“B-bless?” I stammered. “You’ll bless me? I thought you said ‘blast.’ I’m really s-sorry about, y’know--”

The shade’s palm glowed brighter around my hatchets, and the color of the dying fires shifted from orange to yellow to brilliant white all around me. The light grew so painfully intense that I squeezed my eyes shut. The pure whiteness shone through anyway, and the entire world disappeared. There was nothing in front of me but that impossible glow. Nothing behind me, nothing beneath me.

I floated in an endless field of pure white and--

Smokebound Hatchets:

Their power grows in concert with the bound wielder’s soul.

Recallable in smoke form at level-dependent distance and speed.

Automatically return to domain at any distance, after variable delay.

Immune to damage by Emerald Tier or below.

My awareness glimmered with a new connection to the hatchets. Even in that featureless white world, I felt them floating invisibly in front of me. After a timeless pause, I recalled them to myself. Two tendrils of smoke flowed through the emptiness and took solid form in my palms.

The hatchets didn’t look the same. Not exactly. They looked ... better now. Sharper, smoother, deadlier. A little bigger, too.

“Thank you,” I said.

“You will serve,” the wildfire voice said.

“Er,” I said. “Sure. Um, but can I ask a ques--“

“Defeating the powerful will grant you strength,” the voice told me. “Yet protecting the weak will grant you more.”

“Uh, if you don’t mind--”

“A thousand years after we sacrificed ourselves on the pyre of our desperation and love and fear and hope, the summoning is complete. An archmage takes his first wobbling steps. The summoning is complete, but the journey is barely begun. We long ago left this realm, yet you must step forward.”

“Okay, but I mean, if I’m an arch--“

“Step forward.”

“You mean literally?” I took a step. “Sure. But listen, what does--“

“Step forward.”

I took another step into the featureless whiteness nothingness ... and fell off a featureless white cliff.

* * *

Billowing clouds--well, or billowing smoke--supported me. Cradled me. Everything felt ... good. Better than good. Perfect. Time passed, I thought, but I couldn’t really tell. I didn’t really care.

My injuries healed. My aches faded.

“Princess, are you seeing this?” I asked the bracelet on my wrist.

she responded, in my mind.

I thought:

she said.

I muttered.

Though I didn’t really mind her exhaustion, of course. She said she’d sleep for days or years, so I was just happy that I could wake her briefly for a little company if I wanted. Floating in this spectral, healing mist soothed and supported me. And felt endlessly fascinating, too. I mean, what kind of person would get bored or impatient with paradise?

Well, me. Apparently ‘endlessly fascinated’ only lasted a few minutes.

So I checked my sheet.

My Strength was lagging, at eight. Much better than six, but still. I’d caught the various spider-creatures with many blows that should’ve been devastating, fight-ending strikes, yet none of them had ended the fight. Which would’ve killed me, if Princess hadn’t saved my life with that heal.

Before the tombyard, I’d planned to focus more on magic, for two reasons:

First, because magic! Ha! Haha!

And second, because it sounded like the archmage-y thing to do.

But maybe ... maybe I needed a strong foundation in physical skills first. Largely because they were what kept me alive so far. My smoke-power was more of a defensive or utility skill than an offensive power. Sure, it gave me an offensive boost during a fight, but that wasn’t the same.

Plus, an eight in Strength was embarrassing. I’d never been physically weak, and I didn’t feel like start now.

So I applied two points to Strength--keeping a third in reserve. That time, when energy rushed into my limbs and glowed in my cells, there was no pain. Only warmth. I basked in the sensation for a while, felt my weight returning. I opened my eyes, and found myself standing in a forest.

* * *

Trees loomed around me. Birds sang, leaves rustled, and dappled sunlight shone through the high canopy. The same primeval forest. The same exact place where I’d exited the temple the first time, only a stone’s throw from where Oksar had found me. Only a few paces from where the baby puma had sprung at me.

And when I looked closer, I even spotted a vertical tendril of smoke wavering in the air.

“There you are,” I said, feeling an odd sense of relief. “The gate.”

I found myself wanting to return to the courtyard. To the shrine, the fountain, the orchard. Like that was my home. I longed for the safety and familiarity of the temple grounds. Except it wasn’t home. It was just an arrivals gate at an interdimensional airport, the first stop on the journey to a new place. Granted, it was a place that had taught me skills and abilities I’d need to survive in this world, that had touched me with magic and power.

Well, so maybe it was more like a tutorial.

I barely remembered a long-ago Quest that had mentioned finding civilization and enjoying hot meals after leaving the temple, but I knew the basics. Time to step into the world. So I stood there watching the tendril of smoke until it faded completely.

