Dillion woke slowly, the scent of tea and warm wood heavy in the air.
He was lying on a couch — soft, deep, and far too comfortable to be part of the Outpost’s common rooms. A fire crackled nearby, casting gold across the stone walls. Everything was quiet, still, clean.
He sat up, blinking through the faint ache in his chest. His shield was resting by the door.
A low table sat in front of him. On it, neatly arranged atop a cloth, were four Soul Gems.
Two pulsed a dull red. One shimmered green. The last glowed faintly black, like a stone half-swallowed by shadow.
Dillion’s breath caught.
He didn’t need to ask. He knew.
They were all that remained of Ren, Lysa, Tarn, and Juno.
A flicker of movement drew his eye. Someone sat across the room near the hearth — cross-legged on a cushion, cloak folded around her, red hair spilling over one shoulder like silk.
The masked girl.
Only this time, her mask lay beside her on the floor.
She didn’t look up.
"You’re awake," she said simply.
Dillion swallowed hard. “Where… am I?”
“A private wing in the Outpost. I didn’t think you’d wake so soon.” She reached for a small kettle and poured something steaming into a mug, then slid it gently across the table toward him.
“I found you near the grove. You were unconscious.”
“You—” His voice cracked. “You killed it. Gnarlfang.”
She didn’t answer immediately. “It had claimed too many fragments. It would’ve drawn worse things if left alive.”
Dillion looked back at the Soul Gems, his voice barely a whisper. “I couldn’t save them.”
“No one expected you to.”
“But you did.”
Silence.
He studied her again. Without the mask, she looked younger than he expected — maybe his age. Graceful, calm, but with something in her eyes that made him hesitate. Not cold, but distant. Like someone constantly looking past the horizon.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“I’m a Soul Warden,” she said simply, still watching the fire.
Dillion blinked. The words meant little to him. He’d heard the term before — muttered in bars or whispered in scroll forums — but it never seemed real.
“I don’t know what that means,” he admitted.
“Good.” She looked at him then, finally. Her eyes were a strange color — not blue, not green, not gray. “It’s better that way.”
Her cloak shifted slightly, and for the first time, he noticed something floating just above her chest.
A glowing white Soul Gem, small and elegant, suspended in the air like a necklace of pure light.
It hummed softly. Alive.
Dillion stared. “That’s…”
“White,” she said. “I’ve never met another with one.”
He hesitated. “That’s rare, right?”
She nodded once. “Very.”
The gem dimmed a little, as if sensing the weight of the conversation.
“You don’t look like someone from Sora,” he said.
She smiled faintly. “That’s because I’m not.”
Dillion blinked. “Wait… you’re from Earth?”
“Yes.” She didn’t elaborate. “And no, I don’t have answers. At least not the ones you’d understand yet.”
He wanted to press, but her expression told him she wouldn’t say more.
Instead, she stood and walked to the table, picking up her mask with quiet fingers.
“You should rest,” she said. “You won’t stay hidden long.”
“Why help me?” he asked again.
She paused near the door.
“I haven’t decided if I was helping you,” she said softly. “Sometimes, I just… don’t want people to die.”
Then the mask slipped back into place, and she was gone.
Dillion stared at the door long after it closed.
At the fire.
At the gems.
At the flickering shadow of his reflection in the window glass.
He was still alive.
But something inside him had changed.
Dillion stepped out into the main hall of the Stillgrove Outpost, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the busy light of day.
Adventurers bustled past him — some bloodied, some laughing, others staring with wide eyes at newly acquired loot. But for the first time, they didn’t look at him like a nobody. Some gave him a respectful glance. A nod.
He made his way to the front clerk’s counter.
The same clerk from before — a gruff man with patchy facial hair and a long scar over his collarbone — looked up from a ledger, did a double take, then let out a low whistle.
“Well damn,” the clerk said. “Didn’t expect to see you walking around already.”
Dillion gave a hesitant smile. “Neither did I.”
The clerk leaned forward, lowering his voice slightly. “You survived a Named Beast, kid. Even seasoned Red Mark teams get flattened by those things. That kind of survival?” He tapped the counter. “It changes people.”
Dillion blinked. “Changes how?”
“Check your Soul Gem,” the clerk said. “You’ll see.”
Still unsure, Dillion raised his hand. His Soul Mark pulsed faintly on his palm, and in a flash of glowing blue light, his Soul Gem hovered above it — crystalline, brilliant, alive.
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He felt it before he saw it.
A surge of energy. Denser. Stronger. Different.
