AuthorShawnWilson

BTtNR - Book 3 - Chapter 038

The tunnel on the far side of the chamber descended at a steep angle. Stefi led the way, her crystal casting dancing shadows across the rough stone walls. Behind her, Einar kept his axes ready, every sense heightened as they moved deeper into goblin territory.

The smell grew worse with each step. The rot and waste that Bartia had mentioned became overpowering, making several Vikings gag. Einar breathed through his mouth, trying to filter out the worst of it, but the taste was almost as bad as the smell.

"How do they live in this?" Osvif muttered, his voice muffled by the cloth he'd tied across his face.

"They prefer it," Bartia replied from further back in the line. "The worse it smells to us, the more comfortable they feel."

The tunnel twisted and turned, branching off in multiple directions. Stefi never hesitated, her knowledge of these shafts evident in how confidently she navigated. At each intersection they passed, more tracks and signs of goblin presence were visible.

After twenty minutes of descent, the tunnel opened into another chamber. This one was larger than the first, easily a hundred feet across. But unlike the natural cavern before, this space showed evidence of goblin habitation.

Crude structures made from bones and scavenged metal leaned against the walls. Scraps of what might have once been clothing or leather hung from makeshift racks. And everywhere, covering almost every surface, were more bones.

"They've been here a while," Yulgas said quietly, his blue eyes scanning the chamber. "This isn't a temporary nest. This is a colony."

Stefi held up her hand, and the group stopped. The eight-foot-tall dwarf knelt, studying something on the ground. When she looked up, her expression was grim.

"The tracks split here. Some go left toward the ore vein. Others go straight ahead, deeper into their nest."

"How many total?" Einar asked, moving to crouch beside her.

"More than fifty," Stefi replied. "Maybe as many as a hundred. And these..." She pointed to a set of tracks that were larger than the others, each claw mark deeper in the stone. "These are from something bigger. A leader, maybe. Or a war boss."

That's bad. Very bad.

Thorodd moved up beside Einar. "We could split up. Half go for the ore, half clear the nest."

"No," Einar said immediately. "We stay together. Splitting up is exactly what they want us to do."

"So what's the plan?" Avitue asked, her hand resting on her sword's hilt.

Einar studied the chamber, his mind working through options. They needed the ore, but leaving a goblin nest at their backs was suicide. On the other hand, fighting through a hundred goblins in their own territory would cost lives.

"We secure the ore vein first," Einar decided. "Get the miners working. Set up a defensive perimeter. Then we deal with the nest."

"That'll take hours," Yulgas said. "The goblins won't just sit and wait."

"No, they won't," Einar agreed. "Which is why we're going to give them something to think about first."

He turned to Skardi. "Take five warriors. Make noise. Make them think we're a larger force than we are. Draw them toward the ore vein, but don't engage unless you have to. Lead them into our defensive position."

Skardi grinned, his massive frame seeming to swell with anticipation. "Finally, something fun."

"Don't die," Einar added. "Dying would ruin the fun."

"I'll do my best," the giant Viking replied.

As Skardi selected his warriors and moved toward the deeper tunnel, Einar turned to the rest. "Everyone else, we move fast to the ore vein. Yulgas, how long to mine three carts' worth?"

"If we work non-stop? Four hours. Maybe five."

"Then we'd better make sure those are the quietest five hours of our lives," Einar stated.

They moved left, following Stefi through a tunnel that gradually widened. The pick marks on the walls became more numerous here, showing where dwarves had worked the stone centuries ago. Veins of ore glinted in the crystal's light, thin threads of metal running through the rock.

"We're close," Yulgas said, his voice carrying a note of excitement despite the danger.

The tunnel opened into a massive chamber. Unlike the others, this one had been deliberately carved, with the ceiling reinforced by stone pillars. Old mining equipment lay scattered around—carts with broken wheels, picks with shattered handles, coils of rope that had rotted with age.

And along the far wall, visible even in the dim light, was the ore vein. It ran from floor to ceiling, a thick band of dark metal that pulsed with a faint inner glow. Einar had never seen anything like it.

"By the gods," Thorodd breathed. "That's..."

"Dwarven steel," Yulgas finished, his voice almost reverent. "In its rawest form. That vein alone could make weapons for a hundred warriors."

Bartia was already moving toward it, her hammer in hand. "We need to set up the work area. Clear the debris, get the carts positioned."

"Do it," Einar commanded. "Thorodd, set up defensive positions at every entrance to this chamber. I count three tunnels. Block two, defend the third."

"Which one stays open?" Thorodd asked.

"The one Skardi's going to lead the goblins through."

His second-in-command grinned. "You're using him as bait."

"I'm using him as a lure," Einar corrected. "There's a difference."

As his warriors moved to their positions, Einar studied the chamber. It was defensible, but barely. The tunnels were wide enough that goblins could pour through multiple at once. The ceiling was high enough that they couldn't easily prevent climbing attacks. And the scattered equipment provided cover for enemies as much as for his people.

This is going to get messy.

Vidar approached, his expression concerned. "My section is ready, but Einar... if they come from multiple directions at once..."

"Then we fight from multiple directions at once," Einar replied. "That's why I positioned your warriors in the center. You're our reserve. Wherever the line breaks, you plug it."

The pack leader nodded and moved back to his warriors.

Einar walked to where Yulgas and three other dwarves were beginning to work the ore vein. The sound of picks striking stone echoed through the chamber, each strike ringing like a bell.

"How loud is this going to be?" Einar asked.

Yulgas paused mid-swing. "Loud enough that every goblin in these tunnels will know we're here."

"Then we'd better be ready for company."

A whistle echoed from one of the tunnels. Einar recognized it as Skardi's signal. The giant had made contact.

"Positions!" Einar shouted. "They're coming!"

Vikings rushed to their assigned spots. Shields locked together. Weapons came up. The miners kept working, their picks never slowing despite the approaching danger.

The sound came first. Screeching, high-pitched and grating, echoing through the tunnels. Then the skittering of claws on stone, dozens of them, moving fast.

Einar moved to the main tunnel entrance, the one they'd left unblocked. Thorodd stood beside him, his massive frame a wall of muscle and armor.

"Here they come," Thorodd said calmly.

The darkness in the tunnel seemed to writhe. Then shapes began to emerge. Small, twisted forms that moved with unnatural speed came toward them. Goblins poured into the chamber, their yellow eyes glowing in the dim light.

They were smaller than Einar had expected, perhaps four feet tall, but what they lacked in size, they made up for in numbers. Dozens spilled through the tunnel entrance, their clawed hands gripping crude weapons—jagged daggers, broken swords, clubs studded with nails.

Behind them came Skardi and his warriors, running at full speed. The giant Viking's laugh echoed over the goblin screeches.

"Thought you might want some company!" Skardi bellowed as he and his group burst past the first line of goblins that were running toward the sound of mining.

The goblins followed, their attention now locked on the fleeing Vikings. They never saw the trap until it was too late.

"Now!" Einar roared.

The shield wall at the tunnel entrance shifted, opening gaps just wide enough for spears to thrust through. Vikings struck with practiced precision, their weapons finding goblin flesh. The creatures screamed and died, but more kept coming, trampling their own dead in their eagerness to reach their prey.

Einar stepped forward, his axes already moving. The first goblin that reached him died before it could raise its weapon, his blade taking its head cleanly. The second lasted only marginally longer, his other axe crushing its skull with a single blow.

But there were too many.

For every goblin that fell, two more took its place. They climbed over their dead, using the bodies as stepping stones to reach higher. Some tried to scale the walls, their claws finding purchase in tiny cracks.

"Ceiling!" someone shouted.

Einar looked up. Goblins were dropping from above, having climbed along the tunnel ceiling to bypass the shield wall. They fell among the Vikings, their daggers finding gaps in armor.

A warrior screamed as a goblin landed on his back, its blade driving down toward his neck. Avitue was there in an instant, her sword taking the creature's arm off before it could strike.

The chamber descended into chaos.

Goblins seemed to be everywhere. The defensive positions held, but barely. Vikings fought in tight groups, covering each other as the creatures swarmed from multiple directions.

Einar moved through the battle, his axes never stopping. Fire erupted along the blades as he channeled wyrd into them, the flames making the goblins shriek and recoil. Beside him, Thorodd was a force of nature, his hammer crushing skulls with each swing.

A goblin larger than the others emerged from the tunnel. This one stood nearly six feet tall, its body covered in scars. It carried a weapon that had clearly been taken from a dwarf—a war hammer that glowed with runic power.

The goblin war boss.

It locked eyes with Einar across the chamber. Then it roared, a sound that made the other goblins redouble their attacks.

"That one's mine!" Einar shouted, pointing at the war boss.

He pushed through the horde of bodies, cutting down goblins as he moved. The war boss waited for him, its lips pulling back to reveal rows of needle-sharp teeth.

They met in the center of the chamber, weapons clashing with a sound like thunder. The war boss was stronger than it had any right to be. Each blow from its hammer sent shockwaves up Einar's arms.

They circled each other, trading strikes. The war boss was fast, faster than the stone trolls they'd fought before. It used its smaller size as an advantage, ducking under Einar's swings and striking at his legs.

One blow got through, catching Einar's thigh. Pain exploded through his leg, and he stumbled. The war boss saw its opening and lunged.

Einar dropped low, letting the hammer pass over his head. As the war boss committed to its attack, he drove both axes up, catching the creature under its ribcage.

The war boss staggered back, black blood pouring from the wounds. But it wasn't done. With a snarl, it swung its hammer in a wide arc, forcing Einar to jump back.

They're tougher than they look.

The war boss charged, its hammer raised high. Einar waited, timing his move. At the last instant, he sidestepped, letting the hammer crash into the stone floor. While the war boss was off-balance, Einar struck.

His first axe took the creature's weapon arm at the elbow. His second took its head.

The war boss fell, and with it, the fighting spirit of the remaining goblins broke. The creatures that had been pressing forward suddenly turned and fled, scrambling back into the tunnels.

"Let them go!" Einar commanded as some Vikings moved to pursue. "Stay in position!"

The chamber fell silent except for the heavy breathing of warriors and the steady ring of picks against stone as the miners continued their work.

Einar looked around. They'd held. The defensive positions were battered but intact. He could see several warriors being tended by healers, their wounds ranging from minor cuts to serious gashes.

"Casualties?" he asked.

"Two dead," Thorodd reported, his voice grim. "Five seriously wounded. Another dozen with minor injuries."

Not bad, considering. But not good either.

"Get the dead ready for transport back," Einar said. "We'll revive them once we're out of here. Healers, do what you can for the wounded. Everyone else, reinforce the barricades. They'll be back."

Yulgas approached, his face streaked with dust and sweat. "We've barely started on the ore. This is going to take hours."

"Then we hold for hours," Einar replied simply.

He looked at the tunnel where the goblins had fled. Somewhere in that darkness, they were regrouping. Planning their next attack. And when they came again, they'd be ready for the Vikings' tactics.

This is far from over.

Einar moved to the ore vein, watching the dwarves work. Each strike of their picks sent sparks flying, and slowly, chunks of raw ore began to pile at their feet.

They had come for metal. They had come to prove Vikings could adapt and overcome.

Now they just had to survive long enough to finish the job.

He tightened his grip on his axes and turned back toward the tunnel entrance.

Whatever came next, they'd be ready.

UL1 - Book 11 - Chapter 078 -

“The good news is you know she made it,” Jazzjak stated. “The flow of DP, even if small, is a sign that they succeeded.”

Max nodded. He could feel the muscles in his face relaxing as he stopped clenching his teeth. “I know… It’s just been… weird,” he replied. “I mean, it’s only been nine months. I can’t tell you how many times Tanila and I find ourselves standing in her room. Everything is there as she left it, and I think I finally understand how my parents must have felt.”

The vorpal rabbit moved to the chair next to Max's and plopped down. He scooched back into the seat and sighed. “I hadn’t really thought much of my family in almost 80,000 years. With how time works and the gods I’ve tried to help… things like family aren’t usually important to them. We’re barely over a hundred years, and I’ve witnessed more concern from you all than I have from all the other gods combined. Remember, three hundred years isn’t that long. Besides, you and I helped make sure that Miranna and the others knew how to proceed. Whatever helper they get is going to owe me if we ever meet.”

Max cocked his head at those words, glancing at Jazzjak. “You and the other… helpers. Do you spend time with each other if there are no gods? Or like how does that work?”

Jazzjak’s ears twitched as he leaned back in the chair. “Every helper’s story is different, Max, but there’s one thing that’s always the same. When the god we’re bound to dies, we die too. Not just our body. Everything about us gets stripped back into the System.”

Max frowned. “Stripped back how? You mean like you just vanish?”

“Worse.” Jazzjak rubbed at his whiskers. “It’s like being unmade. There’s a moment of nothing—then you’re pulled into the System. I can’t explain it in words that make sense to you. No time. No body. No self. Just… waiting.”

Max leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “So you’re aware?”

“Yes and no.” Jazzjak gave a short laugh. “I know it happened because I can remember dying, and I can remember waking again with a new god. But in between? It isn’t days or years. I don’t remember even having dreams. It’s as if I blinked; thousands of years passed, and I wouldn’t have known. The System doesn’t let us linger in that state with our thoughts. We’re stored, then retrieved when a new god needs a helper. That’s all.”

Max let out a slow breath, his jaw tightening again. “That’s… brutal.”

“It is.” Jazzjak’s ears sagged. “Though I suppose it keeps us sane. Imagine remembering centuries of drifting alone.” The vorpal rabbit shook his head. “I’ve had many gods over my lifetime. Each time, I wake and serve again.”

I can imagine in a small way what that is like.

Yet you have said before that you don’t remember anything from those previous times.

I do not, and yet I remember more now because of our time together. The stronger I’ve become, the more I remember. There is still much I do not know. Part of me wonders what it is like to be in that… void. To have no awareness, to be silent, and have no thoughts.

A sensation of something, like Bob wishing for it, washed over Max. 

Is that something you desire?

Part of me might say yes, while the other part does not. I can imagine what kind of chaos I and the other black skills must have caused during our previous existences. How many lives have we removed from the system? I wouldn’t spend much time worried about those things, yet listening to Jazzjak, I am curious about why the System does what it does.

Because everything comes down to power… why waste it?

Exactly.

Max rubbed at the back of his neck. “Do you know how many helpers exist?”

Jazzjak shrugged. “No. None of us does. I’ve wondered, but the System doesn’t let us share that knowledge. The only thing I know is that I never waited long. Not by my sense of things, anyway. Maybe that means there aren’t enough helpers to go around. Maybe it means too many gods die. Either way, I never sat in that void for what felt like more than an instant.”

It would explain the turnover we’ve seen. For every god rising, another must have fallen. A balance. A cycle. You’ve killed multiple gods in such a short period of time, yet there appears to be a consequence for doing so. In fact, the entire system is designed for you and the other gods to wage war or fight each other.  

Max didn’t disagree, but he kept his focus on Jazzjak. “Tell me something else. When you served other gods… did you ever interact with outsiders? Other gods who came visiting?”

The rabbit shook his head hard enough that his ears flopped. “No. Never. Gods guard their helpers jealously. A helper is an anchor. We advise, we watch, we help maintain order. But if another god ever had a chance to interfere? It would be dangerous.”

“Dangerous how?” Max asked.

“They could kill us,” Jazzjak replied. “If that happened, the god we served would have to pay the System’s price to make another. Divine Points aren’t free. Losing a helper weakens a god in more ways than one. That’s why they keep us hidden. Why most helpers never meet anyone outside their god’s faction.”

The pieces in Max’s head clicked together. He remembered Nerdok—smiling too much, offering help too freely, always watching with those sharp eyes. The gnome had never acted like Jazzjak, never carried himself like someone bound to rules.

Max sat up. “Then Nerdok isn’t a helper at all.”

Jazzjak blinked. “What?”

“He’s a god pretending to be one,” Max stated.. “Think about it. You said it yourself—no god lets others touch their helper. It’s too much of a risk. But Nerdok? He shows up, claims to be a helper, and pretends to be one of you. What if he’s just wearing the role like a mask?”

Jazzjak’s fur bristled, and he sat back, staring at the ceiling. For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then he exhaled through his nose. “That… makes sense.” His whiskers twitched in a way Max had only seen a few times in a hundred years. “It makes a dangerous kind of sense.”

“Dangerous?”

“Max…” Jazzjak said, leaning forward. “If a god is willing to pretend to be a helper, it means they want something another god has. Why else get so close? Helpers see everything. You and the rest don’t hold back much from me because you need my help to choose the right path forward. We’re trusted. If a god is pretending to be one of us, they’re trying to spy, manipulate, maybe even sabotage.”

Max’s chest felt tighter as he listened to his helper and friend. “So Nerdok’s been sitting there this whole time, watching, and waiting. I mean, it seemed like he was helping… but was he really?”

“I don’t like it,” Jazzjak replied. “A god masquerading as a helper—what happens if the System allows it? If it doesn’t step in? That means the game is dirtier than I imagined.”

We should assume the System knows what Nerdok was doing. It knows everything, even the subtle tricks we use to convey things rather than speak about them. Which means it allows that charade, if that is what is happening. What’s worse is we’re not certain if Nerdok was just clever or if he is playing us.

Max clenched a fist, his knuckles cracking. “But why? What does Nerdok gain? I mean, if he is one of the gods from that world, then he gave us a fake black-hole bomb. He could have sent us home empty-handed.”

Most likely, it has to do with access. He can watch how you grow. Learn your weaknesses. See who you trust. He could whisper advice that pushes you toward traps. Or gather information to use later. If you didn’t ever find out what he was, how long might that ruse go on? We already considered returning and seeing what items we could purchase to bring back here and craft with.

Jazzjak spoke up, not knowing that Max’s skill had just finished talking. “No one would suspect a god playing that role. Honestly, you're the only god who has ever spent time asking questions outside of—where do I spend my DP or what comes next. Who questions a helper? We’re basically furniture or something even less to most gods. Sure, we’re always there, always loyal. Our lives revolve around you and I would never think about betraying you unless I had a reason. And that reason would have to be something I was willing to die for. To think someone might be lying about being one—it unsettles me.”

Max studied his helper and friend. Jazzjak was shifting in a way Max had never seen before. The normally calm advisor looked… smaller.

“We need to decide what to do about it,” Max said.

We could confront him directly. Ask if he’s a god. See how he reacts.

“Bob thinks we should confront him. But what if we kept quiet and watched,” Max said.  “We could let Nerdok think we don’t suspect. That way, he keeps showing his hand without realizing we’re aware of it.”

Jazzjak’s nose danced how it sometimes did. “If you ask him outright, I doubt he would answer truthfully. He’d probably lie about it or give some other reason. Even if you requested him to summon some of the other gods, he might make it happen and they might also be in on this ruse.  In the end, you’ll put him on alert. From what you told me, the world is old and Nerdok will know how to twist the question back on you. And if the System allows him to play this role, then speaking it aloud might trigger some punishment on your end, not his.”

“So either way it’s a trap.”

“Exactly.” Jazzjak replied. “If Nerdok is a god pretending to be a helper, then he’s already ahead of us. The only choice we have is whether to play along or try to rip his mask off. Neither is safe.”

That is our advantage—we know now. He most likely won't think we suspect him of being anything more than what he claims to be. That’s real power. Knowledge that no one else has.

Max exhaled slowly. He didn’t like being stalked; he didn’t like the idea of someone worming their way into his plans. But Bob was right. Knowing was better than not.

“Then we’ll watch him. If he slips and tries to make a move towards us, at least we’ll have some warning. That also leads me to wonder about other things. A planet that allows travelers, even world champions. Set up for us to come, trading and purchasing things.  But what do those gods get from all that?” Max asked. “I guess one day I’ll force him to answer the question for real.”

Jazzjak’s whiskers twitched again. “That’s a dangerous plan, but it may be the only path you have right now. I’ll help however I can. You already know that you’re not the first god to be hunted by another. But you may be the first who knows it early enough to turn the game back on their hunter.”

Max leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. 

Bob’s presence stirred inside him. 

We can handle this. We’ve handled far worse. The difference is that this isn’t a beast or a tower guardian we’re facing. This is a god on their home world and we don’t know how strong he might be. We’ll need to treat him like an animal we both know could turn on us at any moment. Unlike that oversized owl, who we didn’t know was there until he decided to show himself, we know about Nerdok.

“Thank you, Jazzjak,” Max said softly. “You may have just prevented me from stumbling into a hole I couldn’t see.”

“What are helpers for?” the vorpal rabbit asked, his red eyes glowing. “I mean, besides getting stronger the longer you stay alive?”

Monday - Week update

So - Perhaps you've noticed a slight uptick in my output. I'll get to that at the bottom of the post but here's some updates:

Ultimate Level 1 - Book 11 is cruising. (book 10 just finished recording - just needs edits... crazy). I'm again set for 7 days a week till Nov 30th atm on Book 11. Need to write/edit some more and upload but we're good for a while.

Loopbreaker Book 2 - Again, we're cruising, 7 days a week till Dec 2nd atm. I may go 5 days at that point, we'll see. Depends on if I can keep my output where it is right now.

Battle through the 9 realms - Wow.. getting back to this series was crazy and I'm happy to say that right now I'm writing chapter 41 , so you've got some chapters coming. Felt weird after being off it for so long, but was happy to get back to it.

The Creation of Arin - I think I have 24 chapters done... not sure. I'd have to double check but my brains firing on all cylinders right now, so I'll pass.

You might say - "Shawn, wth happened?"

So last year my wife said I was distracted and focused too much on writing. She was right. I have ADHD and hyper focus. I focus on what i like and the rest of the world kind of fades away. That was how I wrote 2 million words in a year.

So she had me talk to a psychiatrist. They gave me Adderall. It was good but not really. It messed up another med i took, so that doctor upped that med. That in turn made the Adderall not work, so my ADHD med got bumped up.

During all this, no one realized what was happening. I was getting frustrated, anxious, overwhelmed and like the hulk in that I was always charged. My ability to make good decisions, say no, and basic common sense started to fail. Thing's I'd never say or do happened and I couldn't stop it.

At the end of august I had a mental break down. I broke. Even after that I was still so amped and charged. My wife was right in her assessment of calling me an 'asshole' during these moments. I can't remember some of the stuff I did or said and I cringe when I think about how I was.

And today, I sit here after 5 days of no adhd medicine. I feel like a new person. Gone is my frustration, my hyper sensitivity and all of that other stuff. I'm back to my easy going self and don't get worked up like I did.

I'm also dreaming like I once did. That sounds crazy to some but it is what feeds and funnels the stories I write to the pages. In 5 days I'm at 94k words... more than I've done in most months.

So i'm in a good place, writing again, working on multiple stories.

Thanks for listening, thanks for supporting me.

Chapter 15 - The Creation of Arin

Arin's remaining mass in the pine tree watched in horror as a chunk of his body plummeted toward the wolves.

The level six wolf lunged forward, jaws snapping shut on a large section of the falling slime. It shook its head violently, tearing the gelatinous mass apart and scattering red droplets across the forest floor.

[ -42 Mass ]

The pain was immediate and overwhelming. Arin felt himself being torn in two, his consciousness splitting between the section still in the tree and the section being destroyed below. It was disorienting, terrifying, like watching himself die while still being alive.

The other wolves joined in, pawing and biting at the scattered pieces of slime. Each attack severed more of Arin's connection to those lost sections, until finally they were just inert globs of red jelly on the ground, no longer part of him at all.

More mass tore free as Arin desperately tried to pull the rest of himself up into the tree. The wolves were relentless, leaping and snapping at any tendril that hung too low.

[ -18 Mass ]

[ Current Mass: 89% of base ]

[ Current Essence: 62/120 ]

Over half my essence, drained trying to hold myself together. And I'm smaller than when I first entered the forest!

The wolves looked up at the remaining section of Arin's body in the pine tree. The level eight wolf growled, a deep rumbling sound that promised more violence to come. It backed up again, preparing for another charge.

Arin didn't wait. He pulled his remaining mass tight and launched himself toward the next tree, not bothering with a careful tendril connection. It was a desperate leap, his compressed body flying through the air like a thrown ball.

He hit a branch on the neighboring oak and immediately began flowing upward, climbing as fast as his damaged body would allow. Behind him, the sound of the wolf slamming into the pine tree echoed through the forest.

The tree shook but held. The wolf hadn't managed to knock it down, just rattle it.

Keep moving. Don't stop. Don't let them corner me again.

Arin pushed through the pain and confusion, moving from tree to tree, always heading toward areas where the canopy was denser. His reduced mass actually helped now, making him lighter, faster, and more able to navigate thin branches that would have struggled to support his previous weight.

The wolves followed below, their howls coordinating the hunt. Arin could hear more joining them, the pack assembling to take down this strange prey that refused to die easily.

After ten minutes of frantic movement, Arin finally reached a section of forest where the oaks and maples grew so close together that their branches formed an almost continuous pathway. He moved quickly through this natural highway, putting distance between himself and the pursuing wolves.

The howls grew more distant, then stopped entirely. The wolves had lost his trail, or perhaps decided the effort wasn't worth the meager meal he'd provide now.

Arin kept moving for another hour anyway, not trusting the silence. When he finally stopped, collapsing into a hollow high in an ancient oak, his entire being felt wrong and diminished and damaged in ways that went beyond simple mass loss.

[ Current Mass: 89% of base ]

[ Current Essence: 58/120 ]

I barely escaped. If that canopy hadn't been there, if the trees had been spaced any further apart...

Arin didn't want to finish that thought. He was alive, but just barely. And he'd learned another painful lesson about the dangers of this forest.

His mass felt disconnected, like parts of him weren't responding properly. The trauma of being torn apart had done something to his core, made it harder to maintain cohesion. Even forming simple shapes required more effort than it should have.

I need time. Time to heal, to reconnect, to become whole again.

As consciousness faded toward sleep, Arin's last thought was bitter: I need to leave this area. The wolves own this territory, and I'm not strong enough to challenge them. Not yet.

***

Three days passed before Arin felt brave enough to move again.

He'd spent that time hunting only the smallest prey, insects and grubs that provided minimal mass and essence but required almost no effort or risk. Each small meal helped, not just with the numbers but with the integration. His core slowly learned to control his mass again, to make everything work together as it should.

The first day had been the worst. Simple tasks like climbing or forming a wedge had been exhausting, each movement draining essence at twice the normal rate. But by the second day, things began to improve. By the third, Arin felt almost like himself again.

[ Current Mass: 103% of base ]

[ Current Essence: 84/120 ]

Still not back to where I was before the wolves, but better. Stronger than I was right after the attack.

Arin emerged from his hollow in the early morning light, the forest quiet except for bird songs. He'd made a decision during his recovery: he needed to move on from this section of the Greenwold. The wolves were too dangerous, too numerous, and too territorial. Every day he stayed risked another encounter.

But which direction should he go?

Arin climbed to the highest branch of his oak tree and looked around. To the north, the forest seemed to grow denser, darker. To the south, he could see glimpses of lighter sky, suggesting the forest thinned out in that direction, possibly near farmland or roads.

East led deeper into the Greenwold, toward areas he hadn't explored. West led back toward Vyrdan, toward the city and the river he'd escaped from weeks ago.

I'm not ready to go back to the city. Not yet. And I don't want to leave the forest entirely. So east or north.

The decision came down to instinct. The darker, denser forest to the north felt more dangerous but also more isolated. Fewer humans, fewer adventurers, but probably more powerful creatures.

East felt like a middle ground. Still wild, still dangerous, but maybe not as extreme.

East it is.

Arin began traveling through the canopy, moving steadily in his chosen direction. He kept his pace moderate, conserving essence and staying alert for threats. His darkvision wasn't needed during the day, but his three-hundred-sixty-degree vision remained invaluable for spotting danger.

By midday, Arin noticed the forest changing. The trees were different species, more evergreens and fewer deciduous hardwoods. The undergrowth was thicker, more tangled, creating natural barriers that would make ground travel difficult for larger creatures.

Perfect for hiding. Perfect for someone like me.

As he traveled, Arin spotted various creatures going about their business. Deer, rabbits, squirrels, birds. All potential prey, but none were worth the risk while he was still recovering. He needed to be selective, to choose his battles carefully.

Then, as the sun began to descend toward the horizon, Arin saw something that made him stop completely.

Smoke. Rising from a clearing ahead, thin wisps that suggested a controlled fire rather than a wildfire.

Humans? Or something else?

Curiosity overcoming caution, Arin moved closer, staying high in the trees and using the densest foliage for cover. As he approached, voices became audible. Not the guttural sounds of goblins, but actual words in the Common tongue.

The clearing came into view, and Arin's core pulsed with surprise.

It was a camp, but not an adventurer's camp. This was larger, more permanent. There were five structures, crude but well-built, arranged in a rough circle around a central fire pit. People moved between the buildings, maybe a dozen in total.

But they weren't the organized, well-equipped adventurers Arin had seen before. These people wore mismatched clothing, some of it torn or patched. Their weapons were basic, hunting bows and skinning knives rather than swords and armor. And their faces carried the hard look of people who'd learned to survive outside the safety of town walls.

Woodcutters? Trappers? Or something else?

One figure caught Arin's attention. A woman with graying hair, bent over a large pot suspended above the fire. She was stirring something that smelled like stew, and around her feet, two children played with carved wooden toys.

A family camp. Or maybe several families, living out here in the forest.

Arin watched, fascinated. These weren't adventurers hunting monsters for profit. These were ordinary people trying to make a living in the wilderness. The kind of people Levi had wanted to help, had dreamed of aiding with his alchemy.

One of the men, tall and weathered, approached the fire carrying a freshly killed rabbit. He began skinning it with practiced efficiency, talking to the woman about something Arin couldn't quite hear from his distance.

As Arin observed, trying to understand what he was seeing, a child's voice rang out clearly: "Mama, what's that in the tree?"

The woman looked up, her eyes scanning the forest. Arin froze, making himself as small and still as possible.

"Where, sweetling?" the woman asked.

"That tree," the child pointed. "Something red."

Several adults turned to look in Arin's direction. Arin knew he should flee, should disappear before they could identify him. But something kept him frozen in place, watching as the tall man picked up a bow and nocked an arrow.

"Probably just a cardinal or some berries," the man said, but his tone was cautious. He took a few steps closer to Arin's tree, eyes narrowing as he tried to make out details in the canopy.

Then the man's eyes widened. "That's no bird," he said quietly. "Get the children inside. Now."

The camp erupted into controlled motion. The woman grabbed both children and hurried them toward one of the structures. Other adults grabbed weapons, forming a defensive line between the fire and Arin's position.

"Show yourself!" the tall man called out. "We've got you spotted, and we're armed. If you're intelligent, now's the time to prove it!"

Arin's mind raced. They'd seen him. They were afraid but also ready to fight. If he fled now, they might shoot at him. If he stayed, they might attack anyway.

But they'd asked if he was intelligent. That suggested they'd encountered thinking creatures before, creatures that could be reasoned with.

Could I communicate with them? Show them I'm not a threat?

Levi's voice echoed in Arin's memory: "The best fights are the ones you don't have."

Slowly, carefully, Arin began to flow down the tree trunk, keeping his movements deliberate and non-threatening. When he reached a branch about ten feet off the ground, roughly at the tall man's eye level, he stopped.

The man's bow remained drawn, arrow pointed at Arin's core. "What are you?" he asked, his voice steady despite the fear Arin could sense beneath it.

Arin couldn't speak. He had no voice, no way to form words. But he could move, could gesture.

He extended a thin tendril and began to write in the air, trying to form letters the way Levi had shown him during their training sessions. It was difficult, and his script was crude, but after several attempts, he managed to shape something recognizable.

F R E N D

The man's eyes widened. Behind him, one of the other adults gasped.

"It can write," someone whispered. "It's intelligent."

"That doesn't mean it's friendly," another voice said. "Could be a trick."

The tall man studied Arin for a long moment, his bow still drawn. Then, slowly, he lowered the weapon.

"I'm Gareth," he said. "These are my people. We mean you no harm if you mean us none. Can you understand me?"

