I walked alongside Bass, and our steps were out of sync. His short, heavy strides contrasted with my longer, lighter ones. "I have been thinking about it, and your settlement still has a lot of stuff left in it. But why didn’t they take all of it?” I asked.

  “I thought you knew with your big brain of yours. They couldn’t because they didn’t have space for it,” he replied with a sneer. “If they had that bag of yours, it might be a different story.”

  “How do you know how good my bag is?” He had seen me placing items into it but hadn’t brought it up yet. As far as I knew, my bag was one of a kind. While I was certain he had never seen anything like it, he could identify weapons and armor enchantments at a glance. I wondered if he could do the same with items.

  "It is unique, for sure. I’ve never seen an item with properties like yours," Bass acknowledged, confirming my suspicions. "While something like that is rare, it wouldn’t be practical on something like a wagon, even if you managed to replicate the enchantment."

  “Why?” The more I learned, the more I realized how much I didn’t know.

  “I forgot you're still green,” Bass began, a hint of patience in his tone. “Everyone knows that enchantments draw more power when linked to a soul. That’s why gear like armor and weapons are so mighty. It also means you can’t just enchant a wall and expect it to hold up like a shield would. If you laid that shield on the ground, walked away, and then dropped a stone on it, the magic wouldn’t hold as strongly as it would when it’s on ya. So, even if you could enchant something big like a wagon, it wouldn’t hold the magic. It’s simply too large to be bound to a normal person’s soul.”

  In many games, the rules on creating enchantments seemed illogical, particularly when considering the relationship between the size of an enchanted object and the magnitude of its effects. For instance, a small ring and a large piece of armor might both have offered a significant health boost by an equal percentage. This uniformity, regardless of the object’s size, often defied logical expectations. The power attributed to enchanted objects was sometimes linked to the quality of the gems involved, but this didn’t fully explain the inconsistencies.

  This raised an intriguing question. If enchanting objects was so beneficial, why hadn’t everything been enchanted? If embedding a few jewels in a ring could significantly increase health, why not cover a breastplate in gems to become nearly invincible? One could even imagine a world where every surface, from chairs to walls, was imbued with healing properties, creating an environment of immense power for those who could afford to enchant on such a scale.

  However, Bass's insights offered a deeper understanding of enchantments. He explained that items in proximity to a person's soul field, such as armor worn directly, were inherently stronger than those that were not, like walls enchanted from afar. If my armor had fire resistance, for instance, and someone tried to counteract this by enchanting nearby walls with fire weakness, my personal enchantments would have prevailed as long as they were not inherently weak.

  This underscored a fundamental balance within the world of enchantments, and it showed they were not as overpowering as they might have seemed. I had previously believed that the key to success lay in enchanting everything in sight. Yet, Bass's explanation clarified that while being well-prepared and having enchanted gear could provide significant advantages, it did not guarantee an overwhelming edge.

  “You’re saying that if I put my bag down and tied a rope to it, it would suddenly weigh more?” I asked, trying to grasp the concept.

  “If one of its powers is reducing weight, then aye, it most certainly would. Leave it too long, and it’ll start getting heavier. Not sure about the space involved, either,” Bass explained. “If you packed it to full capacity and left it alone for a bit, it might even burst open. All enchantments work better the closer they are to you or to someone else. You didn’t actually think that enchantments for armor and weapons could sort out friend from foe, did you?”

  “I actually did. Are you saying that the effects are based on who is closest to the object?” I asked, seeking clarity.

  “Not exactly,” Bass clarified. “If you stab an enemy with the pointy end of a sword, it interacts with their soul, facing resistance based on their Constitution. However, since the sword is within your soul field, it might also be influenced by your own attributes like Strength or Agility.”

  “What if my sword clashes with another sword?”

  “In that case, their Constitution might not come into play, but it would essentially be your Agility and Strength against theirs. This is basic stuff. The main takeaway is that you shouldn’t leave enchanted items unattended if you’re relying on their passive effects. There are general rules, and of course, there are exceptions like soul bound objects, but you can always count on…”

  Bass’s explanation was abruptly cut off by a massive roar that shook the ground beneath us. It sounded as if the earth itself was moving.

