Gamble for Azeroth 4 (Patreon)

Arvis slept for fourteen hours.

He knew this because when he woke, the angle of light through the window had shifted from the golden haze of late afternoon. It had little to do with the comfort of his temporary residence, as the thin, minimalistic sleeping mat was even more uncomfortable than his lumpy military mattress.

Not that it mattered.

As he lay, he decided to activate the ticket he had received from making a deal with Sylvanas. Technically, it could reveal his hand, but he was in his room. If they were determined to watch him, he couldn’t hide it.

Theoretically risky, but since his whole presence was dependent on the goodwill of someone who was about to commit a politically risky move, he decided to take it.

He needed to understand what else Chaos Gacha could offer to plan properly.

[Select one!]

[Water Breathing]

{Rare Skill: Water Breathing is a specialized swordsmanship style and breathing technique that mimics water, specifically the flow, flexibility and adaptability of the liquid and replicates it with the user's movements, techniques and abilities. Most, if not all, known techniques involve the user bending their body, arm and weapon in a fluid motion to match the movements of rushing or flowing water. With magical power, water can be manifested to further augment the power of the style.}

[Smoke Bomb]

{Uncommon Item: "Smoke Bomb!" a simple-looking smoke bomb. You can throw one of these at your feet and if you successfully manage to obscure yourself from everyone, you can teleport anywhere in a 25-meter range instantly that you would otherwise be able to get into. Restock Timer: 12 Hours}

He didn’t even need to think before selecting the first option. A new sword style focusing on mobility and flexibility was far more useful than a smoke bomb when he was destined to fight the undead one way or another.

Once he picked, information flooded his mind, as if he had spent months learning the technique from an expert. There were ten techniques, but he doubted he could pull more than two of them.

It would have been a huge problem, if it hadn’t been for the other part of the skill. Specific training techniques to improve his physical strength significantly, split into four categories.

Total concentration breathing, which was a special way to breathe that boosted strength and improved recovery.

Training gourd, which was designed to improve lung capacity.

Elemental mimicry, which was a way to better embody the element of the style and improve effectiveness.

Then, physical conditioning, a set of high-intensity training moves to increase lung capacity and cardiovascular strength.

Frankly, even without the offensive techniques, that would have been a treasure. The ride from Stratholme and the ghoul attacks had shown just how weak he was, and the casual displays of power from Sylvanas further confirmed it.

He didn’t start training immediately, no matter how tempting it was. Activating the ticket was a risk he needed to take, but he could probably delay training a bit. Maybe even search for a waterfall to hide the inevitable noise it would create.

Sylvanas had helped him far more than he expected, but she was not an ally he could trust openly. He wished he could, but if wishes worked, he would have been living a comfortable life in the capital enjoying his life, and not thinking how to survive in a world where the Alliance was about to shatter.

He sat up and looked around the room. Small, clean, built into the branch of one of the great trees near the edge of the small ranger settlement. He stood up and walked out. Luckily, someone had left a pitcher of water and a plate of thin, pale bread and dried meat at the entrance on a covered plate.

He ate it aggressively. It was surprisingly tasty despite its simplicity, with a faintly sweet aftertaste that he suspected was some kind of elven spice he had never encountered. More importantly, it quieted his stomach enough that he could think.

Arvis stepped outside into the afternoon air, breathing deeply, interested to note that he could breathe deeper than he could. Just a bit, but it was still a difference. The settlement was quiet at this hour, only a handful of rangers visible on the walkways above, moving with an interesting mixture of grace and hurry.

He didn’t try to interact with the rangers. Instead, he walked away from the settlement. Not too far until he could find a little spot that he could turn into an impromptu garden.

Perfect for testing Bloom.

He touched. The soil was dark, rich, practically humming with latent energy, far better than any farming land Lordaeron possessed. Not a surprise considering the untouched nature and the incredible mana density.

The difference was staggering. Not just the amount of mana available in the air, but also the ease he could interact with it. As if the mana outside the world was muddy water, here it was pure spring water, soft and palatable, but also chilled to perfection, with a tinge of mint flavor.

He sighed, wondering if childhood experience trying to be a mage would have been different. “Doesn’t matter,” he finally muttered. Wondering how much better a mage he would have been if he was able to get educated in Quel’Thalas was pointless, not when his family lacked the clout to send him to Dalaran.

He might as well imagine whether he would have made a better prince than Arthas.

“Focus,” he muttered as he touched the empty patch of soil. He reached for a patch of grass, intending to encourage growth. The blades stretched upward at the slightest touch, stretching upward.

He blinked. This time, he didn’t feel any pull on his limited mana reserves. He was tempted to try it immediately for something bigger, but he managed to control himself. Simple and steady was the way, and getting carried away could be risky.

Not directly, maybe, but indirectly.

