[One more level to pass {SurgeBorn Qualification Stage} Level Five remaining]
Andrew's dagger pixelated away into thin air, his gaze sweeping across the carnage. The stench of blood was overpowering but now it carried a different weight, the scent of victory.
He stumbled towards a relatively clean patch of wall and leaned against it, his legs threatening to give away. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths.
'Surgeborn qualification stage...level five to complete?' he thought, a flicker of understanding finally dawning on him. He was becoming stronger, more capable. But what exactly is SurgeBorn? The mystery remained.
His thoughts drifted back to the 'Create Personal Monarch' notification. The error message – 'Can't create, zero additions' – still puzzled him. He glanced at his status again.
[Status]
[Coins: 13450]
[Level: 5 (Pending)]
[Stage: SurgeBorn Qualification Stage (LVL 1 to LVL 5)]
[Titles: 0]
[Badges: 0]
[Monarchs: 0]
[Monarch Points (Overall): 125]
[Skills & Abilities: 0]
[Guardian Spirit Points: 50]
[Weapons: Nyxian Dagger]
[Spins: 4]
'Monarch Points... Mabeasts Monarch Points... Orc Monarch Points...' he mused. 'They must be different types. I probably need a specific amount of a specific type to create a monarch.'
He pushed himself off the wall, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. He needed to understand these systems, to unlock their potential. This 'SurgeBorn' stage was almost complete. Level five awaited.
He took one last look at the carnage in the Castle Of Doom, a grim smile playing on his face.
_
The transition to level five was jarring. One moment he was in the castle, the next moment the familiar pixelation enveloped him and then he was somewhere totally and then he was somewhere entirely new.
The air here was different – crisp and cool, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. Gone was the oppressive stench of decay, replaced by a more natural, albeit wild, aroma. He found himself in a dense forest, the towering trees casting long, dancing shadows across the mossy ground. Sunlight filtered through the canopy in dappled patterns, creating an ethereal, almost serene atmosphere.
[Welcome to the Whispering Woods_ home to Sylvans and Treants]
[Sylvans: Swift humanoids with bark-like skin and sharp claws]
[Treants: Ancient, mobile trees of immense strength and resilience]
[Ranks: E1]
[Mission: (Themed) Against Time_Survive Until the Great Conjunction ]
[Time Remaining: 12 Hours]
[Reward: +20 Guardian Spirit Points_+60 Monarch Points_+5000 Coins_One free Skill Orb_Market Unlock]
Andrew frowned. This level was totally different from the rest. Just survival no kill objective.
"Surviving against E1s?" He hissed and summoned his dagger, which pixelated into his right hand.
There were no immediate signs of the Sylvans or Treants, but he knew they were out there, watching, waiting.
'Twelve hours is a long time just to survive' he thought. 'There must be something to it than just hiding'
He began to move cautiously through the undergrowth, his eyes scanning the bushes for any sign of movement. The silence was unnerving, amplifying every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig.
Suddenly, a blur of motion caught his eye. A figure, lean and swift, with skin that seemed to blend seamlessly with the bark of the trees, darted behind a thick oak. A Sylvan.
'Fuck'. Before Andrew could react another Sylvan emerged from the shadows, its long, clawed fingers extended. It moved with incredible speed, its movement fluid and silent.
Andrew weaved the attack, the Sylvan's claw scraping against his arm. He retaliated with a swift thrust of his dagger, aiming for the Sylvan's chest. Its bark-like skin was surprisingly tough, deflecting the blow. The Sylvan hissed, its eyes, the colour of deep forest green, narrowed in anger.
More Sylvans began to emerge from the trees, their numbers growing rapidly. They were agile and coordinated which was far more threatening than the clumsy nature of the ogres.
'E1 rank' Andrew recalled. 'They are stronger and faster than anything I've faced so far'.
He found himself surrounded. The Sylvans circling him, thier sharp claws glinting in the dappled sunlight. He knew he couldn't take them all in a direct fight. He needed to use the environment to his advantage again.
'Tchh' he hissed and thoroughly scanned the surroundings.
He sprinted towards a cluster of large boulders, hoping to create a defensible position. The Sylvans were fast, however, keeping pace with him effortlessly. One of them leaped, its claws aimed at his back.
Andrew twisted, bringing his dagger up in a desperate parry. The impact jarred his arm, and he felt a searing pain as the claws raked across his shoulder.
"Argh" he groaned in pain.
He reached the boulders and scrambled behind the largest one, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The Sylvans surrounded the rocks, their hissing whispers echoing around him.
'Treants are also E1' he thought, his mind racing. 'If they're tougher than these Sylvans, twelve hours is going to be hell'.
He peered around the boulder, assessing the situation. They were at least ten Sylvans and he hadn't seen any Treants. But he was sure they're out there.
An idea sparked in his mind. The forest was dense with different natural obstacles and plenty of undergrowth.
'Terrain!' he declared mentally. Perhaps he could outmaneuver them using the terrain to evade them until the 'Great Conjunction'.
He darted out from behind the boulder, sprinting towards a thicket of thorny bushes, a seemingly suicidal move. The Sylvans were immediately in pursuit, their movements swift and relentless. He plunged into the thorny undergrowth, ignoring the stinging scratches that tore at his skin and clothes as he pushed through the dense tangle of branches.
The Sylvans hesitated at the edge of the thicket, their bark-like skin not enough to ignore the sharp thorns.
Andrew seized the opportunity to gain some distance, weaving through the trees. His eyes were still scanning the surroundings for any signs of Treants, they could be slow but their strength would be immense. Getting caught by them would be fatal.
He glanced at the prompt in front of him , which displayed a time countdown.
[11 hours 44 Minutes 15 Seconds Remaining]
"Just 16 minutes gone? Tchhh"