  We instinctively crouched lower in the grass, moving as one, hoping to remain unseen. The screaming originated from the nearby forest, its intensity matched by the thunderous stomping that seemed to shake the very ground. With each footfall, heavy with force, vibrations shook the earth, amplifying the fear rising within us. Whatever was approaching was enormous.

  A nagging sensation tugged at the back of my mind, and Rabbit’s voice surfaced, “It’s that thing we heard in the forest when we first entered this world. Remember what they said. Unless provoked, it avoids large groups.” His words offered a brief comfort until he added, “Though, I wouldn’t exactly call us a large group. If it’s willing to attack small packs of dogs or wolves, it would certainly consider us fair game. They were probably referring to full settlements.”

  “You’re not helping,” I shot back, my anxiety spiking once more. The creature’s stomps grew louder, nearing our position. I was almost certain it had heard us, but no one else moved, frozen either by the belief that hiding was our best option or the grim acceptance that we were outmatched and escape was futile.

  Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

  "Shit, it’s actually following you," Rabbit said as the noise grew louder. "Activate your time spell and stay hidden."

  I followed his advice but immediately canceled the spell. The increase in my Time Magic level had made it much stronger. Instead of a mere 1% boost to my relative speed, it was now an 11% increase, making it disorienting. Rabbit could probably adjust without a problem, but I wasn’t a machine. The extra speed would be helpful if we needed to run, but in this moment, I wasn’t ready to test something so new. Instead, I remained still, keeping myself concealed.

  As the creature drew nearer, I glimpsed trees parting above the tall grass, their movement synchronized with the relentless thump, thump, thump of its footsteps.

  Then came a sudden schlick sound. Something large was stepping into the marshland's mud. The creature paused, its motion halting abruptly, before taking a few tentative steps backward.

  I couldn’t see the giant clearly as I was hiding, but the heavy, squelching sounds and the subtle vibrations through the ground conveyed its presence unmistakably. Its foot pulled free from the mud with a loud suck, and it stumbled backward, regaining its balance.

  For a moment, it seemed to circle slowly, perhaps surveying the area. Then, after a tense few seconds, it retraced its steps, heading back the way it came. I finally exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

  We remained motionless for what felt like an eternity, not daring even to scratch our noses, as the sounds of the footsteps gradually receded back to where they had come from.

  “Wow, even that thing thinks this place sucks,” Rabbit quipped in my head. “No? Not good enough? Alright, maybe you guys were making too much noise. He just had to come down here and put his foot down.” Rabbit paused for me to laugh, and waited. And then, he waited some more.

  To appease him, I mustered the fakest laugh I could manage internally. “Ha, ha.”

  Rabbit, either oblivious to my sarcasm or choosing to ignore it, cheerfully continued, “I know, I’m awesome. Oh, by the way, you have a new notification.”

  Congratulations. You have learned Sneak Level 1. “Property rights? Who needs those?”

  Bonus:

  You are considerably harder to detect by those who don’t have comparable detection levels to your sneak level.

  The ability to learn skills was invaluable. I couldn’t believe I used to wander around aimlessly, devoid of any skills. It would be even better if I could earn Skill points for non-professional skills, but I supposed I’d get there eventually. Still, it felt like a waste of points.

  Silent as ghosts, our group moved away from the ominous forest and toward the edge of the marshland. After some distance, I activated my Time Spell once again, and everything shifted. Nothing I did had changed since I was still moving at normal speed relative to myself, but there were some oddities.

  The first thing I noticed was gravity itself. It felt… off. Each time I lifted my foot, it seemed to take longer than usual to fall back down, as if the force pulling me to the ground had weakened. No, that wasn’t right. Gravity itself didn’t change, but it no longer acted as a constant. Holding a rock would still weigh the same. But dropping it, it would fall more slowly, at least from my perspective.

