Drift Of The Multiverse

Ethan's shield blocked a heavy blow just in time. Pivoting swiftly, his dagger struck out, piercing through the chest of the fallen demon that had lunged at him from the side. The creature let out a guttural snarl before collapsing, and Ethan quickly withdrew his blade, scanning his surroundings and repositioning himself for another potential attack.

"Well done, Ethan. You've made significant progress," Isendra said approvingly, her tone calm but with a note of genuine praise.

It had been over half a day since they left Camp Rouge. Unlike his earlier cautious self, who avoided danger whenever possible, Ethan was now actively seeking out dark creatures and eliminating any he came across.

In that time, their group had taken down over a dozen Quill Rats, at least two dozen zombies, and an uncountable number of Fallens.

As they ventured farther from the camp, the encounters became increasingly difficult. The dark creatures were not only more numerous, but their strength and coordination also seemed to grow.

This latest encounter was no exception, a small tribe of Fallens, numbering in the dozens, had been discovered. Among them were at least three Fallen Shamans, whose fireballs and resurrection spells made them particularly troublesome.

Isendra and Xul worked efficiently, focusing first on eliminating the Shamans. Without their support, the lesser demons would fall apart. Meanwhile, the remaining soldiers were carefully left for Ethan to handle, giving him the opportunity to gain valuable combat experience.

For two seasoned mages like Isendra and Xul, eliminating a group of Fallens, even with their shamans posed no real challenge. However, their primary concern was ensuring Ethan's safety.

To their surprise, Ethan had announced his intention to join them in the fight against the dark creatures in the Den of Evil, a decision neither of them objected to.

"All who are determined to fight against the darkness are our allies," Xul had said when Ethan revealed his plan.

Strength was not a prerequisite in their eyes. Even though Ethan was still relatively weak, both mages were willing to guide and support him, knowing that he had the potential to grow.

Along the way, they took every opportunity to train him. Whenever they encountered scattered zombies or lone creatures, Ethan was tasked with handling them on his own. When they ran into larger groups, Isendra and Xul would deliberately leave some weaker enemies for him to fight, carefully observing his progress.

This time was no different. After the pair eliminated the most dangerous Shamans, they intentionally let a few Fallen Demons slip past them to attack Ethan. It wasn't a random test; they were confident he could handle it.

By now, both mages had a clear understanding of Ethan's abilities. They also had the insight of trained spellcasters who were intimately familiar with the relationship between spiritual power and physical performance.

As Ethan's mental strength had increased, so too had his reaction time. In the heat of battle, his heightened focus made enemy movements appear almost sluggish, giving him a critical advantage in combat.

This mental sharpness was something even Rathma priests relied on heavily when first learning melee combat. With enhanced awareness and quick thinking, they could anticipate their opponent's movements and formulate strategies in mere moments.

However, mental acuity alone wasn't enough. The body also needed to react quickly enough to capitalize on the advantage.

Ethan was no exception. Fortunately, at seventeen years old, his young body was at the peak of its natural reflexes. While his strength was still developing, his flexibility and reaction speed allowed him to keep pace with his sharpened instincts.

In recent weeks, his growth had been remarkable. He'd gone from barely managing to fend off surprise attacks to actively countering them. Even if the attackers were weak Fallens, the improvement was undeniable.

Fallen were far from harmless. Their physical strength was comparable to that of a strong adult human, and their speed made them particularly dangerous. They could easily outrun heavier or less agile opponents. The fact that Ethan could now face them alone and come out victorious was a testament to how far he had come.

With a final strike, Ethan took down the last of the Fallens. Breathing heavily, he stood in place, his chest rising and falling as he took in the sight of the battlefield.

The air was thick with the foul stench of blood and decay, tinged with the unsettling aura of dark energy. It was far from pleasant, but as Ethan sheathed his dagger and steadied his breathing, he couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction.

"Your progress is faster than I anticipated. It's truly surprising that you have such aptitude. At your age, why haven't you begun the path of a true mage apprentice yet?" Isendra asked, a slight frown of curiosity on her face.

In her experience, a real mage apprentice should have already mastered some basic spells by now. Apprentices are typically able to assist their mentors in preparing for minor magical experiments, marking them as more than just ordinary individuals, they've already stepped into the realm of magic.

