[VotA] Chapter 3 - Day 1: First Skills (Patreon)

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[Starting Tutorial Dungeon: Black Forest (F)]

[Diminishing Difficult to Learn New Skills]

[Out-of-Combat Regeneration: Enabled]

[Improvement: Common Regeneration (-) → Lesser Regeneration (F)]

[Improvement: Enhanced Regeneration (F) → Basic Regeneration (E)]

[Temporary Regeneration Boost Activated Until Tutorial Completion]

The golden text faded from his vision before Mark could read them all, as he had to instinctively shield his face, a harsh light burning against his eyes.

Slowly, his vision adjusted, and he gasped.

Colossal trees loomed around him, towering like twenty-story buildings. Their canopy, sparse and brittle, did little to block the oppressive yellow sunlight. The air was thick, humid, and stifling, but the ground was damp beneath his bare feet.

However, what truly unsettled him was the trees themselves.

Instead of lush greenery, most were covered in brittle, withered leaves—fading yellows and deep browns replacing any sign of life. A stench hit him like a brick wall, a pungent mix of decay and something far worse. 

His stomach lurched.

Did something die here?

The thought alone made his breath hitch, and bile threatened to rise in his throat. Instinct kicked in, and he stepped back.

Mark spun, scanning the lifeless forest, heart pounding. 

Shit, maybe something did die here.

His mind raced through possibilities and strategies, even trying to force Raion’s fragmented memories to show the way up.

But then, his eyes widened.

Mark ducked behind the nearest tree, pressing his back against the bark, breath shallow.

This wasn’t just a gut feeling. It wasn’t just Raion’s game logic warning him that “every tutorial culls the weak”.

No.

There is a rune trap on that goddam tree!

He peeked out, narrowing his eyes at the anomaly a few meters away.

A few meters away, a giant tree, its wooden bark seared with black marks, stood still.

A massive tree, its bark scorched black, stood out against the rest. But what made Mark’s skin crawl was what was drawn upon it—a circle of runes inked in some kind of sickly green fluid.

Mark ducked back behind the tree, heart hammering against his ribs as he crouched onto the damp soil.

For a moment, the rotting forest disappeared from his mind, replaced by something much worse.

The stone prison.

The runes on the walls.

The torture and tormation.

His fingers dug into the earth.

I am not in that place.

Mark clenched his jaw, pushing away the phantom sensations. His body trembled, but he forced himself to focus.

I am free. I have the System. I just need to survive. Grow stronger. And I’ll never be locked up. Never.

He first controlled his breath. Then, crawling forward, he peeked at the rune again.

This time, he analyzed it.

“…Movement. Signal. Roots. Vitality. Siphon.”

The words left his lips in a whisper as his mind pieced them together.

Minutes passed, filled only with his murmured deductions and the distant sounds of a dying forest. Then, his eyes gleamed with realization.

A trap designed to send a signal through the tree’s roots when triggered by movement. 

He adjusted his glasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose. 

It doesn’t use mana. So, it’s fueled by the tree’s vitality?

His lips parted slightly as the implication sank in.

His gaze flicked across the forest, tracing the skeletal remains of trees, their trunks rotting, their leaves dry and lifeless.

One tree could be a coincidence.

But dozens?

A chill ran down his spine.

Slowly, cautiously, his eyes trailed up.

Narrowing his eyes, he searched for something.

And found it.

Above him, smeared into the brown bark with that same viscous green ink, was another rune circle.

His body tensed.

But Mark forced his panic down.

Stop being curious. Stop being childish. You know what to do, stupid bastard.

Thinking to himself, his eyes sharpened.

He pushed himself up, ignoring the filth clinging to his robe. His hands no longer trembled.

And then he counted that for every ten withered trees within sight, at least five bore the same runes.

Someone—or something—had turned this entire section of the forest into a network of signal traps.

The moment his foot pressed against the roots hidden beneath yellowed leaves and dark soil, he knew he had already triggered them.

Mark’s expression hardened, and he rushed forward without hesitation.

Smart. Using the tree’s vitality to fuel the trap. No one will notice when a dying tree loses what little life it has left.

The thought passed through his mind, but he stayed focused on his goal. 

He noticed the rune circles were always drawn slightly higher than a person’s usual line of sight, likely to avoid being noticed at first glance. The tree ahead was no different.

