The crystal tendrils squirmed through Christoph’s hand, bursting out the other side before turning to pierce into his flesh once again. He grasped at the blade with his left hand, fingers slipping on the smooth surface as he tried to pull it free. Somehow, the newly healed state of his previous wounds only made the pain feel more fresh.
The horn began to shrink as it flowed into his hand, the bones of his fingers cracking and breaking through the skin to be expelled onto the tree root that Christoph was kneeling down on. By the time the blade had shrunk to half of its original size, the crystal roots had wrapped around the bones of his forearm, cracking and splitting them apart. He screamed as the long slivers of bone were pushed from his arm, the liquid crystal flowing further along until he could feel it wriggling its tips into his shoulder-blade.
Collapsing onto the oversized tree root, Christoph fought to stay conscious. The barrage of pain prickled at his mind, the sharp crackling and dull popping of his bones echoing through his ears. The tree’s bark was rough against his skin, his face rubbing into it as he writhed wordlessly, his eyes slowly blurring out of focus and edging closed. Suddenly, everything stopped.
Christoph jerked upright, patting himself down and turning his head back and forth to check what had really happened. Fragments of bone lay scattered around him, although his right arm moved around without pain or problems. As he watched, his discarded bones began to crack further apart, crumbling into coarse powder before dissolving into the wood below.
Opening and closing the fingers on his right hand, he moved his left hand up and down his arm, feeling the familiar form of the limb he had always had. The only difference that he could tell by looking at it was the gemstones that appeared to be embedded into his knuckles, the four crystals set into his bones through the skin. Christoph blinked as he ran the fingers of his left hand over their surface. It was probably more correct to say that the gemstones were an extension of his knuckles rather than embedded into them. He doubted that there was any trace of bone remaining in his entire arm. Judging from the pile of bones below, the crystal had ejected all of them without exception.
For a moment, he had a horrifying vision of crystals bursting through his chest and ending his life. He forced his mind from the image, but it was quickly replaced with the memory of the unicorn’s brain, a crystal spike thrust deep into the center. Clutching his head, Christoph spent a moment praying it wouldn’t happen. Would he spend the rest of his life as a human unicorn? Where was this god Progress anyway? Shaking his head, he forced himself to his feet, looking around at the bloody mess he’d made of the tree root. The crimson pools of liquid slowly steamed as the forest absorbed it, little by little.
Christoph could feel the unicorn horn inside of his arm, the same warm feeling that the gemstones had given off as he had carried them. Was it possible to absorb the mana it held into his body? Wasn’t it a part of his body already? He held his arm out, attempting to drain the mana from the horn in the same way he’d drain the gemstones before. Instead of draining mana from the crystal, however, he felt something snag, and the energy flowed backwards, pouring from his body into his hand.
Staggering at the sudden hunger that washed over him, Christoph watched as the crystal seemed to flow out of his palm, forming the crude shape of a spike in his hand. Stunned for a moment, he simply stared down at what he’d done before the action registered. Was he really fated to spend his life living as a unicorn?! Breathing deeply to calm himself, Christoph attempted to reverse the process. The mana was absorbed easily this time, the horn melting down and flowing back into his arm without issue. He noticed that his hunger had been sated, if not to the point where he had started at. Channeling man back into the horn, he grew it out once more. This time, it formed the more familiar shape of the unicorn’s blade, a plain handle created to go with it. He opened his fingers and tried to release it, but it seemed that the handle was still part of his body, and it refused to fall.
Pushing his new discovery from his mind Christoph turned his back on the scene he’d created and began to wander down the wooden path the tree roots had grown to form. He had no idea where he was or where he was going, but he doubted it was a good idea to set up a camp on top of a unicorn’s shallow grave. The sun didn’t pierce the canopy often, the gigantic tree tops barely even visible from the ground as they caught the light with their leaves. Even in the shadow of the forest, though, Christoph couldn’t see any telltale flares of magical beasts in any direction. The softly glowing tree trunks were the only source of mana around as far as he could tell. He walked forwards as best as he could and was eventually greeted by the soft sounds of running water.
Crossing over the roots of several more gigantic trees, Christoph followed the sounds until the stream came into view. After a moment he was able to find a tree root that lowered all the way into the ground, and he descended it like a wooden ramp to the forest floor several meters below. Above him, the trees loomed tall. The stream itself was only about five meters wide, a slow flowing river with a shallow enough bottom to stand in. He tested the water before wading in, the cool liquid flowing crimson as it washed the blood out of his clothes.
As the material was washed clean, Christoph felt it soften and come unstuck from his skin, the thin long-sleeved shirt soon no more than a mass of tattered rags floating in the current. He tore it off, throwing it into the water and letting it drift away freely. At the least, he was glad that the pants seemed intact, their slightly thicker material sporting several holes but ultimately still in the shape of pants. Ducking under the water, he washed his medium-length hair as clean as he could, scrubbing his skin clean with several handfuls of sand.
Exiting the stream, Christoph removed his pants, wringing them out before pulling them back on. Were naturally formed streams shaped like this? Looking in each direction, the water seemed to flow in an arrow-straight line as far as he could see. The bottom of the stream had been sand, but the banks were solid rock as well, the tree roots not approaching the water at all. Shrugging, he moved into a rare beam of sunlight and sat down on the warm rock overlooking the stream.
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It hadn’t even been a minute before he was disturbed by the sound of a footstep behind him. He moved to turn around, but halfway through the motion he felt the wind brush his face as an arrow flew past.
