The burning artillery shells whistled through the air and splashed over the frozen wasteland in bursts of hissing steam.

“Shia Surprise!” A penguin popped up from the shell of the landing site, then vanished and repeated the action at the landing spot of the next shell. The overall effect blurred together until it sounded like the roar of a distant crowd all cheering for their favored team.

Chilly vanished in a flare of bright fire to dodge a projectile, landing smoothly and jogging backward as he saw the sky literally grow bright from the constant burning ballistics.

“You have done what you can.” The penguin patted Chilly on the thigh. “Rest and recover.”

Chilly nodded to the penguin and pushed back the budding sense of failure and exhaustion that threatened to crest over his self-control. He turned from the insurmountable wall of terror and began to briskly walk back towards the tall, distant mountain barely visible past the cerulean fog.

Chilly made good time. No longer actively searching for high-leveled monsters or worried about summoning the bosses, he simply blitzed across the frozen tundra with single-minded determination.

Every couple of seconds he Flame Dashed forwards. Gaining ground, and vastly increasing his pace of travel. After about fifteen minutes of travel, he crushed several of his accrued Regrets and reallocated several augments to improve Flame Dash.

With Primal Familiarity and Incendiary Resurgence, Flame Dash was already on a frighteningly low cooldown and cast time. He abused the fast turnover to its utmost, but his exhaustion compelled him to go further. It was slightly wasteful, but another two Regrets shifted his augments to include Arsonist and Jailer’s Patience. Together he gained another 90% increased area of effect which nearly doubled the range of his Flame Dash.

He blurred across the landscape, spending as much time teleporting as he did actively walking, and dodging around monsters and obstacles like they didn’t exist.

That wasn’t to say that he didn’t fight any monsters. There were simply too many of them not to collide on his direct path to Teluria. Most of the monsters were low leveled trash that burned up before he had even properly noticed their presence, but not all were like that. Around halfway through his trip, he spotted a level fifteen Wendigo leading a pack of lesser deer monsters.

The following battle had been short and therapeutic.

A penguin popped into existence to offer some sage advice:

“If you miss the sun, then buy it. Feed the void and make your wish. Ask for the sun. Revel in its radiance as it burns all before you.”

The words resonated with Chilly and confirmed what had become obvious ever since he had arrived in the dungeon. In this world - with its game-like skills, crafting, and combat systems - skills weren’t offered at random. They were curated. By who was anyone's guess. The penguins were a possibility, but it seemed like it was more likely a subconscious thing: The system simply gave you what you secretly, subconsciously desired or that somehow related to the challenges that you faced.

After the Juggernaut in the fire biome, he had been offered the Chains of Subjugation. The perfect skill to overcome that challenge. He wouldn’t be all that surprised if during the next skill choice he would be offered some kind of skill that would make tanking an army of weak foes trivial, or even some sort of upgrade that makes his army killing potential even higher.

But to ask for the sun? That wasn’t exactly what he wanted, was it? He didn’t want to see a sun. He wanted to see the sun. Controlling a miniature sun was badass, but the system would likely morph the pure desire into some sort of combat skill, tainting it irrevocably with the tension and fear of conflict. He didn’t love the sun. Not directly. He loved what it represented. The peace of early spring days. The relaxing warmth that it provided on long walks. How its very presence drove the seasons and the wind. How it fueled flowers and trees and grass...

Chilly smiled, as his thoughts wandered. He let the thought process dwindle, putting it on the back burner until the time when he was better rested to mull it over. The journey was long, and with Teluria still a blur on the horizon, he dismissed the level-up notifications. For now, he would shift his focus to moving as fast as he possibly could.

Through a gratuitous use of Flame Dash and a stubborn insistence on not resting, Chilly made his way to the bottom of Mount Teluria.

He didn’t pause at the base, simply continuing his brisk walk, coupled with constant Flame Dashes to scale the near-endless steps. By this point, he was physically and mentally exhausted beyond reason.

>

So instead of continuing to shamble up the stone steps he sat down, and relied solely on Flame Dash as his transportation. It was far less physically taxing but had a higher mental toll. Constantly activating the skill wasn’t difficult per se, but required him to focus, and after the thousandth casting, his mind was drifting. Still, his pace only slowed slightly, and before he knew it, he was making his way past the spring barrier, through the trees, and up the rickety ladder leading to the Telurian tree village.

Chilly stumbled upon a gruff Gar-Khan, and after a brief exchange of words, a bowl of soup was thrust into his hands, and he was led to an empty bed.

Chilly awoke feeling refreshed. He rose, still in his armor and stretched, a penguin appearing in his sight with a distinctive pop.

