Summoned A Hundred Years Too Late

Inflict Weakness - Uncommon - 1

Applies a curse of weakness to the target.

Each level increases the duration and potency of the curse.

Alexandra closed the appendix of her journal as she eyed the area where she first fought the three goblins. It was right at the entrance of their burrow, they should still be there. The wounds on her cheeks were pulling her face down. But she wasn’t smiling, so it wasn’t too bad.

She’d been worried she wouldn’t know how to use Inflict Weakness. It was her first skill, she hadn’t known how it would work.

The knowledge on how to use Inflict Weakness had been deposited straight into her mind. It was like finding out that she had a third hand, ready to be used.

After finally obtaining the skill, she’d been tempted to take a break. She’d already done a lot today. Being in top shape for the fight that was to come sounded like a good idea. But reality had a knack for getting in the ways of plans. Her injuries needed treatment, and delaying any longer than necessary was a risk she wasn’t willing to take.

What if she ended up bedridden, unable to complete her quest the next day? It would all have been for naught.

The question remained as to what a “curse of weakness” was exactly, but based on the skill quest, and the feeling she got from her new instinct, she believed it would reduce her target’s strength attribute.

This could be good. Hopefully enough to bridge the gap between her and the goblins.

Patting the handle of her sickle, she took a deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. She didn’t know what she was doing, but it felt important to regain her composure before jumping into battle.

Another breath.

“Enough,” she sighed. “Let’s end this farce.”

She’d chosen this fight earlier too. That hadn’t gone well.

The difference was she’d run. Lost her nerve when her blood flowed and the pain got real. Now she had a skill, and apparently no better sense of self-preservation than before.

She almost smiled. Progress.

Her eyes scanned the tall flowers, the growth, the flowing plain. Her ears listened for the smallest movement, for a twig breaking, for the grass shifting. Pollen and petals swirled with each breeze, filling her nose with a scent that didn’t evoke violence.

Everything else about her did. She took a step toward the den, dried blood cracking on her thighs as her legs moved.

She saw the first goblin before reaching the burrow. It wasn’t the one she’d injured earlier. Maybe one of its friends, she couldn’t really tell them apart. It was facing away from her.

Not wasting time, she pushed toward it, reaching with her sickle. The goblin heard the noise and reacted fast. It threw a quick glance behind, then itself forward, shouting warnings and calling for help.

Alexandra didn’t relent, catching up to the goblin right before it could sneak into the gap between two boulders. The tip of her sickle buried itself in the monster’s upper arm.

She breathed, and willed it to happen.

Inflict Weakness.

The first thing she found out was that casting this skill didn’t come without a cost. Something left her. She wasn’t sure what, but she felt it. Like a breath leaving her body, and never returning.

Mana? She thought, gritting her teeth. She was grossly uninformed of how this world worked, and that needed to change.

In any case, the skill took effect, and when she pulled her sickle, the goblin was unable to fight back as the skin and flesh of its arm tore open under her blade.

It was far from enough to end the goblin, though. The green creature shifted between the boulders, leaving her reach. Alexandra leaped over the obstacle, and continued her chase.

The goblin was slower, the consequence of Inflict Weakness, its mangled arm, or a combination of both.

It took her two long strides to reach it again. Belly down, she swung her sickle, trying to nab the other arm. She missed.

Alexandra clicked her tongue, and resumed the hunt.

The goblin broke into a limping run across the open grass, still shrieking. Alexandra closed the gap in three strides and drove her sickle into the back of its knee.

It collapsed, face-first into the dirt, thrashing.

She raised her sickle.

Then stopped.

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Two shapes had emerged from the burrow. One she recognized. It moved with a familiar hitch in its shoulder.

It had come back. Her lips twitched into a smile that quickly turned into a grimace as it pulled on her injured cheeks.

Those three…

A low chuckle rose from her throat, her gaze locking onto the two newcomers.

She reached down with her sickle, wrapping the blade around the neck of the collapsed goblin. Not breaking eye contact, she pulled, slaughtering the beast.

The surviving goblins split as they closed in.

Alexandra let them.

She felt good. Strong. The uninjured goblin arrived first. She pushed off her back foot to create some distance, then she charged toward the weaker one.

Pain wasn’t enough to erase her smile. Her quest was completed. The goblin was dead. The streak was alive.

She could leave now, but she didn’t want to.

The curse of weakness hit the already frail goblin. Its legs almost faltered when the spell took effect. She saw it, and with force she didn’t know she had, plunged the spine of her sickle straight through its chest, its ribs cracking under the blade.

She was already turning to face her last remaining foe, when her sickle holding arm got stuck. She pulled, trying to retrieve her blade from the entrails of the second goblin, but it was stuck. She pulled harder, but it wouldn’t come, not without the body attached.

