I spent the night huddled in a small cave a few dozen meters up a steep rock face, hidden from the wind by a few gnarled and crooked gorse trees that clung to the cliff like crabs in the sand. Their thick roots wormed their way into cracks in the stone and covered the cave floor in a mass of polished bark, looking for all the world like a frozen mass of writhing wooden snakes.

Despite their appearance though, they provided comfort; not only did the sparse foliage act as a windbreak, but after a while of wriggling around, I was able to find a spot where the indents fit my body just right, and I snuggled into the wooden bed surrounded on all sides by gnarled roots.

Bed might have been an overstatement, as I woke the next morning to an ache in my ribs and a crick in my back that made me feel as old as Jorge, groaning as I stretched. Still, the rest had done me good, and I felt like a new person in comparison to the night before. Stronger, more solid, and somehow lighter at the same time. It was a heady concoction, and I looked out from my cave at the forested hills below with anticipation.

While I was still being hunted – and I had no reason to suspect I wasn’t – heading into the open plains would be foolish. I’d be visible as far as the eye could see without any significant geographical features to break up the view, and I had no doubt that at least Francis could see pretty far. I also knew for a fact that Sven was something of a tracker.

So, I couldn’t leave, and staying in the low hills felt equally foolish. I had put some solid distance between myself and where I’d left the others, fighting for their lives against a large pack of magical wolves, but I suspected they’d close that distance quickly. And again, they had a tracker.

So the only sensible choice was to head further into the Dragon-Spines and hope I could lose them in its immensity. I didn’t really need to evade them forever either. I just needed to avoid them for long enough that they give up, that the costs of staying become too high. Every moment they strayed into the deeper valleys and higher peaks would spell danger, and eventually they would start to lose out.

That was also true of me of course, but I was more confident in my own ability to navigate this environment than theirs. Perhaps it was nothing more than arrogance, but I felt an affinity for the mountains, wherever they may be, and my class was quite literally optimised for survival in such terrain.

Not only did I plan to survive though; I planned to thrive. Looking past the gently waving gorse needles and down at the steep gullies running away from the granite cliff beneath me, I took in a breath and grinned. I was going to get stronger, and once my hunters had been sufficiently broken down by the land, I would reappear to finish the job.

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You have killed a Harmonious Spitter (level 33). Experience gained.

I frantically tried to blink away the notification, even though it didn’t appear in my vision in any meaningful sense. I’d made the mistake of letting my attention be captured by the echoing noise from the system rather than carefully checking my surroundings for more of the weird crystalline mammals, and I was now paying the price for that hubris.

I hit the ground and rolled, feeling the blessedly soft earth compress beneath my shoulder, and slammed my shield into place in front of my torso just in time to hear the shattering sound of three distinct impacts. Shards of blue crystal rained to the ground around my shield, and I threw myself back to my feet and dashed to the side, a judicious activation of Check-Step enough to see me safely behind the nearest tree as more crystal projectiles followed me.

Crouching down behind the many hanging roots of the mangrove, I focused on quieting my breathing, trying to hear anything I could. I heard the rushing of my own blood in my ears, the gurgling of the nearby stream and the steady drip-drip of water from the great fronds above onto the damp mossy earth below. A few heartbeats of careful listening yielded no further clues, until I caught a muffled clop of a hoof against something solid on the other side of the mangrove. I flexed my hand on the spear at my side and took a final steadying breath, careful not to suck it in too sharply and alert the creature hunting for me.

I activated Heart of the Hills then to ensure my excitement didn’t get the best of me, and smoothly rose up behind the mass of hanging roots. My right arm slung the spear out to my left even as I circled round the opposite way, small fast steps covered by the sound of the weapon clattering to the ground. A moment later, when I heard the now unmistakable sound of exploding crystal against rock, I sent a pulse of mana down the artefact link to my spear, coaxing the mechanism behind the blade to engage, causing the weapon to buck on the ground. Another two shattering impacts resounded as I drew around the other side of the tree to see the cause of the noise.

