Then what happened?

But then, a shining light enveloped Beltan’s form, burning him for the briefest moment, before a wild illusion appeared in front of his eyes, and the formerly detrimental Holy magic stopped harming him at all.

As Beltan gazed upon the odd apparition before him, noticed the words and number which he was most familiar with, bringing great shame to him.

But before he could react to the rest of it, he was besieged by more.

Besides his body being strengthened by a great degree, his newly average intelligence told him to try something out.

As Beltan walked to the side of the room, he opened the sheer curtain, fully revealing the massive library to him.

Beltan walked up to a random aisle, grabbing a book from the shelves at random, and after a moment, something appeared, leaving a toothy, smug grin on Beltan’s face.

After flailing about for a bit, Beltan clicked YES, and then, he had an epiphanous experience, suddenly having immaculate knowledge of every aspect of the Sword Sage Style, to the fundamental degree, but that wasn’t disparaging its might, only denoting its endless potential for improvement, though Beltan had no knowledge of this yet.

He only knew he’d gained immense skills by clicking the button, so Beltan began scouring through the immense collection of literature.

…

After five hours of searching through the books, he’d obtained those skills, though when he tried to use Pyrokinesis, his mana disappeared with a single burst of flame.

And with that single miniscule usage, Beltan dropped to the floor, ****, his face smashing into the stone surface.

…

After over three hours of sleeping off both the mana usage and the ****, Beltan rose from the ground, beginning to make his way back to the cell, and when he reached it, he braced himself and leapt the near forty foot distance in a single bound, landing on the edge handily.

Beltan then took around two more hours to collect most, if not all, of the items in the cellar, before making his way to the door, grabbing the handle, and unceremoniously shattering it in his grip.

He then grabbed the door by the hinges, and tore it from its spot, tossing it to the side, before exiting the cottage, for what would be the last time.

As he was walking through the brush once again, he simply leapt through it, and after less than a minute, he was within walking distance from the camp.

As Beltan began trotting towards the camp gate, he heard angry shouting from within, which wasn’t inherently odd, but his name was being shouted consistently, by many distinct voices, all with vitriol laced in their tone.

As he made his way to the source of the shouting, a large group was speaking with the council, and as soon as someone saw him, he was motioned into the council’s war tent, being shoved to his knees before them, the hammer still loosely in his grip.

“What is this about, fath…” Beltan began greeting his father in their usual manner, but he was interrupted with a particularly incensed reaction.

“Shut up, boy! The council shall decide your fate. Silence yourself, before they do it for you.” A seething gaze was directed at him, by not only his father, but seemingly, every other councilman, as well.

After a brief moment of silence after his father’s outburst, the council began speaking.

“You, Beltan Greatfang, have disgraced your tribe, and your line.” One grizzled figure shouted first.

Followed by another, “Your disgrace, and your incompetence, far outweighs your strength.”

Then, the eternally silent Greatelder spoke, drawing gasps from the gathered crowd, “You have earned a choice. One, you’ll be slain in the gallows, like a dog, or two, you fight your way free, and if you succeed, you may become the new elder. What is your choice?” The surprisingly patient voice asked.

“Well… I’m not just gonna die. So I think it's pretty obvious.” Beltan spoke aggressively, shocking all present, though the Greatelder only guffawed, breaking into hearty laughter.

“Well, young Beltan, for your arrogance, I shall grant you a third option. Drop the hammer at your feet, and walk from this camp, as Beltan the Disgraced, though the second option will always be available.” As he finished, a random elder, walked up to Beltan to grab the hammer from him, but with a swift swing, that elder was swung at torrential speeds, landing a hundred feet away in a bloody heap.

As the countless Orcs prepared to besiege him, the Greatelder stopped them, as Beltan dropped the hammer to the ground, and turned away, beginning to walk away from the council grounds.

As he was leaving, he passed by his sludge pit, not too fond of it, he said bye, before reaching the gate, passing through it, and hearing it slam behind him, closed to him forever, or until he slew the Greatelder, whichever one came first.

As he began walking away from his home, a disgrace to his tribe, he reached into the Bag and grabbed a bottle of the strong stuff, and celebrated his newfound freedom, drinking it all in an instant, before reaching into the Bag for the largest sword he’d gotten from the cottage, a monstrous great sword, though still a tad small for him.

It was clearly heavily enchanted, to his delight, as he began swinging it wildly, before getting the hang of it, and initiating his new Sword Sage Style.

After a time of practicing his sword play, he returned it to the Bag, though its hilt was well within his reach.
As he was trotting down a path he’d never gone through.