The morning settled into a basic routine as Sam ranged farther and farther from his camp. Battle monster, clean gear, rest, repeat. He encountered another badger and a pair of oversized hares. The killer rabbits had given him more trouble, with speed that was on par with the [Divine Skill] used by the first dire-rat he’d encountered. Their powerful legs were capable of incredible feats of agility, and he’d received a bite to the ass before he’d even been aware of their presence.

  In the end, he’d been forced to put his back against a tree and bait them into a headlong charge. It wasn't the most glamorous of victories, but he’d walked away with two skewered rabbits and 400 spira to his name.

  The sun had reached its zenith—or the closest approximation to it—and Sam made the call to return to camp to recuperate and get a few hours' sleep. He was walking with a slight limp, and he’d accumulated bruises on most of his body. His fighting style rewarded trading blows with weaker opponents, but that meant he was still taking said blows, and a morning of nonstop combat was beginning to catch up with him.

  He checked his trip lines and was pleased to see that they were all intact. He crawled into his burrow and flopped back with a groan. His muscles ached, and he hadn't appreciated how much he’d been running on pure adrenaline. He lay there for a few minutes, identifying the various cuts and bruises festooned across his person. The bite on his ass was excruciating, and he focused on it, willing the healing to concentrate on knitting the flesh back together.

  To his shock, it worked.

  What had been a general usage of the skill—an all-over balm of regeneration—was now directed at a specific injury. It was a bizarre sensation to feel the skin stretch and pull itself back together. It itched something awful, but after a mere ten minutes, his butt no longer felt like it had been on the receiving end of four-inch-long incisors.

  He sat up and let his concentration lax, feeling the skill resume its default operation. The knowledge that even his passive skills could be guided opened up a whole range of possibilities, and he wondered what other applications it might have.

  He opened up his storage, looking to get out his cooking supplies, when he heard a soft Ding. The sound was lower in pitch than the notification for slaying an enemy, and he checked his profile screen, feeling a grin creep across his face. He had a suspicion as to what might have caused the sound, and upon checking his skills, he got his answer.

  [Basic Regeneration - Tier 2 - Upgradeable]

  He let out a small whoop, seeing that the skill had reached the second tier. It was a small victory, insignificant in the scheme of things, but it was one of the first tangible markers of his progress. Yes, he had more spira in his coffers than he had at the start of the day, but seeing that small number 2 on the screen meant so much more.

  It also occurred to him that he didn't get the level increase until he’d actively directed the skill, meaning that there was more in play than simply attributing the prerequisite amount of spira. There were also intangible elements involved in optimizing how the skill functioned. It was another key piece of information, and one he was certain some warriors would never realize.

  So much of the war was trial and error, and he figured he’d probably have a hundred questions for Arther by the time he made it back to the forge. Despite it all, he found he was actually enjoying the process of optimizing his “build”. At the end of the day, he was a scientist. If there were tests he could run, and results he could verify—he would. He hadn't played games all that frequently, but when he did, he always favoured the most broken, meta picks. If he were going to play—he’d play to win. He couldn't help but feel that the same principles applied here.

  He knew he was taking the more dangerous path, betting on himself by spending all of his starting currency. Some part of him debated starting a small savings pool, but the math just didn't support it. Yes, it was a risk, but this was the reward. The next time he faced down an enemy, he knew he could push the fight that much harder.

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  He sat contentedly as he built up a small fire and set a pot to boil. He threw a few chunks of hare into the rice and beans and ended up making something halfway edible.

  Salt, I need salt, he thought to himself, ripping into a piece of the gamey meat. He checked the countdown, noting that it was roughly noon by spire time. He’d give himself four hours to rest before setting out, taking advantage of the evening hours when the monsters would be most active.

  Before he lay back to sleep, he opened his tafla once more and tabbed over to his skill trees. Arther had advised against purchasing skills in the wild unless he was absolutely confident that he was safe and protected. Most skill purchases left the warrior weak or incapacitated, at least on the earlier Rings.

  On a whim, he opened the page for [Divine Skills]. The page looked different from the esoteric constellations that provided the path for his [Martial Skills] and [Enhancement Skills]. Instead, he was presented with a list of all the deities currently registered in the Pantheon.

  A familiar face greeted him at the top of the page, keeping a prime location due to his status as Herald of War. Underneath the name was a description of the types of boons he offered, as well as his requirements for worship. His were pretty steep for the first ring, requiring a sacrifice at his shrine of a monster worth at least 500 spira.

  Other gods weren't so picky, but their boons also seemed less flashy. Sam browsed through the list, trying to get a sense of what he might be up against. He saw gods from every religion, and some he’d never seen at all. Every school of magic was represented, and often more than once. Water magic, fire magic, nature, decay, time, light, and darkness. He would be facing up against every conceivable threat, and all he had to stand against them were his weapons and his wits.

  Speaking of weapons…he tabbed over to the martial tab and mentally tapped the star cluster that was beginning to form from his purchase of [Simple Melee Weapon Proficiency]. From the initial star shot, a series of branches emerged, each representing one of the weapons. Those branches took the shape of the weapons themselves, and he honed in on the simple, straight line of the spear.

  He felt confident he’d continue using the weapon for a while, and even if he eventually swapped, the skills he had gained would help him grind in the short term. He was under no delusions. He’d need to be flexible to overcome the challenges ahead. He couldn't afford to be prideful or get stuck on a strategy just because he’d invested in it. Utilitarianism was his greatest ally. He was on a straightforward path—the path of least resistance.

  He selected the first skill in the spear constellation:

  [Spear Mastery - Iron - Common - Upgradeable]

  The path of the spear is the path of balance. The master spearman must flow like water, and strike like lightning, flexing to the whims of combat.

  Grants increased damage when fighting with a spear.

  [Cost: 1000 Spira]

  Arther had given him the brief rundown on [Mastery Skills], outlining their unique mechanics. They functioned differently in that they didn't actually evolve into new skills, but rather unlocked the ability to purchase a subsequent skill every 5 tiers. He would still gain the benefits from the levels—gleaning the intangible skills of past champions—but he wouldn't be able to evolve the mastery skill itself.

  Every weapon and armour path began the same way, and the road to mastery was long. He took a hard look at the purchase icon, knowing it would immediately bring him back down to 5 spira. His short-lived piggy bank would already be smashed, but the earlier he could purchase the skill, the earlier he could start levelling it.

  The decision practically made itself.

  He lay back and pressed the button, waiting for the inevitable rush of pain. To his surprise, it didn't come. He was still blasted with a series of images of spear-wielders, but the strength of the impressions never went above a mild discomfort. After twenty or so minutes, he heard a soft chime and confirmed that he’d learned the skill.

  The contrast versus purchasing six skills at once was dramatic, and even when he’d picked up [Basic Perception], there had been significant pain. It seemed that [Enhancement Skills] had a much greater impact on the body, or maybe he was just particularly attuned to the spear after fighting with it all day.

  Either way, he couldn't help but grin as he lay back on his makeshift cot. He had a course of action, and despite a myriad of setbacks, it actually seemed achievable. He realized, for the first time in a long time, that he was actually happy. Despite everything that happened, despite the pain and fear, he felt alive. The stagnant cloud that had hung over him for years had lifted. He felt clear, focused, committed.

  Maybe part of him had died that first night in the forest. Maybe part of him had to. The Spire had no tolerance for weakness or doubt, and he felt neither as he curled up under his blanket and let sleep carry him off.