NOVEL ONLINE FREE Chapter 5: Chapter 5 – Patch the Wounds
The sun had dropped low behind Ashveil's walls, bleeding gold across the broken freight path.
Auther sat beside the feral hound's cooling corpse, pressing a wad of old cloth to his bleeding thigh. The sting was sharp. Numbness had started to creep up his leg, and his ribs ached with every breath.
Pain was grounding. It reminded him he was alive — barely.
He glanced at his forearm. Blood had matted into his sleeve, torn open from the creature's first bite. His shirt was ruined, and if the wound got infected… well, he didn't have the luxury of a clinic.
"I need a healing skill," he muttered.
He pulled open the Skill Creation Menu.
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[Create Skill]
Type: Passive/Active Hybrid
Name: Rapid Regeneration
Description: "Allows user to regenerate from any injury within seconds, restoring lost limbs and organs. Uses ambient mana to reconstruct tissues."
[Estimated Rank: A] – Cost: 5,450 Points
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He blinked. "Of course."
Next.
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Name: Basic Healing Pulse
Description: "Consumes internal mana to heal all injuries rapidly, closing wounds and replenishing lost blood. Purifies toxins. Stops bleeding instantly."
[Rank: B] – Cost: 1780 Points]
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Still way too high.
He let out a slow breath, staring at the system window. Every word carried weight — instantly, purifies, reconstructs — that's what drove the cost up.
What he needed wasn't instant recovery. Just something to help him stay upright and stop the bleeding long enough to survive.
He began chiseling the description down like a sculptor trimming stone.
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Attempt #4
Name: Lesser Flesh Knitting
Description: "Accelerates natural healing slightly. Minor wounds close faster. Blood loss slows. Pain is dulled. Effect increases with skill growth and rank."
[Rank: F4 – Cost: 10 Skill Points]
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Auther read it again, then nodded.
"It'll do."
He selected confirm.
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[Skill Created: Lesser Flesh Knitting (F4)]
[Skill Points Remaining: 40]
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Warmth pooled in his body — not like casting a spell, not sudden — but subtle. Like a blanket settling across his bones.
The bleeding in his leg slowed. The sharp edge of pain dulled to an ache. His breathing steadied.
It wasn't dramatic. But it was real.
He leaned back against a broken pole and let out a long, shaky breath.
---
[Skills:]
Silent Star Breathing (F5)
Mana Edge (F3)
Fighting Mastery (F3)
Lesser Flesh Knitting (F4)
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Auther stared up at the pale, cracked sky.
So this was it.
The path to power.
It didn't begin with trumpets and glory. It began with bleeding into the dirt and scrambling to make a healing skill that worked just enough.
"I nearly died to a F1 beast," he muttered. "One step out of the walls and I'm already on the brink."
He wasn't disappointed. He wasn't angry.
He was hungry.
Not for food.
But for points. For strength. For growth.
He understood now — the cost of getting stronger.
Not just in skill points… but in risk. In blood.
---
Skill Creation was limitless — yes — but limits didn't come from the system. They came from him. From his current mana pool, his creativity, his precision. From the points he earned with real kills.
If he wanted to create stronger skills — transformation types, elemental attacks, summons — he'd need hundreds of points. Thousands, maybe.
And he only had one way to get them.
"Kill things stronger than me."
The thought settled into him like steel cooling in water.
No shortcuts. No farming trash. If he killed weaklings, he gained nothing. But if he challenged himself — took risks, bet his life — the system would reward him.
He glanced at his surroundings.
Even this close to the city, there were ferals. Weak ones, sure. But if there were F1s, there might be F2s deeper in.
He couldn't go far. Not yet. But he could hunt the outskirts. Practice. Fight smarter. Keep creating affordable, scalable skills until he was ready to climb.
He stood, wincing slightly as the healing worked on his thigh.
Night was falling. He couldn't camp out here — not with his injuries. But he could come back tomorrow.
And the day after that.
And the day after that.
---
Ashveil was a city of Awakeners. But few ever rose beyond F rank. Fewer still passed Awakener stage and broke into the true realms of power.
But Auther Finn had something they didn't:
A power with no ceiling.
And a mind that refused to stop refining it.