NOVEL ONLINE FREE Chapter 6: Chapter 06
Name: Almus
Level: 1
Strength: I0 → H123
Endurance: I0 → I51
Dexterity: I0 → I87
Agility: I0 → I96
Magic: I0 → H104
Skills:
◇∴⟅⛧⟆∴◇: ???
Lore of Ulgu: The Grey Wind bends to your will, granting you the power of shadow magic.
Lore of Tzeentch: The Wind Caller has given you the tools to wield his magic.
--
Ouranos studied the updated Falna, nodding in approval. "Very impressive," he said. "Incredible, even. Your growth is exceptional for a first dive with a Falna."
Almus glanced at the numbers before shrugging, his eyes lingering on the strange symbols. "Looks like Tzeentch messed with something."
"It's not a language I recognize," Ouranos admitted, his expression thoughtful. "And there's no explanation written next to it."
With a flick of his wrist, he tossed something toward Almus. "Catch."
Almus snatched it out of the air, opening his palm to find a pendant with a small gemstone embedded in it. The surface was covered in intricate carvings, as if someone had painstakingly etched every line into the stone.
"This should help with your dreams," Ouranos explained. "Fels found it in his old office—apparently, it belonged to an old sorcerer. He's been looking into your problem and will likely have a solution soon."
Almus paused for a moment, then let a small smile creep onto his face. "Thanks. Hey, do you have a spare room down here? I don't really feel like going back to the surface. I'd rather sleep near a god."
Ouranos gestured to his right. "Third door down. It might be a bit dusty—it hasn't been used in quite some time."
Almus gave a nod of thanks and walked down the dimly lit hallway, his footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor. When he reached the third door, he hesitated for a moment before pushing it open.
The air inside was stale, heavy with the scent of time left undisturbed. A thin layer of dust covered the wooden floor and furniture, evidence that no one had lived here for a long time. He stepped inside carefully, his eyes scanning the space.
It was simple—just a bed, a small desk, and a chest at the foot of the bed. But what caught his attention were the remnants of a life once lived. A long-abandoned coat still hung on a hook by the door, its fabric stiff with age. An old pair of boots sat beside the bed, scuffed and worn from use.
On the desk, a few scattered papers remained, their edges curled from time. Almus reached out, wiping away a layer of dust. The ink had faded, but he could make out some of the words—notes, maybe letters. Pieces of a life that had moved on or ended long ago.
Above the bed, a simple wooden frame still clung to the wall. He brushed away the dust and saw a family portrait—an adventurer, his partner, and a child. The figures smiled back at him from a world long past.
Almus exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable. This room had belonged to someone once. Someone who had been part of Ouranos' Familia, who had fought, lived, and perhaps died for something. And now, it was his for the night.
With a quiet sigh, he set his things down and sat on the bed. The mattress was firm but not uncomfortable.
They never came back, he thought, staring at the ceiling. Or maybe they did, but they never needed this room again.
He didn't let himself dwell on it for too long. Instead, he let exhaustion take over, his body sinking into the bed as his eyes grew heavy.
The last thing he saw before sleep claimed him was the portrait hanging on the wall, watching over him like a silent reminder of the past.
–
A good night's sleep could do wonders for a man, and Almus woke up feeling completely refreshed. No nightmares, no strange visions—just pure, uninterrupted rest. Well, a lot of rest. He had apparently slept through the entire day, and no one had come to wake him.
As he stepped out of the room, he passed by Fels, who seemed to be in a rush. They exchanged a few words, but the conversation was short—Fels barely stopped before hurrying off down one of the hidden passageways, vanishing into the darkness.
Weird, Almus thought. Fels was always in a hurry, but he never explained where he was going. Not that it was any of Almus' business. He had only been part of this Familia for two days—hardly enough time to start questioning things.
Besides, he had his own plans.
Another day, another dive into the Dungeon.
The thrill of getting stronger, of feeling himself improve, was addictive. It reminded him of the RPGs he used to play as a teenager, back before high school took over his life.
Except this time, the grind was for real and he was going to grind.
–
Almus was tearing through groups of monsters again, cutting them down one after another. He could feel the difference—he was faster, stronger, and his mana pool had grown. Even his spells packed more of a punch now.
And damn, it felt good.
But he wasn't reckless. He wasn't about to make the same mistake as last time. The monsters were still dangerous, and getting cocky would only get him killed.
As he moved through the Dungeon, he spotted a group of adventurers locked in battle with a pack of goblins. Four of them—three melee fighters and what looked like either a mage or a healer standing at the back.
He watched for a second, shrugged, and kept moving. They seemed capable enough.
Though, he did take note of one thing—the guy wielding that massive war hammer was fast. Faster than him by a good margin.