Most young apprentices, chosen by accomplished mages, are born with exceptional spiritual power. Their training focuses only on refining that power and, before long, beginning to condense their own magic. For someone Ethan's age to still be at the starting line was, frankly, rare.

"Because I only started learning magic recently," Ethan replied, his voice calm but tinged with a hint of self-reflection.

As he answered, he glanced at the short sword in his hand. It was the same weapon Kashya had given him when he first set out, but it had reached the end of its life. The blade was now jagged and broken, its pointed tip completely gone. Even the hilt, though intact, showed signs of wear.

In its current state, the sword no longer had any practical use. Its blade was so bent and twisted that it couldn't even be sheathed properly. Sentiment aside, the weapon would have to be discarded.

"There's a lot of stuff lying around from the Fallens we killed. Maybe you'll find something more useful," Xul suggested as he gestured toward the scattered remnants of the small camp they had just cleared.

Both Isendra and Xul had no need for replacement weapons. Isendra carried her long staff, which could double as a melee weapon when necessary, while Xul wielded the peculiar dagger that was the hallmark of Rathma priests. The dagger served multiple purposes: close combat, spellcasting, and even ceremonial uses. However, Xul rarely relied on it, preferring instead to conjure a long bone scythe from magic, which complemented his ominous, shadowy demeanor.

Ethan glanced at Xul's scythe and, half-jokingly, asked, "Can't you make me a magical sword or something?"

Xul shook his head, his voice tinged with amusement. "This type of magic requires a constant infusion of my personal magic to maintain its form. It's also imprinted with my spiritual signature, so you wouldn't even be able to wield it."

Acknowledging this, Ethan sighed and began searching the area for a replacement weapon. Most of the fallen demons had been wielding crude wooden clubs or short knives, none of which seemed like an upgrade from his battered sword.

Eventually, he settled for a sturdy-looking wooden stick. "I guess this'll have to do for now," he muttered to himself.

As the group prepared to move forward, with the Den of Evil's entrance now visible in the distance, Isendra suddenly stopped. Her eyes fell on something half-buried in the dirt beside a stone. She bent down and pulled out a metal rod.

"Interesting," she murmured, giving it a few test swings. The weighty hum as it cut through the air suggested it was sturdier than it looked. Moments later, faint sparks of electricity danced across its surface.

"Well, looks like you've got some luck after all," Isendra said with a grin as she handed the rod to Ethan. "Ditch that firewood you're holding. Use this instead."

"What is it?" Ethan asked, inspecting the rod. It was encrusted with dirt and grass, giving it a battered, unimpressive appearance.

Xul stepped closer, examining the object. "If I'm not mistaken, this is the handle of a one-handed warhammer."

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "A warhammer? Where's the hammerhead?"

"It's broken off," Isendra explained. "This is just the handle and the shaft that once connected to the head. But don't let that fool you, it's still magical equipment."

Ethan's eyes lit up as he remembered the electric sparks from earlier. "But without the hammerhead, is it still functional?"

"It is," Isendra replied confidently. "The enchantment on the weapon hasn't been fully destroyed. The core magic is still intact, even if it's not operating at full power."

She then explained how to activate the rod's latent magic using spiritual energy. Ethan followed her instructions, channeling his energy into the rod. Almost immediately, arcs of bright lightning crackled along its surface.

Even Xul, who was standing nearby, took an involuntary step back as the electricity surged. "Impressive," the necromancer muttered. Despite his magical defenses, he could feel a faint tingling sensation where the lightning had brushed against his bone armor.

"So, what kind of magic is imbued in this thing?" Ethan asked, holding the rod gingerly as the lightning gradually subsided.

"It's clearly some form of lightning magic," Xul speculated. "But without the hammerhead, the specific spell it was designed to cast is incomplete. The inscription for shaping and directing the magic was likely on the hammer itself."

While the rod's full potential was lost with its broken head, it still retained enough magic to serve as a viable weapon. Its ability to absorb and store ambient energy meant that Ethan wouldn't need to constantly recharge it, he could simply trigger the stored lightning when needed.

"Isn't this basically an electric baton?"