AEGIS RESTORED
Atlas shuddered as the red faded from his eyes, colour returning to the world once more. On his status screen a single sliver of red appeared.
His lifeline was restored, even if he wasn’t. Every movement sent spasms of pain up his torso, every step was harder than the one before.
He kept walking anyway. One foot forward, then the other. Ignore the ache in his chest, ignore the pain in his legs. Ignore the dread of being injured and alone in a wood where even the rabbits were predatory.
That first pack had taken most of his health - or shield, as he now understood it - and he’d had a weapon then. Now he had a choice between a rock that couldn’t sharpen and a knife that couldn’t stab.
Thunder rumbled overhead, and the first drops of rain started to drip down through the canopy into the shadowy forest floor. How long had he been off the path now? Long enough for it to start getting dark, though whether from the storm or the time he didn’t know. He hadn’t heard the boar for awhile at least. Hopefully he’d left it far behind by now.
The bushes in front of him rustled, and a grand white stag with silver antlers stepped into view, clearly visible despite the gloom as though bathed in a light that illuminated it, but nothing else.
Atlas froze midstep. He’d seen predatory bunnies, he didn’t have much faith that this was some peaceful forest critter. He tapped his wrist, the scanning beam licked over the beast’s feet.
SCAN SUCCESSFUL
NEW CODE ACQUIRED [Vortex]
The stag startled, seemingly noticing him for the first time. Atlas dropped into a defensive stance as its antlers glowed brighter, ready to dive behind a tree if it charged.
The deer lowered its head, a swirling orb of faint green light spun into being between its horns, sucking up leaves from the floor before launching towards him at breakneck speed. Atlas raised his arms just in time to block, the impact sending him skidding backwards as the sphere dissipated, dropping its payload fluttering back to the forest floor once more.
AEGIS BROKEN
Atlas’ vision turned red once more. He clutched his side, gasping at the heinous feeling of vulnerability as much as the shock to his damaged ribs. The white stag was already gone. He could see no sign of it between the trees, despite its apparent glow. He’d never even had a chance for the identification text to pop up so he had no idea what it had been.
And what the heck was that glow? Or the wind ball? Atlas rubbed his head. The Scylla and that deer were both clearly something out of the ordinary, even compared to the local megafauna. Was it something to do with their codes? The Scylla’s abyss code and the creeping darkness that followed him, the stag’s vortex code and that ball of air. Atlas grabbed a still falling leaf from the air, peering at it curiously.
MATERIAL LOGGED
Atlas sighed, squinting at his status screen. It was hard to see now it was various shades of red on red, but one thing was for certain. He didn’t have the MP spare to experiment either way. It had decreased to half by the time his Aegis had recovered last time, and was now visibly creeping down once more. If he zeroed his MP while recovering, it would leave him in this exposed condition even longer. At least he’d almost gained another scanning level.
Atlas resumed limping through the woods once more, a little slower than before as the rain continued to drip from above.
Fortunately his Aegis had fixed itself once again by the time Atlas found the path. Or a path at least. Once he was sure the boar wasn’t following he’d tried to keep travelling in a straight line as best he could while navigating the dimly lit forest in a direction he imagined, more by faith than any evidence, to be more or less the way way as the path had been going before. For all he knew either the path had changed directions or he had and he was now on some lonely track leading even deeper into the woods.
It was an improvement either way. Out from beneath the canopy was still brighter, clearer and going to be a lot easier on his aching body than the dark undergrowth overgrown with its thorns and bushes. And if it didn’t turn out to be the right direction, he could always turn around at the next sign post. Assuming he could see it. Even out on the road it was pretty dark. He sheltered beneath the edge of the treeline, watching the pelting rain turning the surface to muddy paste. He was probably going to have to do something about his clothes before going out into that.
Lightning crackled across the sky above, painting the pathway white for a moment. Atlas counted silently for the thunder. About a minute. That was… four miles or so? He couldn’t remember the speed of sound, but since he had no way of telling the time, no idea how far a mile was, and no idea if the speed of sound was even constant in this atmosphere compared to the rough figure that popped into his head, that didn’t really matter. All he knew was that the weather was bad, and probably going to get worse in the near future.
Anyway. Atlas scanned his arm and his outfit reformatted itself, now clean, dry, and intact once more despite his trek through the woods. He tried hard not to think about where the water went as he fixed his collar and navigated to his equipment screen.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
[Waterproof Sack]
A LARGE BURLAP SACK FASTENED WITH STRING.
TREATED WITH SLIME JELLY, WATER JUST ROLLS OFF.
SORT OF SMELLS.
Whatever obnoxious force was responsible for creating descriptions wasn’t wrong about the smell. Atlas wrinkled his nose as the bag came into being already clutched in one hand. Still, it was better than pneumonia. He quickly unfastened the string and shook the bag out, converting it into a crude poncho before tying it in place with the string. He twirled before nodding in satisfaction. Give him a few days he could definitely get used to the smell. Maybe if he found another jelly code he could convert the rest of his clothes. They already smelled pretty musty after all.
Hm. Atlas tapped a finger to his lips as he stepped out into the rain, his poncho performing just as well as advertised in both aspects as he squelched down the muddy path. He had more codes than he had items right now, so he could swap them freely if he had the MP. Which… he will didn’t. Atlas kicked a rock down the path with a grunt. It splashed twice off the surface before stopping with a metallic clang.
