Evelyn felt relieved when Chloe stopped questioning her about the past. There was nothing more to say, nothing she could do to change it. She loathed herself for her weakness, for not being strong enough to save her family. When she first chose the healer class, it was out of a desire to protect them, to mend their wounds and keep them safe. But as the system evolved, so did her class—becoming the Evasive Healer, a choice born of her love for running, for freedom in motion.
Now, her patron seemed determined to nudge her down a path she didn’t want—a path of pure healing, shackling her to others, leaving her entirely dependent on teammates for survival. The thought made her stomach churn. No, that wasn’t the kind of healer she wanted to be. Revenge burned in her heart, dark and all-consuming. Evelyn yearned to see the witch who had destroyed her family groveling at her feet, begging for mercy—a mercy that would never come.
But her current class wasn’t fit for vengeance. She knew it. And yet, despite weeks of deliberation, she hadn’t found the courage to act. Level 80 loomed close, the gateway to evolution, and still she hesitated. Her indecision strained her bond with her patron, the goddess Isis, who grew increasingly frustrated with Evelyn’s refusal to heed her advice. Worse, Isis was the wife of the Mage God who blessed Sylas—a situation that tied Evelyn even more tightly to her patron’s demands.
"Assist Sylas," Isis had commanded time and time again. "Your classes are complementary. You belong in his party."
But Evelyn wanted nothing to do with Sylas and Kael or his group of elite fighters. What had happened to Thalion, the drama and betrayal within their ranks—it left a bitter taste in her mouth. She and Kargul were much happier assisting Eddie and Chloe in their search for their missing friends. Friendship mattered more to Evelyn than any divine command, and no friend would be left behind. Her defiance enraged Isis, but Evelyn no longer cared. Why not renounce this controlling goddess altogether? Maybe another god would take her in—a better one, one who understood her pain and thirst for vengeance.
As these thoughts churned in her mind, Evelyn sat on a wide tree branch, staring out at the savanna. The brown leaves before her danced in the breeze, their fragile movements stark against the distant roar of battling beasts. It was almost peaceful, in its way. She remembered something Eddie had said once: “You’ve got to stay true to your path, no matter how rough it gets.”
Her path wouldn’t be one of standing on the sidelines, watching her friends fight for their lives while she cast heals or summoned barriers. No. It was time to choose, time to break free. Evelyn inhaled deeply, steadying herself as she reached out to contact her patron. This time, the conversation would be on her terms.
The skill activated, and her consciousness was transported to Isis’s divine domain. She appeared in a sprawling, blooming garden, its plants resembling tall, majestic white sunflowers adorned with runes on their leaves. The air hummed with magic, and at the garden’s heart stood Isis, radiant and imposing. The goddess wore a flowing white tunic that only enhanced her ethereal beauty. If Evelyn ever aged into such grace, she hoped she’d carry it differently—with more substance, less vanity. She’d never be the kind of god who lorded over her chosen like an untouchable queen.
“Why have you come?” Isis’s voice was as melodic as ever, but her tone carried the weight of irritation. “Have you finally come to your senses? Are you returning to Sylas and the others?”
“Yes,” Evelyn lied smoothly, masking her true intentions. “We’re on our way back to Kael’s base.”
The goddess didn’t even bother to look at her, her gaze fixed on a distant horizon as if Evelyn were nothing more than a passing annoyance.
“Good. It’s about time you followed the orders of your superiors.” Isis’s tone softened, taking on a saccharine sweetness. “Now, listen carefully. I will explain how to upgrade your healing spell—not just once, but multiple times.”
Evelyn listened intently, committing every word to memory. The goddess spoke for what felt like hours, detailing advanced techniques for mana control and spell enhancement. Every word was a gift she would take with her when she left this meddling deity behind.
Finally, Isis concluded with a self-satisfied smile. “I expect to hear from my husbands avatar that you’ve joined Sylas’s party before our next meeting,” she said, her tone dripping with condescension.
Evelyn said nothing. The moment Isis finished speaking, Evelyn’s consciousness withdrew, snapping back into her physical body. Not a single second had passed in the real world. Without hesitation, she opened her status screen, her finger hovering over the reject blessing button.
Blessed could renounce their patrons within the first year. After that, it became far more difficult. That shouldn't be one of her concerns though.
With a deep breath, Evelyn pressed the button. Pain ripped through her body as the connection to Isis shattered. Blood seeped from her eyes and ears, a visceral reminder of the bond she had just severed. But even through the agony and weakness, she smiled—a small, defiant smile.
Freedom had never felt so sweet.
“What happened?” Chloe exclaimed in shock as she saw Evelyn slump forward for a moment, her body trembling as though she'd just endured a fierce blow.
“Nothing,” Evelyn replied, her voice calm but slightly breathless. “I healed myself. Now I’m stronger.” A faint glow still lingered on her hands, the aftereffect of her healing spell.
