[The God of War sends a message: 'Impressive.']

[You have slain 7 Orcs.]

[You spilled 60 liters of blood.]

[Some gods have chosen to bless you with 1,600 Experience Points.]

"Only seven?" Jamie murmured. He could have sworn he'd taken down more. The adrenaline of battle often blurred the line between memory and reality. Even so, the notification remained unchanged.

"Calm down. Breathe," he told himself, inhaling deeply. The cold air filled his lungs, grounding him amidst the chaos of his thoughts.

Behind him, his companions were regrouping. The group had resumed its march. The orc carcasses posed a problem. They lacked the oil needed to burn them, and the fetid meat was unfit for consumption, even in desperation. The best they could do was to cover in snow, to mask the scent from predators and conceal their trail from prying eyes.

'Receiving experience points now isn't a good sign,' Jamie thought, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. 'I didn't activate [Quest Giver], so this isn't tied to completing any task.' He knew the gods were seldom generous without ulterior motives.

'Where's that fat cat when you need him?' he thought, a wry smirk touching his lips. Jay had remained in the city, citing that the forest was no place for a 'defenseless' cat. A convenient excuse, Jamie suspected. He could have used Jay's opinion now.

He sighed. 'If they're handing out rewards like this, it means there's something big ahead.' Unease coiled in his stomach.

Clenching his fists, he felt the sticky residue of orc blood between his fingers, already beginning to cool. 'But what can I do with this?' he pondered. 'It's not enough to level up.'

While walking, a thought sparked. There was something he'd overlooked. A blessing he didn't explore all his potential. His heart quickened as he summoned its description once more.

[Blessing: Crescendo]

Invest your experience and that of an ally to obtain the chance to increase the rarity of their class.

Experience points are not refunded, and if the mission is not completed within the allotted time, new investment will be needed.

"Wait," Jamie whispered, eyes widening. "It doesn't say I can't use it on myself."

A slow grin spread across his face. This could be the edge he needed. If the gods were hinting at a looming challenge, then he would meet it head-on, stronger than before.

"It won't hurt to try," he decided.

[Crescendo]

Channeling his experience points, Jamie summoned his blessing. This time, he focused the effect upon himself. Golden strings of mana sprouted from his body. They coiled around his arms, converging upon his wrists to form golden shackles.

Glancing around, Jamie noted that the soldiers remained oblivious to what was happening. Their eyes were fixed on the path ahead.

'Can only my targets see this?' he wondered, a flicker of relief appearing in his face.

He awaited the familiar cards to appear as his options. Yet only an alert materialized before him.

[Insufficient Experience]

[Targeting oneself with Crescendo doubles the experience cost]

[Upgrading rarity from Rare to Unique consumes 10,000 experience points]

[You are lacking 18,000 experience points]

"Damn it," Jamie muttered under his breath, a surge of frustration welling up within. He had hoped this gambit would unlock the power he desperately needed. 'At least I tried,' he thought, trying to reduce the disappointment.

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As the initial alert faded, another prompt surfaced.

[Do you wish to increase the difficulty?]

[Your challenge will be amplified by...]

[10x to compensate for the missing experience]

[You have... 10 seconds to make your decision]

[Yes] [No]

'It's obvious!' Jamie's thoughts raced. Without hesitation, he reached out and selected "Yes." 'If I fail, I'll lose 2,000 experience points, but this might be the difference between staying alive or dying,' he reasoned.

The moment his fingers confirmed the choice, three golden cards appeared, hovering before him.

[Silver-Tongued Minstrel]

Master of persuasion, illusions, and manipulation. The Silver-Tongue Minstrel is capable of charming nobles and deceiving enemies through performance.

The illustration presented an elegant bard adorned in lavish attire, dancing within a grand hall. His fingers moved over the strings of a lute. The sheer charisma radiated from the image was palpable.

