Target: Godskin Noble Samuel
Race: Human
Level: 215
Attributes: Vigor 45, Mind 50, Endurance 40, Strength 40, Dexterity 40, Intelligence 13, Faith 56, Arcane 10
Skills: Tibia Combat (Master), Black Flame Incantations (Master), Aspects of the Crucible (Master)
Legendary Abilities: Destined Death (Unqualified/Stagnant)
Current Analysis Progress: 17.8% (Combat Memory Unlocked)
Next Milestone: 20%
Enter Memory Battle?
Luthier stared at the shimmering light in the center of his mind, his thoughts racing through a myriad of possibilities.
Just as he had summoned his own status, focusing his Mind on the second flickering star had manifested the data of the assassin he had incapacitated. Now, he finally had a name: Samuel.
The information was staggering. Samuel possessed enough power to suppress him entirely, yet he was only Level 215. This confirmed Luthier's suspicion: in this reality, once an attribute surpassed the soft caps of 60 or 80, the diminishing returns found in the game likely didn't exist. A gap of a hundred levels in the Lands Between represented a literal chasm in existential power.
Furthermore, the mention of Tibia Combat and the "unqualified" status of Destined Death caught his eye.
He remembered the Tibia Mariners from his past life—the skeletal boatmen who guided the lost. Legend said they once spanned the continent, but when the Golden Order established the Erdtree as the only "correct" way to die, those who served the older death rites vanished into the shadows.
"So the Mariners, the Godskins, and the Deathbirds... they all belonged to the same faction? All vassals of the Gloam-Eyed Queen?" Luthier pondered.
He recalled Greyoll's report of the other Noble's words. They didn't call her the "Gloam-Eyed Queen." They called her the Queen of Death.
The pieces clicked. The title "Gloam-Eyed" was likely a derogatory or descriptive name coined by the Golden Order historians after her defeat. Her true title was the Queen of Death, a sovereign whose war with Marika the Eternal had spanned centuries and defined the current boundaries of the world. Even in the later era of the Tarnished, the remnants of her cult—the Godskins and the Mariners—remained active in the most dangerous corners of the world. The goddess who had just brushed past his consciousness was a horror beyond measure.
As for the "unqualified" status of Destined Death, the reason was clear. The Queen had fallen to Marika's shadow, Maliketh the Black Blade, who had sealed the Rune of Death within his own flesh. Without their Queen's full power, the Godskins' Black Flame had faded from its true black-and-red form to a pale black-and-white mockery.
Luthier knew that if he had faced two Godskin Nobles in their prime, no amount of sedative would have saved his life.
There were no "ifs" in this world. There was only the present. He focused on the final line of the display.
Yes.
The sound of roaring fire filled the void. An eye-shaped sigil of black flame ignited in the darkness, and the massive frame of Samuel stepped forth. The porcelain-colored blade of the Godskin Stitcher whistled through the air as the Noble charged with terrifying speed.
Luthier met the charge. He summoned the twin Dragonscale tachis into his hands. His partial dragon form gave him a surge of primal ferocity. Ten paces from Samuel, he hammered his foot into the mirrored floor and launched himself forward like a silver bolt, his blades crossing in a lethal X-cut.
The collision rang out in two sharp, violent cracks. Samuel's arm jerked, and he was forced back half a step. His eyes widened with surprise; this dragonet was a mere hatchling, yet he had produced a burst of strength that rivaled his own.
Luthier, however, was hurled back three full steps. He tasted copper in his throat as the impact rattled his very core.
The exchange looked even, but it was a deception of Luthier's draconic heritage. Samuel was not only stronger but infinitely more skilled. In the instant their blades met, Samuel had used an Aspect of the Crucible to subtly elongate his wrist, striking the exact weak point of Luthier's guard. Samuel was unscathed, while Luthier's internal organs felt as though they had been struck by a siege ram.
"Heh, you're good. Truly," Luthier spat out a mouthful of blood and charged again.
He knew he couldn't win. From the moment the simulation began, he accepted his death. He wasn't here to win; he was here to forge his body in the fire of a superior foe and to push that mysterious "Analysis Progress."
He fought with a suicidal intensity, ignoring the shallow cuts that multiplied across his skin. He pushed his body to the absolute limit, forcing Samuel to reveal more of his mastery.
Nineteen moves later, Samuel's rapier punched through Luthier's heart. Black and white flames erupted from the Stitcher, reducing him to ash.
A second later, both dissolved into light. Luthier found himself back before the glowing screen, his body whole and his mind reeling. Samuel's data remained unchanged, but the Analysis Progress had crawled from 17.8% to 18.1%.
"Only that much?" Luthier's eyes widened. "Then how did it get to 17.8% before? Was it the sleep pot? Does a successful incapacitation count for more?"
He gritted his teeth and entered again. This time, he manifested an identical sleep pot and used his meta-knowledge to catch Samuel off guard, eventually ending the Noble with a blade to the throat.
When he exited, the progress sat stubbornly at 18.1%.
Cheating with the same trick wouldn't work. Over the next hour, he tried manipulating the environment and using different mental constructs. If he gained an unfair advantage, the progress stagnated. If he fought poorly, he was simply erased.
He was forced into the meat grinder. Over three more sessions, he lasted twenty-two moves at his best and only three at his worst before a Black Flame vortex claimed him.
The progress moved to 18.3%.
It was clear: without a genuine increase in his own combat ability, the analysis would hit a wall of diminishing returns. Grinding through sheer volume was useless.
"Sigh..." Luthier let out a long, weary breath. It felt like trying to use a cheat code in a game only to realize the developers had patched it out and were now mocking him.
Seeing that he couldn't reach the 20% milestone today, he dismissed the star representing Samuel. He performed one last check of the Memory Battlefield and then withdrew his consciousness.
The rhythmic rattling of the carriage wheels returned. Luthier pushed open the window. A sliver of dawn touched the horizon. The sky to the northeast was turning pale. Only a few minutes had passed in the waking world.
He inhaled the crisp morning air, feeling the tension leave his shoulders. Despite the frustration, he now had a path forward. He had a way to grow, a place to train, and a method to transcend his current limits.
As long as there was a way to get stronger, he could face the coming darkness. He was already in a position where retreat was impossible. Whether human or dragon, a man had to fight when backed into a corner.
"Highness, do you have a command?" Agheel asked, riding up to the window the moment it opened.
"How far to Karen City?"
Agheel checked the sky. "At this pace, four or five hours. We should arrive by noon."
"Good," Luthier said, stretching his rejuvenated limbs. "After last night, everyone must be exhausted. We will rest in Karen for the remainder of the day."
He looked out across the winding road. In the far distance, the towering, cloud-piercing silhouette of the Altus Plateau began to emerge from the morning mist.