The trail up the mountain curved like a pale scar carved into the woods. Cold wind ran through the pines and carried the lingering copper tang of blood. I walked at the front, grimoire secured under my arm, trying to think of methods to apply in the upcoming fight with the Gorg leader. Behind me, the others filled the quiet with their soft conversations.

  Mary walked besides Alya, fussing in her gentle, insistent way.

  “Are you sure you're doing all right, dear?” she asked. “After… well, after everything?”

  Alya managed a small smile. She’d grown close to Mary; it was almost funny. Compared to the coldness and anger she displayed for nearly anyone else, she talked to the middle-aged healer like a daughter walking with her mother. “I’m fine,” Alya said softly. “The wounds healed completely. It’s just… sometimes when I breathe deeply I get this strange ache. Like the memory of the pain.”

  “That’s normal,” Mary assured her. “Phantom pain. Happens after major regeneration. It’ll fade. Give it a day or two.”

  Alya hummed, satisfied.

  Ahead, I caught Quinn and Jack talking in low, excited tones. The teen gestured with his hands, mimicking sword swings as he peppered Jack with questions.

  “So what can you actually do?” Quinn asked. “Any special techniques? Any hidden skills?”

  Jack gave a snort that might have been a laugh. “Kid, I stab hard and don’t die. That’s the whole secret.”

  “That’s not a secret,” Quinn muttered.

  “It is for most people.”

  I shook my head, amused, then glanced back at Marcus. He was carrying the bundle of sharpened sticks he’d made, crude-looking, but I knew better than to underestimate anything in this place.

  “So,” I said, “what are you going to use the slim spear for? Part of some trap?”

  Marcus grunted. “No trap. Do you know what an atlatl is?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Old-world spear-thrower. Used before bows were common.”

  “Exactly.” He pulled one from the side of his pack, carved wood, simple but beautifully balanced. “Figured it’d get some distance. Force matters more than finesse with Gorg hide.”

  I let out a low whistle. “Impressive. What kind of crafter are you, actually?”

  At his belt hung a sling of woven rope and cloth, and a heavy satchel of stones clinked as he walked. The man was practically a walking museum of ancient weaponry.

  Marcus looked ahead as he spoke, almost reluctant. “Not a full crafter. He was more of a prehistoric survivalist than a full crafter.

  That earned everyone's attention. Quinn slowed his steps. Jack raised a brow. Even Mary peeked around Alya.

  Marcus noticed the sudden silence and sighed. “Don’t look at me like that. I just… didn’t like people much. Preferred the woods. Hunting, building things with my hands. So when it came time to choose a class, I picked what actually fit. Even if my starting skills were crafting related, I don’t regret it.”

  “Well,” I said, “I’m glad you came with us. Really?”

  He shrugged, but I saw the corner of his mouth tug slightly.

  I went on, “For those who don’t know, we discovered an achievement. And I’d like all of you to get it too if possible.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Mary waved a hand. “That’s very sweet, Elias, but I don’t really need one. I’m already level twelve from all the healing last night.”

  Everyone stopped for a heartbeat.

  Quinn blurted, “You’re a higher level than me? Damn.”

  Mary gave him a patient look. “I have no fighting capability, Quinn. None. So don’t make that face.”

  I asked, “Any skills over level ten, then?”

  She nodded. “Yes. And before you ask—yes, they change. Skills at ten give branching options, improvements, etc. But getting from nine to ten…” she sighed. “It took the whole night, practically. Trying to keep the wounded alive long enough. But now it’s stronger. Much stronger.”

  “That’s good to know,” I said.

  I opened my mouth to say more, then Quinn froze mid-step.

  “Gorgs,” he whispered.

  We all halted instantly.

  Quinn moved silently to the side, sliding behind a pine like he had melted into it. He peeked around the trunk. After a few breaths he returned, voice low.

  “Squad of five. One mage, three brutes, and a fighter with an axe. Coming up the trail towards us.”

