The guards waved Sam through the gates without so much as a word, though he did notice the looks that lingered on his spear and shield. The wall itself rose over twenty feet high and was wide enough for defenders to stand atop it four rows deep. The doors of the external gate were made of heavy iron, and he once again wondered what exactly they were designed to keep out.

  Sam saw a few other warriors sparring in the distance, their movements clunky and uncertain. He knew all that would change with their first few skills—assuming they lived that long. He avoided them and looped off to his left, heading south, and settling into a light jog. His [Enchanted Warrior’s Cuirass] fit snugly over his tunic, and his newly refined body didn't even register the added weight.

  Keeping the cliffs on his right, he made his way in a wide arc before pushing deeper into the forest and up the slope. It wasn't long before he was back in familiar territory, the tall pines casting deep shadows on the mossy ground. He stopped at the first pool he encountered and filled his canteen, taking the time to get his bearings. He figured he was probably a few miles away from his initial encounter with the rats, and wondered if he should keep heading south for some much-deserved payback.

  He quickly dismissed the idea, instead focusing on the game plan that he’d worked out with Arther. The farther up the cliffs he ventured, the tougher the monsters would be, meaning the potential reward would increase exponentially. He’d done some quick math on how much he needed to farm per day, and the numbers were not encouraging.

  Storing his canteen, he continued up the slope, slowing his pace as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. The gloom seemed to take on a physical weight, pressing against him like a damp cloth. His ears strained, waiting for the inevitable noise that would indicate a monster lurking in the brush.

  It didn’t come.

  Eventually, he gave up searching and started looking for a place to set up camp. One of a party’s many benefits was sleeping in shifts, ensuring one member would always be keeping watch. Sam had no such luxury, which meant that he’d have to spend more time building up a defensible position and setting trap lines. He had multiple lengths of twine he could use to create a perimeter, ideally giving him some warning if something big came stomping his way.

  He continued to press higher up the hill, looking for suitable fallen trees or stone outcroppings. He settled on a patch of rock that jutted out from the hill at a sharp angle, creating a natural overhang. It had a large tree embedded in the ground above it, and the roots created a shallow cave.

  He took out his shovel and began digging farther back into the slope, piling the dirt to the sides to reinforce the walls. When he was satisfied he had enough room to lie down comfortably, he set up his ground sheet and laid out his blanket. He lay back and used his cloak as a pillow, surprised by how comfortable it was. If he hadn't been in the middle of a life-or-death struggle for survival, he might actually be enjoying himself.

  He pulled out a small piece of jerky and chewed on it as he contemplated what to do next. Initially, he’d considered the possibility of just making a big bonfire and luring monsters to him that way, but Arther had quickly talked him out of it. Not only was it likely to attract other Warriors, but he had no way of controlling the number of enemies that showed up. It was maybe viable as a last-ditch effort in the final days, if he was truly desperate for spira, but for now, he’d have to hunt the old-fashioned way.

  He sighed and dragged himself to his feet, loath to leave the comfort of his cozy burrow. The next hour was spent gathering firewood and setting his lines. The strings were tied between trees at ankle level, a small stick shoved through a loop at their center, one end buried in the earth. The thought was that if someone—or something—yanked the line, it would snap the stick, hopefully creating enough noise to wake him if he was sleeping.

  Arther had shown him pictures of different edible berries, and he snagged a few handfuls as he saw them. Berry bushes were plentiful in this part of the forest, and he made a mental note to get a few small pouches so that he could more easily store them.

  He’d just finished setting the final line when he heard the sound he’d been waiting for all day: the furtive scuffling of an animal. He paused, and stored the twine, summoning his spear and shield. The shield settled directly onto his arm, the weight momentarily throwing him off balance. He was still getting used to equipping and unequipping items from his tafla. Gear was summoned at the speed of thought, which meant it was dramatically faster than anything he was used to back home. The feeling of weight being added instantly was an entirely new sensation, and despite his increased perception, it still messed with his head.

  He gave the straps on his cuirass one final check before advancing toward the sound. He kept himself low, shield raised in front of him, spear resting against the thick metal band. The snuffling from the brush increased in volume, and he peered through a bush to find himself face-to-face with an enormous badger.

  Its shovel-sized paws gouged at the base of a large pine, serrated claws shredding the bark like knives. Its huge snout rifled through the remains, slurping up grubs with reckless abandon. It had a bristling mane of silver fur, with patches of red interspersed among the black and white. Sam had seen enough nature shows to know never to mess with badgers. Their ferocity was legendary, even on Earth. Combine that with the fact that this one was almost the size of a grizzly bear, and he was quickly regretting his decision to push further up the mountain.

  The badger paused, hackles raised, and its snout began to twitch. Sam took one tentative step backwards, only to tread directly onto a dry, brittle twig. The snap rang out like a gunshot among the silent pines.

  Oh goddamnit.

  The words hadn’t even fully formed in his mind when the badger raised its head and barrelled through the brush. Its small, beady eyes were fixed on him, jaws opening to reveal a collection of razor-sharp fangs. Sam had no choice but to tank the blow, catching the beast’s shoulder in the center of his shield.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  He managed to deflect the brunt of the charge, sending the badger careening off between the trees. He scored a glancing blow on its flank as it passed, but his spear barely penetrated the tough hide. His shield arm throbbed from the impact, wrist aching from where he’d turned the beast aside.