A shaggy creature, akin to the great Tundra Mammoths of the north but far smaller, crouched facing my spear where it lay against a large slab of granite, crystal shards surrounding it in a fluorescent blue light. Two short, equally fluorescent crystal tusks jutted from its lower jaw, and while I couldn’t see from this angle, I knew that its mouth would have been emitting that same unearthly glow.

I didn’t hesitate and charged forwards, closing the few meters between myself and the strange creature in moments. It wheeled around at me, crystalline tusks scything through the air with a whistle from the speed of its movement. My face was cast in eery blue light as it opened its mouth and let loose another volley of crystal shards my way, even as I closed in on it.

Another activation of Check-Step allowed me the time and ability to juke to the right and plant my foot on an upturned slab of rock, partially enveloped by the ever-hungry vines of the mangrove trees surrounding us. I pushed off, hearing a projectile whistle whizz past my face by mere inches, and saw another two pass by underneath me as I leapt up and forwards. Time seemed to slow for a moment as I flew, and I knew it was not the effect of Check-Step, or any other skill for that matter, purely the mixture of adrenaline and weightlessness which allowed for that strange feeling of stillness.

The eternal moment eventually passed as I slammed into the thick hide of the creature shield first, knocking it back a few paces. Without wasting a moment, I followed it even as it staggered back and by the time it stabilised its footing, I was already upon it, arms bunching as I gripped its tangled coat with one hand and withdrew the make-shift dagger from my make-shift belt with the other.

My first stab missed anything vital, and I was rewarded with an enraged bellow and a vicious headbutt from the larger animal, but my second stab found more success. The bellow turned to a gurgle, and as I wrenched the dagger out it sagged in my grip alongside a torrent of blood spattering to the floor.

I raised the curved tooth once more though and slammed it down with all the force I could muster, stabbing deep into the back of its broad neck and feeling the dagger glance off bone. I put all my weight behind a final push, and felt the bone give way, snapping the creature’s neck and causing it to fall to the floor completely.

Its back legs kicked desperately for another moment before it lay still, red blood pooling on the dark earth below and glinting oddly in the blue glow cast by its crystalline tusks.

You have killed a Harmonious Spitter (level 41). Experience gained.

I put a hand to my head, smearing the blood running down my face from the cut on my temple. Gingerly I felt at the wound, but it was shallow, soon to close without much intervention.

I bent to retrieve my spear, and flinched when I felt a sharp pain in my arm. Glancing down, I noticed for the first time the thin crystal projectile lodged in my forearm and winced as I flexed the muscles there, feeling them pull at the wound. Another deep breath, and then I wrenched out the crystal bolt, dropping it to the floor with a tinkle.

I grabbed my spear, surveyed the area to make sure there were no more of the creatures, and then started back towards my temporary camp. It took near a bell of steady hiking through the sunken valley, and I spent the time carefully examining the world around me.

It was dangerous this deep into the hills. I had long since passed through the low hills, and I was nearing the boundary between the high hills and the true mountains. The valleys were now deep funnels in the earth, ridges rising to either side nearly a thousand meters high. I could see snow-capped peaks in the distance, and the flora and fauna were becoming more magically saturated, and therefore more dangerous.

I climbed the last few meters, swinging my spear over the lip and onto the small plateaux, hurling my shield over as well before pulling myself up. The shelf of stone jutted from the cliff, and just like the cave I’d stayed in last night, I found no sign of habitation inside the hollow of stone. Obviously, there were the odd signs here and there of scurrying creatures, small rodents and insects and other crawling denizens of the forest that were otherwise beneath my notice.

I had worried to begin with about the possibility of insect swarms, ants crawling over me in the night and devouring me in moments. The thought of that swarm back in the endless valley, the paralysing fear and creeping dread as they approached, was forever seared into my mind.

But now just as then, I’d been given a tool to deal with it. The constellation of Indomitable Prey hung in my soul-space, a reassuring cloak covering my other skills and core from the darkness beyond. I’d had it activated when I slept, the mana-drain small enough that I could keep it going for a couple of bells at a time. It interrupted my sleep when it deactivated, the slight backlash of having my core depleted enough to jar me from slumber, but it was a worthy trade-off in my estimation since I remained undisturbed by the no doubt countless species of biting nasties that inhabited this land.

