Sam rolled over onto his back and stared up at the cloudless sky. Over time, his eyes had adjusted to the too-yellow sun. Now, it looked normal, even if his life had become anything but. With a grunt, he sat upright, storing his armour.

  Siel slid down the rock wall beside him, eyes vacant as she stared off into the distance. The cliff adder corpse lay where it had fallen. A steadily growing pool of brackish orange blood pooled around it.

  With a sigh, Sam stood and retrieved his spear. He was fortunate that it had punched all the way through the beast’s head, and he was able to store it without much issue.

  “So how does loot work exactly?” he asked, returning to the cave entrance to sit next to the sylvan.

  “What do you mean?” she replied, blinking to focus on the sprawling corpse.

  “I mean, like, how do we divide this up? That's a lot of snake. I imagine it's going to be worth a decent amount in Homst. Arther—my mentor—mentioned that the scales were extremely valuable. Apparently, they're great for making armour.”

  She gave him an odd look before replying. “I suppose each culture is different, but among the Sylvanarae, the Warrior who strikes the killing blow has the first claim. From there, all shares are divided equally.”

  “Huh,” Sam responded, wondering if MMO etiquette applied here as well. “I don't really know what's valuable, so let's just store as much as we can and figure it out later.”

  “I need a moment,” she said softly, resting her head against the stone. She was still extremely pale, and Sam wondered just how far she’d pushed to keep the vines intact. The giant boar trotted over to settle in beside her, resting its snout by her hip. She laid a hand on its bristled face, storing its armour.

  Despite the healing, the boar's injuries were substantial. Puncture wounds dotted its flank, joining the remains of many older scars. Siel had managed to stop the worst of the bleeding, but the two of them were in rough shape.

  “We shouldn't stay too long,” Sam said, getting to his feet. [Battle Healing] was already making quick work of his wounds, and he felt limber enough to take a crack at the adder. “That fight wasn't exactly quiet. I don’t think we’ll have this place to ourselves for much longer. We should get out of here. Assuming you want to…” he trailed off, unsure how to continue.

  She gave him a long stare. “Yes. It would be unwise to separate at this time. We are injured and would be easy targets. There is value in numbers.”

  He gave a small nod, unable to read the nuance of her expression. While it appeared that the Sylvan shared many human facial ticks, there were clearly some subtleties he was missing.

  The reality was, their alliance made sense. Her skills complemented his straightforward fighting style, and having Molly in the mix meant he could focus more on dealing damage and less on taking it. The boar would be a wonderful distraction, if somewhat limiting in regard to stealth.

  Siel had also shown that she could be relied on in a pinch. In a world where quite literally everyone was trying to kill you, it was impossible to put a price on trust.

  He took out his knife and began the gory process of butchering the colossal snake. He didn't really know what he was doing; his only goal was to get it into pieces small enough to store in his tafla. Scales, flesh, muscle, bone, he let the system figure it out in his inventory.

  He was soon covered up the elbows in orange blood, and most of his concentration went into not vomiting all over his boots. He distracted himself as he worked by reviewing his most recent gains. The adder had netted him a whopping 1,250 spira. It was clearly some sort of area boss, at least based on its description.

  The past week had been fruitful, but even with the influx of currency, he was still technically behind his roughly 4,000 daily goal. The number was incredibly daunting, and only the Dungeons and boss fights kept it from feeling downright impossible.

  He was reaching the point where he would have to stop buying skills and begin saving for not only the Gate Toll, but also long-term upgrades. There were simply too many things he wanted to buy; he wasn't sure how he’d be able to afford them all.

  Regardless, he couldn't complain about the state of his stat sheet.

  Name: Samuel Lin

  Race: Human

  Patron: N/A

  Class: N/A

  Rank: Iron

  Titles

  [Child of Babel]

  [Deific Mark]

  [Rodent’s Resilience - Tier 5]

  [Apostate - Tier 5]

  [Giantslayer - Tier 2]

  Achievements

  [First Blood]

  [Frugal Beastslayer]

  [Frugal Usurper]

  [Skill Morph]

  [Mana Network]

  [Trailblazer]

  Enhancement Skills

  [Iron Skin - Tier 2]

  [Battle Healing - Tier 2]

  [Basic Stamina - Tier 5]

  [Kinetic Discipline - Tier 1]

  [Arcane Eyes - Tier 4]

  [Basic Mental Resistance - Tier 3]

  Martial Skills

  [Basic Shield Proficiency]

  [Simple Melee Weapon Proficiency]

  [Spear Mastery - Tier 6]

  [Longinus Strike - Tier 3]

  [Light Armour Proficiency]

  [Hammer Mastery - Tier 2]

  [Medium Armour Proficiency]

  [Spira: 6,485]

  All told, he’d made solid progress since exiting the Crypts. Arther had warned him that Warriors often saw a spike of spira the first few days, but that it tapered off as the weeks went on before skyrocketing at the end. The Arbiter preferred front-loading key achievements. Apparently, it made the War more entertaining, rather than watching the participants stumbling around with little more than basic weapons and no skills to speak of.

