Mosh woke in the morning, a slight smell of decay starting from the Prowl Hunter’s corpse. His neck felt stiff from sleeping on the hard ground in an uncomfortable position. He had felt the exhaustion but had tried to continue studying the Soul Cultivation Codex, struggling to read the introductory material for the third time, hoping to understand it better. It had remained obtuse, dense and beyond him. Sleep had dragged him down unwittingly, and though he had not slept in the best of conditions, he did feel much better for it. A simple breakfast of food from his pack and water from his canteen, and he was ready for the day. He decided against an immediate return to studying, instead, he would go out, search the area and, if possible, secure the burrow so it could be a more secure base while he used it.

The outside air was sweet, he hadn’t realised how badly the air in the burrow was being polluted by the decaying prowl hunter corpse. He sighed, looking down at the corpse he had pushed before him to exit the tunnel. As much as he liked it blocking things and helping to keep him safe, it had to go! He grabbed hold of its legs, pulling it along the forest floor, the wet and slippery mulch helping to counteract the bushes getting in the way. A fissure in the ground fell into darkness, he could not see what lay beyond, but it seemed like a good solution for now. The corpse was pushed down falling into the darkness, the sounds of it bouncing off the walls and causing the falling of rocks, sand and loose plants.

It had been a slight exertion, but with his body tier, far less than before his coming of age and awakening. He wiped his brows again, removing sweat from his forehead from entering his eyes and moved onwards, searching the area, trying to find anything of interest, and hopefully no more monsters.

Unbeknownst to Mosh, he was being watched. Six beady eyes in an elongated head with the eyes spaced along its surface above a crocodilian snout that jutted out with fangs showing along the sides, attached to a long, scaley body with six legs evenly spaced along it and a spiked tail dragging behind. It stared down into the ravine, its gaze following where the corpse had gone. Seeing it out of sight and reach, it turned its hungry eyes onto the two-legged creature that had wasted such a delectable meal. Instinctively, it circulated mana around its body, its colour changing, blending into the surrounding foliage, it slithered forward, sparks of mana flaring as it moved, any sound it made disappearing along with the mana.

Mosh moved through the dense undergrowth, the forest canopy above along with buzzing insects swarming him and the dense humidity causing him to sweat and chafe beneath his armour. He pressed on, his spear serving as a hiking pole and extension to push through the bushes. He grunted as he pushed through a layer of bushes, surprised as a cloud of pollen was released. He denied his instincts, breathing out as it approached, reluctant to breathe in any unknown substance. As he did so, he heard a snuffling behind him. The sound of something trying to expel an irritating substance from their nasal passages. He jumped to the side, pivoting as he did so, avoiding the pollen-producing flowers ahead, and hoping to see what was behind him.

His ploy worked, there was no new cloud of pollen to greet him, though he felt thorns digging into the pants of his leather armour. He also saw what was behind him, the large crocodilian body with too many legs blending into the surroundings, its presence betrayed by its reaction to the pollen. He stood in a ready position, his spear in both hands, examining the creature before him. The scaled body concerned him, would his spear penetrate its natural armour? Its head was turned towards him, rows of eyes on him, all sunken within its scaled skull, nictating membranes flickering across them. The slightly open mouth was intimidating, the teeth long and sharp fangs sticking through.

It shook its head, pollen falling off, and Mosh thought he saw a slightly glazed look in its eyes, he circled it warily, noticing what seemed to be a slight delay in its reactions. He examined it, comparing it to the monsters he had studied and been forced to memorise.

It’s a wyrmcroc, I thought those were only further in, or have I been started further in than I should have been? He eyed the Tier 4 creature, wondering how the pollen had affected it. He knew from lessons that its bite would tear through him, it was known to shred Tier 5 materials with ease, and his Tier 3 body would be no hindrance. Its armour was intimidating, perhaps not as protective as its bite was lethal, but he wondered if his spear could survive an encounter with it.

It darted forward, its speed was lower than his and he was able to sidestep, twist and stab his spear downwards, aimed to strike below the armour, at a thin line of less protected belly that just flashed as it ran. His aim was true, his blade striking into the less protected area, digging in, scouring a long line as the wyrmcroc passed him. The belly opened, blood streaming out, his spear getting caught on bone as the wyrmcroc swung around, his spear being pulled from his hands.

Four of its eyes focussed on him, and it stalked forward, more carefully now, not charging, but creeping forward, low to the ground with its belly hidden. The spear pulled free as it dragged on the ground and caught on some roots just below the mulch. To his despair, Mosh saw how the wound closed in on itself. Not true regeneration, but blood binding the edges, stopping further bleeding!

Damn, that’s a healing skill. Forgot about that, but now my hope I could just wait it out as it bled is gone, and I don’t fancy trying to retrieve my spear while it is under it. He reached for his knife, only to have Midkar yell at him

‘Have you forgotten already? That knife looks fine for a low-tier beast, but not for this. You have claws now, and those are the claws of a tier 3 body. They may be shorter than your knife, but they’ll be stronger, sharper!’

