I stepped forward as the Bramblehog barreled toward us. Golden-green vines coiled around my body, intertwining with the glow of Rejuvenation, providing extra layers of protection. It wasn’t perfect, but it gave me just enough confidence to stand my ground.

  “I can’t maintain it for long!” Pica shouted from behind. “My Mana’s almost drained!”

  Great, more bad news.

  I steadied my trembling arms. With the Treant gone and Alwen still injured, I had no choice but to take the front line. Too bad Bramblehog had high fire resistance. That option was off the table.

  The creature thundered closer, tusks foaming, eyes wild with fury. Windstride surged through my legs, and the world slowed. I darted aside, seized its left tusk, and wrenched hard, trying to throw its momentum off balance.

  For a brief, exhilarating moment, I thought I had it.

  Then the impact hit like a landslide. My ribs screamed.

  The beast skidded sideways, dragging me with it before its weight crashed down on top of me. Its bristling hide slammed into my chest, and the quills punched through my armor like knives.

  “You filthy pig!” I snarled as pain flared down my arm, the one still clutching its tusk. Something cracked. Probably a bone.

  The Bramblehog thrashed, trying to rise. Each movement drove the quills deeper, spreading fresh waves of agony.

  Luckily, pain and I were old friends.

  Gritting my teeth, I ignored the searing sting and lunged for its right ear, trying to pin it down.

  My arm shook.

  I didn’t have the strength.

  “This damned weak body,” I muttered in frustration.

  With a furious grunt, the beast shoved upward, ripping free and tearing through my flesh. Blood splattered across its left flank, streaking the quills crimson.

  Without Living Armor and Rejuvenation, I’d already be dead.

  Shaking, I pulled the enchanted gourd from my pouch. “Take a bath, you stinking beast,” I hissed, voice ragged. My hands trembled as I splashed the water across its body. My vision blurred. My limbs barely obeyed. Somehow, I managed to roll away, creating just enough distance between us.

  Now it was up to them.

  Alwen, finally back on his feet, raised his staff and unleashed a Mana shot imbued with Overload.

  The Bramblehog shrieked as lightning crackled through its soaked hide, freezing mid-charge. The water amplified the strike’s power.

  Pica deactivated the Living Armor shielding me, then joined the assault. Thanks to Alwen’s Tether linking them, her strike carried the same Overload effect.

  The blast slammed straight into the creature’s face, sending it crashing down once more.

  “Eryndor was right,” Pica panted, watching the smoke rise from its body. “It is weak against lightning.”

  “Don’t stop,” Alwen ordered, his tone unusually sharp as he unleashed another blast.

  Pica obeyed, adding her own magic to the barrage. The Bramblehog screamed, writhing under the relentless assault.

  Then a deep vibration rolled through the ground beneath us.

  The earth in front of the Bramblehog heaved violently. Dust exploded outward as a massive boulder tore free from the soil, rising between us and the creature like a living wall.

  “I told you to subdue it, not kill it,” came Vallen’s cool, cutting voice as she approached my battered body on the ground.

  “B-but if it wakes up again, Eryndor’s in danger!” Alwen protested, pointing at me, still bleeding and barely conscious.

  “I understand your concern,” Vallen said evenly, kneeling beside me. “But it can’t fight anymore. Look.”

  The boulder crumbled away, revealing the Bramblehog’s limp form. Its breathing was shallow, eyes half-lidded. It was done.

  “We’re sorry,” Pica murmured, her voice small and trembling. “We didn’t mean to go that far.”

  “It’s fine,” Vallen replied, uncorking a small vial. “What matters is that no one’s fatally hurt.” She poured the potion onto my wounds, and warmth spread through my body. The pain dulled, the cuts sealed, and even my fractured arm knit itself back together, mostly.

  That definitely wasn’t a low-rank healing potion.

  “So…” I croaked weakly, forcing a grin. “Does this mean we get the prize?”

  Vallen sighed and flicked my forehead. “Is that really what you’re thinking about right now?” she said, though her lips twitched with amusement. “Yes, you’re the fastest team. And clever, too. Nice touch with the water.”

