Well, that sucked, John thought as his and Shimmerfang's combined effort finally succeeded to push the mutilated corpse lying on top of him to the side.

Two hours ago, he used Feral intuition and identified a car-sized beast sitting on top of a four-meter-high boulder as a member of the D-grade species with a small star, called Suntouched Blazewing. Its vulnerabilities were similar to its smaller cousins, the Bladewings, which gave John confidence for a clean kill.

Next, he began a careful cleanup of a large area around the beast's nest, and only after killing everything in a sufficient radius did he risk engaging it.

He planned to focus everything in the opening salvo on its right wing with the idea to cripple its mobility and prevent it from taking flight. Unfortunately, it proved to be entirely the wrong approach, as after its angry screech it jumped down from its nest and rushed him beak-on.

What he envisioned to be a careful encounter with crippling its wings and slowly kiting around its nest, turned into a horrific battle of attrition. The bird moved much faster than any other creature he had seen, and within two seconds collided with his body, tossed him on his back, and enveloped him with its uninjured wing in what felt like a bear hug. Next, it ignited its body in bright-yellow flames and tried to burn him to a crisp.

Luckily, its body only reached his chest and despite being buried under a large pile of burning feathers, his head and right arm remained safe. A quick reaction allowed him to resummon his javelin and lodge it in an awkward position under its neck in time to prevent the beast from crawling over his head.

What followed was a tug-of-war between his heat resistance and the Blazewing's toughness. Unfortunately for the bird, its strategy was also flawed, because the combination of the Champion of the Fourfold Crucible, black blood, and high Vitality carried John to victory.

His reward, two piles of yellow ash. The cost, burns covering a significant part of his body and his entire set of clothing burnt to a crisp. The only items that made it out were the grey chainmail, and surprisingly, the long mantle that he wore on his back.

That was how John ended up on his back and staring into the inquisitive eyes of the Shimmerfang.

It sniffed his charred right side, shook its head in disgust, and lightly nudged him with its scaly head.

"Yeah, yeah, don't worry about me. I just need a little rest," John spoke in a soothing voice despite the stinging pain all over him. "Better take care of its remains," he pointed with his right arm toward the broken heap of bright-yellow feathers, and as if the Shimmerfang could understand, it hopped over him and got to work.

Propping himself to a sitting position, he observed the damage his body was forced to withstand. Luckily, in the heat of battle, he managed to shift his hips to the side, protecting his most vulnerable parts from direct contact and having the worst burns only on his right side.

Those areas were a stark contrast to the rest of his skin. Where the scorching heat had made direct contact, his flesh appeared charred and blackened, the surface cracked and rough. However, the presence of his black blood brought an intriguing element to the scene.

It pooled around the edges of the burns and formed a thin protective layer. This viscous substance clung to the damaged skin, sealing off the wounds and preventing further bleeding. A glossy black coating that slightly reflected the setting sun above his head.

While the burns themselves were devastating, his current constitution was miles ahead of an average human and he was able to crawl to the large boulder that served as the bird's nest.

Choosing a spot on the far side to hide from prying eyes, he closed his eyes and focused inwards.

Let's see…

Finding this attempt to open the archway significantly easier, he didn't let the pain distract him and after eight minutes of concentrated effort successfully pulled the entrance into this trial.

Crawling through, he appeared in the middle of the endless darkness that the System called Bastion. Next to him, rack upon a rack of expansive articles of clothing.

"Oh, I completely forgot about this," he chuckled as he looked at his butt-naked form.

He was currently only wearing half-melted boots, a charred belt, mantle on his back, and the chainmail that uncomfortably clung to the melted skin on his side.

First, a quick visit to Al'drul, then a rest in the inn.

Clipping his stiletto to his side, but leaving the remaining minions outside, he pushed himself up, slowly limped through the glass door of the Al'drul's emporium, and was greeted by a tired sigh.

"John, I understand that you didn't know, but what you did was a terrible mistake."

"Huh? What have I done?"

"You see, all of us, Patrons, are observing the trials for potential candidates to pick under our wings, and for obvious reasons, most of our attention is directed to the Honoring of the First Hunt. By opening the archway, you have shown the trial-breaking flexibility and uniqueness of your shelter. Luckily, it wasn't apparent that it led into Bastion, but you have painted a massive target on your back nonetheless."

