“Stay up there.”

“What is it?” Bobby yelled from the platform up in the trees.

“I sensed mana heading this way. Probably another wolf. Now stay quiet.”

He could hear the gentle crunch of silver-tinted leaves underfoot as whatever it was moved in his direction. Four sets of footsteps?

But they’re out of sync, maybe it’s not a wolf.

He pondered with his eyes transfixed on the shrouded depths of the jungle.

His heart quickened. The green foliage stirred and swished louder and louder. He tightened the grip on his falchion and prepared a stance.

Let’s do this…oh, nevermind.

[Human - tc 4]

[Human - tc 5]

The visitors stepped over the tripwire, which had been primarily set for wolves. Alan lowered his sword.

It would’ve been awkward if they had gotten tangled up on the tripwire.

“Good morning, friends,” Alan greeted, stretching his limbs as he sized up the two individuals. “They didn't warn us about mornings being this cold. That'll be my second complaint to the Universal Council.”

His white shirt was almost as red as his tattered hoodie, and his breath materialized into white wisps of mist.

“What’s wrong with you.” The bald man with a snake tattoo slithering up his neck gave his friend a nod. “Are you out here all by yerself? If you’re down, you can join my friend Razor and myself.”

“Look here, that’s a nice cutter you got.” Razor's faded tattoos wrinkled with each word. The stocky man had a beard full of grays; it was a stark contrast to his tall, bald, wiry-framed companion. “Jungle's rough, ain't it? Gotta have somethin' to even the score.”

The tall man subtly stepped away from Razor, creating some distance between them.

“Oh, this old thing? It’s been useful,” Alan said cheerfully, surreptitiously securing a ready-to-act grip on his falchion. “After all, there are many predators roaming around the jungle.”

Razor looked more crazy than scary; he had no visible skin—everything was tattoos. His colleague, on the other hand, seemed almost friendly with a warm and welcoming demeanor. That is, if it weren't for the snake tattoo on his neck that appeared to be staring at Alan, no matter from what angle he looked at it.

“Look here kid, if you let me borrow that cutter, I promise that I will keep all of the nasty predators away from ya. That’s a good deal, right Viper?”

“I don’t know Razor, is that a good sword?” Viper asked. “Looks precise, it sure does. Could cut once or twice.”

“Yes it is, Viper. Yes it is.”

“I’m sorry…Razor, but I’m a one-man-act.” Alan shrugged. “I gotta keep grinding. After all we have a fruit to find---”

“HEY!” Razor snapped. “Only friends call me ‘Razor’. It’s Mr. Martinez to you.”

“Woah, I thought we were friends. I’m sorry Mr. Martinez.” Alan sighed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Oh come on Rico, don’t be like that.” Viper cooed. “Listen kid—I’m sorry, what was your name again? Never mind. Just give Razor the sword and you can still hang with us if you’d rather.”

"Look here, I'll put it to better use than you, promise. They don't call me 'Razor' for nothin'. And I’ll take good care of it too"

We are wasting too much time here, Alan didn’t say. “You know what? I have a ton of wolf meat left. I’ll give you some to make up for your troubles.”

“Look here, you—” Razor started, but flinched after Viper raised a speedy hand toward him.

“Please forgive Rico. I know we look rough, but we mean no harm. We’re just trying to survive…” Viper paused. “We appreciate your kindness. We’ll accept the food, if you’re still inclined, and leave you to your…grind.

“Why…you,” Razor grunted.

“Ok…ay.” Alan exhaled more wisps of mist. “Yeah, I understand that. I can see how this place may put anyone on edge. I’ll get that food for you, but I’ll feel safer if you stay where you are.”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

They complied with his request. Viper and Razor raised their hands and took one very short step back.

And with his free hand, Alan reached into his satchel and secured several pieces of wolf meat that he had wrapped in a wide, kite-sized leaf.

Shit, he thought the moment one of the packaged meats fell from his grasp. Alan instinctively leaned down to retrieve it, halting midway as he attempted to regain a defensive stance, but it was too late.

The dagger glowed green and seemed to come out of nowhere. Although Alan sensed the surge in mana, he couldn't avoid getting stabbed.

He did, however, manage to lean further down, receiving the wound next to his shoulder and away from his heart.

He was a terrifying opponent. The way the dagger appeared as if out of thin air, along with the finesse with which it moved toward a vital organ, led Alan to believe that Razor had a dexterity-based ability.

Razor started. “I told you to give me—"

‘Thwack.’

Both of Razor’s arms from the elbow down fell to the ground.