“Time is running out, the worms will be here soon”

Chilly’s lip curled involuntarily as the image of the Named Wendigo’s rotting stomach flesh resurfaced, but threw the blanket off and stood up. He only had four more resets to get to level nineteen to secure the barkeep’s aid, and time was a-wastin'.

“That purple worm in the bar is Gar-Khan spying on you. Keep your eyes open.”

Chilly froze mid-motion as he recalled what had happened the last time he had been here. He shot a glance at Mr. Birb, the first penguin’s words gaining new meaning.

“Thanks...for the chapter,” Chilly said.

Mr. Bean nodded, “good luck on your journey.”

Chilly scanned the room and after some careful scrutiny and some help from the available penguins he spotted a purple worm wriggling in the rafters. It was an amusing game, but he was not sure how much it actually mattered. It reminded him of searching for security cameras in clothing stores while his sister bought things.

Clearly, Gar-Khan didn’t trust him. Or was keeping tabs on him for some reason. That was...fine. Creepy. Sorta, but fine. What was he going to do? Bring it up to the big fella and risk getting kicked out of the village? Nah. Gar-Khan seemed like the type of guy—alien, that would just nod as if it was the most normal thing in the world, and then give some inane advice about how having Big Brother watching was good for moral development or some other nonsense.

Chilly gave the worm a cheerful nod, then ducked out of the treehouse. He made his way over to Rahlin’s bar for breakfast, as well as directions on getting some supplies. As he walked through the boughs of the trees he noticed that his ground effect skills were drawing attention. That was expected, really. They were flashy skills that covered a big radius.

As he looked around, however, he realized that none of the other residents had on-display such prominent skills. The only permanent effects that he could spot were some magical-looking articles of clothing here or there. Kind of like his cape. Just one more mystery about this place.

He shouldered his way into Rahlin’s bar. It was as crowded as it was last time. As in, barely full, with a bunch of mostly drunk Warforged and Dragonborn sprawled haphazardly around the room. Around...tables. Chilly sighed and gingerly stepped around them on his way to the bar. He would need more influence to get rid of them all.

“The prodigal son returns!” A gruff voice came from the backroom, as Rahlin pushed through the swinging doors, an empty wooden tankard in his meaty digits. “I thought you’d become some undead the way you were shambling about yesterday!”

“Not dead yet, Rahlin.” Chilly smiled, “Almost got me, but it’ll take more than an army of Wendigos and shrimp to take me down.”

“The Named one’s doing?”

Chilly paused, “Yeah, how’d you know? I thought you guys chalked them up to myths and legends?”

Rahlin grunted, then stepped to the swinging door. “Chaeli! Bring in some breakfast for one, will you?”

“Bring it yourself, you old bum!” Chaeli’s petulant voice rang from the back room.

Rahlin chuckled but stepped back towards Chilly. “Aye. Named ones are a thing. Rare as a crystal slime on the surface, but here in a dungeon? There is so much conflict that they can happen. Don’t worry about it. We sent word to Cankerton, and they’re gonna come ‘ere with some of their elites to clear it out.”

Chaeli slammed the swinging doors open with a bowl of steaming stew in her armored gauntlet. She shot one glance at Chilly and her entire body language slumped darkly, then stomped over and slammed the bowl of stew in front of him. Almost a quarter of the hot stew spilled onto the bar in a wet mess.

Chilly winced, “Thanks, Chaeli.”

She huffed and vanished into the back room without a word.

“I’ll put it on your tab.” Rahlin chuckled again, gesturing to the soup. “Just keep away from Named, and in a week or two, it’ll be taken care of. Even a Named monster can’t stand up to a party five levels above it.”

Chilly sighed, and gingerly pulled the bowl closer to him. He picked the wooden spoon out of the stew and took a sip. His eyes closed, savoring the taste as his taste buds exploded. Real food. It was heavenly.

“It’s level seventeen last I saw it. If that helps.”

“Mhm, good intel. Though I don’t think you should be facing it mono a mono if you get my drift. Especially if it’s higher level than you.”

Chilly shrugged. “It won’t fight me. Dunno why. It’s just collecting monsters and throwing them at me. Still tough, but my abilities are kinda uniquely suited to take out armies. I would have probably been able to push right past the barricade it's got built at the end of the Frozen Wastes but I got too tired and hungry to continue.”

Rahlin filled himself a tankard of amber beer from one of the kegs. “Bloody Named. A barrier you say? Was it near the Wyrm Tunnels or the Spires?”

“Spires I suppose. Big red crystals. Tall. Standing beyond a cliff.”