Something to think about later. For now, he had more monsters to kill.
Then, out of nowhere, a red blur shot past him.
Almus had heard the kid before he even saw him—frantic footsteps pounding against the stone floor, ragged breathing, pure desperation dripping from every sound.
Then, the kid shot into view, sprinting like death itself was on his heels, completely soaked in blood.
"Hey, kid, y—"
Before Almus could even finish, the kid blew right past him without so much as a glance.
Oh, you little shit.
Instinctively, his prescience flared. For a split second, fragmented images flickered through his mind—flashes of the kid's face, wild red eyes filled with panic, a blond-haired figure standing in the glow of the Dungeon, something was cut in front of him and a pure fire erupted inside the boy, something beautiful.
Almus shook off the disorienting vision and focused.
The kid wasn't being chased—he couldn't hear anything following him.
So what the hell was he running from?
What the hell was that vision…?
Before Almus could even process it, a familiar notification pulsed in his mind.
[Celestial Grimoire operational.]
His eyes widened. It's back.
Panic surged through him as he glanced around. He needed to get somewhere safe—if he was going to check the Grimoire, the last thing he wanted was to be caught off guard in the middle of the Dungeon.
Without wasting a second, he sprinted toward the nearest exit. Thanks to his near-perfect memory, he had a solid mental map of all the hidden passageways the Ouranos Familia had carved out over the centuries.
Reaching the closest one, he shoved it open and slipped inside, vanishing into the safety of the tunnels.
[The Celestial Grimoire has completed an update. As compensation for lost time, you have been granted an additional perk draw.]
[This perk will be tied to the universe responsible for the previous interference.]
[Randomizing draw…]
[Perk obtained: Necrotect Knowledge.]
[We do not serve. We RULE.]
[The Tomb Kings were master architects in life, and in death, their mastery only grew stronger.]
[This perk grants you knowledge of Tomb King structures and war constructs, from towering magical obelisks that drain life to colossal war sphinxes built for battle.]
The moment the words registered, Almus instinctively reached out, pressing his hand against the damp stone wall beside him. His eyes widened as an overwhelming flood of knowledge crashed into his mind.
Blueprints. Designs. Entire schematics of ancient, arcane structures flashed through his thoughts—massive pyramids infused with death magic, towering obelisks that siphoned the very essence from the living, and monstrous constructs crafted from stone and bone, shaped for war.
"So much knowledge…" he murmured, his fingers tracing the rough surface. His mind raced, already piecing together how these designs worked, how they were powered, how they were built.
This was more than just theory.
This was power.
[Perks will now only be available to obtain while you sleep.]
[Additionally, perks from the world of the god who attacked the Grimoire will appear more frequently in future draws, with their costs reduced by half.]
Okay, that's huge.
I took a step forward, shaking my head, still a bit overwhelmed by the sheer flood of knowledge. But soon enough, I sorted it all out, neatly organizing it in my mind—another gift from the perks I had gained.
It was exhilarating, realizing just how much I could process, how much I could do with my mind now. Truly incredible.
But this was still a gift from that bastard god.
I shook my head, pushing the thought aside as I made my way back through the shortcut into the Dungeon. This new perk could wait—I'd figure it out later when I had time to rest.
Right now, I had a Dungeon to clear.
–
"So that's an orc," Almus muttered, eyeing the massive creature standing before him.
The thing was huge—easily towering over him. Thick muscles, rough skin, and a sheer presence that screamed brute force. And to make things worse, the constant mist hanging in the air made it even harder to track its movements.
Unfortunately for the orc, that wouldn't be a problem.
Almus smirked and dashed forward in a blur, Beowulf gleaming as he swung the blade from several meters away. A crescent arc of magical energy erupted from the sword, slicing clean through the fog and slamming into the orc's thick hide.
His eyes widened. The attack had landed, but it hadn't cleaved the monster in two like he expected. Instead, only a chunk of its body had been severed—its sheer bulk keeping it intact.
Almus didn't hesitate.
He swung again. And again.
In an instant, the orc was shredded into pieces, his sword carving through it with a relentless flurry of slashes. Dozens of strikes lit up the mist, each one leaving behind a dazzling arc of raw energy.
By the time he stopped, the orc was nothing more than neatly diced remains scattered across the Dungeon floor.
Not too taxing on my mana, Almus noted as he listened closely. More monsters were nearby.
A grin tugged at his lips as he turned toward the noise, moving deliberately, almost lazily, as he walked straight toward them.
Two orcs. A dozen needle rabbits.
The moment they spotted him, they charged—fast, vicious, and mindless.