  To me, my legs moved normally, but the world lagged. The timing between lifting my foot and it hitting the ground was all wrong, making my steps feel awkward and delayed. Each time I set my foot down, it felt as if the earth took too long to catch up, almost like I was walking on some invisible cushion. It threw off my balance. I stumbled, my boot catching the edge of a patch of reeds, and nearly toppled face-first into the marsh. My heart raced as I fought to stay upright, my arms flailing to regain balance just in time.

  “I’m okay. I just tripped,” I said, noticing the weird looks on everyone’s faces.

  That’s when their replies hit me. Their voices were slightly drawn out, as though stretched thin. They sounded deeper than before, and I wasn’t quite sure why. At 11%, the changes weren’t drastic, but they were noticeable. Adjusting to this would take some time.

  Forty minutes later, the caravan came into view, and I finally felt like my movements were no longer strange. The sprawling mass of wagons was guarded by more armed sentinels than I expected.

  The air was heavy with the scents of sweat and damp earth, and the tension among our group grew more palpable as we drew closer. I counted no less than 30 to 40 guards, clearly outnumbered by the Dwarves at a ratio of four to one.

  The wagons, at the heart of the caravan, were surrounded by prisoners held captive behind them. The Dwarves' positioning was unclear, but they might have been stationed there in case the carts became mired. The hum of distant voices and the clatter of wagons reached our ears, but from our far-off position, the words melded into an indistinct murmur. Regardless, the slow pace of the procession gave us ample time to observe and plan.

  “There is no way we can take this group,” Jack whispered. “I’ll help if you wish, but it would mean death to us all.”

  Jack's perspective always seemed a bit transactional to me, as if he felt compelled to balance out every favor as though keeping score. I found it odd, as life wasn't about tallying who owed whom. Helping each other should be simple, motivated by doing what was right, not by a desire to even out some imaginary scale.

  “Jack, you don’t owe me anything. Plus, you’re right. It’s suicide to go out there,” I whispered back.

  “Well, I think if we freed my people, we would stand a chance,” Bass countered, his voice carrying a mix of hope and desperation. He gestured toward the captives, their numbers far exceeding my initial estimate. There were about a hundred chained adults, many cradling children who were thankfully unshackled. Unfortunately, even if we could somehow free all the adults, none of them were armed or armored.

  “Bass, there's no way to get those chains off. They’re shackled in groups of four, making it impossible to free everyone at once. And without weapons, what could they possibly do?” I replied, my tone cold yet pragmatic. “Let's be realistic. Any attempt to free them under these conditions would likely result in more casualties among your people."

  “Better dead than alone or a slave,” Bass muttered, his voice barely audible. He was about to stand when Jack put his hand on his shoulder and firmly pushed him back down. “Let me go, you overgrown man.” The word 'man' was clearly an insult in his eyes, given the tone he used.

  “Calm down. Even if you’re rushing to your death, now isn’t the time to act,” Jack replied calmly. “It would be best if you waited until you have the greatest advantage.”

  “Aye, that’s true. What were ye thinking?” Bass conceded, his frustration subsiding slightly.

  Jack pointed toward the landscape. “You see those fissures? Some are just slopes you can walk down, but others are holes in the ground. If you surprise them, you might manage to knock a group of your people down to their deaths, or at least drag one or two enemies into the fissures with you,” Jack said sagely, pointing at the cracks.

  “Aye, that’d be a good way to die. If I plan it right, I might manage to take out two or three. One with my war hammer and two down the hole. I was thinking, with surprise on my side, I could kill at least one beyond the healers’ help, but with your plan, I reckon I can make it two at the very least. Thank you all for your support,” Bass said, preparing to stand.

  This time, it wasn’t Jack who restrained him. I reached out instead. My hand on the Dwarf’s shoulder was firm but not forceful. He could break free anytime he wanted.

  “What now? You want a kiss for all your help? Because it ain’t happening,” Bass replied with sass.

  “No, Jack gave me an idea,” I replied, a manic grin spreading across my face. “It’s not a good one. It’s crazy, verging on suicidal, but I’ll need more information first.”

  “Oh no, not again,” Sana groaned, a perfect counterpoint to my reckless optimism.