  Still, he was further behind than he’d like. He’d need to start pushing farther up the cliffs if he had any chance of making it to the next Ring, even more so now that he was splitting spira. The trade-off would be worth it. With a party, they’d be able to tackle larger nests of monsters–ones he had previously avoided.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  He glanced over at Siel, who was alternating between resting and using her healing skill on Mol–Mjol–Molly. He sighed internally. It was just one of those names he was never going to get. He thought it might be his imagination, but the boar looked smaller than it had during the fight. Did it also have skills that it could use in combat? He realized he didn’t know much of anything about his new companions.

  Siel looked over, and he realized he’d been staring, chest-deep in the adder’s mouth as he worked to remove a few of the larger fangs. She gave him a quizzical look, and he flushed before returning to the work, being careful not to impale himself. Most of the past few weeks had been spent in complete isolation, and those before that were only moderately less so. He’d been so focused on the outcomes of forming a party that he hadn’t really given thought to the practical, day-to-day nature of it.

  His stomach churned in a way that had nothing to do with the snake. Assuming she wanted to team up permanently, they’d need to deal with the realities of living and hunting together. What if they didn’t get along? What if she was an asshole?

  What if he was the asshole?

  He shivered and continued along, carefully scooping out the adder’s eyes before storing them. He wasted no time in stripping large patches of scaly hide, trying to keep them as intact as possible. The scales themselves were hard as steel, and far lighter. He had no doubt Arther would be able to use them to craft some incredible armour. Sam just hoped he could afford it.

  He managed to clear about a fifteen-foot section before the hairs on the back of his neck began to prickle. He stopped, turning to scan the surrounding trees.

  Siel noticed the motion and stood, mirroring his posture. Molly followed suit, her wet snout twitching. Siel’s bow was in her hand without a word, and Sam immediately copied her, summoning his shield and spear.

  He cautiously moved back towards the entrance to the cave, heart pounding despite the apparent stillness. It felt as though the Spire were holding its breath, and he realized what had originally caused his hackles to raise: the birds had stopped.

  Over the past weeks, he’d come to rely heavily on the signs from the forest itself. The presence of many small animals meant the absence of larger game, and the constant flitting of birds usually meant it was safe. The inverse was also true.

  The ravine was quiet as a grave.

  They exchanged a look, but neither dared speak. Both had survived for weeks on Elysium’s punishing slopes. Both had their instincts shaped by fierce predators. This was something else. This was something more.

  The first, distant crash was so low that Sam almost didn’t register it. Only Siel, stiffening beside him, confirmed that it hadn’t been his imagination. The following crash was louder, the sound funnelled through the valley’s high walls. The impacts increased in frequency until it was clear that whatever was coming, it was headed straight towards them. It was moving at speed, faster even than the adder.

  Sam glanced around. The steep wall behind them would take time to climb, assuming the boar could even manage the feat in its current state. Their only option was the cave, set back into the rock. He gestured towards it, and Siel nodded.

  Molly took point, barely able to squeeze her bulk into the narrow crevasse. It caused more noise than Sam would have liked, but he doubted whatever was charging through the woods would be able to hear it over the sound of its own destructive passing.

  They just managed to fit inside the small cave when Sam saw the tops of the distant treetops begin to sway, then disappear. He blinked, and they were simply–gone. Siel had clearly noticed the same, and he heard her murmur what might have been a prayer. A past version of himself might have judged her for the act, but given their current position–and the fact that the gods were actually real–he figured they could use all the help they could get.

  They stayed there for a long moment, peering out from behind the craggy rocks. The only sounds were those of their breathing and the distant rumble of an approaching apocalypse.

  The first sight of the beast froze the breath in his lungs.

  Beast didn’t begin to describe the monster that tore through the ravine towards them. Beast implied something that felt powerful, yet natural, an extension of the physical world.

  This creature was not that.

  The behemoth resembled an unholy fusion of centipede and dragon. Its head evoked depictions he’d seen of classical Chinese dragons, but that was where the similarities stopped. The thing was an eldritch horror, torn from the pages of some long-forgotten book. Its scales were a brilliant gold that blinded him as he tried to wrap his head around the sheer size of it.

  The scale was unlike anything he’d seen on the Ring, unlike anything he’d ever possibly imagined. While the adder had been huge, it had been manageable. Sam had been able to dodge it, and simple attacks had damaged it. Sam couldn’t picture even [Longinus Strike] making a dent in this monster’s chitinous armour.

  It completely reset his perception of scale. It was as though someone had taken a skyscraper and dropped it on its side. All along its length, massive, clawed legs ripped the earth as it passed. The sound could only be compared to an avalanche, and the result was just as potent.

  Siel shook beside him, and he didn’t need to look to know she felt the same way he did. Fear, deep and primal, echoed through his core. If the adder was the peak of the Iron, then this titan ruled Bronze, or hell, all of the Ring itself. Sam couldn’t imagine there was another creature that could compare in sheer destructive capability. Everything it touched was shredded as it moved. It was a calamity given form.