  The badger favoured straightforward attacks, using its superior bulk to run down and crush its prey. Sam shuffled along the slope, keeping the trunks of the sturdy pines between him and the monster. He was able to dodge a few more charges in this manner, continuing to score small nicks where he could.

  The badger quickly grew more and more frustrated with their game of cat and mouse and began throwing itself at him with no regard for personal safety. Sam was forced back on the defensive, utilizing the passive benefits of [Basic Stamina] to maintain his distance. Despite the skill, his lungs were burning, and his arms were quickly growing heavy from defending against the constant barrage. He landed a few solid strikes with his spear, but the pain seemed to only further enrage the beast.

  At first, he thought that the blood from his attacks was dying the monster’s fur red. But the more he watched, he realized that the red patches were actually expanding; a physical manifestation of the badger’s rage. The beast’s movements became more erratic, and it swiped at his spear with its claws, doing more damage to itself than to the weapon.

  It appeared to be entering some kind of berserker state, feral eyes going bloodshot, fur rippling with bands of crimson. In contrast, Sam fell into what could almost be described as a meditative trance; his whole world reduced to the point of his spear.

  The tip flashed through the air like quicksilver, cutting his quarry again and again, slicing deep furrows into the rough hide. It was different from battling other Warriors. His confrontation with the sylvan and the var has been as much a battle of the psyche as it was a test of skill. Against the rampaging badger, there was no thought. It was simply an equation of being where the claws were not, and striking as hard and as frequently as he could.

  If sparring with Arther was chess, then this wasn’t even checkers. He was simply throwing pieces at the board and hoping someone would call checkmate.

  Both he and the monster were on their last legs when he finally saw his opening. The world snapped into focus as the beast reared back, clearly planning on dropping its mass on him in a final gambit.

  Sam stashed his shield with a thought and gripped the spear in both hands. He planted his feet and lunged upwards with as much strength as his newly refined body could muster, driving the point underneath the beast’s chin and directly into its brain.

  It froze, muscles jerking in minute spasms. After what felt like an eternity, it let out a low, wet gurgle before sliding to the ground in a heap. Sam dismissed the spear and collapsed next to his fallen prey, vaguely aware of the soft ding that echoed in his ears. He glanced up and noted that his spira had increased by 300. He couldn't help but smile as he flopped back on a small patch of moss, wiping off the blood and gore that covered his hands and forearms.

  He’d received as much spira from the single kill as he had from a half-dozen rats, and he’d done so without taking any significant injuries. His wrist was swollen from where he’d blocked the badger’s charges and swipes, but already the bruises were beginning to fade from purple to green. They’d likely be gone within the hour as [Basic Regeneration] worked to bring him back to health.

  He sat upright and expanded the screen of his talfa, opening up his combat log. The screen was a newfound discovery, and supposedly not one that many Warriors utilized. He checked the entry for the last combat.

  [Combat - Mountain Badger - Iron - Uncommon]

  Spira: 300

  The mountain badgers of Olympos are some of the most fearsome beasts that guard the lowest reaches of the Elesian Forests. Many a new warrior has met their death, unwittingly stumbling across their lairs.

  Unfortunately, it didn't show the distribution of spira across his various skills, but he felt confident that he’d start to see some progress in terms of levels after the next few kills.

  Kills. He rolled the word around in his mouth, surprised by how little it bothered him. The night in the woods against the dire-rats had done more to steel him than he’d realized. He glanced over at the corpse and tried to store it, mildly surprised when it vanished without issue. He was glad the tafla seemed to intrinsically know whether or not he was capable of lifting it without him actually having to prove it. He checked his inventory and felt his grin widen as he saw that the corpse had been automatically broken down, separating the meat, hide, and bones. He let out a low chuckle, thinking about how many hours that would save him down the road, and lamenting the cold night eating burnt rat.

  He sat for a while and caught his breath, absentmindedly scrolling through the various screens of his talfa, while summoning and dismissing his knife. He discovered that he could summon the blade anywhere he wanted within an inch of his body. Orientation didn't matter, but he couldn't summon the blade inside of something else. He stored that tidbit of information away, mildly disappointed that he couldn't summon his spear directly inside an enemy. He supposed it made sense. The Arbiter didn't want you simply magicking a weapon inside an opponent—you had to put it there yourself.

  He stood and cracked his back, resummoning his spear. He was surprised to see that it had been completely cleansed of blood. He did the same to his shield, noting that it still retained the dents and scratches from the combat, but otherwise had been completely cleaned. He glanced around before quickly storing and re-equipping his tunic and cuirass. The polished leather reappeared looking as good as new, and he did a little dance, realizing he’d never need to worry about laundry. He’d still have to clean himself, but at least he wouldn't be giving away his location through his unwashed stench after a week in the bush.

  He took a deep breath and steadied himself, double-checking everything was in order before heading out through the trees. He’d overcome his first challenge. He’d killed an [Uncommon] beast and lived to fight another day. Despite the gravity of his situation, he couldn't help but feel a small welling of pride. He’d done it. He could do it. The impossible goal at the top of the Spire no longer seemed quite so out of reach. He could stand against the monsters that lurked in the dark, and he could win.

  His grin took on a cutting edge. If he could kill one rampaging badger, he could kill more, and more. And whatever else stood between him and the portal that would take him home. And who knew? Maybe, just maybe, he’d get a shot at a god.

  He kept that thought to himself as he set off between the towering pines, his footsteps light as he settled into a steady rhythm.

  It was time to hunt.