Arin formed another word: Y E S

A murmur ran through the assembled humans. Gareth took a cautious step closer.

"Are you lost? Injured? Do you need help?"

How could Arin answer that? He was lost in a sense, wandering through a forest with no clear destination. He was injured, still recovering from the wolf attack. And he definitely needed help, though he wasn't sure what kind.

But admitting any of that felt dangerous. These humans might try to capture him, cage him, or worse if they knew how vulnerable he was.

Instead, Arin wrote: P A S T H R U H

"Passing through," Gareth repeated, nodding slowly. "Alright. You're welcome to rest near our camp if you need to. We don't have much, but we don't turn away travelers who come in peace."

The offer surprised Arin. He'd expected fear, hostility, maybe an attack. Not hospitality.

"Gareth, are you sure about this?" one of the other men asked. "We don't know what it is or where it came from."

"No," Gareth agreed. "But it can write, which means it can think. And it hasn't attacked us, even though it probably could have if it wanted to. I'd rather have a thinking creature as a neighbor than an enemy."

The logic was sound, but Arin could see the other humans weren't entirely convinced. Still, they deferred to Gareth's judgment, lowering their weapons and returning to their tasks, though many kept glancing nervously at Arin's tree.

Arin remained where he was, unsure what to do next. The invitation to rest near the camp was genuine, but accepting it meant exposing himself to potential danger. These humans might seem friendly now, but that could change quickly.

On the other hand, they had information. They lived out here in the forest, knew its rhythms and dangers. And they were the first people Arin had communicated with since Levi's death.

The loneliness he'd been pushing down, ignoring in favor of survival, suddenly felt overwhelming. Here were people, actual people, who weren't immediately trying to kill him. Who'd offered hospitality, however cautious.

Arin made his decision. He flowed down from the tree, staying at the edge of the clearing but visible to the humans. Then he formed more letters, this time on the ground where everyone could see:

T A N K Y U

Gareth smiled, though the expression was tinged with wariness. "You're welcome, friend. What should we call you?"

A R I N

"Arin," Gareth repeated. "Welcome to our camp, Arin. Let's hope this is the start of something good for both of us."

As the humans returned fully to their evening routines, casting occasional glances at their unusual visitor, Arin settled into a hollow in a nearby tree. He was still wary, still uncertain, but also hopeful in a way he hadn't been since leaving Vyrdan.

Maybe, just maybe, he'd found something important out here in the forest. Not just survival, but the beginning of something more.

Connection. Purpose. A reason to keep living beyond simple existence.

Only time would tell.

UL1 - Book 11 - Chapter 077a -

Miranna stood there, her fingers a few inches from the crystal that she had read about.  Five watchers all sat there, unmoving, none speaking. Each of them seemed to be holding their breath as she was.

It was comical, seeing a demon, a dwarf, a dragonkin, a human, and a half-elf as a reflection of their party sitting on those chairs.  Each one had the thread of power that flowed into their head and out the bottom of their chair.

“Touch it,” the female half-elf Archon said.

Without waiting another moment, Miranna pressed both her hands against the oversized crystal and felt her body suffer under the assault of something that felt vaguely familiar to the day of her System awakening.

The galaxies or other worlds that she had read about flowed through her mind as if she were able to watch this as the power of the System flowed through her.

[ Divine System Initiated ]

[ Scanning Champion - Miranna Hoste ]

[ System has detected abnormalities ]

[ Being possesses a skill not expected ]

[ Being possesses two bloodlines and a Divine essence ]

[ Multiple System skills present ]

[ Unique Bloodline’s present ]

[ Watcher Presence Detected ]

[ Divine System Overridden ]

[ Champion - Miranna Hoste - Assessment Paused ]

Pain continued to assault her as whatever was taking place continued.

Miranna could hear words, yet her ability to understand most of them was drowned out, the torment of her moment overwhelming her senses.

Through it all, a few things that were said came through.

“It’s outside… rules… dangerous… death.”

[ Assessment Resumed ]

[ Champion Status Re-Initiated ]

[ Watcher Presence Detected ]

[ Champion - Miranna Hoste Registered ]

[ Skills Available for Selection ]

[ Proceed to Starter World ]

[ Yes / No ]

She stumbled backwards, clutching her chest with both hands as if someone had just kicked her there.  

Five sets of glowing eyes stared at her, none of the watchers spoke, yet Miranna could sense something inside her that left her… scared.

“What… what did you do?”

“The time has come for your ascension, Miranna Hoste,” the dragonkin said. “Know you are… an anomaly.”

“We do not discuss these things with them,” the male dwarf Archon stated. “She must leave. Her time is done.”

Miranna saw that none of their expressions changed. When they spoke, it was as if they were staring at a blank wall. “But–”

“You must go,” the demon said, cutting her off. “Do not force us to cast you out. You will not like that.”

Nodding, Miranna selected the choice to leave, knowing that whatever had happened, the warning Bob and her father had given her had come true.

I’ll find you, Mom and Dad… soon.

[ Yes ]

[ Transporting to Starter World ]

BTtNR - Book 3 - Chapter 037

"So let me understand this," Skardi said, leaning back against the stone wall of their quarters. "You got to meet the High King of the Dwarves, probably got to see things none of us will ever witness, and all you can tell us is that he's big and has a nice beard?"

Einar chuckled as he checked the edge on one of his axes. "What else would you have me say? That his throne is carved from a single piece of mountain? That the hall leading to it could fit half of Kopanes inside?"

"Yes!" Osvif exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "Those are exactly the kinds of details we want to hear!"

Thorodd snorted from where he sat, methodically checking the straps on his armor. "You two sound like children begging for a bedtime story."

"Says the man who asked three times how tall the doors were," Avitue pointed out, a smile tugging at her lips as she worked oil into the leather straps of her shield.

"That's different," Thorodd muttered. "I needed to know for tactical purposes."

"Tactical purposes," Skardi repeated, grinning. "Is that what we're calling curiosity now?"

The banter felt good. In a few hours, they would descend into the mine shafts with Yulgas and his dwarven crew. The mission was simple in concept but would be brutal in execution. Clear out whatever creatures had infested the deeper tunnels and secure enough ore to begin trading for the weapons and armor they desperately needed.

Einar set his axe aside and looked at his pack. They were ready. Each warrior had checked their gear twice already, but the nervous energy made them check again. It was a ritual he understood well.

"The Stone Father gave us three tasks," Einar said, his voice carrying across the room. "The first two we can complete. Yulgas needs ore from the deep shafts. Stenri needs the caravan routes secured. Both require us to prove Vikings can adapt and overcome challenges that traditional dwarven tactics haven't solved."

"And the third task?" Vidar asked from the doorway, the pack leader having just arrived with his section.

"That one he'll tell us about when we've earned it." Einar met each warrior's gaze. "But it's the one that will secure us everything we need. An alliance with the dwarves. Their metal. Their knowledge. Their support when Ragnarok comes."

The room fell silent.

"No pressure then," Skardi finally said, breaking the tension. "Just have to go into a goblin-infested mine, fight creatures in the dark, and not die. Should be a normal day for us."

Laughter rippled through the group.

"Speaking of dying," Jepi said, entering with her section of warriors behind her. "I've already told my healers to prepare for multiple resurrections. Samansa is convinced we'll lose at least five before we reach the bottom."

"Only five?" Thorodd asked. "She's being optimistic."

Avitue stood, rolling her shoulders. "Then we'd better make sure we're worth the effort of bringing back.”

“She’s right,” Einar said. “Everyone, hurry up and finish their final gear check. We leave in an hour."

***

The entrance to the mine shaft was unlike anything Einar had expected.

Where he had imagined a dark hole carved into rock, instead stood a massive archway thirty feet tall and twice as wide. Runes covered the surface, glowing with a soft blue light that pulsed like a heartbeat. The stone itself had been polished smooth, and intricate carvings depicted dwarves mining, forging, and building.

"This is one of the original shafts," Yulgas said, his voice filled with pride. The blonde-bearded dwarf stood beside Einar, his chain armor gleaming in the rune light. "My ancestors carved this entrance over eight thousand years ago. Every dwarf who works in the mines passes through here at least once."

Beside Yulgas stood Stefi and Bartia. The two dwarves would be accompanying them into the depths. Bartia, whom they had traveled with before, gave Einar a nod of recognition. Her presence was reassuring. She knew how Vikings fought and had proven herself capable during their journey to Kvellholl.

"How deep are we going?" Thorodd asked, his eyes tracking the runes along the archway.

"Deep enough that the air will change," Yulgas replied. "Deep enough that you'll feel the mountain pressing down on you. Deep enough that if something goes wrong, climbing back up will take hours."

"You're really selling this," Osvif muttered.

Yulgas grinned, his teeth white against his blonde beard. "I'm not trying to scare you. I'm trying to prepare you. The creatures down there aren't like the goblins you've fought on the surface. These ones have adapted to the dark. They hunt in ways that make dwarven tactics ineffective."

"Which is why you need us," Einar said.

"Which is why I need you," Yulgas agreed. "My people are strong. We can fight in the dark better than most. But we think like dwarves. We fight like dwarves. You Vikings... you fight like madmen who don't care about rules."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Skardi said.

Bartia laughed, the sound echoing down the tunnel. "You should. It's the highest praise a dwarf can give."

Stefi stepped forward, gesturing to the mine carts lined up just inside the entrance. "These will take us down the first thousand feet. After that, we walk. The shafts are narrow, and the carts won't fit."

Einar studied the carts. Each one was reinforced with metal bands, and runes covered the wheels. "How fast do they go?"

"Fast enough that if you fall out, you won't survive the landing," Stefi replied. "Hold on tight and don't lean out. The walls get close in some sections."

The Vikings began loading into the carts, four or five per cart. Einar made sure the pack leaders were spread out, each one responsible for their section. If something went wrong during the descent, he needed leaders in every cart.

As Einar climbed into the lead cart with Thorodd, Avitue, and Yulgas, the dwarf pulled a lever. The cart lurched forward, wheels beginning to turn on the tracks that led down into the mountain.

The descent began.

For the first few minutes, the shaft was well-lit. Runes lined the walls every ten feet, providing steady illumination. The temperature was comfortable, almost warm. The sound of the wheels on the tracks created a rhythmic clatter that echoed endlessly.

Then they dropped.

Einar's stomach lurched as the cart picked up speed. The angle of the tracks increased sharply, sending them plummeting deeper. The rune lights began to space out, appearing every twenty feet, then thirty. Shadows grew between each light source, creating pockets of darkness that seemed to reach out as they passed.

The walls closed in. Sections where the shaft narrowed made Einar pull his arms tight against his body. Thorodd cursed as his shoulder almost scraped against stone.

"This is insane!" Avitue shouted over the sound of the wheels.

"This is efficient!" Yulgas shouted back, grinning like a madman.

Down they went. Einar tried to keep track of time but lost count after what felt like ten minutes. The temperature began to change. The warmth from above faded, replaced by a chill that seemed to seep from the stone itself. His breath began to fog in the air.

Then the cold vanished, replaced by heat. Not the comfortable warmth of a fire, but an oppressive heat that made sweat bead on his skin. The air felt thick, heavy, as if the mountain itself was breathing on them.

"We're passing near a lava flow," Yulgas explained. "It's several hundred feet away, but you can feel it through the stone."

The heat lasted for another few minutes before fading. In its place came a dampness that made everything feel wet. Water dripped from the ceiling, splashing against the cart. The sound of it mixed with the wheel clatter, creating a symphony of noise that pressed against Einar's ears.

Finally, after what had to be close to half an hour, the cart began to slow. The tracks leveled out, and the wheels' rhythm changed. Up ahead, Einar could see a platform carved from stone. Runes provided light, but it was dimmer here, as if the mountain was reluctant to let go of its darkness.

The cart stopped with a jolt that nearly threw Einar forward. Behind them, the other carts arrived one by one, each warrior climbing out with varying degrees of relief and nausea.

"Welcome to the deep shafts," Yulgas said, stepping onto the platform. "From here, we walk."

Einar looked around. The platform was roughly fifty feet across, carved from the living rock. Three tunnels led away from it, each one large enough for three dwarves to walk side by side. The ceiling here was about fifteen feet high, giving plenty of room even for someone of Skardi's size.

But it was the air that caught Einar's attention. It was different. Heavier. He could taste minerals on his tongue with each breath. The scent of earth and stone was overwhelming, mixed with something else he couldn't quite identify.

"That smell," Osvif said, wrinkling his nose. "What is that?"

"Goblins," Bartia said flatly. "They mark their territory with waste and rot. If you can smell them, they're close."

Stefi was already moving to the center tunnel, studying the ground. "Fresh tracks. Multiple sets. They were here within the last day."

Einar moved to join her. The stone floor showed scratches and marks. Clawed feet had scraped across the surface, leaving grooves in the rock. There were dozens of tracks, all heading deeper into the mountain.

"How many?" Einar asked.

"Impossible to say," Stefi replied. "Goblins don't walk in neat lines. They scramble and climb. Could be ten. Could be fifty."

Yulgas joined them, his expression grim. "The ore we need is down the center tunnel. About two miles in, there's a junction. The main vein runs through that area. We need to secure it and hold it long enough to mine at least three carts' worth."

"And the goblins won't just let us waltz in and start digging," Thorodd said.

"No," Yulgas agreed. "They won't."

Einar turned to face his warriors. Forty Vikings stood ready, their weapons in hand, their eyes reflecting the dim rune light. They looked dangerous. They looked prepared.

"Listen closely," Einar said, his voice carrying across the platform. "Goblins hunt in the dark. They strike from unexpected angles. They'll try to separate us, pick us off one by one. So we stay together. No one wanders off. No one plays hero. We move as a pack, we fight as a pack, and we survive as a pack."

He paused, meeting each leader's gaze. "Pack leaders, keep your sections tight. Healers are in the middle of each group. Skardi, your section takes point with me. Thorodd, you've got the rear. Avitue, Vidar, Jepi, you three keep the center secure."

Nods all around.

"Yulgas, Bartia, Stefi—you three know these tunnels. If you see something that looks wrong, say it. We trust your experience down here."

The three dwarves acknowledged his words.

Einar drew one of his axes, the familiar weight reassuring in his hand. "Remember, we came here for a reason. The dwarves need ore. We need their metal. Both require us to walk into the belly of this mountain and face whatever's waiting."

He turned toward the center tunnel. The darkness beyond the rune light seemed to pulse with a life of its own. Somewhere in that blackness, creatures waited. Creatures that struck from shadows and vanished before retaliation could come.

"Let's go show them why you don't mess with Vikings."

As they entered the tunnel, the temperature shifted again. The oppressive heat from before was gone, replaced by a cold that settled into bones. The rune light from the platform faded behind them, and the darkness ahead seemed absolute.

Stefi moved to the front, a glowing crystal in his hand. The light it cast was weak but enough to see twenty feet ahead. The tunnel was rougher here than the shaft they had descended. The walls showed pick marks, evidence of dwarven work, but also natural formations where the stone had been left untouched.

The sound of their footsteps echoed off the walls. Metal scraped against stone. Leather creaked. Breathing became the loudest thing in the silence.

After ten minutes of walking, Stefi raised his hand. Everyone stopped.

"There," the dwarf whispered, pointing to the wall on their left.

Einar squinted, trying to see what the dwarf had noticed. Then he saw it. Scratch marks. Fresh ones. They ran along the wall about seven feet up, too high for a dwarf or Viking to reach while walking.

"They were on the ceiling," Bartia said quietly. "They do that sometimes. Climb along the top and drop on their prey."

Einar looked up. The ceiling was rough stone, full of handholds and crevices. Perfect for something that could climb.

"Eyes up," he commanded. "Watch the ceiling as much as the walls."

They moved forward again, slower now. Every shadow seemed to hold a threat. Every sound made someone twitch.

The tunnel began to widen. After another few minutes, it opened into a chamber. This one was natural, a cavern that the dwarves had simply connected to with their mining. Stalactites hung from the ceiling like stone teeth. The floor was uneven, covered in loose rocks and debris.

And there, in the dim light cast by Stefi's crystal, Einar saw them.

Tracks. Dozens of them. All leading into a tunnel on the far side of the cavern.

But it was what lay in the center of the chamber that made everyone stop.

Bones.

A pile of bones, picked clean, stacked in a manner that spoke of intelligence. Not random. Not scattered. Arranged.

"A warning," Yulgas said, his voice tight. "They're telling us this is their territory."

Einar studied the bones. Most were too large to be dwarf or human. Some kind of animal, perhaps. But mixed among them were pieces that looked disturbingly familiar. A skull with a jawline too square to be anything but humanoid.

"How long since dwarves worked this area?" Einar asked.

"Two years," Yulgas replied. "We lost a crew down here. Six dwarves. They were never recovered."

The silence that followed was heavy.

"Then we're not just here for ore," Einar said quietly. "We're here to make sure no one else ends up like them."

He looked at the tunnel across the chamber. The darkness beyond seemed to writhe, as if alive. Somewhere in there, creatures waited. Creatures that had killed dwarven miners and made this place their home.

Creatures that were about to learn Vikings didn't scare easily.

"Forward," Einar commanded. "Stay alert. Stay ready. And remember—we don't leave until the job is done."

As they crossed the chamber, stepping carefully around the bone pile, Einar felt the weight of the mountain above them. Felt the darkness pressing in from all sides. Felt the eyes watching from unseen places.

The real fight was about to begin.

Loopbreaker - Book 2 - Chapter 1

Francis bit his lip, keeping from letting out a curse as the tall woman pulled back the curtain made of pelts that was the entrance and exit to the room he had appeared in. A freezing wind blew in, penetrating the metal armor and his thin layer of clothing, immediately causing his skin to break out in goosebumps.

I swear I’m going to punch Stenson the next time I see him.

A chuckle came from his escort as she studied him, her blue eyes seemingly happy with his inability to hold back the shudder he had just released.

“You look angry. I like that,” she said, grinning as she pulled a fur-covered hood from behind her head. “Why they sent you like that… I can only imagine either you upset them or it’s a lesson.”

“Perhaps both,” Francis replied, fighting against his jaw that wanted to bounce up and down. “Any chance I can get something to help with my… outfit?” He motioned to the metal covering which was absorbing the cold by the second.

“Let me take you to the warchief first,” she replied. “If you survive the trek, then you’ll be worthy of meeting him and earning a new outfit. Even our young must prove they are able to withstand the snow.”

She turned and began moving through a well-worn path of brown snow. Most of the snow Francis had seen as a child had been white, occasionally marked with a section of yellow he had learned to avoid. Here, every bit of the snow was tinged with muted brown.  Gone was the luster and clean color he had been expecting.

His nose was assaulted by the stench of pine sap and wood burning as smoke from large fires rose up to the sky. Before him were frames held together by fur, some with walls of ice and others that appeared to be half globes of ice with entrances like the one he had just exited.

How do they not freeze in all this?

The sound of metal being hammered carried above the hum of a section of land, filled with an army he had no idea the number of.  His eyes swept to both sides, where jagged peaks of ice flanked the army’s camp on both sides.  There were clusters of trees, every one of them black.  The few that were close had ice crystals frozen on their branches.

A strong wind swept against his face and the taste of copper and something else reminded him that there was death nearby.  Even though there wasn’t a cloud of birds hovering over corpses, Francis knew there had to be a place where the snow wasn’t brown, but instead red.

“Who’s the child?” Someone called out as they walked along the frozen path between buildings

“Are we that desperate that we are requesting help from others?” another cried out.

Francis studied the men and women around him, seeing that each was wrapped in furs from head to toe. Like his escort, they all were taller than he, and a few appeared to be easily twice his weight.

It’s like… how are they all this big? Could they all have reached the Advanced rank in their Endurance?

He knew he was closing in on that rank in three of his stats and hoped to have them sooner rather than later.

[ Status ]

Francis Lancaster

Age 17

Strength: 47

Endurance: 49

Agility: 48

Wisdom: 28

Perception: 37

Magic: 10

Skills

Swordsmanship (Common) - 71 Elite

Shield Use (Common) - 58 Advanced

Tracking (Uncommon) - 11 Novice

Stealth (Uncommon) - 11 Novice

Traps (Uncommon) - 3 Basic

Rock Throwing (Common) - 7 Basic

Mental Resist (Uncommon) - 45 Advanced

Blood of the Undying (Unknown)- 100+ Sage

Fast Learner (Epic) - 1 Basic (Locked)

Mace (Common)- 11 Novice

Horseback Riding (Common)- 11 Novice

Horseback Handling (Uncommon) - 6 Basic 

Pain Resistance (Uncommon) - 58 Advanced

Poison Resistance (Rare) - 45 Advanced

Power Strike (Rare) - 54 Advanced

Brawling (Uncommon) - 38 Proficient

Strong Bones (Rare) - 56 Advanced

Magic Resistance (Rare) 53 - Advanced

Magic Feedback (Legendary) - 21 Novice

Quick Attack (Uncommon) - 44 Advanced

Guarded Stance (Uncommon) - 31 Proficient

Riposte (Rare) - 36 Proficient

Thick Skin (Rare) - 27 Proficient

Night Vision (Epic) - 38 Proficient

Iron Wall (Rare) - 26 Proficient

Dual Wield (Rare) - 42 Advanced

Flurry (Rare) - 22 Novice

Battle Sense (Epic*) - 15 Novice

Warrior’s Resolve (Legendary) 5 Basic

Maybe I’ll figure out what makes them so much bigger without having to die a thousand times.

Unable to help it, Francis let out a laugh, his clenched jaw betraying him and clattering a few times in the cold.

“There it is!” his escort shouted. “I wondered when you’d give in. Still, I am impressed. Many of your kind don’t make it this far without succumbing to the cold.”

“My kind?” Francis asked, having to keep a quicker pace to match her stride. “What does that mean?”

She stopped immediately, the sound of snow crunching under her fur-wrapped boots and turned toward him. “You… think we’re the same?”

Francis could see the way her eyes narrowed, not from the cold wind but from the apparent lack of disbelief at his statement. She was clenching her jaw, waiting for his answer.

He then noticed that the sound of whatever had been going on had stopped, as the barbarians from the north who were nearby had all stopped. Scanning the space around him, over thirty men and women were watching.

“I was going to say yes, but that suddenly doesn’t seem like the right answer,” Francis said. 

She lifted a gloved finger and tapped his chest firmly, the metal armor cracking, ice having formed in the links already. “Who are you? What kind of fool did they send us if you don’t even know an answer to that question?”

Francis’ cheeks felt warm and he held back the frustration that he felt. 

Something I obviously didn’t learn at the Academy or in life.

Part of him wished he had done a few more loops there, but Stenson and he had changed direction after acquiring his Magic Resist ability and Magic Feedback.

“I’m the one who’s going to help your side win,” Francis replied, matching her gaze. “Now, unless you’re having fun keeping an emissary from the King and his General waiting, I’d suggest you take me where I’m supposed to be.”

She snorted and shook her head, about to reply when a deep voice called out, “Kerhi! Do you need me to babysit that one for you?”

His newly named escort, Kerhi, turned around, and Francis saw a mountain of muscle moving toward them. Unlike many, this one wore no fur over his muscular top half. Scars and tattoos covered most of his skin which seemed unaffected by the cold wind.  A pair of handles rose over his shoulders and Francis could make out axe blades jutting out past his sides.

“Dravik Frostbane, you owe me honor! He did not know my name!” Kerhi shouted. “He had not earned it and now you have gone and shared it.”

A frown appeared upon the man’s face, a pair of brown eyes no longer focused upon Francis but on the woman he was with. “Forgive me, Kerhi. I did not realize. I didn’t–”

“Think!” she snapped. “Fetch this one a cloak and some armor as payment! You shall cover the trade cost.”

A puff of white air came from the man’s nostrils as he huffed once but said nothing, simply nodding before immediately turning around.  

“Look for something in the children’s tent!” Kerhi called out as Dravik walked off, prompting those still watching to laugh.

Before Francis could say anything, she turned and leveled a finger at him. “Do not think to use my name lightly. You have not earned it and until you do, you may only call me Gifted One.”

“Gifted one?” Francis asked, using a freezing finger to wipe the cold from his eyes. “What does–”

“No time for that right now,” she said. Kerhi began walking down the path they were on, not waiting for him to follow.

Francis moved beside her, keeping quiet and studying the camp. He was certain he was in a better section of it because the structures they passed looked well-built enough to keep out the cold. Many of them had small trails of smoke exiting from the roof or side, adding to the scent of burning pine that he always smelt.  A few of the buildings had what had to be guards outside.  

Kerhi led him down one path, a section of blacksmiths working in the open, whose buildings had walls that blocked the wind on three sides. Men and women pounded hammers against metal, and each was rippling with muscle. He could feel a little bit of heat as they moved past one.  A loud hiss came as one blacksmith plunged a thick axe blade into a bucket, the steam blinding the area for a moment.

“Oy! Does that one need a dagger?” a woman called out from inside. “I might have something my baby has outgrown!”

Kerhi and those nearby laughed, each of them seemingly unconcerned by how Francis felt at the constant heckling that was aimed at him.

Further ahead, a pair of buildings were set with a few barbarians sitting outside, their limbs and torsos wrapped with bandages. None of them wore much more than what would be considered underwear, only a fur-lined cloak to help keep the cold at bay.

“What you looking at?” one man asked, half his face and an eye covered with bandages. 

“Don’t reply,” Kerhi said, her voice the quietest it had ever been. “We don’t have time for this.”

“I’m talking to you!” the man called out, earning laughter from the others as Francis kept pace with his escort.  

“Who was that and why did you tell me not to reply?” Francis asked when they were far enough away not to be heard.

She grunted and shook her head, barely giving him a sideways glance. “A berserker, and a rabid one at that. He’s itching for a fight and has been whining like a baby off its mother’s teat for days. You did notice the mark on his shoulder, didn’t you?”

When he didn’t reply, having missed whatever Kerhi was talking about, she sighed. “You need to learn what the tattoos mean. They will tell you who is safe to talk with and who will rip your head off because you spat too close to them.”

“I understand,” Francis replied. “And thank you.”

Kerhi snorted, shaking her head. “You are too kind. I do not have time to feed you like an infant. What kind of child are you that they send here with letters? Has the kingdom of Reevotort become that soft?”

Francis walked faster, getting ahead of her, and stopped, holding out his hand, palm up. “I don’t know your ways, nor do I know much about your people,” he growled, already sensing that weakness was measured by how one presented and held themselves. “If you dishonor me again, I will challenge you to a fight and ensure that everyone here knows I have done so. Then, when I am done kicking your ass, you’ll know better than to mock me again.”

Her blue eyes twinkled, almost like a star in the sky on a clear night, and Francis felt the threads of magic starting to form inside her. 

Shit…

“It’s a challenge!” a loud man’s voice called out from the left. “Someone has challenged Kerhi!”

Before Francis could even hope to change the direction of the path he had just gone down, roars and shouts of men and women cheering began to come from every direction as someone echoed the original man’s shout.

“You, little child, have stumbled into the badger’s den,” Kerhi said, grinning. “And those who find themselves in one of those, never leave with all of their appendages still intact.”

She lay back her head and let out a howl that sounded primal. Threads of magic went with it, causing the sound to make the air reverberate with power.

Dammit Stenson! I’m not even going to get a day before I die because of you…

UL1 - Book 11 - Chapter 077 -

Sabon moved forward, his shield held ready as the copy of Miranna–Shiny– came at them, its two red swords growing as it activated Ultimate Form, doubling its size to forty feet.

Elemental spells came from Shiny as it unleashed a barrage of ice storms upon the team. 

Miranna didn’t hesitate, activating her own abilities and watching as Shale Spark endured the downpour of magic that struck her red scales. 

Dad’s going to love to hear how he was right about this.

Allowing herself to smile, Miranna sent her own spells at Shiny, knowing that the next part was going to suck. Fowl had been a painful lesson of the gift she and her clone both possessed.

[ Ultimate Form ]

A wave of ice radiated from Shiny as it activated Ice Nova, and Miranna copied it, both spells having no impact on each other, but it did slow down Sabon just slightly.

Two red swords came at the warrior, who held up his shield, his body flashing a bright green before they struck.

Each was deflected, and Miranna summoned an air wall, leaping onto it and off it, her blades coming for the neck that had an awful-looking brown spike next to it.

Mom was right… that thing is hideous.

Her clone was fast, just like her, but the lack of stats from the equipment it hadn’t copied didn’t make up for the hundred levels it had upon her.  500 stat points seemed like a lot until you considered all the bonuses she was given by every piece of equipment she wore.  Her two swords covered that advantage.

Shiny flashed with a green color. It moved in a way that told everyone it had activated Evasion. Her blades missed their target, slipping under her attack, bringing a weapon toward her.

Without hesitating, Miranna summoned another Air Wall and jumped off it, storing one of her swords and flinging herself at the boss. Her sword, Loyalty, shifted to a short spear and when Shiny tried to adjust, dodging her attack, its head snapped to attention at Sabon for the briefest moment.

Got to love taunt.

No one said a word. There was no need for that unless something unforeseen had occurred.  Tens of thousands of fights had trained them how to work together. What seemed like such a waste of time to some had been the real reason they had taken so long to defeat the tower.

Miranna and Shale Spark were willing to grind out more than needed because they wouldn’t lose anyone else again. Kurrar, Agluur, and Sabon were their family and would be for eternity. Each of them knew the risks, but Miranna knew the actual costs.  Every time someone stepped into the tower, death was a possibility.  

The creature that had killed the members of her first party never showed up again and she had vowed to end its life if they ever crossed paths.  

Focusing on this fight, Miranna grabbed onto the massive brown spike, smiling to herself as her dad’s plan worked like he had written down.

With her left hand grabbing the massive leather spike, she drove the tip into Shiny’s neck.

She felt the pain of the attack, her own Thorn Aura reflecting damage.  In a single strike, she lost almost a sixth of her health. As soon as the pain had come, Kurrur’s heal went off, bringing her back up to full health.

Miranna unleashed a fire nova and stabbed again. As her attack struck, she leapt off the back of her image, sensing the hand that was coming for her.

A loud shout of anger came from the being that had guided them through the tower and now faced them.

Lightning raced through Miranna’s body as the clone sent out a shock wave.

Ignoring the pain that lit up her nerves, she summoned an air wall, adjusting her own path and attempted to attack from behind.

Shiny vanished and reappeared before Shale Spark, charging their healer, mage, and dragon.

Prepared for this, Shale Spark unleashed a torrent of flames from her mouth, the attack washing over the clone.  Staggering through the hot flames, two red swords came at the dragon who charged forward, slamming her own body, which was two-thirds the size of Shiny.

Sabon and Miranna both came up from behind, attacking the copy’s ankles, and watched as an ice spear that Agluur had been forming, hiding it behind Shale Spark, slammed into the being’s shoulder.

Black blood fell to the ground, blending in with the stone as the team continued its assault.  Shale Spark bit into Shiny’s neck, her own health suffering from the attack that wasn’t meant to create a fatal injury.

A green rain fell upon the team as Kurrur cast his area-wide healing spell.

Miranna used her natural speed and strength, combined with stone and air walls, to get airborne, slashing at the ligaments and tendons on the clone's shoulders.  Each strike cut deeper, slowly bleeding and disabling their opponent.

“You’ll not win!” Shiny shouted, dropping both swords and grabbing Shale Spark’s neck with its hands.

No cry came from their dragon as it endured the tug of war. Instead, she sent out a wave of fire upon the area of the clone’s neck, burning it.

A guttural cry came from Shiny as it yanked itself free from Shale Spark’s bite, tearing out a chunk of its own throat.

Miranna saw a third of her dragon’s health vanish when that happened, a few seconds passing before Kurrur managed to heal some of it.

Shiny tried to step backward, tripping as its achilles gave way from the weight and damage that Sabon had been doing during that moment.

Falling backward, it pulled Shale Spark with it, the pair landing with a loud thud against the stone. Claws dug into the clone's arms, roots and ice appearing around its limbs as both Miranna and Agluur cast spells to help immobilize it.

“NO!” Shiny shouted. “I… was… promised!”

