Hunter was so excited about his new gear that he had to force himself to take off his equipment to go to sleep. The young warrior felt the primal urge to set off on the hunt that very night. Thankfully, the cautious side of him—the side that had seen too many close calls already—counseled him to wait until the sun rose. There was no proof that night was any safer than the day. For all Hunter knew, the monsters were more active and more violent when the sun was out. However, it was an instinctual fear of the dark that dwelt within the heart of every human. It was the lizard brain that whispered that monsters lived in the shadowy reaches just out of sight.

That's okay. Snodgrass has one less breed of monster after today. Tomorrow, I'll take the next one.

Hunter fell into a dreamless sleep, and when he awoke, his body felt like it had been born anew. He roused quickly and gathered all of his equipment. After a brief stop by the grove to replenish his rations, he exited the Sanctuary. The crimson sun had only just risen, but it was already softy illuminating the warped landscape.

Hunter took a deep breath and took in the scents of the Rift. He smelled the coppery tang of old blood, the sickly sweet smell of rot, and the acrid stench of fire and ash. It was a far cry from the world he knew and loved. Typically, when he awoke early, Hunter enjoyed the smell of dew and growing things. The span of time when the sun had barely risen, and the world was still asleep was his favorite time to be alive. Everything felt new, fresh, and mysterious. The night hadn't yet dripped away, but the sun hadn't yet cast its full glow upon the world. Hunter thought it was somewhat poetic that even before the Rift, he had enjoyed the path that laid down the middle. Now, it was practically his only chance of survival.

Shrugging off his nostalgia, Hunter broke into a trot. He noticed how comfortable and natural the feeling of running had become. Although he had earned his skill levels the last day, he didn't have the chance to enjoy them, weighed as he was by exhaustion. Now that Hunter had banished his fatigue with a good night of sleep, the new levels made themselves known. His foot seemed to land in the right places, his balance was perfect, and each movement felt as graceful as a dance.

As he jogged up the main trail that ascended the mountain, he was impressed with his new equipment. His cloak naturally flowed out of his way, his footsteps ghosted across the terrain, and there he never had to worry about throwing his ankle in a pothole or cracking a dead branch. The journey was downright peaceful compared to the previous days.

He had passed the invisible barrier between imp territory and what lay beyond when he heard something massive shattering the trunk of a nearby tree. Instead of panicking, Hunter smoothly dropped into a crouch and gathered his cloak around him. He pulled the hood low and then consciously activated the camouflage abilities in his items. Hunter knew the gear didn't make him invisible, but a casual glance would slide right over his form. He had practiced the effect before going to sleep in the mirror, and even he had difficulty discerning his figure.

He eased his sword from its scabbard without drawing it and settled to wait. In only a few minutes, the latest monster of the Rift appeared from the tree line. If Hunter's Covetous Eyes hadn't been active, he might have mistaken the demon for another bear. It was similar in size to the demonic bear and shared identical coloring. When it neared Hunter's position and loudly sniffed the surrounding area, the warrior got a better look.

Like the bear, it walked on four limbs, but it had the ability to walk on two. The closest comparison Huner could make would be to a minotaur. It's front half had a bovine head covered in blood-colored fur. Two golden horns sprouted from its head like a Viking helmet. They were massive protrusions of bone stretching three times the length of the bullish head. Each tip reflected the ruby-colored light of the sun and looked sharp enough to pierce the wind. It's dim eyes made the creature appear slow and unintelligent, but Hunter could detect emerald fire in its depths. Its entire face was festooned with gold piercings that were outshone by the metal ring in the bovine's nose. It looked more like a door knocker than a piece of jewelry.

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Its torso was massive and muscular. If it weren't a demon, it would win every strongman competition it ever participated in. The hands were substantial vascular paws that ended in ebony-colored claws. Upon each forearm, a thick metal bracer protected the creature from harm. Each one twinkled with gems of various sizes and coloration.

