Marco P.O.V.

  “Ah! It still hurt, dammit!”

  The last glow of Mary’s healing faded from my skin, warmth knitting flesh where stone had torn it apart. It still hurt like hell, but pain was temporary. Glory wasn’t.

  I was just flexing my fingers, admiring how steady my mana felt now, when Alya’s voice echoed from nearby.

  She looked down, axe on her shoulder, expression sharp enough to cut.

  “Are you even a man?”

  Something hot and ugly twisted in my chest.

  Bitch.

  I glared up at her, teeth clenched, and snapped, “I’d like to see you with twenty shards in the abdomen without opening your mouth. If you had nothing useful to say, then shut up!”

  She snorted. “I handled my own gorg mage without ending up looking like a porcupine.”

  Yeah? As if. And even if it was, sure as hell she hit it in the back. Fuck off.

  Outwardly, I just turned away from her and focused on what actually mattered.

  My status screen.

  Nothing, not even Elias’s whore, could dull the shine of it.

  Level 9.

  After only one kill.

  The numbers looked beautiful. My stats had jumped like they were on steroids, mana capacity soaring, regeneration ticking faster than ever. I grinned despite myself, giddy, almost laughing.

  It wouldn’t take long now.

  A few more fights, one good achievement, and I’d surpass all of them. Elias included. Then people would listen. Then I’d take charge, drag this group out of the tutorial, and show them how it was done.

  Well. Not everyone.

  The useless ones could fend for themselves.

  Only the worthy would follow me.

  …Maybe I could make an exception for Rhea.

  My eyes drifted, unbidden, to where she stood a bit apart. Without that stupid dark makeup, she looked much better. Dark hair, bright green eyes, a slim body, and a really big pair of tits. Probably where all the nutrients went, considering her brain deficiencies and always rambling about rituals and spirits.

  Yeah. Her, I could keep around.

  Alya, though… if that bitch were less aggressive, maybe she could be added too. Later. Future Marco problem.

  Present Marco had decisions to make.

  We started moving again, with Quinn taking the lead. I fell in just behind them, mind already drifting back to my screen as a new prompt blinked insistently.

  Mana Arrow has reached level 10. And I had an evolution to pick: a mana drill, a mana javelin, or an exploding mana arrow.

  I almost laughed out loud.

  Was that even a choice?

  Are you really a man if you don’t choose explosion?

  The irony of using Alya’s line soured my mood for half a second, but I schooled my expression and selected the upgrade without hesitation.

  Done.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Power surged, subtle but intoxicating.

  I couldn’t wait to see their faces.

  My stats alone made me feel incredible. This new spell… this would let me erase enemies. I chuckled under my breath, already picturing it.

  Melissa glanced at me, brows furrowed. “Why are you smiling like that?”

  I ignored her.

  She couldn’t possibly understand the power I wielded now.

  While the others kept chatting about their bullshit, I activated my mana sight. The world shifted instantly, veins of energy threading through trees, stones, and living things.

  And then I saw it.

  Even Quinn hadn’t noticed yet.

  One of the monsters he’d described perched on a truck-sized boulder far on the left, facing away from us. Perfectly camouflaged to normal vision, but to me it glowed like a miniature sun.

  Yeah.

  That would do.

  One kill, one demonstration, one last level for my class improvement. Two birds, one stone. Easy.

  I moved slightly left, passing in front of the teenage mage. Useless girl. All she’d done was push a brute around without even killing it.

  I stopped.

  Melissa noticed immediately. “Marco? What are you doing?”

  Shut it. I had to concentrate.

  The new spell formed, familiar yet different. The arrow of mana was thicker now, heavier, greedier. But the real difference was the tip. The arrowhead was dense, packed tight with volatile energy, just waiting to detonate.

  I took aim.

  The spell will fly straight. I just knew it, and I had line of sight; it was like the world served me this opportunity on a silver platter.

  I released.

  The arrow streaked forward, a flash of blue, and a second later slammed into the centre of the monster’s back.

  The explosion bloomed in a violent burst of blue light and sound, blasting the creature off the boulder.

  BOOM.

  The forest shook.

  Everyone spun around.

  “What the fuck was that?!” Alya shouted, staring at me.

  I smirked and opened my mouth. “That is the work of—”

  WRAAAAHH!

  The sound ripped through the air, wrong somehow, deep and echoing, cold enough to crawl down my spine. My words died in my throat.

  A notification chimed.

  'Yes,' I thought, relief surging. I killed it.

  I opened the log.

  No kill.

  Just a notification that my new spell had levelled up.

  “…Uh oh.”

