Rise of The Living Enchantment [LITRPG REGRESSION]

Trackback had gone silent. As silent as a lawless city could be in the dark of night. Midnight stretched its cold fingers across its expanse, smothering the last warmth from the sand. Where the day had been warm and bright, the night now wrapped the world in a deep chill. Above, the stars shimmered like distant eyes, bright and countless. Just enough to see with.

Aiden felt none of it. Not the warmth of the day or the chill of the night. He was already transcending the temperature of nature. At least the temperature unbacked by the weight of mana. There still remained places on this side of Nastild so hot he would sweat and so cold he would need to be wrapped in three blankets.

The night sky looked down on him. Its star-spangled darkness an accompaniment to his silent footsteps as he moved through the streets of Trackback.

His thoughts ran all over the place as he moved. If Jang Su really was in Trackback, what was he going to do?

History from his past life had taught him that the man had once reigned as the strongest of the summoned. He would be a boon to be allied with.

Aiden eased into slow steps, strolling through the streets now. Trackback was a silent night, but it was not an inactive night. An unknown lord moving through the night was noticeable. If he was running, it would draw even more attention.

Jang Su. The name remained in his head. At some point in his past life he had looked upon the man and wondered what life would've been like if he had been him.

Now, Jang Su was nothing but a child to him. Young and talented, instead of mature and powerful.

His steps carried him down an alley and he came out the other side. A few turns later and the streets were beginning to come alive with lights and life.

Trackback had districts and Aiden's legs were carrying him into the district that was dominated by restaurants and bars. The sound of drinking men and quiet cheers filled the air as he walked. His eyes scanned the environment, picking out signboards as he moved.

He had a destination, a pickup point.

His foot came to a stop and he looked up at the sign in front of him. Desert-storm.

The Desert Storm sat hunched at the edge of the district. The building seemed to lean to the side very slightly, almost subliminally. Its windows glowed dimly with candlelight and a soft promise of intrigue, even with the noise emanating from it. The absence of noticeable orb light did not pass unnoticed.

This was his location. The man with the bow, from the guides that were to lead him and the others while in the cave, had agreed to meet him here tonight.

Aiden walked up to the door and pushed it open.

A bell rang as the door opened, alerting any and everyone inside the building. Silence fell as Aiden stepped in. Eyes turned to him. Conversations ended. Everyone seemed to freeze for a moment.

Aiden took them in as easily as they took him in.

Every voice faltered. Dice froze in mid-roll at a table to his left as if the roller had abandoned it before conclusion. It dropped from his hand, clattering pathetically against the wooden table. A card slipped from a hand at another table, fluttering to the floor.

Aiden stood at the entrance a while longer, wrapped in his green coat. He wondered if the coat was what held their attention now. With how filled the bar was, and how many weapons he was unable to count, there had to be at least two handfuls of people who knew the worth of the coat.

No one wore coats like this in Trackback, and Aiden wasn't talking about the design. It was the value, as well as the fact that it was a coat. Long and flowing coats like his hindered movement and combat unless at the hands of an assassin or someone who likes to fight with concealed weapons. Even then, they chose cloaks for their increased maneuverability.

The nearest man to him looked down. Aiden followed his gaze to his feet. His boots were caked with dust, courtesy of walking the sandy night. He was more than happy to ignore it.

The lanterns flickered where they stood on their stands fastened to the walls.

No orb light, Aiden confirmed. There wasn't even one in sight. Only two types of people didn't use orb lights, those who could not afford them, and those who did not favor spells or enchantments.

With the door closed behind him and eyes still on him, Aiden moved through the place slowly, eyes scanning the room. He kept his expression empty. Suspicion, fear, or even excitement were held at bay—not that he had any of them. He gave nothing.

Ruffians and hooligans, men and women who ran the streets, watched through suspicious gazes as they paused mid-drink. Mercenaries straightened just enough to reach their belts or their weapons. At least, enough not to be caught unprepared. One man coughed into his hand.

Aiden caught the action he tried to hide with the sound. He'd slipped a small dagger within reach, placing it out of sight on the table, just under his hand.

Aiden didn't flinch. Aiden didn't care. Everything happening was only happening because he was not a known face and he did not look like he belonged. He'd picked out his target not long after he'd entered. As he approached the man, his coat swayed gently. He could almost hear the sound as it moved with him.