Almus didn't hesitate. He swung Beowulf in a wide arc, and a crescent of magical energy tore through the air, slicing through three of the rabbits mid-leap. Their bodies hit the ground in pieces before they even realized they were dead.
The rest kept coming.
Another rabbit lunged at him from the side, its needle-like fangs bared, aiming straight for his throat. Almus barely turned his head, his sword flashing as he bisected it cleanly in midair, the two halves splattering across the stone floor.
The orcs were closing in now, their heavy footfalls shaking the ground. One raised its massive fist and swung down with bone-crushing force.
Almus didn't even let it finish the motion.
His prescience flared, and before the fist could descend, Beowulf was already carving through the orc's wrist. The severed hand tumbled to the ground, blood spurting in thick, steaming jets.
The monster roared in agony, staggering back, but Almus was already moving—pivoting, stepping forward, and driving his blade straight through its chest. A blast of energy erupted from the impact, the force ripping through its body from the inside out.
It collapsed in a gory heap.
The second orc barely had time to react. Almus turned his attention to it, his smile widening.
With a single step, he closed the distance.
A downward slash—clean, effortless. The orc's head left its shoulders in a spray of crimson, rolling across the dungeon floor. Its body stood for a brief moment, twitching, before crumpling to the ground.
The last few rabbits hesitated, but Almus didn't give them a chance to flee.
He lunged forward, his blade a whirlwind of death. Every swing sent another body to the ground, carved open with ruthless efficiency. Fur, flesh, and bone scattered as he cut them down, one after another, until nothing remained but a pile of lifeless corpses.
Almus exhaled slowly, taking in the carnage around him.
Still no injuries. Still no resistance.
I can go deeper.
And so he went
–
Ouranos stared at the Falna in front of him, his eyes widening in disbelief. How is this even possible?
"So? How is it?" Almus asked, barely able to contain his anticipation.
He was covered in blood. Ouranos resisted the urge to sigh. The god knew it wasn't his own, but still—did he have to walk in here like this? He was dripping all over the place, staining the floor of the Prayer Room. He could have at least washed up before dirtying his domain.
"Your Falna has evolved at an incredible rate," Ouranos finally said, sending the updated status floating toward Almus.
Almus caught it, his eyes scanning the paper.
"That's nuts," he muttered before breaking into a grin.
Then he laughed—loud, unrestrained, filled with exhilaration.
"AHAHAHAHA!"
His eyes gleamed as he took it all in.
Name: Almus
Level: 1
Strength: H123 -> C652
Endurance: I51 -> D548
Dexterity: I87 -> D572
Agility: I96 -> E489
Magic: H104 ->C602
Skills:
◇∴⟅⛧⟆∴◇: ???
Lore of Ulgu: The Grey Wind bends to your will, granting you the power of shadow magic.
Lore of Tzeentch: The Wind Caller has given you the tools to wield his magic.
–
Almus leaned against the window, staring up at the night sky—or at least, trying to. Babel stood tall in the way, blocking most of his view of the stars. Still, the thought counted.
"I'm still so far," he muttered, his gaze shifting downward to the city below.
From his vantage point, he spotted a few familiar faces. He recognized them from Fels' lessons on Orario's strongest Familias. One group, in particular, stood out—the Loki Familia. One of the strongest in the city.
His eyes followed them as they entered a tavern. For a split second, his expression sharpened, his focus shifting to the entrance. Hostess of Fertility.
He exhaled, remembering Ouranos' warning.
"Don't go there."
Apparently, one of the employees was a goddess in disguise. But which one? Ouranos never said.
That alone made him curious.
Was he going to ignore Ouranos' warning? Of course he was.
Strapping Beowulf to his side, he adjusted his sheath before changing into a fresh set of clothes. No point walking into a tavern looking like he just crawled out of the Dungeon.
Stepping outside, he found the streets packed with people. The city was alive, buzzing with energy even at this hour.
He took a deep breath, letting the scents of food and the lively atmosphere wash over him. The energy of the place was infectious, even for him.
It hadn't even been a week since he arrived in this world, yet despite everything, he was starting to enjoy his new life. Sure, there was no internet, no games, none of the entertainment he was used to—but somehow, he wasn't bored.
That didn't mean he wasn't aware of the dangers. He could die any day—whether from a stray blade in the Dungeon or something as simple as sickness.
But for now, he was here. Alive. And that was enough.
As Almus stepped into the Hostess of Fertility, a small smile played on his lips. His eyes swept across the room, quickly locking onto a loudmouthed wolf-man, clearly drunk, boasting about something.
But what caught his attention more was the silence that hung around the rest of the tavern—an uneasy quiet that clashed with the usual rowdy atmosphere.
Then, he noticed the kid.
The same white-haired boy from earlier, standing there, trembling.
