Aldrich read the description of the Rune, his heart pounding with exhilaration. The ability sounded like something out of a dream—a tool of unparalleled power that could change his destiny.
He couldn't help but imagine the possibilities, his mind racing with visions of vanquished foes and triumphant victories. The sheer potential it offered made his breath quicken, a giddy smile spreading across his face as he thought, This could make me unstoppable.
But as his eyes skimmed the latter part, his excitement faltered, replaced by a deep frown.
Goldforged Resolve (Keystone Passive)
Description:
Entering combat generates 1 stack every second for the next 3 seconds, refreshing the duration with each instance of combat and stacking the effect up to 4 times.
At maximum stacks, your next basic attack within 5 seconds against an enemy consumes all stacks to:
Deal bonus magic damage equal to 10% of your maximum Health.
Heal you for 2% of your maximum Health.
Permanently grant +0.01 Vitality after slaying an enemy.
Your body is no longer mere flesh and bone—it has been gilded in the fires of combat, hammered by hardship, and shaped by will. Each blow you suffer adds another layer of golden resilience. When your patience breaks into fury, your strike becomes a statement: power refined, resolve rewarded. Over time, you do not simply survive... you evolve.
"Gold does not rust. It endures. As shall I."
"So, I need to stay in combat for at least 12 seconds to achieve maximum stacks, deal bonus damage, and heal," he mused aloud. His eyes narrowed as he reread the final part of the ability.
"Killing an enemy grants +0.01 Vitality. That's why it's called Goldforged Resolve. The more I fight, the longer I persist, the more I kill… the tankier I become." He shook his head and sighed, uncertain if he'd made the right choice.
"I just wanted to be a chill dude in this fantasy world, but this rune seems like it wants me to be a murderer." The thought turned his stomach, and he nearly gagged.
The idea of gaining power through killing unsettled him, a weight pressing on his chest as he thought of the implications. It wasn't just the act itself—it was the change it might bring in him. Would each victory strip away another piece of the person he used to be?
The prospect of becoming someone unrecognizable, someone defined by violence, made his stomach churn.
"Who am I kidding?" he muttered, staring at the dirt beneath his boots. "My brother and father are warriors, knights. Of course, they've killed people and beasts. I'll soon be like them." He glanced at the boar leg he'd been gnawing and sighed again, resigned to the brutal reality of this world compared to his old one.
Checking his system clock, he noted it was past noon.
Finishing the last bite of his meal, he set off toward Brambleford.
The forest around him seemed to come alive.
Towering trees with vibrant green canopies swayed gently in the breeze, their leaves whispering secrets to one another. Sunlight filtered through the gaps, painting dappled patterns on the mossy ground. The air was rich with the scent of pine and blooming wildflowers, while birdsong mingled with the soft hum of insects.
A stream meandered nearby, its crystal-clear water sparkling as it flowed over smooth stones. Occasional rustles in the underbrush hinted at small woodland creatures scurrying about, adding to the sense of vitality that permeated the forest.
An hour later, a tall watchtower came into view.
A soldier manning it aimed a crossbow at him and shouted, "State your business, stranger!"
Aldrich flinched, his steps faltering. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, and his heart raced like a drumbeat in his chest.
He raised his hands slowly, his voice trembling, barely above a whisper. "I… I just want to enter Brambleford," he called back, the words tumbling out awkwardly.
The soldier fell silent for a moment before yelling to someone below.
A second soldier emerged, clad in leather armor with a short sword at his waist. Approaching Aldrich, he asked, "Do you carry any weapons?"
Aldrich's throat went dry.
He shook his head hurriedly. "N-no, sir. You can… you can check if you want," he stammered, trying to muster a nervous smile.
His hands stayed up, fingers twitching slightly.
The soldier scrutinized him for a moment before stepping closer and patting him down.
After a few moments, he called up to the watchtower, "He's clear!"
Then, turning back to Aldrich, he said, "You can pass through. Just walk straight, and in a few minutes, you'll see an iron gate. Present this to the guard, and they'll let you in." He handed Aldrich a wooden badge with a thorny bush carved into it.
"Th-thank you," Aldrich mumbled, clutching the badge tightly.
He gave a quick, clumsy bow and hurried past, feeling the soldier's gaze lingering on him.
"The people here are surprisingly nice. I thought they'd attack a weirdly dressed stranger like me," he thought, his mood lifting slightly as he skipped toward the town, though his hands still trembled slightly from the encounter.