  I drew the grimoire from my side. Alya quietly unhooked her greatsword. Marcus readied the atlatl with a slim spear. Mary lifted her shield and gripped her spear tight. Quinn’s eyes sharpened; he disappeared again into the brush.

  I whispered, “We split. Quinn, Mary, and Jack are off to the right side. Stay hidden until it begins; I’ll take the fighter. Alya, go for the mage alone. A clean first hit may kill it, and you will probably get the achievement. Marcus and I will take the left. We hit them once they pass between us.”

  No one argued.

  Everyone moved into position, and I could feel the shift, the air tightening like a held breath.

  The Gorg squad lumbered up the trail, growling between each other and totally unaware they were walking into a trap. Their guttural voices carried in the wind. The mage’s gnarled staff pulsed faintly in its hands.

  They were exactly between us when I gathered mana in my palm and channelled it through the grimoire. The arcane bullet formed on the tip of my fingers, darker than usual, denser, humming with pressure.

  I fired.

  The shot tore through the air with a small whoosh and struck the fighter’s knee. Not piercing it like usual, obliterated. Bone and flesh vanished in a spray of dark ichor. The Gorg collapsed with a shocked bellow that turned to a screeching roar of agony.

  Quinn and Jack darted out instantly. Jack slammed into a brute with a brutal shoulder charge, stabbing twice into its gut. Quinn flicked out of the brush like a knife-wielding shadow and hamstrung another brute cleanly; it crashed to the ground screaming.

  Marcus’ spear shot from the atlatl after a moment, burying itself deep into the ribs of the third brute.

  However, the mage reacted quickly and raised its hands. Green sparks swirled, forming a growing orb of energy.

  Alya lunged out from behind him, greatsword lifted high. She brought it down onto the mage’s neck with all her strength.

  The blade carved halfway through, not enough to decapitate due to its dullness, but enough to wound it and stagger it violently. Its forming spell flickered apart in motes of green light.

  The mage shrieked and tried to retaliate.

  Alya didn’t give it the chance. She struck again and again, each blow harder than the last, each driven by desperate momentum and raw fury. Bones cracked. Flesh split. Arms broke under the weight of her sword. Finally, with a final downward thrust into its skull, the mage stilled.

  By the time Alya finished, the battlefield was nearly decided.

  Marcus had thrown two more spears, one sticking out of a brute’s throat, another pinning its leg. Jack finished his opponent with steady, efficient strikes. My target writhed on the ground, and I shattered its remaining knee and shoulders to ensure it stayed down.

  Quinn’s target lay on the ground bleeding out, twitching.

  “All clear?” I called.

  “Yes.”

  “Affirmative.”

  “All good.”

  A grunt from Marcus.

  “Not a scratch.” Said Mary from behind the trees.

  I nodded. “Lowest level?”

  “Six,” Marcus said.

  “Me too,” said Jack.

  “Alya?” I asked.

  “Seven,” she replied, and her expression indicated that she had also received the achievement.

  “Then if either of you want your achievement, don’t level yet,” I said. “The next mage kill is yours.”

  Jack pointed to himself. “I’ll take it gladly.”

  Marcus thought for a moment. “Give these two to the lad. Or the healer.” He shrugged. “I’ll get mine eventually.”

  So we did.

  Alya executed the crippled fighter cleanly while Mary approached the bleeding brute cautiously. With one precise thrust, she finished it. She had steady hands, even with a spear.

  Marcus retrieved his intact spears. Two of them, too broken to salvage, he simply left in the corpse.

  And just like that, we resumed the climb.

  The fight, the coordination, the small victories – they all felt like steps leading us forward. This is how it should be. I was glad to have brought them with me; they were a good addition to the team. It's a pity that Tom was so stuck with the people in the clearing.

  It didn’t matter in the end; I will stay with the group until the curse forces me, and not a moment longer. And whoever will come with me should be capable enough to keep up; I won’t accept anything less.

  20 chapters ahead!