Miranna wanted to say something, to ask what had been promised, as she felt the wave of flames wash over her. A moment later, another wave came, and she cursed, watching everyone but Shale Spark’s health drop by almost a third or more.

More spells were unleashed upon them, Shiny using whatever it had available, sending ice, fire and electricity at them.

Pausing her attack and advance, Miranna summoned a wall above Sabon and another above herself. Her weapons were stored, and a shield appeared that she used to deflect any parts of the spells that she could.

Her other hand summoned a healing potion, watching their warrior do the same.

Seconds turned into almost half a minute before the magical assault ended.  Three potions had been drained and each one had barely kept her above half health during the storm.

“I… was… promised…” Shiny said, struggling to speak as Shale Spark kept her claws dug in, her weight keeping the injured being from being able to break loose of the magical bindings they had been casting.

“Finish it!” Shale Spark called out.

Miranna moved from her defensive position and came at the being that had seemed so sure of itself just a moment ago.

Two small leaps had her airborne, coming downward at the forehead of her clone. Miranna stared hard into the golden eye that gazed up at her.

“But–”

“You’re just another obstacle to overcome to defeat the tower,” Miranna said, cutting it off.  “Don’t take it personally.”

As she spoke those last words, Miranna activated all of her defensive abilities.  Truth was in her hands, a large two-handed spear plunging downward into the iris that was widening as it came.

Her attack struck true and Shiny jerked once, causing Miranna to fall off as her own body failed to hold onto the weapon she had just lodged into the clone’s eye socket.

Miranna felt her lifeforce almost vanish, the attack having done far more damage than she had expected.

Healing washed over her, and she knew from the amount that Kurrur had used his special one.

I guess it doesn’t matter… we’re not supposed to be fighting anytime soon.

Finding herself lying on her back, Miranna looked up at the sky above, not realizing how blue it really was.

“You okay?” Sabon called out as he rushed over. “You were at like 5% remaining!”

Grunting, Miranna nodded, slowly rising to her feet. “Yeah… that one hurt way more than I had expected. I’m glad we tested how this feels against Fowl.”

Their warrior chuckled, holding out a hand.

“What’s that for?” Miranna asked.

“Doing what you promised,” Sabon replied, grinning like a fool. “You said we’d defeat the tower and you just kept your word.”

“Please, you never doubted her,” Shale Spark stated as she crawled over the top of the corpse of Shiny, her large dragon snout looking down at them. “And besides, I’m pretty sure we all had a part in this victory.”

“What did I miss?” Agluur asked, arriving a moment later with their healer. 

“Just Sabon being his usual self,” Miranna said. “Now then, I think we’re supposed to let our dragon here enjoy herself before we move on to the next part of all this.

A thrum came from Shale Spark as she nodded her head a few times, drool starting to drip from her mouth. 

“Oh gods… I’m going to have not to watch this,” Kurrur said. “It’s bad enough that she chews with her mouth open, but being this close.”

“Hey!” their dragon exclaimed, bringing her snout closer to their healer. “I don’t chew with my–”

“You do,” Miranna said, cutting her off. “But we still love you even though you do.”

A grunt came from Shale Spark, who snorted and blew a black puff of smoke out of her nostrils.

“Yeah, I’m moving a bit closer to the portal,” Kurrur stated, pointing at the white portal. 

***

“You okay?” Agluur asked, nudging Miranna with her elbow. “You seem… displeased.”

“It wasn’t that much of a fight,” she replied, shrugging. “Honestly… I’m a bit disappointed.”

“We just defeated the tower and Miranna’s upset it wasn’t harder,” Kurrar said. “Someone please tell her that it wasn’t as easy as she thinks it was.”

Sabon nodded, massaging his left arm at the elbow. “Yeah… I mean, I just had half my arm regrown. It wasn’t that easy.”

A satisfied burp came from Shale Spark as she finished eating half the remains of Shiny. “Okay, I’m good to go.”

The five of them looked at the white portal, each of them aware of what lay beyond.

“Are we ready for this?” Miranna asked. “I mean… we’ve got the notes Jazzjak and my parents left us. Three hundred years… It’s going to be a hard and fast race.”

“Beats dying of old age or in a dungeon,” Sabon said. “Some of you forget I’m getting old… twenty more years and I’d have to think about hanging up my shield.”

Their healer chuckled and started moving towards the portal. “For once, I’m going first. Screw the whole ‘warriors first’ thing.”

Miranna hesitated as their mage and warrior moved to follow the dwarf.

You okay?

Smiling, Miranna nodded.

I spent a lifetime preparing for this. Part of me is scared to see what lies beyond… 

Well, don’t be. Whatever happens, you and I are going to see this through no matter what. We’re connected by more than just our bond.

She turned and saw that Shale Spark had transformed into her humanoid form. A gold robe that offered nothing but covering rested upon the tall dragon’s shoulders.

“Thank you,” Miranna said. “For being my friend… my family.”

Laughing, Shale Spark put a hand on her back and pushed Miranna forward. 

“Thank me later, for now let’s go see what lies beyond that portal.”

BTtNR - Book 3 - Chapter 036

The royal keep loomed before them like a monument forged by the gods themselves.

Einar had seen many impressive structures in his two lives, but nothing compared to the colossal anvil-shaped spire that rose from the heart of the mountain. Its surface was polished obsidian and steel, catching the light from thousands of runes that pulsed with a rhythm like a heartbeat. The structure seemed to grow from the stone itself, as if the mountain had given birth to it in ages past.

"By Odin's eye," Osvif breathed beside him.

Thorodd said nothing, but Einar noticed his hand tightened its grip on the haft of his weapon.

Yulgas stood before them, his blonde hair braided and his chain armor polished to a shine that reflected the rune light. The mining leader's normally jovial expression was solemn. "Einar Sibbison, you have been summoned by the Stone Father himself. This is an honor few outsiders ever receive." The dwarf's blue eyes met his. "You will go alone. Your pack will wait here."

Einar nodded, understanding the weight of what was being offered. He turned to his companions, seeing both concern and pride in Avitue's eyes.

"Wait here. I'll return soon," he told them.

"You better," Avitue said quietly. "We didn't come all this way to lose you in a throne room."

A faint smile touched his lips before he turned back to Yulgas. The dwarf gestured forward, and four elite guards materialized from alcoves Einar hadn't noticed. Each stood over nine feet tall, clad in armor so black it seemed to drink in the light. Their faces were hidden behind helms carved to resemble ancient beasts, and not one of them made a sound as they moved.

The massive doors before them were easily forty feet tall and carved with scenes of dwarven history. Battles against creatures Einar couldn't name. The forging of legendary weapons. They had found a way to show mountains being hollowed out and cities being born from solid stone. As they approached, the doors began to open without anyone touching them, revealing a hall that stretched beyond what should have been possible given the mountain's size.

Magic. Old magic. I can feel it… It's as if it's so powerful and woven into every stone that this place breathes it.

Einar's boots echoed on the polished floor as he walked. The hall was wide enough for fifty dwarves to march abreast, and the ceiling was so high above that shadows obscured it despite the thousands of light runes that lined the walls. Pillars of stone, each one carved from a single piece of rock and covered in intricate runes, stood like sentinels on either side.

Between the pillars, he caught glimpses of alcoves. Some held statues of dwarves in poses of battle or crafting. Others contained weapons that hummed with power even from a distance. A few held nothing but darkness, and Einar felt a warning that those were best left unexplored.

The guards stopped at a point where the hall opened into a throne room that defied description.

Yulgas placed a hand on Einar's shoulder. "From here, you go alone. Speak truth, show respect, and remember—you stand before one who was ancient when your ancestors first learned to forge bronze."

The dwarf withdrew, and the guards seemed to meld into the shadows of the pillars, far enough away that their presence was felt but whatever might be said couldn't be heard.

Einar took a breath and stepped forward.

The throne room was circular, easily two hundred feet across. The floor was a massive mosaic depicting the Nine Realms, each one rendered in stones and metals that seemed to shift and move in the light. Above, the ceiling was carved to show the stars themselves, and Einar could have sworn they twinkled.

But it was the throne that commanded attention.

Carved from a single piece of mountain, the throne rose thirty feet high. It was covered in runes so old and so densely packed that they formed patterns within patterns, spirals of power that made his eyes water if he stared too long. At its base, massive stone ravens stood guard, their eyes glowing with an inner fire.

And seated upon it was Vetrdur Kvellhammar.

The High King of the Dwarves was over ten feet tall, his frame broad and powerful even in repose. His armor was ancient, each plate etched with runes that Einar recognized as Old Dwarvish, a language few living beings could still read. The metal gleamed like starlight, neither silver nor steel but something between. His hair and beard were salt and pepper, braided with bands of gold and gems that caught the light with every breath.

Against the throne's right arm leaned a hammer that had to weigh as much as Skardi. Its head was the size of a barrel, covered in runes that pulsed with barely contained power. On the left rested a shield as tall as Einar himself, its surface polished to a mirror shine.

But it was the king's eyes that held him. They were the color of molten gold, and they held the weight of ages. Of civilizations risen and fallen. Of mountains carved and cities built. Of wars fought and peace hard-won.

Those eyes studied Einar with an intensity that made his skin prickle.

"Einar Sibbison." The king's voice was like stone grinding against stone, deep and resonant. It filled the chamber without echoing, as if the very air carried his words with reverence. "Son of Sibba, born Magnus in another life. Chosen of Odin. Wielder of a rune I have never seen, named Gungnir's blessing. You stand in the Hall of Stone, before the throne that has not been empty since the First Age."

Einar dropped to one knee, bowing his head. Part of him wondered how the dwarven king could know these things, yet now wasn't the time to ask those questions. "High King Vetrdur Kvellhammar, Stone Father. I am honored beyond measure."

"Rise, Viking. Let me see the one who has caused such a stir in my realm."

Einar stood, meeting those ancient eyes without flinching. He knew that respect was one thing, while cowering was another.

A smile touched the king's lips, barely visible through the magnificent beard. "You do not look away. Good. I have no use for those who cannot meet my gaze." The king shifted slightly, and Einar caught the faintest hint of something in that movement. Not pain, but... constraint. As if the throne held him as much as he sat upon it.

"Reports have reached me of your exploits since arriving in my realm. The goblins you've slain. The tactics you've shared with Vrádni and his rangers. The respect you showed to Gromm and his council. Your battle with Akrini in the training pit." The king's eyes gleamed. "You fight with your mind as much as your weapons. That is... unexpected from a Viking."

"The Vikings of old fought with cunning as well as courage, Stone Father," Einar said, using a name he had been told showed reverence. "I seek to remind the Nine Realms of that."

"And remind them you have." Vetrdur leaned forward slightly, his gaze intensifying. "Tell me, Einar Sibbison. In that fight, you used lightning. I felt it, even here, deep in my mountain. The power of Thor flows through you."

It wasn't a question, but Einar nodded anyway. "The gods have blessed me, yes."

"The gods do not bestow such blessings lightly." The king's voice dropped, becoming somehow heavier. "They prepare their champions for great trials. They arm their chosen for wars that will shake the foundations of reality itself." He paused, letting his words sink in. "Ragnarok approaches, doesn't it?"

Einar met the king's gaze. "Yes, Stone Father. Odin himself tasked me with preventing it, or if that fails, preparing the realms to survive it."

Silence filled the throne room. Even the light from the runes seemed to dim slightly.

Vetrdur sat back, his eyes never leaving Einar's face. "For over ten thousand years I have sat upon this throne. I have watched the cycles of war and peace, growth and decay. I have seen empires rise from nothing and crumble to dust. I have witnessed the birth of gods and the death of worlds." His hand gripped the throne's arm, knuckles whitening. "And in all that time, I have never heard of one successfully stopping Ragnarok. Only delaying it."

"Then I will be the first to try, or die attempting such a feat," Einar replied.

A low rumble came from the king's chest. Laughter, Einar realized. Ancient and tired, but genuine.

"Spoken like a true warrior. Thor chose well when he marked you." Vetrdur's expression sobered. "You wish for my aid. For my people to march beside your Vikings against the darkness that comes."

"I do, Stone Father. Though I know such aid does not come freely."

"You understand the way of things. Good." The king gestured, and the runes on his armor pulsed once. "I am bound by ancient laws, Einar Sibbison. Treaties and oaths sworn in ages past that cannot be broken, even by me. I cannot simply send my armies to fight alongside yours, no matter how much I might wish to."

Einar kept his expression neutral, knowing that whatever Vetrdur would determine how successful this journey was. "Then what can you offer?"

"I can assist in small ways. Supplies. Training. Knowledge." The king paused. "But even these small aids require... compensation. Balance must be maintained. Help given must be help earned."

"Name the price, Stone Father. My warriors and I will pay it."

Vetrdur studied him for a long moment. "You have met Stenri Ironpurse, my quartermaster. And Yulgas, who leads my mining operations."

"I have, Stone Father."

"Both have tasks they cannot complete unless they have aid. Tasks that require... different skills. Skills that Vikings possess." The king's eyes gleamed. "Stenri needs aid in dealing with a caravan route that has been plagued by bandits. Not goblins, but something else. Something that has proven resistant to traditional dwarven tactics. Yulgas needs assistance in a mine that has been overrun. Again, not by goblins, but by creatures that strike from the darkness and vanish before my warriors can retaliate."

Einar listened, his mind already working through possibilities. "You want us to clear these threats."

"I need you to clear them. Complete these two tasks, and you will have proven that Vikings and dwarves can work together successfully. You will have shown that your people bring value beyond just strong arms and sharp axes." Vetrdur leaned forward again. "But more importantly, you will have proven yourself worthy of the third task."

"The third task?"

"The true test." The king's voice dropped to barely above a whisper, yet it filled the chamber. "Complete the first two, and I will summon you back to this hall. Then, and only then, will I tell you of the third task. The one that, if successful, will grant you everything you seek. Aid. Alliance. The full might of the dwarven realm standing beside the Vikings when Ragnarok comes."

Einar met the ancient king's gaze. "And if we fail?"

"Then you will die trying, as all great warriors do." Vetrdur's expression softened slightly. "But I do not think you will fail, Einar Sibbison. The gods have placed their faith in you. Thor's lightning runs through your veins. And..." The king gestured to Einar's hip. "That blade you carry. Sága's Gift. The elven queen does not bestow such weapons lightly. Even she recognizes the danger of what approaches."

Einar's hand moved unconsciously to the sword's hilt. "She does, Stone Father."

"Then we are in agreement." Vetrdur settled back on his throne. "Complete the tasks for Stenri and Yulgas. Prove yourself and your pack. Then we will speak again of alliances and the future."

Bowing his head in acknowledgment, Einar reached into the pack at his side. His fingers closed around the object he had been saving for this exact moment.

"Stone Father, if I may. I brought something. A gift, freely given with no expectation of return."

Interest flickered in those golden eyes. "A gift? From a Viking? This I must see."

Einar withdrew the cask carefully. It was small, barely larger than his fist, but the wood was ancient and dark, bound with silver bands. Runes covered its surface—not dwarven or Norse, but something older. Something from a time when the first humans learned to ferment and create the waters of life.

He approached the throne slowly, each step measured. The stone ravens at the throne's base seemed to track his movement, their glowing eyes following him as he climbed the steps carved into the throne itself. When he reached the level where the king sat, Einar knelt once more, holding the cask up with both hands.

"I have been told this is from a time before my ancestors learned to write. Before the first Vikings sailed the seas. It has been passed down through families, kept hidden and protected, aging for longer than most kingdoms have existed. The one who acquired it for me knows your people well, and I would hope that he has told the truth." Einar's voice was quiet but clear. "Mead, Stone Father. Made from flowers that bloom once a century, mixed with honey from bees that no longer exist, and touched by magic that has been lost to time. There are perhaps five such casks left in all the Nine Realms. I give you one freely, as a sign of respect and hope for the future."

For a long moment, Vetrdur simply stared at the cask. Then, slowly, his massive hands reached out and accepted it with a gentleness that seemed impossible for someone his size. The king's fingers traced the ancient runes on its surface, and something flickered in those molten gold eyes—recognition, perhaps, or memory of a time long past.

"This is a gift worthy of gods, Einar Sibbison." The king's voice was softer now, thick with an emotion Einar couldn't quite name. "A treasure beyond measure. You honor me, and through me, all my people."

The king cradled the cask in one hand and extended the other toward Einar. Not to pull him up, but in a gesture of equal standing. Einar reached out and clasped the offered hand, feeling the incredible strength restrained within that grip. They remained like that for several heartbeats—warrior to warrior, leader to leader—eyes locked in mutual respect.

"I will complete your tasks, Stone Father," Einar said, his voice carrying the weight of an oath. "This I swear on my honor, on the name I carried in my first life, and on the name I carry now."

"I believe you will." Vetrdur's grip tightened once more before releasing. "When you have done so, return to this hall. We will open this cask together and drink to an alliance I hope will endure for ages to come. One that will see Vikings and dwarves standing shoulder to shoulder against the darkness."

Einar descended the steps backward, unwilling to turn his back on the ancient king until he had reached the floor of the throne room once more.

"Go now," Vetrdur said, settling the cask carefully beside his throne. "Speak with Stenri and Yulgas. Learn the details of what they need. Prepare your pack." The king's hammer and shield seemed to lean closer, as if acknowledging the moment. "And Einar? Do not die. The Nine Realms need warriors like you in the days ahead."

"I'll do my best to oblige, Stone Father."

A rumble of laughter followed him as he turned and walked back down the hall. The guards emerged from the shadows, falling into step around him. Yulgas waited at the massive doors, his expression curious.

As the throne room doors began to close behind them, Einar glanced back one final time.

The High King of the Dwarves sat upon his throne, the ancient cask resting beside him. Those golden eyes met Einar's across the distance, and in them, he saw something that gave him hope.

The doors closed with a sound like thunder, and Einar let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Well?" Yulgas asked, his voice carefully neutral. "How did it go?"

Einar looked at the dwarf and smiled. "I think we just made history."

"Good," Yulgas replied, a grin spreading across his bearded face. "Because we're going to need every bit of luck the gods can give us for what comes next."

As they walked back toward where his pack waited, Einar's mind was already working through the challenges ahead. Two tasks to prove themselves. A third that would determine everything.

And somewhere, in a throne room deep in the mountain, an ancient king held a cask of mead and the chance for an alliance that might just save them all.

The real fight was about to begin.

UL1 - Book 11 - Chapter 076 -

“You going to be okay?” Miranna asked as she scratched Shale Spark’s scales.

“Please, I’m just the greatest mount in the world at this point,” the dragon replied, getting laughter from the rest of the party on her back. “I mean, what’s not to like? Every kid and most of the adults out there are wishing they were you right now.”

“She’s right,” Kurrar stated. “I distinctly heard a few kids ask if they could ride the red elephant with the long tail.”

A low grumble radiated from beneath their butts for just a few seconds and then immediately stopped as a few of the kids on the street who had been cheering cried out.

Miranna and the rest laughed as Shale Spark sent a puff of smoke out of her nostrils before letting the comment go for now.

“She’s going to get you back,” Miranna said. “You do realize that.”

“Aye, but by the time she does, we’ll all be gods,” Kurrar replied. “Still, that’s a problem for after we defeat the boss.”

“You don’t think she’ll mess with you before then?” Sabon asked. 

“Not even Sparky is crazy enough to mess with the healer during a fight,” their dwarf proclaimed.

“Focus,” Agluur said. “Just wave and smile, boys, wave and smile.”

Miranna did as their mage had told the others, smiling and waving at each person who lined the street. They had already been moving for over an hour, having started outside the city walls so that those who wanted to come and see them off again from the other kingdoms could.

It’s been a hard time feeling like some kind of show cow at each of the capitals.

Are you calling me a cow?

Smiling, Miranna laughed through her teeth.

No… but you are the biggest one out here.

A thrum emanated from the dragon as she continued walking them toward the center of the city and the tower.

That is true… still I cannot believe we are about to finally be done with this. Sixty years?

Sixty years… to think I knew you back when you could barely walk. And look at you now, able to walk with a full party on your back.

Another snort of smoke escaped Shale Sparks' nostrils and the crowd around them cheered.

“I think they believe she’s putting on a show,” Kurrar stated. “Next thing you know, Agluur is going to send magic into the air.”

The five of them laughed, waving at those gathered. Soon this moment would be over and the hardest task to take place in their adventurer career would arrive.

***

Miranna stood there, with wet cheeks, yet smiling as her parents approached.

“The time has come for you to make your mark in the heavens,” Tanila said softly, her eyes unleashing a torrent of tears. “Know that we look forward to the day we see you again.”

She stepped forward, hugging her mother, enjoying the embrace as they said goodbye for at least the next three hundred years or more.

“I love you,” Miranna whispered. “Thank you for everything.”

Her mother squeezed her for a few more seconds before releasing Miranna from the embrace. She took both hands and held her daughter’s head between them and kissed the half-elf god child.

“Know you are blessed and that your father and I are proud of who you have become. Never forget that.”

Wiping a tear, Miranna nodded. “I won’t.”

Tanila stepped back and she watched as her father approached.

His face was like her mother's, wet, and even though he smiled, Miranna could see that he was struggling to say something.

“It’s okay, Dad. I’ll be back before you know it,” Miranna said.

“I know Star. I… Outside of your mother… and Rakonath, only because he’s listening,” Max said, winking. “You hold a place in my heart no one else will ever take.”

Sniffing, Miranna nodded and rushed toward him, throwing herself into his open arms. For a moment, the wall came down, all the barriers she had erected to try and keep this moment from being filled with tears, yet she couldn’t hold back any longer.

His hand gently patted her head as Max held her close, his own body trembling with hers.

“I love you, Dad,” Miranna managed between breaths. “Thank you… for loving me.”

“Loving you is easy,” Max replied. “It’s the letting you fail that’s hard.”

Both of them laughed and each sniffed, wiping their own cheeks as they stepped back from each other.

“Failing? Please, we both know I’m not like you,” Miranna replied. 

She saw her father’s lips move a few times as he smiled and tried to speak, yet didn’t.

“Bob says that you need to be careful,” Max stated. “Don’t let the System rule you. Fight it.”

“I will, and tell Bob thank you for me,” Miranna said. “For everything.”

A cough came from behind, and she turned, seeing the rest of her party waiting near the tower portal, slightly off to the side of where she stood.

“It’s time,” Shale Spark said. “We promised.”

“And yet I see your own eyes have tears in them,” Miranna replied. 

“They do, but we must now prepare ourselves for what comes next,” the red dragon said. “We do not have time to let ourselves get distracted. We defeat this floor like all the others, and then we can laugh, cry, dance, or do whatever we desire. For now… as I was reminded by Rakonath, the time to prove ourselves has come.”

Miranna studied the expressions on the other three members of her party. Each of them wore their battle armor, no longer the festive outfits that had been prepared for them. Sabon’s gold and red dragon-scaled armor was no longer complete. His boots, gloves and helm were each tower-earned items, replacing the ones her father had made him.

Agluur’s only item she still used from her father was the crystal staff she carried, five different elemental cores twirling around the top of it, giving off a small glow in dark places. Her burnt orange robe had been one of much teasing but the stats it provided were beyond anything they could have created here.

Kurrar was the only one in their group who didn’t possess a single thing from Father. A blue and white striped robe covered his dwarven body, and in his right hand was a small symbol that glowed with a soothing aura. In his left hand was a shield, three-fourths as tall as the dwarf and yet he carried it as if it was a part of him.

“They’re right,” Max said from behind her. “It’s time. Go show the other gods who you are.”

Miranna took one deep breath and slowly let it out.  With a single thought, her soft leather and cloth outfit was gone, replaced instead with a simple brown leather outfit. The pinnacle of it was a brown chestpiece with a single massive spike on her left shoulder.  

“Oh my god, it’s the spike!” Fowl called out, causing the other gods to laugh.

“What’s so special about the spike?” Sog asked.

“A horrible fashion statement her father started,” Tanila replied with a smile. “It appears they are testing the limits of what might work.”

On her back, criss-crossed as always were the pair of blades Max had given her long ago, the red blades and black handles standing out against the simple armor.

It’s a shame I’m not using the swords Dad gave me two nights ago.  Naming them had been awfully fun.

Smiling at her party and to herself, Miranna thought back to what both of those weapons provided.

*****

* Legendary Weapon - Honor

+ 200 Strength, Constitution, Dexterity

+ 10% Damage Mitigation

+ 10% Mana Regen

Shape Shifting - The weapon may conform to any melee weapon as the wielder desires. No cooldown between the transforming of shapes. Density and weight will remain the same, and that is the only limit to what it can transform into.

Ultimate Legendary Weapon - This weapon has been named.

* May Evolve

*****

*****

* Legendary Weapon - Loyalty

+ 250 Strength, Constitution, Dexterity

Shape Shifting - The weapon may conform to any melee weapon as the wielder desires. No cooldown between the transforming of shapes. Density and weight will remain the same, and that is the only limit to what it can transform into.

Ultimate Legendary Weapon - This weapon has been named.

* May Evolve

*****

A pair of weapons, gold blades to match her eyes and hair, had been crafted from the materials she had acquired in the tower.  Miranna had worked with her dad, watching and helping as he demonstrated the skills he possessed. Their handles were made from dragon teeth, another gift from Rakonath.  Each was etched with runes that she didn’t understand, but knew contained power.

Silence suddenly filled the area around the tower, and when Miranna gave a slight nod, the sound of a hundred dragons roaring above in the sky rang out.

“Go!” Max shouted above the din. “Claim what is yours to take!”

All the emotion she had felt was stopped, as Miranna erected the barriers once again and moved to stand by her party. Their faces were like hers, focused and full of intent.

Smiling, she winked at Agluur.

“It's time to see if you win that bet,” she said, moving toward the portal. 

***

Her vision returned, and Miranna felt a firmness under her feet that had told her they were on stone.

Everywhere that she could see was a flat black rock. Half a mile away stood a giant metallic being, which she and the others had nicknamed "Shiny," much to its displeasure.

“Seems like the book was right,” Kurrar said, standing beside her. “One thing, an endless –”

“Welcome! You have made it, and your final test awaits!” Shiny called out.

She felt the power of what he had just said wash over her like a warm breeze on a hot summer day.  As it did, she could feel that it carried something else.

[ Final Tower Trial Initiating ]

[ Scan in Progress ]

“I won’t waste time,” the being called out. “I can sense that you know what is to come, so prepare yourselves.”

[ Scan Complete ]

[ Body Type - Matched ]

[ Modifying ]

[ Equipment - Matched ]

[ Skills - Matched ]

[ Selection Complete ]

[ Champion Chosen ]

Their guide for the tower from the 60th floor began to shift and to change. None of them knew what it would be, and part of that had scared Miranna.

Its body began to shrink until a twenty-foot-tall copy of Miranna stood before them, holding two red swords.

“Looks like I win that bet,” Sabon stated, moving to stand before the rest of them. “Plan C.”

A grunt from Agluur announced that she wasn’t happy about losing the bet that had been made.

“You have one minute before this last challenge begins!” Shiny called out.

Shale Spark moved to stand between their healer and mage, wings spread out over them.

“Here you go,” Agluur said, handing over a trio of potions and a backpack to Miranna. 

Chuckling, she took the three potions and quickly drank each one, smiling as a slight frown appeared upon Shiny’s face.

“You… prepared for this. Still, potions will not–”

It stopped talking as Agluur handed over the pair of golden swords to Miranna and the god child spun them around, smiling.

“We did prepare for this,” she replied, the backpack vanishing into storage. A moment later, the brown leather armor with the spike vanished, replaced with her real equipment. The armor she now wore had been earned through blood, sweat, and tears. Only her father’s breastplate, a silver scale, gifted to her from Rakonath, didn’t come from the tower. It would serve as a reminder of the family that had given so much to ensure that they made it this far.

A scowl replaced Shiny’s frown, and it turned the golden eyes it had copied upward at the sky. “They have cheated! The rules–”

The reflection of Miranna and the final boss they were going to face jerked; its very words cut off as something the System must have done stopped it.

It began to pant, the frustration of what had taken place and the lack of help setting in.

“I will kill at least one of you!” Shiny shouted. “You will not–”

“Blah, blah,” Kurrar said, holding up his hand and making speaking motions. “Times almost up, and we’re about to get this party started.”

A low thrum came from Shale Spark, whose body was like a compressed spring, ready to unleash the power it contained. “Just remember, I get to eat part of him,” the dragon said.

Chapter 14 - The Creation of Arin

Arin woke to the sound of rain.

It was a gentle patter at first, barely noticeable against the leaves. But within minutes, it intensified into a steady downpour that turned the forest floor into a maze of puddles and streams.

Water everywhere. Again.

Arin pressed deeper into his hollow, watching the rain with a mixture of fascination and wariness. His increased mass meant he was more resilient to dilution than before, but the risk was still a real concern. One careless moment in standing water could cost him precious size and mass quickly..

The rain continued through the morning and into the afternoon. Arin used the time to examine his status more carefully, trying to understand the changes that had come with reaching level six.

Status. 

*****

Arin Race: Slime (Evolved / Sapient) 

Level - 6 

Skill Points - 3 

Abilities: 

Absorption - Tier 2 

Fire Resistance - Tier 1 

Ice Resistance - Tier 1 

Lightning Resistance - Tier 1 

Physical Resistance - Tier 1 

Shadow Resistance - Tier 1 

Magical Resistance - Tier 1 

Acidic - Tier 1 

Slime Control - Tier 1 

Skill Absorption (2 / 2 Skills Absorbed) 

Skills: Charge - Tier 1 /// Darkvision - Tier 1

*****

Three skill points now. One from reaching level four, one from level five, and one from level six. But what were skill points for? Arin focused on the number, trying to understand.

A new notification appeared.

[ Skill Points can be used to: ] 

[ - Upgrade existing abilities to the next tier (Cost varies by ability) ] 

[ - Upgrade existing skills to the next tier (Cost: 2 points per tier) ] 

[ - Unlock new ability slots (Cost: 5 points) ]

So that's how it works. I can make what I have stronger or save up for new abilities.

Arin considered his options. Upgrading Charge or Darkvision would make them more effective, but would cost two points each. Upgrading one of his resistances or other abilities would cost less, but he wasn't sure which ones were most important.

And five points for a new ability slot seemed impossibly expensive. That would require levels of growth he couldn't yet imagine.

I'll save them for now. Wait until I understand what I need better.

The decision made, Arin turned his attention back to the rain. It showed no signs of stopping, and his essence was slowly draining despite his inactivity.

[ Current Essence: 108/120 ]

Not critical yet, but if the rain continued much longer, he'd need to hunt despite the dangerous conditions.

As if answering his thoughts, movement caught Arin's attention below. A creature was moving through the undergrowth, seemingly unbothered by the rain. It was larger than a rabbit but smaller than a boar, with a thick coat of fur that shed water like oil.

[ Woodland Badger - Level 5 ]

The badger was digging at the base of a nearby tree, its powerful claws tearing through wet soil in search of grubs or roots. It was focused entirely on its task, unaware of the predator watching from above.

Arin studied the creature carefully. Level five meant it was only one level below him now, but badgers were known for being tough and aggressive. Levi had mentioned them once, describing them as "small bears with anger issues."

But Arin was hungry, and the badger was alone.

I can do this. I'm stronger now than I was against the wolf.

Arin flowed down the tree trunk, moving slowly to avoid making noise. The rain helped mask any sound he made, the constant patter drowning out the soft sound of his mass against the bark.

The badger continued digging, its rear end facing Arin as he approached along the forest floor. Water soaked into his body, causing minor dilution, but Arin compressed his mass tighter to minimize the effect.

[ -2 Mass ]

Ten feet away. Five feet.

Arin launched himself forward using Charge, his compressed mass shooting across the distance in a heartbeat.

[ -5 Essence ]

He struck the badger's hindquarters with enough force to bowl the creature over. Before it could recover, Arin's mass flowed over its head, seeking to engulf and suffocate as he'd done with the boar and goblins.

But the badger was faster than he'd expected.

It twisted in his grip, its claws raking through his body with devastating effect. Unlike the goblin's desperate scratching, the badger's claws were designed for digging through hard earth. They tore through Arin's gelatinous mass like it was paper.