Jamie gazed upon the card. 'That's exactly what I already am...' he thought, a wry smile touching his lips. The path of the minstrel was second nature to him. He knew the art of influence, the subtle manipulation of words and emotions to sway the hearts of others. He played the role with confidence.

Yet, as he contemplated the choice.

'It won't help in battle,' he thought grimly. 'Our team is already struggling to fight at the level we're at. If I focus even more on diplomacy and deception, we'll fall behind.'

Jamie dismissed the first card, focusing his gaze on the next card.

[Mystic Chanter]

The Mystic Chanter infuses music with magic, enhancing songs to heal, shield, or cast spells during performances.

An image unfolded upon the card's surface. There was a flautist cloaked in flowing robes, standing amidst a battlefield. Ethereal notes spiraled from his instrument, weaving through the air. Warriors nearby seemed healed, their wounds knitting closed as enemies recoiled.

'Not bad,' Jamie thought, considering the potential. Enhancing his magical abilities would benefit the group. Healing and defensive spells could turn the tide. But then, they already had mages among their ranks. Did they need another?

'Would becoming a Mystic Chanter make the difference we need?' he pondered. 'Or would it dilute my strengths?'

His eyes drifted to the third and final card. As it turned to face him, the illustration came into focus.

[Dagger Dancer]

A bard who weaves dance and song with deadly dagger strikes, using agility and rhythm to strike vital points while distracting enemies with feints and flourishes.

The card depicted an agile figure, dual daggers in hand, poised in the center of a grand hall. The Dagger Dancer moved with grace, a whirlwind of motion that blurred the line between performance and lethality. Enemies surrounded him, ensnared by the mesmerizing display, only to fall one by one to precise, deadly strikes.

As Jamie read the description, a sense of clarity washed over him.

"This is what I need," he acknowledged. Yet doubt lingered at the edges of his mind. "But is this the right choice?"

He recalled the hard decisions his companions had faced. Eliza, Thomas, Bertram, and Aldwin— all four had already gone through the [Crescendo] and struggled to make the right choice. Now, it was his turn.

'But this is the only one that will help me in combat, especially in the short term,' Jamie reasoned. The battles ahead would not be won with words alone. Steel and skill were what he needed. Steeling himself, he reached out and let his fingers brush against the card.

The moment he made contact, the other cards dissolved into motes of golden dust, scattering and falling in the snow.

[You selected your path.]

[To become a Dagger Dancer, you must complete the following quest.]

[Murderer]

Assassinate five humans within ten days.

'Well, that's easy enough,' Jamie thought with a grim smile, unperturbed by the morbid task. In the brutal world he navigated, such an undertaking was a grim necessity. 'I can head to Frosthell's prison, find five condemned criminals, and send them straight to meet their gods.'

It seemed a practical solution. A simple way to fulfill the requirement without staining his conscience further. But as he watched, the text before him began to shift, the letters rearranging themselves.

[Difficulty increased by 10x.]

[Murderer]

Assassinate five humans within 24 hours.

His eyes widened as the reality set in. "Fuck," he cursed under his breath. Twenty-four hours wasn't enough time. Returning to Frosthell was out of the question.

He surveyed his surroundings. The forest stretched in all directions. The only humans around him were his companions. Among them were hardened soldiers, allies who had fought beside him, and even those whose trust he questioned. But none were deserving of cold-blooded murder.

'None have earned my wrath. I can't justify breaking my code,' he thought bitterly.

A deep sigh escaped him, a plume of vapor in the cold air. "Hell."

His contemplation was interrupted by Andrik's commanding voice slicing through the silence. "We've arrived."

Jamie blinked, pulled back into the present. The group had halted, and the soldiers exchanged wary glances as they gathered around. Before them was a dark entrance framed by jagged rocks and ancient timbers.

Andrik stood near the entrance of what appeared to be an abandoned mine. "Prepare yourselves," he announced, his tone leaving no room for question. "We are going in."

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