“That’s the Spires alright.” Rahlin took a swig. It was a little early in the morning for a drink in Chilly’s opinion, but it was a bipedal lizard. Different customs were expected. “You be careful when you go in there. There’s no ground beneath your feet to stand on.”

Chilly froze with the spoon half raised to his mouth. “No ground?” he squeaked.

Rahlin chuckled at his expression. “All ocean. As far as the eye can see. It's deep too, so unless you’re a Warforged it's tough as nails to fight in that zone.”

“I assume...the Warforged just...sink?”

Rahlin nodded, “We mortals gotta breathe, unfortunately.”

Chilly shook his head at the injustice of it all. “I’ve been meaning to ask. I’ve got a load of super flashy skills. Why don’t other people have them? Why isn’t the village lighting up with them?”

“Inconvenience mainly,” Rahlin said. “We don’t really encourage the young ones to choose such skills ‘round here. Makes living peacefully difficult later. Without Gar-Khan making this place a proper settlement, your little embers would light this place up like a torch.”

“There really is no way to turn off skills?”

“Not unless you use suppression gear.” Rahlin replied, “but that stuff's nasty, and expensive to boot.”

Chilly grunted, finishing up the soup. It was a shame, but it didn’t seem all that bad. He had already gotten used to having little crucifixes floating around him, and the faint glow had actually become a source of comfort during the night.

“I’m going to need some supplies if I’m going to complete your challenge. Bag with food, new gear. A bedroll if you can spare it. Do you have an armorsmith in the village I could make use of? My gear is a little outdated to be fighting level fifteens and sixteens.”

“I can get you travel rations if you give me an hour or two, though for armor you’re gonna need to knock on Old Man Joe’s door.” Rahlin cleaned off his mug, sweeping Chilly’s bowl away, and wiping off the spilled soup with a rag in the same motion. “Just follow the sound of complaining, and you’ll be golden.”

Chilly frowned, but nodded and stepped away. Before he could step out though, Rahlin called him back and handed him a large wine bottle.

“You’ll be needing this,” Rahlin said, patting Chilly on the shoulder. “Good luck.”

Chilly stood before a particularly ragged hut, nestled on top of a wizened oak. He squared his shoulders and rapped three times on the door.

A harsh crash of broken pottery echoed from behind the door, quickly followed by a stream of cursing in a sibilant language that Chilly was not familiar with. More crashes and the sounds of furniture getting shoved out of the way sounded, and Chilly grew more and more apprehensive until the door slammed open to reveal a wizened old Dragonborn with a walking stick in one scaled hand.

“What!” the old Dragonborn barked, his cane rapping sharply against the floorboards. A wave of concentrated old person body odor wafted from behind him.

“Uh, hi?” Chilly started, recoiling a little at the pungent aroma.

“Thanks for the chapter. Remember, breathing is optional!”

“Well?” The old Dragonborn asked, “Who’re you? What’dyou want? Why’re you ‘ere?”

“Uh, right,” Chilly said, regaining his composure. “Are you Old Man Joe? I heard that you can get me some new armor.”

Old Man Joe’s slitted eyes narrowed dangerously, “The new human child. I remember. I was expecting you.”

“Oh, cool—”

“For three days I was expecting you. Ever since you and your silly little lights waltzed into our village. I waited, and waited, but the poorly clothed human never showed up.”

“Oh, well I’m here now!” Chilly said with a grin. “May I...come in, then?”

“No!” the Dragonborn said, “Go away.”

The door slammed shut with a crack. Chilly stared at it for a second in confusion, then rapped three more times on the door.

The door slammed open.

“What!”

Chilly proffered the bottle of wine that Rahlin had given him. “Can I trade you this bottle for some armor?”

Old Man Joe’s eyes lit up, “Yes, yes. Come in. Give me that. Follow me, and don’t touch anything.”

Chilly stepped into the old man’s abode, lacking a bottle of wine, but otherwise victorious. The inside of the house was a catastrophic mess, but Old Man Joe navigated the mess as if it was normal, so Chilly refrained from commenting. He led Chilly to a set of stairs leading up, which creaked horribly, but opened up into a long hallway with a dozen sets of armor displayed prominently on armor stands.

“Eh, choose one.” The old Dragonborn gestured carelessly as he popped open the cork on the bottle and took a long swig.

Chilly hesitated, “I thought you would be a smith or crafter or something.”

“Why would I waste good essence making more armor, when I’ve got a proper set just sitting ‘ere?”

Chilly blinked then shrugged. The Dragonborn had a point. A quick scan of the armor sets revealed that they were mostly level sixteen with some lower leveled pieces mixed in.

“Would you be able to craft me a set for when I hit level nineteen? Or lend me a set I suppose.”

