Creation system
Chapter 47: Dear mama

Chapter 47: Dear mama

"Greedy fuckers!" Mitch’s voice cracked with exhaustion as he spat onto the shield bearer’s headless corpse.

His hands trembled, whether from adrenaline or shock, he couldn’t tell. The acrid smell of torn flesh and blood still hung in the air from their desperate fight.

They had almost died. Again.

Mitch pressed a palm against his wound, healing it slowly. "Have you seen these bastards before, Leya?" He gestured toward the scattered bodies.

Leya leaned heavily against a charred tree trunk, her clothes torn, burnt, and bloodied.

Sweat beaded on her pale forehead as she struggled to catch her breath. "I’ve seen them in the city," she said between gasps.

"Their faces are familiar; they frequent the Drunken Griffin tavern, but I don’t know their names or backgrounds."

"Do you think we can catch the last one?" Mitch asked as he placed his hands over the gaping wound in his torso, channeling his meager healing magic.

Golden light flickered from his palms, knitting flesh together with agonizing slowness.

"I can barely stand," Leya admitted, sliding down the tree trunk until she sat on the forest floor.

"That fire pillar nearly cooked me alive. My mana reserves are completely drained." She studied his battered form with concern. "And somehow, you look far worse than I feel."

Mitch’s laugh came out as more of a wheeze. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his usually neat brown hair was matted with blood and dirt.

"Yeah... what’s that coward even going to do now? Scurry back to the city like a rat and hide in some hole?" His voice hardened with barely contained fury. "I’ll gut him if I ever see his face again."

"He’ll either go into hiding or flee to another city entirely," Leya said pragmatically, though her own anger simmered beneath the surface.

"I’ll report to the city lord when we return. They need to know about this ambush."

They spent the better part of an hour tending to their wounds in tense silence, the forest around them eerily quiet save for the occasional distant bird call.

Only when they could move without agony did they begin the grim task of looting their attackers’ remains.

[Tier 2 Frost Lance Ring - A masterfully crafted silver band adorned with intricate snowflake engravings. The metal itself possessed exceptional mana conductivity, making it a prized focus for ice magic. +5% damage enhancement to all ice-aspected spells. Active ability: Launch a devastating ice lance with the destructive power of a tier-two spell. Cooldown period: 12 hours.]

[Tier 2 Fire Pillar Ring - A gleaming silver ring decorated with flowing flame motifs that appeared to dance along the band’s surface. It boasted superior mana conductivity. +5% damage enhancement to all fire-aspected spells. Active ability: Summon a towering pillar of flame directly in front of the wielder, possessing tier-two spell potency. Cooldown period: 12 hours.]

[Tier 2 Earth Wall Bracelet - A sturdy bracelet carved from ironbark wood and inlaid with polished stone fragments. The natural materials resonated with earth magic. Active ability: Raise a protective barrier of solid earth from the ground. Cooldown period: 12 hours.]

[Tier 2 Iron Sword - A competently forged iron blade bearing the maker’s mark of a novice blacksmith. The weapon maintained excellent edge retention and structural integrity. A fire-aspected gem had been expertly socketed into the crossguard, its ruby facets pulsing with inner heat. Enhancement: +10% damage to all attacks, -8% mana consumption for fire-aspected sword skills.]

The remaining equipment, leather armor pieces, basic survival gear, and minor trinkets held little value beyond their resale potential in the city’s markets.

An idea sparked in Mitch’s tactical mind. "Wait," he said, picking up both the frost lance and fire pillar rings.

"What if I could swap these during combat? Imagine the versatility, ice lance to slow them down, then fire pillar to finish them off."

Leya shook her head before he’d even finished speaking.

"That’s impossible, and here’s why." She settled into her teaching tone.

"Every piece of enchanted equipment we wear forms a spiritual tether to our soul," she explained, absently touching the pendant at her throat.

"That’s why awakeners can only equip a limited number of magical items, our souls can only sustain so many concurrent connections without risking permanent damage."

Mitch knew that already.

She continued, "When you first put on an unbound trinket, the soul-link forms almost instantly.

But once you remove a bound item, that spiritual connection doesn’t simply vanish. It takes anywhere from twelve hours to a full day for the tether to completely dissipate."

"You could physically wear the new ring," she concluded, "but without an active soul-link, you can’t access its magical properties or stat bonuses.

It would be nothing more than expensive jewelry."

Mitch’s shoulders sagged in disappointment. "So that is why someone else couldn’t activate our items externaly."

"Exactly. Soul-binding is both our greatest strength and our most limiting constraint."