“Don’t move!”
Freezing in place, Christoph had a moment of panic at the thought that Quester had somehow tracked him down. The pain of the arrows was still recent in his memories, but before he could do anything the archer came into view. He was relieved to see it wasn’t Quester, but a stranger of some sort. The small silver medallion around his neck declared he was an adventurer, his green hooded cloak and short bow giving the impression of a hunter or ranger.
“Hold still,” the man repeated.
There were several more footsteps from behind Christoph, and another person came into view.
“Greetings,” the newcomer said. “My name is Henry, a silver ranked adventurer from the guild in Starthall.”
An elf? His pointed ears drew Christoph’s attention for a second. Starthall? Had that been the capital city? Christoph swallowed his spit and forced a smile.
“Cliff, you can stop that,” Henry said, waving a hand towards the bowman. “He’s obviously unarmed.” Crouching down, Henry looked over Christoph, his gaze pausing briefly on his hand before he straightened again, taking a step back.
“Okay,” he said. “First of all, if you’re an adventurer then where’s your medallion? If you aren’t an adventurer, what are you doing here?”
Christoph shook his head, breathing a little easier now that the bow had been lowered. The unknown presence behind him was still cause for concern, but he brushed it off for now. “I’m not an adventurer,” he replied. “I’m a traveler.”
Henry paused for a second, slowly reaching his hand down to rest on the hilt of his sword. “A traveler?” he asked. “Your name?”
Christoph opened his mouth, but didn’t speak. If the members of Sacrilegious Shield had reported him to the church and the guild, he was probably considered a target to kill to sight. “My name is Luke,” he said. Luke, the wanderer with a retractable sword and a newly made hand. Maybe when he finally met Progress, the god would claim to be his father.
Henry narrowed his eyes at Christoph. “Tell me then, Luke,” he said. “Why does your hand have the look of the beast crystals, and why are the crystal beasts giving you such a wide berth?”
There was a scuffing sound as the people behind Christoph stiffened.
“I can explain,” Christoph said. “Well, I can sort of explain. I was attacked by a unicorn.”
Henry’s attitude changed instantly, his hand falling slack on top of his sword’s hilt. They must know of the unicorn Christoph had mentioned. Maybe he had accidentally killed something important? Unicorns were sometimes depicted as the benevolent guardians of the forest, after all. Christoph doubted that it had been something like the Great Guardian of the Forest, though.
“You’ve were attacked by the Guardian?” Henry asked with a shocked look.
Christoph swore inwardly. After a moment’s delay, he shook his head. “I was drawn by sounds of a fight. By the time I had arrived, the unicorn lay wounded, and alone. I tried to approach, but it pierced my hand with its horn. The blade seemed to flow into my arm, and I passed out from the pain. When I woke up, the unicorn was dead.”
Several gasps sounded from the group, a party of four people from what Christoph could tell.
“I could hear something big moving in the trees, so I ran away,” He said, giving Henry a solemn look. “It didn’t seem interested in chasing me, so I stopped once I’d gotten to this strange looking stream.”
Henry staggered a little, stepping back to lean against a nearby ledge that rose from the rock underfoot. Looking around, Christoph confirmed that there were four people in the group, each with a serious expression on their faces.
“Hey,” Henry said hoarsely. “We’ll listen to your story later, for now can you take us to the place where you saw the Guardian?”
…
The five of them walked through the forest, Christoph leading them back over the trail he had followed to the best of his ability. The party remained mostly silent as they walked, the four adventurers looking grimly down at the forest floor. Henry walked almost ahead of Christoph, worry evident on his elvish face. The ranger, Cliff, walked besides a tall woman who wore mage’s robes, and the last member took the rear. A stocky man, he carried a shield and sword and wore the heaviest armor of the group. Unlike Ruth, though, he seemed to be the same age as the rest of his companions.
Christoph idly wondered if he should flee before they made it to the scene of his crime. He’d thought up the cover story without any planning, and didn’t have any idea of what he’d tell them he was doing unarmed in the middle of a dangerous forest. Not to mention he already had one fake history he’d fabricated recently. Before he could decide to drop off the wooden walkway and sprint away through the forest floor, they arrived at the tree where he had fought with the unicorn. The others called it a Guardian, did that mean it was something special?
They had approached the tree root from a lower position, so it wasn’t until they ascended the path that the bloody mess came into view. Crimson fluid was splattered over the five-meter wide root, pieces of gore visible atop the cracked bark. Small craters were scattered around from where the unicorn had trampled the wood, and in the center of it all a massive pool of blood was spread in a solid circle of red. Christoph shifted uncomfortably as the sweet smell of meat reminded him of how delicious a meal it had been. Thankfully, the half-evaporated blood meant that his tracks were now unrecognizable.
The sound of hurried footsteps was followed by the coarse noise of retching, and Christoph turned around to see Cliff and the tall woman hunched over on separate sides of the tree root. The armored man turned away from the scene with a clank of metal on metal, and Christoph turned back to check on Henry. The elvish adventurer had fallen to his knees on the bark, tears streaming down his face. His shoulders began to shudder as he sobbed, leaning over until his forehead was pressed against the wood as well. Christoph froze as he realized that he’d done something truly terrible. The wind shifted, bringing the strong smell of steaming blood towards him once more. In Christoph’s mind, he couldn’t think of it as anything other than delicious.