The cavern stretched deeper into the unknown, crystalline veins casting a faint glow along the path. Robert ran his hand along the shimmering walls, their texture cool under his touch. The place's beauty struck him, but his mind buzzed with possibilities after the earlier battle. Confidence surged through him, fueled by his growing mastery of magic.
Hamish trailed behind, lugging the loot scavenged from the kobolds. He hefted a crude kobold spear, his face twisting in a dubious frown. "So I'm stuck with this toothpick while yer shootin' bloody magic spikes like it's second nature?" he muttered, his tone as sharp as the spear's jagged point.
Robert glanced back, smirking. "You could grab a couple of their knives. Dual-wielding is all the rage, or so I hear."
Hamish snorted. "Aye, maybe if I fancied meself a ninja or a 12-year-old boy. This'll have to do. But I'm not lettin' go of me shovel."
Robert nodded. "Smart choice. The shovel's gotten you this far, right?"
Hamish gave a mock salute, slinging the shovel over his shoulder with exaggerated pride. "Aye aye, Captain Thorn. Lead on. Can't wait to see what other hellish surprises yer glitter magic stirs up."
A faint chittering of kobold voices echoed from ahead as they neared a wider chamber. Stalactites hung from the ceiling like jagged teeth. Five kobolds skittered about, their yellow eyes glinting in the dim light. Robert slowed, raising a hand to signal Hamish to stop.
"Alright, here we go," Robert muttered, summoning a thorn spell. The energy formed quickly, the motion almost instinctive. He targeted a kobold darting unpredictably and fired. The spike missed as the creature twisted at the last second, embedding in the stone wall behind it.
"Fast little bugger," Robert growled, preparing another. Several kobolds scurried to the wall, their movements suggesting curiosity as they inspected the spike. One, slightly bolder, tugged at it. When the spike vanished, he tumbled backward, prompting shrill laughter from his comrades.
Moira's voice broke into Robert's mind, warm and steady. "Magic's not bound by rules, love. Think less physics, more instinct. Shape it, bend it, make it do what you want."
Her words sparked an idea. Robert paused, channeling his willpower into the spell. Instead of a straight shot, he visualized the thorn veering sharply, tracking the kobold. He released the spell, and it arced around a stalagmite, striking the fallen kobold's flank with a sickening crunch. The creature yelped, clutching its shattered ribs, then collapsed. Its companions froze, their shrieks fading as they glanced nervously at each other.
Moira's voice carried pride. "Clever boy."
Hamish, standing nearby, stared wide-eyed. "Ye just... bent that thing in the air. Bloody hell."
Robert's fingers tingled with the thrill of the spell's potential. He visualized another attempt, imagining the thorn splitting mid-air into two smaller spikes, like a thorny shotgun blast. He cast, and the spell obeyed, both spikes striking two kobolds at once, felling them instantly.
Hamish, shaking his head, muttered in disbelief. "I'm fightin' with a shovel while ye're inventin' magical weapons."
The remaining kobolds lunged in panic, claws bared. Hamish swung his shovel in a wide arc, sending one tumbling. Another leapt at Robert, claws outstretched, but he reacted swiftly, summoning a thorn that pierced its chest mid-air.
Hamish grunted, deflecting a spear with his shovel's flat, then swung upward with brutal force. "Oh yeah, this old man still has it," he muttered, though his eyes narrowed, suggesting frustration as Robert's glowing thorns downed another attacker.
When the last kobold fell, silence settled over the chamber. Robert crouched, placing his hand on the ground, curiosity driving him. Could he control more than thorns? He focused, and the dirt shifted with a faint tremor. Pebbles lifted, swirling briefly before falling. His chest tightened with exhilaration. He had done that. No tools, no machines, just his will and the earth's response.
"Do you know what this means, Hamish? Dirt! Rocks! I can move dirt!" Robert exclaimed, standing abruptly. "Do you realize how much easier this makes archaeology?"
Hamish gave a flat look. "Aye, yer the bloody king of dirt now. Grand."
Robert grinned. "Don't be thick. If there's treasure, I can uncover it. If there's danger, I can bury it. Earth obeys me! Imagine what I can do with experience."
Hamish frowned, his expression softening as if considering it. "Meh. Maybe."
The next chambers brought fewer surprises but steady danger. Kobolds lunged from shadows, their screeches cutting the air. Robert's growing confidence turned each fight into a dance of spellwork and strategy. Hamish fought with relentless vigor, his shovel an unlikely but effective weapon. At one point, he kicked dirt into a kobold's face before slamming the shovel into its chest with a rib-shattering thud.
"BAH!" Hamish huffed, venting frustration on a pair of kobolds. "Yer wee magic may be fancy, but nothing beats solid steel!" He brought the shovel's blade down with a satisfying BONG, felling both creatures one after the other.
In a side room off a long hallway, they found a sealed stone door with no handle. Robert, inspired by his earth connection, placed his hand on the stone and willed it to respond. The edges cracked, revealing a hidden mechanism—a rope holding a counterweight. Using a jagged kobold dagger, he severed it, and the door rumbled open.
The air inside felt dense, charged with ancient energy. A weathered book rested on a stone pedestal at the room's center, its cracked leather cover dark and frayed, yet radiating quiet power. Runes shimmered across its surface, shifting like living ink.
