3

By the time he finished everything and dragged himself back to the main camp they’d set up for the time being, he felt like a changed man.

The increase in his attributes made the day to day tasks far less tiring, and with his new skills, they’d even been fun. When he’d normally be exhausted and ready for bed as he dragged himself back to the camp only just before sundown, the sun was only slightly past the middle of the sky.

And he felt like he could keep going for another day.

Vander let out a sigh of relief as he set down the two water buckets and tossed his bag under his bed of piled furs. He rolled out the tension in his shoulders and stretched, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

“You checked the traps?”

“Sure did.”

“The hideaways?”

“Checked.”

He looked towards the buckets. “What about the predators? Any movement?”

“None at all.”

“And you managed this all before sundown?” his dad asked.

“Kind of crazy, but yes,” Vander said, pausing to give his new world dad his undivided attention.

Surprisingly, he didn’t press for more details. Vander was taken aback by his lack of follow-up, wondering why he’d question so hard then stop. Rather than spending too much time overthinking down a rabbit hole, he ignored the whole thing.

Vander rolled back onto his bundle of furs and tried to contain the restlessness of his upgraded body. He moved to his side and lay on his arm to stare at shadows as they danced across the ground. The crisp crackling of sticks in the fire was the only sound to break the silence.

The firelight burned bright lights in the back of his retinas as he thought of Madison and Artemis. Would I have fought for Madison as hard as Artemis fought for Andromeda?

His first instinct, yes. But were that true, he’d have defied the DMHA for his entire life to be with her, fought them at every turn and told his own insecurities to shut the fuck up. Then again, she’d never been captured by a super creep.

She was happy and healthy, innovating the world at her magitek company. Changing the world, one new invention at a time. Combining the obscurity of magic with peak technology.

He’d been a ruffian on a good day prone to danger. A rabid dog on a leash. Sacrificing everything to complete the missions given to him… Keeping the internal clusterfuck of emotions that grew deep in his soul a secret. All of the resentment towards himself, the DMHA, and the Doors—everything.

But still. If Madison had been in danger, needed him to save her, he wouldn’t have hesitated to leave nothing but destruction in his wake to save her. On Wanda, no such instance occurred where she needed him.

For that, he was thankful. Madison would shit all over the DMHA and create a world he wished he could see.

There’s a thought. If I got enough power here, could I return to Wanda and see her again? he wondered, not very hopeful. Before he could transcend dimensions, he’d probably have to be able to at least kill a beast in a big forest…

The restlessness only continued to grow. He squirmed in place, trying to find comfort, but another thought echoed on repeat in the back of his head. A single thought. A persistent thought. One that might answer the missing information regarding his sealed title.

Vander pursed his lips and gave the old man a hard look. The topic he wanted to approach might as well be the ultimate taboo, even greater than talking about The Mad God.

“Father.”

“Yes?” He prodded the fire several times before looking over at Vander with mild curiosity, the telltale traces of a smile on his face.

“What happened to my mother?” Vander asked, staring hard at the old man.

Vander searched for any hint, any clue that would guide him toward some answer, some kind of clarity. This wasn’t the first time he’d asked, but so much time had passed that he thought he could convince his new world dad to tell him something this time around, even if it was just her name. Maybe some kind of description. Anything at all!

New world dad looked into the fire as if to avoid the question, but Vander continued, “I saw the day you saved me. She wasn’t there.”

The fire danced within his eyes, bringing them to life. His attempt at hiding the struggle, the pain within, failed miserably. Vander could see everything as the old man withdrew into himself, the set of his jaw locking as his eyes hardened.

“I’m old enough to know now.” Vander stood up and took a step forward, feeling the warmth of the fire as he moved closer. “I’m almost an adult. Eighteen years, and I know nothing of my mother.” Vander took another step closer and rested his hand against the old man’s shoulder. “Please, I need to know.”

A searching gaze dug deep within Vander’s gaze, but Vander stared back, unflinching, as an eternity passed.

This old man sure is persistent. At this rate, he’ll die of old age before giving me an answer. On the bright side, he didn’t immediately smack me like the last time I asked, Vander mused.

However, his new world dad looked away first, apparently finding whatever he was searching for. Then he sighed, speaking with a level of emotion he’d never before shown after the night of reincarnation.

“Your mother died giving birth to you.”

Vander’s heart sank. He’d thought as much, but something primal screamed from the depths of his soul, forcing him to gulp back a sob. The woman wasn’t even his real mom, but neither was his new world dad. In his last life, his parents had either sold him off or died because of him. Hearing his new world mom died because of him tickled the deepest parts of a child who’d hoped for another chance.