He walked around for a few seconds before he found a small pear tree, its fruits tiny and unripe. He put his hand, and used Bloom. Not immediately as a tool like he had done during his escape, but slowly, carefully, examining every little detail.

It was an interesting experience. It was not a spell. “Or, if it is, it’s not like the cantrips my tutors tried to teach,” he added. A part of it was the control required. Being a mage was difficult, because casting required absolute focus while shaping the mana. Failing to do so came with consequences, ranging between an unpleasant headache and an explosive death.

A rather disheartening range.

Bloom’s automatic control wasn’t the only difference. Arcane spells required a mage to absorb environmental mana and control it internally before it could be used. Arvis remembered his tutors mentioning the ways to leverage environmental mana, such as runes, but there was nothing in his training about a spell that could casually alternate between environmental and personal mana.

However, the extraordinary nature of its workings didn’t mean it had no lessons when it came to his own casting.

He had failed how to be a mage, partially because of his low aptitude, but a big part of it was not understanding how to channel and control mana. His tutors tried to explain, but always felt like trying to learn about colors as a blind person.

“No time like the present,” he said as he raised his finger, focusing for a moment to remember his lessons, and channeled his mana.

Arcane bolt. A simple, directed blast of mana.

It worked.

Well, somewhat, he thought. The resulting spell was nothing more than a purple flash of light, unraveling before it got farther than an arm’s length. Still, he was happy. He did something that had troubled him all his childhood.

Unfortunately, all he needed was to repeat it half a dozen times before exhaustion hit. He had a limited awareness of his reserves, as it was another thing that his training was supposed to cover, but the sense of exhaustion was clear.

It was interesting that a bunch of failed cantrips exhausted him more than Bloom, which was probably about its nature of using environmental mana. It was also possible that his arcane bolt was even more inefficient than he realized.

It didn’t matter much.

“Now, it’s time to meditate,” he muttered, aware that, even in such a dense location, it would take several minutes for him to get into the right mindset. Then, he paused, remembering his skill. He was afraid of using the skill fully where elves could see, but he decided the basic breathing that came with it was an acceptable one.

It shouldn’t look that different, and even if elves noticed something different, it was better to be caught in the open rather than trying to skulk in the shadows. The latter would look as if he were trying to hide something, while the former, he could pass it off as trying to experiment with a difficult family technique, one that only worked thanks to amazing elven land and its incredible benefits.

Once again, one could never go wrong stroking an elf’s ego.

He took a deep breath, feeling his body fill not just with air that gave him a burst of energy, but also mana that refilled his reserves with ease. Three breaths were all it took to dissipate his exhaustion.

It was not groundbreaking. He was aware that the recovery speed was mostly about his pathetic reserves and the incredible mana density around him. A true mage could gather far more mana in the same amount of time.

However, while it was not groundbreaking, it was still impressive, as a true mage, he was not. He was not even an apprentice, but a failed student who hadn’t practiced for years.

He grabbed the pear he had grown earlier, enjoying its incredible taste. It was perfectly ripe, the kind that could be found only a week or two at the peak of the harvest season. He hummed, thinking exactly how to handle it.

While he thought, he went and picked a wild strawberry root, impossible to distinguish without Bloom to guide him. He pulled it from the ground, returned to the empty patch, and used his ability to replant it and push its maturity, deliberately pushing it so he had to spend his own mana as well.

He took a breath to replenish it just as fast. He paused a moment to enjoy the taste of the wild strawberry before he spread the seeds, and tried to grow the whole patch at once. Growing them from nothing took more than just maturing, draining his mana completely … which he replenished by a deep breath carrying mana.

Again and again.

It was useful for two reasons. One, it helped him to test Bloom properly. Within seconds, green shoots appeared all around the small patch, thickened into stems, spread leaves, and produced a cluster of red fruits that looked as if they'd been growing all season.

Understanding his ability was important, but it was not the only benefit.

Constant practice was the most basic way for a student to expand his reserves and develop familiarity with the mana flow. Of course, ordinarily, it was a cycle that needed to be handled carefully. For a student, every cast leaked mana, which damaged the body and required some rest.

Luckily for him, Bloom was special. It didn’t leak mana, meaning he could repeat it without fear. He could feel his reserves growing in real time. Admittedly, even with the most recent improvement, they wouldn’t match a gifted toddler, but every bit helped.

Quel’Thalas was safe, but he couldn’t stay there forever. Frankly, if he could stay a year before he got kicked out, he would count himself lucky.

He stopped thinking about it. There was no point in wasting his time thinking about things he couldn’t influence. All he needed was to leverage his advantages.

He emptied and refilled his reserves a hundred times while he grew multiple batches of strawberries, feeling the improvement.

The only time he took a break was to eat his own products. They were the best strawberries he had ever tasted. The kind of flavor that made him realize every strawberry he'd eaten in his life had been a pale imitation. The combination of the perfect environment of Quel’Thalas and his own ability was a true wonder.