This tree was no different.

However, this one had low branches.

Mark bent his knees and jumped, reaching for a branch, but his fingers barely brushed against the rough bark before he fell back to the ground. He scowled and tried again, only to fail once more. 

Clicking his tongue in frustration, he took a few steps back and took a deep breath.

After a moment, he dashed forward.

His feet kicked up dead leaves as he leaped again, finally grasping the branch.

Mark grunted, pulling himself up despite his weak arms trembling from the effort. 

His body was frail, but that didn't mean he would let it hold him back.

He climbed carefully, branch by branch, until he reached the rune. It was just slightly out of reach, forcing him to shift his weight. He steadied himself, gripping a higher branch with his left hand, then stretched his right arm as far as it could go. 

His fingers barely missed the rune.

Taking another deep breath, he adjusted his position again, standing on the narrow branch with one foot while using the other to support himself. The old tree creaked under his weight, its dying wood unfamiliar with carrying anything more than its own withering form.

Finally, his fingers touched the rune.

A smirk formed on his lips, but it vanished just as quickly.

The rune wasn’t just drawn. It had been carved into the wood.

Mark frowned as he studied it more closely. His fingers pressed against the etched grooves, against the green, viscous substance, and a faint acidic burn spread through his fingertips.

Maybe this is a blessing for me.

Still, he didn’t hesitate. He dug his fingers into the carved symbols, ignoring the growing sting as he applied pressure. The bark resisted at first, but he kept pushing, his nails breaking slightly as he tried to pry a piece loose.

His arms trembled as his irises darkened, black and purple light swirling within them.

If I just needed to carve it, I could have found a twig or a sharp rock. But right now, I only know one vessel that can properly channel mana.

His fingers darkened, shining an unnatural glow, and the bark cracked under the force.

Golden text flashed across his vision, causing his body to tense.

[Skill Learned: Lesser Mana Flow (F)]

[Mana Points: 300/300 → 280/300]

[Hit Points: 140/140 → 139/140]

Mark flinched, nearly slipping from the branch.

"Seriously? Show me this kind of thing when I’m not busy!" he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

His eyes squinted, refocusing on the rune. 

This time, he carefully guided his mana into his fingertips, forcing his blood to mix with the energy. The decayed wood weakened almost immediately, cracking further as he continued carving the adjustments he needed.

Mark was changing the runes slightly, controlling his mana to empower his blood.

The withered, wooden dying bark didn’t have a chance.

A few seconds passed as he slowly but carefully made the changes he wanted to.

Using a body again is… different.

Sweat dripped down his brow as he bit his lip, completely absorbed in his work.

Different, but… fun.

His smirk returned as he made the final alterations. He pulled himself closer to the tree, adjusting his position for better balance. Just as he was about to climb back down, something in the distance caught his eye.

His body stiffened.

A few trees away, four figures were approaching. Their movements were too quiet, too precise. He hadn't heard a single step. They walked across the dead leaves without making a sound.

Mark squinted, his breathing slowing as he studied them.

The creatures were small and hunched over, wearing nothing but tattered, bloodstained robes. Their greenish skin looked diseased, their bony fingers clutching rusted daggers. Two of them were bald, their heads covered in scars as they sniffed the air like animals. The other two had hoods, partially concealing their grotesque features.

Above their heads, glowing red text hovered in the air.

[Forest Goblin Scout (F)]

[Forest Goblin Scout (F)]

[Forest Goblin Scout (F)]

[Forest Goblin Scout (F)]

Mark’s heartbeat quickened. He pressed his back against the tree, muscles tense, and carefully slowed his breathing. He had no idea how sharp those creatures’ senses were, but the last thing he wanted was to test it.

So, he observed them.

And maybe, for the System, this meant he wasn’t busy anymore.

More golden text appeared before his eyes.

[Mana Points: 280/300 → 100/300]

[Hit Points: 139/140 → 90/140]

[Skill Level Up: Lesser Mana Flow (F) → Basic Mana Flow (E)]

[Skill Learned: Abyssal Engraving (B)]

Mark’s body jerked as the text flashed.

His foot shifted.

A creak echoed from the branch.

The goblins froze.

Four sets of glowing yellow eyes snapped upward, locking onto him.

A moment of silence stretched between them.

Mark’s face went blank.

“…Oh, shit.”

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