“That’s interesting.”

  Seated across from me as I study my system menu, Solarin’s eyebrow lifts in question.

  “Oh, I unlocked another skill slot when I reached level 20.”

  He continues to stare at me with a perplexed look.

  “You know what? Don’t worry about it.”

  The NPCs might not understand, but this is good news for me. This means I can learn a new skill from the druids without saving over any of my old ones.

  “Speaking of skills, do you know if there’s anyone here who’d be willing to teach me any?”

  “Of course. Now that you’ve gained reputation in the Druid’s Circle, you may expect any druid you meet to treat you favorably, and teach you what they can.”

  Reputation? Is this similar to when I gained reputation with Heaven? I check the system and sure enough, in another bar below my reputation with Heaven and Hell, there is a second bar marked Druid’s Circle, raised a few points.

  This is interesting. It implies there will be more groups within the game that I might be able to earn reputation with, not simply Heaven and Hell. Though Heaven and Hell’s reputation is on the same scale, implying I’ll have to choose either one or the other, the Druid’s Circle bar stands on its own. Can I take that to mean gaining reputation with other groups won’t affect my standing with the druids? That would be good.

  I wonder what other groups I’ll encounter. Thieves guild? Assassins association? Wizard’s college? None of these seem like they would supplement my character’s build, but that doesn’t rule them out, necessarily. I guess I’ll just have to see what they offer.

  “I myself,” Solarin interrupts my thoughts, “would be willing to teach you some of what I know.”

  “Please,” I say eagerly. “Show me what I can learn.”

  The system menu appears before me, together with a list of Solarin’s teachable skills.

  [Barkward, Beast Totem, Gale Pulse, Moonfire Burst, Oaken Heart, Spiritwalk, Stonecall, Sun Blossom, Thornskin, Whispering Winds, Wildspeak]

  Whoa, whoa. Slow down, cowboy. Let’s sort through these a little bit.

  Eliminating spell casting and summoning, which of these skills can be used in physical combat? Looks like Barkward, Oaken Heart and Thornskin.

  [Barkward level 1: Your skin is as tough as bark.

  +15 Armor]

  [Oaken Heart level 1: You are fortified by the essence of the steadfast oak.

  +20 HP]

  [Thornskin level 1: Your skin grows prickly with thorns, damaging your enemies on contact.

  +10 Retaliation Damage]

  Hm. All of these are interesting. But which ones do I need?

  I think I can eliminate Thornskin. To level up my Essence Drain aura, I can’t do damage from any other source. Then that leaves the defender’s age old question: do I build for armor or HP?

  Both are useful to me. Of course, I’d prefer it if these numbers had a percent sign after them, but since I won’t be saving over any of my current skills, I’ll take what I can get. Anything helps.

  Let’s see now. Barkward, isn’t this kind of buff designed more for casters? I pull down the menu and examine the details.

  [Wearing any armor class higher than leather negates effectiveness by 50%.]

  Of course it’s like that. These druids really don’t like anything metal, do they? That doesn’t seem fair, when it’s technically a natural material. Just because they have to use a little fire to shape it, why should they be prejudiced? But I guess there’s no arguing with the game.

  Well, that makes it easy, at least. Oaken Heart it is.

  “Can you teach me the Oaken Heart skill?”

  “A wise choice. It will be my pleasure. Take this,” he says, and hands me a leaf that has distinct lobes with rounded ends.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “What’s this?”

  “It is the leaf of an oak tree. If you grasp it in deep meditation, you will gain the skill you seek.”

  “Wait, you mean I won’t just learn it instantly?”

  Solarin gives me a look that says he’s not mad at my question, just disappointed.

  Ugh, seriously? That’s how it worked with that guy Brickie who taught me the Aggrovating Aura skill. I just handed him the money and instantly my face irritated everyone around me. But I guess druid skills are a little different. They can’t be bought with money, and they can’t be learned so easily.

  Meditation, huh? Sounds annoying. Is it really worth it, for 20 extra HP? It’s not even a percentage…

  But then I suppose, I am still waiting on Sherbie to finish his healing training. And it would be a shame not to have anything to show for my time here.

  “Alright. I’ll do it.”

  “Good. I would like to lend you my shelter while you meditate, but it is not our way. Find a quiet place of your own, where your soul is at peace, and there meditate with the oak leaf in your grasp. When you have mastered the skill, you must bury the leaf as an offering to Anira. Then your training will be complete.”

  “Right. Well, guess I’m off then.”

  “Farewell, Brother. May blessings of the Earth rise up through your feet, and give you strength.”

  “Yeah, um. Long live the Earth goddess.”

  I’m supposed to find my own place to meditate, huh? For how long, I wonder? It’s annoying, but it certainly adds a certain sense of realism to the game. After all, it makes sense that learning a special skill would take an investment of time and concentration. I just hope it will be worth it.