Almus didn't know exactly what had been said, but the way the kid stood there—like the words physically hurt—was enough to tell him everything.
"-Shouldn't have become an adventurer if he's just gonna cry like that!" the wolf-man barked, his voice dripping with mockery.
Almus immediately tuned him out.
Boasting and tearing people down? Yeah, not his thing. Well, insulting people could be fun sometimes—he wouldn't lie—but this? This was just pathetic.
The rant dragged on, and he caught the word mate thrown in somewhere. He sighed, shifting his attention to the staff. Most of them looked irritated, but one woman—a tall, broad-shouldered brunette—was already stomping toward the Loki Familia's table, her steps heavy.
She's strong.
Before he could think too much about it, the kid suddenly bolted past him, head down, fists clenched.
Almus barely caught a glimpse of his face—tear-streaked, twisted with frustration and hurt.
And just like that, he was gone.
Interesting.
Almus had never considered himself particularly perceptive before, but the kid might as well have been an open book.
"Bell!"
A gray-haired waitress hurried after him, her voice full of concern. At the same time, a blonde woman from the Loki Familia moved to follow as well.
She stopped at the door, hesitating. Almus watched as her expression turned pensive, as if debating whether to chase after him or not.
Was she the one from my vision?
He recalled the flashes he had seen—her and the kid, standing together, the presence of something looming behind them. If she had saved him, then that wolf-man was mocking the kid for not dying.
What an absolute asshole.
Let's not jump to conclusions too fast, he reminded himself, shaking the thought away.
Turning toward one of the waitresses, he approached casually.
"Excuse me, do you have a table for one?"
The waitress, a cat woman with soft brown fur on her ears and tail, flicked an ear toward him before flashing a welcoming grin. "Of course, follow me, nya~!"
Almus sighed inwardly. He had no problem with beastkin, but that nya thing? That was gonna take some getting used to.
Still, he followed her through the tavern, weaving between tables filled with rowdy adventurers and an awkward silence that hung in the air.
"Loki!"
The booming voice of the tall woman cut through the tension like a blade. "This is the last time your adventurers ruin the mood in my establishment! Is that clear?!"
"Yeah, yeah, Mama Mia, I got it! I'm sorry, I'll make it up to ya!"
The reply came from a fox-like woman with squinted eyes and a playful grin.
Almus raised an eyebrow. So this is a god and wait a minute, is Loki a woman here ?
She was a god so that meant she'd be able to tell if he lied. Great.
"Next time, you're paying ten times the menu price for a whole year!"
"We're sorry, Mia," a short blonde man spoke up, his voice calm but firm. He shot a look at the wolf-man—Bete, apparently—with a frown.
"Bete was a little harsh with his words," he continued, choosing his words carefully. "We'll compensate for the trouble… and we'll cover the tab for the guy who left."
Almus didn't care much about them. Sure, they were strong, but at first glance, that seemed to be their only defining trait. Then again, jumping to conclusions wasn't his style. Ouranos had mentioned that their captain, Braver, was an intelligent guy—so there was probably more to them than what he saw here.
What really caught his attention, though, was an elf with long green hair. There was something regal about her, an air of composure and power. And he could feel it—she was a mage. A very powerful one.
I'll ask about her tomorrow at Ouranos' place.
Pushing the thought aside, he turned his focus to the menu. His eyes scanned over the list before ordering a steak with fries.
That part still threw him off a little.
So many of the dishes here were things he recognized, yet the people of this world had no knowledge of Earth.
Weird.
Maybe some foods were just universal.
"Here's your order, nya~!"
The same waitress from earlier arrived, setting his plate down with a cheerful grin. Almus glanced at her for a moment before flashing a small smile in return.
"Thanks," he said before digging in without hesitation.
It was good—really good. But it wasn't just the taste that made it enjoyable. It was the familiarity, the subtle reminder of home.
Almus savored every bite, fully appreciating the meal as the tavern grew livelier. More and more adventurers filtered in, filling the space with laughter and conversation.
Meanwhile, the Loki Familia eventually got up to leave, exchanging a few words with the owner before heading out.
Almus finished his meal with a satisfied sigh. Time to head home.
He made his way to the counter, where a petite elf was busy taking someone else's order. When she finally turned to him, she barely glanced up before stating, "That'll be 21,000 valis."
His eyes widened slightly.
What?!
He reached into his bag, counted out the money, and placed it on the counter before walking out at a steady pace.
That was a rip-off. A total rip-off. 21,000 for a steak and fries? What a damn robbery!
He knew for a fact he wasn't eating there again.
He liked his money—well, technically Ouranos' money—but still, it was his now! And there was no way he was just handing it over like that again.
–
Well a little more laid back chapter, next one, we're going deep !