I needed less sleep than before anyway, so six or so bells of solid sleep, with a couple of bells rest between to recharge my mana, was more than enough to see me recovered, even considering the intense strain I was putting my body and mind through. I was eating well, with fire-spitted meat to complement the bevy of vegetables I was foraging during the day.

The world was verdant, filled with life, and I had no issues finding sustenance throughout my days. Perhaps things would change if I dared to tread too high – the snowcapped peaks and bleak, barren mountain passes below them did not scream fecundity to my eyes, but it was impossible to know for sure.

I also did not plan to venture that high regardless. I’d seen dots swirling around the peaks and given the immense size and distance of those mountains, it meant that whatever creatures I was seeing from here would have to be truly massive. I remembered the Rooks I had seen in the endless valley and had no desire to test myself against beasts of their calibre just yet.

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All in all, it was another successful day. Another day, another few foes slain, more experience gained, and more power accumulated.

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I realised it then, as I sat halfway up a cliff with my legs dangling out into empty space, the ground a good 50 or so meters below me; I was fulfilled.

I couldn’t wait to get back out there, to see what I could conquer next. I’d already faced bizarre facsimiles of crystal and mammal and scavenged the fang of some enormous snake. I’d seen a mangrove forest hidden within a deep valley, totally out of place with the surrounding geography. I knew - I just knew - deep within my bones, that a hidden world waited just out of sight for me to explore. A whole host of hidden worlds, filled with wonders and mysteries, wildness and danger. And unlike any other time in my life before now, I knew I was equal to it.

I was so strong, stronger than this environment in many ways. I could roll off this ledge right now and catch myself with one hand, hang on the ledge for long moments, and pull myself up with one arm with ease. In fact, I felt the urge so strongly that I did just that, laughing with joy as I hauled myself up so effortlessly, spinning and flipping around like a child that discovered furniture could be a playground for the first time.

I felt the new power coursing through every cell, every iota of my being, and I knew that within my chest rested an endlessly refilling well of pure possibility. Mana suffused my being, spreading through my soul and nourishing the skills that defined me. They had protected me, kept me safe and secure from the world as it tried to impose its will upon me.

Now, I felt in control for the first time. I could choose where to go, and my skills would allow me to tread there. I could use those skills to leave my own mark on the world. Months ago, before I chose my current class, I had been offered choices. Wind Runner wasn’t the right choice at the time, but I was offered it all the same. The system, by whatever inscrutable logic the gods bestowed upon that incomprehensively vast and complex work of magic, had judged me, and found the spark of exploration in my soul. Enough so that I was granted the option to acquire skills related to travel and exploration, of movement through the natural world.

Now was the time to let that side of me out. Rather than wait in the hills, hiding like a scared child and waiting for my parents – or my mysterious old mentor and his merry band of misfits, as the case may be – to come and save me, I was going to grab the metaphorical dragon by its tail and ride it all the way to the top of the mountain. Strap in Galvathrax, we’ve got some fucking work to do, Lad.

I tried to clear my throat in my head, attempting to cover up the silly thought. I knew Jorge’s influence was probably the only thing that had kept me alive this far, but I wasn’t yet prepared to start talking like him, even within the sanctity of my own mind. Anyway, point being – lets fucking go.

With that thought echoing through me, I dropped from the ledge. Wind whistled in my ears, its hands curling through the unkempt mane on one side of my head as I fell. I reached out, grasping a thick branch, swinging up and around before letting go and soaring through the air, now parallel to the cliff. Fingers closed around hanging vines, and I spread my weight out between three of them as I arrested my fall, two eventually snapping under the strain, and the third attached to a branch that bowed so dramatically under my weight that I barely slowed at all once it was the only one supporting me.

I activated Check-Step at the last moment, and managed to push off a tree trunk nearby, turning the slow fall into a leap towards another clump of vines only a few meters off the valley floor.