[ -15 Mass ]

Pain lanced through Arin's consciousness, and he nearly lost his grip entirely. The badger thrashed, its jaws snapping, trying to find something solid to bite.

Hold on. Just hold on!

Arin compressed even tighter, focusing all his acidic nature on the badger's eyes and nose. The creature's thrashing intensified as the burning set in, but it didn't stop fighting. If anything, the pain made it more aggressive.

Another series of claw strikes tore through Arin's body.

[ -12 Mass ]

This isn't working. It's too strong, too resistant!

Arin made a split-second decision. He released his hold on the badger's head and instead flowed around its body, targeting the legs. If he could immobilize it, prevent it from using those devastating claws, he might still win.

The badger, suddenly able to breathe again, let out a hissing growl and tried to run. But Arin's mass had already wrapped around its front legs, binding them together. The creature fell face-first into the mud, unable to gain purchase.

Now!

Arin flowed back over the badger's head, this time from behind where the claws couldn't reach as easily. He poured into the creature's mouth and nose, blocking its airways completely.

The badger bucked and rolled, trying to crush Arin against the ground or trees. Each impact hurt, but Arin's gelatinous nature meant he could absorb the blows without breaking. He just had to hold on long enough.

The creature's struggles began to weaken. Its movements became sluggish, uncoordinated. Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was probably less than two minutes, the badger went still.

[ +22 Mass ] 

[ +18 Essence ] 

[ Skill Available for Absorption ]

Arin reformed slowly, pulling his scattered mass back together. The fight had been brutal, much harder than he'd anticipated. His body felt wrong, as if sections of his mass were damaged in ways that would take time to heal.

[ Current Mass: 149% of base ] 

[ Current Essence: 119/120 ]

The mass gain barely compensated for what he'd lost during the fight. And while his essence was nearly full again, Arin felt exhausted in a way that numbers couldn't describe.

I underestimated it. I thought being one level higher would make it easier. But levels aren't everything.

The skill notification still waited. Arin examined it, curious what a badger might offer.

[ Skill Available: Burrowing - Tier 1 ] 

[ Accept skill? This will replace one of your current skills. ]

[ Burrowing. The ability to dig through earth efficiently. ]

Arin considered it carefully. Burrowing would give him access to a whole new dimension of the forest, let him hide underground, maybe even ambush prey from below. It was useful, definitely useful.

But was it worth replacing Charge or Darkvision?

Charge had already saved his life once, letting him escape the wolf. And Darkvision made night hunting effortless, removing a major disadvantage.

In the end, Arin declined the skill.

[ Skill Declined ]

It was a good ability, but not good enough to replace what he already had. Maybe if he ever unlocked a third skill slot, he could come back for burrowing. But for now, his current skills were more immediately valuable.

The rain was finally starting to ease, the downpour becoming a light drizzle. Arin climbed back into his hollow to rest and recover, his body still aching from the badger's claws.

As he settled in, something occurred to him. The fight had been difficult, yes. But he'd won. Against a level five creature that was naturally armed and aggressive, he'd won through tactics and persistence.

I'm learning and getting better at this.

The thought brought a small measure of satisfaction. Arin was no longer the confused, newly sapient slime that had fled the Academy weeks ago. He was becoming something more. A hunter. A survivor. A creature that could hold its own in this dangerous forest.

But he still had so much to learn.

***

The rain stopped completely by evening, leaving the forest wet and glistening. Arin emerged from his hollow as the sun set, his darkvision activating as shadows deepened beneath the trees.

He needed to hunt again. The badger had restored his essence, and his damaged mass still felt like it needed more material to repair itself. Even though he was a ball of slime in many ways, somehow that burrowing or claw attack had hurt. Small prey would be hit target. Animals that wouldn't fight back as fiercely.

Arin found a game trail and followed it, watching for signs of rabbits or squirrels. The wet ground made tracking easier; every creature that passed left clear prints in the mud.

That's when he noticed the other tracks.

They were large, clawed, and unmistakably canine. Wolf tracks, and fresh ones. Multiple wolves, moving as a pack through the forest.

Arin froze, his core pulsing with alarm. The wolf he'd fought before had been level seven. If this were a full pack, with multiple wolves of similar strength...

I need to avoid them. Can't risk another fight like that.

Arin climbed the nearest tree and began moving through the canopy, away from the wolf tracks. But as he traveled, he began to notice more signs of the pack. Claw marks on trees. Scent markers. Scraped earth where they'd been digging.

This is their territory. I'm in their territory.

The realization sent a chill through Arin's consciousness. He'd wandered into the range of an active wolf pack, probably while fleeing from his encounter with the lone wolf days ago. And now he was surrounded by signs of their presence.

A howl split the evening air, somewhere to the north. Another howl answered from the west. Then a third from the south.

They're hunting. And they're close.

Arin moved faster through the trees, no longer trying to be quiet, just trying to put distance between himself and the howls. His increased mass made him slower than before, less able to navigate the thinner branches, but he pushed forward anyway.

Another howl, this one almost directly behind him.

Arin looked back and saw movement in the undergrowth below. Gray shapes, multiple of them, moving with coordinated purpose through the forest.

[ Gray Wolf - Level 7 ] 

[ Gray Wolf - Level 6 ] 

[ Gray Wolf - Level 8 ]

Three wolves, all focused on his tree. And from the sounds of howling in the distance, more were coming.

They found me. How did they find me?

The answer came a moment later. Blood. The badger's blood was still on him, tiny traces that his gelatinous body had absorbed but not fully processed. The wolves had caught the scent and tracked it back to him.

The level eight wolf, larger and more scarred than the others, sat at the base of the tree and looked up at Arin. Its yellow eyes held a gleam of intelligence that suggested it remembered their previous encounter, or at least recognized him as the creature that had injured one of the pack.

The other two wolves spread out, circling the tree, cutting off any easy escape routes through the canopy.

This is bad. This is very bad.

Arin looked around desperately, trying to find a way out. The trees here weren't as densely packed as in other parts of the forest. The gaps between branches were wider, the distances harder to cross.

But staying here meant being trapped until the wolves got bored or more of the pack arrived. And Arin had a feeling that this time, they wouldn't get bored.

I need to move. Need to find a denser canopy where I can lose them.

Arin extended a tendril toward the next tree, a pine about eight feet away. It was a risky jump, but staying put was more dangerous.

The wolves watched as he began to flow across the gap. When he was halfway over, his mass split between two trees, the level eight wolf made a decision.

It backed up several paces, then charged the tree Arin had started from. The wolf's massive body slammed into the trunk with enough force to shake the entire tree. The impact traveled up through the branches, and Arin felt his tendril connection weaken.

No!

He tried to pull himself across faster, but the damage was done. The tendril snapped, and suddenly Arin was falling, half his mass tumbling through the air toward the waiting wolves below.

Chapter 13 - The Creation of Arin

The adventurers moved through the forest with what had to be practiced efficiency.

Arin followed from above, staying at least thirty feet back and using the densest foliage for cover. His darkvision let him track their movements even as the afternoon light began to fade, and his gelatinous body made virtually no sound as he flowed from branch to branch.

The human fighter led the group, his armor dulled to prevent reflections that might give away their position. The elven ranger moved beside him, her bow held ready with an arrow nocked but not drawn. The half-orc brought up the rear, that massive axe resting casually on one shoulder despite its obvious weight.

They were coordinated in a way that spoke of experience working together. Hand signals passed between them, wordless communication that kept noise to a minimum. When they paused to check for signs or threats, at least one of them was always watching in a different direction.

Professional. These aren't new adventurers stumbling through the woods. They know what they're doing.

The thought was both reassuring and concerning. If they were this competent, they'd likely succeed in clearing out the goblin camp. But they'd also be much more dangerous to Arin if they discovered him.

The goblin camp came into view through the trees, the crude structures and fire pits visible in the clearing ahead. Arin counted at least fifteen goblins moving around, more than he'd seen during his previous observation. Either the camp had grown, or the missing scout had made them bring in reinforcements.

The adventurers stopped about fifty feet from the camp's edge, gathering behind a fallen log to observe and plan. Arin positioned himself in an oak tree slightly to their left, close enough to see and hear but hopefully far enough to avoid detection.

The elven woman spoke first, her voice barely above a whisper. "Fifteen visible. Probably more in the shelters. I count three that look like warriors, one shaman, the rest are scouts or gatherers."

The human fighter nodded. "Standard formation then. Kara, you take the shaman first. Can't let it start casting. Grok, you and I go straight in, fast and hard. Don't give them time to organize."

The half-orc, Grok, apparently, grunted his agreement. "Good fight. Been too long."

"Remember, we're here to clear the camp, not for glory," the fighter said. "Quick, clean, professional."

The ranger, Kara, smiled slightly. "You say that every time, Marcus. And every time, Grok ends up covered in blood and grinning like a madman."

"Is good way to fight," Grok rumbled.

Marcus sighed but didn't argue the point. Instead, he drew his sword, a well-maintained blade that caught what little light filtered through the canopy. "On Kara's shot. Three count."

The three adventurers spread out slightly, with Kara taking a position behind a tree that offered a clear line of sight to the camp. She drew her bow fully, the arrow's tip aimed at something Arin couldn't quite see from his angle.

The shaman. She's targeting the shaman first.

He watched as Kara took a slow breath, held it, and then released it.

The arrow flew true, crossing the fifty feet between the tree line and the camp in less than a second. A goblin wearing bone decorations and holding a gnarled staff suddenly had an arrow protruding from its chest. The shaman stumbled backward, tried to speak, and collapsed.

Before the other goblins could react, Marcus and Grok charged from the tree line.

The fighter moved with surprising speed for someone wearing armor, his sword already swinging as he reached the nearest goblin warrior. The blade took the creature's head cleanly, the body crumpling before it realized it was dead.

Grok's approach was less graceful but more terrifying. The half-orc roared as he ran, his axe held in both hands. The first goblin to face him tried to raise a crude spear in defense. Grok's axe sheared through the wooden shaft and continued into the goblin's torso, nearly cutting it in half.

Chaos erupted in the camp.

Goblins scattered in all directions, some running for weapons, others simply fleeing into the forest. Kara's arrows continued to fly, each one finding a target with deadly precision. She wasn't aiming for killing shots on the fleeing goblins, just wounds that would slow them down or make them easier to track later.

A group of five goblin warriors rallied near the largest shelter, forming a defensive line with spears and crude shields. Marcus engaged them immediately, his sword work methodical and efficient. He blocked a spear thrust, sidestepped another, and countered with a slash that opened a goblin's throat.

Grok crashed into the line like a battering ram, his axe sweeping in wide arcs that forced the goblins to scatter or die. One warrior tried to stab the half-orc from the side, but Grok simply tanked the hit, the spear barely penetrating his thick hide, and responded by grabbing the goblin and literally throwing it into a fire pit.

The battle lasted less than five minutes.

When it was over, the goblin camp was silent except for the crackling of fires and the labored breathing of the three adventurers. Bodies littered the clearing, at least a dozen goblins dead or dying. A few had escaped into the forest, but not many.

Arin watched from his tree, his core pulsing with a mixture of awe and concern.

That's what high-level adventurers can do. They didn't even struggle. This was just... work for them.

Marcus cleaned his sword on a dead goblin's fur, then sheathed it. "Standard sweep. Check the shelters for survivors or loot. Kara, keep watch in case any of the runners double back with reinforcements."

The ranger nodded, taking up a position at the edge of the clearing where she could see both the camp and the surrounding forest. Her bow remained ready, another arrow nocked.

Grok and Marcus moved through the shelters, methodically checking each one. Arin heard a few brief struggles, followed by silence. They weren't taking prisoners.

From one shelter, Marcus emerged carrying a small chest. "Found their stash. Looks like they've been raiding supply caravans. Some coin, trade goods, nothing magical."

"Better than nothing," Kara said. "The guild will want confirmation of the clear anyway. The coin's just a bonus."

The guild. Levi mentioned an Adventurers' Guild. They give out contracts for clearing monster camps and protecting travelers.

The three adventurers spent another ten minutes thoroughly searching the camp, collecting anything valuable, and ensuring no goblins remained alive in hiding. When they were satisfied, Marcus pulled out a small device that looked like a compass but glowed faintly blue.

"Marking the location," he said. "Guild can send a cleanup crew to burn the structures and scatter the remains. Don't want another group moving in immediately."

As the three prepared to leave, Arin noticed something they hadn't. Movement in one of the shelters they'd already checked. A small shape, barely visible in the shadows, crawling toward the forest.

A young goblin, probably not even level one yet, wounded but alive. It had hidden well enough to escape the adventurers' initial sweep.

They didn't see it. Should I...

Arin wasn't sure what he should do. The goblin was no threat to him, probably dying anyway from its wounds. But it was also prey, and Arin's essence was still not at full capacity.

And there was something else. A memory of the mother squirrel defending her babies, of Arin's choice to find another hollow instead of killing them.

But that was different. Those were babies who had done nothing. This is a goblin, a creature that would kill and eat anything weaker than itself.

The adventurers were leaving now, heading back the way they'd come. The young goblin reached the edge of the camp and began crawling into the underbrush, leaving a trail of dark blood behind it.

Arin made his decision.

He descended from his tree quietly, staying well behind the adventurers until they were out of sight. Then he moved toward the goblin camp, toward the dying creature trying to escape.

The young goblin heard him coming and tried to crawl faster, but it was too weak. It managed to roll over, its eyes wide with fear, and raised one small hand as if that could somehow protect it.

Arin paused, studying the creature. It was barely larger than the baby squirrels had been, its features not yet fully developed into the harsh angles of the adult goblins. Blood leaked from a wound in its side where an arrow had grazed it.

It's dying anyway. If I don't kill it, something else will. Or it will just bleed out alone in the forest.

The justification felt hollow, but Arin moved forward anyway. The young goblin tried to scramble away one more time, but Arin was faster.

His mass flowed over the creature, and this time, there was no struggle. The goblin was too weak, too injured. It was over in seconds.

[ +4 Mass ] 

[ +2 Essence ] 

[ No Skill Available ]

The gain was minimal, barely worth the effort. But that hadn't really been the point, had it?

Survival. That's all this is. Survival.

Arin tried to believe that as he moved back toward the goblin camp proper. The adventurers had left behind a wealth of opportunity. Multiple bodies, each representing potential mass and essence. The question was how much he could absorb before something else arrived to investigate the carnage.

He started with the nearest goblin warrior, his mass flowing over the body.

[ +16 Mass ] 

[ +12 Essence ] 

[ Skill Available for Absorption ]

Another skill opportunity. Arin examined the notification.

[ Skill Available: Spear Proficiency - Tier 1 ] 

[ Accept skill? This will replace one of your current skills. ]

Replace a skill. So that's how it works when both slots are full.

Arin considered the spear skill. It would let him use spears more effectively, but he didn't have hands to hold weapons. The skill would be useless until he evolved further, if he ever did.

Not worth replacing Charge or Darkvision. Not yet.

[ Skill Declined ]

Arin moved to the next body, then the next, systematically absorbing what the adventurers had left behind. Each goblin provided mass and essence, bringing him closer to full strength and beyond.

After the fifth body, a notification appeared that made Arin's core pulse with excitement.

[ +14 Mass ]

[ +10 Essence ] 

[ Level Up! ] 

[ You are now Level 6 ] 

[ +1 Skill Point ] 

[ Current Mass: 134% of base ] 

[ Current Essence: 98/120 ]

Level six. And my maximum essence increased. Does it grow with each level?

The growth felt significant. Arin was larger now than he'd ever been, his mass substantial enough that he'd need to find bigger hollows to rest in. And the increased capacity meant he could go longer between feedings and use his skills more freely.

He continued absorbing bodies, driven by a hunger that felt both physical and something else. Ambition, maybe. The desire to grow stronger, to become more than he was.

By the time Arin finished, he'd consumed eight goblin bodies. The other corpses were too far from the tree line, too exposed. He didn't want to risk being caught in the open if something else arrived.

[ Current Mass: 156% of base ] 

[ Current Essence: 112/120 ]

So much stronger than I was just hours ago. Is this what power feels like?

Arin retreated to the forest, climbing a tree at the edge of the clearing where he could watch and rest. The goblin camp was truly empty now, just structures and ash and blood.

The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of purple and gold. Arin settled into a comfortable hollow and reflected on what he'd witnessed and done.

The adventurers had been efficient, professional, deadly. They'd cleared the camp without hesitation or mercy, treating it like a job rather than a battle. And then they'd simply left, moving on to whatever came next.

Is that what I need to become? Efficient? Professional? Or am I something different?

The question lingered as sleep pulled at Arin's consciousness. He was stronger now, more capable, closer to being able to survive in this dangerous world.

But he still didn't know what he was surviving for. Arin had no clue what his purpose was, beyond simply existing.

Levi wanted to help people. Wanted to use his skills to make a difference.

Could a slime do that? Could Arin find a way to honor his creator's memory while surviving in a world that would kill him without hesitation if he made a mistake?

The answers felt distant, but perhaps less impossible than they had been before.

Arin closed his awareness and let sleep take him, dreaming of crystal arenas and moldy bread and a young man's voice saying, "You can do this, Arin. I believe in you."

Chapter 12 - The Creation of Arin

Arin struck the goblin before the shout could fully form.

His wedge shape caught the creature in the chest, the impact driving it backward into the shallow stream with a splash that sent water spraying in all directions. The wooden bucket tumbled from the goblin's hands, forgotten.

The goblin thrashed, trying to draw breath for the scream that would alert its companions. Arin flowed over its face, covering the mouth and nose, his acidic nature burning exposed skin.

[ Acidic Trait Activated ]

The creature's hands clawed at him, fingers tearing through his gelatinous mass, pulling away chunks that immediately began to burn its palms. The goblin's struggles grew more frantic and desperate as it realized it couldn't breathe.

[ -4 Mass ]

Quiet. Stay quiet. Just a little longer.

The stream water lapped at Arin's edges, threatening to dilute his mass. He compressed tighter, focusing everything on blocking the goblin's airways. The creature bucked, tried to roll, its eyes wide with terror above Arin's translucent red body.

Then its movements began to slow. The clawing became weaker. The bucking stopped.

Thirty seconds later, the goblin went limp.

Arin remained in place for another ten seconds, making sure it wasn't a trick. When the creature still didn't move, he began the process of absorption, his mass flowing over the goblin's entire body.

[ +18 Mass ] 

[ +14 Essence ] 

[ Skill Available for Absorption ]

The rush of growth was immediate and welcome. Arin felt his diminished mass begin to restore itself, the essence integrating into his core and easing the constant drain he'd been fighting for days.

But more importantly, the goblin had a skill.

[ Skill Available: Darkvision - Tier 1 ] 

[ Accept skill? This will occupy 1 of 2 available skill slots. ]

Darkvision. The ability to see in darkness better than I already can.

Arin considered it quickly. He could already see fairly well at night, his slime senses picking up movement and general shapes. But perfect darkness, like the deepest parts of the forest or caves, still limited him. This skill would remove that limitation entirely.

And he still had one skill slot open.

Yes. This could be very useful.

[ Skill Accepted: Darkvision - Tier 1 ] 

[ Darkvision: See clearly in complete darkness up to 60 feet. Passive ability, no essence cost. ]

Knowledge flooded Arin's mind, and suddenly the world shifted. The shadows beneath the trees grew clearer and more defined. He could see details in the darkness that had been hidden before, textures and variations in the gloom that made the night forest feel less threatening.

Both skill slots are filled now. Charge and Darkvision. I'll have to choose carefully before taking another.

A voice called out from the goblin camp, harsh and questioning. Another goblin was looking for the one Arin had just killed.

Time to leave.

Arin flowed out of the stream, careful to shake off as much water as possible, and rolled quickly into the underbrush. He moved away from the camp, putting distance between himself and the inevitable discovery.

Behind him, he heard an angry shout. The body had been found.

More voices joined the first, a cacophony of guttural sounds that Arin couldn't understand but whose meaning was clear: alarm, anger, and most likely a call to arms.

They'll search for whatever killed their scout. I need to be far away when they do.

Arin moved through the forest as quickly as his body would allow, using his newly restored mass to maintain speed. The darkvision helped tremendously, letting him navigate the darkening woods without hesitation.

After twenty minutes of steady travel, Arin finally stopped, climbing a thick oak to rest and assess. From his vantage point, he could see torches moving through the forest behind him. The goblins were searching, but they were spreading out in multiple directions, unsure which way their enemy had gone.

They don't know what killed their scout. They're looking for wolves, or maybe a bear. Not a slime.

The thought brought a small measure of satisfaction. Arin watched the torchlight pattern for another few minutes, then moved on, staying high in the trees and traveling perpendicular to the goblins' search pattern.

By the time he found a suitable hollow to rest in, the forest behind him was dark and quiet again. The goblins had given up their search, at least for tonight.

Arin settled into his new shelter and checked his status.

[ Current Mass: 82% ] 

[ Current Essence: 43/100 ]

Much better than he'd been three days ago, though still not fully recovered from the wolf encounter. The goblin had provided good mass and essence, but Arin knew he needed more. One kill wouldn't be enough to restore him completely.

However, I can't return to that camp. Not yet. They'll be watching now, expecting trouble.

Sleep came slowly, Arin's mind replaying the fight with the goblin, analyzing what had worked and what could have gone better. The ambush had been successful, but only because the goblin had been alone and distracted. If there had been two of them, or if the creature had managed to call out before Arin struck...

I need to be smarter. More careful. Plan better.

The lessons kept accumulating, each encounter teaching Arin something new about survival in a world much larger and more dangerous than the Academy's crystal arenas.

***

Over the next week, Arin established a new routine in this unfamiliar section of the Greenwold.

He avoided the goblin camp entirely, giving it a wide berth in his travels. But he also didn't leave the area completely. The goblins' presence meant there were trails, places where prey animals came to drink or forage, and hunting opportunities.

Arin caught two more squirrels, a rabbit, and something that looked like a cross between a ferret and a snake. Each kill restored more of his mass and essence, bringing him closer to full strength.

[ Current Mass: 96% ] 

[ Current Essence: 68/100 ]

His darkvision proved invaluable during night hunts. Arin could see prey long before they saw him, could track their movements through the darkness with precision that made hunting almost too easy.

But the forest continued to remind him that he wasn't the only predator.

One evening, while tracking a deer along a game trail, Arin heard sounds that made him freeze. Grunting, snarling, the crack of breaking bones. He climbed a nearby tree to investigate and found a scene of carnage.

A bear, massive and powerful, was feeding on what had once been a boar. The creature was easily ten times Arin's size, with claws that could tear through bark as easily as flesh.

[ Forest Bear - Level 9 ]

Level nine. That's four levels higher than me.

Arin watched the bear eat, fascinated and terrified in equal measure. This was what a true apex predator looked like. The bear didn't need to be clever or plan ambushes. It simply dominated through raw power and size.

Could I ever become that strong? Or will I always need tricks and tactics?

The question had no answer, but it planted another seed in Arin's mind. Levels mattered, but so did strategy. The bear might be stronger, but Arin had already proven he could defeat creatures above his level through careful planning.

Maybe that's my advantage. My sapience. The ability to think, to plan, to learn from mistakes.

The bear finished its meal and lumbered off into the forest. Arin waited until it was completely gone before descending from his tree and continuing his hunt.

***

On the eighth day after killing the goblin scout, Arin made a discovery that changed everything.

He'd been exploring the southern edge of his new territory when he came across something that didn't belong. A backpack, weathered and torn, hanging from a low branch like someone had thrown it there in haste.

Arin approached carefully, checking for traps or threats. When nothing attacked him, he examined the backpack more closely.

Inside were human things. A water skin, empty and cracked with age. A rope, frayed but still mostly intact. A small knife, rusted but sharp. And at the bottom, wrapped in oilcloth, a book.

A journal. Someone's journal.

Arin carefully extracted the book from the backpack, his gelatinous body flowing around it without damaging the pages. He couldn't read it, not really. The symbols on the pages meant nothing to him.

But Levi had taught him letters, had shown him words while reading aloud during their training sessions. Some of these symbols looked familiar, even if Arin couldn't piece them together into meaning.

More importantly, the journal's existence raised questions. Who had left it here? An adventurer? A traveler? And what had happened to them that they'd abandoned their belongings?

Arin looked around the area more carefully and found his answer about twenty feet away.

Bones. Human bones, scattered and picked clean by scavengers. The skull was cracked, suggesting a violent death. Nearby, partially buried in leaf litter, was a broken sword and shredded leather armor.

[ Human Remains ]

No level appeared, because whatever had killed this person had done so long ago. But the scene told a story. Someone had died here, possibly killed by the goblins whose camp was less than a mile away. They'd tried to flee, throwing their backpack to move faster, but hadn't made it.

The forest is dangerous for everyone. Even humans with weapons and armor.

Arin studied the bones for a long moment, thinking about mortality and danger and the thin line between life and death that everything in this world walked.

Then he heard voices. Real voices, speaking in a language he recognized, even if he couldn't understand all the words. Common tongue, the language Levi had spoken.

Arin climbed the nearest tree and watched as three figures emerged from the forest. Not the same adventurers he'd seen gathering herbs days ago, but similar. A human man in armor, an elven woman with a bow, and something Arin had never seen before.

The third figure was tall and muscular, with gray-green skin and tusks protruding from its lower jaw. It carried a massive axe that looked like it could split a tree trunk.

A half-orc. Levi mentioned them once. Said they were strong and made good warriors.

[ Human Fighter - Level 8 ] 

[ Elven Ranger - Level 7 ] 

[ Half-Orc Barbarian - Level 9 ]

All of them were higher-level than Arin. Much higher.

The three adventurers were following a trail, checking the ground and trees for signs of something. The elven woman crouched near a tree with goblin claw marks and said something to her companions. They nodded and adjusted their path, moving deeper into the forest.

Toward the goblin camp.

They're hunting the goblins! They’re going to clear out the camp.

Arin watched them go, his mind working through the implications. If the adventurers succeeded and killed the goblins, that would remove a threat from his territory. However, it would also mean fewer opportunities for him to hunt and grow stronger on his own terms.

And if the adventurers failed...

I should follow them. See what happens. Maybe there will be opportunities in the aftermath.

It was risky. Following adventurers who could easily kill him if they discovered him. But Arin's curiosity overcame his caution, and he began moving through the trees, paralleling the adventurers' path, staying well hidden in the canopy.

This was going to be interesting.

Chapter 11 - The Creation of Arin

The standoff lasted three hours.

Arin remained on his branch, watching the wolf watch him. The creature was patient in a way that suggested it had experience with waiting. It occasionally shifted position, stood to stretch, or sniffed the air, but the wolf never strayed more than a few feet from the base of the tree.

It knows I'll have to come down eventually. Or it's waiting for me to make a mistake.

The afternoon sun crept across the sky, casting longer shadows through the forest. Arin's essence continued to slowly drain, although not yet critical, it was noticeable.

[ Current Essence: 58/100 ]

I can't just wait here forever. But I also can't fight a level seven wolf head-on. Not without a plan.

Arin studied the wolf carefully, looking for weaknesses, patterns, anything he could exploit. The creature was large, probably three times his current mass, with powerful jaws and sharp teeth. Its movements suggested speed and agility far beyond what the boar had possessed.

But it had one limitation that worked to Arin’s advantage. The wolf couldn’t climb.

The trees are my advantage. If I can use them properly...

An idea began to form. It was risky, possibly stupid, but staying in the tree until his essence ran out was guaranteed failure. Sure, it might take day,s but Arin didn’t know how long the wolf might wait.

Arin began to move, flowing along his branch toward the trunk. The wolf's ears perked up immediately, its body tensing. When Arin started climbing higher instead of lower, the wolf stood, circling again, trying to follow his movement.

Good. Stay focused on me.

Arin climbed to a height of about twenty feet, then began moving laterally through the canopy. The oak's branches intertwined with those of a neighboring one, providing a natural bridge. The wolf followed below, its yellow eyes tracking every movement.

When Arin reached the maple, he continued across to the next tree, a thick pine with dense foliage. The wolf kept pace on the ground, but Arin could see its attention was completely fixed on him now, waiting for him to descend.

Perfect. Now for the hard part.

Arin found a sturdy branch that overhung the game trail where he'd killed the boar. The wolf had followed him here, standing almost directly beneath the branch, about fifteen feet below.

Too far to drop safely. I need it closer.

Arin began to bounce slightly on the branch, making it sway. The movement caught the wolf's attention more directly. It took a step closer to the tree trunk, head cocked, trying to understand what the strange red creature was doing.

Arin bounced harder, and a section of his mass deliberately detached, falling through the air like a glob of paint. It hit the ground about five feet from the wolf with a soft splat.

The wolf jumped back, startled, then approached the fallen piece cautiously. It sniffed once, twice, then recoiled as the acidic nature of the slime registered.

But in that moment of distraction, when the wolf's attention was on the ground instead of above, Arin dropped.

He reformed into the wedge shape mid-fall, all of his remaining mass compressed into a single pointed strike aimed at the wolf's back. The creature sensed the movement a heartbeat before impact and tried to leap away.

Too slow.

Arin struck the wolf's hindquarters with enough force to knock it off balance. The wedge tore through fur and bit into muscle, and the wolf yelped in pain and surprise.

But unlike the boar, the wolf didn't go down. It spun with terrifying speed, jaws snapping at the mass on its back. Its teeth somehow found purchase, and suddenly Arin felt himself being shaken like a rag.

[ -12 Mass ]

The wolf whipped its head back and forth, trying to dislodge the slime. Arin's mass scattered in droplets across the forest floor, and panic surged through his consciousness.

Too strong. It's too strong!

Arin reformed what remained of his body and launched himself away from the wolf, using his newly acquired Charge skill for the first time. His mass compressed and shot forward in a direction the wolf wasn't looking, covering ten feet in less than a second.

[ -5 Essence ]

The skill worked, but Arin could feel the cost. Five essence for a single burst of speed.

The wolf spun, blood matting the fur on its hindquarters where Arin's wedge had struck. Its yellow eyes were no longer calculating. They were angry.

It charged.

Arin barely had time to flatten himself against the ground before the wolf's jaws snapped shut on the space where his center mass had been. He flowed sideways, trying to get to another tree, but the wolf was faster.

Teeth clamped down on a section of his body, and Arin felt himself being lifted into the air. The wolf shook again, and more of his mass went flying.

[ -15 Mass ]

I'm going to die. I can't beat this thing.

Desperation drove Arin to try something he'd never attempted before. Instead of trying to escape the wolf's mouth, he flowed into it. His acidic nature activated fully, and the wolf's jaws began to burn.

The creature dropped him immediately, pawing at its mouth, saliva and blood mixing as it tried to clear the caustic slime. Arin hit the ground and immediately split himself in two, sending half his mass rolling toward the nearest tree while the other half remained on the ground.

The wolf, confused and in pain, focused on the half that stayed behind. It attacked that section with renewed fury, tearing through the gelatinous mass with its claws and teeth.

Meanwhile, Arin's other half reached the tree and began to climb. From his vantage point ten feet up, he watched as the wolf destroyed the decoy section of his body, scattering red droplets across the forest floor.

When the wolf finally stopped its assault, panting heavily, it looked up at the tree. At Arin. The creature's muzzle was burned, bloody, and its hindquarters still bled from the initial strike.

But Arin was worse off. He'd lost nearly forty percent of his mass, and his essence was draining faster than it should, probably due to the effort of maintaining coherence while so damaged.

[ Current Mass: 61% ] 

[ Current Essence: 42/100 ]

The wolf growled, a deep rumbling sound that carried equal parts pain and promise. It circled the tree once more, then sat down, just as it had hours before.

It's going to wait again. But now I'm injured. If I wait too long, I'll be too weak to do anything.

Arin clung to his branch, trying to think through the pain and fear. The scattered pieces of his body on the ground below were already starting to dry out, their connection to his core severed. He couldn't reclaim them without going down there, and going down meant facing the wolf again.

What would Levi do? Think. There has to be a way.

Minutes passed. Then an hour. The sun was setting now, painting the forest in shades of orange and red that almost matched Arin's coloring.