  Let’s see, now. Solarin said to find a quiet, peaceful place to meditate. Guess that’s step one.

  Outside the druid’s mystical sheltered glade is bright, but not as bright as I’d thought it would be. The sky is overcast with dark clouds, and a cool breeze stirs the trees so leaves rustle all around me with a soothing static. I walk a ways till I come to a stream. Here I find a large, moss covered rock beneath a tree with the same leaves as the one I’m carrying.

  An oak. This seems appropriate.

  Setting down my shield, I climb atop the rock and attempt to seat myself cross-legged, but my armor makes this difficult. After struggling to get situated, eventually I strip myself of all my gear, and try again.

  Ah. That’s better. Without the heavy armor, I can feel the breeze through my tunic, and the light spattering of rain on my shoulders. Closing my eyes, I hold the leaf to my breastbone and take a deep breath.

  Meditate on the mighty oak. I am one with the tree. I am Oaken Heart.

  “Taking off your armor?”

  The sound of a voice in my ear startles me so bad I actually yelp in alarm and fall off my rock.

  “Is that wise, friend?”

  “What the hell?!” I jump up to spy a familiar figure lying in the air on his stomach, chin resting in his palm as he kicks his legs playfully. Seeing my expression, he laughs, a sound both melodious and grating, and definitely mocking.

  “Hahahahaha!”

  “Ari!”

  “You’ve gained the druid’s favor, and learned Oaken Heart skill.”

  “I’m learning,” I correct him, but he only smiles as a bright flash lights my vision.

  “Now you know it. No need to thank me. I’ve only saved you fifteen minutes of meditation time.”

  Right. Cool.

  “You chose wisely; Oaken Heart is the ideal skill for your character’s build.”

  “It’s only a little extra HP. I’ll learn over it when something better comes along.”

  “You mustn’t do that,” he says sharply.

  “But—”

  “Oaken Heart is step one; on its own, a very unassuming skill. But combined with another skill, and evolved, it will turn you into a monster.”

  Wait—what?

  “You must travel east along the mountains. Make for the caves of Efja, and the home of the dwarven druids. There you must seek out the ancient one. After proving yourself to her, she will offer to teach you one skill, one skill only. Listen to me carefully—you must take the Heart of Stone.”

  “Heart of Stone,” I say, committing it to memory.

  “Any other skill, tempting though it may seem, will pale in comparison to that, though it will not seem so, in the moment. Still, you must take it. Believe me.”

  “I believe you,” I say frankly, and he relaxes a little. Ari’s a pretty irritating guy, but I can’t deny he’s helped me in the past. I’ll trust him this time, too, and see where it leads me.

  “You’ve leveled up,” he observes, eyes twinkling. “And it looks like you’ve allied yourself with Heaven. Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  Sensing an insult in his words, I bristle.

  “You must have known I wouldn’t be able to kill Captain Moon in cold blood.”

  “Indeed. Though it’s a shame. Making that first pact with the devil is the easiest way to gain extra stat points.”

  “But not the only way,” I deduce from his words, and he smirks. “I never asked for the easy route.”

  “No. You chose the self-righteous moral route. Acting like you’re too good to kill when really you’ve been killing all this time.”

  “All killing is not equal. I can’t betray my conscience; not even in a game. I can’t kill in cold blood,” I say, while Ari looks down on me through half lidded eyes. His expression is stone.

  “And what do you think you were doing when you slaughtered an entire goblin civilization? When you chased down the frightened minotaur and took his life, was that not done in cold blood?”

  His words prick me.

  “You’re incredible, Chosen One. Most hypocrites go around carrying at least a modicum of shame. But you don’t even feel it.”

  I could defend myself; say I was driven mad by that week I spent in the tunnels he trapped me in. It affected me so intensely, I haven’t been the same man since I came out of them. But what’s the use? He’s probably right—but I don’t care.

  “No mercy for monsters. Goblins, minotaurs, cockatrices, I’ll slay them without batting an eye. But defenseless human beings and kittens, that’s where I draw the line.”

  Ari shakes his head in disappointment. “Beware, Revelator. Less your prejudice lead you to spare one you should not. Ruthlessness will make your game far less complicated than mercy ever will. In order to excel, you must kill without seeing! You must—”

  “Maybe if I were a god like you I could do it!” I shout at him, fed up. Silence descends, and I find myself breathing heavily for some reasons, my shoulders heaving. I look away from Ari’s lofty expression, body tense. “But I’m not. I’m just a man. And that’s all I’ll ever be.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, my friend,” he says, and for some reason I feel chills run down my spine at his words. “You are a god. The god of Aura, crafted by my own hands!”

  With a shudder, I look back over my shoulder, to glare at him from my place on the ground. “Then, they will say, that the god of Aura is merciful. For I know no other way.”