As Miguel walked beside the laden wagon, he couldn’t keep himself from gaping at his surroundings. Mountains, larger than any had been before the world’s transformation, towered all around, reaching toward the blue sky and piercing the clouds. A gentle wind blew, carrying with it the unmistakable chill of late winter, which was exacerbated by the heightened elevation.

A few dwarves sat on the wagon, which was pulled by beasts of burden that before his recent stint as a caravan guard, Miguel had only seen from afar. The creatures – which were called carak and were native to one clan of the Ironshore dwarves’ homeworld – looked like a cross between oxen and bears, with shaggy coats that tickled the ground. They were incredibly strong, though, and they displayed that power by pulling wagons that each weighed as much as a fully loaded trailer from an eighteen-wheeler.

The wagons were spatially enchanted, which meant that they mitigated the weight and space of the goods they carried, though Miguel had been told that they weren’t even close to perfectly efficient. Thus, the immense weight, which was only about half of what it would’ve been outside the wagons. Either way, there was an enormous number of processed ingots of high-quality ore in there. Enough to make quite a lot of profit, according to the Teamster in charge of the procession of six such wagons.

They were bound for Norcastle, which meant that the trip was meant to take about three weeks. According to everyone involved, it was normally a quick and easy trip. The well-traveled trail wasn’t completely devoid of danger – nowhere in the world was, Miguel knew – but most of the beasts in the area preferred to avoid people rather than attack them. So, there was a good chance that Miguel and the other guards – mostly young fighters without much experience – wouldn’t be needed.

Still, Miguel was well aware of just how dangerous the wilderness could be, so he focused on the task at hand, scanning his surroundings with as much attention as he could manage. And eventually, as the sun began to set, they reached the highest point of the pass through the mountains. Once, it had been the site of a battle between Miguel’s uncle and some sort of fearsome spider monster, though any evidence of that fight had long since faded. Now, it just looked like a bare strip of mountainous terrain populated only by a few lonely trees.

The Teamsters circled the wagons, then activated an enchantment meant to dissuade the wildlife from coming near during the night. Meanwhile, Miguel and the other young fighters stood guard. It usually proved unnecessary, because throughout the first leg of their journey, nothing had ever attacked. Miguel almost wished that weren’t the case. He was itching to test out his new class and increased attributes.

But he only had to delve into his own memories to retract that flippant thought. If something attacked, there was a good chance that people would die. He’d lived through that sort of thing, and though he was prepared for it, he didn’t want to see the consequences.

Once the wagons had been circled and the enchantment had been activated, the captain of the guards – a dwarf named Beni – established the schedule for the night’s watch. Miguel took the first one, which turned out to be entirely uneventful, and a few hours after nightfall, he was relieved by another member of the guard.

One glance at the others, some of whom were playing cards or conversing around the fire at the center of the camp, and Miguel felt like more of an outsider than ever before. He was the only human in the entire caravan, and as such, he knew he didn’t really belong. On top of that, everyone was painfully aware of whose nephew he was, and Elijah’s reputation went a long way toward keeping Miguel separate from the people of Ironshore.

So, rather than join the other off-duty guards or Teamsters, Miguel found a spot under one of the wagons, retrieved his bedding from his pack, then removed his armor. It was crude-grade stuff – the same set he’d worn before choosing his class – but it was good enough for now. His mother had offered him a new set, but he’d refused. The same was true of weapons. It just seemed like such a waste, largely because of two abilities he’d received from his class.

The first was called Wood Armor Affinity:

Wood Armor Affinity

Increase the benefits gained from wearing armor made of wood by 200%. Any other armor will only have 75% effectiveness.

The second was fittingly called Wood Weapon Affinity:

Wood Weapon Affinity

Increase the benefits gained from using weapons made of wood by 200%. Any other weapons will only have 75% effectiveness.

It was obvious from those two abilities which direction his class was meant to take, and that was confirmed by Nerthus. The spryggent was not familiar with Green Warden specifically, but from the class’s description, he’d helped Miguel to figure out the basics. In essence, the idea was that it would be a sort of nature knight, which apparently included eschewing weapons and armor made from anything but wood.

At first, Miguel had been a bit disappointed with that, but after asking around in Ironshore, he’d discovered that there were quite a few types of wood that matched or exceeded the characteristics of metal. They just took specialized classes – or circumstances – to work.

The biggest detriment was that his mother’s expertise as a Blacksmith was now useless for him. Still, he hoped to find someone with a Woodworker or Carpenter class who could help him figure things out. Until then, though, metal equipment would be wasted on him.

Fortunately, his old armor and weapons were high enough quality that they wouldn’t break anytime soon. Nor did they grant any benefits like attribute gains or abilities, so their effectiveness hadn’t been affected by the detriments of his abilities.

Either way, he still looked forward to rounding out his equipment sometime soon. In the meantime, though, he took a moment to look at his status:

Name

Miguel Rodriguez

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Level

13

Archetype

Warrior

Class

Green Warden

Specialization

N/A

Alignment

N/A

Strength

21

Dexterity

21

Constitution

28 (21)

Ethera

17

Regeneration

16

Attunement

Nature

Cultivation Stage: Cultivator

Body

Core

Mind

Soul

Wood

Recruit

Opal

Neophyte

Miguel knew that his class was extremely rare, and when he’d revealed to Nerthus that he gained eight total attribute points for each level, the spryggent was briefly struck dumb. That was an unheard-of number of attributes, especially for a base class, and, as he leveled, it would put him on an entirely different tier than most people.