I landed neatly on the floor, my boots sinking into the dark earth as emerald light filtered through a canopy to bathe my face in a verdant glow. I grinned in satisfaction as my hands released their grip on the vines, wiping off the mud and sap that tried to stain my hands on my trousers.

I almost flinched as I felt the cool wetness against my bare thigh and glanced down to examine the rip in the fabric. Never particularly beautiful to begin with, my travelling clothes now resembled something you would expect a beggar to wear rather than a moderately prosperous adventurer.

Was that what I was now? An adventurer? I looked back down at the ripped and torn trousers, stained cloak and dirty robes I wore…definitely not moderately prosperous in any case.

My clothes’ state of disrepair couldn’t stop me from cracking a grin as I jogged off through the dense forest though, angling towards the nearby stream. I felt the subtle push from my Hill-Foraging skill, now part of a larger merged skill, reminding me to follow the water.

Damp and shielded from the sun by overhanging mossy banks, mushrooms would likely be found at the sides of the stream. Less than a bell of easy running up beside the babbling brook paid off, and I had collected a small handful of fragrant, earthy mushrooms to savour. The taste was strong and not off-putting, but the texture almost made me grimace with each chew.

I overcame my squeamishness though and was rewarded by a welcome ringing in my mind.

Skill ‘Wilderness Endurance Hunter’ has increased in level. Wilderness Endurance Hunter – level 8

A few more bells passed in relative peace, and I enjoyed the quiet rhythm of my boots pounding away softly on the earth. Song birds chirped and trilled, filling the air with a smile. Gentle sunlight trickled through spindly branches as the heavy pines gave way to slim birch trees, resplendent with red and green leaves. It was a gradual transition, and I felt my spirits soar as the light filtered down to the floor more and more with each mile.

A beautiful world to explore, but I did have a goal beyond just enjoying nature. I was nearing level 30, where I was likely to acquire another class skill. Jorge had given me the facts – that each 1st tier class generally gave a smattering of skills when first acquired at level 15, then one more at level 30 and another at level 40, before capping at level 45 and requiring a feat to advance to 2nd tier.

Nathlan had filled in the gaps in that explanation, giving me the why to Jorge’s how. Apparently, general skills could be acquired at any time if the prerequisites had been met, but classes came with set skills that were bestowed upon a certain threshold level being reached. The level 30 and 40 skills – the late skills as they were often referred to as – were generally more powerful than the ones given immediately on receiving the class, and required more mana, or finer control, or just more experience to wield effectively.

Given the system’s seeming preference for guiding and teaching rather than outright bestowing power, it made sense to only give skills to a person once they had grown familiar with their class and path, or so it seemed to me anyway. The problem this left me with though, was that I only had 8 skill slots, and none of them were free. I could elect to replace a skill with the new one I received at level 30 (not a guarantee by the by, since some weaker classes only received a single late skill and so the level that it was bestowed upon could be anywhere between 30 and 40), but that would cost me one of my other skills. I was not keen to lose any of them at the moment.

Perhaps I could merge some of them, but I was in danger of having too many intertwined at that point, and the requirements to level such a broad merged skill would be enormous. The fact that I had a combat class which could siphon the energy from those I killed would somewhat ameliorate that problem, but it was still a concern. I could try and merge Indomitable Prey and Heart of the Hills – both skills had a strong mental component, and I could see the appeal of having a wider view of things when gripped by the defiance that my pathbound skill brought on within me, but there were other problems.

Firstly, I had no idea how to try and encourage such a merge. Secondly, both skills stood in opposition to one another conceptually.

Indomitable Prey was a general skill that had become pathbound, a result of exceptional circumstances and a hefty bit of luck. I couldn’t alter it easily if I tried, since it was so deeply ingrained within my soul-space, but at the same time I understood it on a primal level.

Heart of the Hills was the opposite – a class-given skill bestowed on me by the system that I was still exploring. It was able to be moulded, but I wasn’t familiar enough with the underlying structure of it to really manipulate it properly yet.

