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The wraith's spell narrowly missed Oliver's head. If he hadn't happened to turn at the slight decrease in temperature, it likely would have ended his career, right there. Instead, he ducked a second blast of freezing magic. Then he rolled out of the hole he'd dug and began his counter attack. The shovel he'd been using to dig was solid iron. While not quite as effective as pure silver, it was still clean counter to most ethereal undead.

He lunged forward with an extra wide swing, letting the momentum of the shovel build. It slammed into the creature and actually hit some resistance. Still, it passed through the wraith's body. The undead howled in rage and pain as it reformed. Oliver had done enough to wound, but he'd need at least a dozen more strikes of equal power to truly bring it down. And the wraith did not appear particularly interested in giving him that opportunity. It floated back and hurled spell after spell at Oliver.

He deflected one of the blows with the blade of his shovel, then ducked for cover behind a headstone. His shovel was sturdy, but it was still susceptible to cold. The bite of cold penetrated through his fingerless gloves. If another spell of equal power hit it again, Oliver would have been forced to drop his weapon. As it was, the metal tool was already sticking to his fingertips, making repositioning his grasp difficult without tearing his skin.

"Need enchantments," he muttered to himself. This was far from the first time his simple tool had failed him. But enchantments were expensive. And he kept hoping that he might be able to buy something more with his savings. His shovel served him well, but he needed something with more oomph. He was close. Today might even be the day. Assuming he survived the wraith and got lucky with some decent loot. He peeked his head around the headstone and used his Appraisal skill on the wraith. Wraith of Charlotte Thorne.

Level 37. That was all the information the skill was willing to give him. A different skill like Identify might load him with knowledge on her skills, possible spells, and even some basic biographical information. But Appraisal was designed for objects, not people. He was lucky it even gave him the little it did. But that wasn't the only skill at his disposal.

"Slink," he whispered, then he slipped back in the shadows of the graves. While not true invisibility, Shadow Slink let him slip through shadowed areas noiselessly and camouflaged. A truly perceptive opponent would spot him still. But this wraith was too busy living up to its name. The undead slammed spell after spell into the headstones, hollering and screaming incomprehensible noises. Its hair chaotically floated into the air in strands to create a writhing mass around its horrific visage.

Oliver used another skill on it, Death Aura. With its activation, a wave of suppressive weight pressed down on all the undead in his vicinity. It wouldn't work in the middle of combat; however, without a clear target to focus on, the wraith was susceptible to its effects. In mere seconds, his undead attacker lost its gusto for violence. It stopped screaming, which was good. Oliver had a minor concern it might attract other undead with the noise. The skill put the undead creature in a trance.

Giving him ample opportunity to maneuver. He'd used this skill countless times to escape powerful enemies. He would have been dead and rotting long ago without it. But today, escape wasn't on his mind. He slipped behind the wraith. Instead of immediately getting another good swing off, he used the little time he had earned himself to set up a more devastating blow. He grabbed a handful of salt from his pouch and set it in the scoop of his shovel. This time, when he swung it was entirely vertical.

It impacted with the wraith's head and drove the undead creature to the ground. The salt refused to pass through the ethereal body which gave his iron shovel something solid to press down on. Once effectively pinned, Oliver spread more salt over it, like a farmer sowing seeds. It took less than a minute before its howls quieted as its form bubbled into an ectoplasmic mound. Dead. Or… dead again, he supposed. Congratulations! You have defeated Wraith of Charlotte Thorne, level 37. You have been awarded [3] Mel.

Three Mel was a good earning but Oliver skimmed over that first announcement, hoping desperately for a follow up. And he let out a sigh of relief when a new message appeared. Congratulations! You have met the experience threshold for level 40! +2 Dexterity. +1 Resilience +2 free points. You may now choose a new class option! Available - [Crypt Seeker] - You've scavenged the remains of the dead. Use those spoils and rely on the equipment of ancients for supreme power. +1 Luck. Skills - Artifact Enhancement.

Treasure Hunter. Undead Visage. [Paranormal Slayer] - You've slain a variety of paranormal creatures. Enhance those talents and increase your efficiency. +1 Dexterity. Skills - Silver Potency. Uncanny Sight. Pistol Proficiency. [Necromancer] - You live amongst the dead. Feed on and command their energy to harness magic. +1 Mental. Spells - Raise Undead Minion. Veil of Shadows. Death Bolt. Oliver sat down on the edge of his hole and carefully examined his new options.

He knew which one he was immediately drawn to, but there was no reason to not thoroughly examine each of the new classes offered. As far as he could tell, the classes were designed based on what he achieved and his chosen methods of survival. He decided to peruse his current status. At a mere thought, his vision blurred slightly in the corner of his eye and formed into a rectangle of information. Oliver Nightingale. Human Level 40. Class 1 - [Grave Robber] Skills 1 - Appraisal, Shadow Slink, Shovel Proficiency.

