“Is this true?” Sadie asked.
Elijah looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. The sight of the battlefield didn’t make him feel any better. There were hundreds of corpses littering that stretch of the forest, and there were even more that had fallen prey to Kurik’s traps. The dwarf had revealed that he’d gotten four levels during the fight, which was an unheard-of degree of progression. Everyone else had leveled at least once, including Elijah, who was on the verge of reaching level ninety-three.
Only seven more, and he would get to choose his initial specialization – an exciting and somewhat daunting prospect. The first, because it represented an increase in power that wasn’t measured by levels. Elijah only had the most basic information on how it would work, but from what he’d discovered, he would receive the opportunity to enhance one aspect of his class’s abilities, the degree of which would be based on his accumulated Feats of Strength. The example he’d seen would give him a boost to various categories of power. Whatever form the specialization took, Elijah felt confident that it would be a huge step forward. He didn’t possess a list of his Feats of Strength – apparently, it took a very specialized class to do that – but he felt certain that his were impressive enough to earn a very favorable set of options.
But that opportunity came with a degree of anxiety. Often, Elijah had lamented the fact that he couldn’t guide the abilities associated with his class. Nor could he allocate his own attributes, as he had for the first ten levels. Indeed, it sometimes felt like he was living his life – at least in terms of his progression – on rails. Of course, he’d gotten a couple of chances to evolve his spells and abilities, so there was some personalization there. Yet, at times, he’d found himself wishing he could have made a few more choices.
Now, though, he worried about picking the wrong path. What if he chose a specialization, and later, found that he needed a different one to overcome some obstacle? Or worse yet, what if he picked an inferior option? He didn’t know everything about the world or how his class worked, so making a bad decision was a distinct possibility. Perhaps a near certainty, given the breadth of his ignorance.
However, that was a problem for another day. At the moment, he was a little more concerned with the fact that Dat had just regaled a recently awakened Sadie with a tale of Elijah’s daring rescue. The Witch Hunter’s story had been quite embellished, and it made Elijah sound a lot more heroic than he really was.
Indeed, he wasn’t even sure why he’d reacted so immediately, abandoning Kurik and Dat to take care of themselves. Fortunately, they both agreed that he’d made the right choice, with Kurik even saying that he would have done the same if he’d reacted a little more quickly. So, at least they didn’t blame him for leaving them in the middle of a battle.
“He got the basics right,” Elijah admitted. “But I definitely didn’t challenge the eagle to a duel or stand over it in heroic victory – whatever Dat might claim.”
“It’s called creative license, bro. Everyone loves a hero.”
“I’m not a hero.”
“Sure, bro. I know that. And you do, too. But when I tell this story, that’s what they’ll want to hear,” Dat said with an aura of sagacity.
“Is there any chance of you not telling the story?” Elijah ventured.
“I agree that this is not something people need to hear,” Sadie said. “It makes me sound like a fainting damsel in distress.”
“You kind of were, bro. A damsel, I mean. And you did faint. You were definitely in distress, too. That big bird was going to feed you to its babies.”
“I would have awoken the moment they –”
“This isn’t getting us anywhere,” Elijah interrupted, which earned him a glare from Sadie. It didn’t faze him, though. He already knew she hated him, and besides – he agreed with Dat. If Sadie hadn’t woken up during the battle, then a few young eagles gnawing on her wasn’t going to do the trick either. Regardless, it wasn’t productive to point that out, so he kept it to himself. Like a responsible adult. “We need to go to that cenote and destroy the egg so we can put this challenge behind us.”
“Fair enough,” Sadie stated.
Kurik asked, “What do you think the reward will be? Seed of the Whistling Wind sounds fancy.”
“It does,” Elijah admitted, and the others agreed. But for Elijah, whose stock and trade was dealing with trees and forests, any sort of seed seemed like a great boon. At least that was the case until Kurik pointed out that it might not be an actual seed, but rather a metaphorical name.
“You ought to see how some o’ these sects and guilds and other organizations name their treasures. Heaven’s Path Rejuvenation Pill and other such ridiculousness. It’s more than silly,” Kurik said. “So who knows what this Seed of the Whistling Wind is?”
“I feel like for what we just did, it’ll probably be pretty good, bro. The question is who gets it,” Dat pointed out. “We get one reward, and there are four of us.”
“Well spotted, Dat,” Sadie said with a roll of her eyes.
“I’m just saying.”
“It’s a valid concern,” Elijah said. “How about if someone can use it for an immediate power-up, then that person gets it? Otherwise, Sadie can hold onto everything until we get done here, and then we can divvy everything up.”
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Why me?” she asked.
Elijah shrugged. The reality was that it was intended as a bit of flattery. She clearly fancied herself an honest person, so in an effort to bridge the gap between them, he’d chosen to play off of her self-perception. In any case, he said, “Because, of the four of us, you’re probably the most trustworthy.”
“Bro.”
“Sorry, Dat. You have a shifty look about you.”
“And Kurik?” Sadie asked.
“Good guy, but he’ll run away if he thinks that’s his best chance of survival.”
“He ain’t lyin’,” the dwarf stated. He’d mentioned as much during their first extended period together. Back then, they’d been facing down an orc invasion, and Kurik had made no bones about abandoning Ironshore if the situation called for it. He was a pragmatic sort who wouldn’t risk his life without good reason. And while that didn’t make him particularly untrustworthy, it definitely made his morals a little clearer. If he thought he would come out better by taking everything for himself, then that was what he’d do.
Within reason.