“And I told you, there are predators out here,” Alan said, dropping to one knee, supporting himself with his falchion and removing the dagger from his chest. It no longer glowed green.

Blood gushed out of Razor's severed elbows. At first, he whimpered, but when realization hit him, he screeched at the top of his lungs. The sound boomed through the jungle, followed by a serene silence; even the silver-tinted leaves appeared to have stopped rustling.

“YOU MOTHER FUCKER!” Viper screamed.

Alan’s eyes widened. He felt another surge of mana. ‘Whoosh.’ A dagger flew toward him at breakneck speed. This time, it was impossible to dodge. Luckily, it lacked the elegance and precision of Razor's ability; it was pure force.

It whizzed past the same shoulder where Alan had received the stab wound. Just low enough to grace it. The force was such that it left an inch-deep split from the top. The wound ripped open as in slow motion and blood soon poured out of it.

“D-damn it!” Alan muttered, applying pressure to his shoulder with his right hand. He looked up and saw Viper looking down on him, standing dangerously close, in the process of pulling a new dagger from his own bag.

‘Crish.’ Tiny pieces of glass flew everywhere.

A health potion had broken on Alan's shoulder; the liquid oozed down his arm, chest, and back; meanwhile, both his wounds started knitting themselves together.

“So that’s where the little bitch is hiding.” Viper launched another dagger, but missed by a wide margin. The dagger blasted straight through a nearby tree, sending small pieces of wood flying everywhere.

Alan ignored it. He engaged both his Boon of Augmentation and Resonance Reveal. Gripping his falchion, he stood and angled himself to close the distance, the thrill of the fight coursing through him.

Viper charged at him.

Is he out of knives? It’s possible. He couldn’t have bought that many.

Alan slashed down with above average strength, making use of his boon. Viper pulled another dagger from his belt. But this time, instead of throwing it, he held it reversed in his left hand and sparks flew. He parried Alan’s attack.

Metal clashed against metal as their blades collided. Alan quickly realized that Viper's strength was indeed slightly above human capacity, but at least it didn't match the immense force with which he had thrown the dagger.

Overpowered, Alan fell back a step, circling warily. His wounds had mended, but his shoulder remained stiff. Viper pressed the attack. ‘I can’t beat him in close combat, but I don’t have any range weapons either,’ he thought, as Viper capitalized on his advantage.

Remembering his success against the first Thunderhowl wolf he'd faced, Alan centered his sword, gripping it with both hands. At the very least, it would create some distance between him and Viper, hopefully discouraging any further charges.

A frantic cry startled him.

Armless-Razor came rushing towards Alan, screaming as he went; his elbows oozed blood with each step, but it was no longer gushing out. Alan hit the ground, Razor collapsing unconscious on top of him from blood loss. Even as this happened, Viper was already lunging forward, dagger aimed at Alan's face.

From that position, Alan awkwardly swept his falchion around in a horizontal arc, kissing his assailant’s stomach. Viper staggered backward, and Alan felt his stamina nearly drained.

“FUCK!” Viper cried.

Exhaustion weighed him down like a dense fog. As Alan allowed himself a brief respite, an object thudded beside his outstretched, empty hand. Banana?

He shoved Razor's limp form aside, chomping into the mirabanis fructus without even peeling it. Stamina trickled back. A jolt, like sipping espresso after a long day of work.

“Are you shitting me? You’re fucking monkeys now?” Viper circled around Alan, pressing firmly on his wound with his left hand while attempting to steel himself for another assault.

Alan quickly secured a firm stance in front of Viper. “It’s over. Unless you have a healing potion, which I won’t let you drink, you are done”

“Crazy lunatic. Terry is gonna rip you apart. Oh, he’ll come looking! And you’ll be sorry.” Viper’s mouth frothed. He continued sputtering threats for a couple more seconds, his words were punctuated by flying spittle. He knew it was over. He just didn’t want to accept it. Viper launched forward…

Alan won.

And calmly sat down next to the two corpses.

He couldn't find remorse. He couldn't find doubt. He couldn't find assurance that he was the ‘good guy.’ He didn't doubt his resolve, nor would he have acted differently. But... was it wrong that he liked it?"

He only enjoyed it up until he'd injured Viper and the fight was over, but still...

That was the feeling that tugged his thoughts.

He thought it would be harder to take another person’s life. It wasn’t. Had he been desensitized? Was there a chemical imbalance in his brain? He found solace in the fact that he didn’t want to go out and kill more people, but shouldn’t he be feeling more?