  The monster stopped when it reached the adder’s corpse and wasted no time in devouring it. It began at the tail and worked its way up, its jaw unhinging to consume the snake whole. From its belly, smaller versions of it detached, scampering ahead to rip chunks from the beast before being overwhelmed by their gargantuan parent.

  Sam watched with morbid fascination as the adder was systematically torn apart. The lesser creatures fought each other for scraps, and small skirmishes broke out along its length. The ravine became a maelstrom of golden chittering death. Their rapid movements triggered some deep sense of revulsion in Sam’s brain.

  These were the monsters that his primate ancestors had learned to fear. These were the things of nightmares.

  The swarm drew steadily closer, and Sam moved to push back farther into the cave, only to discover there was no place to go. The hollow only extended back about twenty feet, and most of that was taken up by Molly’s impressive girth. While the opening was small enough that he doubted the drago-pedes could get inside, he knew it would be a simple matter for the titan to rip the entrance open like an otter shucking an oyster.

  They were trapped.

  “They’ll find us,” Siel whispered, face a mask of terror. “They hunt by sensing mana. Even if we could hide our scent, it won’t be enough.”

  Sam peered out through the opening and realized she was right. The heads of the smaller centipedes were entirely covered by chiton, leaving only an oddly deformed snout filled with needle-like fangs, and flanked by an enormous pair of ripping pincers.

  “Can’t we hide our auras?” he asked, watching as her emerald outline flickered and warped.

  “No,” she replied, eyes wide. “Not like you. I’ve never seen anything like it. Without your armour, it’s like you’re not even there. You’re completely invisible to [Nature’s Eye].”

  Sam looked down at his own hand, unsure what to make of her statement. He couldn’t see his aura other than when he infused it into his weapons, but he assumed that was normal. Maybe it wasn’t. Was this another feature of [Apostate]?

  “I’ll run,” she said, summoning an arrow. “At least that way, one of us can survive. As long as Mjolna and I are with you, we’ll draw them straight to us.”

  “Forget it,” Sam hissed, taken aback by the ferocity in his voice. Despite the fact that they’d just met, he suddenly felt a swell of emotion at the thought of her running out to die. Maybe it was the fact that she’d saved his life, or maybe it was just that she was the first Warrior who’d looked at him like he was an actual person.

  Derision, pity, fear. The faces of those he’d met had not been kind since he’d fallen through the portal. Only Arther and the other Wardens had shown him anything resembling friendship. She’d saved him without a thought and fought beside him without question. Whoever she was, she was someone worth fighting for.

  Without thinking, he reached out a hand and laid it on the sylvan and her Familiar. Both stiffened at the contact, but didn’t pull away. In his mind, he sought out the well-worn nub that was [Apostate], and consciously cycled it through his [Mana Network]. Over the past week, he’d begun doing the exercises that Arther had shown him, which involved pushing and pulling his skills and titles through his various pathways.

  He’d become more familiar with them, even if the process still felt clunky and uncomfortable. He pushed that discomfort aside as he urged the title to flow out through his arms and into his companions. He was immediately met with resistance as their networks fought back against the intrusive presence.

  It was like trying to sieve water with his hands. The second he felt he had a grasp on it, it slipped away, sloughing mana out into the open. He refocused his concentration, trying to brute force his way past, only to see Siel wince in pain as he tried to overcome her natural defences.

  It wasn’t working. Even if he could overpower her, there was no way he’d be able to sustain it until the monsters ate their fill and left. He thought he could feel her consciously trying to pull back, but even with her suppressing her mana, it wouldn’t be enough.

  He let out a strained moan as the sounds of the feasting insects drew steadily closer. He was out of time. He looked her in the eyes and saw a glistening tear fall down her cheek. She understood; it was too late.

  No.

  His heart pounded in his chest, the title veritably sizzling under his skin. This wouldn’t be where they died. He wasn’t going out, torn apart by some cosmic horror. He looked out of the cave again and realized he was thinking about it all wrong. He didn’t need to suppress their internal mana–he just needed to hide them.

  He reversed the title’s flow and allowed [Apostate] to wash freely over his skin. Rather than forcing it through existing channels, he treated the two like he would a weapon. He allowed the title to coat them like a blanket, covering them–and most of the cave–in a haze of divine disruption.

  He heard Siel gasp beside him, and Molly let out a low grunt in surprise.

  The process was tiring, but not any more than fighting a dozen ghouls or a room full of draug. The world faded away, and all that remained was the flow of mana.

  He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that, and it was only Siel forcibly grabbing his hand that brought him out of the trance-like state.

  He gasped, eyes regaining focus. The light in the cave had shifted, the sun rotating around to its elongated twilight. Siel stared at him in wonder, and he realized enough time had passed that her injuries had visibly healed.

  “Sam,” she said, voice insistent. “Sam, can you hear me?”

  “Yes,” he gasped, throat dry. “Are they gone?”

  “They’ve been gone for an hour,” she replied, face pinched in concern. “Whatever you did, it was like we weren’t even here. They came right up to the opening of the cave, but no farther.”

  She took a step back, and her face blossomed into a pure, radiant smile. “You did it, Sam. You saved us.”