"But… Fuck… What should I do?"

"I am going to bend the rules by saying this, but first consolidate and then push forward with your Bastion. I've set in motion a certain chain of events to give you an edge, but your current actions will complicate things in the future. I…" seeing Al'drul wince, John understood, this was all he would get.

"I am not sure I understand. I… Can you tell me if pushing my Vitality into a D-grade would help with my current situation?"

"It would."

"Ok," John nodded and opened his deck. Doing a quick math, he added everything together and cursed. Those two cards would require almost everything he had.

"Give me both single-use Vitality cards."

Placing his right arm on the yellow crystal, he willed all nine yellows, two hundred blues, and three thousand seven hundred and seventy-five whites through.

"One last thing," John asked in a reluctant tone, unwilling to stretch Al'drul's generosity too far. "Am I correct to assume that Vitality and Willpower cards have no side effects after ranking up?"

Seeing the obsidian merchant nod, he thanked him, and with assistance from the glassy furniture all around, limped outside.

Using the outer walls as support, he made his way into the Desperate Fool's Inn, gently pulled the door open, and came to a very unexpected scene.

All of the tables were pushed to the sides and in the middle of the dining room were six teenagers in the middle of a sparring session.

"What… I… Uhhh…" Slayer of Gorax'thal stammered while the rest of the kids looked like they were caught doing something they were not supposed to.

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"Ehm, what is going on here?"

"I mean… I… We…"

"Didn't you say no one should be here for two more days?" Asked a blonde guy in his late teens in hushed voice .

"I… He shouldn't?"

Despite standing halfway through the door, mostly naked and covered in nasty burns, John shook his head.

I don't want to deal with whatever this is.

"You know what? I don't care. I am hurt and tired, so I'll just go to my room and rest. But before that, help me take off this damned chainmail.

"I… Of course sir." The Slayer walked up to him and inspected the injuries.

"Oh, and be careful," John advised. "My blood is probably toxic, so…"

"I have noticed. Let me put on my gloves, and… there. So, how do you want to do it?"

The rest of the teenagers couldn't resist their curiosity and also walked closer, observing John's injuries with critical eyes.

"What do you think happened to him?"

"Shush Tracker of Witherclaw," admonished the same blond guy, looking at the scrawny girl with an intricate tattoo on her left cheek.

Kids.

Looking back, he pointed at the right side with the most damage. "I think the best thing to do is to tear it off the charred skin."

"May I assume that you are in possession of some self-healing card? Because otherwise, I would suggest carefully cutting the pieces of the mail off instead." Seeing John nod, he turned to a guy in the back.

"Crusher of Saldaris", toss me your practice club.

Seeing Slayer neatly grab the weapon from the air, John lifted his eyebrow at the offered piece of brown wood.

"You might want to bite into it, Sir."

"What!? Why does he have to bite into my club," shouted the guy in outrage. "What about…"

Ignoring his outburst, John firmly grabbed the side of the metal decoration bolted into a wall behind him, once again nodded, and bit into the wood.

"Ok, so on three. One… Tw…" Slayer of Gorax'thal showed both his Strength and his Dexterity, as he suddenly yanked the mail off his side before even finishing the word 'Two'.

John's scream got muffled by the wood, and as he looked down, the mail was freed from the worst of his burns.

"Good, the worst is behind you. Now, we only need… this," a second perfectly angled tug let it loose from his chest, "and… this," another yank freed his back and after lifting his hands, the mail easily slid off.

"Thank you," John mumbled through gritted teeth after spitting out the piece of wood. His side was constantly shooting stinging waves of pain all the way to his neck, but indeed, the worst part was luckily behind him. The boots took the brunt of the heat which saved his feet and made it an easy choice to simply cut through them.

"I'll go take a rest. You," he gestured to the sparring ring before him, "can continue with whatever you were doing before I got here."

Back in his room, he used his stiletto to cut through the boots until they fell apart, climbed into the large bathtub filled with warm water, used both Vitality boosting cards, and fell asleep.

It took only a couple of hours for his worn-out body to fully rest, and as he came out of the dreamless sleep, he found himself neck-deep in black water.

Sniffing, he couldn't smell anything in particular, as if the herbs scenting the water vanished.

Hmm, let's see how bad it is.