Of course, he also knew better than anyone else just the sort of person Elijah was, which would hopefully keep him in check.
“Fine,” Dat said.
“Regardless, we need to actually complete the challenge before we start dividing the rewards,” Elijah said.
They all agreed, and to that end, the group set off through the forest. On their way back to the cenote, they saw Kurik’s handiwork. His traps had been incredibly effective, and to the point where the wraiths had used the dead bodies of their fellow monsters to traverse the various pits.
“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” Elijah muttered to the dwarf, who took the comment with some equanimity. Despite gaining quite a few levels, Kurik didn’t seem to revel in the slaughter. Instead, he looked a little conflicted.
When Elijah asked about that, Kurik said, “I don’t know. Just feels wrong, killin’ so many. My class has a history that I’m just startin’ to understand.”
Elijah had at least enough social skills to not ask for an elaboration. If the dwarf wanted to talk about it, he would. And if not, he would keep it all to himself.
In any case, they traversed the Killin’ Field, then passed through the forest to get to the cenote where the aviaks rested. There, they found an absolute massacre on both sides. Hundreds of withered wraith corpses littered the area around the pit, and there were even more that had thrown themselves into the cenote. And judging by the number of aviak corpses, plenty had lived through the fall long enough to wreak havoc on the occupants.
“What’s wrong?” asked Sadie, standing beside him as they looked over the edge and at the devastation below. “Your plan worked, right?”
“It did,” Elijah admitted. None of the aviaks had survived, but they’d taken their pound of flesh from the wraiths. It was only because of their efforts that Elijah and his companions had survived. If they’d have had to deal with any more enemies, they would have been pushed past their limits.
“And yet, you’re not happy.”
“I’m not.”
“Want to elaborate on why that would be?” asked Sadie. She’d made some efforts to be, if not pleasant, then not overly hostile. Apparently, that strategy included asking him to explain why he wasn’t happy about indirectly killing hundreds of near-sapient creatures. And that wasn’t even considering whatever the wraiths were.
“Not especially.”
“It might help,” she said.
Elijah sighed, then turned to face the woman. “What do you want me to say? That I regret that this was necessary? I do. For all we know, these creatures aren’t even real. They might be like the things we fight in towers. But I don’t think so. Contrary to what you might think of me, I don’t enjoy killing things. If it was up to me, I’d just sit on my island and tend to my grove. But it’s not. There are so many things out there trying to kill us. And I think we’ve only scratched the surface of what’s coming to Earth. So, I’ll do what needs to be done, but that doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it.”
It was the most Elijah had said on that subject since the world had changed, but he meant every word of it, even if he knew it wasn’t entirely true. He wasn’t so self-deluded as to think that he didn’t enjoy fighting. He always had, even going back to his boxing days, and the touch of the World Tree hadn’t changed that. However, there was a distinct difference between enjoying a good fight, as well as the progression that came with it, and killing an entire colony of semi-sapient creatures.
But it was necessary.
“Do you want me to do it?” Elijah asked. He could see the egg down below, and it made sense for him to destroy it. After all, he could easily fly back to the top.
“I think we should all go,” Sadie answered, staring intently at the carnage they had caused. For someone like her, it had to be even more difficult to see than it was for Elijah.
Everyone began the climb down. By that point, they were all seasoned climbers, and that expertise, coupled with their high attributes, made the way easy enough. Still, they were forced to go around a host of bodies during the climb, so it took a little longer than it probably should have. In the end, though, they reached the bottom of the cenote with little trouble.
That’s when they found themselves staring at the object of the challenge.
In a lot of ways, it looked just like any other egg, though it was at least eight feet tall and half as wide.
“It’s too big to be an aviak,” Elijah said. Even the champion wouldn’t have needed an egg that size, especially as an infant.
“It’s not,” said Dat.
“Well? What is it?”
“I…I’m not sure,” Dat said. “But I do know the aviaks aren’t natural.”
“What do you mean?” asked Sadie.
He shrugged. “I don’t know, but they’re not meant to be here. They’re monsters.”
“I feel the same thing,” Elijah agreed.
“One of my abilities gives me hints as to something’s nature,” Dat said. “And the notification I got when I used it on the aviaks was that they’re hybrids. Not people. Not animals. But something in between.”
“Like Druids who abandoned their humanity? Or whatever. I know this planet wasn’t populated by humans.”
“Is that possible?” asked Sadie.
“Apparently so. I read it in a guide. Something to do with giving in to your attunement.”
“Does that affect…other attunements?” she asked.
Elijah shrugged. “No idea,” he admitted. Then, he asked Dat, “So is that what this is?”
“No. This was more…they were created via magic. I don’t know anything else, but the word abomination came up in the notification. I think this egg is the next step.”
“Then we have to destroy it,” Elijah stated, unsure if his attunement drove him to say as much or if it was his own thought. He reached out to touch it.
“That’s what the challenge said to do,” Kurik stated. “I can whack it if you…oh. That definitely changes things.”
When Elijah had touched the surface of the egg, a series of cracks spread from that point all the way across the egg. He knew he’d barely grazed it, so he expected that it had been damaged during the battle. It just hadn’t succumbed until Elijah touched it.
The thing broke apart, the shell shattering into a thousand pieces. Thick, clear mucus spilled out, spreading across the cenote floor and revealing a vaguely humanoid shape. Whatever it was – or was going to be – it had yet to take its form, save for a vaguely humanoid appearance. And it was very clearly dead.
More importantly, Elijah – as well as the others, going by their glassy-eyed expressions – received a notification saying that they had completed the challenge.