Mosh blushed even as he faced the beats. The mutation of his claws too new, he had forgotten about them! With a thought, they extended. They looked to be about two and half centimetres each, razor-sharp, and a slightly metallic gleam to them. He crouched, watching the wyrmcroc stalking forward.

Its snout darted forward, biting at him, and he danced backwards, wary as it retracted its head immediately after the jaws bit down, missing him, but he felt the heat of its breath as he barely moved his leg in time. He swiped down, as he moved, his claws scraping along its head, scouring lines into its head armour but not penetrating. He was already sweaty from the heat and humidity; he did not see it going well for him in an extended fight.

He circled, hoping the wyrmcroc would follow him, that his spear would be exposed so he could retrieve it. His hopes were dashed as it backed off, its body moving to follow him, but remaining close to his spear. Mosh didn’t know if it was an intelligent tactic from the monster or just a coincidence. It didn’t really matter which it was, the result was the same, moving in to retrieve his spear would be difficult, if not impossible.

The two faced off and Mosh could feel the sweat running down his face. A stinging in his eye, along with some blurring told him that sweat was going to blind him if he did not take action. He used one hand to wipe his forehead, being careful to not disrupt his vision. The wyrmcroc moved as his hand moved, its movement coming as his vision was partially blocked. Even with his vision partially blocked, its movement was noticeable, and he threw himself forward, and upwards. The wyrmcroc swivelled its head as he went over it, but failed to move its body, and he fell onto its back. He immediately threw his arms wide, stabbing down with his claws.

The wyrmcroc bucked beneath him, its six legs seemingly going in different directions, creating a chaos of movement aimed at throwing him off. But his claws remained embedded, allowing him to cling to it. He dug in his right hand as far as he could and withdrew his left hand, trying to find something to grab onto that would allow him to hold on better. With one arm flailing, his other arm clinging on through the claws in his hand, his body was thrown around, getting battered and bruised.

Stolen novel; please report.

He could only imagine the sight he would be if anyone was watching. Crocodile riding was not a thing, and here he was riding it like a bull! Though, crocodiles didn’t normally have six legs either. It bucked beneath him, and he could feel his hand sliding within it. He could feel it getting displaced, so he closed his fist, feeling the claws cut and tear. He yanked, pulling at what he could as he was flung loose into the bushes.

He flew off, somersaulting through the air, a string of intestines gripped in his hand and being pulled along behind him, He could hear the crocodile wheezing, a slight keening from it expelling air in pain. He fell hard onto his back, almost losing control of his head, but somehow managing to keep it under control and prevent it from bashing into the ground. He felt his spine crash into a rock, pain flaring as it did so. He rolled, coming to a standing position then immediately crouching again, and stared at his hand clutching at the wyrmcroc’s insides. He pulled and saw them cut off where they exited the body, its healing ability detaching them, most likely trying to mend itself inside.

He watched as the wyrmcroc backed off, and he saw its hesitant steps, its much slower reactions, and knew that he had hurt it badly. He grinned to himself and moved forward, avoiding its snout as it swung its open jaws from side to side to intimidate him. As he advanced, the wyrmcroc continued retreating, to the point he could retrieve his spear. With that in hand, he retracted his claws and gripped his spear in a two-handed grip. He stabbed forward, avoiding the jaws that tried to grab it, the blade cutting a thin line into its neck below its jaws. It hissed, backing further off.

Mosh followed, his spear blade darting forward, scoring more minor wounds. The internal wounds were evidently having more of an effect than he expected as the wyrmcroc stumbled back, its coordination slowly dissipating. As it slowed, as its head moved slower and its jaws slightly closed as the effort of keeping them open grew with the loss of blood and accumulation of wounds, Mosh grew bolder. He struck more often, his blade biting deeper. Eventually, he felt it go deep, and as he withdrew it, a plume of blood followed. Spraying forward, covering him. The wyrmcroc sank and the notification arrived

Darkon Tanin killed. Body enhancement points earned: 4. Body enhancement points to next Tier 9/1000. Evolutionary essence gained: 4, Evolutionary Essence to next Tier 9/100. Evolutionary Potential points gained 4, Evolutionary Potential Points to next tier 9/6600. Evolutions offered: Armoured skin, Crocodilian mouth, Blood bonding

Mosh looked at the notification, at the offered evolutions. He shuddered at the thought of his skin becoming like the crocs, or his elongating, distorting as new teeth pushed out. Perhaps in time, he would accept such evolutions, currently, he could not face that. The blood bonding, he assumed, was the healing ability it had. He needed that, he just had to hope that it did not show too much on the outside and just changed his blood internally.

Blood bonding is accepted, restricted to Tier 3 as the candidate’s body cannot accept a Tier 4 ability currently. All bleeding effects on the candidate will be sealed by blood bonding, time is dependent on the wound depth, length and type. Internal injuries will be repaired at a higher rate depending on the type of injury. Organs and limbs cannot be regenerated, only cuts are sealed and prevention of bleeding internally and externally.

