For two months, the cycle of hunt and reward became Orion's life. Each dawn broke with the metallic scent of determination as he ventured into the wilds, and each dusk fell with the burden of his conquests heavy on his shoulders. He knew the forest as one knows the lines on their hand, each path and hidden glen a familiar friend. His hunts continued, though he now walked a cautious line, focusing on the deer whose cultivation he had mastered.
The deer were numerous, but as the weeks passed, it became evident that the forest was relinquishing its lesser challenges. Creatures of greater power and cunning began to emerge, their eyes reflecting a primal understanding of the world's shifting energy. The cultivated beasts that now stepped onto Orion's path were not merely prey, but adversaries worthy of the worried whispers hunters spread through the taverns of Frostbridge.
The more fearsome beasts that stalked closer to Frostbridge's borders were a siren's call to his hunter's spirit, but Orion, tempered by the wisdom of survival, chose to bide his time. He honed his skills, sharpened his senses, and, in the quiet hours before sleep took him, he delved into the cultivation of his bones. Each day, his bones grew denser, stronger, just as the tree's rings mark the passage of time.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Each deer that fell to his makeshift spear brought him closer to his goal, each silver coin a step towards the blade that haunted his dreams.
The marketplace of Frostbridge became a witness to his dedication. The merchant, with her hawk-like gaze, began to recognize the steel in Orion's resolve. "Not today, Orion?" she would ask when he declined to barter for other wares or trinkets.
"Today, I save," he would reply, his voice as firm as the cultivated bones within him.
As the second month waned, Orion's perseverance bore fruit. His pouch, now swollen with the weight of his frugality and skill, jingled with the promise of gold. The day came when he counted out the coins, each one singing of his discipline and caution.
The merchant, upon seeing his purposeful approach, brought forth the sword with a knowing smile. "For the man who understands the value of patience," she said, her voice laced with respect.
The sword was everything Orion remembered. Its weight was a comfort, its balance a reassurance. It was not just a blade but a testament to his journey. With the sword in his grasp, the temptation of the lurking beasts grew, yet so did his confidence. He was no longer an aspirant in the woods; he was a warrior, armed and ready.
The city of Frostbridge seemed to sense his readiness, the air tinged with anticipation. Whispers of Orion's caution turned into murmurs of expectation. What would the beast slayer do next, now that he was fully armed?