Hamish stepped back, eyeing the book warily. "Don't touch that thing, Robbie. Books like that scream curses."
Robert approached the pedestal, curiosity outweighing caution. Moira's voice whispered in his mind, gentle but certain. "This is no curse, Robert. This is knowledge, meant for you."
Robert lifted the book, its weight surprisingly light. As his hands touched the cover, energy surged through him, and the runes flared brightly. The room faded, replaced by visions of creatures dissolving into pure energy, their essence reshaping into tools, ingredients, and glowing tomes.
"What is this?" Robert murmured aloud.
Moira's voice was warm, filled with admiration. "This, my dear, is the skill of Essence Refinement. With this power, you can unweave defeated creatures, extracting every valuable aspect from them, meat, hide, magical organs, and even the skills they held."
Robert shared Moira's explanation with Hamish, who peered over his shoulder, face pale. "Yer tellin' me that book lets you turn monsters into... loot?"
Robert nodded slowly, flipping open the first page. The runes reshaped into readable text. "It's more than that. It's about efficiency. Nothing is wasted. Everything they were can become something useful!"
Hamish shook his head. "I'll never get used to yer bloody magic. Try it out on a kobold. Theres one back in the other room."
Robert closed the book, its runes settling into a faint glow. Understanding bloomed within him, as if the knowledge had taken root. Moira's voice returned, soft and proud. "You've taken your first step into mastery. Essence Refinement will serve you well, Robert. It will grow as you do. Right now, it's a Tier 1 special skill."
Robert's curiosity sharpened. "Tier 1? You mean this can... evolve?"
Moira's tone carried quiet reverence. "Indeed. Special skills like Essence Refinement are unique and incredibly rare. They imprint on the soul itself, not just the mind, and they follow laws older than magic itself. Unlike spells, these skills are part of the fabric of the universe, written into its deepest threads."
Robert absorbed her words. "So, what happens as it evolves?"
Moira explained gently. "As a skill increases in tier, so does its ability and functionality. Right now, as a Tier 1 skill, Essence Refinement allows you to unweave small creatures and monsters, extracting their components with precision, meat, hide, magical organs, and sometimes skill books or scrolls. But at higher tiers? It can be used on larger beasts, or even magical constructs, yielding rarer and more valuable rewards."
Robert let out a low whistle, his mind racing. "This could make us unstoppable."
Moira chuckled warmly. "It was once the pride of Clan Lamont. Their mastery of Essence Refinement brought them great power and wealth, allowing them to craft incredible artifacts and sustain their lands. It is a skill that commands reverence." She paused, then added softly, "When you carry this skill, you carry their legacy."
Pride and responsibility welled in Robert's chest. "Clan Lamont... I'll honor that legacy."
Moira's voice softened. "I know you will."
Hamish's voice cut in. "Well then, Captain Thorn, let's see yer new fancy skill in action. That kobold back in the hallway's not goin' anywhere."
Robert nodded, the book still warm in his hands. They retraced their steps to the chamber where they'd fought the kobolds. One body lay sprawled near the wall, illuminated by the crystal glow.
Robert crouched beside the kobold, the skill's weight pressing on his thoughts. He placed his hand on its chest, closing his eyes to focus. Moira's voice guided him softly. "Breathe deeply, Robert. Feel the threads of its essence. Imagine them unraveling, piece by piece."
As Robert concentrated, the kobold's body shimmered faintly. Its edges blurred, glowing as the skill activated. The creature dissolved into light particles, leaving a neatly bundled hide, gleaming ivory teeth, and a small pouch of coarse, shimmering dust.
Hamish let out a low whistle. "Well, I'll be damned. You've turned it into treasure. That's clean loot, too, no guts, no mess. Just... sorted like magic." He paused, then smirked. "Which I guess it is."
A rush of images flooded Robert's mind, vivid and disorienting. He staggered, glimpsing the kobold's life—small and eager, clutching a jagged spear, hearing a gruff voice bark: "Keep intruders out. Kill them. Eat 'em if you're hungry. Treasure goes to BigBoss." The memory shook him, a glimpse into a brutal existence. He kept it to himself, the weight feeling too personal to share. These creatures weren't mindless; they had purpose, however cruel.
Robert picked up the teeth and hide, slipping them into his jacket pocket. They felt clean, as if prepared by skilled hands. He then examined the pouch of dust, its faint shimmer catching the crystal light.
"What's that, then?" Hamish asked, stepping closer, shovel still gripped tight.
Robert untied the pouch, pinching the coarse dust between his fingers. It felt like fine sand laced with metallic flecks. "I'm not sure. But it feels... potent. Like it holds some kind of energy."
Moira's voice broke in, thoughtful. "That's arcane residue. It's rare, formed when magic suffuses a creature over time. It can be used to craft magical items or enhance spells. Hold onto it. It's far more valuable than it seems."
Robert nodded, tying the pouch and tucking it into his bag. "Good to know. We might need this later."
Hamish laughed shortly. "Arcane residue, eh? Sounds fancy. Sounds made up."
Moira's voice returned, steady and reassuring. "You've done well, Robert. Essence Refinement is as much about understanding as it is about resources. You're not just taking from them, you're learning from them. This will serve you in ways you can't yet imagine."
Robert resolved to use the skill as often as possible.