Class 2 - [Underkeeper] Skills 2 - Death Aura, Summon Sanctuary (Coffin), Echoes of the Dead. Class 3 - [NA] Skills 3 - NA Status Points - Strength 28, Dexterity 85, Resilience 37, Mental 5, Speech 5, Luck 0. Free Points Available - 2. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Mel - 589 He barely remembered choosing his first class, [Grave Robber]. That had been a day full of chaos, blood, and panic.

It was likely the best choice at the time, but it was hard to say when he didn't fully even recall the other options. At level 20 he'd chosen [Underkeeper] because he'd believed it would keep him safe. And it had. But he still harbored regret for not taking the combat heavier [Spectral Hunter] class. That would have likely helped him accumulate experience and level up significantly faster. As for his options now. [Crypt Seeker] was the most aligned with his current classes.

It would be more of the same, scavenging graves and finding objects. Most of the artifacts he'd found over the years had been junk that was barely worth the effort of picking up. Maybe if he'd saved them he might have been able to use the Artifact Enhancement skill on them to make them actually halfway useful, but those knickknacks were all long gone, exchanged for scraps of food and money. He'd have to start all over again with looting graves.

Honestly, that bonus point into luck was the most enticing part of the class. He wondered what exactly he might be able to do with that. Luck was the sole status point locked out of being assigned the free points given at level-ups. But, assuming the leveling system followed the same trend as in the past, he wouldn't experience any notable gains until he hit an increment of ten.

So, it would make no difference until he received 10 luck which wouldn't be until he reached level 50 if he continued to only gain 1 point of luck each level. Definitely not worth throwing his class choice away to satisfy that bit of curiosity. [Paranormal Slayer] was reminiscent of the path he'd wished he'd taken at level 20 when he had been offered [Spectoral Hunter]. A class clearly designed for combat that could let him effectively kill monsters.

And the term 'paranormal' could be expanded in a lot of different directions. He'd finally be able to use an actual weapon effectively, not just rely on shovels. Pistols had downsides though. They were loud, for one thing, and reliant on reloading. But they were powerful and he'd even experimented with a flintlock pistol a bit in town before, but had decided against the expensive purchase at the time.

Then there was Silver Potency which likely meant any of his attacks using the metal would be more powerful and hit harder. There was certainly an appeal to the idea of shooting a wraith from afar with a silver bullet and watching it explode on impact. And more than ethereal undead would be susceptible to it. Ghouls, zombies, vampire spawn. Even werewolves. All of those nightmares could be laid to rest with silver. With increased potency, Oliver imagined that they wouldn't stand a chance against an attack from him.

The last skill was the biggest mystery. Uncanny Sight. He had no idea what that might entail outside of maybe being able to see at night better and having better all-around vision. It didn't hurt. But that sounded lackluster at best for a class skill at level 40. Not to mention he wasn't even certain if it was a passive skill like the other two offered by the class or if it required activation like his Shadow Slink skill. There were no instructions or descriptions of the skills to go off of when choosing a class.

It was a gamble. Though the other two were clear enough for him to have a decent understanding of the [Paranormal Slayer] class. The unexpected class offered was [Necromancer]. He hadn't been offered any sort of mage class at level 20. Instead of skills, it listed spells. That would be a bit of a problem. Skills relied on physical status points. Either Strength or Dexterity. Spells, on the other hand, relied on the Mental stat. And he'd spent the last 40 levels accumulating more and more Dexterity.

Not once, in all the years living here, had he ever placed a point in Mental. Both it and Speech were still at the base 5 it had been at when he first arrived. And he knew of no way to reallocate stat points. Once they were locked in, they were part of him for life. So, despite the appeal of some of those spells, Oliver couldn't help but feel ripped off that one of his options was so wildly useless to him. It was like it was placed there just to tantalize him with what could have been.

A drizzle of rain pattered down on his tricorn cap and jacket. He tipped the rim of his hat to keep the rain off his face as he reread all of his options. He needed to be certain about this choice. Feeling confident, he mentally selected [Paranormal Slayer] then threw his free points into Strength to boost that up to the 30 threshold. Then he confirmed his decision. Oliver's head was immediately racked with searing pain. His vision blacked out as his brain felt like it split open.

Other senses numbed as every piece of his body seemed entirely devoted to the restructuring of his mind. A moment later, all the pain simply disappeared. His awareness crashed back down into his body. He took several deep breaths and wiped the clammy sweat from his brow. His stat sheet updated to show his new class and skills. The skills came with an innate understanding, but they required him to put himself in a situation where they could activate to be understood.