What he didn't know was that under the former King Uther Proudmoore's rule, humans were encouraged to help each other in times of need. Their common foes—beasts and orcs—constantly threatened the realm, fostering solidarity. But that unity was beginning to fray, as whispers of human traitors working with other races spread among the lower classes.
After a few minutes, Aldrich reached a tall wall made of iron and wood. Watchtowers stood at every corner, their occupants on high alert.
The sight reminded him of the ongoing war at the southern border. Towns in this region were clearly prepared for any hordes that might slip through. Shaking off the thought, he held up the badge to the nearest watchtower.
The iron gate rumbled open.
Smiling nervously, he marched inside. A young soldier, looks like his age but shorter, approached and eyed him warily. "And you are? What's your business here?"
Aldrich hesitated, his mind racing for a convincing answer.
Shifting his weight from foot to foot, he stammered, "Uh, Raymond," his voice cracking slightly as his eyes darted nervously to the soldier's face, fearing he might see through the lie.
"I… I'm here to work as a blacksmith," he added quickly, forcing a nervous smile.
The soldier's gaze lingered for a moment before he said, "If you cause any trouble, expect to be thrown out. Understood?"
Aldrich nodded hastily. "Y-yes, sir. Of course. No trouble, I swear."
As he was waved through, he turned back. "By the way, what's your name?"
"Tim," the soldier replied shortly.
"Do you know where the nearest pharmacist or alchemist is?" Aldrich asked, thinking of his empty pockets. His tone was timid, almost apologetic.
Tim tapped his boots on the ground. "No alchemists here. Only big cities in the Kingdom of Almira have those. But we do have a pharmacist. Go straight—it's next to the Adventurer Guild. Look for a building with a flag showing a monster and a sword. That's your landmark."
Aldrich nodded gratefully. "Th-thank you, Tim," he said, before heading toward the guild.
The town was bustling with activity. Vendors called out to passersby, hawking everything from fresh produce to gleaming weapons. Children darted through the streets, laughing and playing games.
Blacksmiths hammered away at their forges, sending sparks flying, while mages in flowing robes discussed spells near a fountain that gurgled merrily in the town square.
The scent of freshly baked bread mingled with the aroma of roasted meat, creating an inviting atmosphere. Musicians played cheerful tunes on lutes and flutes, adding a lively soundtrack to the scene.
Aldrich noticed barefoot children playing and townsfolk training near the walls, which reminded him of his father's rigorous drills for the family soldiers.
"I miss Mom and Dad," he thought wistfully, regret tugging at his heart. Memories of his mother's warm embrace and his father's stern yet encouraging voice filled his mind.
He could almost hear his mother humming a lullaby as she worked in the kitchen or picture his father teaching him to wield a wooden sword in their backyard.
The ache of homesickness was sharp, a reminder of the comforts and love he had left behind. Leaving had been necessary, but the ache of homesickness lingered.
"Hey! Look at him!" a child's voice interrupted his thoughts. "He looks weird, don't you think?"
Aldrich flushed, painfully aware of his tattered blanket covering his cloth armor and oversized pants dragging on the ground. He quickened his pace, embarrassed.
Finally, he spotted the building with the banner of a monster and sword. "Wow," he murmured, trying and failing to whistle. He chuckled at himself. "I've only seen places like this in movies. Didn't think it'd look this grand."
Next to the five-story Adventurer Guild stood a smaller, two-story building with a sign reading Mag's Pharmacy. Tightening his oversized pants, he approached.
Knocking on the door, he pushed it open. "I'll let myself in," he called, chuckling awkwardly.
Inside, a pale, slender woman was healing a young boy. Her hands glowed with a soft yellow radiance, making her look almost holy.
She appeared to be in her early twenties.
"Wait a sec," she said without looking up. "Let me finish healing Wyle."
Aldrich nodded and sat nearby, taking in the pharmacy. It reminded him of a clinic from his old world, but with a distinct rustic charm. Wooden walls were lined with neatly arranged shelves brimming with jars of dried herbs, glass vials filled with vibrant liquids, and bundles of hanging plants.
A faint glow emanated from enchanted lanterns, casting a soft, warm light.
The air was rich with the aroma of medicinal herbs and blooming flowers, creating a soothing atmosphere. A wooden counter with a carved floral design stood near the center, cluttered with a mortar and pestle, parchment scrolls, and a small, steaming kettle.
In the corner, a basket overflowed with bandages and poultices, ready for use. The combination of ancient craftsmanship and practical design gave the pharmacy an inviting, almost homely feel.
Reaching into his pocket, Aldrich felt the health potion he'd summoned. He debated whether to sell it, knowing it was the only one he had.