The full weight of the Cinderback Armadrax came crashing down, an iron shed-load of mass exploded onto the ground, sending shockwaves and a grinding thud and an awful CRUNCH that echoed off into the morning light. . . .

But I was already shunted away — Alator had managed to tackle me aside at the last moment. With the force of his run, we slid across the ashen ground, rapidly approaching the precipice — to fall into the abyss.

Alator’s teeth snapped together, the muscles in his shoulders went taut and ridged and the lines of gold that webbed up from his fingertips glowed and spread up his whole arm. Still moving at speed, he stabbed his hand down into the ground. A fingernail splintered and flew off, but the hand broke two-inch into the very stone and with a whiplash JOLT, and we stopped.

My legs were dangling over the edge. With a grunt, Alator rose to his feet and pulled me out of the crevasse. His eyes were on fire, a yellow, energetic smoke pouring from the outer corners, but his face showed nothing but insane joy.

“YOU MAD BASTARD!” he roared, pounding a fist into my chest.

I lay panting, splayed out, hand still clutching my steaming spear. My entire body felt like it was on fire. I looked down, most of the front of my skin was mottled with light burns as if I’d been spat at by cooking oil.

He helped me upright. We both walked the few paces back to the mountainous thing, like the gradually dying embers of the aftermath of an enormous bonfire. I readied my spear out in front and kicked it hard. No movement. I shut my eyes in bliss, then groaned as wave after wave of agonising pressure came on every muscle. I didn’t bother reaching inside that stream of power within me for my Skills; I knew it would be just jelly and darkness.

“You pushed yourself past your absolute limit, Talbot,” Alator said, resting an arm over my shoulders and pulling me into him.

We both stared at the smoking mound and I had a peculiar, humorous feeling that we resembled two old work colleagues relaxing in front of a barbecue after a long week — Alator congratulating me on my choice of meat, me using a spatula instead of a spear, just chatting away on a Sunday lunchtime.

Chuckling to myself, I pushed myself away from him and set about harvesting the beast, to Alator’s amusement. The Cinderback Claw had settled into warmth only slightly too uncomfortable to hold. I nestled it into my pouch. I thought that the Molten Carapace would have been easy enough to remove, given the existing missing scale, and something about the alien, strange nature of this fiend made me a lot less squeamish about cutting it up.

If only we had a proper knife. . . .

I climbed onto it and went to use my spear to cut a few more of the iron-like scales free, but saw that the bronze had been melted blunt and warped out of recognition.

Well, that’s beyond what my bloody whetstone can fix. Hopefully Akhur'shet has a blacksmith worth his salt, maybe even one that can incorporate some of these materials I’ve been picking up!

Last on the list of items to loot from the Cinderback was an Inferno Heartstone. It lay on its front, so Alator and I would have to roll it over. Walking to one side of it, we took our low squat stances and found whatever ridge or bent bit of carapace we could and lifted with all our might. Together — though I can’t imagine my input felt like much help to my companion — we managed it.

Its underbelly still leaked that bile-yellow blood. It stunk acerbic so badly that it made my eyes water, but I inspected it to where I thought perhaps its heart had been. Alator came to my side. He moved his hand over the surface of the beast and there was a faint flash, then he indicated a place.

“Dig in there.”

I did as he said, seeing that it was perhaps a slightly darker shade of orange to the rest of it. I used the ruined bronze of the spear to dig in and feel around, and eventually it dinged against something hard, and with heat curling the hair on my forearms and prickling my face, I drew out the treasure.

Analysis.

Item :

Cinderback Claw

Rarity :

Rare

Description :

A long, fiendish claw, warm to the touch

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Effect :

With [Crafting], it can imbue the power of volcanic fire

Item :

Inferno Heartstone

Rarity :

Rare

Description :

Burning power within an ebony shard

Effect :

Can be used to power living machinery

All done, I groaned and fell into the ash. Alator came to my side and breathed in. I cut across him:

“I know we can’t rest here, just give me a few minutes.”

Alator nodded and leapt up onto a nearby rock-wall, scanning the horizon.

I chewed on the last of the jerky and struggled to swallow, my mouth parched. Then I shut my eyes and tried to drive my focus away from the complaints of my body.

Living machinery sounds cool, eh?

BUZZ.

STOP THAT.

// SYS : Very cool, but there isn’t much of that in Barbican — it would have more use on Planet Ironside in Fomalhaut. //

Not sure any of those are words.

