Witch

As he walked, Caelum's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The echo of his sister's laughter, the warmth of her presence, now replaced with a haunting emptiness. He remembered the promises they made under the stars, the dreams they shared, now shattered by the harsh reality of their fate. Eclipse's memories merging with Caelum's, resonated the pain.

"I will return to this place," he murmured, his voice laced with determination. "I will loot their treasures, use their resources." The idea of utilizing the bandits' own arsenal to fuel his power brought a cold comfort to his heart.

Caelum knew that the first step in his journey of survival was to create a better gun, a weapon befitting the Novice Gunslinger he had become. His sister's hairpin, the one he had used as a makeshift projectile, was a temporary solution. He needed something more reliable, more lethal.

As he emerged from the dungeon, the cool night air greeted him, a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere of the underground corridors. He gazed up at the starry sky, a canvas of endless possibilities, yet so distant and indifferent to his plight.

"I will learn what this shitty world is about," he thought, his voice barely a whisper, yet filled with an unyielding resolve. "And I will forge my path, Eclipse and Caelum as one."

With his sister's body still in his arms, Caelum set off towards the forest he had seen on the system's map.

As Caelum made his way through the quiet, moonlit forest, the weight of his sister's body in his arms was a constant reminder of the brutal reality he now faced. The system's interface, a glowing beacon in the darkness, was a stark contrast to the natural world around him. As he walked, a question nagged at the back of his mind, prompting him to address the system.

"Why did I get the XP of the weapon after I killed the Bandit Leader?" he asked aloud, more to himself than expecting an answer. The system, though not sentient, responded by uploading the data directly into his mind. In an instant, Caelum understood. Weapons he created needed to be tested in real combat to be acknowledged by the system. This revelation brought a grim satisfaction; he had unwittingly fulfilled this requirement in his desperate battle for survival.

Reflecting on this, Caelum delved deeper into his own stats. He noticed something peculiar when comparing his experience to the memories of his predecessor, the original Caelum. Classes known to the former Caelum, such as Blade Adept or Fire Magician, typically received only two or three automatically allocated stats per level, along with three free stats to distribute as one trained. However, his own progression was markedly different.

As a Novice Gunslinger, Caelum received five automatically allocated stats and an equal number of free stats for each level he gained. This discrepancy was significant and hinted at the unique nature of his class. Furthermore, he had been granted a skill and an ability at both level 1 and level 5, a rarity compared to other basic classes.

"That must be why rarer classes are so fiercely guarded by organizations," Caelum mused to himself. He recalled a memory from old Caelum's life, where his father had desperately pleaded with a passing merchant to help his son acquire an uncommon class, the 'Beast Whisperer'. The merchant laughed scornfully, leaving the village without offering any assistance. The stringent conditions to awaken such classes were closely guarded secrets, often monopolized by powerful guilds and factions.

Caelum's thoughts wandered to the broader implications of his unique class. In a world where one's class could determine their fate, possessing a rare and powerful class like the Gunslinger could place him in the crosshairs of those seeking to exploit or suppress such power.

As Caelum ventured deeper into the forest, nestled in the shadowy embrace of the woods, he noticed a red dot pulsating on the system's map, a glaring beacon in the corner of his vision. Someone, or something, was in front of him, the path System showed.

"Is this your idea of safe?" he grumbled under his breath, directing his frustration towards the Gunslinger System. There was a sense of betrayal, a hint of anger in his voice. Knowing he couldn't take his sister into potential danger, he reluctantly sent her body to the system's inventory. It pained him to treat her as just another object, but he had no choice; survival was paramount.

With a deep breath, he drew his makeshift tube weapon, filling it with the coarse gunpowder and his sister's hairpin. The weapon, crude yet effective, had already proven its worth. Stepping cautiously, Caelum advanced towards the cabin, his senses heightened, alert to any movement or sound.