For Pistol Proficiency, it was pretty clear what he needed to do to activate the skill. Just pick up a pistol and the skill would passively activate. Uncanny Sight, on the other hand, proved more elusive. He peered around the forgotten cemetery and examined the wet headstones. He could now make out the faded engraved words from several yards away. That proved his night vision was better. But not to any truly significant degree. The skill couldn't just be that.

"Maybe it will pair with my Appraisal skill?" he wondered out loud. Well, there was one way to check that. He hopped down into the hole he'd been excavating before being interrupted by the wraith. It took only another minute of digging until his shovel struck an object with a familiar hollow, wooden noise. Oliver widened the hole a bit, so as to not have dirt cascade down into his findings. Then he took out a crowbar and wrenched one of the wooden planks back. He held his breath and prepared for the worst.

His eyes had long since become accustomed to the sight of decay, but his nose had never quite made that adjustment to his lifestyle. His 37 Resilience did nothing to help him withstand scents. Rotting flesh still smelled as bad now as it had when he'd cracked open his first casket. Thankfully this corpse had long since decayed down into just shreds of fabric over bone. He let out a sigh of relief and quickly scanned the corpse with Appraisal. Amulet of Justice. An heirloom of the Thorne family. Value - 8 Mel.

Oliver reached down and snatched up the necklace. The spinal bones cracked as the chain broke through what had once been a neck. For something only worth 8 Mel, he was certainly being compensated plenty to make this retrieval. Too bad he didn't spot any additional coins in the coffin with her. Tossing coins to the deceased had apparently been a funeral tradition started after her death.

After half a minute of picking through the scraps of cloth and brittle bones, Oliver sighed as he concluded there was nothing else worthwhile hidden in this grave. Just the necklace. Disappointing loot, all things considered. Still, he supposed he'd gotten what he'd come for. He stood and stretched.

"Now what do we have here," a gruff voice said from above. Oliver looked up to see an ugly man with a nose like an eggplant. The man's dark eyes glared as they met Oliver's. Then he lifted a club. Barry Johnson. Human. [Laborer] Level 8. Oliver wasn't worried. So long as Barry wasn't secretly a werewolf with hidden levels, this man posed no threat to him. And the idea of a werewolf being here of all places was laughable. Unless… they were infiltrating. But they'd only done that once in all of Oliver's time here.

And that had been three years ago in a village far smaller than the nearby town. No, a werewolf infiltration was extremely unlikely. The biggest concern Oliver had was how the town of Ventri would react if Barry here went missing. Oliver was still blacklisted from the town of Raven's Hollow after being investigated for a similar crime. He'd rather not add to his list of forbidden towns.

"Nothing to say for yourself, grave robber? No petty defense or excuse?" Barry sneered down at Oliver. Oliver spent a few more seconds coming up with a response.

"Harold Thorne requested me be here," he said, his voice full of faux remorse.

"He wished to know for certain his mother still lay undisturbed by the whims of evil. It is a sorrowful event I endeavored to undertake with no other to be needlessly exposed to."

"Harold?" Barry sounded confused then he looked over at the headstone.

"Oh. This is Charlotte's grave?" Oliver held back a smile. Already he could see Barry's certainty crumble now that his proposed story had been contradicted. These townsfolk nearly always gave in with enough resistance. Oliver had long ago learned pretty words expedited the process as well. Even with his Speech at 5, Oliver could usually still talk his way out of problems if given an opportunity. The people in this land didn't fully act like natural humans. Suddenly Barry tensed up again.

"Wait, what's that you got there?" Well, drat. The oaf had seen the necklace. Looked like he only had one clear course of action. Oliver gripped the shaft of his shovel and readied himself.

"Why, you scoundrel!" Barry raised the club. Oliver swung his shovel around, cleanly sweeping Barry off his feet. Then he arced his weapon up and slammed the blade's edge into Barry's stomach. The edge of the shovel caught in the man's ribs, Oliver yanked the big man down to join Charlotte's corpse in the grave. Oliver deftly rolled out of the hole, yanking his shovel free, and prepared for Barry's attempts to drag him back into the hole. But they never came.

In fact, Barry never even made a noise that entire fight. Suspicious, Oliver peered down into the grave. Barry lay there, eyes glazed over and a curse frozen on his lips. Oliver took a step back. That had been far too easy. Was it because he'd reached a new threshold in strength? Barry had only been level 8, after all. But… he should also have received a kill notification. It was odd. He should just bury the dying man and leave quickly. He'd learned by now not to mess with good luck.

Unfortunately, sometimes ignorance wasn't an option. He raised his shovel and got one scoop of dirt into the grave when words scrawled themselves across his vision. At the same time, the words boomed from overhead.

"CONGRATULATIONS EXPERIMENTEES ON SURVIVING FIVE YEARS IN TRIAL!"