The stats flickered across his field of vision:
Name: Dillion Rogers
Soul Mark: Blue
Level: 5
Skills:
-
Shield Guard (Rank 1) 0/10
-
Shield Bash (Rank 1) 0/10
-
Dexterity (Rank 1) 0/10
-
Overwhelming Strength (Rank 2) 0/20
Spells:
-
Water Manipulation (Rank 0) (Level 1)
-
Swift Boots (Rank 1) (Level 3)
Dillion staggered back slightly. “How…?”
Overwhelming Strength- The User is granted superhuman strength.
“Growth through battle,” the clerk said, nodding. “Especially the kind where you barely walk away.”
Still stunned, Dillion lowered the Soul Gem. “I—I had to store four Soul Fragments after the fight. From the others. I didn’t know where else to keep them.”
The clerk's expression shifted — a flicker of respect, and something more reserved. “You put them in your Field Guide?”
Dillion nodded. “That’s what it’s for, right?”
“Technically, yeah.” He paused. “Player Soul Gems? They’re valuable. Each one’s worth at least a Medium Soul Gem, sometimes more depending on resonance. You held onto four. That’s not a small deal.”
Dillion said nothing. The truth of it felt heavy.
The clerk reached beneath the counter and pulled out a small metal case. He slid it forward.
“Masked girl left this for you.”
Inside were five glowing Medium Soul Gems, neatly slotted in velvet, and beneath them — a single Large Soul Gem, shining with deep, silver-blue light.
“She said it was your share,” the clerk added. “For the Gnarlfang. She could’ve kept it all, but she didn’t.”
Dillion stared at the gems.
A king’s ransom in the world of beginners. Enough to buy gear, scrolls, time.
And suddenly, he felt the weight of it all — not just in the pouch, but in the air.
He had stepped into something far bigger than a mouse hunt.
Dillion stood in silence as the clerk packed the gems into a small reinforced pouch and handed it over with a half-nod.
“Don’t let it burn a hole in your soul,” the clerk muttered. “We’ve seen more than a few rookies come into wealth and lose their damn minds trying to chase more.”
Dillion accepted the pouch, still not quite believing the weight of it in his hand. “I… wasn’t even supposed to be out there.”
“No one ever is,” the clerk said. “But now you’re here.”
He paused, tapping his pen against the ledger thoughtfully. “Most adventurers spend months trying to get their hands on one Medium Soul Gem. You’ve got five. And a Large. That kind of start? People are going to notice.”
“Is that bad?”
“Depends who notices,” the clerk said with a crooked grin. “But if I were you, I’d buy some proper gear. Maybe a weapon that isn’t bolted to your back like a dinner plate.”
Dillion chuckled lightly, nerves still high. “Thanks for… not treating me like a joke this time.”
The clerk shrugged. “You survived a Named Beast. That earns you something. Just don’t get cocky.”
Dillion gave a nod and turned to leave.
He passed by the wall of quest boards — fluttering papers, rotating crystal panels, and glowing posters shouting about rare bounties and party recruitment. He paused for a second, tempted to grab another.
But not yet.
Not today.
He had a room. A night already paid for. And the promise of silence.
He took the stairs slowly, his legs still sore, his mind racing.
At the top, the Outpost’s upper level opened into quieter halls. The sun had just begun to set, warm orange light spilling through the narrow windows.
Dillion reached his door and stepped inside.
The same fire was still going in the hearth.
Cold Tea on the table.
He sat on the edge of the bed, peeling off his boots, his tunic, and reaching for the fresh clothes left for him — simple, soft, and comfortable.
After a long pause, he turned down the lantern, crawled beneath the blanket, and held his Soul Gem in his hand one last time.
It pulsed faintly.
Quiet.
Steady.
Alive.
He sat up and put his Cloths back on, he couldn't sleep after the day he had. "I need to get stronger". Dillon paused "I don't think I would have ever said those words"
Dillion stood and walked out his room headed with one place in mind.
Stillgrove Village – Edge of Town
Zren’s Soul Shop was as crooked and unpredictable as ever. The wood creaked, and strange humming sounds echoed from deeper rooms. When Dillion opened the door, a spoon flew past his head and lodged into a pumpkin.
“Don’t mind the noise!” Zren’s voice came from under a table. “Just warding off a ghost or two.”
Dillion chuckled. “I need a weapon.”
Zren’s head popped up — wild hair like a storm cloud, eyes sharper than they should’ve been for someone so odd.
“About time,” he grinned, standing. “What’s your flavor? Big and showy? Light and stabby?”
Dillion pointed toward a short, slightly curved knife hanging behind the counter. It was simple — dark hilt, steel blade etched faintly with old markings.
“That one.”
Zren raised a brow. “Shield and knife, huh? Defensive type with bite. I like it.”
Zren stood behind the counter eating something green and fuzzy from a bowl that may have once been used in battle.