Even though it shouldn’t have, it still hurts.

“A precious thing, she was,” the old man continued.

Vander listened intently, hanging onto every word, and wiped away the moisture accumulating in his eyes. This was the first time his new world dad, the only dad he’d ever truly had, ever spoke of her, and his gushing love was evident in every word.

“Her favorite color was the orange of the rising sun, so the springtime would always make for the best of times. She was always ready to watch the world come to life after a long winter.” His eyes glazed over as he lost himself in a distant time—yet still, he orated a time long since past. “It always amused me how she’d frolick like a child through meadows and climb the wild oaks. She… always smelled of dandelions and lavender.”

Vander got up and knelt in front of his dad, then gripped his shoulder tightly. The old man reached up to grip Vander’s hand in his, staring deeply into the fire.

“She had long dark hair, as dark as night, that fell down to her lower back. She loved that hair. Without fail, she’d be up before the sun, her brush and mirror in hand. She would wake me to a freshly cooked meal every morning, singing her perfectly pitched melodies. I always said, ‘The angels would be jealous of such a voice’, even when she wasn’t around to hear me say it. Her laughter… It was the most beautiful thing, like soft tinkling bells chiming under a gentle breeze. Those were the moments I cherished.”

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“I wish I could’ve met her,” Vander whispered.

His dad’s gaze hardened again. “Vander, your mother was a Zealot.”

Vander’s mind blanked, unable to envision the Zealots as anything other than lunatics that murder children. A Zealot embodying the things he described? I can’t comprehend it.

And the shock must have shown clearly.

The old man shrugged Vander’s hand off his shoulder. Bitterness crept into his voice. “Let’s… go hunt.”

Vander sat there, mouth opening and closing for several more moments. No words came to mind to describe his internal struggle, the guilt of causing his mother’s death; the confusion upon learning that Zealots could be more than monsters.

And to know that there was never a life where they could’ve been happy together as a family.

All this passed through Vander’s mind and distracted him as he made preparations for the hunt. It took him several attempts, but he finally pushed what his new world dad told him to the back of his mind, locked it tightly away, and forgot.

I can’t deal with this right now.

Despite his convincing imitation of a flounder, Vander’s heart involuntarily raced in excitement at the thought of hunting. He banished the thoughts completely and collected his lightly packed hunting bag. His dad was already exiting the copse and entering the forest with his trusty spear in hand.

Vander stayed behind for a slight moment, begging the system to update his status and reveal his final title. No such thing happened, so he followed after the old man. It took little effort to catch up, thanks to his increased attributes and skills.

As they crept through the woods, Vander trailed behind his dad as they walked. The worn path took them deep to the center of the outer layer of the great forest and closer to their hunting ground.

On a better day, Vander would have been made to pick a direction and find a target. He’d be forced to practice his tracking. Depending on the find, they would either hunt whatever unlucky creature caught their fancy together, in the case of a larger target, or he’d be sent after it by himself.

Vander’s steps landed softly against the ground, the boost to the skill’s rank making him even more quiet than his dad. Each carefully placed step made his movements through the forest look like a true predator searching for prey. The reduction to any and all sound he made was incredible.

With the light of day shining down upon the lively forest, Vander couldn’t help but feel awed by the vibrancy of The Snarl. Its violet-leaved oaks loomed far overhead. Shrubbery littered the forest floor, forming a kaleidoscopic view composed of eye-catching hues. Vibrant yellow petals on large stalks, bushes of greens, blues, and oranges. The beauty never ended.

A variety so vast lived within The Snarl. So many things, in fact, that Vander had long ago given up on trying to remember their names. At the end of the day, he knew which berries, plants, or animals would cause him to breathe his last. That was enough for him.

To add to the colorful beauty, small streams ran throughout the entirety of the forest, streaming down from short mountains in the most innermost region. One such stream split the forest near the crossroads of our hunting path.

Up ahead, Vander saw an infant Terror Monkey meandering about on their path and looking lost as could be. He reached forward to stop new world dad, wanting to warn him to go around it, but the old fogie stepped forward and kicked the thing deep into the forest.

What the? That’s not normal.

“Enari sent an emergency signal, we’re returning tonight,” his dad said without looking at Vander, continuing the trek forward.

They descended down into a valley, traveling through The Snarl in the direction of Enari, towards one of the hideaways stocked full of supplies—a nice hidey-hole they used in case of emergencies.

As the valley descended, the clearwater stream ran parallel to our path. Its presence was soothing, making the air smell fresh. The relaxing sound of steadily rushing water almost sounded harmonious.

