Everything felt like it was moving fast, not literally but figuratively.

One moment he was largely living off the land and bartering for what he needed with pelts, and the next he’d joined a tournament and seen everyone die.

Then, he was saved and almost immediately afterwards he was forced to leave and go do work for a corporation everyone on the lower rung of society hated. He didn’t even know what the work was, but he did know he had a debt to repay.

Then there was that whole troll thing. Why bother saving him just to throw him away to be some troll’s dinner?

The tournament was obviously a set-up; it was just a blood sports event for the super-rich. It wasn’t even close to being a fair fight.

But somehow they had won. Well, he had won. He didn’t think there was anyone left alive other than himself.

Why save him, though? Did someone lose some kind of bet, or did a fortune teller possibly say that one person needs to stay alive after being heavily hurt?

That whole thing with the trolls made it fairly clear he was meant to be disposable and just die, perhaps some paperwork got mixed up but it was more likely he just didn’t matter.

At least he’d survived and killed the troll, how many others in his position would have perished? Still, he wasn’t feeling overly hopeful for what the future had in store for him.

He wished they got given breaks, right now it felt like he was being swept into a rip current. There was no time to rest because if he did the shackles binding him would just grow heavier.

He was beginning to spiral, so he tried his best to empty his cluttered mind, pushing down the negative emotions and banishing the uneasy feelings as he focused on the swaying weeds and small grassy tufts.

Letting out a sigh, he breathed in the crisp air and closed his eyes, just enjoying being in the moment for a few seconds.

Then he opened them. It was time to make a choice, one he’d been holding off on until he was in the right headspace.

And with the gentle sun on his back and a slight breeze caressing him, now was the perfect time.

image [https://c10.patreonusercontent.com/4/patreon-media/p/post/98731365/72a48bb19e96415ca112961b57af628b/e30%3D/1.PNG?token-time=1711152000&token-hash=s7ZCfs_T_XG5PGMMYYsQohvNmY9TGJYbPwAJQwahqFg%3D]

Just as he’d always done, he put everything into physical. The points he invested came out of nowhere yet he knew innately how many there were and how they worked.

Such knowledge was fleeting however and the moment he was done putting his points into physical everything he knew was forgotten like he’d just gained dementia. It was one of the more uncomfortable elements of the system.

Taking a few deep calming breaths, he moved onto the next thing on his to do list and began the process of receiving a boon.

Instantly he found himself being asked a series of questions, not mentally, but spiritually, as though something was convening with his soul, his true self.

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

It was such a weird sensation that hadn't at all improved since the last time he experienced it. He didn’t understand what was going on, he didn’t even understand what he was saying.

After nearly five minutes of that dreadful, non-stop, invasive feeling, he was at last awarded his long-awaited boon.

image [https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/1209005951596630036/1209006164885512192/Chapter_13_add_on_after.PNG?ex=65e559bb&is=65d2e4bb&hm=b7426f9876024f5a02e774eed7de4848fdf3037a82d1942a56291533c8139825&]image [https://c10.patreonusercontent.com/4/patreon-media/p/post/98731365/424d9478393148c18a418d9d35c1ae55/e30%3D/1.PNG?token-time=1711152000&token-hash=DSa5elzm--rIOfdHdY7JoNit6o-9SYjVosZxI1nHh_M%3D]

It was called Hunted Hunter, and he realised with some dismay that it was going to be utterly useless, at least presently.

It was also very vague; giving bonuses against apex predators was nice, especially since that was probably what a lot of the creatures he was going to go up against were.

But what did it consider apex predators? And how strong of a bonus was it giving him?

Still, after considering it more carefully, it seemed like a pretty decent boon to get. He wondered how long it would take him to get his next one.

He only knew how long this one would take since some fortune teller had used him as practice.

If it was around level forty, he would be pretty happy with himself; having three boons at level forty was above average by a decent bit.

Considering the pace he was growing at, it was also a very achievable level to get soon.

He still hadn’t processed how fast this was; it was insane progress. It was also insanely dangerous, so he supposed it evened out.

In any case, the main thing for him was never the boons. It was the increase in his physical prowess, which was one thing that could never go wrong. Being stronger was easy to utilise and helpful in any situation.

Looking forward to levelling up and getting one step closer to his freedom, he activated Tracking and began to move towards the nearest unicorn.

He wondered if he would get bonus credits for killing more than one, but considering they had only passed him two discs he supposed the answer was probably no.

The plains he stood on were dotted with small hills and large bumps poking up against the blue horizon. Thomel planned to use these to help approach the unicorns unseen.

There was one thing he couldn’t easily fix, however; his scent. He really hoped Volly was joking about how bad he smelled, he wasn’t in the mood for getting speared through by a mutant horse.

Even if they were cowardly, he wasn’t looking to take any chances. He still remembered that one news story about a horse going mental and cannibalising its whole herd and its owners.

Even after nearly a full hour of hiking over the miniature hills and obsessively scanning the endless plains, he had completely failed to spot a single one.

Despite failing to spot any though, his Tracking boon never once changed directions, so evidently they were ahead of him. He just had to keep going.

He wondered if the rift vomited him out somewhere substantially further away than he was meant to be?

He kept telling himself he would spot the unicorns after just a few more steps but then those “few more steps” became just a couple few more.

And then the “couple more” became just one more.

The sun was no longer gentle, it was starting to beam down upon him with a fury only a celestial object could have, Like it was trying to burn him alive for daring to try and hunt down such majestic animals.

Licking his parched lips, he greatly regretted not bringing a water bottle. At least the wind was still on his side.

Finally, after hours of walking and repeating his mantra of, “Just one more step,” it became factual. He had spotted the herd.