One burned hot, filling me with passion and making the world louder to all my senses. With my pathbound skill active, there was nothing more important than what was in front of me, and I hummed with a desire to break out of what was constraining me, regardless of the cause. The class skill was cold, dispassionate; ice in the deep. The world was quiet when I activated Heart of the Hills, and it opened a space between me and my experiences, allowing me time and perspective.

One removed everything but the world before me, and the other put that world back into perspective with myself. I could not see how to merge them without losing one or the other effects, and I wanted both.

Skirmisher of Antiquity was far too new, and I had many more secrets to learn from it, so I wouldn’t mess with that one either. Which left me with three class skills to play around with; Check-Step, Cloven-Hooved and Hill-Folk. It was a simple choice when I thought about it.

Check-Step was an active skill that had saved my life a few times already, and I could see how to advance it in future, as long as I didn’t add in further complications to it. A narrow skill that required skill and familiarity to use effectively, but I could feel the potential with its slight time-dilation and momentum altering effects.

In contrast, Cloven-Hooved and Hill-Folk were both passive skills. Cloven-Hooved was a general skill consisting of Scrambling and Sure-Footed, both acquired by long exposure to mountainous terrain, and named after the many species of hardy mountain goats; LongHorn, Flame-Horn, Ibex, Markhor etc. Come to think of it, of all the even-toed ungulates I’d encountered or read about, most had ‘Horn’ somewhere in the name. How uncreative. The point being that it was a skill in tune with the mountains and hills, and therefore should be in tune with my class.

Hill-Folk was the least interesting and perhaps most understated class skill I’d received, giving me a general boost to survivability and toughness. Broken bones became bruises, snapped tendons and ligaments became strains and sprains, and I healed faster from the many minor injuries I sustained.

My understanding of the structure of the skill also paralleled my understanding of my newly enhanced body. As I learned to adapt to the superhuman attributes, so too did the spinning constellation within my soul-space become more understandable. It was a straight-forward skill, that I felt fairly confident I could alter without losing any of its efficacy.

That both Hill-Folk and Cloven-Hooved shared similar roots was essential for me to merge them without assistance from the system, and something I could only attempt because of the deep understanding of both I had gained by now. I would need to stop tonight, to meditate upon both skills and attempt to create the links that would merge both together, giving birth to a new skill.

The deadline was arbitrary in some ways, but I needed to open up a skill slot before I hit level 30, and each day I moved through the hills I got closer to that immediate goal.

In a twist of cruel irony, the universe conspired to make that thought especially prescient, as the stream I had followed all morning disappeared into the ground before me. I was not particularly surprised, as the open valley had gradually grown deeper until I was treading along the bottom of a gorge. The low cliffs to either side had been converging together slowly, and now it seemed I had reached the end. Cliff-edges met, barring my way forwards, and the stream it seemed didn’t originate from above the cliffs, but from below them.

That was not the surprise twist, although the timing was suspect in and of itself. No, the surprise was the two skulls hanging from vines on either side of where the stream disappeared into the rock. Skulls belonging to some form of stag, or goat, or other large mammal. Curling horns twisting to either side, a long snout of bleached bone, and empty gaping sockets.

As I stepped closer, I felt a rock dislodge and clatter from the riverbank. I stepped aside quickly, my skills ensuring I did not lose my balance, but the damage appeared to be done anyway. A deep groaning sound echoed from the earth, and stones began to clatter down as a yawning cavern opened in the ground. I watched in awe as the earth shifted, opening a mouth to coax me into its belly, carved stone steps lit by green light.

I looked up to see the source of the green light, and saw the two skulls leering back at me, fire burning in their eyes. Vines slithered across the ground, tangling with one another and forming a skeleton around which the very earth – leaf mulch, small pebbles, grasses, mud and all sorts – collected. Within a few moments, I stood face to skull with two humanoid golems formed of earth.

Thin and emaciated they may be, but they both towered over me at nearly 3 meters in height. Clawed hands formed of whiplike vines capped their overly long arms, and their legs flowed straight into the earth itself. The one on the left raised its gnarled fingers and pointed at me, white skull leering and letting out a pained howl indecipherable to human ears.

I heard its intent clearly though and raised my shield and spear into position quickly.

There was only one way this ended.