t think I can beat them straight on, but with some form of a plan, I think I can manage.”