In terms of stats, “stronger” was a lie. In fact, she’d lost a significant amount, but none of that mattered now. Evelyn’s lips twitched in a small, defiant smile. She had kept the skills she’d acquired from her goddess, losing only the stats tied to the ancient blessing. Was rejecting an ancient blessing foolish? Absolutely. But for Evelyn, it was the best decision she had ever made.
For the first time in this tutorial, she felt truly free. Free to shape her destiny, to move forward without the crushing weight of divine expectations. There were no barriers, no invisible hands steering her fate. She could finally pursue the power she needed—a power not just for healing or running, but for vengeance.
The thought of Cathrin, the witch responsible for her family's destruction, sent a shiver of anticipation through Evelyn. Killing her wouldn’t just be an act of revenge. It would be a liberation, a reckoning. Healing and running had served her well, but now Evelyn was ready for the other side of the coin—the edge that cut, the force that shattered. And she would find it, no matter what it took.
<--
“All lightning mages, fire!” Thalion’s voice rang out, clear and commanding, as he gestured to the nearly one hundred mages gathered in the training hall. His lips curled into a broad grin as he gazed at the enormous wind crystal—twenty meters wide—standing at the center of the room like a slumbering titan.
The hall buzzed with anticipation as the mages unleashed their spells. Arcs of lightning crackled through the air, striking the crystal’s shimmering surface with deafening force. The spells seemed to explode on contact, sending bursts of light and energy outward, though faint streaks of electricity clung stubbornly to the crystal’s core.
Thalion watched intently, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. How long would it take to turn this massive wind crystal into a storm crystal? He’d been dreaming of this moment, imagining the power such a transformation would unlock.
When the crystal didn’t respond as quickly as he’d hoped, Thalion decided to take matters into his own hands. His body shimmered, shifting effortlessly into his eagle form. Dark green feathers rippled with latent energy as he hovered midair, wings spread wide. A bolt of lightning crackled between his horns as he charged up a focused lightning beam.
The blast hit the crystal with a sharp crack, energy rippling across its surface like waves on water. Still, the core remained unchanged. Thalion frowned, his mind already working through the implications. This thing is tough, he thought. Maybe too tough for this method. Why not just use it for cultivation, until it was fully changed?
The idea brought a sharp glint to his eye. Without hesitation, Thalion landed atop the crystal, his claws clicking against its smooth surface. Lightning crackled faintly around him, some of the stray spells still grazing his body, but he barely flinched. If anything, the stray strikes only added fuel to his resolve.
He closed his eyes, drawing in a steady breath. The storm around him was wild, untamed, but that was exactly what he needed. Slowly, methodically, he began to harmonize with the raging energies. This was the first stage of the Tempest Beast transformation—a delicate balance between power and control.
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Hours slipped by. The crystal began to change, its core shifting from pale blue to a roiling gray, like storm clouds captured in stone. Lightning danced within it now, alive and feral. By the time the process was complete, the mages were exhausted, their mana reserves nearly drained. Thankfully, the intricate magic circles etched into the training hall floor had prevented them from collapsing outright.
Thalion raised a wing, signaling the mages to stop. “Good work, everyone,” he called out, his tone warm but commanding. “Your efforts have been invaluable.”
With a flick of his talon, he activated Zyra’s rune, storing the newly transformed storm crystal in his spatial ring. But Thalion wasn’t done. He turned to the group of fifteen warriors standing nearby, their weapons crackling faintly with energy.
“Your turn,” he said with a grin. “I could use a bit more tempering.”
The warriors exchanged glances, but none hesitated. They unleashed their attacks, arcs of lightning slamming into Thalion with relentless force. His feathers burned, singed black by the intensity, but the pain was a small price to pay.
Through the agony, Thalion grinned, his body soaking in every strike like a dry sponge in a storm. The connection to the outsider flooded him with vitality, healing his wounds almost as quickly as they appeared. Still, the strain was immense.
The hours blurred together as the warriors pelted him over and over. By the time they were done, Thalion’s horns were brimming with stored energy, so much so that he could fire a lightning beam without charging it. Yet he didn’t. Why waste this precious energy on an attack when it could be used for tempering?
Finally, he signaled the warriors to stop. His body trembled as he pushed the lightning deeper into his muscles, bones, and feathers. The process was excruciating, but by the end, he felt more attuned to lightning than ever before. His wind affinity might have fallen behind, but that was a problem for another day.
As he walked through the streets of the city, Thalion noticed the subtle changes in how people reacted to him. Some smiled, others bowed—a few too enthusiastically. He didn’t mind the adoration, though he couldn’t quite grasp the nuances of their emotions. Was it fear? Respect? Something else entirely? Thalion shrugged. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter that much. As long as they were not out to kill him all was good.
His destination lay ahead: Lucan’s smithy. Descending into the basement, Thalion approached the formation they used to shrink crystals. A powerful hum filled the air as mana threads wrapped around the storm crystal, tightening with each pulse. Moments later, the enormous crystal had been reduced to the size of a small football, its energy condensed but no less potent.
Thalion studied it, his gaze sharp. He would implant this crystal into his chest eventually—though not today. His wind affinity needed to catch up first, and the thought of slicing open his own chest, even with the outsider’s healing, wasn’t something he was eager to face just yet.