Atlas raised an eyebrow. Had he offended some metal shelled forest emu now? After waiting a moment - with his luck lately that wasn’t an entirely impossible scenario - he walked towards where he’d heard the sound, squinting through the gloom as he reached down to investigate.
MATERIAL LOGGED
Oh. Right. Atlas sighed, flicking water from his hair as he straightened once more. Or he could check a menu description, he supposed.
Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating the road ahead. The thunder came quicker that time, but Atlas had forgotten to count. The scene of devastation ahead consumed all his attention. Fallen trees criss crossed the path, husks of shredded metal and fragmented blades littered the floor about a covered wagon, two of its wheels shattered and scattered amongst the metal.
No bodies anywhere, not even bones. Atlas crept forward. Even some things he was pretty sure weren’t even close to edible appeared well checked by jagged teeth of extraordinary size. And recently too, none of the metal was rusty. Atlas ran his finger over the slick leather of the wagon, grabbing its sturdy frame for support as he stepped inside.
Empty. A few splinters of wood where the side had cracked, and a gaping hole in the fabric above that, edges flapping freely in the wind. Rain sprayed freely through the gap,pattering softly against the wood.
Was this the boar’s handiwork? Atlas hunkered down out of the rain for a moment while he thought.
It seemed pretty unlikely that there were multiple man-eaters in this neck of the woods. He’d been walking all day, though not in a straight line, so he’d probably covered… forty miles? Fifty? The boar was “highly territorial” according to its description, and big enough that it probably roamed ten times that far looking for food. It was doubtful it would tolerate the presence of another large predator within that territory.
Lightning cracked overhead. Atlas froze, thankful he was hidden in the shadow of the wagon. There, plodding heavily down the path from the opposite direction was the Calydonian Boar itself. There was no sign of the mattock, just a gaping void it its absence.
Atlas dropped lower inside the wagon already raising his bracer. His red bar was barely above zero, blue barely over quarter of a bar, still nowhere near recovered. He probably wasn’t going to be coding his way out of this one, assuming that it would even help. It wasn’t as though he could whip up some horses to pull the wagon even if he managed to fix it.
He tapped the equipment menu, keeping the screen concealed below his poncho as he worked. Whetstone… useless. Waterskin… probably the most interesting thing he owned, but not particularly helpful in this case, he had more than enough water available. All he had was the dive knife. Atlas equipped it with a grimace, glancing at the code as an afterthought. It might still be rusty and blunt, but he could try to give it a point at least.
[Vortex] x1
[Broken] x4
[Beast] x2
[Wild] x1
[Abyss] x1
Hm. Atlas sneaked a peak through the wagon flaps. The boar was close, he was running out of time. He tapped in “Beast” and saved. Thunder rolled overhead.
[Dull Hunting Knife]
A ONCE SHARP BLADE DULLED BY USE.
ONE OF A HUNTER’S MOST IMPORTANT TOOLS.
HAS A SERRATED EDGE AND COMPASS FOR THE WILDMAN ON THE GO.
Better than nothing. Atlas snatched it from the air and pressed against the side of the wagon. Lightning flashed through the gap in the side of the canvas. Atlas held his breath as the boar’s hooves slurped through the mud, its rattling breath audible even over the pounding rain.
Closer.
It splashed through a muddy puddle. Atlas glanced around. The bows holding the canvas seemed pretty sturdy, but the shattered wall of the wagon showed how little they might help. He wasn’t sure if they’d hold out if it overturned either. Thunder rumbled over him.
Closer.
He could hear how laboured its breathing was. Between his mattock and the spear in the side of its chest the mighty beast was on its last legs, even if it was still more than capable of taking him with it.
Closer.
Lightning flashed again. Atlas glimpsed the beast’s flank. It was passing him by. Atlas slowly released the breath he’d been holding.
The boar stopped, nostrils the size of Atlas’ head flared as it snorted, turning this way and that.
His poncho. Atlas drew away from the flap, a stream of epithets running through his head as it snuffled towards the wagon. He raised his knife, flipping the blade in reverse as he crept back into the wagon, trying to stay silent.
The boar grunted, nosing the flaps aside as it pushed its head into the wagon, seeking the pungent smell. There, crumpled on the floor of the empty wagon, was a crumpled square of cloth.
Atlas heaved himself to the top of the wagon gasping with pain as he perched for a moment at the edge of the slippery leather, the reinforced wooden bow bending slightly under his weight. The wagon rocked beneath him, almost unseating him as the boar tried to reach the object of its interest within. Thunder boomed all around him.
Now.
Atlas launched himself forward. Bows cracked beneath his feet as he stepped between them towards the boar’s back, and he leapt for the boar, arms outstretched, knife between his teeth.
He caught the spear in both hands, his bodyweight wrenching the weapon heavily inside the wound. The boar released a deafening squeal of pain and surprise, dragging the wagon with it as it tried to pull free.
TOOL LOGGED
[Scorched Spear]
Hot liquid joined cold rain spraying over him from what was suddenly a gaping hole in its chest. Atlas fell heavily to the floor, falling heavily on his side as the boar tossed the wagon off its head, sending the vehicle crunching into the darkness. He dragged himself backwards as it turned towards him, its hoof missing his leg by a hair. Atlas found himself face to gargantuan face with the boar, its foul breath hot on his face, its jaw lolling open wide enough to swallow him hole ...
With a deep and final moan, the Calydonian Boar fell sideways into the mud.
Atlas still couldn’t think of a one-liner.