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“Okay, then,” I told myself. “Gate closed. Temple gone. You’re level six now, Alex. Almost as strong as a dire puma. And you’ve also got magic axes and a spider companion. You’re badass. Now get out there and, um, find a town or something?”

Not the greatest pep talk, but okay. It wasn’t like I had any other choices. After a minute, I started hiking toward Oksar’s campsite. I needed more stuff. My jacket was thrashed. It had been in pretty bad condition before Chirotry stabbed me with a hundred shape-changing limbs, but now it was hanging in shreds. My leggings weren’t much better, and of course I’d lost my sandals completely. Also, if any of his smoked meat remained, that would make a blessed change from all the fruit.

I kept my eyes peeled for pumas and mandrills and glass boas ... and felt another awareness piggybacking on mine. I felt Princess sleeping in my mind, which for some reason didn’t freak me out. Instead, it comforted me. Partly because I wasn’t alone. That meant a lot. But I also felt her spidery instincts awake in me. My webtouched senses allowed me to sense the world around me. Nothing could sneak up on me as long as one of us stayed alert, at least not easily.

“Friendly neighborhood hatchetman,” I said.

Then a minute later, I said, “I need to stop talking to myself.”

Then a minute after that, I said, “I don’t know, I find my conversation fascinating.”

Fortunately, a minute after that I found the remains of Oksar’s campsite.

There wasn’t much left. Definitely no food: the place looked like an army of rodents had marched through. Still, after digging around for a while I unearthed a sort of wrap-around shirt and baggy trousers and three belts. I started to fit one of them around my waist when I realized I was covered in soot and spider gore.

I stripped down at the stream and scrubbed myself clean. My tough, fiberglass-skin didn’t mind the chill. I washed my pits and bits, then my hair, which was now falling halfway to my chin, and scrubbed my scruffy beard. And then, I’m not ashamed to say, I admired my body for handful of seconds. I’d started at what, six Strength and five Fortitude? Now I was ten and fifteen, and the difference ... made a difference.

I told Princess.

She didn’t even bother snoring.

I peered more closely at the ‘bracelet.’ The now-nickel-sized disc of her head nestled against the inside of my wrist, and if I lifted it slightly I saw her fangs plunging through my skin into my veins. The punctures didn’t hurt, though. Four thread-like ‘legs’ on either side of the ‘disc’ joined almost immediately into a thicker, colorful cord that wrapped around me.

I asked.

The disc became a spider’s head and the cord widened into like a watch band.

“Ha!” I said.

She returned to her previous shape.

She replied with a hint of warm approval, as if to say that she liked being “Princess.”

I chuckled then wiped myself as dry as possible before dressing in the shirt and trousers and buckling all three belts around my waist. I attached one of Oksar’s canteens to a belt, then added a cloth pouch that contained a whetstone, then a leather pouch that contained twine and fishhooks and asmall knife, and finally another leather pouch that contained gel beads and fragrant herbs.

I didn’t need all that on my belts, but being draped with pouches made me feel like a Real Traveller or something. Plus, I didn’t like the idea of leaving any of Oksar’s intact stuff behind, to molder and decay. I didn’t find any footwear, though. I didn’t mind--my feet were as tough as Timberlands--except I felt a little silly, wandering around barefoot in the woods.

I looked myself over, then tore a bunch of narrow strips of black-green fabric from Oksar’s half-burned tent. I braided them--I’m great at braiding, thank you very much, one of the benefits of babysitting my niece for years--into eight or nine-inch lengths. Then tied four braids around one wrist and two around one ankle.

Did I feel even sillier? Yes, but now my Princess bracelet didn’t stand out. She didn’t look like a Magic Item of Note. Now I just came across as a surprisingly-fit guy who liked bracelets and anklets.

Finally, I told the empty campsite “Thanks,” and followed the stream downhill.

I felt relaxed and alert even though I’d only fought Chirotry ... what, an hour ago? Well, I had no idea how long I’d drifted in that whiteness. Could’ve been days. Whatever: the interlude had refreshed and rejuvenated me. Plus, the forest air was fragrant with greenery and the forest floor was cool underfoot. I felt good, walking along. Like this was the beginning of something. Like after all that fighting and bleeding, I’d reach the starting line.

Endless birdsong tumbled from the canopy high above. I didn’t recognize the songs, or the trees or ferns surrounding me, but that didn’t mean anything: I hadn’t known much about that kind of thing even back on Earth.

After a time, I summoned a hatchet and in the same motion threw it at a tree trunk. Somewhat to my surprise, the blade bit into bark. Huh. ‘Hatchet Aptitude’ made that easy.