“What?” Old Man Joe took another deep swig from the bottle.

“Nevermind,” Chilly muttered, approaching the armor sets.

Many of the pieces were organized into sets of matching pieces. All Steel, or Aredrite, with even one beautiful set composed entirely of Etherium, the chaos resistance base type. Each set had a theme associated with it. Either it was resistance, life, or in one particular case a complete focus on buffing Incinerate, of all skills.

“May I mix and match the armor?” Chilly asked, but when he looked back the old Dragonborn was gone.

He shrugged and began to pick a couple of choice pieces off the walls and arrange them on the floor. There were many choices to make. Cold resistance or Fire? The Wendigos’ dealt hybrid cold damage, but he was entering the Spires which were more Fire based. On the other hand, he had Starfire Aegis for resistance on that front. Life seemed like the safest option. It scaled his abilities the hardest and would provide defense against any damage type that he would encounter.

There were actually surprisingly few shields as well. Most of the gear sets had weapons and it really opened Chilly’s eyes to the possibilities. Many of the gear increased damage by a lot, but also provided secondary effects such as increased area effect or in one particularly interesting case provided a weakening effect on hit.

Chilly passed over the weapons, however. More damage was appealing, but his current setup worked. It worked well, and holding weapons to bonk monsters to weaken them seemed a little silly. Also, a lot of his abilities scaled off his maximum life, and one thing that none of the weapons had was life.

When he was fully satisfied, he arrayed the gear and looked over it all.

Living Steel Helmet

Rare

Helmet

iLevel: 16

159 life

162 life

20.68% increased life

34 armor

15.47% increased armor

Aredrite Plate Vest

Rare

Body Armor

iLevel: 16

32 cold resistance

158 life

28.31% increased life

33 cold resistance

8.82% increased cold resistance

Living Steel Tassets

Rare

Pants

iLevel: 16

154 life

175 life

15% of damage from hits is recouped as life over 4 seconds

41 cold resistance

11.00% increased cold resistance

Living Steel Greaves

Rare

Boots

iLevel: 16

168 life

144 life

22.95% increased life

21.00 life regeneration

12.45% increased life regeneration

Steel Gauntlets

Rare

Gloves

iLevel: 16

41 armor

133 life

50 armor

18.52% increased armor

99 hinder resistance

Living Steel Buckler

Rare

Offhand

iLevel: 16

148 life

143 life

30 cold resistance

11.80% increased cold resistance

71 chill resistance

Living Steel Kite Shield

Rare

Offhand

iLevel: 16

133 life

165 life

20.23% increased life

39 armor

17.97% increased armor

Chilly shook his head at the absolute treasure trove arrayed before him. He felt like a right fool having run off to fight the monsters without even asking for a gear upgrade. It seemed too much. Like he couldn’t possibly accept this gift. It was likely just an old set that wasn’t currently being used, but it still had value. It felt like accepting this would put him deeply into debt. Debt that he wouldn’t ever be able to repay.

The armor was only on lease for now. Once he out-leveled it, he would be sure to return it to Old Man Joe and thank him somehow. Maybe once he helped Sooty then he could farm the Frozen Wastes for essences and provide the old Dragonborn a truckful of the stuff as compensation.

Shaking off the thoughts, Chilly shucked off his current armor and put on the exquisite, clean set. Then with a small amount of trepidation, he opened his status.

Gregory “Chilly” Morhuil

Level

Exp

Skill Points

Spec

16

0/16

0

Baelfire

Life

Life Regeneration

5353/5353

1418.91

Armor

Fire

Cold

Lightning

Chaos

299

74.94%

151

60.16%

199

66.56%

0

0.00%

0

0.00%

Incinerate

Helmet:

Living Steel Helmet

Vitality

Body Armor:

Aredrite Plate Vest

Pious Path

Pants:

Living Steel Tassets

Starfire Aegis

Boots:

Living Steel Greaves

Flame Dash

Gloves:

Steel Gauntlets

Chains of Subjugation

Jewelry:

Iron Ring

Smoldering Embers

Mainhand:

Living Steel Kite Shield

Mutagenic Engine

Offhand:

Living Steel Buckler

Chilly stared at the sheet in disbelief. His life had doubled. More than doubled. His life regeneration had done something similar. Only his resistances had kinda gotten shuffled around with no clearly massive boost. Fire resistance had fallen dramatically while cold and armor had risen to compensate. Lightning was now totally gone, but that was...fine. He was not fighting any lightning monsters and he didn’t plan to anytime soon.

“I’m such an idiot...” Chilly murmured, a hand clasping his jaw in disbelief. “At least...At least, I should be able to fight that Wendigo now.”