// SYS : It’s the name of a star with reverse entropic radia — //

Anyway, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. So . . . is all this power coming from you?

The bronze orb swayed from side to side, like the shake of a head, but didn’t offer anything more.

The Experience, my buff body — I’m even taller than I was before — and the Skills that make me feel like a superhero. Are you giving me these?

// SYS : Only by proxy — the newfound magnificence within your body comes from the essence of the fiends you destroy. XP represents this essence in a way you can understand. Entities such as I — you call us Systems — simply distribute the energy released during death. //

Do you, now? And skim some off the top for yourselves, I’d wager?

// SYS : . . . //

I think I just heard you squirm. The plot thickens.

// SYS : Do you want the Experience from the fiend, or not? //

Yes, please — pretty please with a cherry on top.

// SYS : You gained 105 XP for defeating the Cinderback Armadrax. You now have 122 and need 95 total for the next Level. //

Let’s go! Level 5! Strength me up, SYS!

// SYS : Congratulations and welcome to Level 5. Your Strength Stat is now 11. You have 27 XP remaining and need 102 total for the next Level. //

I felt it instantly. A subtle bridge had been crossed between Alator and myself. There was still a vast horizon separating me from my companion, but glancing at him with the Analysis Card at my fingertips now revealed his Strength to be 66, exactly six times mine. Alator’s Dexterity and Mind were still ? to me, but it filled a void of unease that his ability was not unreachable; simply far away. His Level and Home still showed ?, but I remember SYS said that wasn’t due to the six-times gap, just a problem with the Card.

Guess I need to find out more about his Home myself.

Smiling widely, I pulled myself to my feet. I retrieved the Bronze Shield I’d deposited, then Alator hopped off the beast and mirrored my grin, and we set off in the direction we’d been heading.

Cresting again over the steady slope of the mountain, this time in the light, we saw a new biome through the haze: the slow-spitting caldera of an ancient volcano, half-filled with steaming water, half still dry, blackened earth pocked with glowing pools of magma. And beyond, neat lines of trees with stark red leaves.

Heading down over the peak, I was forced to use my spear as a walking stick to catch myself from falling a few times as my legs settled into that unsteadiness that I was quickly growing very accustomed to. I’d lost track of how many Skills I’d popped off in that battle, but the comparatively gentle walk, helped along with the small bonuses to Strength and Dexterity I’d gained, softened the blow, and we crossed the ashen plane at a good pace.

The ground was rough underfoot and we kicked up small clouds of ash with each step, and as we neared the half-active volcano, the sluggish lava flows became more common and the jagged crevasses were more numerous, but narrower — easier to cross with my own ability. The air was dry and the occasional warm gust carried soot so that by the time we neared the trees, our skin and clothes were sticky and heavy grey.

There was a high fence built of thin, hewed, spike-topped logs before us, but there were gaps just wide enough for humans to comfortably squeeze between. The emberfruit groves stretched in neat, orderly lines; low-hanging branches heavy with clusters of deep orange fruit. Gnarled, ancient trunks supported vibrant red leaves that shimmered like embers in the quickly fading light.

The sulphur in the air was replaced by the bittersweet scent of ripe fruit and rich, black soil. We couldn’t help but reach up and pick a fruit from the first tree we found; a tough, rubble-textured skin peeled away to vibrant coral flesh, and each juicy bite gave a very slight pulse to the tongue and throat like an energy drink — perhaps it was just that it was the first moisture that’d touched my lips all day.

In the distance, low in a valley, was nestled a small village of homes built from dark, porous stone, their roofs woven with the dried red leaves. A far cry from scary and otherworldly Ur-Kadesh; if not for the location and colour, it seemed like any pleasant village you might have found a thousand years ago on Earth.

Approaching, some of the locals, all dressed in clothes dyed that same stark red, gave not unfriendly nods as we passed, but then carried about their business tending the groves. They were stout folk, orange-skinned with gangly long arms. In the centre of the village stood a fairly modest shrine; an obelisk of ruby-red, ten-foot tall, and in an alcove, a perfect circle cut into the stone, smouldered a small handful of embers, ever-burning. There were offerings of the freshest fruit in woven baskets at its base.

I breathed out heavily, then brought in everything about me with every sense.

How peaceful it is, here. How quaint and how pleasant.

I didn’t see the bloodstains.