It was a figment of his imagination, though. He knew that he made no sound. Perhaps that was part of the reason the room continued to remain alert with a tension so strong it could reach out and choke a person.

When he got to his target's table, the man was alone. His bow sat carefully on the table and his ponytail remained prim and proper, just as it had been when Aiden had met him earlier. Somehow his blue eyes seemed brighter under the warm comfort of candlelight.

"Dreg," he said. Just one word.

Dreg looked up at him, eyes following him until he sat down. Dreg's were not the only eyes. Only when he was finally seated did the room come alive once more.

Conversations resumed. The sounds of glasses and spilled drinks refilled the air. Someone with a deep baritone cursed and swore by one of the gods on one end. Even the waitresses resumed their movements, trays resting on their hips or elevated on one hand as they went about their duties.

Aiden might not have belonged, but Dreg did. Dreg allowing him to sit with him was all the stamp of approval the current inhabitants of Desert Storm needed. A simple understanding.

"How did you do that?" Dreg asked.

Aiden moved his head a little, panning his gaze around the place one more time before returning his attention to the man.

"Do what?" he asked.

"The way you moved," Dreg clarified. "How did you do it?"

Aiden cocked a confused brow. "I'm not one of you, Dreg. If you have a question you want to ask, you'll have to be specific."

Dreg scratched his jaw with a finger before shaking his head. "Of course. I'm beating around the bush with a man that slapped Taeli for being rude." He placed both hands on the tabletop. "Your footsteps, your breathing, the movement of your clothes. You made no sound. How did you move like that?"

Aiden shrugged. "When you've been to the places I've been to and experienced the things I've experienced, you pick these things up."

Dreg shook his head. "Even the [Stealth] skill is not that quiet, unless you're over level hundred."

"Are you sure?" Aiden asked, curious. "Who says I'm not over level hundred?"

"I have a sense for the really powerful." Dreg sat back, raising a hand to draw the attention of one of the waitresses. "Also, if you were above level one hundred, walking through that door would've let everyone know."

Aiden looked back at the door he had entered through. Above it, inscribed into the wall, was an enchantment.

A custom detection enchantment. He made a face in acknowledgement. If his knowledge of enchantments served him right—and they hadn't failed him yet—it was an enchantment designed to detect a person's general level. You picked a level limit and it told you when a person was above it or below it, depending on your specifications.

"That explains the tension," he muttered, returning his attention to Dreg. "Do you all fear skills like that?"

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Dreg frowned. "Please do not do me the disrespect of lying to me."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I have a passive skill that lets me know if someone has an active skill or a passive skill in effect."

Aiden's gaze narrowed. "You have [Skill Sight]?"

He almost whistled. Skill sight was not a very famous skill. Just as Dreg had pointed out, it helped a person detect active and passive skills.

"Does it help detect enchantments, too?"

"And spells," Dreg added. "Anything from a person no more than thirty levels above me."

Aiden wondered if he was marketing himself as a serving lady arrived at their table. Dreg made his order quickly, asking for some local dish and some local drink Aiden couldn't be bothered to remember.

The lady asked if he would like anything as well, and he waved her away. He didn't plan on being here long.

"Not hungry?" Dreg asked.

Aiden shook his head. "Just won't be staying long."

Dreg nodded as if he understood before turning the conversation to business. "Your target was very easy to track down. So easy that I almost feel bad for taking your money for it."

Aiden pulled the agreed sum from his pocket and placed it on the table, his hand firmly over it.

"I agreed to the sum for my own reasons," he said. "It was a task I didn't want to do myself for my reasons, and there were risks you didn't understand."

Dreg looked at his hand with a curious gaze.

"If it's not a skill, what is it?" he asked.

"Still on how I move so quietly?" Aiden asked. "It can't be that big a deal."

Dreg adjusted once more. He did it often. Whenever the subject of the conversation was changing, he adjusted. Aiden hoped he didn't have tells this blatant when he fought.

"I have the [Archer] class," Dreg said in a reduced voice. "One of its perks is heightened perception. I hear better than most of my peers and see better, too. It helps me do what I have to do with my class. Half the people in this room have similarly related skills that can help them tell when someone is coming from a mile away."

"You have my attention so far." Aiden gestured for him to continue with his free hand.

