Foolish. You have no idea what his scouting range is.

“Probably pretty far. But what does it matter? He can’t hurt me.”

If you can run back to your farm first. If nothing wrong happens. The Infinite is a complex place, Tulland. And if he’s shown every card in his hand. Everyone holds a little information back. He has capabilities you have yet to learn.

“I bet. But this is a good enough wager for me.” Tulland leaned a bit further from the thin upper trunk of the tree he was hiding in. From here, he could get a better look at the rogue’s camp. “And it’s worth making bets like this from time to time.”

At least one thing he said was true, though. He is looking for something.

The rogue had so far shown a habit of taking walks that lasted no more than a few hours, coming home and dumping what few animal materials he seemed to harvest in a pit of sorts before covering it with a rock, perhaps eating, and then moving out again.

Following him was not an option, or at least not a safe one. Tulland eventually confirmed that the rogue couldn’t see him from a distance, so long as he was holding still. He was reluctant to test the limits of that, and mostly let the man go on his walks unmonitored.

When Tulland did learn more about what he was up to, it was on accident. Tulland was sticking tight to trees on his way to the man’s camp when the System had suddenly cut into his thoughts.

Be still, Tulland. As still as the grave. It’s a wonder he hasn’t seen you yet.

Tulland agreed, especially when he heard the man moving by. The rogue was several yards away, on a game path of sorts that gave him a less than clear view of Tulland’s position. He should have seen Tulland but he wasn’t paying attention. He was as highly distracted as Tulland could imagine someone being, talking to himself in a not-so-quiet voice.

“Not his farm tunnel. He dug that himself. Not the tunnel to the east. No caves to the west and north. So it has to be that first one again. I missed it. I must have,” the rogue mumbled.

Tunnels? Caves? What’s he looking for? Tulland had been keeping the System connection on for company. He needed that after losing his only friend in The Infinite. He even went so far as to re-enable the System to listen to his selective thoughts. It was yet another benefit from The Infinite’s Dungeon System, making it possible to communicate without having to speak out loud.

It’s hard to say. But the fact that he’s looking for something does resolve a bit of confusion.

How so?

Farming every bit of experience out of every floor is usually a fool’s errand. You do it because it takes so little time for you. The armored warrior you’ve befriended seems to have her own reasons and goals. But for someone like this rogue to return is… odd. Unusual. Unless there’s a treasure. Then it all comes together.

How would he ever know there’s something like that to find?

There are ways. The most likely is that he won a treasure map of sorts, and had to go searching to get the more practical aspects of the reward.

Seems like a bad deal. Extra work.

Don’t be foolish. Think of what you know about dungeons and The Infinite. With risk and effort comes reward. There is no question that, should he find it, the treasure will be a massive boon to him.

The rogue made his way back towards camp in the failing light, and Tulland followed at a safe distance once was reasonably sure his enemy had moved on. The rogue settled in, rolling out a sleeping mat of some kind and going to sleep. Whatever he was looking for, he didn’t seem to want to spend too much effort trying to find it in the failing light.

Tulland made his way home, juiced his plants with magic power, and fed his Jewel Moss. It was starting to turn red from all the juice, something he hoped wasn’t hurting it. His Farmer’s Intuition seemed split on whether it was helping or not, but either way he’d have to wait to see the results.

After that, he harvested a few choice plants and took the same trip he suspected the rogue would the next morning. He doubted he’d have much luck finding what the rogue couldn’t in the dark, but that wasn’t the point. He had groundwork to lay.

Once he had arranged things to his liking, he finally returned home. Crawling into his hole, he went to sleep guarded by an army of briars.

The next day, Tulland was up well before dawn, eager to get to the rogue’s camp before the man had a chance to go searching again. When he got there, a couple of the objects the rogue had left around his sleeping area were gone, packed back into the rogue’s now overloaded pack.

He’s packing up. With any luck, he’ll leave right now, and end this madness for you.

“Maybe. But probably not.”

Why?

“The treasure, remember? He’ll keep searching. He must be confident he’ll find it today.”

And then leave. Which I recommend you let him.

“No. I won’t make it that easy for him.”

I must again advise you that this is foolishness. With his speed and power, he would certainly…

Tulland cut the connection. He had a bit of time left before the rogue was truly packed, and he needed every second of it to prepare.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

—

Botanica (Lance, Crude)

By forming Jewel Moss onto the end of an Ironbranch Sapling and encouraging it to grow to it’s multi-faceted adulthood, you have created a sort of symbiont-headed polearm of significant piercing power. The head or shaft of this weapon can withstand anything up to a full, directed strike from a strength-focused class.

For reasons similar to those previously mentioned in the summary of the enhanced Ironbranch sapling, this weapon lacks some of the potential power an expertly crafted weapon might bring to bear. Still, it is a real weapon, if not a particularly refined one. In most situations, it will serve.

The description hadn’t popped until Tulland had finished using his knife and scythe to trim down the excess wood of the sapling to a reasonable handle. The Jewel Moss had needed no such trimming. He had formed it with his hands every day before it hardened, resulting in a pointed, round-bodied spearhead that looked like the business end of an artist’s paintbrush. Somehow, the entire finished weapon felt more real in his hands.

It will have to do.

The next steps were fairly simple. He had harvested the latest batch of Acheflowers from his Wolfwood trees, as well as a multitude of powerful Lunger Briars from outside his farm, carefully leveled to near the peak of their power. He had left them bundled on the ground a short way away, and now untwined them and began to position them on the forest floor. What he was building was not a particularly refined trap, but it was a big one.