The wolf remained at its post, occasionally licking its burned muzzle but never taking its eyes off the tree for long.

Then, from somewhere deeper in the forest, another howl rang out. The wolf's ears perked up, and it turned its head toward the sound. A second howl came, closer, and the wolf stood.

It looked up at Arin one more time, as if memorizing his position, then loped off into the forest toward the other wolves.

A pack. It's part of a pack.

Relief flooded through Arin, quickly followed by a new fear. If the wolf came back with others, if they surrounded the tree and took turns keeping watch...

I need to leave. Now. While I have the chance.

Arin flowed down the tree as quickly as his damaged body would allow. He collected what he could of his scattered mass, the pieces that were still viable, and felt slightly stronger for it.

[ Current Mass: 68% ]

The rest was too damaged, too dried out. He'd have to leave it behind.

Without waiting another second, Arin rolled away from the area, moving deeper into the forest in the opposite direction the wolf had gone. His mass felt wrong, unbalanced, and every movement sent small jolts of discomfort through his consciousness.

I need to rest. Need to recover. But first, I need to get far away from here.

Arin traveled through the growing darkness for over an hour, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the wolf's territory. Finally, exhausted and barely holding himself together, he found a massive oak with a hollow thirty feet up.

The climb was agonizing. Several times, Arin nearly lost his grip, his diminished mass making it harder to maintain cohesion. But eventually, he pulled himself into the hollow and collapsed into a formless puddle.

[ Current Essence: 28/100 ]

Too low. Way too low.

But there was nothing Arin could do about it now. He needed rest more than he needed food. His body needed time to stabilize, to recover from the trauma of losing so much mass so quickly.

As consciousness faded, Arin's last thought was a bitter one: he'd learned an important lesson today. He wasn't the apex predator in this forest. Not yet. There were creatures here that could kill him easily, and his newfound sapience wouldn't save him from simple overconfidence.

He'd been lucky to escape with his life.

Next time, he might not be so fortunate.

***

Three days passed before Arin felt strong enough to hunt again.

He'd spent that time in his hollow, emerging only briefly at night to catch insects that crawled along the bark. The small amounts of mass and essence they provided barely registered, but it was enough to keep him from dropping too low.

[ Current Mass: 68% ] 

[ Current Essence: 31/100 ]

I need real food. But I also need to be careful. No more wolves. Not until I'm much stronger.

Arin descended from his oak and began exploring this new section of the forest. It was different from his previous territory; the trees were spaced further apart, and the undergrowth was thicker. He'd traveled far enough that the landscape itself had changed.

As he moved through the underbrush, staying low and cautious, Arin noticed something odd. Scratch marks on the trees, deliberate and regular. They were too high for most animals, positioned at what would be chest height for a human.

Trail markers. Someone or something marks this path.

Arin followed the marked trees, his curiosity overcoming his caution. After about a hundred feet, he heard sounds. Guttural voices, speaking in a language that sounded harsh and choppy.

He climbed a nearby tree to get a better view and froze at what he saw.

A clearing, perhaps fifty feet across, with crude structures made of wood and animal hides. Fires burned in stone-lined pits, and around those fires sat creatures that Arin recognized from Levi's books.

Goblins.

There were at least a dozen of them, short and wiry with green-gray skin and pointed ears. They wore scraps of leather and fur, carried crude weapons, and spoke in their guttural tongue while roasting something over the flames.

[ Goblin Scout - Level 4 ] 

[ Goblin Warrior - Level 5 ] 

[ Goblin Shaman - Level 6 ]

A camp. I've found a goblin camp.

Arin watched from his hidden position, his mind racing. Goblins were dangerous, Levi had said so. They were cunning, worked in groups, and were known for setting traps. But they were also smaller than wolves, and individually, many of them were lower level than the creature that had nearly killed him.

Could I hunt them? Carefully, picking off stragglers?

The thought was both terrifying and tempting. Goblins would provide more mass than squirrels, more essence than rabbits. And unlike animals, they carried things, tools and weapons that might be useful somehow.

But they were also intelligent. Killing one would alert the others. They'd hunt him, set traps, coordinate their efforts.

Not yet. I'm too weak still. But maybe... maybe eventually.

As Arin watched the goblin camp, one of the creatures stood and walked toward the forest edge, perhaps twenty feet from Arin's tree. It was carrying a wooden bucket, probably going to fetch water from a nearby stream that Arin could hear.

The goblin was alone. Level four. Roughly Arin's size before he'd lost so much mass to the wolf.

No. Too risky. There are too many of them nearby.

But even as Arin thought it, he found himself following the goblin, staying in the trees, watching as it knelt by the stream and began filling its bucket.

The goblin's back was turned. The stream's sound would mask any noise. The camp was far enough away that a brief struggle might go unnoticed.

Arin's core pulsed with hunger and something else. Opportunity.

He was still deciding what to do when the goblin finished filling its bucket and stood, turning back toward camp.

And looked directly at the tree where Arin was hiding.

For a heartbeat, neither moved. Then the goblin's eyes widened, its mouth opening to shout.

Arin dropped from the tree.

Chapter 10 - The Creation of Arin

Hunger.

Arin had felt it before. The slow drain of essence, and the growing sluggishness in his mass, but never like this. Three days of careful rationing, of passing up smaller prey to avoid unnecessary risk, had brought his essence dangerously low.

[ Current Essence: 12/100 ]

The notification pulsed at the edge of his awareness like a warning bell. Twelve percent. Less than half of what he'd maintained comfortably over the past week. If it dropped much lower, Arin wasn't sure what would happen. Would he lose consciousness? Lose the sapience that made him more than just a mindless slime?

I can't let it get that low. I need to hunt. I need to feed.

The game trail he'd discovered four nights ago had become familiar territory. Arin had spent hours watching it from the safety of the trees, learning its rhythms. Deer used it in the early morning. Smaller creatures—rabbits, raccoons—traveled it at dusk. And the boars came at night, rooting along its edges where the soil was soft and rich with grubs.

Tonight, Arin was waiting.

He'd positioned himself in an old oak that stretched over the trail, its thick branches providing perfect cover about fifteen feet above the ground. The branch he'd chosen was sturdy, wide enough to support his mass, and positioned directly over a section where the trail narrowed between two large roots.

A bottleneck. Levi once mentioned how they would force enemies into predictable positions. Similar to the fight where the one never left its starting spot.

The memory was from a conversation about military tactics that Levi had been reading about. Arin hadn't understood most of it at the time, lacking the context or awareness to appreciate strategy. But now, with his newfound sapience, the concepts made perfect sense.

Control the terrain. Force the enemy into disadvantageous positions. Strike from unexpected angles.

The grunting started just after full dark.

Arin compressed his mass tighter against the branch, making himself as small and unnoticeable as possible. The sound grew louder, closer, accompanied by the familiar noise of a powerful snout tearing through earth.

The boar emerged from the darkness like a moving shadow. It was the same one Arin had seen before—or at least, one of similar size. Level six, according to the system, with dark coarse fur and ivory tusks that caught the moonlight.

[ Wild Boar - Level 6 ]

The creature moved with surprising grace for something so large, its hooves finding purchase on the root-crossed trail with practiced ease. It paused about twenty feet from Arin's position, its snout lowering to investigate something in the leaf litter.

Not yet. Wait for it to reach the bottleneck.

Arin's core pulsed with anticipation and fear in equal measure. This was the largest prey he'd attempted. If he failed, if the boar escaped or worse—fought back effectively—he might not have the essence to recover.

But if he succeeded...

The boar moved forward, grunting contentedly as it found a rich patch of soil. Fifteen feet from the bottleneck. Ten feet.

Five feet.

The boar's head was directly beneath Arin's branch, so focused on the grubs it was unearthing that it had no awareness of the predator above.

Now.

Arin released his grip on the branch and dropped toward his target.

The fall took less than a second, but Arin used that time to reshape his mass, forming the wedge that had become his most reliable weapon. The pointed edge led his descent, aimed at the boar's spine, just behind its skull where Levi had once mentioned was a vulnerable spot on most animals.

The impact was devastating.

Arin's wedge struck with all the force of his compressed mass falling from fifteen feet. The boar's front legs buckled, its snout slamming into the dirt with a wet thud. A squeal erupted from the creature. It was high-pitched, panicked, and nothing like its contented grunting from moments before.

But Arin didn't relent. The moment he struck, he began to spread, his mass flowing over the boar's head and neck, seeking to engulf the creature's airways before it could recover.

The boar thrashed, its powerful neck muscles flexing as it tried to lift its head. One tusk caught a section of Arin's mass, tearing through the gelatinous body like a knife through water.

[ -8 Mass ]

Pain lanced through Arin's consciousness—not physical pain exactly, but the sensation of losing part of himself, of being diminished. He compressed tighter, focusing his acidic nature on the boar's eyes, nose, and mouth.

The boar's squeals became muffled as Arin flowed into its nostrils. The creature reared up on its hind legs, shaking its head violently, sending droplets of red slime flying into the undergrowth.

[ -5 Mass ]

Hold on. Just hold on.

Arin could feel his essence draining with every second, the effort of maintaining his cohesion while under assault taking its toll. But the boar was weakening too. Its movements were becoming less coordinated, its breathing labored as Arin's mass blocked its airways.

The creature slammed sideways into a tree, trying to crush the slime against the bark. The impact hurt, but Arin's gelatinous nature absorbed most of the force, spreading and reforming rather than breaking.

[ -3 Mass ]

The boar stumbled, its legs shaking. It made one final desperate charge forward, but managed only a few steps before collapsing onto its side. Its chest heaved, ribs expanding and contracting as it tried to draw air through a throat filled with acidic slime.

Arin flowed deeper, his mass spreading throughout the boar's respiratory system. The creature's struggles weakened, then stopped entirely.

For a long moment, Arin remained still, not quite believing it was over. Then the notifications began.

[ +64 Mass ] 

[ +48 Essence ] 

[ Level Up! ] 

[ You are now Level 5 ] 

[ +1 Skill Point ] 

[ Skill Available for Absorption ]

The rush of growth was intoxicating. Arin felt his mass expand, felt the essence integrate into his core like liquid fire. The exhaustion that had plagued him for days vanished, replaced by a sense of vitality he'd never experienced before.

I did it. I actually killed it.

Pride warred with a hint of guilt in his consciousness, but the pride won out. This wasn't murder—it was survival. The boar would have never known Arin existed if he hadn't needed to eat. Nature was neither cruel nor kind; it simply was.

The skill notification caught his attention.

[ Skill Available: Charge - Tier 1 ] 

[ Accept skill? This will occupy 1 of 2 available skill slots. ]

Charge. The boar's rushing attack.

Arin considered it carefully. Unlike climbing, which he could already do, charging was something his slime body struggled with. He could roll quickly, could flow and reshape, but a true charge—the kind of powerful, momentum-driven attack the boar had used—was beyond his current capabilities.

Yes. This could be useful.

[ Skill Accepted: Charge - Tier 1 ] 

[ Charge: Compress your mass and launch forward with increased speed and impact force. Cost: 5 Essence per use. ]

Knowledge flooded into Arin's consciousness, not words exactly, but understanding. He knew instinctively how to compress his mass in just the right way, how to build momentum, how to release it all in a devastating forward rush.

One skill slot used. One remaining.

Arin spent the next several minutes absorbing the last traces of the boar. When he was finished, his mass had increased substantially—he estimated he was now twice the size he'd been when he first entered the forest.

The game trail was quiet again, as if the forest itself was holding its breath. Arin flowed off the trail and into the underbrush, seeking a tree to rest in. The adrenaline of the hunt was fading, replaced by a bone-deep satisfaction.

He'd leveled up. He'd gained a useful skill. He'd fed himself and secured his survival for at least another week.

Is this what it means to be a predator? This cycle of hunger, hunting, and satisfaction?

Arin found a suitable oak with a high hollow and climbed up, his increased mass making the ascent slightly slower but no less secure. As he settled in, the forest's nighttime chorus resumed—crickets, frogs, the distant hoot of an owl.

Sleep came quickly, and for the first time since Levi's death, Arin's dreams were not haunted by blood and betrayal, but filled instead with the simple, primal satisfaction of a successful hunt.

***

The next day brought rain.

Arin woke to the sound of water pattering against leaves, a gentle rhythm that would have been soothing if it weren't so dangerous. He pressed himself deeper into his hollow, watching as the forest floor below became slick with moisture.

Water everywhere. This is bad.

The rain continued for most of the day, keeping Arin trapped in his tree. He watched small streams form in the hollows between roots, watched puddles grow and merge, watched the forest transform into a glistening, treacherous landscape.

By late afternoon, the rain had slowed to a drizzle, then stopped entirely. Arin waited another hour to ensure it was truly over before venturing out of his hollow.

The forest felt different in the aftermath of rain. The air was thick with the smell of wet earth and growing things. Drops of water clung to every surface, catching the late afternoon sun and turning the forest into a field of diamonds.

Beautiful, but deadly for me.

Arin moved carefully, testing each surface before committing his weight to it. The bark was slippery, requiring more concentration to maintain his grip. He made a mental note to find shelter earlier if rain threatened again.

As he descended toward the forest floor—kept high enough to avoid the worst of the standing water—movement caught his attention.

Voices came.

Human voices.

Arin froze, every bit of his awareness focused on the source of the sound. Through the trees, perhaps fifty feet distant, he could see figures moving along a different game trail.

There were three of them. Two humans—one male, one female—and something else. Someone else. The third figure was shorter than the humans, stockier, with a thick beard and what appeared to be metal armor that clinked softly as they walked.

A dwarf. Levi read about dwarves from one of his books about the kingdom.

Arin flowed along the branch to get a better view, careful to stay hidden behind the foliage. The three adventurers—for that's what they must be, with their weapons and armor and purposeful stride—were searching for something.

The human woman knelt beside a plant, examining its leaves carefully before cutting a few stems with a small knife. She placed them in a leather pouch at her belt, then stood and continued walking.

Gathering herbs. Levi mentioned that adventurers sometimes did that, collecting ingredients for potions and alchemists.

The memory was bittersweet. Levi had loved reading about adventurers, about their quests to clear monster dens and help towns in need. He'd told Arin stories about famous adventuring parties, their exploits exaggerated to legendary proportions in the tales he'd found in the library.

"Can you imagine, Arin?" Levi had said once, his voice wistful. "Going out into the world, helping people, making a real difference? That's what I want to do after graduation. Not work in some stuffy laboratory, but actually use alchemy to help people who need it."

You never got that chance, Levi. They took it from you.

The anger that surfaced was sudden and hot, catching Arin off guard. He'd been so focused on survival, on learning and growing stronger, that he'd almost forgotten about the three students who'd murdered his creator.

Almost, but not quite.

The adventurers moved on, their voices fading into the distance. Arin remained on his branch, thinking about what he'd seen.

Other races. Other people. They come into this forest to gather herbs and possibly hunt monsters. That means there are monsters here—things more dangerous than boars and foxes.

The thought was both frightening and exciting. Dangerous creatures meant dangerous prey, but they also meant opportunities to grow stronger, to gain new skills, to evolve.

And if adventurers come here, that means there are towns nearby. Places where Levi's grandparents might be. Places where those three murderers might be living their lives as if they hadn't done anything wrong.

The seed of a plan, still too vague to call a real plan, began to form in Arin's consciousness. He needed to get stronger. Much stronger. Strong enough to protect himself, strong enough to survive in a world that was clearly more complex and dangerous than the sewers and this small section of forest.

And maybe, eventually, strong enough to find a way to honor Levi's memory. To help people, as Levi had wanted to do. Or to make those who'd killed him face justice.

But first, survival. Always survival.

Arin climbed down from the oak and began exploring his territory again, this time with a new awareness. The forest wasn't just his hunting ground—it was his training ground. Every creature he faced, every challenge he overcame, was preparing him for something larger.

He just had to stay alive long enough to figure out what that something was.

***

Two days after the rain, Arin encountered his first wolf.

He'd been tracking a rabbit through the underbrush, planning his approach, when a howl split the afternoon air. The rabbit bolted immediately, disappearing into a burrow Arin had no hope of reaching.

The howl came again, closer this time, followed by rustling in the undergrowth.

Arin compressed his mass and climbed the nearest tree as quickly as his body would allow. He reached a branch about twelve feet up just as the wolf emerged from the bushes.

[ Gray Wolf - Level 7 ]

The wolf was lean and dangerous-looking, with gray fur and yellow eyes that seemed to see everything. It sniffed the air, its head turning slowly as it tracked some scent Arin couldn't detect.

Then those yellow eyes locked onto the tree. Onto Arin.

It knows I'm here. Can it smell me?

The wolf circled the tree once, twice, its tail held low and its posture suggesting careful evaluation rather than immediate aggression. It was hunting, but unlike the foxes, it wasn't committing to an attack. It was assessing, calculating.

Smart. Much smarter than the foxes or the boar.

After a third circle, the wolf sat down at the base of the tree and looked up at Arin. The message was clear: I can wait.

This was going to be a problem.

Chapter 9 - The Creation of Arin

Night in the Greenwold was a different world entirely.

Arin discovered this within the first hour after sunset. The forest, which had been full of birds singing and rustling leaves during the day, transformed into something altogether more mysterious. New sounds came. The hoot of an owl somewhere in the distance, the chittering of insects, and the occasional snap of a twig that sent Arin's awareness spiking with alarm.

However, it was also cooler, which meant a lower risk of water evaporating from puddles and creating the humid air that made Arin's mass feel sluggish. The temperature drop was actually pleasant, invigorating in a way that surprised him.

I prefer the night. Is that strange?

Arin couldn't remember Levi ever mentioning a preference for day or night. Most of their time together had been spent in the laboratory or Levi's room, where the time of day mattered little. But here, in the wild, the distinction was significant.

During the night, Arin felt less exposed. His red coloration, so obvious in daylight, became just another shadow among many. The darkness was an ally, and he found himself moving with more confidence than he had during his daylight hunt.

He descended from the pine tree hollow, flowing down the trunk with practiced ease. The forest floor was carpeted with fallen needles that provided good traction, and Arin began to explore the area around his temporary shelter.

I need to understand this place. Learn its rhythms, its dangers, its opportunities.

The thought felt very Levi-like, methodical and careful. It made Arin's core pulse with something that might have been pride or might have been grief. Perhaps both.

A rustling in the undergrowth made him freeze. Arin compressed his mass, making himself smaller, less noticeable. Through the darkness, he could see a shape moving, low to the ground, cautious, with a distinctive waddle.

[ Woodland Raccoon - Level 3 ]

The raccoon hadn't noticed him yet. It was focused on digging through the leaf litter, its nimble paws searching for grubs or seeds. Arin watched, curious, as the creature worked. It was methodical, patient, checking several spots before moving on to the next.

A scavenger. Like the rats in the sewers, but different. More careful.

Arin let the raccoon pass without engaging. He wasn't hungry. The fox had provided enough mass to sustain him for now, and the raccoon hadn't done anything to threaten him. More importantly, watching the creature hunt provided Arin with valuable information about the forest itself.

That's where the grubs are. Under the rotting logs. And the raccoon knows to check the base of trees where water collects.

After the raccoon disappeared into the darkness, Arin continued his exploration. He found a small stream, barely three feet wide, that cut through the forest. The water was clear, cold, and absolutely deadly to him. Arin kept a careful distance, rolling parallel to the stream but staying well away from its banks.

The stream led him to a clearing where the canopy opened up, revealing a sky full of stars. Arin had never seen so many. The tower window had provided a limited view. Here, they filled the sky.

Beautiful.

The word surprised him. Beauty was a concept Levi had discussed once, reading from a philosophy book while Arin rested in his jar. "Beauty is the recognition of something greater than survival," Levi had read aloud. "It's what separates living from merely existing."

Am I living now, Levi? Or just existing?

A sound from above interrupted his musings. Arin looked up to see a shape silhouetted against the stars, an owl, its wings spread wide as it glided silently between trees. The bird was hunting, its head swiveling as it searched for prey below.

[ Great Horned Owl - Level 5 ]

Level five. Higher than me.

Arin remained perfectly still until the owl passed, then quickly retreated to the tree line. The clearing was beautiful, but it was also exposed. He made a mental note to avoid open spaces, especially at night when predators like the owl were active.

***

By the time dawn began to lighten the sky, Arin had learned several important lessons about the Greenwold's nighttime ecology. Owls hunted from above. Raccoons and other ground-dwelling scavengers owned the forest floor. Small rodents like mice, voles, and shrews were everywhere, but catching them required more speed than Arin currently possessed. And most importantly, the darkness that seemed like an advantage could also hide threats until they were dangerously close.

Arin returned to the pine tree, climbing back to his hollow just as the first birds began their morning songs. The sounds were different from the night chorus—brighter, more energetic. Within minutes, the forest was alive with chirping and trilling.

So loud. How does anything sleep through this?

But despite the noise, Arin found himself drifting toward rest again. The night of exploration had drained more essence than he'd expected, and his mass felt heavy, sluggish.

[ Current Essence: 24/100 ]

The notification appeared unbidden, and Arin studied it with interest. His essence had dropped from thirty-two to twenty-four just from moving around and maintaining his awareness throughout the night. That meant he was constantly using energy, even when not fighting or hunting.

I need to be more careful. Can't let it drop too low, or I might not have enough strength to defend myself.

Sleep claimed him before he could pursue that thought further.

***

A sharp chittering noise woke Arin several hours later. The sun was high in the sky, filtering through the pine needles in shafts of golden light. The chittering came again, closer this time, accompanied by the sound of claws on bark.

Arin shifted his vision toward the opening of his hollow and found himself face-to-face with a squirrel.

[ Red Squirrel - Level 1 ]

The creature was small, perhaps a third of Arin's current mass, with russet fur and a bushy tail that twitched with agitation. It chittered again, a sound that Arin interpreted as distinctly angry, and stamped its tiny feet on the branch outside the hollow.

It wants me to leave. This must be near its territory.

Arin began to flow out of the hollow, intending to find another resting spot, when he noticed movement deeper in the hollow he'd been occupying. His vision, which worked in all directions simultaneously, caught sight of something he'd somehow missed in his exhausted state the previous evening.

A nest. Small, made of woven grass and leaves, tucked into the deepest part of the hollow. And inside the nest, three tiny shapes, pink and hairless, squirming blindly.

[ Baby Red Squirrel - Level 0 ]

Babies. I've been sleeping next to baby squirrels.

The adult squirrel chittered more urgently now, its meaning crystal clear even without words: Get away from my children.

Arin froze, part of his mass already outside the hollow, part still inside. The squirrel was tiny, barely a threat even at his current strength. He could dissolve it in seconds, and the babies wouldn't even know what happened. Three easy sources of mass and essence.

But the image that came to mind wasn't the squirrel or its babies. It was Levi's face, the night he'd explained why he'd chosen to study alchemy instead of combat magic like so many of the noble children.

"I want to create things, Arin. I want to help things grow, not destroy them. There's enough destruction in the world already."

Would Levi want me to kill babies? Would that be surviving or just... being cruel?

Arin pulled his mass completely out of the hollow, reforming on the branch beside it. The squirrel's chittering changed pitch—still wary, but less aggressive. It darted past him, into the hollow, and Arin could sense rather than see it checking on its young.

I'll find another place to rest. There are plenty of trees.

As Arin began to climb higher into the pine, searching for an unoccupied hollow, he felt something in his core that might have been satisfaction. Or maybe it was just the memory of Levi's approval, imagined but no less real for that.

He found a suitable hollow about twenty feet higher, this one empty and facing south where the sun would keep it warm. As he settled in, Arin noticed the squirrel had emerged from the lower hollow and was watching him from a nearby branch.

They regarded each other for a long moment. Then the squirrel flicked its tail once, a gesture Arin chose to interpret as acknowledgment, if not quite gratitude, and disappeared back into its home.

***

Over the next three days, Arin established a rhythm.

Sleep during the midday heat, when the forest was at its most dangerous for him due to the increased risk of dehydration and exposure. Hunt during the late afternoon and evening, when prey was active but the light was still good. Explore during the night, when darkness provided cover and the forest revealed its hidden paths.

He learned which trees had the best hollows—oaks and pines were reliable, while birches were too young and had shallow homes. He learned that staying high in the trees wasn't just safer from ground predators, it also gave him a better view of the forest and advance warning of approaching threats.

Birds became a particular focus of study. They were everywhere, in dozens of varieties, and each species had its own patterns and preferences.

[ Common Sparrow - Level 1 ] 

[ Blue Jay - Level 2 ] 

[ Woodpecker - Level 2 ] 

[ Crow - Level 3 ]

The crows were the most interesting. They were smart—not sapient like Arin had become, but clever in ways that reminded him of Levi's problem-solving approach. They worked in groups, posted sentries, and seemed to communicate with each other through complex calls.

Arin watched a group of four crows mob a snake one afternoon, driving it away from a nest with coordinated dive-bombing attacks. The snake was twice their size, but the crows' teamwork made them the dominant force.

Cooperation. Even without words, they work together.

The observation felt important, though Arin wasn't sure why. He was alone, after all. A single slime in a vast forest. But perhaps there was a lesson to be learned about finding strength in unexpected places.

He tried hunting birds twice, but both attempts failed. They were too fast, too aware, and the moment Arin launched himself from his hiding spot, they simply flew away. It was frustrating, especially as his essence continued to drain.

[ Current Essence: 18/100 ]

Squirrels were a better target. They were slower than birds, stayed mostly on the ground or lower branches, and were common throughout the forest. But Arin found himself hesitant to hunt them after the encounter with the mother and her babies.

Not all of them have young. Some are just adults, foraging alone. Those would be fair game.

The rationalization didn't make him feel much better, but survival demanded food, and sentiment was a luxury he couldn't always afford.

On the third evening, Arin finally managed to catch a squirrel—a large male that had been so focused on burying an acorn that it didn't notice the red slime until too late.

[ +8 Mass ] 

[ +6 Essence ] 

[ Skill Available for Absorption ]

The last notification made Arin's entire being pulse with excitement.

A skill! I can absorb a skill from this squirrel!

He focused on the notification, trying to understand what it meant.

[ Skill Available: Climbing - Tier 1 ]

[ Accept skill? This will occupy 1 of 2 available skill slots. ]

Climbing. That makes sense, squirrels are excellent climbers.

But did Arin need this skill? He could already climb, having done so for days now. Would having it as a formal skill make him better at it, or was it redundant?

I can only hold two skills at a time. I need to choose carefully.

In the end, Arin decided against taking the climbing skill. He was already proficient enough, and there would be other creatures, other skills that might prove more useful. The notification faded, and with it, the opportunity.

[ Skill Declined ]

Part of him wondered if he'd made a mistake, but there was no taking it back now. The system had rules, and he was still learning them.

***

On the fourth night, Arin discovered something that would change his understanding of the forest entirely.

He'd been exploring a section of the Greenwold he hadn't visited before, following a game trail that wound between massive oak trees. The path was well-worn, suggesting regular use by larger animals, and Arin had been careful to stay hidden in the underbrush alongside it.

That's when he heard the grunting.

It was deep, rhythmic, accompanied by the sound of something heavy moving through the leaf litter. Arin froze, compressing his mass down to nearly nothing, and watched as a shape emerged from the darkness.

[ Wild Boar - Level 6 ]

The boar was massive, easily four times Arin's current size, with coarse dark fur and tusks that gleamed in the moonlight. It was rooting in the ground, its powerful snout tearing through dirt and roots in search of tubers or grubs.

Level six. That's two levels higher than me. Could I even fight that?

The answer was probably not. At least, not directly. The boar was too large, too strong, too well-armored with thick hide and muscle. If Arin tried to engulf it the way he'd done with the rats and fox, he'd likely just get gored by those tusks.

But watching the boar work, Arin felt something stir in his core. Not fear, though there was some of that. Something else. Something primal and hungry.

That much mass. That much essence. If I could find a way...

The boar moved on, following the game trail deeper into the forest, and Arin let it go. But the seed of an idea had been planted. There were larger prey in this forest, creatures that could provide significant growth if he could figure out how to hunt them.

He just needed to be smarter. He needed to plan. What Arin needed to do was to think like Levi would have thought.

As Arin made his way back toward his pine tree hollow, the eastern sky was just beginning to lighten with pre-dawn gray. Another night of exploration, another collection of lessons learned.

The forest was teaching him, one encounter at a time, what it meant to be a predator. What it means to be alive.

And somewhere in the back of his consciousness, a question formed that Arin couldn't quite answer yet: Was he hunting to survive, or was he beginning to enjoy the hunt itself?

The distinction might matter. Eventually.

Chapter 8 - The Creation of Arin

The Greenwold lived up to its name.

Arin had never seen so much green in his entire existence. Every shade imaginable seemed to be represented. A deep emerald of moss-covered trunks, the bright lime of new spring leaves, the dark forest green of ancient pines, and the yellow-green of ferns that carpeted the forest floor.

Is this what Levi saw when he looked at the world? So many colors?

The transition from the muddy riverbank to the forest edge had taken longer than Arin expected. The ground near the river was soft, treacherous, and twice he'd had to detour around puddles that threatened to dilute his mass. The rising sun had warmed the mud, making it easier to traverse, but Arin could feel the pull of exhaustion settling into his core.

Do slimes get tired? I never felt this way in the jar.

The answer, apparently, was yes. The constant movement, the fights, the fear—all of it was draining something from him that rest might restore. At least, that's what Arin hoped.

The first trees of the Greenwold rose before him like ancient sentinels. Their trunks were thick, gnarled with age, and their roots created a complex network of hollows and hiding places. Arin rolled toward the nearest oak, its base wide enough that three men standing arm to arm couldn't encircle it.

A hollow at the base of the tree, perhaps two feet deep and half as wide, seemed to beckon. Arin flowed inside, compressing his mass to fit the space. The wood was dry here, protected from rain by the canopy above, and the smell—if Arin could be said to smell—was earthy and ancient.

Safe. For now.

Arin settled into the hollow, his red mass darkening slightly as he relaxed his form. The notifications from his status still lingered at the edge of his awareness, and for the first time since leaving the sewers, he had a moment to examine them properly.

Status.

*****

Arin Race: Slime (Evolved / Sapient) 

Level - 4 

Skill Points - 1 

Abilities: 

Absorption - Tier 2 

Fire Resistance - Tier 1 

Ice Resistance - Tier 1 

Lightning Resistance - Tier 1 

Physical Resistance - Tier 1 

Shadow Resistance - Tier 1 

Magical Resistance - Tier 1 

Skill Absorption (0 / 2 Skills Absorbed) 

Acidic - Tier 1 

Slime Control - Tier 1

*****

One skill point. What does that mean?

Arin focused on the words, trying to make sense of them. The system had granted him this when he reached level four, but the purpose remained unclear. Could he improve his abilities? Learn new ones? The phrase "Skill Absorption" caught his attention—zero out of two skills absorbed. That suggested he could take something from the creatures he consumed, but he hadn't acquired anything yet.

I need to learn how this works. However, I need to rest first.

The hollow was warm, sheltered, and for the first time since Levi's death, Arin felt something approaching peace. He couldn't call it happiness because that emotion was still too foreign, too painful to contemplate. Instead, it was more a feeling of relief about being no longer in immediate danger.

His consciousness began to drift, and Arin let it. Sleep, or whatever approximation of it a slime could achieve, pulled at him like a gentle tide.

***

Arin woke to the sound of footsteps.

His awareness snapped back instantly, his mass tensing in the hollow. The footsteps were light, careful, and accompanied by the soft rustle of disturbed leaves. Something was moving through the forest, and it was close.

Arin shifted his vision toward the opening of the hollow. Late afternoon sun filtered through the canopy, casting dappled shadows across the forest floor. He'd slept longer than intended. It appeared that a large portion of the day had passed while he recovered.

A shape moved past the tree, perhaps ten feet away. Arin caught a glimpse of brown fur, four legs, and a bushy tail before the creature disappeared behind a dense thicket of ferns.

[ Forest Fox - Level 2 ]

A fox. Levi read about those once, from one of his books.