  She stood and clapped her hands once. The Bramblehog stirred, groaning as it got back on its feet, then limped obediently to her side.

  “Good work, all of you,” Vallen said, her tone softening. “As your reward, you may each choose a potion from my collection later. For now, rest. You’ve earned it.”

  With that, she turned and walked off to oversee the other teams, her cloak fluttering behind her like the calm after a storm.

  ***

  We regrouped once every team had subdued the Bramblehog and recovered from the ordeal.

  Well, technically, only two teams had actually managed to defeat it. Vallen had to intervene to save Callen’s group after their fight went horribly wrong. Sable was badly injured, and the rest didn’t look much better. Their faces were so utterly defeated that even Alton’s team didn’t have the heart to tease them.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “The Bramblehog is highly aggressive and its attacks are dangerous,” Vallen began, standing before us with her usual calm authority. “But underneath that, its defenses are weak. Its magic resistance is low, and it’s especially vulnerable to lightning.”

  She swept her gaze across the teams. “As I taught you, every monster inside the Tower has its own traits and weaknesses. Analyze them carefully if you want to survive.”

  “Yes, Instructor,” Alton said, sounding just a little too smug. “I took detailed notes during yesterday’s lecture. I’ll share them with everyone.”

  Vallen gave him a short nod, no praise, no scolding. Callen and Sable, however, shot daggers at Alton with their eyes.

  “Pica,” Vallen continued, “you need to work on your focus. With better concentration, you’ll be able to maintain Living Armor while multitasking.”

  Pica nodded quickly, cheeks flushed.

  “Alton and Riven, don’t use your disabling spells at the same time. Alternate them to keep your target immobilized longer.”

  Then her sharp eyes landed on me.

  “And you, Eryndor,” she said in a tone that cut like steel. “Don’t be reckless. You’re lucky that your injury wasn’t fatal. Keep your distance instead of charging headfirst.”

  I wasn’t being reckless. I just didn’t have any other choice. But I kept my mouth shut and nodded.

  When Vallen finally finished listing everyone’s mistakes and offering advice, she dismissed us to prepare for tomorrow. Pica stayed behind to refine her Mana control, while Alwen set out to hunt for potion ingredients.

  Sable and Callen asked for sparring with Vallen, and the others poured over monster notes, debating strategies for the upcoming battle.

  As for me, I had a different goal in mind.

  The Stone Circle Archive.

  ***

  During my time in this world, I had realized my greatest obstacle: the illusion of knowledge.

  All those hours I’d spent playing Dreadspire had given me confidence, even courage.

  But they’d also made me afraid. Insecure.

  What if this reality doesn’t play by the same rules?

  That was exactly why I was here.

  Before me stood a ring of colossal standing stones, each carved with living runes that pulsed faintly with light. There were seven in total, each etched with a different symbol, glowing in hues that shifted like whispers of color.

  I stepped toward the center, where a narrow staircase spiraled down into the earth.

  How did they even build this? I wondered, tracing my fingers along the rough stone as I descended. The deeper I went, the dimmer it became, save for the faint glow of crystals embedded along the walls. Vines crawled across the stone like veins of a sleeping giant.

  The stairs ended in a vast underground chamber lined with shelves. Bark-bound tomes filled every inch, alongside scrolls woven from pressed leaves and threads of silver sap. The air was thick and still, heavy with a sacred silence.

  I should’ve been unnerved. I was. But curiosity had already claimed me.

  I began tracing my fingers along the nearest shelf, admiring the strange mix of magic and craftsmanship.

  “What are you looking for?”

  A soft, slow voice echoed behind me. “Is this your first time here?”

  The sound was barely more than a whisper, yet it sent a chill crawling up my spine. I turned so fast I nearly tripped over my own boots. The voice came from behind a desk cluttered with thick tomes and engraved tablets.

  “Was it that obvious?” I asked, trying but failing to sound composed.

