Chapter 45 - [Turning Point]

Orcs were attacking Sableton.

It didn’t make any sense, but I had no reason to doubt Thale’s warning. The closest orc village was more than a hundred miles away, and they were exceedingly insular. In [Ferrum Online], the wilderness of the Northern Realms was populated with undead and outlanders, not orcs. The monstrous races primarily spawned in Mitrikova and the southern reaches of Etronia.

By and large, orcs were usually fought near the end of the early game. Enemy progression throughout [Ferrum Online] looked something like this: slimes → giant spiders → orcs → undead → outlanders → demons. The Northern Realms were generally thought of as “undead” territory due to the works of Count Thale and his cadre of irresponsible necromancers.

It was incredibly rare to run into enemies that weren’t native to that area. If a player were to run into demons when traveling through Mitrikova at level 5, they’d be instantly killed. Though, it wasn’t necessarily unheard of for monsters to travel between regions. Sometimes, high-level monsters would invade a lower-level region, but the players would be given enough warning to leave long before the incursion arrived.

Thinking about the strangeness of orcs in the Northern Realms, I exited my room and began walking as fast as my small legs could carry me. As I walked, a message appeared in my vision.

BE ADVISED

That was the first time the System had ever communicated with me in all capital letters. A deep fear seeped into my bones as I watched and waited for the next message to arrive.

YOU HAVE REACHED A TURNING POINT IN YOUR JOURNEY

If there was any doubt about the significance of the events unfolding at that moment, it was dashed by that message. I had reached a “turning point.” There was no doubt in my mind that my actions for the foreseeable future would have a significant impact on the rest of my life.

My breathing became ragged as anxiety and worry filled my body completely. If I had not learned years before how to operate well under pressure, I would have knelt in that moment and spent the next few minutes hyperventilating.

I looked down, checking my equipment. I was not prepared to go into battle this early in my life, and my equipment made that clear. As I walked through the hall, the only items with any utility I had were my wooden cane, Lord Riomed’s wand, and my leather notebook.

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I could rely on [Hellfire] to bring me through a small fight against weak enemies. If I were to run into an Orc Captain or, God forbid, an Orc Chief, I’d be dead. One hit would be more than enough for any orc to kill me instantly.

With that thought in mind, I withdrew my wand from my pocket and held it firmly in my hand. I’d have to rely on [Shield] to keep me protected if a fight were to break out. With my right hand, I would wield the calamitous force of [Hellfire]. With my left, I would stave off the wicked blows of the monstrous horde.

Still, I would rather not fight. If I were to run into a party of your average orcs, I figured I’d have a 90% chance of survival. They would die, certainly, but one of them could always get a lucky hit on me. When my life was on the line, a 10% chance of death was way too high.

In addition, monsters counted as “animals” for the purpose of loss of healing potential. If I were to kill an orc, I would instantly lose 10% of my healing potential. There was no doubt that, if I were to unleash Hellfire at full-throttle, my healing potential would not survive the night.

When I reached the entrance foyer, I saw Sir Walter Goldshod frantically hooking his scabbarded sword into the sword frog hanging from his belt. He saw me looking down at him from the second floor, and he said, “Stay where you are, Lord Thale! Orcs have been spotted just outside of town!”

As I slowly walked down the stairs toward Sir Walter, I said, “Let me come with you. I’m a Priest, as you saw. I can heal the wounded.”

Walter’s expression looked conflicted. He stopped for a moment, unsure of what to do, before a man’s voice cut through his uncertainty. “If Thale wishes to join us, then he shall.”

Count Armond Feldrast appeared in the foyer from one of the doors on the first floor. “He’s the only priest in Sableton. We would be foolish to turn down his request.”

Solana Feldrast appeared from a few feet behind Armond. She wore brown trousers and a thick shirt made for gardening. Absent clear battle attire, that was probably the best outfit to wear into combat. “I’m going, too,” she said. “You can’t stop me, Dad.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Armond said with a hint of sadistic glee in his voice. I realized quickly that he didn’t dread the coming battle, he relished it. “It’s not every day you get the chance to use Hellfire upon living subjects. It will be an excellent opportunity for you.”

What a world I had found myself in. Solana was merely seventeen, and I was merely ten. On Earth, allowing children on the front lines was inhumane. Here, however, it was a fact of life. On Ferrum, you had to be able to fight, or you died.

Sir Eadric Vanta and Melissa Thorn appeared in the foyer. After the battle with the outlanders, Eadric had eschewed his chainmail in favor of the much more mobile gambeson armor. Melissa was dressed in much more casual clothing than she usually wore, and she carried a leather-bound tome in one hand. She had become an amateur mage over the past few years, and she could probably help in the battle somewhat.