All he needed to see whether elven rangers would pay for it. No one would give him enchanted historical weapons, but he wouldn’t say no to some silver, or even some lessons if they could spare the time.

Once the large bowl was filled, he didn’t try gathering more strawberry. Instead, he found a vine. Luckily, unlike the trees that had enough awareness to reject his control, vines didn’t.

So, he created a small patch for his control before he started leveraging the vines as whips. Once again, it drained his mana repeatedly.

It was a fascinating combination, allowing him to expand his mana reserves and develop a higher sensitivity at the same time.

Not bad for a couple of hours of practice. It was a template.

Only after he brought the strawberries back to his room did he return to the opening. He pulled his new sword.

The Sword of Vengeance.

His first impression: it was heavier than his old blade.

Not heavy enough to make it unusable, but heavy enough that he was glad he needed time to practice. The balance was different too; the balance point was further along the length rather than near the hilt. It made it harder to control, but far more devastating attacks, particularly for stabbing or short, devastating slashes.

It was not the best weapon for him. His original style was shield-based, requiring his sword to be easier to control to take advantage of the gaps. Water Breathing was completely different in most aspects, but still, at its core lay flexibility and mobility; relying on agile slashing attacks.

The Sword of Vengeance ran contrary to both to some degree, meaning neither his original style nor his new one could be leveraged fully. However, the loss of efficiency was nothing compared to the difference between a standard-issue sword from the army, and a high-quality enchanted weapon with holy damage.

It might have been a slightly more difficult decision if he were trying to pick between his family sword and the Sword of Vengeance. His family sword was naturally back at the estate, in the possession of his lovely uncle.

He decided to practice the Water Breathing style directly, but move slowly.

There was no point in hiding the style from the elves. They were too insular to expect recognizing the style as something unusual; so he could probably pass it off as a family style.

Even if they realized its extraordinary nature, it didn’t matter. The Water Breathing was impressive for him, but ultimately, he was merely the heir of a minor house, one without its own martial tradition. Even if he pushed the Water Breathing to limit and learned all ten forms, he wouldn’t come close to matching warriors like Uther or Turalyon.

He started practicing not only the basic steps, but also the first three forms, named Water Surface Slash, Water Wheel, and Flowing Dance; even though he doubted he could actually pull the third one off without collapsing. It seemed to require a degree of agility and physical power that he lacked.

He still practiced them because, combined, they offered a surprisingly complete style for a warrior fighting solo. Water Surface Slash was relatively simple, a forward dash combined with a devastating slash, relying on supremacy of speed to deal with the enemy.

It was perfect to deal with solo ghouls and zombies.

Meanwhile, Water Wheel was a circular swing that would be effective if he was ever surrounded by multiple enemies, and the third form was a way to move between multiple enemies without getting surrounded and cut them down, almost like a dance. For both forms, the real challenge would have been to deliver enough power to cleave through multiple enemies. Luckily, his new sword came with holy damage, solving that problem to a certain degree.

He alternated between basic cuts and the slowed forms, acquainting his muscle memory with his new sword as well as getting a better understanding of how his new style worked.

Technically, he could push further, as the skill came with another explanation, that with magical power, water can be manifested to further augment the power of the style.

Unfortunately, unlike Bloom, Water Breathing didn’t come with the convenient feature of absorbing the environmental mana, nor did it actually ran automatically.

It was the difference between Abilities and Skills. Abilities ran automatically, not requiring him to control the details. As long as mana was supplied, it worked. Skills, on the other hand, were no different from his own swordsmanship in their nature. He was still in full control.

Just as a trembling hand would make it impossible for him to use a precise slash, his limited mana control meant he couldn’t imbue his attacks with the said water effect even though he had the knowledge.

However, it didn’t matter. He was confident that, thanks to Quel’Thalas’ incredible environment, he would just need a few months of steady practice until he could achieve that confidently.

Maybe even faster if he could achieve more feats and get more tickets. He wasn’t too hopeful about it. He could see that the System measured achievements by assuming he was building his own kingdom, and getting people’s loyalty or service would be the most reasonable path.

Unfortunately, while arrogance of the elves meant that he couldn’t simply start hiring them as servants and see if it triggered achievements. He didn’t even want to imagine how they would react if a human tried to make a servant out of them.

As for getting tickets from trade, he didn’t have much hope.

While Sylvanas allowed him to get a ticket, the wording implied that the System registered it as a trade deal; likely with the implication that it was between two political entities; Sylvanas’ position as the Ranger-General giving her significant autonomy to register it as a trade deal.

A very favorable one, considering he had just given common-sense advice in exchange for a valuable enchanted weapon. It wasn’t something trivial to replicate.

He continued practicing well past sunset, alternating between gathering more fruit and testing his new style. Eventually, the war would come.

Then, a voice distracted him from his thoughts. “Interesting moves.”

Sylvanas was here.