  Behind the stack sat a woman with hair as white as snow and skin just as pale. Her face looked strangely young, despite her huge antlers. Her jaw was sharp, her nose perfectly straight, and her eyes... catlike, half-lidded with indifference.

  “If by obvious you mean wandering around with your mouth open, then yes,” she said in a dragging tone, as if speaking were an obligation rather than a choice.

  “Apologies if I looked... well, awestruck,” I said, glancing around again. “This place is incredible.”

  “Yes,” she said flatly. “Even I never grow tired of its beauty.” Her face, utterly blank, suggested otherwise.

  “Wait,” I asked. “Are you... the Keeper?”

  The Circle Keeper, if this world worked anything like Dreadspire, was a druid chosen to guard the Stone Circle Archive. Venerable, wise, and typically... very old.

  “Why?” she asked, one brow rising lazily. “You doubt me?”

  Her lethargic cadence was infectious. I could almost feel my energy draining just listening to her.

  “Of course not,” I said quickly. “Just making sure. I’m Eryndor Leafshade.” I gave a small bow, the traditional druid greeting.

  “Leafshade, huh.” She said it as if tasting a flavor she wasn’t sure about. “I’m Myr. So, what brings you here?”

  “Like all fools do,” I replied. “Searching for knowledge. And if you’re feeling generous, Myr, I’d like to find records about Tower’s First Floor.”

  I knew exactly where they were, but I needed to confirm her identity.

  “Aisle six, section one, shelf four,” she said without hesitation, though still in that slow, deliberate tone, as if every word had to fight through a layer of fog.

  “And what about druid history and famous figures?” I pressed.

  She sighed long and loud, the kind of sigh that made me feel guilty just for existing. “Aisle two, section two, top shelf,” she muttered, barely glancing up. She knew this place by heart.

  So she really was the Circle Keeper.

  “Okay, thanks, Myr,” I said, giving her a small nod before heading toward the aisles she’d named.

  Dust swirled like pale mist as I stepped deeper into the library. Row after row of shelves rose like pillars, each marked with large numbers and short inscriptions. Somehow, I could read it, each word felt familiar, as if remembered from another life.

  I moved through the aisles, past the First Floor section, until I reached the one marked by a large, weathered nine.

  I glanced back, checking my surroundings before stepping in.

  The bottom shelf caught my eye. It was nearly empty, with only three tomes sitting there, cracked and dark, their spines scarred by time.

  The Mirror Soul: A Study on Reflected Existence

  Corpus Obscura

  The Atlas of Forgotten Door

  I reached for the thinnest one, the lightest, and somehow the most inviting.

  “Curious choice,” came a voice behind me . Soft, slow, and unhurried.

  I froze. The tone was calm, but something in it scraped against my nerves like a blade against glass.

  “I was just... browsing,” I managed, glancing over my shoulder.

  Myr stood there, expressionless.

  How the hell did she even get here? I hadn’t heard a single footstep.

  “Most who wander in here don’t begin with ancient esoteric studies,” she said. Her words hung in the air, light as cobwebs, but heavy with meaning.

  I smiled, or tried to. “Then perhaps I’m not like most druids.”

  Her lips curved, though whether it was amusement or warning, I couldn’t tell.

  “Don’t waste your time,” she murmured. “No one understands that book.”

  “I won’t know until I try, right?” I shot back, keeping my tone even. “I’m not breaking any rules, am I?”

  “You can read it,” she replied. “Just make sure you put it back.”

  “Perfect. Then I’ll just check out a few more sections. Can I go now?” I asked, half-hoping she’d say yes.

  She tilted her head, eyes unreadable. “Sure.”

  And just like that, she turned and drifted away between the shelves.

  I didn’t wait to question my luck. I headed in the opposite direction, moving as quietly and quickly as I could.

  After a few steps, I risked a glance back.

  She had stopped.

  Not moving, just standing there as if she knew I was looking.

  I turned away fast and picked up my pace.

  Myr the Circle Keeper.

  Something told me I hadn’t seen the last of her.

  and Myr’s vibes, then congrats. You’re officially part of the party now.