He reached up, took the knife down with a little flourish, and set it gently on the counter.
“One Medium Soul Gem,” Zren said, holding out his hand.
Dillion didn’t hesitate. He reached into his pouch and handed it over. The gem glowed softly as Zren pocketed it with a grin.
“But,” the old man added, holding up a crooked finger, “that blade’s no good out the box. It’s blank. You want it to live? You’ll need to infuse it.”
Dillion frowned. “Infuse?”
Zren leaned in. “Push some Soul into it. It’ll attune to you, wake up proper. Needs energy. Power.”
Dillion paused… then reached into his Field Guide. Four faintly glowing Player Soul Gems sat in the stasis pocket, untouched since the grove.
He pulled them out, laying them on the counter.
Zren raised an eyebrow. “Ahhh. You held on to those.”
“Will they work?”
“More than enough,” Zren said. “They’re personal. Stronger than raw gems.”
Dillion placed one hand on the knife, the other on the Soul Gems.
The room darkened slightly.
A pulse of energy spread outward as the gems dissolved into vapor, threads of glowing color wrapping around the knife’s hilt and blade. The metal shimmered — not visibly changing, but humming with quiet power.
Zren let out a low whistle. “That’ll do. You’ve got a real weapon now, boy.”
The blade didn’t look enchanted — no glowing runes, no crackling sparks — but it felt different. Alive. Attuned.
Then Dillion pulled out the Large Soul Gem.
Zren blinked. “Has he continued to eat his odd fruit”
Dillion nodded. “I want to be ready.”
The Large Gem pulsed with brilliant light. As Dillion pressed it to his Soul Gem, he felt a rush of energy surge through him — his heart raced, his hands trembled, and in the blink of an eye, the massive gem melted into his own.
+100 Soul Points.
Dillion felt his Soul Gem Resonate, the feeling that he had the potential to grow overwhelmed him
Dillion Sat down in an empty chair as Zren had dozed off slightly snoring
He held up his hand and summoned his Soul Gem once more. The glowing crystal floated above his palm, pulsing steadily in rhythm with his heartbeat.
But this time… something had changed.
Three distinct sections shimmered into view:
Name: Dillion Rogers
Soul Mark: Blue
Level: 5
Skills:
-
Shield Guard (Rank 1) 0/10
-
Shield Bash (Rank 1) 0/10
-
Dexterity (Rank 1) 0/10
-
Overwhelming Strength (Rank 2) 0/20
-
Weak Point (Rank 3) – Highlights a red dot on an enemy indicating a vulnerable area.
Spells:
-
Water Manipulation (Rank 0) (Level 1)
-
Swift Boots (Rank 1) (Level 3)
Enchantments:
-
Fog (Level 1) – Casts a mist in a small radius around the user, reducing enemy visibility and aim. Gained from infused weapon.
He stared at the new addition.
Enchantments — he hadn’t seen that section before. The fog spell wasn’t flashy, but it could buy him time… or an escape. More importantly, it had come from his weapon.
Then there was Weak Point.
The moment he read the description, a vivid memory surged — Gnarlfang’s massive form, the chaos, the red dot that had shimmered briefly on its neck just before it lunged.
It hadn’t been his imagination.
His Soul Mark had remembered.
With his breath steady, Dillion focused on the skill grid again.
He had 100 Soul Points to distribute from the Large Soul Gem.
He pressed his fingers to the crystal and whispered, “Apply.”
The Soul Gem flared.
+10 Shield Guard (Rank 1) → (Rank 2)10/10 → 0/20
+10 Shield Bash (Rank 1) → (Rank 2) 10/10→ 0/20
+10 Shield Bash (Rank 1) → (Rank 2) 10/10→ 0/20
Name: Dillion Rogers
Soul Mark: Blue
Level: 2
Skills:
-
Shield Guard (Rank 2) 0/20
-
Shield Bash (Rank 2) 0/20
-
Dexterity (Rank 2) 0/20
-
Overwhelming Strength (Rank 2) 0/10
-
Weak Point (Rank 3) — Highlights a red dot on an enemy indicating a vulnerable area.
Spells:
-
Water Manipulation (Rank 0) (Level 1)
-
Swift Boots (Rank 1) (Level 3)
Enchantments:
-
Fog (Level 1) — Casts a mist in a small radius around the user, reducing enemy visibility and aim. (Granted by knife)
Soul Points Remaining: 70
Energy rushed through his body. His shield — tucked beside the bed — glowed faintly, responding to his growth.
He exhaled slowly.
He was still just a beginner in many ways.
But now?
Now he had the tools.
And for the first time He was in control of his life for the first time
He felt dangerous.