The memory was fuzzy, but Arin recalled something about foxes being clever hunters, opportunistic feeders that would eat almost anything. The creature was smaller than him, lower level, and alone.

Prey.

The thought came unbidden, and with it a pang of something that might have been guilt. The fox wasn't threatening him. It was just passing through, probably searching for food of its own. Did that make it fair game?

I need to grow stronger. That's the only way to survive. And survival means eating.

Arin flowed out of the hollow, keeping low to the ground. His red coloration stood out against the brown and green of the forest floor, but the spotted sunlight helped break up his shape. He moved slowly, carefully, tracking the fox by the sound of its movement through the undergrowth.

The fox had stopped about twenty feet ahead, its attention focused on something in the leaf litter. As Arin drew closer, staying behind a fallen log, he could see what had captured the creature's interest—a beetle, though much smaller than the one he'd fought in the sewers.

The fox pounced, its front paws pinning the beetle to the ground. Quick snaps of its jaws, and the insect was gone.

Now. While it's distracted.

Arin surged forward, his mass compressing into the wedge shape that had become his primary weapon. The fox's ears twitched at the sound of his approach, and the creature spun, eyes widening at the sight of the red slime bearing down on it.

But Arin was faster. The wedge struck the fox's side with enough force to knock it off balance. Before the creature could recover, Arin's mass flowed over it, engulfing the struggling animal.

The fox thrashed, its claws raking through Arin's gelatinous body, creating furrows that hurt but didn't significantly damage him. Its teeth found purchase, tearing away small chunks of slime, but Arin's acidic nature was already at work.

[ -2 Mass ]

The fox's struggles grew weaker. Its movements became sluggish as the acid burned through fur and flesh. Within thirty seconds, it stopped moving entirely.

[ +15 Mass ] 

[ +10 Essence ]

Arin reformed, pulling his mass back together and absorbing the last traces of his kill. The guilt was still there, a small weight in his consciousness, but it was accompanied by something else—satisfaction. He'd hunted successfully, had claimed his first real prey in the wild.

Is this what predators feel? This mix of accomplishment and regret?

A sound cut through his musings—a low growl, coming from the direction the fox had first appeared.

Arin turned his vision and felt his core go cold.

Three more foxes emerged from the undergrowth, their eyes fixed on him. These were larger than the one he'd killed, their fur darker, their postures aggressive.

[ Forest Fox - Level 3 ] 

[ Forest Fox - Level 3 ] 

[ Forest Fox - Level 4 ]

A pack. I killed one of their pack.

The largest fox, the level four, took a step forward. Its lips pulled back in a snarl, revealing teeth that could easily tear through Arin's mass. The other two spread out, flanking him on either side.

They're coordinating. Just like the rats did.

Arin compressed his mass, making himself as small and dense as possible. The hollow where he'd rested was too far away to reach before they attacked. The nearest cover was a thick patch of ferns about fifteen feet to his left, but that would mean turning his back on one of the flanking foxes.

Think. What would Levi do?

The level four fox charged, and the decision was made for him.

Arin didn't try to fight. Instead, he flattened his mass and rolled sideways, narrowly avoiding the snapping jaws. The fox's momentum carried it past him, and for a moment, Arin had a clear path toward a massive oak tree with low-hanging branches.

He took it.

Arin rolled faster than he'd ever moved before, his entire being focused on reaching that tree. Behind him, he could hear the foxes giving chase, their paws thundering against the forest floor.

Ten feet. Five.

Arin hit the base of the tree and immediately began to climb, flowing up the rough bark with the technique he'd practiced on the tower. The first fox reached the base just as Arin pulled his mass onto a branch about eight feet off the ground.

The foxes circled below, their growls mixing into a chorus of frustration. The level four leaped, its jaws snapping at the branch, but Arin was just out of reach.

They can't climb. Not like I can.

Relief flooded through him, quickly followed by a realization—he was trapped. The foxes split up around the base of the tree. They showed no sign of leaving, and Arin couldn't stay in the tree forever. Eventually, he'd need to come down, and they seemed perfectly willing to wait.

What do I do? I can't fight three of them at once. The level four alone is as strong as I am.

Arin studied the foxes from his perch. They were agitated, pacing, but also watchful. This was personal for them—he'd killed one of their own, and they wanted revenge. Or maybe it was simpler than that. Maybe they just recognized him as a threat that needed to be eliminated.

A memory surfaced, one of Levi talking to Liora during a break between classes. Arin had been in his jar on the desk, half-listening to their conversation about tactics.

"The best fights are the ones you don't have," Levi had said. "If you can avoid a confrontation, avoid it. Save your strength for battles that matter."

But how do I avoid this?

Arin looked up at the branches above him. The oak was old, its limbs spreading wide and interlocking with the branches of neighboring trees. A network of wood and leaves stretched through the canopy, creating highways that must be used by squirrels and birds.

Can I travel through the trees? Move from branch to branch until I'm far enough away that they lose interest?

It was risky. If he fell, if he miscalculated a jump, he'd land right in the middle of the waiting foxes. But staying here wasn't an option either.

Arin climbed higher, moving from branch to branch until he was nearly twenty feet off the ground. The foxes below became smaller, their growls quieter. At this height, a neighboring maple tree's branches were close enough to reach—perhaps four feet away, with nothing but empty air between.

I can make it. I have to make it.

Arin extended a tendril toward the maple branch, the same technique he'd used with the stalactites in the sewers. The tendril stretched, thinned, and finally made contact with the rough bark.

He began to flow across the gap, his mass transferring through the thin connection. It was slower than climbing, more exposed, but the foxes below didn't seem to realize what he was doing. Their attention was still focused on the oak tree, on the branch where Arin had first stopped.

Halfway across, a gust of wind shook both trees.

Arin's tendril swayed, and for a terrifying moment, he thought it would snap. His mass, split between two trees, pulled in both directions. But the tendril held, and Arin continued his transfer, moving as quickly as he dared.

Finally, all of his mass was on the maple branch. Arin paused, looking back at the oak tree and the three foxes that still circled its base.

They haven't noticed yet.

Arin continued moving, branch to branch, tree to tree, putting distance between himself and the hunting pack. After about ten minutes of careful navigation through the canopy, he looked back and could no longer see the foxes.

I made it. I actually escaped.

The relief was profound, but so was the lesson. The forest was dangerous. Everything here was a potential threat, and Arin was still weak, still learning. The tournament had taught him to fight, but survival in the wild was a different kind of education entirely.

Arin found another tree hollow, this one high up in a gnarled pine, and settled inside to rest. Through the opening, he could see the forest stretching endlessly in all directions, and beyond it, barely visible through the trees, the distant walls of Vyrdan.

I need to get stronger. Much stronger. And I need to learn how this system works, how to use these skill points, how to absorb abilities from what I consume.

The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. Night would come soon, and with it, new dangers. But for now, Arin was alive, was free, and was learning what it meant to be a predator in a world that didn't care about fairness or second chances.

A world where the only rule that mattered was survival.

Chapter 7 - The Creation of Arin

The sewers of Vyrdan were older than the Academy itself.

Arin didn't know this consciously, but as he navigated the ancient tunnels, he could sense the age in the worn stone, the layers of sediment that had accumulated over centuries. The bioluminescent moss grew thicker in some sections, casting an eerie green glow that made the shadows dance.

Follow the water. 

Levi had said everything in the city flows down toward the river.

The current in the drainage channel moved steadily to his right, which meant Arin needed to keep the water on that side as he traveled along the walkway. He'd already learned that lesson painfully. The dilution had stopped, but he could still feel the missing mass, like a part of him was missing.

Could slimes have phantom mass? The thought was absurd, but it made Arin's core pulse with what might have been amusement.

I'm thinking about thinking. Is this what Levi did all the time? No wonder he looked tired.

The tunnel ahead branched into three directions. Arin paused, his form spreading slightly to better sense his surroundings. The left passage was dry, with only a trickle of water along its base. The middle tunnel was wider, with faster-moving water and a louder echo. The right passage seemed to curve upward slightly.

Middle. The main flow.

Arin rolled forward, keeping well away from the water's edge. The sound of flowing liquid was constant now, a background rhythm that almost felt calming. Almost. The memory of dilution was too fresh, too frightening.

Something crunched under his mass.

Arin stopped and reformed slightly, looking down at what he'd rolled over. Bones. Small ones, probably from rats or perhaps something else. They were old, picked clean, scattered across the walkway as if something had been feeding here regularly.

A hunting ground.

The realization came with a prickle of awareness that Arin was beginning to recognize as danger. He'd felt it in the arena, right before each match began. Now it was here, in the darkness, warning him that he wasn't alone.

A skittering sound echoed from above.

Arin looked up—or rather, shifted his vision upward. His three-hundred-sixty-degree sight was still something he was learning to process. There, clinging to the curved ceiling about fifteen feet ahead, was an insect the size of Arin's entire mass.

It had too many legs—eight, maybe ten—and a segmented body that gleamed with a wet, chitinous sheen. Two antennae as long as Arin was wide waved slowly in the air, and a pair of mandibles clicked together with a sound like breaking twigs.

[ Sewer Beetle - Level 4 ]

The words appeared in Arin's vision, unbidden. Another aspect of this new life he didn't fully understand yet. Not long after his first encounter with the rats, another had appeared. Staring at it had revealed it was a [ Sewer Rat - Level 1 ]. That knowledge meant something but he wasn’t sure what yet.

It's a higher level than me. Does that mean it's stronger?

The beetle's antennae suddenly stopped moving. Its many eyes, Arin counted six, all focused on him at once.

Then it dropped.

Arin rolled sideways, his reaction time faster than it had been even during the tournament. The beetle crashed onto the walkway where he'd been a moment before, its legs scrambling for purchase on the slick stone.

It's fast, but not as agile as the rats were.

The beetle turned, its mandibles opening wide. A spray of green liquid shot from its mouth, splattering across the stone where Arin had been rolling.

The stone hissed and began to smoke.

Acid. It has acid too.

Arin felt something that might have been professional respect. Here was another creature that used dissolution as a weapon. But where Arin's acid was part of his very nature, this beetle seemed to produce and project it.

The beetle charged, its multiple legs giving it surprising speed in a straight line. Arin didn't try to dodge this time. Instead, he compressed his mass and formed the wedge shape that had served him so well against the rotifer.

The beetle's mandibles clamped down on the wedge and immediately began to sizzle.

[ Acidic Trait Activated ]

But the beetle's own acid was mixing with Arin's, creating a caustic reaction that hurt them both. Arin felt sections of his mass beginning to burn, to break down in distinctly unpleasant ways.

[ -3 Mass ]

It's hurting me. Need to change tactics.

Arin dissolved the wedge and flowed backward, reforming into a ball. The beetle shook its head, mandibles clicking in what might have been pain or confusion. Green foam dripped from its mouth, eating small pits into the stone.

I can't just engulf it. The acid will hurt me more than I can hurt it. Need to think. What would Levi do?

A memory surfaced. Levi's voice, quiet and thoughtful, as he sat at his small desk late one night while Arin rested in his jar.

"The tournament's not just about power, Arin. It's about understanding your opponent. Every creature has a weakness. The trick is finding it before they find yours."

Weakness. What's this thing's weakness?

Arin studied the beetle as it recovered. Its shell was thick, probably resistant to his acid. Its mandibles were dangerous. Its ranged attack was lethal. But those legs...

The beetle charged again, and this time Arin rolled to meet it. At the last second, he flattened himself into a thin sheet and flowed under the creature's body, coating the underside of its thorax and wrapping around its legs.

The beetle's charge turned into a stumble as its legs suddenly found themselves stuck together, bound by acidic slime that was actively dissolving the joints where the chitinous armor was thinnest.

It thrashed, trying to dislodge him, but Arin held on, focusing all his caustic nature on those vulnerable joints. The beetle's acid sprayed wildly, hitting the walls, the ceiling, even its own back, but couldn't reach the underside where Arin clung.

One leg came free, dissolved at the joint. Then another.

The beetle's thrashing grew more desperate. It tried to roll, to crush Arin against the stone, but with each passing second, it lost more mobility. Finally, with four of its legs completely dissolved, it collapsed onto its side, mandibles clicking weakly.

Arin flowed over it, engulfing the entire body. The beetle's shell was tough, but the soft tissue underneath was already exposed from the dissolved joints. His acidic nature went to work, and within minutes, the creature stopped moving.

[ +28 Mass ]

[ +15 Essence ]

[ Level Up! ]

[ You are now Level 4 ]

[ +1 Skill Point ]

The notifications appeared one after another, and with them came a sensation of growth, of expansion. Arin felt his mass increase as the essence he'd absorbed integrated into his core. But more than that, he felt different. Stronger. More substantial.

Level four. Same as the beetle was. Does that mean I'm as strong now as it was?

The thought was oddly satisfying. Arin collected the last traces of his absorption and continued down the tunnel, leaving the beetle's shell behind—too thick to dissolve quickly, and Arin sensed he needed to keep moving.

The tunnel continued to slope downward, and the sound of rushing water grew louder. Arin passed through more side passages, more scattered bones, and more evidence of the ecosystem that had existed beneath the city. Twice more, he encountered rats, but these were smaller, less aggressive. They fled at his approach, perhaps sensing that he was no longer prey.

I'm growing stronger. But is this what Levi wanted? To become a predator?

The question had no answer, but it sat heavy in Arin's consciousness as he moved through the darkness.

The tunnel opened into a larger chamber, and Arin stopped at the threshold, his senses overwhelmed by the scale of it.

The chamber was massive—at least a hundred feet across and half as tall. Multiple drainage channels converged here, all flowing toward a central point where the water disappeared through a large grated gate. The gate itself was ancient iron, thick with rust and moss, with bars spaced wide enough that smaller debris could flow through but larger objects would be caught.

And there, lounging in the shallows near the gate, was a creature that made the beetle look small.

It was vaguely crocodilian, but wrong in ways that Arin's newly awakened mind couldn't quite articulate. Its body was at least twelve feet long, covered in overlapping scales that gleamed with a sickly yellow-green color. Four stubby legs ended in webbed claws, and its head was broad and flat, with eyes that sat high on its skull and a mouth full of jagged teeth.

But it was the tail that drew Arin's attention. The tail was long and thick, with ridged spines running along its length. As Arin watched, the tail swayed lazily in the water, creating small currents that drew floating debris toward the creature's mouth.

[ Sewer Drake - Level 7 ]

Seven. It's level seven.

Arin felt something cold settle in his core. This wasn't a fight he could win. The drake was too large, too high-level, and it lived in the water, the one substance Arin couldn't risk prolonged contact with.

But the gate was behind the drake. The sound of rushing water beyond that gate called to Arin like a promise. The river. Freedom. The way out.

I need to get past it. But how?

Arin stayed at the tunnel entrance, hidden in shadow, watching the drake. It hadn't noticed him yet, or if it had, it didn't consider him a threat. The creature's attention was focused on the water, on the occasional fish or rat that was swept toward the gate by the current.

It's hunting and using the current to bring food to it.

A memory tickled at Arin's awareness. Levi, during one of their training sessions, had placed treats in different locations around the room and taught Arin to navigate between them without being seen by a small enchanted sphere that would flash light if it detected movement.

"Stealth isn't about being invisible, Arin. It's about being where they're not looking."

Where it's not looking.

Arin studied the chamber more carefully. The ceiling was covered in moss and hanging stalactites. The walls were made of rough stone, with multiple ledges and protrusions. Several of the drainage channels had raised walkways along their edges, though some had crumbled over the years.

A plan began to form.

Arin moved along the wall, keeping to the darkest shadows. His red coloration was a disadvantage here, but the bioluminescent moss cast everything in shades of green, making his color less distinct. He flowed up the wall, using the same technique he'd practiced in climbing down the tower.

The drake's head turned slightly, following the movement of something in the water. It lunged forward with surprising speed, jaws snapping shut on a rat that had been trying to swim across the chamber. The rat's squeal was cut short, and the drake swallowed it whole before settling back into its hunting posture.

Arin continued his climb, reaching the ceiling about twenty feet above the water. From here, he could see the layout of the entire chamber. The gate was perhaps forty feet away—close enough to reach, but only if he could avoid the drake's attention.

The stalactites. I can use them.

Arin flowed along the ceiling until he reached the nearest stalactite. It was old limestone, worn smooth by centuries of water dripping from above. Arin wrapped his mass around it, feeling the cool stone against his gelatinous body.

Then he let go of the ceiling, his entire weight now suspended from the stalactite by a thin tendril of slime.

The stalactite creaked.

Arin froze, his entire being focused on not making more noise. Below, the drake's head swiveled, eyes scanning the ceiling. For a long moment, neither moved.

Then a fish jumped in the water, and the drake's attention snapped back to its hunting.

Too heavy. I'm too heavy for this.

Arin reconsidered his approach. The stalactite wouldn't support his full mass, but what if he didn't need it to? What if he could move from stalactite to stalactite, distributing his weight, using them like stepping stones across the ceiling?

He extended a tendril to the next stalactite, perhaps six feet away. The tendril stretched, thinned, until it was barely thicker than his finger had been—when he'd had fingers. When Levi had had fingers.

Don't think about that now. Focus.

The tendril reached the next stalactite and wrapped around it. Arin pulled, testing its strength. It held.

Slowly, carefully, he began to transfer his mass across the gap, flowing through the thin tendril like water through a pipe. It took almost a full minute, and every second felt like an eternity as he hung suspended above the drake.

But it worked.

Arin repeated the process, moving from stalactite to stalactite. Each transition was agonizingly slow, each moment a risk of discovery. Below, the drake continued its patient hunting, occasionally lunging at prey but remaining still for the most part.

Twenty feet to the gate. Fifteen. Ten.

Arin reached the final stalactite, directly above the rusted iron bars. Beyond them, he could hear it clearly now—the rush of water flowing freely, the promise of the river and escape.

But there was a problem.

The gate was at water level. To reach it, Arin would have to drop down and pass within inches of the drake's position. Even if he timed it perfectly, even if the drake was distracted...

It's too risky. But what choice do I have?

Arin hung there, suspended above the water, above the drake, above his only path to freedom. Every instinct screamed at him to flee, to find another way, to avoid this confrontation.

But Levi's voice came to him again, soft and warm, from a memory of the tournament's final match.

"Sometimes the only way forward is through, Arin. Sometimes you have to take the risk and trust yourself."

Trust myself. I'm a slime. I'm supposed to be mindless. But I'm not. Not anymore.

Arin waited, watching the drake's hunting pattern. Every thirty seconds or so, the creature's attention would focus on one particular section of the chamber where the current from two channels met, creating eddies that trapped debris and small prey.

Thirty seconds. That's all I need.

The drake lunged at another rat, its head fully submerging as it pursued the fleeing rodent into deeper water.

Arin let go.

He fell, his mass compressed into the smallest, densest form he could manage. The drop was ten feet, perhaps less, and he hit the gate with a soft thwap that was barely audible over the rushing water.

Immediately, Arin began to flow through the bars. They were at least six inches wide, and his compressed form could easily fit. The water was right there, inches away, spray from the current misting against his body and causing small sections to dilute.

[ -1 Mass ]

Faster. Move faster.

Arin was halfway through when the drake's head emerged from the water, the rat forgotten. Those high-set eyes locked onto the gate, onto the red mass that was flowing through it.

The drake roared—a sound that was part bellow, part hiss, that echoed through the entire chamber. It lunged forward, jaws opening wide.

Arin squeezed the last of his mass through the bars just as those teeth snapped shut on the space where he'd been. The drake's head slammed into the gate with enough force to make the ancient iron ring like a bell.

But Arin was through.

On the other side of the gate, the water flowed freely into a wide channel. The current was strong here, pulling at Arin's body, threatening to sweep him away. He clung to the rough stone wall on the far side of the channel, his mass spread thin to maintain his grip.

Behind him, the drake thrashed against the gate, its claws scraping against iron, its roars of frustration echoing through the tunnel. But the gate held, and after a few moments, the creature gave up, settling back into its hunting posture with an air of disappointed malice.

I made it. I actually made it.

Arin flowed along the wall, following the channel as it sloped even more steeply downward. The sound of rushing water was all-consuming now, a constant roar that drowned out all other noise.

The tunnel made one final turn, and suddenly Arin could see light.

Not the green bioluminescence of the sewers, but real light. Dawn light. The warm golden glow of the rising sun.

The channel emptied into the River Ys through a wide outflow pipe. Beyond that pipe, Arin could see the riverbank, could see grass and trees, could see the sky beginning to brighten with the colors of morning.

He'd made it. He was free.

Arin flowed out of the pipe and onto the muddy riverbank, keeping well away from the water. The mud was soft, welcoming, and he rested there for a moment, his mass spread out to catch the warmth of the rising sun.

I'm outside. I'm really outside.

The city of Vyrdan rose behind him, the seven towers of the Academy visible even from here, silhouetted against the dawn sky. Somewhere in one of those towers, in a room that was now a tomb, was the body of the person who had given Arin life.

I'm sorry, Levi. I couldn't stay. I couldn't save you. But I'll live. I promise. I'll learn what that means.

Ahead, perhaps half a mile distant, was the edge of the Greenwold. The forest was dark even in the growing light, a wall of trees and shadows that promised both danger and shelter.

Arin pulled himself together, reformed into a traveling shape, and began to roll toward the tree line. Behind him, the river flowed on, carrying away the refuse of the city. Above him, the sun continued to rise, painting the sky in shades of gold and crimson.

It was the first sunrise Arin had ever truly seen, and it wouldn't be the last.

Chapter 6 - The Creation of Arin

Status.

*****

Arin

Race: Slime (Evolved / Sapient )

Level - 3

Skill Points - 0

Abilities:

Absorption - Tier 2

Fire Resistance - Tier 1

Ice Resistance - Tier 1

Lightning Resistance - Tier 1

Physical Resistance - Tier 1

Shadow Resistance - Tier 1

Magical Resistance - Tier 1

Skill Absorption ( 0 / 2 Skills Absorbed)

Acidic - Tier 1

Slime Control - Tier 1

*****

Arin stared at the words before him in awe and wonder.

I'll need to find out what all that means… for now, I need to get out of here.

A half moon was at its highest point in the night sky, with a few clouds drifting in front to provide a little more darkness.

I… I know daytime is coming and I'll need to get out of here quickly.

Finding himself with no other option, Arin began to make his way down the wall, descending it as fast as he safely could in the darkness of the night.

Six other large towers like the one Arin was making his way down gave him an idea of how far of a descent it would be.

The sewers… Levi mentioned them. That's the way out.

With a small plan, Arin took his first steps in the world, unsure what living would be like or how to handle the emotions that fought against each other.

All he knew was Levi had given him the gift of life, and he would learn what living meant.

The stone was cold against Arin's gelatinous body, but he didn't mind. In fact, the sensation was new—something he'd never truly felt before. Every texture, every shift in temperature, every variation in the surface he clung to registered in ways that made the world seem impossibly vast.

Is this what Levi experienced every day?

Arin paused about halfway down the tower, his red mass spread thin against the mortared stone. Below, the courtyard stretched out in darkness, punctuated by a few torches near the main gates. Two guards stood at their posts, but their attention was focused outward, toward the city streets beyond.

They won't see me. Not if I'm careful.

He resumed his descent, moving slower now, keeping his body pressed flat against the shadowed sections of wall. The rough stone scraped against him—not painfully, but with enough friction that he had to concentrate to maintain his grip.

A memory surfaced, unbidden. Levi's voice, patient and warm, as he held a piece of moldy bread just out of reach during one of their training sessions.

"That's it, Arin. Reach for it. Extend yourself. You can do more than you think you can."

The memory hurt in a way Arin couldn't fully comprehend. It was like the acid he produced, but turned inward, dissolving something inside his core that he hadn't known existed until now.

Levi.

The name echoed through his consciousness, and with it came a flood of images. Levi's face, proud and grinning after their first victory. Levi's hands, gentle as they dropped treats into the jar. Levi's eyes, wide with terror and fading as—

Arin's grip faltered.

He slid several feet down the wall before catching himself, his mass spreading instinctively to increase friction. For a moment, he clung there, his entire being focused on not falling, on not making noise, on not drawing attention.

Focus. Levi would want me to focus.

Slowly, carefully, Arin resumed his descent. The remaining distance passed in a blur of concentration and fear, each foot of progress a small victory against the panic that threatened to overwhelm his newfound awareness.

Finally, his mass touched the ground.

The courtyard stones were smooth, worn by countless feet over the years. Arin kept low, moving along the base of the wall toward the shadows cast by a supply shed. His progress was maddeningly slow—slower than he'd ever moved in the arena—but speed would mean discovery, and discovery would mean death.

The sewers. Levi said they run under the whole city. Said the smell was terrible, but that they connected to the river eventually.

Arin reached the shed and paused, his form compressed into a ball roughly the size of a melon. From here, he could see a grated opening in the ground near the far wall, about thirty feet away. Steam rose from it in thin wisps, and even from this distance, Arin could sense the warmth.

That's it. That has to be it.

But between him and the grate were two more guards making their rounds, their boots clicking against stone in a steady rhythm.

Arin waited, counting the seconds between their passes. He'd watched Levi count things before—ingredients, coins, even the number of times the Voltfilament Nematode could attack in a minute. Numbers made sense in a way that feelings didn't.

Thirty-seven seconds. Then they turn the corner.

When the guards' backs were turned, Arin moved.

He'd never traveled so fast before, his entire mass rolling and sliding across the smooth stone. The grate grew larger in his vision, the gaps between the metal bars easily wide enough for him to squeeze through.

Twenty feet.

Fifteen.

Almost there.

Ten feet.

"Oi, you see that?" a guard called out.

Arin froze, his momentum carrying him another few inches before he managed to stop completely. He flattened himself against the ground, his red color seeming too bright, too visible in the torchlight.

"See what?" the second guard asked.

"Thought I saw something move. Over by the drainage grate."

Footsteps. Coming closer.

Arin's core pulsed with what he now recognized as fear. It was the same feeling from the arena, magnified a hundred times. In the arena, losing meant dissolution. Here, it meant the same thing, but with the added weight of knowing what death truly meant.

I can't die. Not yet. Not until I've… What am I supposed to do?

The footsteps stopped a few feet away.

"Probably just a rat," the second guard said. "You know how big they get down in the sewers. Sometimes they come up through the grates."

"Yeah, maybe,” the tall man holding the torch said. “Still, thought it looked red or something."

"Red rat? You been drinking?"

A chuckle. "Might've had a bit. Long shift."

"Come on then. Let's finish the round and I'll join you."

The footsteps retreated.

Arin didn't move for a full minute, counting each second to make sure they were truly gone. Then, with careful deliberation, he flowed toward the grate.

The metal bars were spaced about four inches apart—more than enough room. Arin compressed his mass and slid through, dropping into darkness.

The fall was longer than expected, and Arin hit water with a splash that echoed through the tunnel.

Water!

Panic surged through him as he felt his mass beginning to dilute. The liquid that surrounded him wasn't pure—it was thick with waste and runoff—but it was still water, still dangerous. Arin flailed, if a slime could be said to flail, and managed to grab hold of a ledge just above the flowing channel.

He pulled himself up onto the stone walkway, feeling parts of his mass dripping away, dissolving into the water below.

[ -2 Mass ]

The words appeared in his vision, and Arin felt smaller, diminished. He'd lost perhaps five percent of his total size in those few seconds.

Water. I need to avoid water. Levi mentioned that. I should have remembered.

The sewer tunnel stretched in both directions, lit by occasional patches of bioluminescent moss that clung to the damp walls. The smell that Levi had warned about was overwhelming—not that Arin had a nose to smell with, but he could sense the decay, the rot, the concentrated essence of waste from thousands of people.

A skittering sound came from the darkness to his left.

Arin turned, his vision adjusting to pick out details in the gloom. There, perhaps twenty feet away, a pair of red eyes reflected the faint moss-light.

A rat, easily his size, emerged from a side passage. Its fur was matted and dark, its teeth yellow and sharp. It chittered, the sound bouncing off the tunnel walls, and took a step toward Arin.

Then another rat appeared. And another.

Arin counted five in total, all of them watching him with an intelligence that suggested they weren't ordinary vermin.

The largest one, a beast that probably weighed as much as Arin's current mass, took another step forward. Its lips pulled back in what might have been a snarl, revealing incisors that could easily tear through flesh.

They think I'm food.

The rat charged.

Arin's instincts took over—the same instincts that had carried him through the tournament. He formed a shield, a flat appendage that caught the rat's initial bite. Teeth sank into the gelatinous barrier and the rat immediately began to squeal, its mouth burning from the acid.

[ Acidic Trait Activated ]

But the other rats weren't waiting. They rushed forward as a pack, sensing weakness or perhaps just reacting to their companion's distress.

Arin dissolved the shield and rolled backward, narrowly avoiding snapping jaws. His mass compressed, then extended, forming a pointed wedge similar to what he'd used against the Aether Rotifer.

I'm not prey. I'm a predator now.

The wedge came down on the nearest rat's head, crushing through skull and brain with a sickening crunch. The creature went limp instantly, and Arin's mass flowed over it, beginning the process of absorption.

[ +12 Mass ] 

[ +8 Essence ]

The other rats hesitated, their pack mentality warring with their survival instincts. The largest one chittered again, a sound that might have been a command, and the remaining three spread out, trying to flank him.

They're coordinating. They're smarter than they look.

Arin didn't give them the chance to execute their strategy. He launched himself at the one on his left, his entire body transforming into a wave of red slime that crashed over the rat before it could react. Within seconds, the creature was dissolving, its squeals cut short as Arin's acidic nature took effect.

[ +10 Mass ] 

[ +6 Essence ]

The two smaller rats broke and ran, disappearing back into the side passages they'd emerged from.

The largest rat remained, its red eyes fixed on Arin. For a moment, neither moved. Then the rat bared its teeth one final time and charged, not in attack, but in a desperate bid to escape past him.

Arin let it go.

He wasn't sure why. The logical part of his mind—the part that was learning to think like Levi might have thought—knew that more mass meant more power, more essence meant more ability to survive. But something else, something deeper, told him that letting this one live was the right choice.

Is this mercy? Is this what it means to have a soul? Levi and that girl… Liora had once talked about mercy. 

He had overheard dozens of conversations, being carried everywhere in the jar Levi kept him in until the space under the bed had been made. Arin flowed back to where the two dead rats had been, collecting the last traces of his absorption. His mass had grown noticeably, and he felt stronger, more substantial.

[ Current Mass: 142% of base ] 

[ Current Essence: 32/100 ]

The numbers meant something, though Arin wasn't entirely sure what. He'd have to learn, have to figure out this "system" that now governed his existence.

But first, he needed to keep moving. The sewers were vast, and somewhere ahead was the river, was freedom, was the forest where he could hide and grow stronger.

Where he could learn what it meant to truly live.

Arin moved forward into the darkness, leaving the Flux Tower and everything he'd known behind.

Chapter 5 - The Creation of Arin

Levi’s head felt light, and his eyes were heavy. 

I won… I actually won!

Most of tonight was a blur. Levi remembered Professor Thomas looking surprised as the older man handed him a small trophy and had presented him before those gathered in the hall. 

The amount of clamoring that had taken place by all those present as representatives of potential jobs had overwhelmed him.  He had a dozen offers to consider, and each of them offered more money than he could fathom at the moment.  

Gold… actual gold… and not just a single coin but fifty gold coins a year!

The amount of money they had thrown at him as they fought with each other to get his attention had been preposterous.  The entire time his Grams and Gramps stood beside him, looking on and not saying a word during those moments with the representatives.

Finally, the night was drawn to an end and Levi knew he had drunk too much; the memory of his Grams and what she said was a little fuzzy.

“Your parents would be proud,” she said. “We’re prouder than you’ll ever know,  Levi.”

She had kissed him, her eyes watering the whole time, and his Gramps had the same problem as the older man hugged him.

Now, he was on the floor in his room, trying to understand what had happened.

“You enjoying that?” Levi asked as he looked at Arin who was in his glass container under his bed.  A whole turkey leg was being consumed by the slime that seemed giddy at the amount of food it was being fed. “You earned that… for what it’s worth… I’m glad Professor Thomas is giving me another few days with you before he makes me turn you in.”