If I didn’t know what kind of beasts drank at these streams, this place would almost seem like a paradise, Vander mused.

This stream also happened to be one of the only sources of water on their side of The Snarl. Finding another would require at least half a day’s trek around the outer layer of the great forest.

Farther on, they heard the creaking and groaning of an oak sapling toppling over. Unsure of what might have caused the oak to topple, they took shelter, kneeling behind a thicker oak for concealment. The sapling crashed down to the forest floor with a reverberating boom.

Rarely did the forest ever get so quiet. Vander looked at his dad’s back, but the old fogie was already peeking around the trunk to identify the culprit of the sapling’s demise.

This side of The Snarl? What else could it be, Father?

“Let’s just—”

Vander’s suggestion was cut short by his dad’s glower. The old man lifted his nose to the air and sniffed several times, nose wrinkling from the musty smell of wet fur that permeated the whole area. Cupping an ear low to the ground, he listened for several long moments.

Vander couldn’t help but stare in disbelief.

Nodding, he rose and stared ahead of them. “Prepare yourself, son.”

“Of course, Father.”

Vander had long since recognized the ground’s rumbling as a massive Erymanthian Boar playfully sharpening its tusks. Its hoots and haws, sure signs that mating season was coming to an end.

The old man walked ahead of Vander with his spear at the ready, crouching low as he slinked through the shadows. Seeing his old man’s confidence, Vander took the supportive role and kept watch as he crept forward to follow up with the old man’s… very stupid plan.

Vander held his spear with both hands and gripped the familiar wood. His movements made him near invisible as he crept forward, relying on his quiet steps skill to carry him forward while he kept his head on a swivel.

Attention to detail. They could die then and there if he didn’t remain attentive. The heady rush of potential combat pumped his young, untrained body full of the feel-good of spiking adrenaline. Despite the danger and all of his training, the rush was what he lived for.

His excited heart pounded like war drums in his ears.

His attention never fully left the boar as he scouted for third party beasts and kept a watch on his dad. His old man slinked closer with every second.

The rowdy boar’s thick and mangy fur covered it from head to toe, hiding a deceptively durable hide. Drops of water clung to its many hairs, glistening in the light of the mid-afternoon sun. That same droplet-infested fur was the source of the perpetual mustiness that clung to Vander’s nostrils, presumably from a recent venture into the nearby stream.

The beast continued to stomp about with snorts of amusement, tearing up the forest floor as it ground its two pairs of tusks against another unfortunate tree.

As Vander knelt out of sight and within range to strike the boar’s flank, he prepared to strike. With his untrained body, he did his damnedest to keep his muscles from tensing too much. A cramp would be a little awkward during a life or death situation.

Then his dad gestured, the signal to attack.

But Vander hesitated as his keen awareness sensed dozens of small presences moving around him.

Fuckers.

He knew what they were very well and had felt them following behind for some time, but they never followed over the path before. He slowly looked over his shoulder to confirm.

Fuuuuckers.

His attentiveness revealed a very pissed-off death squad of Terror Monkeys.

Oddly enough, they’re fairly cute.

That was, of course, right until they turned into bloodthirsty demon spawns that enjoy rending flesh from bone to suck out the marrow.

Their bloodshot eyes bored into his dad’s back as they began their distinctly coordinated hooting. Fists bulging with muscles pounded against chest and branch alike, the beat driving the death-squad into a frenzied dance. Their brows furrowed with hostility as the intense death ritual continued.

Vander cringed, his sensitive ears overwhelmed. He turned back to glower at his dad’s back, joining the Terror Monkeys in their pissed-off mood. You couldn’t just leave the fucking death monkey alone, huh? You just had to go and piss off a whole horde...

Even pissed-off, Vander didn’t want to see the old fogie die. Not by the hands of these fuckers, at least. However, his dad was too close to the boar to warn, leaving only one choice.

Time to run!

He tore forward, clenching his spear in one hand, and startled the giant boar as he blazed past. He definitely wouldn’t stick along to become familiar with the now pissed-off boar’s pointy bits. Or the pointy bits of the horde of equally pissed off death monkeys…

Even knowing all those pointy bits were chasing him, Vander had to resist the urge to look over his shoulder to see the clusterfuck his dearest dad had caused.

Ahh, who am I kidding. My curiosity demands to be satisfied! He peaked over his shoulder and immediately regretted doing so two seconds later. They’re right on my ass! Bloodthirsty assholes and their pointy bits!

“If you haven’t noticed, it’s time to run!” Vander screamed, prompting his dad to dash out of the underbrush and take off after him.