The realization stung, he’d thought himself clever, but countless awakeners before him had undoubtedly considered the same strategy.

The sword wasn’t as good as what they already had.

The earth wall bracelet seemed redundant to both of them, as they already possessed superior defensive enchantments.

After some discussion, Leya claimed the frost lance ring, replacing her fireball ring.

"The five percent ice damage bonus synergizes perfectly with my affinity," she reasoned.

She didn’t want to have more than one trinket with an attacking spell, if one spell can’t handle a threat, having two similar spells won’t make much difference. She’d rather have the stat boost for sustained combat.

Mitch nodded approvingly. The balance between active abilities and passive enhancements was crucial for survival.

In the shield bearer’s inner coat pocket, the man they’d presumed to be the group’s leader, they discovered a folded piece of parchment.

Mitch read aloud: "Two low-tier awakeners. Intelligence suggests they possess valuable tier-two equipment. The male target carries a tier-two sword and armor, female has a tier-two shield. Both appear to be warrior-class. Going to Forest’s army dungeon. Assessment: low danger, high profit. My contracted fee remains twenty percent of the total profit. Honor our agreement, or face the previously discussed consequences."

Unlike previous correspondence they’d intercepted, this letter bore no signature from the mysterious "M." The handwriting was different, too.

"Someone’s been watching us," Leya said grimly. "This was a planned ambush, not a random encounter."

They carefully preserved the letter as evidence, along with the intact heads of their attackers for identification purposes. Everything else went into their dimensional storage pouches.

Their search of the attackers’ belongings yielded five travel packs containing the usual assortment of survival gear.

More valuable were the healing potions, antidotes, and tier-one monster cores they’d collected.

The monetary haul totaled a disappointing 68 gold coins, a surprisingly meager sum for a five-person team of tier-two awakeners.

Perhaps they kept their real wealth secured in city banks or with their families.

At the bottom of one backpack, wrapped carefully in cloth, lay a child’s letter written sloppy:

"Dear Mama, I can’t wait to show you the present I made for your birthday! I’m already ten years old now, can you believe it? Grandmama takes good care of me and little Tam. We have plenty to eat since you started your adventuring work, and we even have medicine for Grandmama’s cough and Tam’s fever. Grandmama taught me how to write properly, see? I practice every day like you asked. I love you so much, and I miss you every night. Please come home safe. Your daughter, Elara"

The innocent words hit Mitch like a physical blow. His stomach lurched violently, and he barely managed to turn away before vomiting into the underbrush.

The partially digested remains of their morning meal splattered across the forest floor as his body rebelled against the realization of what he’d done.

"I’m a murderer," he whispered hoarsely, wiping bile from his lips with a shaking hand.

Leya moved to his side, her voice firm but gentle. "No, Mitch. You’re a good man caught in an impossible situation. They attacked us with lethal intent.

What did you expect us to do, lie down and let them hack us to pieces?" She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Try to think of them as monsters wearing human faces, not as people with families."

But Mitch couldn’t shake the image of a ten-year-old girl waiting for a mother who would never return. "What if we had found another way?" he asked desperately.

"What if we’d just wounded them, knocked them unconscious instead of...?"

"What if they’d recovered and come for revenge?" Leya countered.

"What if they’d tracked us to my brother in the city? What if my family paid the price for our mercy?" Her grip on his shoulder tightened. "We did nothing wrong, Mitch. We defended ourselves. That’s not murder, that’s survival."

Mitch stared at the letter in his trembling hands, the child’s careful handwriting blurring through his unshed tears.

He’d killed before since arriving in this brutal world, a few fellow awakeners who’d tried to rob them.

But somehow, it had never truly registered that these "monsters" had lives beyond their violence, families who loved them despite their crimes.

The weight of little Elara’s future pressed down on him like a mountain. Would she grow up bitter and broken?

Would she follow her mother’s path of violence? Or would someone else step in to care for her and her brother?

"It’s us or them," he finally said.

The cruel truth of this world had finally crystallized in his mind, every moment of mercy could be paid for with their own blood, or worse, the blood of innocents they cared about.

They packed up their camp and went back to the city.

The forest that had seemed so peaceful that morning now felt oppressive, every shadow potentially hiding another threat.

As they began the long trek back to the city, Mitch couldn’t shake the feeling that something fundamental had changed within him.

The naive idealism he’d carried from his old world was dying, replaced by the harsh pragmatism necessary for survival in this one.

But the letter remained folded in his pack, a reminder that even monsters could love and be loved in return.