The lower half of its body resembled the hindquarters of a bull. That is, if there were ever a crimson-furred bull the size of a pickup truck. It had digitigrade legs that ended in golden hooves, and unfortunately, it was entirely naked. The sight filled Hunter with equal parts disgust and envy.

I did not need to see that. Please let me burn out my eyeballs.

His silent prayer went unanswered, and Hunter focused his eyes on the description floating above the monster's head.

Minor Greed Ghorum (Lvl: 20)

If the ghorum was minor, then Hunter didn't want to meet a lesser or greater ghorum. He didn't know if those things existed, but he hoped his gaming knowledge didn't steer him wrong. As for its level, the information was meaningless. Hunter didn't have his own levels, and therefore, he couldn't compare their relative strengths. Even the inky black lettering above its head—typically showing the level of danger in a video game—didn't mean anything. After all, everything was higher leveled than Hunter.

As it stood, the demon still towered over Hunter, and even though it hadn't spotted the warrior, its chuffing made Hunter think it would find him by smell alone. He didn't know-how, the whole Rift smelled like a shitstain, but maybe it was because Hunter was likely the only thing that didn't smell like it had died thrice over.

Hunter pulled his cloak tighter around himself and then quietly circled around the Ghorum to get behind it. He was all too aware that he had a bonus from his Grasp of Avarice that effectively doubled backstab damage. Hunter wasn't too proud to ambush an enemy—quite the opposite. He was here to survive, nothing more and nothing less.

The ghorum had arrived at Hunter's last hiding place when the warrior had finished circling behind it. It was sniffing around and following Hunter's trail. That was all the impetus Huner needed to activate a flurry of skills.

First, Battle Meditation settled over Hunter like a cool blanket. His mind moved more quickly, and his body responded to his mental commands more easily than normal. Hunter was rid of all doubt and fear as he activated Charge and drew his sword in one smooth motion.

The wind whipped by his face as he attacked the ghorum from behind. He speared his blade through the ghorum's hindquarters—the only place he could easily reach. He felt the edge punch through the pelvis of the monster and come out the front of its body. A blood-curdling roar echoed through the mountain as black blood poured from the beast.

The stun from his charge disabled the creature for the second it required for Hunter to quickly remove his sword from the monster. The warrior retreated a couple of paces as the ruined pelvis caused the ghorum hind legs to fall to the ground and scrabble at the earth with its arms.

Hunter calculated the distance before summoning a fireball to his hand. He lobbed it at the creature's back as it used its arms to drag itself toward Hunter. The fireball exploded across the ghorum's back and lit its mane of fur alight. It roared again, but Hunter wasn't sure if it stemmed from pain or impotence.

It didn't matter, Hunter was laughing as the rush of mana, stamina, and health flowed into his body from his foe. He felt like a god as he circled the beast and delivered mutilating strikes across its body. He targeted the arms first and reduced them to misshapen piles of meat. When the ghorum was slumped on its face, he started working on the ribs and torso. Hunter knew he could kill the ghorum right away, but it didn't feel right to him. He wanted to drink more energy from beast. He was hungry for its power in a way that went beyond physical sustenance.

It took long minutes for him to drink his fill of the ghorum. When it was close to death and every part of it looked like a patchwork of torn flesh and rent muscle, Hunter approached its head. The warrior was delighted with the sound of its labored breathing. Its eyes had already been skewered, and its face was a mottled wreck. It didn't even have the strength to resist as Hunter lifted its giant skull with his right hand.

Hunter looked into its ruined visage and breathed deeply. Gray smoke wafted from the monster and sank into his mask. As the last of the ghorum's soul energy was absorbed by Hunter's golden face, the warrior felt a shudder of pleasure.

I could get used to this, he considered before letting the monster's head crash into the ground. The fight had been an easy one because Hunter had played to his strengths. Not every battle would be this effortless, but Hunter knew that the Paths he chose allowed him to grab power far faster than should be possible. He craved more.

It's time to hunt.