Light Bringer: New World[LitRPG, Fantasy, a very crazy idea]

The circular boiler hatch was sealed behind double layers of vulcanized tarp, thirty screw-down clamps locked tight over the corners of the iron frame with steel cables crossed in an X across the interior. Not a single slit of daylight slipped into the cylinder, and no sound beyond the muffled thud of distant pistons breached the heavy barrier.

Dante sat atop the pine pallet with his legs stretched out, the hand-crank dynamo lantern resting beside his left knee.

He had just finished totaling the weight of the salvaged copper cores when a dry click echoed at the base of his skull.

It was not the familiar prompt for damage or Mana regeneration. It chimed like a clear bell, followed by a ripple racing down his spine that made the basilisk bone plate along his back warm for half a second.

[Level 20 Milestone Consolidated in Soul Link.]

[Tier 2 Development Lock removed.]

[Tab 05 Unlocked: Skill Tree.]

[Skill Points available for distribution: 5 SP.]

Dante froze with his pen in the air.

His gray eyes locked onto the silver lettering scrolling into focus at a steady clip.

Skill tree.

He glanced to his side.

Maria lay face-down across her air mattress, snoring softly with her cheek squashed into the burlap pillow. Her torch-burned arm stretched out to the side, coated in a dark layer of salamander salve, her heavy breathing lifting and dropping her broad back in an easy cadence. She had slept for less than two hours of her six-hour watch.

Dante set the notebook on the pallet, rose to his feet, and crossed the three paces to the mattress.

He nudged her uninjured shoulder with his fingertips.

”Maria.”

She let out a raspy grunt and rolled her head to the other side, hauling the cotton blanket up to her ear.

”Dante... if this isn’t a golem tearing through the hatch... I’m chucking you down the steam exhaust...” Her voice came out slurred, thick with heavy sleep.

”The skill tree unlocked.”

Silence hung inside the boiler for precisely one second.

Maria stopped breathing. Her eyelids snapped open, wide brown eyes staring straight at the curved iron plating of the wall.

She bolted upright on the mattress so violently that the heavy rubber grooved and creaked beneath her two-hundred-pound weight, kicking the blanket to the floor in one sharp motion.

”Bullshit,” she said, her voice still rough, but wide awake.

”Open the fifth tab,” Dante pointed to the empty space before her face.

Maria didn’t hesitate. She summoned her mental interface as fast as her twelve Intelligence allowed.

The pale silver glow of the screen lit up her features in the boiler’s gloom.

[Sentinel Development Tree (Tier 2).]

[Available Skill Points: 5 SP.]

[Three Primary Branches Identified:]

[1. Unshakable Bastion (Focus on Shock Defense and Passive Resilience).]

[2. Concussive Rupture (Focus on Mass Damage and Armor Fracture).]

[3. Offensive Intervention (Focus on Gap Closing and Crowd Control).]

Maria threw her head back and barked out a laugh.

She had spent her childhood in dingy internet cafés and arcade dens down the street, pumping hard-earned coins into pirated action games on old consoles while her brother slept off afternoons at home. She knew down to the bone how talent trees worked: progression nodes, banked points, branching gates, and specializations that completely revolutionized a build.

”Five points,” she ran her tongue over her dry lips, eyes blazing as she scanned every line across the three branches. ”I have five whole points to burn.”

”I have five as well,” Dante said, sitting back down onto the pine pallet and pulling his own window forward. ”Don’t spend them like an idiot. We need synergy. My job is to keep you breathing and dictate the battlefield. Your job is to crush whatever I pin down.”

”I know what to do with my points, bighead,” she fired back without peeling her gaze off the second tree. ”I didn’t spend two weeks choking down cold sardines to spec into a turtle shell. I already have thirty-two Constitution and a hundred and sixty hit points. Nobody puts me on the ground in one hit. I want raw destruction.”

Dante studied his own tree.

The Pact Summoner class had unlocked far more esoteric branches than Maria’s. His options split into: Ether Binding, Containment Geometry, and Spatial Distortion.

Stolen from NovelPhoenix, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

He skimmed the distortion choices.

With thirty-four Intelligence and twenty-six Wisdom, his cognitive processing already accommodated spatial fold calculations that once would have taken minutes of manual chalk drafting on the deck.

He locked his focus onto a specific node on the second tier of the Spatial Distortion branch.

[Active Skill: [Forced Transposition - Tier 1].]

[Requirements: Intelligence 30, Wisdom 22, Level 20.]

[Activation Cost: 65 MP.]

[Cast Time: 0.8 seconds.]

[Effect: Targets a medium or smaller entity within a range of up to fifty feet and instantly displaces it through an ether micro-rift to an unoccupied point within three feet of a linked ally.]

[Cooldown: 45 seconds.]

[Unlock Cost: 2 SP.]

Dante read the text three times.

A thin, sharp, clinically satisfied smirk took shape on his lips.

”Maria.”

”What? I’m reading this node that doubles edge cleavage.”

”Look at this one,” he projected the tooltip for [Forced Transposition] directly into their shared link channel.

Maria read the hovering text.

Her eyes dilated slowly, the exact look she got whenever she spotted an untended scrap girder behind Agenor’s lot.

