Azrael sat on the cool mountain side for a long time, allowing [Meditation] to help heal his wounds and regain his stamina. Eventually though he rose, his vision clearer and his muscles slightly less sore from the beating he had received. Even his rib, which had been struck by the ram’s hoof, was merely an inconvenience rather than a hinderance, although he was sure he would sport a brilliant bruise in the coming days.

Wobbling slightly where he stood, he took a moment to steady himself. It seemed that the blow to his head had been worse than he thought. Although he could see things clearly again, things were still a little bit fuzzy around the edges.

He shivered and looked up. It would be dark soon. Casting his gaze around the area he managed to find the first of his daggers, the one that he had lost his grip on. His second was nowhere to be seen. Now that he thought about it, neither was the ram.

Had it escaped? No. That didn’t make any sense. It had every chance to finish him off before it left. Following all the skid marks and disturbed rocks on the ground he recreated the flow of the battle.

Here was where he’d crashed the first time. Here was where it ploughed through the ground. Here he’d cut its side and here it had thrown him into the sky before the rodeo. Azrael followed all of the clues before they brought him to the ram’s last charge. He looked down the slope. There, buried under a small avalanche, the creature lay unmoving.

After stumbling, it seemed that the ram had been unable to halt its momentum and ended up tumbling down the steep mountain side. In the end it was killed by the very avalanche it started.

Carefully Azrael began to climb down afterwards. It was high time to go home, but he wasn’t leaving without his new dagger.

At the base of the slope Azrael began moving the rocks out of the way, appreciating the sheer size of the creature. The entire thing was the size of a small car. All it needed to have do to beat him was to sit on him.

He wasn’t sure if he could have beaten it in a fair fight. It brought reality back home. He wasn’t strong, it was just that everything in the forest was weak. Sure he still had some skills from the other games he’d played, but this was the beginning of a new game. Plus, all the creatures he’d beaten were either strong or fast, not both.

The ram was stronger than he was, heavier than he was, as fast as he was and had a natural resistance to his magic and it was the size of a small car. The boars, deer and wolves that he’d fought couldn’t compare to this thing.

He moved a final rock and retrieved his dagger from the ram’s front leg. He needed to train more. It appeared he’d slacked off recently. First was the villagers, then Alena and finally he ended up spending a lot of time doing rune crafting.

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Looking down at the crushed remains of the ram, he sighed. Most of the body, save the head and forelegs, was still covered in heavy boulders too large for him to move. The rest of the exposed parts were too mangled to be turned into anything edible. He couldn’t even reach where the creature’s mana core was likely to be.

Azrael looked up at the sky. Night was rapidly approaching and it had already been past the five hours that he’d promised Alena he’d be back by. Briefly he contemplated using [Stone Shaping] to try and move the rocks, but there was probably more there to move than he could do on a single tank, even with [Meditation]. There were too many separate rocks. He shivered. Not to mention the mountains were getting colder with the onset of night.

He sighed. It seemed they would be having Bulla tonight.

It was a pity, he was looking forward to a nice curry. He kicked the dead animal and was about to start the journey home, when he stopped and turned back.

He sliced the horns off, using his daggers and [Reinforcement]. Maybe he could hang them on his wall. He cringed at the thought. No, maybe he could make them into horns to blow into. He could gift them to Cairn for the midwinter festival. Either that, or make them into drinking horns, not that they had any alcohol to drink from them. Carrying a horn in each hand he began the walk home. It was getting dark quickly.

Despite Azrael’s best efforts to make it home as quickly as possible he still arrived home in the dark. Alena had activated the two lamps at the entrance to the barrier, allowing him to find his house pretty quickly. In the dark forest the two lamps looked like guardian wraiths.

His breath hung in thick white veils as he walked up to the door and he looked forward to entering the warmth of the house. It was cold!

Reaching the house, he unloaded the two ram’s horns, leaving them outside and reached for the door. However, before he could even touch the handle, the door opened by itself. Alena stood in the entrance, a cloth in one hand and a pout in the other. Suddenly he felt like a scolded child, which was absurd! He’d done nothing wrong.

“Look, sorry, I…” He began.

Alena just closed the door in his face, leaving him out in the cold. What? Wasn’t this his house? He rapped his knuckles on the door and after a few moments it opened again.

“Can I come in?” He asked. Alena just looked at him. Her stomach rumbled, causing him to raise an eyebrow. “I’ll cook dinner.” She relented and let him into the house.

Inside was warm, so warm that he swore he could see steam rising off of his clothes.

Quickly changing into a dry set of clothes Azrael began to cook dinner. Tonight’s menu was spicy beef stew, well spicy Bulla stew, but close enough. Leaving the Bulla meat to thaw he placed the iron pot onto the runestove, before starting to chop some wild onion from the pantry. Pouring a little of his precious oil supply into the new pan, the onions followed soon after.

The entire house was filled soon filled with the smell of cooking onions. Once golden brown he cubed the Bulla meat and threw it in, letting it soak in the onion flavour, before adding salt and a little of an earthier spice. Letting that all roast and stew together he added some diced potatoes. Then he added some water and left it to simmer.

Taking that time he made a simple bread from salt, oil, water and potato flour, letting that cook in the pan as a flat bread.

Meanwhile Alena set the table and eventually he dished out dinner for the both of them. He blew on his spoon and took his first bite. He was in heaven. He would never take salt for granted again.