Chapter 7 - Billy the Beetle Slayer
As Billy walked out of the town and into the forest, he tried to suppress a grin. He held his new shield on his right arm and played with the drawstring of a new bag on his left side. He channeled his powers and immediately got a direction: north. He followed his Gift deeper and deeper into the forest, crossing streams and excitedly hurdling over fallen trees.
Eventually, he found what he was looking for: a heartflower. It was an ugly and ungainly plant with large, thick leaves and a red, heart-shaped flower on top. Billy squeamishly plucked the flower, trying his best to ignore the arteries that pulsed and writhed slightly beneath the surface, and stuffing the flower into the new bag on his hip. He was discouraged that he had to spend all three of his copper coins on supplies, but he had already made back most of it with this single flower.
Billy the Guide, guidin’ his way to a pile of gold! He chuckled as he went to the next location.
Billy figured he looked like an idiot, stumbling over branches and pushing past undergrowth, scraping his legs to shit. Still, he soldiered on. It only took him another twelve minutes or so to find the next heartflower. After that, he found the second plant on his list, a firethorn. Surprisingly, it looked exactly as the unimaginative name implied. It looked like a raspberry cane, jutting out of the ground at a slight angle. It was a vivid shade of red and swayed slightly in a wind that wasn’t there.
Billy approached the plant warily, trying to avoid the wicked barbs as he snatched each tiny orange berry. He swore loudly every time a thorn hooked itself into the skin of his hands, as it felt like molten metal was being poured onto him. He swore the pickers were sentient as he stripped them of their berries, trying to dodge as best he could. Hands bleeding, he gladly strode off into the forest towards his Gift’s next waypoint, leaving the barren, hateful barbs behind, his bag slightly heavier.
As he approached his third heartflower, Billy started feeling uneasy. He quickly bagged the disgusting flower and sat down against a tree. He drank some water and nibbled on some dried fruits. Having quenched his thirst and satiated his hunger, he tried to figure out why he felt so poorly. He looked around the forest, but didn’t spot any danger. He channeled some mana into his Gift to see if it would warn him of any impending danger. The sickly feeling came back, but worse. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on what he was feeling. It was like an ache in his chest, right where his Gift was.
Billy’s eyes opened as he let out a groan. He had overused his Gift. He had been channeling it steadily as he walked through the forest. Honestly, he didn’t think he had stopped using it since he left town. It had steered him well, avoiding any dangers of the forest, but it just wasn’t up to the amount of use Billy had been pushing it through.
He laid his head back against the tree and tried to rest. Now that he wasn’t as absorbed in hunting down copper coins shaped like magical plants, worry crept in. He was at least an hour away from town and he couldn’t use his Gift. Not that it was any help in combat, yet. Regardless, he liked knowing that he could at least try drawing on it. He tried his best to lie still and to meditate. He had heard that that’s what you should do to recuperate mana quicker. It didn’t seem to help. Maybe he was doing it wrong, or maybe you couldn’t trust random tips and insights from street kid campfire stories.
He waited like that for about an hour before giving up and heading out. Slightly disappointed that he didn’t have an overpowered mana regeneration stat, he channeled his Gift briefly to confirm that he was pointed in the right direction and then headed back toward town. The trip back was arduous, but ultimately uneventful. That was, until it wasn’t.
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He was swearing at pickers and at the blood trickling down his leg when he heard it. A clicking noise. Billy froze, searching the forest as best he could. He channeled his Gift, but it only vaguely told him to keep going forward. He bit the inside of his cheek while he readjusted the grip on his shield.
The clicking was getting louder. It reminded Billy of the little clockwork toys that tinkers and artificers sold to children. But what would a construct be doing in the forest? Sure, there were rumors of goblins, beasts and other such nasties lurking around the town, but he had never heard of a construct spawning in the woods.
The sound of dozens of crackling leaves made Billy whip his shield around to his right. A whirr of legs and pincers crashed into the enchanted shield, which let out a dull tone and a flash of gray light upon impact with the… thing. Whatever the hell it was wasn’t overwhelmingly fast, but it was obviously smart enough to lay an ambush.
Billy shoved his shield forward as hard as he could, then took two quick steps back, trying to get a better look at his mighty foe. It was… A bug? It clicked its mandibles together before charging in again. Billy tried to spin to the side as it passed, but one of its six beetle legs scored a deep gouge in Billy’s thigh. He yelled in pain as he forced himself to look at the gruesome wound. It went from his left hip all the way down to his left knee. Blood was… Not gushing out. It was a mere scratch. The monster’s leg had shorn through Billy’s pants, but had barely grazed him at all.
The sound of scrambling, chitinous legs drew Billy’s attention again. Instead of reenacting a bull fight, he decided to face the thing head on. It was ginormous, but only for a beetle. It was about three feet long and half as tall. He braced himself behind his shield and shoved forwards and down at an angle, meeting the beetle’s charge.
The beetle slammed against the shield, compacting in on itself. Chitin crunched as segments smashed together and gave way. Before it had time to recover, Billy brought his shield up and then slammed its sharp edge into the beetle’s face. Then again. And again. He only stopped when the glow of the shield’s enchantments started to dim.
He sat back, wiping sweat from his face, breathing hard. The beetle wasn’t nearly the match of the dire wolf in a fight, but Billy still felt proud, exhausted and creeped out. Bugs shouldn’t be on the lower end of the size chart for medium-sized dogs. Or any sized dogs, for that matter. Something about the rounded carapace and the expressionless face, paired with way too many legs grossed Billy out.
Just then, the corpse started to dissolve. It didn’t scatter into tiny motes of light like the dire wolf had, however. It seemed to melt and ooze. As it dissolved, it left behind a sheet of beetle chitin and a jar of jelly. Billy frowned as he picked up the jar. It had a white and green checkered lid and a small tag attached with a bit of twine that read “Beetle Jelly - nature’s perfect treat!” He shuddered as he put it in his bag along with the sheet of chitin.
As he headed back towards town, Billy the Beetle Slayer limped, grumbling at his injured leg. It wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought it was, but it was still annoying, nonetheless, and slowed him down significantly. After half an hour of swearing, he sat down against a tree and ate the rest of his rations. Still hungry, he warily eyed the jar of beetle jelly in his bag. As he picked up the jar, he channeled his Gift. No warnings. With a shrug, the boy popped open the container, dipped his finger in and tasted a dollop.
He made a face as soon as he tasted the jelly. It tasted like honey mixed with soap. Or, better yet, honey scented soap, since it really wasn’t sweet enough to be classified as honey. Oddly enough, however, his leg gradually stopped hurting. He looked down and found that there was no trace left of the scratch that had been there, or of the dozens of other little scratches that had accumulated from bumbling through the forest. Come to think of it, the remaining wounds from his fight with Jared were also healed.
Billy’s eyes widened as he realized what he had looted. It was some sort of healing salve. Jelly of healing. Mamma Pam’s Healing Jams. Maybe it was supposed to be applied to the wound instead of eaten and that was why it tasted awful. Or it was, indeed, supposed to be eaten, it just had the downside of tasting like punishment. Either way, he tucked it away for an emergency and resolved not to waste it.
Feeling refreshed, Billy stood. With a newly oiled spring in his step, he bounded off towards town.