Minutes later, Tulland found himself outside the rogue’s camp, closer than he had ever come before. The rogue was still packing, but almost done. Tulland took a deep breath. The System wasn’t wrong that this was an avoidable risk. But avoidable wasn’t the same thing as a bad risk, or even an unnecessary one. This was a bad guy who had things Tulland wanted and knew things he wanted to know. He was willing to roll the dice on that.

Swinging a rock wrapped in briar above his head several times, he let loose at a trajectory he knew would come close to hitting the rogue, then threw several briars between him and the camp before it landed. He would need whatever extra time he could buy, and getting rid of his excess weight felt like a good move.

The vine clunked down not exactly on top of the rogue, but within arm’s reach. It didn’t hit. Whatever else the rogue’s class was, it had a component of watchfulness that fully justified his comfort sleeping out in the open. As soon as there was so much as a sound of impact, he was up with both weapons bared. He looked around for a split second before catching sight of Tulland and sneering.

“That’s about enough cute tricks. Are you ready to die?”

Tulland nodded as he turned to run. He got just a glimpse of the rogue’s face morphing into an angry snarl as extra motivation to sprint faster. The rogue was fast enough to catch up before Tulland could get to his destination, of course. But that was only true if he was able to run in a straight line. A few seconds into the pursuit, Tulland heard the rogue make contact with the first of the hidden briars he had placed in the path between them and knew he would at least have a few more seconds to improve his chances.

He didn’t turn to see how close the pursuit was. If the rogue caught up now, it was over, no matter what he did. Instead, he focused every bit of attention he had into just running, hurtling over obstacles in the woods and making a beeline for the tunnel where he had once found Necia’s helmet. Once he got there, he skidded into position at the mouth of the tunnel, then ducked through into the darkness before exiting out on the river-side and climbing into the boughs of the same overgrown tree he had used for scouting before.

It turned out Tulland needn’t have hurried. There was little doubt the rogue would be able to quickly track him, but the man was a careful sort. Insane as he might be, the rogue was cautious of the traps Tulland had laid. It was minutes before there was any activity around either of the entrances to the tunnel, long enough for Tulland to mostly catch his breath and to be confident that he was at least somewhat hidden in the tree.

Eventually, a rustling sound monopolized Tulland’s full attention span as he saw something moving through the shadows of the forest. It was a bit harder to see than something brighter-colored should be, but there wasn’t much difficulty in guessing who it was. The rogue skirted the trees, keeping mostly in cover before finally pausing, taking a careful look around the area, then making a beeline for the tunnel.

Tulland held his breath and tucked himself deeper into the tree. He wasn’t sure how far away the rogue could see. He knew that some scout and explorer classes had much more in the way of long-distance awareness, something he hoped wouldn’t apply to the rogue. Either way, there had never been any way to confirm just how far the rogue could see, and he wasn’t taking any chances.

Tulland kept his position in a low crouch, almost completely obscured by leaves. He just needed a few more seconds of going unnoticed and the rogue following the trail into the tunnel. If he could just get that, he had a chance.

The man paused at the entrance, his face contorting into an unreasonable rage.

That’s right. I know about your little treasure. I might be taking it right now. You can’t take the chance of letting me get my hands on it, can you?

The man’s build was lighter than Necia’s had been. Her appearance had been all armor, swords, and a dangerous kind of weight that would crush down on the unprepared. This man was cloaks and daggers, a masked face, and footsteps Tulland couldn’t hear.

It was no wonder the man had been able to get the drop on Necia. He didn’t look dangerous until he was. He was the type to leap out of the dark to kill people rather than fight them face to face. Maybe he would even befriend his targets, getting them to drop their guard with accursed words until he saw an opportunity to kill. Necia was a lot of things, but overly wary wasn’t one of them. This was a man who could have tracked her down and ambushed her.

And if there was any doubt it was him that attacked Necia, it’s gone now. Do you see it, System?

Being here is foolish. You should have left.

I asked you a question.

I do. I see it well.

I’ll win.

I don’t see how. Between when you sent me away and now, did you gain another class? Weapons you did not possess before? Talents you learned in my absence? If not, staying here is death.

Maybe. Let’s see.

The murderer didn’t just go into the tunnel. He threw a few rocks down to test, listened for the sounds, and then sneered. He circled around to the other side and found the other opening of the tunnel. After waiting a few more seconds and tossing a few more rocks in, he finally grunted in frustration and entered the tunnel, disappearing from Tulland’s sight as he ducked underground. Tulland waited in his tree until he felt a subtle calling from below the soil from one of his briars, asking a sort of permission to strike. It was something he had become accustomed to during his time with Necia, and an action he had taken so many times it felt like reflex now.

“Go.”

Tulland said that not to the vines but to every single Acheflower. Right now, there were ten or twelve of them going off in a confined space with a confirmed target within a couple of feet. Tulland didn’t know how classes worked, really, but he knew those flowers were at least supposed to be an inconvenience for adventurers, or else The Infinite probably wouldn’t bother with them.

And a dozen inconvenient things all exploding in your face at once can be a real threat, especially if they are closer and bigger than they should be. Like the hail was, to me.

Tulland gave the flowers just a second to work before he finally let his vines go. After that, there was nothing to feel or know without going to check himself. Gripping his spear in one hand and his farming tool in the other, Tulland went.