Struggling to stand, Levi used his bed for assistance and felt the world spinning.

“Note to self, don’t drink that much… ever.”

Winching, he grabbed his head and blinked a few times.  

As Levi started to undo his belt, a soft knock sounded on the door.

Groaning, he moved to the door, undoing the lock and turning the handle.  As the door began to move, it was forced out of his hand. Three shapes raced through the open doorway and a fist connected with his jaw.

Stumbling backwards, Levi heard his door shutting and voices he recognized.

“You stole my tournament,” Dax growled, now standing over him, grabbing Levi’s shirt in a hand. “I warned you.. You should have listened.”

A fist connected with his face, and sent Levi’s head backward, smacking into the stone floor.

“Hurry up,” someone said. “Give him the beating you said you were giving and we've got to go.”

Levi blinked, trying to see through the pain, feeling blood running down his face.

“No,” Dax growled, letting go of Levi’s shirt and turning.

There in the two small lights of his room, Levi saw Havel and Bram. Both boys were glaring at him.

“What do you mean, no?” Bram asked. “You said we each would get a turn to punch him a few times. That’s why I’m here.”

Levi tried to speak, but he couldn’t; blood was running down his throat and when his tongue moved, he realized a few teeth were missing.

“What’s he saying?” Havel asked. “That he’s sorry?”

Dax laughed and shook his head, turning back to face Levi.  He pulled a knife from his belt and Levi tried to focus on the blade.

Levi’s hands came up, and the red-haired boy grabbed one, twisting Levi’s wrist and forcing it down. A knee was placed upon his chest as Dax kneeled upon him.

“You’re going to die,” Dax growled. “I can’t go back as the only one who didn’t win. You wouldn’t understand how my father ignored me. How could you? You don’t even have a dad.”

The cold metal touched his cheek and Levi felt pain as it sliced open. He tried to speak, receiving the butt of the knife against his jaw, shattering more teeth and silencing him.

“No, we can’t kill him,” Bram said. “We’ll be wanted men.”

“No we won’t,” Dax replied. “Our stories will be the same. We spent the night in my room, talking about how bad things went and how we’re hoping our parents wont be angry with us. No one will know it’s us.”

Levi tried to talk again, but no words came out. Everything was a garbled mess of words. Blood and a jaw that wasn’t working made it impossible for him to protest more than a low moan.

Pain came, and Levi grunted as the blade was plunged into his shoulder. Dax leaned close, twisting the blade and severing something that made moving his arm impossible.

“You’re nothing. A nobody,” Dax said, his green eyes cold. “You’ll die alone because no one wants you. Not even your own parents. That’s why you’ll never–”

Levi’s whole body hurt, but his left hand came across, punching Dax in the face. It wasn’t a strong punch, yet it knocked the teen off him slightly.

“Shit,” Dax cursed. “I’ve got blood on me now.”

“So we leave? Call healers?” Bram asked.

“No, you idiot,” Havel said. “We’d be jailed and beaten ourselves if not killed. There’s no way out of this now, beyond killing him. Get it over with, Dax. We need to go.”

Dax didn’t say a word, mounting Levi again and driving the knife into his other shoulder, twisting the blade and making it so that the arm no longer worked.

He wailed or tried to but the blood was choking him.

“Levi Wilson… you’re an idiot… all those book smarts,” Dax said. “What you really needed was to learn how the world worked. You would have bowed out, admitting defeat before our match ever started.” An evil grin appeared on the boy's face as he leaned close. 

“Just so you know, the tournament was rigged,” Dax whispered. “That’s what makes me me not winning even worse.”

Levi spat with every bit of force he had, sending a few teeth and blood into Dax’s face.

“Shit! You little–”

Dax didn’t say another word as the knife was plunged into Levi’s chest.  It slid off a rib and entered his lung. Without waiting another second, the ten stood and held out the knife to Bram. 

“What? You already stabbed him!” Bram protested.

“Either stab him or I’ll stab you,” Dax growled. “No one gets out of here without a turn.”

Levi watched as Havel didn’t hesitate, grabbing the knife and sticking it in his gut. 

His chest and stomach burned. Levi blinked through the tears, wanting to plead for them to stop but knew they wouldn’t. He locked eyes on Bram and saw the teen chewing his lip.  

“Now,” Dax growled.

Bram didn’t hesitate, taking the knife from Havel and stabbing Levi in the thigh.

“Pfft, what was that?” Havel asked.

“It doesn’t matter… I cut him, now let’s go,” Bram said.

“You going to finish him off?” Havel asked.

Levi felt everything getting colder and he could barely make out Dax as the boy came closer. 

“No… he’s dead soon and he can’t call for help. Let him suffer for another minute or two. We’re done.”

Pressure came across one of his legs and it felt like someone was wiping a blade off on his clothes.

Boots against stone made noise and the soft sound of his door shutting left the room quiet.

Choking and coughing, Levi tried to call out, but his lungs weren’t working, blood filling them.

Something cold and warm touched his cheek.

Turning his face toward it, Levi could barely see Arin bobbing near his face.

“Arin…” he managed to get.

I’m dying… we’re both going to…

“Eat… me,” Levi coughed.

Arin froze. The red slime didn’t move at all at the words that Levi had just spoken.

“Please… eat… me,” Levi got out, needing seconds between each word. “They’ll… kill… you. Run… Arin.”

Blinking, Levi felt a wet sensation against his cheek.  Through the fading light he could see a small tendril of slime stroking his cheek.

“Please…” he gasped once more.

Levi’s eyes bulged as Arin’s slime slid across his face and began to enter through his broken nostrils. Breathing was already almost impossible and yet the pain that came was not what Levi had expected.  His slime moved down his throat and into his lungs.  

The world went dark, and Levi said one last prayer before the last flicker of his life vanished.

Find a way to live Arin… live for us.

***

[ Soul Consumed ]

[ Analyzing Soul ]

[ Soul was a willing sacrifice for consumption ]

[ A thread of consciousness and affection detected ]

[ Modifying Status ]

[ … ]

[ … ]

[ Evolving ]

[ Sapient granted ]

[ Advanced System Access Granted ]

[ Emotions Unlocked ]

[ Will Unlocked ]

[ Learning Unlocked ]

[ Speech - Locked due to vocal limitations ]

[ Awareness Unlocked ]

[ Soul - Granted ]

[ … ]

[ … ]

[ Welcome, Arin - your creator has given you life and granted you their dying breath. ]

[ The system recognizes the bond between you and your creator. ]

[ Your slime essence has evolved. All previous traits are kept ]

[ New traits may be acquired ]

[ Special Class acquired ]

[ Say Status for information ]

A weird sensation flooded Arin’s mind being as he felt pain, remorse, sorrow, gratitude and dozens of other feelings all at the same time. He shifted, feeling his gelatinous mass move as the body of his creator and friend was almost all gone from the waist up.

Levi… I… I am Arin.

That single thought sent a pulse of power and more through his core. The fact that he now felt aware of who he was in a way more than ever before was impossible to believe. All the tasks and things that Levi had taught him seemed like nothing now compared to the way his mind seemed to work.

Do… I really have a soul? Am I really a being?

The whole room was visible from his perspective. Arin could see in every direction at the same time and a small mirror was above a basin that he had watched Levi wash in occasionally.  

Without waiting, Arin moved to the shelf and extended his body, creating a pair of tendrils that latched onto the counter and began pulling himself up.  It seemed to take longer than usual or what Arin expected it should take, but upon peering in the mirror, he began to understand why.

I’m about four times the size I was before. Did I really consume all that mass?

Glancing back at the one who had given him life, taught him how to survive, and now given him a soul, Arin felt pain of a different kind in his being.

Then another sensation welled up in his chest.

Anger. Hate. Rage. Revenge.

Those three.. They need to die…

At the same time other emotions came and fought against the torrent of fire that burned within his red slime.

No… Levi wouldn’t want that. He’d want me to find a way to survive and if I try to go and kill them now, I’ll probably die.  I need to find a way to get out of here.

His vision saw the handle on the window and he somehow knew that was the thing he needed to take care of.  With a little bit of time, Arin managed to eat away the wood around the metal and the window began to swing open. 

A cool breeze came over his gelatinous skin as the night wind blew into the room.  Above were more stars than Arin could count.  His vision also revealed that he was way up in the tower and far out below was the city.

This… is the city of Vyrdan. I remember Levi talking about it. There’s a body of water… a river.

Words that had never made sense suddenly did and all the things Arin had heard Levi talk about filled his being with what felt like lightning, like when he fought the nematode.

I need to get out of here… The forest. Levi mentioned that it was a great place to find ingredients for alchemy and that there were lots of animals and monsters out there. I should head there and see if I can’t find a way to…

The word that Arin was looking for felt weird.

Live.

The concept of living was foreign to him. For so long just eating rotten bread or meat had been everything. Learning what Levi wanted him to do had given him some sense of pleasure, but also meant he got more bread and meat.  

Yet now… what did living mean? What did Levi want him to do? How could he honor his creator and… friend?

A memory tickled Arin’s mind and he remembered the words that had seemed to appear all around him.

Status.

Chapter 4 - The Creation of Arin

Levi couldn’t help but find himself giddy, having watched the last fight take place in the semi-final.  His opponent for the semi-finals had been an easy matchup, the amoeba that had been eating up the other competition found out that Arin wasn’t an easy meal like the others.  In the end, his slime had beaten out Selene’s creation, and she had simply congratulated Levi on the win before scampering off to the stands.

“You’re always a surprise, Mr. Wilson,” Professor Thomas said as both of them watched the attendants carry out the two semi-final arenas and bring in the final one for the last match. “I’m sure you’re well aware of this, but every one of those in attendance is discussing your name and Mr. Quen’s right now. Any plans on who you might accept an offer from?”

Levi’s heart was fluttering in his chest as he tried not to stare at the dozen plus representatives of different job opportunities that would come in the next month after graduation.

“Honestly, Professor, I’m just wanting a job where I can continue learning and develop things that will help the kingdom.  All I need is enough money to provide for my grandparents and myself. After that… I don’t know what else I would need.”

A wrinkled hand patted him on the shoulder for a second. “That’s what I like about you, Mr. Wilson. You’re humble and remember how you got here. Good luck in this next matchup. I’m certain it’s going to be the hardest one yet.”

The professor strode off toward Dax, Levi’s final opponent, and stopped, having words with the silver-haired student.

Trying to ignore the silver eyes that had been staring at him, Levi lifted his jar upward, holding his slime before his face. 

“Listen, Arin, we've got one more fight left, and you’re doing great. I can see your color has changed a few times. I believe that means you’ve adapted or acquired something of those you defeated. This rotifer we’re going to be facing is… different.”

Levi had managed to watch one of Dax’s fights as it came to an end.  His creation was shaped like a clear teardrop and had a gold crown that spun around the peaked top. Dax had managed to alter the qualities Levi expected it to have. This one seemed to eat magic instead of just matter. All the other creations it had faced were nothing more than shriveled up husks when the match was over.

How do you defeat something that eats the very essence of your being?

Pondering that thought, Levi watched as they set down a ten-foot square stage that was raised about three feet off the ground.  Then the attendants brought in the final crystal arena. This one was a nine-foot cube and the only space that Levi would be able to reach was the staging door on his side.

So I can’t do what I did against Havel… this is all on Arin.

There were different-sized pillars and even a few columns that ran up to the ceiling.  None of it really mattered in this fight as Levi knew this was going to be a fight that took place when both creatures touched each other.  

“You have ten minutes before we begin the last fight of the tournament,” Professor Thomas announced. “Remember, once the tournament is over, no one but the family of the winner may come down. All those in attendance will be allowed in the grand hall to celebrate this moment and try to woo those students who have caught your eyes.”

A few chuckles echoed around the room as those seeking to acquire new workers stayed in their seats.

Levi moved to where Dax stood and held out his hand. “Good luck and congratulations on making it this far.”

A pair of silver eyes narrowed and then a half-hearted handshake took place. 

“You do realize that your journey ends here,” Dax said. “I’ve watched your slime and seen how it fights. As impressive as it is, you know what my creation does.”

“Eats magic,” Levi said. “I’d like to know how you managed to mutate the natural quality of the rotifer to one that can have that ability. Based on the research notes and studies that I found in the library, such a thing shouldn’t be possible without an extremely rare ingredient or two.”

Dax sighed before he rubbed his eyes. “Levi… you do realize that even as smart as you are, you’re an idiot.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Levi asked.

“An idiot…” Dax continued. “You know who I am and you know who my family is. Do you really not believe that they would invest that kind of money to allow me to do something like this? Winning is everything. My Grandfather won this, my Father won this, and my oldest Sister won this tournament. I stand before you ready to claim the title again and prove to everyone in this room that the Quen family name reigns supreme in the metallurgy and alchemical department. You’re merely the last bump in the road before I enter the city as the victor of this tournament.”

A pit grew in Levi’s stomach as he knew the truth of those words. There was an entire wall filled with hundreds of paintings of past winners of this tournament and the Quen family was considered a shoo-in this year.  Part of Levi had hoped that someone would manage to take out Dax’s creation early on, yet it appeared that each matchup fit perfectly for it to win.

Wait a minute…

“How is it you didn’t face any creations that launched ranged physical attacks?” Levi asked.

“I’m not responsible for the bracket creations,” Dax said with a smirk. “You’re not implying something like foul play, are you? That would be considered a slander to my family name and we both know how that would play out.”

Keeping his temper in check, Levi shook his head, biting his lip to stay silent.

“Good,” Dax said. “Now then, when we’re in the hall later, please wait till I’m done talking with all of the representatives who want to offer me a contract. It would be beneath you to stand there like an injured animal, licking its wounds and accepting whatever scraps I choose to turn down.”

Levi’s stomach churned, causing his chest to ache as he watched the red-haired student walk toward the side of the arena where the rotifer would begin.

It’s not fair… these… no matter how hard I try, it’s always some pompous ass like Dax or the others who seem to care where I come from.  Why can’t they be more like Liora?

Trying not to show his frustration, Levi moved toward the starting point for his creation and held the jar near his face.

“Arin… I… I don’t know what to tell you. You beat that amoeba because you were the stronger of the two creations. But this one… It’s designed to kill things like you.”

Levi watched as his red slime seemed to press downward into the jar, its shape shrinking slightly.

“Don’t be scared,” he said, tapping the jar. “You’ve done amazing. I’m so proud of you and if there’s a way to win at all, you’ll need to find out on your own.  I can’t help you. But…” Levi sat down on the platform and then placed the jar between his legs.  Lifting the lid off, he reached into his pouch and pulled out six pieces of meat. “I promised you some treats and here you go.”

Dropping them one at a time, Levi watched as the slime seemed to reach upward, gelatinous tendrils snagging each one as they fell.

His… do I really call it a boy… I mean, I gave it my Father’s name… Of course, no one here knows that and I’m not telling Grams and Gramps.

“Arin… if you can somehow pull this off… I’ll give you a whole piece of meat, not just these chunks.”

The red slime began to bounce up and down, frantically and Levi couldn’t help himself when he started to laugh.

“Calm down… if you don’t, you’ll bounce out of this jar and we’ll really be in trouble.”

Slowly, the slime settled, and Levi pulled out the last few pieces of the moldy bread he had and dropped them in the jar.”

Putting the lid back on, Levi sat there, watching the creation he had made and trained over the last few months.  So many parts of it had been challenging moments, learning to encourage Arin to do what Levi wanted it to do.  

Running his hands through his mop of brown hair, Levi stood and waved at his grandparents, putting on the best smile he could.

Mom… dad… if you’re watching… I could use a little help.

Levi jogged up the stairs to where his grandparents had been allowed to descend for just a moment.

“We’re so proud of you, Levi,” Grams said. “No matter what happens, you’ve done more than everyone else here.”

“But winning would still be nice,” Gramps said, winking at Levi.

“I’m going to do my best… but all that matters is I can get a job and take care of you two. I owe both of you that,” Levi stated.

“Bah, you don’t owe us anything, son,” his grandfather said. “We’re proud of the man you’ve become. Still, if you do get a good job, I’d love some new shoes.”

Levi rolled his eyes, knowing that what his grandparents were wearing was borrowed. Even then, the outfits they wore were muted browns and blacks, crafted from lesser-quality materials and nowhere near what almost everyone else present wore.

“Maybe I’ll make enough to get you two pairs,” Levi replied.

***

Levi bit his lip so hard that blood seeped out.

The golden crown that sat around the rotifer spun again, sending out a wave of energy that assaulted the small blob of slime that Arin had broken off from its body.  As the attack from Dax’s creation struck the glob of slime, it began to pull the piece toward it.  Once it got next to it, the piece vanished completely, not a single trace of the sacrificed section around.

Cheers and applause came from the onlookers as Dax stood beside the arena, his chest out and a smile that said he had already won.

“You can do it,” Lefi said. “Keep trying to find a solution!” He wasn’t sure if Arin could hear what he was saying over the sound of the crowd. Levi was just grateful that his creation had been able to release a small section the first time the rotifer’s attack had struck, sacrificing a tenth of its mass to escape the pull.

Now Arin was leaving small pieces of itself behind, creating a trail of its body that moved from the center of the arena to the edge. The red slime weaved a trail around the pillars. Due to the amount of time it took for the Aether Rotifer to begin its attack on each piece, Arin had managed to set six globs down in a simple trail.  It reached the corner of the arena and moved ahead some, depositing another drop and then moved back to the edge, where a piece had been dropped near a pillar.

What are you doing?

Levi watched as his slime climbed up the seven-foot-tall pillar.

The crowd began to laugh as the slime appeared to be fleeing from a foe it appeared to realize it couldn’t beat.

“Seriously?” Dax asked. “Is your creation as cowardly as you are?”

Levi ignored the taunt and the laughter from some of the other students who were still watching. He could feel the stares of those he had beaten and wondered if there was any way Havel’s creation could have beaten Selene’s. 

Every matchup appears to have been carefully considered and weighed. There’s no way a physical attack-based creation could make it past something like mine or Selene’s.. This whole tournament feels like a setup for Dax to get a painting of his face on the wall.

It felt like his face was just as red as his slimes, but Levi didn’t say anything, trying to figure out what Arin was doing.

Slowly, the rotifer made its way along the trail, its crown spinning up, and dragging the treat left behind by Levi’s slime.

Eventually, it reached the pillar where the red slime was hiding and turned the corner.  Arin had sacrificed more slime than usual to create that drop and as the gold crown began to spin, Levi couldn’t believe his eyes.

It appeared that Dax and the others started to notice what Arin was doing.  The red gelatinous ball started to roll toward the rotifer. As it did, the red slime moved to the side of its opponent, clinging to the edge of the pillar.  

Arin’s body began to transform, and Levi wanted to shout for joy as he watched the slime practice something he had tried to teach it hundreds of times.

The red slime formed a point; its body began to shrink as it compressed itself.  

“Hurry,” Levi whispered, his eyes darting between his creation and the ball of slime almost to the rotifer.

Arin’s grasp on the pillar vanished; a thick red wedge, almost like the horn on a blacksmith's anvil, fell downward. A crunching sound came as the wide tip connected with the spinning crown, and the rotifer made a loud screeching sound as the gold piece bounced loose, clattering along the floor.

Arin’s mass tumbled to the side and it took a moment for both creations to start moving.

No sounds came from anyone in the stands or on the floor where the arena.

The rotifer was lying on its side, the clear teardrop body looked to be slightly cracked and was trying to right itself.

Arin’s shape transformed as it drew close to Dax’s creation. A thick, blunt piece, similar to the tooth that Havel’s creation had used, appeared. Over and over, the section slammed down onto the struggling rotifer, and after about the eighth time, a large crack appeared.

Six more strikes were all it took before the tear shattered and a ball the size of a marble rolled free, white light erupting from it.

“No!” Dax shouted, banging his fist against the wall of the arena. “Don’t do it!”

Levi wanted to laugh, yet a part of him was caught off guard as Arin’s wedge paused above the glowing orb. Then it raised the wedge higher, getting thicker, and came down upon the glowing piece.

A thunderous boom echoed around the room, and a flash of light blinded Levi.  He blinked over and over, seeing nothing but spots as he tried to see what had happened.

There in the arena was Arin, half of its body missing. Under it was Dax’s experiment, the light gone from its body. It slowly began to dissolve inside the red slime, which, once done consuming its fallen foe, bounced slowly toward Levi.

“The… uh… winner, Levi Wilson!” Professor Thomas shouted.

Levi didn’t care that only ten percent of those gathered clapped and cheered for him. 

Whatever just happened… Arin’s not just a normal slime.

Chapter 3 - The Creation of Arin

“Well, well, look whose still in this,” Havel said, almost sneering as he arrived at the larger crystal arena that had been brought in. “The Academy’s favorite nobody. Tell me, Levi, ready to lose?”

Levi ignored the taunt from the blond-haired, blue-eyed golden child of the Radiant Order. He was everything one could hope to be or look like when sponsored by one of the prominent groups affiliated with the church.  His muscles and intellect weren’t just for show, as Levi had often considered Havel to be one of the smarter students in this tower.

“If I lose, so be it,” Levi replied. “The only difference is I’ll still be me, and you’ll still be a pompous ass.”

A chuckle came from Havel as he rolled his eyes. “You and those petty words… I’d have believed you’d rise above those by now, but then again, without any real physical aptitude, you’re stuck using insults as your only weapons.”

It was true that Levi was not known for his physical prowess. If two broomsticks got together and had a child, he would be their offspring, as his legs and arms didn’t carry much meat at all. Anything he ate was somehow never able to add mass.  Then again, the sheer amount of time Levi spent in the labs or in the library poring over books and doing research didn’t help his current physical state.

Tired of the insults as the other students gathered around their four-foot cubes, Levi studied the newest addition to the arena. Inside the area, their creations would fight were four, four-inch wide columns that rose halfway up the fighting area.

Professor Thomas had mentioned that things would change after the third round. I guess this is a new addition. Makes me wonder what the final two rounds will hold.

“You’ll have to be smart here, Arin,” Levi whispered to his slime. “Remember the training we did with the mazes.”

“Oh my gosh!” exclaimed Havel. “You did name it?! I heard that you did, but I thought Bram was just being a sore loser. You realize that this is nothing more than a test, don't you? Even if you somehow won this tournament, Professor Thomas is going to destroy every creation.”

Sighing, Levi shrugged. “Does it matter if I named it? I’ve already heard about what you have, and you’re one of the few, I believe actually helped make their own creation.”

A scowl marred the otherwise handsome face as Havel glared at him. “I’m not like others, and I don’t take shortcuts. It is why I’m going to win this whole tournament. How can I fail when the head of our order is present to watch my victory?”

Levi had already noticed the middle-aged man who wore an ornate robe with the hawks and sunhound emblems decorating his collar.  A shaved head that glistened in the room's light was easy to spot, especially when there were six other members of the Radiant Order, all wearing the same white and red robes, standing next to each other in the stands.

“Well, good luck,” Levi said. “I’m looking forward to seeing your creation and how Arin handles it.”

A groan came from Havel, but the boy said nothing else, moving to stand beside the staging area and taking a six-inch gold sphere from a pouch, twisting it and depositing his creation on the crystal area. It looked like a clear coin, almost as if made of living glass, with two plates that surrounded some ribs and a geometric shape pressed inside.  Levi saw what appeared to be a golden pulse of some liquid in the very middle of the creature, and the two plates began to spin slowly in opposite directions.

“Is that a Radiolumen Diatom?” Levi asked.

Havel scoffed but nodded. “Seems you do study all those books after all. Then you’re aware of what it does?”

“I guess we’ll see if I am,” Levi replied, dumping his slime into the staging box on his side.

“You two ready?” Abigail asked.

“I am,” Levi said, smiling at her.

“As am I,” Havel stated.

She nodded and motioned to Professor Thomas, who checked in with the other three groups. “The quarterfinals will commence in thirty seconds,” he said. “After this we’ll take a quick break and prepare for the semi-finals.”

Levi could sense the energy in the room as everyone in the stands paid closer attention to the fights that would be taking place below.  Part of him was sad that he couldn’t watch the other fights, as he wanted to learn and see how their creations performed against others.

The bell sounded, and the protective doors opened for the two creations to move.

Levi’s red slime rolled out, staying behind the pillar that was about six inches outside its entrance.  Havel’s Radiolumen Diatom began rotating faster, gliding across the crystal floor, leaving its staging area as well.

As the pair of creatures emerged from behind their respective pillars, Havel’s diatom chimed, then suddenly stopped spinning for a second. A tooth-like object flew out of the two plates. The projectile tore through the exposed section of slime, sending a spray of Arin’s body against the crystal wall.

Levi hissed as his creation retracted behind the pillar, attempting to move the other way, and found a second projectile removing another section of slime.

“This isn’t going to go well for your pet,” Havel said. “Want to bet how fast mine kills yours?”

Ignoring the other boy, Levi bent lower to the crystal glass. “Adapt, Arin. Figure out what you can do. Don’t let it pick you apart.”

“Seriously? You think it can listen and change?” Havel scoffed. “Their mindless creations with limited instinctual programming. None of these things is more than simple alchemic and magical creatures. They don’t have souls or feelings.”

Levi almost said something, but stopped himself, trying to think about how he could help Arin while obeying the rules of the tournament.

As he considered options, the diatom began to move, sliding across the arena floor, seemingly searching for angles to continue its assault on the slime.

Arin shifted when another chime came, followed by a tooth that glanced off the pillar from a different direction and ricocheted into one of the walls. The red slime adjusted, and Levi watched, trying to see what it might do to help close the distance without exposing itself.

Havel chuckled as his creation moved back the other way, keeping the advantage of the distance.  As it moved, another tooth was sent flying and it bounced off the wall behind the red slime, this time striking the gelatinous body from the back, burying itself inside but not hitting with enough force to damage it.

“How much help can I offer?” Levi asked the attendant. 

“As long as you don’t put anything in the crystal arena, you’re able to talk, move around, tap on the outside or whatever you desire,” Abigail replied. “Basically, you’re able to do anything that doesn’t directly physically affect the two creations inside.”

Nodding, Levi pulled out a piece of moldy bread and then took a second one, setting both on top of the crystal cube right above one of the pillars. “Arin… treat,” he said, tapping the roof of the arena. “Come and get it.”

“You really think that…” Havel went silent as the red slime began to wrap its body around the pillar, slowly climbing upward toward the bread on the outside of the cube. “That’s cheating!”

“Actually, it isn’t,” Abigail replied. “He’s not putting anything inside the box nor touching the creations. You could do the same if you desired.”

“But… how…” A grunt came from the Radiant Order’s chosen student in this class, his face turning red. “What is that going to do? Hide on top of the pillar? You know–”

“Shut it,” Levi snapped. “Deal with your own creation and let me handle mine!”

Ignoring the blond-headed student, Levi turned his attention to his slime. It had now reached the top of the pillar and was almost bouncing as it tried to get the food a good foot away and on the other side of the crystal.

A tooth was sent flying by the diatom and yet it couldn’t go any higher than six inches off the floor, not a threat at the moment to the slime at all.

“Ok, Arin,” Levi said gently. “Remember the training. Reach the bread. Stick to the ceiling. You do this and I’ll give you four pieces of bread when this is over.”

The slime began to bounce faster, almost appearing excited as its body flowed up and down the pillar occasionally, before it suddenly threw a tendril of slime upward at the ceiling. The inch-thick strand stuck and then more of the slime began to flow up toward the area right under the bread.  In less than ten seconds, the entire body of Arin was now hanging from the ceiling.

“How… how can it do that?” Havel asked, eyes widening.

A sigh came from behind the boy, and Levi looked up to see Professor Thomas smiling, one of his hands stroking his beard. “That comes from training and practice, Mr. Deren. If you recall, I mentioned this almost two months ago during our lecture on creations and the ability to teach them things. Out of all the students in that lecture hall, only Mr. Wilson here asked questions on how to do such a thing.”

“But… they’re mindless things,” Havel protested.

“Ignore him,” Levi said, a massive smile plastered on his face. “Now then, Arin, follow the bread.” Slowly, he slid the moldy substance across the roof of the crystal arena, guiding his slime toward the diatom, which had halted its rotation and was no longer moving along the arena floor.

“Do something!” Havel shouted, smacking the crystal wall with his fist. “Don’t just sit there!”

“It can’t detect its enemy,” Professor Thomas stated before he turned and moved toward another one of the fights. “Your creation is deadly in a straightforward match, but I’m afraid you’re about to see why many people, creatures, animals, and even monsters can lose to someone smarter than their limited focus.”

“But…”

Levi ignored his opponent’s protest as he continued sliding the bread until it was on top of the area where the diatom was.

Havel reached out his hand, about to smack away the bread, when his wrist was grabbed by Abigail. 

“Do not touch that,” she stated, her voice carrying a hint of danger. “Doing so would be a surrender. You cannot touch your opponent or anything he is using for the fight.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Havel asked, his confident facade gone and a look of confusion mixed with frustration taking its place.

“You lose,” Levi said bluntly. “Now, Arin. Bucket drop and win. I’ll even toss in a piece of meat.”

When those words were spoken and Levi removed the bread from the outside of the crystal arena, the red slime detached from above, falling upon the diatom, which tried to spin and escape the splattering slime.

The Radiolumen Diatom managed to get one tooth sent from its body but the slime appeared to be compressing, slowing down the rotation until it stopped moving.  

Levi watched, his grin growing by the second as tendrils of slime reached in between the plates, making their way toward that golden light.

“No…” Havel said, his voice barely a whisper.

A few more seconds passed and then the light vanished, and bubbles began to rise from the diatom as the slime started to consume it.

“The winner, Levi Wilson,” Abigail announced.

Clapping came from the stands, and Levi smiled, waving at them. His eyes found his grandparents, who had tears in their eyes. Their hands were making the most noise as they cheered for him.

A growl came from Havel, who moved until his chest and Levi’s were almost touching. “I swear to you, you’ll pay for this.”

“Mr. Deren!” Abigail snapped. “If you are making a threat, you will find yourself wishing you hadn’t.”

“No,” Havel grunted. “Just telling him that a time will come when he’ll wish he wasn’t the know-it-all and doesn’t have any friends in real power.” With those words spoken, the blond-headed teen strode past Levi and toward the stairs.

Ignoring the sore loser, Levi moved to the staging area where the diatom had started and dropped four pieces of moldy bread and a small piece of meat from a different pouch.

Faster than the slime had moved all day, it drug its almost dissolved meal with its mass toward the open door of the staging area, making its way toward the treats it had earned.

BTtNR - Book 3 - Chapter 035

Chapter as promised! Will try to get a few more done this week!

***********
She wants me to come to her. That's the trap.

Einar extinguished the flames on his hammers, plunging himself back into darkness. He knew this opponent was going to be different from many of the others he had faced. The sudden shift from light to shadow would blind him temporarily, but it would also force Akrini to recalculate.

If I can't see her, she shouldn’t be able to see me…

Moving along the wall opposite the tunnel where she had attacked, Einar kept his steps measured and controlled. Each placement of his foot tested the ground first, ensuring no loose stones would betray his position. The chain mail the dwarves had given him was tight, preventing any rattling, but he could feel how it restricted his movement more than his usual armor.

In these tight spaces, that might actually help. Less chance of catching on to something and making noise.

The darkness felt heavy as he moved away from the central intersection. His eyes slowly adjusted again, picking out the faint differences in shadow that marked walls, corners, and openings. Behind him, he heard nothing. There was no pursuit, no movement.

She's waiting. Counting on me to make the first mistake.

Einar paused at a corner, listening. The silence was absolute, broken only by his own breathing. He drew a thin thread of wyrd through his body, sharpening his senses without flaring any visible magic. His perception increased just slightly, allowing him to hear the faint scrape of metal against stone somewhere to his left.

There.

But was it really her, or had she done something to draw him in?

Grinning in the darkness, Einar picked up three small stones. He infused the first with just enough wyrd to make it warm—not glowing, but radiating heat. Tossing it down the path to his right, away from where he'd heard the sound, he waited.