“Shit.” She spat on the ground. The goblin was closing in.

Decisive, she gave up her weapon, and stood up to meet the greenskin. Bare handed. She snorted. Like she’d joked at breakfast.

Except this time she meant it.

Inflict Weakness.

This one was a punch in the guts. Her guts. But she didn’t have time to reflect on causes and consequences. The goblin was there, it jumped at her face. Too short. Too low. The curse working against its instincts to make it misjudge its power.

She raised her knee, slamming it right into the goblin’s face. She heard a crack, then felt the sharp teeth of the creature pierce through the linen of her pants, then her skin. Its nails reached around her thighs with desperation.

Yet, Alexandra was still smiling.

She pressed her two hands around the head of the goblin. Then, with a short burst of strength, twisted its neck.

The smile left her face the moment the goblin stopped moving.

She stood there, hands still cupped around its head, and felt the adrenaline begin its retreat. What replaced it wasn’t guilt, or satisfaction. Just a strange, ringing stillness. The flowers swayed around her.

She’d done that.

Alexandra released the goblin and straightened up. Its body crumbled to her feet. She kicked it to the side, and turned back to retrieve her sickle. Only when it was strapped to her belt, did she allow herself to breathe.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, her breath short. Everything ached, and the cuts on her cheeks had reopened. But the worst sensation was new: a deep, pulsating burn inside her right chest. It wasn’t her lung. It was…

Mana? She guessed. Must have used too much.

She stepped away from the bodies, concerned that more goblins would be attracted by the scent. Or worse, who knew what sort of beast lurked in the flower fields?

Inflict Weakness was a blessing, but also a sharp reminder that she wasn’t on earth anymore. The mana cost had surprised her the first time, but it was the goblins’ reaction that stayed with her. The stumble. The misjudged jump. Three creatures that had nearly killed her, reduced to manageable problems by a single cast.

And yet she’d kept smiling through all of it. That wasn’t the skill.

Laika was a world of magic, and magic could mean power. But it could also mean things far worse than goblins in a flower field, things that wouldn’t stumble from a random curse.

She needed to be ready for that. Her streak needed her to be.

She wasn’t far from Lanterne. In her peak condition, it would take less than an hour to reach the village. That hour was the time it took for her condition to improve, and what she’d come to call her mana burn to subside.

She hadn’t quite made it back home, but she could spot the pale smoke of a chimney rising over the horizon.

Yet, she didn’t press on. Instead, she found a nice, flat rock to sit on, and did what she didn’t dare to while suffering from mana burn.

She summoned her journal.

Slay a goblin (1/1) -> Quest Completed: +10 exp, +1 STR, Skill Quest Unlocked: Sickle Mastery.

Daily Quest Streak: 1 -> 2

Inflict Weakness 1 -> 3

Sickle Mastery. She hadn’t expected that one.

Alexandra ran her finger along the flat of her blade, still dark with goblin blood. A skill for the sickle specifically. The system that governed her class was tracking her. Of course it was. But it was also adapting to her actions. Had she been given a sword, she would probably have received the skill quest for Sword Mastery.

Something to keep in mind. Anyway, she’d have to acquire Sickle Mastery as soon as possible. Having it for her next fight could make a difference.

The strength gain was welcome. She could feel it. Clearly. It wasn’t subtle. She was plain stronger than before.

But Inflict Weakness was what made her pause.

She flipped back through her journal to the skill entry, reading it again as though it might have changed.

Inflict Weakness - Uncommon - 3

Uncommon. She hadn’t taken the time to ponder earlier, but now, as she turned the word over in her mind she felt small. Presuming the grading system followed the typical common to legendary scale…

If a low level uncommon skill was already this strong, how far could she go?

Two levels in a single fight as well. She’d cast it three times, once per goblin. That explained why the final goblin had been so easy. The skill had already leveled up by then.

She leaned back on the flat rock, staring at the chimney smoke on the horizon. Ten experience points for the quest. Just like yesterday, so a fixed gain. No additional experience for her kills.

Good to know.

She wanted to rub her hands on her face, but stopped mid motion as she remembered her wounds.

She sighed. “Not gonna be able to avoid that Bamir.”

Bamir, the priest of Fanon. The village’s healer. She wasn’t looking forward to it, but she needed his help.

Only, she hoped that he wouldn’t see through her fake amnesia. She pulled her hair back, freeing her face. She was new to this world, how could she come up with a good backstory? Amnesia was her best bet at explaining her lack of common knowledge.

All she could do was stick to it and pray.

She stood up, ready to finish the journey. One look at her torn, blood stained clothes, told her all she needed to know.

Hopefully whatever had brought her here was listening.