With a slow twist of will, I tried to recall the hatchet toward myself.

After a long moment, it turned into smoke and drifted toward me. Slowly, but steadily.

“Damn,” I said, and threw the other hatchet.

I wasn’t as good at throwing left-handed, but I wasn’t terrible. I hit what I aimed for, just not with the blade. I switched between my left and right hands for fifteen or twenty minutes. I aimed at trees and fallen logs, then recalled my weapons in smoke-form, getting a little faster as I practiced.

Then a chill touched my neck.

At a tug on the web of my senses, I noticed a shape in the woods behind me. I didn’t see it, exactly, but I knew it was there. Not a shadow, not a bush. Something moving slowly, with intent, something that alarmed Princess, if only on a subconscious level.

I asked, but she was was still sleeping.

So I summoned my hatchet into my hand and activated Intuit with a sidelong glance toward the patch of shadows.

Intuit: Dire Puma, Level 7

Oh. My old friend.

I scanned the woods in front of me, looking for a place to make a stand. Then I thought, screw this, and just turned to wait for her.

After a moment, the dire puma prowled from around a tree trunk that was the size of a lighthouse. She still looked huge, but ... not as huge, somehow. Not as dire, at least. I’d beaten deathspiders almost her size. And look at me now: full health, full mana, tougher than kevlar, and stronger than I’d ever been.

“Keep walking,” I told her.

She locked onto me with her predatory eyes.

“You’ve got a cub to raise, you don’t want to fuck with me.”

She stalked forward. One step, two steps, three steps--

A shape burst from the bushes to my side. The young puma, his eyes wide, his tail low, raced toward me, spraying chunks of the forest floor behind him as his claws dug for purchase.

Which came as no surprise, with Princess boosting my senses. I’d been keeping all my eyes peeled, after all. I pivoted and swung my hatchet to cleave his skull in half--except at the last moment I twisted the haft in my grip.

The flat of the blade clanged hard against the cub’s head. His legs failed and he tumbled toward me and the mother puma started to charge but I was already kneeing on her cub with a blade at his throat.

The cub growled and writhed in my grip, but the mother stopped short. Her ears went back, flat against her skull, yet she didn’t move. Not a twitch. She understood my threat. She understood more than a cat should understand--and that stopped me. She would’ve fed me to her cub without a moment’s hesitation. I knew that, of course. She was a predator. They needed to kill to eat. And I ... I was a predator, too.

I knew that, too, suddenly.

All the practice in the courtyard had changed me. I’d never killed anything bigger than a raccoon before, when I’d found one dying after being hit by a car. Yet now I’d killed dozens, maybe hundreds of spiders the size of dogs--and three that were much, much larger. I’d hesitated to kill that raccoon, but I was used to killing now.

I wouldn’t hesitate again.

And if I’d had the mother puma under my knife, I would’ve cut her throat without a second thought. Hell, I would’ve done the same to the cub ... if she hadn’t been watching. But killing a cub in front of his mother, when she understood?

No. I wouldn’t hesitate to kill if I needed to, but I wouldn’t pretend that I needed to if I didn’t.

“Not happening,” I said.

The mother cat tilted her head at my words, then went motionless again.

When I eased my grip on the cub, he twisted to slash me with his claws. So I slammed him with the flat of my hatchet again. He slumped in my grip, panting and whining.

His mother yowled softly.

Then she rolled onto her back and showed me her belly.

“Oksar would laugh at me,” I told her. “Some hunter.”

I shoved the cub toward her and took a few steps backward. The mother didn’t move for a moment, then she righted herself. And keeping her gaze lowered, she sort of crawled toward the cub. She crawled over him, gathering him beneath her body, to protect him from me.

“You could give my mother lessons,” I told her.

Then, without quite turning my back, I continued downstream. Feeling the moss between my toes. Listening the birdsong. And feeling ... happy. Happy that I’d handled the puma cub without a flicker of weakness, without getting a scratch. That I’d handled both dire pumas without bloodshed--for no other reason than I’d chosen to.

I told Princess.

QUEST: Find civilization. Enjoy a nice meal. And ask yourself this: what is worth dying for?

REWARD: Minor expoi.

FAILURE: Wander lost and hungry and alone.

I glanced at the notification, then looked again. “What the hell?”

Princess said, rousing faintly in my mind.

she said, and went back to sleep.

“‘Ask yourself what’s worth dying for?’” I grumbled, crossing the stream to avoid a swampy patch. “Slipping that in there like I wouldn’t notice.”

QUEST: Find something worth dying for. That is its own REWARD.