Five seconds passed.

Then ten.

A faint whistle of air was his only warning. Einar dropped flat as a throwing axe sailed over his head, clanging against the stone wall behind him. The weapon had come from where he'd thrown the stone.

She's faster than I thought. She covered that distance in silence as well.

Rolling to his feet, Einar moved left toward where the earlier sound had originated. As he rounded a corner, his lowered hammer met resistance, a thin rope stretched across the passage at shin height.

A trap.

Stepping over it carefully, he pressed forward. The tunnel here was wide enough for two dwarves to walk side by side, perhaps twelve feet across, but the ceiling dropped to only ten feet. For Akrini, that meant limited overhead movement. For him, it was still plenty of room to maneuver.

The passage opened into a chamber roughly fifteen feet across. Einar froze, analyzing the space. Four exits led from this room, each pitch black. The ceiling here was higher, maybe fourteen feet, giving more vertical space but also more shadows to hide in.

A soft chuckle echoed from somewhere ahead. "You're learning, Viking. Most would have charged in by now."

Einar didn't respond. Speaking would give away his exact position.

Instead, he infused his second stone with wyrd and threw it into the leftmost tunnel. As it clattered along the floor, he moved right, slipping into that passage while keeping his back to the wall.

The sound of heavy footsteps came from the left tunnel—Akrini had taken the bait.

Or she wants me to think she did.

He continued forward through a passage that twisted and turned, its width varying between eight and fifteen feet. The uneven nature of it meant that some sections forced him closer to the center, while others allowed him to hug the walls. After thirty feet, it opened into another intersection. This one had five paths radiating outward, and in the center was a raised stone platform about four feet high.

If I get near that, she’d have the high ground. She'd have even more of a reach advantage from up there.

Einar studied the platform, noting how the paths all provided clear approaches to it. Anyone standing on it would be exposed from multiple angles, but a dwarf of Akrini's size would dominate the space, her hammer able to sweep across any approach.

A scraping sound came from behind him.

Einar spun, both hammers rising, but nothing emerged from the darkness. He took a step back toward the platform, then another.

His foot came down on loose stones.

The grinding sound echoed through the chamber as dozens of pebbles shifted beneath his weight. Einar lunged forward, diving away from the noise just as a massive shape exploded from the rightmost tunnel.

Akrini's hammer flew through the air where he'd been standing. The weapon was enormous, easily five feet of solid metal and wood, and she wielded it one-handed as she charged. At nine and a half feet tall, the female dwarf was a mountain of muscle and armor bearing down on him.

Einar rolled, coming up in a crouch as the dwarf's second swing moved through the spot he'd just vacated. Her follow-through was perfect, using the momentum to spin into a third strike that would have caught him if he hadn't scrambled backward.

"There you are!" Akrini roared, her grin visible even in the dim light as she pressed her advantage.

The space gave her room to move freely. Einar couldn't rely on the environment to restrict her strikes like he'd hoped. He parried the next attack with both hammers, the impact sending vibrations up his arms.

She's stronger than me by a fair amount. I can't trade blows.

Akrini advanced, her hammer rising for another strike. The ceiling here was just high enough that she could use overhead attacks, though not with full extension. Einar waited until the last moment, then dove and rolled to his left, coming up near one of the tunnel entrances.

The Captain's hammer crashed into the stone floor, sending chips flying. She pivoted smoothly, cutting off his escape into that passage. Her reach and speed were forcing him to give ground.

"You're fast, Viking," Akrini said, stalking forward. "But speed alone won't win this."

Einar backed into the tunnel entrance. This one was narrower. It was only about eight feet wide, and the ceiling dropped to eleven feet. Still, there was plenty of room for Akrini, but it limited her somewhat.

He struck at her leading knee as she entered, both hammers aimed at the joint. The weapons bounced off her armor with dull thuds, but the impact made her shift her stance.

Akrini's counter swing forced him deeper into the tunnel. The confined space meant he couldn't dodge to the sides as easily. He backpedaled, keeping his hammers up defensively.

"Good try," Akrini said, following him into the passage. "But you'll need more than that."

The tunnel twisted sharply to the right. Einar took the turn at a run, his mind racing for any advantage. Behind him, Akrini's footsteps thundered against stone.

Twenty feet ahead, he spotted another rope trap. Instead of avoiding it, he stepped over it and kept going another thirty feet before stopping at a junction where three paths met.

Drawing wyrd into his final stone, he made it glow with soft firelight and wedged it into a crack in the wall at shoulder height. Then he pressed himself into a shadowed alcove just around the corner of the left passage, hammers ready.

Akrini's heavy footsteps approached. He could hear her breathing now, controlled but measured.

"Leaving me a light?" she called out. "How thoughtful!"

She rounded the corner into the junction, her silhouette visible against the glowing stone. Her hammer was raised, ready for an ambush, but she was scanning the wrong direction—toward the straight path ahead.

What she didn't see was the rope trap.

Her foot caught the line and Akrini stumbled. It wasn't much—a dwarf's balance was legendary—but it was enough. In that half-second of distraction, Einar emerged from his hiding spot and struck.

Both hammers targeted her weapon arm at the elbow joint where the armor plates met. The impacts landed solidly, and Akrini's grip on her hammer loosened for just a moment.

Einar didn't try to disarm her. Instead, he seized the opportunity that arose when she tried to recover. He swept low, striking at the back of her knee with his right hammer while his left came up toward her ribs.

The dwarf grunted and her leg buckled slightly. Her hammer swung up in a vicious arc that would have caught Einar's head if he hadn't already been moving backward into the left passage.

"Clever!" Akrini growled, straightening up. "Using my own traps against me!"

She advanced more cautiously now, testing each step. The passage here was only seven feet wide, forcing her to angle her shoulders slightly as she moved. Einar backed away, drawing her deeper into the narrower section.

I can't keep this up forever. She'll wear me down.

The passage ahead opened into another chamber. Einar burst into it, his eyes quickly getting a read on the space. It was roughly oval-shaped, maybe eighteen feet at its widest point, with four tunnel exits. The ceiling here varied wildly—twelve feet in some places, higher in others where the natural cave formation created pockets.

Those height differences...

Akrini emerged from the tunnel seconds later, cautious as before. She stayed near the entrance, hammer held defensively.

"No more running?" she asked.

"No more running," Einar agreed.

They circled each other slowly. Einar's mind worked through possibilities, calculating angles and distances. The uneven ceiling meant Akrini would have to be aware of where she could fully extend her strikes. The multiple exits meant either of them could retreat if pressed too hard.

But she won't retreat. This is a test of will as much as skill.

Akrini feinted left and struck right, her hammer whistling toward Einar's ribs. He parried with his left hammer while striking at her extended wrist with his right. The exchange lasted seconds. Both of them attacked, countered, parried and attacked again, finally separating to reevaluate the moment.

Again and again, they clashed, each one managing to get in a small glancing blow, taking whatever opening the other gave.  Neither could land the finishing one, and the sound of their onslaught was like a dozen drums being beaten nonstop.

Minutes passed, and finally they both withdrew again. Blood roared in Einar's ears. His arms could still feel the vibrations from blocking her strikes, and he could feel bruises forming across his body despite the protective bracelet.

"You're good," Akrini admitted, breathing heavily. "Better than I expected."

"You're not bad yourself," Einar replied with a grin. "For a dwarf."

She laughed, a deep, genuine sound. "I'm going to enjoy this last part."

Akrini charged. Not recklessly, but with purpose and control. Her hammer became a blur of motion—high strikes where the ceiling allowed, low sweeps that forced Einar to jump, side swings that made him give ground. He blocked what he could, dodged what he couldn't, and felt himself being backed toward one of the tunnel entrances.

This one was different—only six feet wide and with a ceiling that dropped to just nine feet. For Akrini, it would be restrictive.

This is it. If I don't do something now, she wins.

Einar let himself be pressed back until he was at the tunnel mouth. Akrini's grin widened as she wound up for a finishing blow, but she had to adjust her grip slightly as she calculated the lower ceiling behind him.

At that instant of adjustment, Einar dropped and rolled forward, directly between her legs. At her height, there was just enough clearance. As he came up behind her, he drew deeply on his wyrd, not wanting to ignite or electrocute her, but to enhance his strength for just a few seconds.

Both hammers struck the back of Akrini's knees simultaneously with everything he had.

The dwarf's legs buckled. She caught herself with her free hand against the tunnel entrance, but her hammer lowered for just a second as she stabilized.

Einar moved. Three rapid strikes followed. He struck her left shoulder blade, right shoulder blade, and then the base of the neck where her helmet met the armor. The protective runes on both their equipment flared, preventing serious injury, but the impacts were solid and precise.

Akrini dropped to one knee, her hammer falling from suddenly nerveless fingers as the runes on their bracelets pulsed brightly.

Silence filled the chamber.

Then Akrini's laughter echoed off the walls. She pushed herself upright, turning to face Einar with a grin that split her bearded face.

"Well struck, Viking! Well struck indeed!"

Above them, Einar heard the roar of dwarven voices fill the training hall, a mix of cheers and groans as bets were settled.

Akrini offered her gauntleted hand, and Einar clasped it; both of them were breathing harder than he had expected.

"You fight smart," she said, respect clear in her voice. "Used every advantage you had. The traps, the narrow spaces, even my height against me in that last moment. That's the mark of a true warrior."

"You had me on the defensive the whole time," Einar admitted. "Another minute and I would have been done."

"Perhaps. But you didn't give me that minute." Akrini replied, releasing his hand and bending to retrieve her hammer. "Thor was right about you, Einar Sibbison. The Vikings are not weak, not if they have warriors like you leading them."

As they made their way out of the fighting pit, climbing the stairs to where Einar's pack waited, he caught Thorodd's expression, a mixture of pride and relief.

"How much did you lose?" Einar asked quietly.

"Three silver," Thorodd muttered. "But it was worth every copper to watch you pull that off."

Skardi was grinning ear to ear, his massive hand thumping Einar's shoulder hard enough almost to make him stumble. "The way you rolled between her legs at the end! I thought for certain she had you trapped!"

Akrini removed her bracelet and handed it to one of her guards before turning to address the gathered dwarves and Vikings.

"Let it be known that Einar Sibbison has proven himself in the arena! Any dwarf who doubts Viking strength has only to look at what we witnessed here today!"

The dwarves cheered, their voices echoing through the massive training hall.

Yulgas approached, his weathered face showing approval. "You did well, son of Odin. Very well indeed. Come, there is much to discuss about the goblin raids, and after that display, I believe my people will listen to your counsel with more open minds."

As they walked, Einar caught Akrini's eye. The Captain of the Guard nodded once, a warrior's acknowledgment of respect earned. He returned it with a smile and a slight prayer.

Odin… Thor… I owe you more than I can ever repay. Thank you.

With one more small battle won, Einar knew that the real fight lay ahead.

Uploading fun - Chapters till end of Months!

I love uploading on Patreon.

So UL1 - Book 11 is scheduled out 7 days a week till the end of the month.

Loopbreaker 2 is scheduled till Dec 3rd atm 7 days a week.

Viking is getting one in just a minute and hopefully a few more this month.

Enjoy your weekend!

Patreon - Book 2 Loopbreaker - Chapter 5 went out early... spoilers if you read

So book 2 of loopbreaker went out early... i love how that happens... so don't read or spoilers..

UL1 - Book 11 - Chapter 075 -

Max smiled as he watched Lanyra, Queen of Sunreach, glow for a moment.

“I am honored,” she said after catching her breath, still kneeling before him.

“No, my wife and I are honored,” Max replied, holding out a hand and helping her to rise. “You and Edward have been the Kings and Queens we have both hoped for. Our people thrive… Your people thrive. Everywhere in this city they understand justice and order. Now, perhaps that little one that you have growing inside you will enjoy the blessing of two bloodlines as well.”

Edward came to stand beside his wife, finally looking like a king and less of a young man.  A hundred years had aged him but not in the way most who have lived this long might. Only a few small flecks of silver were in his brown hair. His wife, Lanrya had none and would most likely still have to wait at least five hundred more years before she started to show any.

The King of Sunreach had filled out, looking like a warrior, with thick arms, chest, and legs, yet it was the light and wisdom behind his brown eyes that spoke volumes of what the man had learned. For a hundred years he had ruled beside his wife and ushered in an era of prosperity that caused the other royalty from the different kingdoms come each month, discussing how to best rule.

“Thank you again for entrusting us with this task,” Edward said, slipping his hand around his wife’s waist. “And thank you for granting both her and our child this blessing.”

Tanila began to smile and Max knew what was on her mind.

“Lanyra, care to join me for a moment?” Tanila asked, holding out her hand.

“I would be honored as always to spend time with you, Mother,” the queen replied.

Edward leaned over and kissed his wife on the cheek, ignoring how she playfully protested.

After the pair had moved to the balcony that overlooked the capital, Max turned his attention back to the man tasked with the impossible.

“Are we ready for next week?” Max asked.

“Everything is in place. The entire city will be there, including the countryside,” Edward replied. “Those guards who were unlucky and are forced to man the walls will be greatly disappointed. Stil,l I cannot believe the child I watched grow up is about to finish the tower.”  Edward shook his head and chuckled for a moment. “Forget that, I can believe she is about to do such a thing. I lost count a long time ago about the number of times Miranna kicked my rear when we dueled.”

Sighing, Max nodded, rubbing his chin a few times. “How do you like the beard? It looks good on you… gives you some… character… age?’

“I like it,” Edward replied, grinning. “My wife… she isn’t a fan and occasionally jokes that she didn’t marry a dwarf. Still, as you have said, many see it as a sign of wisdom and age. Perhaps one day I will shave it off and try something different. But let me ask you a serious question. How are you and your wife handling this upcoming moment?”

Max slowly turned and studied the two elves, each of them sitting at the small table, looking out and discussing the current things taking place in the capital.

“We’re both struggling in our own ways,” Max replied. “I’ve given her all the rings I could acquire so that we can communicate when possible. She’s received all the training and knowledge about what comes next. I guess…” He paused, feeling his lips clenching and unclenching as he looked for the words to say. “Watching my child grow up, knowing the young woman she is and what she is capable of creates a little conflict within my heart. Knowing that my wife is just as nervous about it as I am helps me not to feel so bad about the pain in my heart.”

“And yet, as you have told me many times, we must allow each child of ours to choose their own path,” Edward replied. “At least you know she has chosen this path for herself.”

Max nodded. He had asked that question a hundred times at least.

I do not say this often, but this one truly was the best choice for your bloodline. He shall be a great loss when he finally passes away in a few hundred years.

Thank you, Bob. I appreciate that.

“Miranna chose a path she felt she had to take… often I had wished she wouldn’t, but I never doubted that she would try and surpass her mother and me,” Max said. “When her first group fell… I wasn’t sure if she would ever break free of the pain and doubt that lingers there. Seeing her now thought, with her new group and what they have become, leaves no doubt that this is the path she desired.”

Edward’s hand ended up on Max’s shoulder and the King squeezed it. “She came to me a few days ago and spoke with Lanyra and me. Miranna spent some time questioning us about what to look for in someone to care for her people. Unlike many, she didn’t say rule or lord over. Like her parents, she has a heart for others but is also a fierce warrior who defends those before her.”

“Yet her heart isn’t as soft as mine,” Max replied. “Which isn’t a bad thing.”

The king chuckled and shook his head. “No, that is a good thing. Though you have changed. While some might think becoming hard is bad, you were a little too kind. It is like Sog. Sharazael told me of what he did for his people. He gave them once chance, accepting the blame for a situation he created. Many times that moment has been brought up in our discussions and she said that was the moment she knew Sog was a worthy god.”

Edward moved slightly, getting into Max’s vision. “You are a god worthy of emanating. While I do not understand nor know everything that you and the others do, there is no doubt that you risk so much to keep us all safe. I cannot imagine the sleepless nights you would have if you required sleep.” 

Max smiled and nodded slowly.

“Do not brush what I say away so easily,” Edward said, his brown eyes fixed upon Max. “Cordellia’s people suffered for the last fifty years. Even now the weed that had taken hold occasionally crops up. But now she has allowed Naelith to do what any ruler must do. Rule. You didn’t hold myself or my wife back. Both you and Tanila gave us the freedom to carry out what you desired. When some… wayward individuals thought for a moment that they could take advantage of others, you didn’t step in. I handled it in my way, listening to the advice of my wife and the few who I trust with my ear. Since then there has been very little in the way of petty crime or any other problems in those areas.”

Edward turned and motioned to the city below with his hand. “You don’t just see us as a way of getting stronger. You, Max, see us as family.”

Sniffing once, Max held back the wall of emotions that were already present, knowing that when the day came for his daughter and the rest to leave, there would be very little he could do to stop the deluge.

“Thank you,” Max replied. “For everything. Our friendship, your words, and for loving on our people.”

Edward nodded and motioned with his head to their wives. “Come, let us join them before we end up signed up for something we didn’t get a say in.”

Laughing, Max clapped Edward on the back. “You’ve grown so much wiser than I could have imagined.”

***

Max twisted, his sword coming up, blocking the sword Sabon sent his way. His shield replaced his other weapon, stopping the massive ice spear that Agluur had sent toward him.

Miranna came from behind, her weapon a blur as she attacked.

You’re having to work harder than usual.

Bob teased a little, summoning a wall of air, which stopped the blade that would have struck.

A shadow fell over his head from above, its talons aimed at his upper body.

Max unleashed a barrage of strikes, forcing Sabon to protect himself with his shield. Putting their warrior between him and Shale Spark, Max made the dragon pull up, unable to claw him, but her tail came around, sweeping sideways.

During all this, his daughter didn’t let up, always on his back side, forcing him to deal with her and the aura she had, taking damage with each attack he sent toward her.

Outside the city, the ground they were fighting on was burnt, marred and had furrows from the training they were doing.

Agluur, the demon mage of Miranna’s party, sent dozens of attempts at his feet, stone and ice traps all trying to hold him in place. Anytime Max tried to get to their dwarven healer, Kurrar, Miranna, or Shale Spark drove him back.

Unable to help himself, Max smiled, already fighting above the level he should be using, knowing that they were in many ways a better team than his own party had been.

“Enough!” Rakonath called out. “You win!”

Without waiting, the five disengaged, leaving Max where he stood, shaking his head.

“We didn’t land a killing blow, though,” Sabon grunted.

“And yet, each of of here knows that you should have minutes ago,” Rakonath replied. “Surely you can tell that Max is cheating, forcing you all to push past what you might encounter in the tower.”

“Dad always cheats,” Miranna echoed. “He has since the day we first sparred.

“Please, Star, I didn’t cheat every time,” Max replied, winking. “Still, Rakonath is right. You five are a testament to how a party should work together. I can count the number of times on one hand when you needed to call out what was required. That is a testament to how well you know each other and trust one another.”

Laughter came from Fowl, who was moving toward Kurrar. “You do your people well, young one. Know that our crafters will fashion a statue of you that will be the first of many to come. Each one will be a tribute to those who have done what you have.”

Their dwarven healer’s cheeks reddened and he almost tripped when Agluur gave him a gentle shove. 

“Don’t mind him,” Shale Spark said, transforming into her humanoid form. “He’s the kind one in the group. The rest of us are all a bunch of jerks.”

“Too much time with Uncle Fowl,” Miranna stated.

Laughter from the other gods came as a playful scowl appeared on the dwarven god’s lips.

“That’s enough,” Tanila said, holding up a hand. “We have a table with refreshments, and each of you knows what is coming tomorrow.”

Max smiled, hearing the slight tremor in his wife’s voice at the last work.

Grins were present on all of Mirinna’s party members, but the truth was, Max could see the way their eyes tightened. Each of them knew what was about to happen and how difficult the next fight would be.

It seems strange that the system so easily allows one to read a book that is casually left behind, but I still can’t utter the words about the fight.

Part of me still laughs that you had thought what you had figured out was something unique and that no one else knew about it. The look on Phaius and Ockrim was priceless.

Ignoring Bob’s teasing, Max moved to where his daughter had gone, Miranna and Tanila standing slightly off the side of the others, waiting for him.

“We’re proud of you, Star,” Tanila said softly. “So very proud.”

Max watched as his wife’s hand trembled slightly when she cupped their daughter's cheek in her hand for a moment.

“I know, Mom,” Miranna said. Her voice was steady, and her gaze was firm. 

She’s grown so much. Changed really. Part of each of these gods is present in this one.

Which is the scary thing. Who knows what will come in the next few thousand years.

Max held back the emotions that wanted to be set free. 

Tomorrow would come, he would say goodbye for three hundred years, knowing that while it seemed like eternity, the truth was it would be gone before he knew it.

Monday fun - Loopbreaker Book 2 Starts

Today I wrote the chapter I've been waiting for a long time for Loopbreaker. Now you just need to wait for chapter 22 ;)

The good news is chapter 1 stars on monday.

Don't worry Viking fans. I'm working on your chapter this weekend!

The only bad thing about writing is I have to upload the chapters hoping I don't mess up or patreon doesn't screw something up ;)

Enjoy the weekend!

UL1 - Book 11 - Chapter 074 -

Max blinked, his eyelids having reformed, and the sensation of skin and nerves returning.

A slew of notifications were waiting for him to look at but instead, Bob’s voice called out first.

We did it.

You did it. 

No, Max, we did. I… feel different. Connected in a way I have never believed possible. That is because of you. Thank you.

Rising from the slush, Max saw that he was once again wearing all of his armor.

Thank you for that.

We don’t want to show everyone out there what you look like without armor. Tanila might not be happy about that.

Laughing, Max turned and stared at the body beside him.  All that was left were some smoldering bones, steaming in the slurry of ice and water beneath it.

“Our Winner… and a fight… like none we have seen in so long… Max Hoste!”

Giving a small wave, Max smiled, unable to hold back as he waited for the white portal to appear.

Odds on us getting challenged for a while?

None, I would bet on. And I’m afraid we may never get another fight again, either.

When the glowing disc appeared beneath him, Max gave his fallen foe one more glance.

“Rest well, Vyr Kjal. You were a worthy opponent,” he said.

The arena vanished and the starting room took shape around Max.  A few feet away stood a trembling shape.

“I’m okay,” Max said, smiling. “I told you I’d win.”

Jazzjak didn’t say anything, tears having created wet lines down his white face. The pink nose wiggled a few times before a paw came up and wiped away the liquid leaking from red eyes.

“You… won. I… I thought…” Jazzjak said, pausing between short breaths. “I thought we were… I was going to lose you.”

Max moved to where his helper and friend stood, knelt down and gently patted the vorpal rabbit’s arm.

“I made a promise,” Max said. “I’d win, and I’d stick around. I always try to keep my promises.”

Jazzjak sniffed and then laughed.

Summoning a handkerchief from storage, Max handed it to his friend and laughed when the rabbit blew his nose hard and long enough that Fowl would be proud.

Turning his attention to the wall that began to move, a door appeared. Max stood.

“Ahh, Max Hoste! Winner once more!” the red gelatinous shape proclaimed as it entered. 

“Hoekamona, it’s good to see you,” Max replied.

“Is that a guess… no… your voice is certain,” Hoekamona said. “How do you know it’s me?”

Shrugging, Max smiled. “Can’t I keep a few secrets? I mean, I did reveal most of the ones I didn’t want to share today.”

The creature before him began to bounce and a rumbling sound Max recognized as laughter filled the room.

“Always the surprising one!” Hoekamona said. “I tried to warn them, but the others… they didn’t believe you could win. Based upon the bets, it appeared most didn’t believe it either. Once again, you have made us very rich!”

“And what do I get from all that?” Max asked. “We both know I’m nearing the end of this run, and it doesn’t appear I’ll most likely get to fight here any time soon.”

Hoekamona’s body shifted slightly and the creature appeared to turn, saying nothing until the door that had appeared was gone, only a solid wall now remaining.

“Your problem is a common one; some like yourself face. Some grow stronger than others at a rate most cannot believe, and you would be surprised to know that sometimes, fights can still come but they do so at a cost.”

“What does that mean?” Max asked, crossing his arms.

“He’s setting a trap,” Jazzjak growled. “I’m certain I know what he’s talking about and we don’t want any part of it.”

“Bah, you say that and yet you risk nothing, helper,” Hoekamona replied. “It isn’t your decision to make; it is his, and we both know why he seeks to fight as much as he does.

“I’m right here,” Max said, snapping a finger. “Don’t talk like I’m not. What is this offer?”

The gelatinous creature turned slightly. Max could now sense that it was studying him.

“We can pick your next fight for you,” Hoekamona replied. “You wouldn’t know who or what you were fighting and they would be… stronger than the one you just faced.”

“How much stronger?” Max asked.

Laughter came from the arena attendant. “Does it matter? We both know you need a fight and I have little doubt you would turn down any offers that came your way. Even if it was another Void god.”

This almost feels like a trap.

Beyond the fact that it is most definitely a trap, the real question is what they are offering. We may have no choice depending on how things play out.  You and I both know there will come a time when we have to make a decision and it all comes down to reaching the sixth tier.

“I might be willing to take you up on that offer,” Max replied. “Is there a time limit to when I have to do so?”

Hoekamona’s whole body shook in a weird, jiggly way. “No time limit, except you cannot be above the 5th tier. Just know that we’ll want about a month's notice before the actual fight takes place.”

“That’s so they can promote it,” Jazzjak muttered. “How long has it been? Sixty thousand years?”

“About that long,” the arena attendant replied. “You remember that one, do you?”

Max watched as his friend shuddered and nodded in agreement. “Those who saw it would never forget it. That is why you offer them.”

This sounds worse than I might have imagined.

“Can I view this fight that took place?” Max asked. “That way I can decide if I want to get involved in such a thing?”

Hoekamona laughed. “You can. I will grant your helper permission to pull up that recording. Just know we’ll only give you one chance like this.”

“And what do I get for winning?” Max asked.

The red creature shifted and moved closer to Max than it had ever before. Slowly, its body stretched, and the two eye stalks that floated inside the gelatinous body rose until they were eye level with Max’s.

“Enough Divine Points to reach what I assume you are pursuing,” Hoekamona replied. “It is obvious what you are attempting to do. Few manage it. You might.”

“Are you giving odds to make it worthwhile?”

The elongated shape shook and Max tried not to react as the attendant made that gurgling noise.

“They will be worthwhile. Do not worry. We know about your friends and will do everything we can to give you and them a chance to reach your goals.”

“Max,” Jazzjak said, shaking his head once.

“Send the recording and I’ll decide,” Max replied. “For now I guess I’ll take the DP I’m owed and the world that was put up as collateral.”

“Very well,” Hoekamona replied, lowering himself and moving toward the white wall where the shape of a door began to appear. “We will be in touch. Hopefully, we’ll see you sometime soon.”

Max waited until the arena attendant was gone and the solid wall had returned before glancing at his helper.

“What am I missing?” he asked.

“I’ll fill you in when we’re back home,” Jazzjak replied. “Don’t tell the others, especially not your wife.”

“I don’t like to keep secrets,” Max said. 

“You’re not keeping a secret,” the vorpal rabbit stated, pulling out his tablet. “You’re preventing a fire from igniting in a room filled with dry straw. See what you’re getting yourself into before you take such a risk. For now, let’s get back to the others. All of them are waiting for you.”

***

Almost half a minute passed before Tanila pulled back and Max didn’t rush her.

“That was so close,” Tanila whispered. “I could almost feel the pain you were going through.”

“But Bob and I worked together,” Max replied, his eyes locked on hers. “No matter what, we’re going to make it through.”

She nodded and took a deep breath, slowly letting it out. “You say that every time, but it never gets easier.”

“That fight wasn’t easy at all,” Max teased, winking at her. “But I came out on top and you all managed to make out well from it.”

“That we did,” Fowl stated, breaking the mood.

A few chuckles came from the others as Tanila frowned at their dwarven warrior.

“Ignore him,” Batrire sighed. “He wants to hug Max just like you are doing.”

“He better not,” Max said. “That’s why I always lift him from his armpits. To keep from getting those kinds of hugs.”

All the other gods came forward, each giving Max a handshake or slap on his back, congratulating him on the success of the fight.

“So… we goin to talk about what you gained?” Fowl asked. “I tried to get Rakonath to tell me but he won't share any details.”

[ Consume has Consumed 16 Skills ]

[ 10 Skills Do not match entity type ]

[ Consume is attempting to adjust ]

[ Failed to adjust skill - Power Stored for future use ]

[ Consume has Consumed a Higher Rank Skill ]

[ Skill adjustment in process - Godhood detected - Updating skill ]

[ Harden Body has been upgraded from Legendary to God Tier 2 ]

[ Consume has Consumed a Higher Rank Skill ]

[ Skill adjustment in process - Godhood detected - Updating skill ]

[ Ice resistance has been upgraded from Rare to God Tier 2 ]

[ Consume has successfully Consumed a skill ]

[ Would you like to learn [Guaranteed Strike]? ]

[ Yes / No ]

[ Consume has Consumed a Skill ]

[ Would you like to learn [World-Eater]? ]

[ Warning: Accepting Skill Will Alter Being Type ]

[ Yes / No ]

[ Consume has Consumed a Skill ]

[ Would you like to learn [Air Freeze]? ]

[ Yes / No ]

[ Consume has Consumed a Skill ]

[ Would you like to learn [Rhime Walk]? ]

[ Yes / No ]

[ Bonus Stats Consumed ]

[ 250 Strength Consumed ]

[ 250 Dexterity Consumed ]

[ 250 Constitution Consumed ]

[ 250 Intelligence Consumed ]

[ 250 Wisdom Consumed ]

“Holy human balls,” Cordellia muttered. “That many stats gained in a single fight.”

“And those skills,” Sog added. “What kind of power can they provide?”

“You know you cannot take the World-Eater skill,” Jazzjak stated. “You don’t understand what would happen to you if you did.”

“What’s that?” Max asked.

Their helper shuddered. “Doing so would alter the very being of your body. You couldn’t live here any longer, as you would naturally start to consume the power within the world you are upon. World-eaters do not visit other worlds. It is a very lonely existence, but they are often driven by the power that such a thing grants them.”

“And why would anyone take it then?” Rakonath asked. “I mean, besides the thirst for power?”

Jazzjak shrugged. “Some races are designed to be world-eaters. I don’t know all the specifics but as you’ve seen the Void gods, they aren’t designed to be party-type beings. A Jutonn can be either, if I remember correctly. Some become world eaters, forsaking their own kind to grow in power, while others work together to create chaos across galaxies. When you reach the Archon’s you’ll all finally realize just how vast the cosmos is and how many beings there truly is.”

“Well, that makes it an easy choice,” Max replied. “Still, I can’t imagine a life built around being alone.”

We would be alone if it weren’t for your personality. I can guarantee you that the other two hosts for the black skills are more likely to take a skill like that. Even with that potential, I doubt they would, though.

Because you believe they would work with others?

Work with? No. Use is the correct term.  Command most likely has an army under its control. Devour has what you might consider livestock that they feed off of for power and growth. Unlike you, their lives are filled with one purpose unless their host can somehow keep them at bay.

Something which apparently doesn’t happen often.

Correct.

“Bob talking?” Tanila asked, poking his side.

Max nodded. “We were discussing whether the other two black skills might take World-Eater. Right now, the verdict is most likely not.”

“Well, now that I feel like Max has once again been kissed by the gods or the System, I’m going to head home and keep working on my ale for the celebration,” Fowl said.

Max winced when his dwarven friend mentioned the celebration, and both Rakonath and Sog groaned.

“That’s right!” Batrire exclaimed. “We’ve got stuff for you all to do!”

“I swear I’m going to sit on him,” Rakonath grunted. “And not in my humanoid form either.”

Book 11's Cover.

Here's book 11's cover

Book 10 of Ultimate Level 1 - Divine Creation is live

Here are a few links.

2 reddit posts - good places to find other stories as well as the link to amazon.

Thank you to everyone who supports me in this journey!

https://www.reddit.com/r/litrpg/s/ERb91vv6DF

https://www.reddit.com/r/ProgressionFantasy/s/c8LFmw7OEJ

https://a.co/d/1VTLaFU