Mosh looked at himself as he felt a burning throughout his body. The few scratches he had accumulated while riding the wyrmcroc, or Darkon Tanin as the Akashic records called it, were scabbed over.

‘Well done kid, glad to see you survived. And got a useful evolution! Good decision to not go for the more mutating ones, those may look good but accumulate too many and you will find yourself questioning everything about yourself as you leave everything you know about yourself behind.’

Midkar’s voice echoed in his head and Mosh grunted in response. He took out a cloth and began cleaning his blade, the discipline to do so entrenched into him from Shiel beating him around the head every time he forgot. As she said, neglecting to clean and look after your blade, is giving your life away as it will deteriorate and rust, and until he got a few circles in until he left the outskirts, there would be no blacksmith or anyone else to do repairs.

He frowned, then thought at Midkar, ‘What happened to you in the Game? How far did you get?’ He heard a chuckle, and then Midkar’s response.

‘I was never in the game. I grew and learned at a far slower pace, but in a more controlled way that let me avoid the pitfalls of the major evolutions the participants undergo.’ He paused then resumed, ‘I told you I was convicted of genocide, a rubbish charge really. I was in a challenge world, think of it like a mini version of the game, nowhere near as deadly but still allowing faster growth than everyday life. I was attacked by a group of Kin, but warped, mutated. Their cognitive abilities had degraded, their bodies warped, bent over and covered in patches of fur and scales. They attacked me, and I defended myself. But the law in the Greater Mileu is clear, if it is a group, all with the same evolution, it is deemed a new species. A ridiculous law, they were the descendants of a bad evolution with a big side effect. Gene therapy could have cured them! This dwelling on accepting all evolutions as some sort of holy writ is a perversion of what things should be! And that is why I was accused of genocide. It did not matter that I was attacked first, the fact that they were deemed a new species meant, according to the law, that I should allow myself to die rather than defend myself. The judge refused to accept that I did not hunt them down after the initial attack. The reality is that they came at me in waves, and I just continued to defend myself. I am of pure Kin; I saw no need to die before them!’

Mosh remained silent, seeing a reflection of the Purists, Earth’s own terrorist movement in him, a movement he had always despised and stayed away from. It seemed his mentor was in their mould, and he did not know how to deal with that. Or, rather, he did. He would ignore that, ignore the mania of his mentor, and use him for what could be learned from him.

‘I have a general question for you,’ Mosh spoke out, wanting to move away from the previous topic. ‘The Akashic Record refers to you as Midkar, you refer to yourself as M’dkar. And the name on the codex had four apostrophes in it. What is that?’

Mosh could feel Midkar groaning but he replied. ‘Your world is that primitive? I suppose it must be since it is still a lottery world. Simply put, as one progresses up the hierarchy, your name changes. Each apostrophe, each letter changed, shows a promotion within the hierarchy. I was a magistrate and on being found guilty, that elevation was removed, though it may be restored if it is deemed I have served my sentence to a requisite level. As for the four-apostrophe name, that means he was a member of the Inner council, one of those to whom the Arbiter’s report. Five apostrophe names exist, but they are so far beyond everyone else that they are more legend than fact. They exist, they live almost completely within the Akashic realm and straddle multiple realities. The likes of a lowly magistrate such as myself would never meet such evolved beings.’

Mosh nodded, sending thanks at the same time.

‘Now, Kid, time to try and get an absorption skill while your kill is still fresh. It would be better if your Soul cultivation was started, but better not to waste this opportunity. Move to the corpse, put your hands on its body.’

Mosh did as instructed, his hands falling onto the rough, and almost stone-like, scales of the wyrmcroc.

‘Good, expect to fail the first time. This is to teach the process. If you succeed, that would be the surprise.’ Midkar paused, ‘Think of your soul cultivation manual, how that said to reach out, pull energy from the world around you. Well, in this case, you are not going to pull the energy from the world, but from the body. Send our energy in, find its centres, and then draw it back into yourself. You can only get what you were rewarded with, and since you used no psi or mana, you will only get body and evolution energy. Assuming you get anything!’

Mosh sank to his knees, his hands resting on the body, his arms bent with his body bent over the large body of the wyrmcroc. He tried to do what the soul cultivation method said. He sought out the wyrmcroc’s centre and tried to find the energy within. He felt its body, he caught glimpses of sparks, of ephemeral whisps that he could see from the corners of his eyes yet remained elusive. At one stage he thought he had one, he thought he had finally gotten hold of it and tried to pull it, to absorb it, but it melted away, disappearing from his perception. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, how long he tried, but he came to his senses as he felt a nudge from Midkar and looked up at the sun now past halfway through the sky. He sighed, he had tried and failed. Still, he had seen something, perhaps it would not be too long before he succeeded.