”You...” She looked from him to the screen, then back to him. ”You can take a construct shooting at us from fifty feet away and drop it directly onto the tip of my blade?”

”Right in front of your nose,” Dante confirmed, his gray eyes shining with the mechanical elegance of the combo. ”Within three feet. Facing away or broadside, depending on how I close the fold angle. The target won’t even process what happened before tumbling out of the rift.”

”Take it,” she blurted out immediately, smacking her thigh with a heavy palm. ”Take it right now. That is pure filth. It’s the most dishonest, unfair thing I’ve ever seen on this interface, and we’re using it every single time a monster tries to kite us.”

Dante confirmed the allocation with a mental trigger.

Two of his five points vanished from the tally.

An electric prickle raced down the Mana conduits of his arms, searing the spatial coordinates of [Forced Transposition] directly into the core of his soul. The cognitive calculations required to warp geometry were hardcoded into his motor reflexes.

With the remaining three points, Dante stayed practical.

He allocated two points into the Containment Geometry branch to unlock [Instant Anchor Scribing].

[Passive Skill: [Instant Anchor Scribing - Tier 1].]

[Effect: Allows the projection of a baseline runic containment ring without physical chalk, relying entirely on a direct discharge of 30 MP into the ground.]

His final point went into the foundational node of Ether Binding, unlocking [Spirit Husk Armor], which granted thirty percent increased physical defense to his four-legged construct whenever manifested in combat.

He closed his menu, feeling his pool of five hundred and ten Mana pulse with fresh, disciplined density.

”My build is locked,” Dante said, looking toward the mattress. ”What about yours?”

Maria held the tip of her tongue between her teeth, thumbing through the nodes across Concussive Rupture and Offensive Intervention.

”Dropped two points here,” she pointed to an icon depicting a fractured blade.

[Passive Skill: [Devastating Cleaver - Tier 1].]

[Cost: 2 SP.]

[Effect: Consecutive attacks with bladed weapons exceeding thirty-three pounds against the same target ignore 20% of natural armor and increase physical concussive damage by 15% per hit (stacks up to 3 times).]

”That turns this forty-pound slab into a can opener against heavy plate,” she explained proudly.

”And the other three?”

”Two points in this: [Seismic Rift],” she pulled up the adjacent node, displaying a cracked flagstone split by a hammer.

[Active Skill: [Seismic Rift - Tier 1].]

[Activation Cost: 15 MP.]

[Execution Time: Instant.]

[Effect: Drives a heavy weapon into the ground in a downward blow, generating a sixteen-foot conical shockwave that breaks the balance of ground targets and inflicts moderate concussive damage.]

”And the last point went into boosting the range on [Rapid Intervention],” she finished, dismissing her screen with a snap of her fingers. ”Now my dash hits twenty-five feet instead of thirteen.”

She drew a deep breath, throwing her long arms overhead until three vertebrae in her upper back popped in sequence.

The physical shift was noticeable.

The muscle fibers in Maria’s forearms looked denser, coiled under a constant spring tension beneath her tan skin that lent effortless authority to her hands. Her forty-five Mana was more than enough to chain [Lead Impact] three times in a row and still hold enough in reserve for an opening [Seismic Rift].

She grabbed the hilt of the forty-pound greatsword, hoisting the weapon off the floor one-handed, holding the steel perfectly horizontal before her chest without the point dipping by a single millimeter.

The mass seemed to vanish beneath thirty-three Strength.

”We’re strong now, Dante,” she murmured, eyeing the matte gray flat of the blade in the dim bunker.

”We’re more competent,” Dante corrected, keeping his customary clinical detachment, though the glint in his eyes conceded the point. ”The Capital governor and the Legion marshals are strong. But now we have the toolkit to keep from becoming scrap metal on our first footing error.”

Maria slotted the greatsword back into the leather scabbard against the pallet with a clean metallic clack.

She checked the digital watch on Dante’s wrist.

Four in the afternoon. His watch was not officially over, but sleep was out of the question for her now.

”Now crawl onto that mattress and sleep,” she ordered, pulling her heavy boots back on and cinching the leather laces into tight knots. ”I’ll take watch until ten tonight. Tomorrow we strike this tarp, climb the lines with the copper haul, and hunt down that armored train.”

Dante didn’t argue.

The cognitive load of mapping out the skill tree and the cumulative weariness of seven days in the soot finally claimed their price from his body. He stretched out on the air mattress, still warm from Maria’s weight, pulled the cotton blanket to his chin, and closed his eyes.

The basilisk bone plate housing the Primordial Iron Core across his back sat cold and stable, and his breathing leveled into a peaceful rhythm within two minutes.

Maria grabbed the greatsword, slipped the broad harness over her shoulder, and sat on the edge of the pine pallet facing the sealed hatch.

The clamps held fast against the frame, locking out the world beyond behind four inches of steel and two plies of heavy black tarp.

She rested her elbows on her knees, laced her thick fingers together, and kept watch in the dark, listening to the distant, rhythmic pounding of the valley pistons, utterly confident that no machine in this canyon would ever breach that door without having its engine block cleaved in two.