Under the gentle caress of the moon's pale light, the dense forest revealed its mystique. Towering trees stretched their gnarled branches upward, their leaves forming a natural canopy that filtered the moonlight into a mosaic of shimmering patterns. This dappled illumination played an enchanting dance upon the forest floor, where soft, silvery beams intermingled with velvety shadows.

Caelum moved with the grace of a shadow himself, his every step a delicate murmur against the carpet of fallen leaves. The forest seemed to hush in his presence, the nocturnal symphony of insects and night creatures falling silent in reverence.

Amidst this ethereal scene, nestled within the heart of the woods, stood a cabin. Its timeworn structure bore witness to the passage of years, its silhouette a quaint and rustic presence beneath the forest's embrace. The moonlight, now filtered through the cabin's small windows and gaps in the wooden walls, offered fleeting glimpses of what lay within.

The cabin seemed both of the forest and apart from it, a place where the boundaries between the natural world and the arcane seemed to blur. Its presence carried an air of enchantment, yet the secrets it held were concealed, waiting to be unveiled in the stillness of the night.

As he neared the door, he paused, pressing himself against the wall. With cautious steps, Caelum pushed the door open, just enough to peer inside. The interior was dimly lit, with candles casting eerie shadows on the walls. At the center of the room sat the witch, her back to him. Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, he thought, 'System, Observe.' The interface obliged, scanning the interior of the cabin. The information appeared before his eyes, a brief but telling profile of the cabin's occupant:

Name: Unknown

Class: Witch

Level: 8

HP: 200/200

Skills:

Hexing: Lv.3

Potion Brewing: Lv.2

Spirit Communion: Lv.1

Curse Weaving: Lv.2

A witch, and not just any ordinary one, but one skilled in the dark arts. Caelum's grip on his weapon tightened. He had heard tales of witches in this world, beings of immense power and often malevolent intent. Their abilities were as varied as they were dangerous, and this one's skillset suggested a mastery over curses and potions.

Caelum took a moment to steel himself. He had to be smart about this. Witches were known for their cunning and trickery. Brute force alone wouldn't suffice; he needed a plan.

She was an old, wrinkled figure, her hair a wild tangle of gray and black. Her hands moved deftly over a cauldron, the contents bubbling and emitting a faint, sickly green glow.

Caelum's eyes narrowed as he observed her. She hadn't noticed him yet, engrossed in her potion brewing. He weighed his options. Engaging her directly could be risky; witches were unpredictable. But he couldn't leave her here, not when she could pose a threat.

Tilting her head, the witch, as if attuned to an inaudible whisper, slowly turned towards Caelum. Her movement was unsettling, almost otherworldly. As she faced him, her eerie, poison-green eyes locked onto his, sending a shiver down his spine. Her face, deeply lined with age, had a sinister quality to it, her long, hooked nose adding to her intimidating presence.

"Shit!" Caelum cursed under his breath. He scanned her skills again, his mind racing. "Spirit Communion!" The realization hit him hard. She must have used spirits as sentinels to secure the perimeter, alerting her to his presence.

Panicked, Caelum turned to dash outside, only to slam into an invisible barrier. "Fuck! Fuck!" he spat, the words tumbling out in frustration. He realized he was trapped; the witch had ensnared him in some kind of spell.

The witch rose from her seat, her movements smooth despite her apparent age. Her lips curled into a twisted smile as she began to chant in an ancient, guttural language. The air in the cabin grew thick, almost suffocating, as if the very atmosphere was being twisted by her dark magic.

Caelum felt the hairpin weapon in his hand, the bamboo tube his only defense against the witch's unknown powers. He knew it worked best at close range, and he would have to close the distance between them to use it effectively. His eyes darted around the cabin, looking for anything that could give him an advantage.

"Who are you, and why do you trespass in my abode?" The witch's voice was raspy yet clear, cutting through the tension like a knife.

"I am Shadow," he replied, trying to maintain a facade of confidence. "I thought this cabin was abandoned. I meant no intrusion."