The allocation was balanced, with two points each to Strength, Dexterity, and Constitution being awarded for each level. With Ethera and Regeneration, only one point was given, though even that was more than most. It was just further evidence that the multi-verse was never meant to be a fair place. Some classes were simply better than others.

However, Nerthus had pointed out that attributes weren’t everything. There were some classes that granted incredible attributes for each level, but severely lacked in terms of abilities. By contrast, there were many classes with low attributes but powerful skills. Then there was cultivation to consider, which, with every subsequent stage, would be more and more important. Finally, good equipment could change everything.

So, even if Miguel had something of a head start on other people his level, his class would not be enough to set him apart. That was especially true if he didn’t put the work in to push himself to master his weapons and the abilities that came with his class.

The other skill he’d received – at level twelve – was called Woodsman’s Constitution:

Woodsman’s Constitution

Increase Constitution attribute by 6 points. Bonus increases by 1 point for every consecutive day spent in a forest, up to 12 total.

It was a powerful buff, and one that he did not take for granted. However, he knew that some of its efficacy was due to his Guardian Core’s advancement to the first stage. It wasn’t as powerful of a core as his uncle’s, but according to Nerthus, it was still close to the peak of what was possible without getting into Elder Cores. At present, it provided something like a forty percent increase to his abilities, which was a huge boon. It was difficult to know for certain without finding a Librarian who could direct him to the right guide, but he didn’t need exact numbers to know it would be very helpful going forward.

And besides, it wasn’t as if he could change it now.

Regardless, Miguel was happy with his progress so far, but he also craved progression in a way that bordered on obsession. Some of it was based on the need to grow stronger in order to protect himself, but as his uncle had once hinted to him, it was also addictive, seeing the quantifiable progress of his training. Watching those numbers go up – and feeling stronger with each added attribute point – was more satisfying than anything Miguel had ever experienced.

But he also had other motives.

Like protecting the people he cared about. And being useful, as the thief back in Argos had charged him to become. Or the simple satisfaction of meeting goals he’d set for himself. Finally, he knew the world wouldn’t soon stop its own progression, and if he wanted to carve out a place for himself, he needed to keep moving forward. Otherwise, he’d be left behind, and he’d end up ordinary like so many others.

That just wasn’t the path he wanted for himself.

Because Miguel knew that he wouldn’t be happy with a normal life.

He was lost in such thoughts when he heard a shout from one of the guards. Without skipping a beat, Miguel grabbed his spear and rolled out from under the wagon. A dozen other guards were already moving to their assigned positions, and even the Teamsters had taken up weapons. For his part, Miguel tossed his spear atop one of the wagons, then leaped, grabbing hold of the edge and dragging himself to the top. It was twelve feet off the ground, so from that position, he could see the reason the alarm had been raised.

Dozens of monsters surrounded the circled wagons. They were vaguely humanoid, with the right number of arms and legs. But that was where the similarities ended. The creatures sported hyena-like heads, spotted, fur-covered bodies, and wicked claws that looked perfect for slicing through flesh.

“Gnolls!” shouted one of the Teamsters.

One of the monsters let out a cackling howl that sent a shiver of fear up Miguel’s spine. And when the other monsters responded with howls of their own, his chest tightened in mingled anticipation and terror. He pushed the latter aside, gripping his spear in both hands as he planted his feet.

More than anything, he wished he’d thought to bring his bow. Or that he hadn’t removed his armor. That was a mistake he didn’t intend to repeat in the future.

Miguel didn’t have long to regret his choices before the creatures surged forward with frightening speed. He and his companions were outnumbered ten to one, but they had the advantage of skills as well as the defensive position provided by the circled wagons.

Still, he knew it would be a tough fight.

However, he was still more than a little surprised when the first monster leaped against the wagon, dug its claws into the sides, and vaulted to the top. The thing moved like a gymnast on steroids, so Miguel was shocked when he found himself suddenly facing off against the fur-covered creature.

But his training hadn’t been for nothing, and his learned instincts took over as the battle commenced. He thrust forward with the spear, but the monster nimbly danced to the side, darting in to eviscerate Miguel’s torso. Yet, it clearly hadn’t expected to face off against someone with the young Green Warden’s effective stats, because it let out a bark of surprise when it found nothing but air. That turned into a pained help as Miguel plunged his rapidly drawn dagger into the creature’s back.

He wrenched it out, sheathing it in the same motion before regaining his two-handed grip on his spear. He followed that up with a powerful kick that sent the monster back the way it had come. It crashed into another gnoll, sending them both toppling to the ground.

But there were more to take their place, and before Miguel knew it, he was surrounded by gnashing teeth, sharp claws, and spotted fur. With the sound of cackling howls in his ears, Miguel fought, using every ounce of training he’d received. His attributes stood him in good stead, and he took quite a few wounds during the course of battle. They were mitigated by his comparatively high Constitution, though that did little to stop the pain. Even so, he managed to fight on, eventually clearing his side of the circled wagons before moving from one wagon to the next as he lent his efforts to help his companions.

When the dust settled, he’d lost count of how many gnolls he’d killed. He was covered in blood, sported a half-dozen shallow wounds, and was more fatigued than he’d ever been in his life. Yet, Miguel was far more worried about the two guards they’d lost in the battle.

He’d not bothered to learn their names, but he would forever remember their faces.

With the moon still bright in the night sky, another set of howling cackles filled the air as the second wave of gnolls descended upon the circled wagons. From his perch, he could see them coming. He could almost feel them. The wrongness of their very existence.

But Miguel ignored that.

As the battle recommenced, there was no room for such extraneous thoughts.