"Most of us sense people coming before they get to the door. You," Dreg leaned forward, "most of us didn't sense."

"And that's why everyone was looking at me?"

Dreg nodded. "Then you moved and you remained very quiet." He tipped his jaw at Aiden's hand covering the coin. "Even just now, you placed the coins on the table. I felt the vibration, but I didn't hear it."

That was interesting.

"And you don't sense any enchantments or spells," he muttered.

The man nodded. "How?"

"Because I learnt how to walk."

"You weren't this quiet when we met earlier today."

"Because I wanted you all to think of me as someone you needed to guard and take care of. I was appealing to the humanity in you." Aiden sighed. "Your teammate showed me the errors of my way."

"I apologize for that."

Aiden waved the apology aside. It didn't matter. He was more interested in his newfound information. His weavings didn't register as skills or enchantments or spells. Did it mean that unless it had visible effects that nobody could sense when he was under a weaving?

There were other ways of telling if a person was using a skill, though. There were signs upon activation, fluctuations in the ambient mana. Mana always reacted. All you had to do was lookout for it.

But once the skill was active, without actual effects, it was difficult to tell without some kind of skill or enchantment or… something.

Aiden shook the thought as the lady returned with Dreg's meal.

"The information I asked for," Aiden said. "I've already spent too long here."

"Man in a flowing robe with odd colors and wearing them wrongly," Dreg rattled out, clearly unhappy to be changing the topic. "We found him easily. He's staying at Melwort."

Aiden paused. He hadn't expected a name like that. Not in Trackback where people liked to name things in a way that related to the desert or sand when they had the chance.

"Is he with someone?" he asked.

Dreg shook his head. "He's staying alone. Room ten."

"Thank you."

Aiden raised his hand, revealing the coin. He moved to get up, then paused. He sat back down.

"Are any of the people here your friends?" he asked.

"By 'here' you mean the bar, not the city, right?" Dreg asked, confused.

Aiden nodded. "Yes."

"I know all of them," Dreg answered. "But they are more of acquaintances or allies. Why?"

"Alright, then. Tell your acquaintances three tables to our left that I have at least one weapon on me, and I am not a lenient person," he said. "What I consider as mercy is not what most people will consider as mercy. If they come for me, they'll lose lives or limbs."

Dreg's eyes moved to the side, seeing what Aiden had noted. The people at the table, one man and one woman, were eyeballing Aiden.

"I look rich," Aiden added simply. "But I fight better than I look."

Dreg nodded. "And you're still not going to tell me how you move like that."

Aiden groaned as if he was tired. "Dreg, I already told you. Years of experience."

With that, he got up and left the table. Dreg's expression when he had told him to warn the other table didn't seem bothered. In fact, he had a strong feeling that Dreg would not be telling them anything.

If that was the case, it would be sad for them. Then again, bodies of unimportant people turning up was not a new thing in Trackback.

When he left the bar, it was with thoughts of [Enchanted Weave]. If the effects of his weaving didn't register as skills or enchantments or spells, then what exactly were they?

He'd never in his two lives heard of a skill that did not register as a skill. Or an enchantment that didn't register as an enchantment. The same could be said for spells.

Then what do they register as?

There was now a slight undertone of worry as regards the skill. It was nothing strong or dissuasive. It was simply there. When he used [Enchanted Weave], what exactly was he doing?

As for his threat, whatever happened, he still wasn't going to kill them unless killing them was the only way to save his life.

After all, he still had no plans of increasing his level until after he had acquired the [Crystal of Existence].

…

Aiden wasn't proud to say that it took him a while to get to the Melfort Inn. For starters, he had to go from the bar district back to the inn district. He also had to do so without looking suspicious. Though, that was not the only reason for the delay.

When he returned to the inn district, he found no friendly faces among the few people still outside—most of them hired guards.

So, he was forced to navigate the entire district himself in search of the inn.

When he found it, he did not use the front door. Instead, he made his calculations and scaled the walls. It was the benefit of buildings made of bricks or stones. Difficult as they were to climb, there were always handholds—parts of the walls jutting out a little too much. At least enough to hold on to with a few fingers.

Successfully sneaking in, Aiden dropped quietly to his feet.

Like the inn he and the others were staying in, this one had one or two doors on each side of the wall in the hallway. A quick survey let him know that there was no room numbered 'ten' there, so he was quick to find the stairs.