Still, the day would come. And when it did, Thalion would rise, not as a mere tempest beast, but as something far greater.
This was a necessary step—an unyielding part of his journey to one day become a wyvern. There was no way around it. Yet, Thalion wasn’t aiming for just any wyvern transformation; he sought to become a high-rarity wyvern, one powerful enough to ascend to a dragon in time.
Thalion had never cared much for money or material wealth on Earth. His focus had always been elsewhere, driven by an obsession with strength rather than possessions. Every natural treasure he discovered here was another brick in the foundation of his growing power. The only downside was the low quality of the F-grade treasures he’d been gathering. Soon enough, they would become irrelevant, and the relentless cycle would begin anew as he stepped into E-grade.
Still, his mood was light as he walked back to his tower. This week had been exceptional. Progress in his cultivation came faster than expected, and he’d secured a major boost for Eagly. Meanwhile, Lucan had been working tirelessly, crafting weapons with feverish dedication to enhance his class before the upcoming evolution.
Building teleportation circles was at the top of Lucan's list after the evolution to E grade. A project crucial for farming ocean pearls needed for the tidecaller serpent. The process for the serpent would mirror what he had done for Eagly—slicing open his chest and embedding a powerful crystal inside. Thalion smirked at the thought. Convincing water mages to help charge the crystal wouldn’t be effective; water lacked the invasive power of lightning. A better plan was to gather a team of water mages and shapeshifters to harvest as many pearls as possible.
With over 15,000 people now in the base, including more than a hundred shapeshifters in need of water forms, striking a deal should be easy. Thalion could simply command them to help, but building goodwill suited him better—and it wouldn’t cost him a thing.
Reaching his basement, Thalion checked on the crystals embedded in the Pillar of Fear. Almost complete. A satisfied grin spread across his face. Once these crystals were fully converted, he would use them to upgrade his armor, just as he had with his blade. This would be a major boost to his power in human form, and the experimentation itself filled him with excitement. He relished the challenge of fine-tuning the process.
The system shop’s arrival loomed on the horizon, but for now, it was time for strength training. Stepping onto the gravity array, Thalion prepared to push his limits once again.
<--
Cathrin stalked through the dense jungle of the fifth stage, her sharp gaze darting between the shadows. Lucius and the orc Groomash flanked her, their weapons ready as they navigated the hostile terrain. The humid air clung to her skin, but she barely noticed. Here, amidst the chaos and danger, it was easiest to spread her blood curse.
Her thoughts wandered to Evelyn. That little girl is probably dead by now, Cathrin mused, a cold smile tugging at her lips. “Just a healer,” she scoffed. “And not even a strong one.” A single unlucky encounter in this brutal world would have been enough to finish her off.
The memory of Evelyn’s family flashed in her mind, drawing a surge of satisfaction. One by one, Cathrin had killed them—slowly, methodically, savoring every moment. Those were among the best days of her life. The idea of finding Evelyn again, of breaking her spirit entirely, brought a gleam of twisted excitement to Cathrin’s eyes.
Few truly understood Cathrin’s capabilities. The undead underestimated her, dismissing her as just another witch. Fools. A witch was one of the best ways to farm experience in this world. She had already performed countless rituals in her room, empowering beasts with her blood curse and binding their minds to her will. Every time one of her cursed beasts killed, she gained experience.
With hundreds of creatures under her control, the results were staggering. Unfortunately, the beasts infected in the lower stages no longer granted her experience, but that hardly mattered now. At level 80, Cathrin had already been preparing for weeks to achieve the most powerful evolution possible. Her goal wasn’t just mythical—it was to surpass even that.
Her legendary blessing from the Blood Witch Morgana offered immense potential, and Cathrin planned to exploit it fully. Morgana, though not undead herself, maintained close ties to the vampires, making Cathrin a valuable ally in their eyes.
Cathrin’s fingers brushed against a blood-stained charm hanging from her belt, and her expression softened into a smile—almost nostalgic. She remembered the moment she received her blessing vividly. Teleporting to the next stage after a grueling trial, her reward had been Morgana’s approval. The memory those family’s screams still lingered sweetly in her mind.
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Those screams were her symphony. Pain and desperation from others filled her with a joy she never let show. Back on Earth, she had worked for the police, delivering death notifications with an impeccable mask of sympathy. She’d cherished every tear, every cry of anguish.
Here, in this new world, the system and her patron allowed her to express that part of herself without restraint. Guiding the blood curse into her victims, paralyzing them while inflicting excruciating pain, became her art. The rituals were just as thrilling, though they demanded preparation and materials.
The system shop would arrive soon, and Cathrin intended to use it to her full advantage. Stronger ritual stones were at the top of her list. If she could construct an entire formation rather than relying on the crude blood circles she’d drawn, she would gain far more control over her cursed beasts.
Cathrin’s plan was clear. With the entire stage cursed, spotting survivors would be trivial. The living wouldn’t stand a chance against her army. If they thought the fourth stage was hard, they had no idea what awaited them in the fifth.