  Fuck.

  How could that thing survive an explosion to the back? That wasn’t possible. It had to be a death throe. It had to be.

  The forest went quiet for a heartbeat.

  Then another cry answered the first.

  Then another.

  All around us.

  Quinn whirled on me, fury blazing. “You idiot! Deal with them by yourself now, would you?!”

  Elias’s face had gone hard. “Everyone in formation, drop your pack. Quinn, attack at will. Alya and Marcus, the sides. I’ll cover the front.”

  He unhooked that stupid mace from his belt and stepped forward.

  What the hell did he think he was doing? He was a mage, not a fighter.

  He glanced back at me once, eyes cold.

  “If we survive this, you and I will have a long talk.”

  I swallowed without meaning to. Fuck you, you pretentious prick.

  Through my mana sight, figures were closing in. A dozen glowing shapes were circling and converging in my vision.

  Too many.

  Way too many.

  My mouth went dry.

  Fuck.

  We were totally fucked.

  Elias's P.O.V.

  The forest answered Marco’s stupidity with a chorus of howls.

  They came from all around, but mostly from the front, shadows tearing through brush and low branches with obscene speed. Wendigos. Or something close enough that the name fits.

  I unhooked the mace from my belt and dropped my backpack. Then stepped forward.

  “Hold!” I barked, even as my pulse spiked. These things were not gorges. Speed alone made them lethal.

  Slow them. Break the rush. Kill fast.

  One of them burst from the undergrowth straight towards us, dropping to all fours mid-stride. Hooves in the back, claws in the front, spine bent wrong for anything that called itself natural. It was fast. Too fast.

  I wasn’t slouching either.

  Hex first. Speed and coordination, layered together as it crossed twenty metres. The curse latched on with a wet resistance, like pushing fingers into cold clay. The creature jerked, its gait stuttering for half a heartbeat.

  That wasn’t enough to down it.

  Arcane Dart, already formed, snapped from my fingers. Instead of taking it clearly in the torso, it still mostly moved out of the way. It hit on its arm; it didn’t take the arm clean off, but it tore through muscle and bone, shredding the right limb. The wendigo screamed and tumbled end over end, crashing through ferns and roots.

  At the same time, Marco fired.

  The explosion hit another wendigo square in the torso and blasted it backwards in a spray of dirt and bark. It was impressive. It was also more show than anything. The thing rolled, snarled, and started getting back up.

  Melissa’s mana ray struck a third.

  It… pierced the skin, but that’s it.

  “Melissa!” I shouted without looking back. “Barriers! Support only!”

  She flinched, but she obeyed.

  The first wendigo was already scrambling upright, one arm ruined, but its rage was intact. I hexed it again, stacking coordination and speed, then poured Malign Intensification through the curse, enhancing it. The creature lurched forward, clumsy now, balance off and movements jagged.

  I waited.

  When it reached five metres from me, I drove an Arcane Blast I was preparing between its legs.

  The explosion was small but precise. Both hind limbs shredded. The wendigo collapsed in a shrieking heap barely two metres from me.

  I stepped in, swung the mace, and brought it down on its remaining good arm.

  Crack.

  The angle it bent at afterwards was wrong in a way that satisfied me.

  With the creature disabled, I grabbed the broken limb and dragged it back into our line. It thrashed, screamed, and snapped its jaws, but it couldn’t do much else.

  I planted the mace upright in the dirt besides me.

  One hand stayed on the wendigo.

  The other pulled my grimoire free.

  The book opened on its own, pages fluttering eagerly. I began syphoning life force, thick and warm, ripping it out of the creature and feeding it into the grimoire alongside my mana. The amplification surged immediately, familiar now, intoxicating.

  The fight exploded into full chaos.

  Four more wendigos charged the front; those will be mine to deal with.

  Alya and Marcus were already fighting one each. Marcus’s was already skewered by two thin spears, embedded deep in its abdomen and chest, but it kept coming. Melissa was desperately holding another at bay with layered barriers, each impact breaking them just for her to create more and keep it from reaching melee range.

  Marco bombarded something further back.

  Mary and Rhea were trapped between us, pressed tight into the centre. Mary raised a golden barrier, and when a wendigo struck it, the creature recoiled, flesh smoking as if burned.

  Rhea, meanwhile, was kneeling.

  Scribbling a ritual.

  I’m sure there won’t be time for her to finish; more shapes moved at the edges.

  We were about to get swarmed.

  No… I won’t die here, for sure not because of Marco fucking Turetta.

  I’m going to skin that guy alive when this is over, I swear.

  20 chapters ahead!