He still didn't know what he was going to do when he met Jang Su. He didn't even know if he wanted Jang Su to be aware of him.

Jang Su would be a great addition to his team, but the man had thrown his lot in with Nel Quan. And even if he could convince Jang Su to leave the kingdom, he doubted the kingdom would be merciful about him stealing their strongest summoned.

What about for just the expedition?

The thought died in his mind as quickly as it came alive. If Jang Su already knew what the [Crystal of Existence] was, that would be a problem. The questions would be unending and the kingdom of Nel Quan would find out about it.

Everyone would know who had the crystal, and every kingdom would be after him. Why? Because while they all settled down when one of the monarchs laid claim to having the crystal, no kingdom was willing to allow some random lowlife to have it.

Within the cave or without, the crystal was anyone's to snatch up until it fell under the ownership of one of the crowns.

Aiden had once asked why when he was a member of the Order. The response his instructor had given him had been a simple one.

"Power," the man had said. "If a peasant can claim the one thing that kings and queens fight over, then all peasants would want to claim it. Before you know it, everyone will think they can claim other things that the monarchs want. Then, what will be next? It will only be a matter of time before someone wants the crown."

It was a far jump from stealing the crystal or the heart to stealing the throne, but it was a possible one.

Sneaking around, it wasn't long before Aiden found the room he was looking for. The number was written clearly on the door.

Making up his mind, he raised his hand to knock, only for the door to open before his knuckles met wood.

Jang Su stood there, looking at him, confused.

He frowned as if trying to remember. "Lord Lacheart?"

Aiden looked down the hallway then back at him. "Were you heading out? I could walk with you."

"How did you find…" Jang Su shook his head as if it was not important and asked a different question. "Why are you here?"

"At your door or in Trackback?" Aiden asked, relaxing his expression.

"Both."

"How long does it take to let someone in?" a tired voice asked from inside.

Aiden grew alert very suddenly. Jang Su's hands shot out to calm him.

"Don't run," Jang Su said. His tone was serious. "Please."

Aiden frowned. Dreg had said that Jang Su was alone. Had the [Archer] done a half-assed job? Did he have to pay the man a visit before they met for the task he had initially hired him for?

Jang Su sighed and stepped to the side. He paused, frowning slightly.

"You've got something on your…" he let the words trail off as he touched a spot on his jaw with his finger.

Aiden reached up and wiped the same spot on his jaw. It was slick. When he looked at it, he wasn't very surprised to find blood.

"Are you alright?" Jang Su asked.

"It's not his," the voice answered from inside.

Jang Su stiffened at the sound. He was like a boy who wasn't supposed to have girls over just for a girl to come over when his parents were around.

"It's not mine," Aiden confirmed. "I ran into some overambitious people on the way here."

Inside, the voice let out a soft chuckle. "I like him already."

Aiden had no idea what was going on.

"Just…" Jang Su stood further to the side, giving Aiden space to enter. "Just don't say anything you wouldn't want someone to say to you."

Aiden nodded, not very sure of what was happening.

He walked into the orb-lit room and Jang Su closed the door behind him.

Lying down on the only bed in the room was an old man in a robe very similar to the one Jang Su was wearing. He looked to be in his fifties. Early fifties to be precise.

Jang Su stood off to the side as if he was embarrassed.

The old man moved so that he was sitting on the bed. "Oh, come on," he complained. "You can't be ashamed of me."

Aiden looked between the two of them. Was the man someone from Nel Quan? Had Jang Su run away? Was this something that had happened in his previous life that he was not aware of, or a change in the present timeline that he had somehow caused?

Everything isn't always about you, Aiden, he chided himself, while Jang Su let out a tired sigh.

"This is Lord Lacheart," he said, as if he didn't want to. "I met him during my visit to Bandiv with the princess."

"The one you couldn't win?" the old man asked, impressed.

Jang Su nodded.

The man sat up, straightened his back, and smiled as if he was trying to make a good impression. A twitch to his lips told Aiden that he was also enjoying Jang Su's discomfort.

"Lord Lacheart," Jang Su said hesitantly. He gestured to the man. "This is my master."

Aiden's entire world froze.

His feet twitched.

His brain fired off countless warnings.

They all boiled down to one thing.

Run.

An old voice fixed him in place.

"I would not advise it."