Lifting himself, he noticed pristine white patches of skin formed all over the previously charred places, forming a stark contrast to the otherwise healthy-white tone.

The only spots that were not yet fully healed were on his side, but even there, all that was left were three palm-sized spots covered in black blood.

Stepping out, he tossed the filthy chainmail and his mantle into the cleaning box and opened up his deck. There was one other card he could finally use and there was no reason to keep holding on to it. Pulling out the yellow single-use card for boosting Vitality, he smiled and willed for it to be used.

"Ehh, did it work?" He spoke out in confusion, before remembering that the halfway points showed no uncomfortable side effects after their use.

Well, let's see, he thought as he focused on his main body.

[John Miles {E⋆}

Strength: E (30), Perception: E (20), Vitality: D (55)

Fate: D (70 + 1)

Dexterity: E (20), Focus: E (20 + 5), Willpower: E (20)]

Good, now I should grab something to eat and get back to the trial.

After tossing both the chainmail and the mantle over his shoulder and tying a towel around his waist to protect his modesty, he easily descended the stairs and came upon a similar scene. The youths were divided into two groups of three with two sparring and the third observing for any mistakes.

Damn, they are vicious.

They were using blunt weapons, but the sharp cracks of wood hitting wood echoed through the whole inn.

The girl with the tattoo on her cheek feinted left, baiting an improper response from her sparring partner, and delivered a nasty smack on his right thigh.

Ouch, that's gonna be a bigass bruise.

Them noticing John step out from the stairwell brought the session to a halt, and after a hushed excuse, Slayer walked to him.

"I must say, I did not expect you to be up so soon. You have a very good constitution, I am impressed," he said as he eyed his mostly recovered side. "Are you interested in something to eat? Despite my previous lack of knowledge of your visit, I have a wide variety of dishes to offer."

Nodding, John headed to the closest table next to the wall. "Something simple will suffice. Maybe something similar to a chicken?"

"Of course. And thank you for letting us practice here. I apologize for not letting you know sooner, but my friends needed a place to train, and…"

"It's alright," John assured, "I have no problems with you using the place for training. Besides, the place is too big for only one customer."

Seeing the youth's relieved sigh as he ran toward him with a plate filled with food made him chuckle.

"Sir John, if I may ask, what did the beast that burned you look like?" Asked the girl with the tattoo.

"Hm? Oh, it was a big yellow bird that set itself aflame. Suntouched Blazewing."

Seeing the wide eyes and more than one mumbled curse, he noticed Slayer of Gorax'thal trying and failing to cover a wide grin.

Am I missing something?

He looked between them, and when one of the most disgruntled kids pulled out a pile of blue ash and placed it on the Inn's counter it clicked.

They were betting on what beast got to me.

Noticing that he was discovered, Slayer scratched his head in embarrassment but pocketed the total pile nonetheless.

"I'll have you know, that perhaps I got off the fight badly injured, but…" he shut up and glanced at his right palm where there was a tattoo of a yellow bird with a small star underneath it.

That cheeky bastard.

"But what? You can't leave your deed only half-told." Whined the youngest of their group who looked like a fifteen-year-old professional athlete.

"Hmm, how about I'll let the Slayer of Gorax'thal finish the rest of the story for me."

With the back of his hand on display, It didn't take long for the rest of them to connect the dots and pile on the poor guy in the affronted comradery only a lifelong group of friends can.

After finishing up the meal, he thanked the slightly beat-up Slayer for a wonderful meal and left them to their training.

First, new clothes and then back to the trial.

It felt utterly ridiculous wearing the perfectly clean, top-end, clothes back into the trial, but beggars can't be choosers and that was the only set he had.

Stepping out of the Archway, he was greeted by the silence and darkness of the night. The only sound he caught was a soft exhale somewhere to his left, and after walking around the boulder, he found the entire pack of Shimmerfangs huddled together and sound asleep.

Maybe not as sound asleep, he clarified for himself. The Adolescent one opened its left eye and lazily snorted steaming hot air in his direction.

Isn't he slightly smaller than before? And was he always this yellow?

Focusing on his curled-up form, John was shown another surprise.

[Suntouched Shimmerfang {D}]

Woah, that guy is becoming a force to be reckoned with.

Because he was easily able to navigate in the dead of night, John left the pack to their rest and got to work. There were still more than two-thirds of the way left, and he was ready to push forward.