With the Duskripper in hand, Harrow waited patiently, watchful of the battle unfolding before his eyes. The more the foul creatures injured each other, the easier it would be for him to take them down.
The giant frog could barely keep up, purple liquid oozing from multiple wounds, while the badger grew in ferocity with each assault, attempting to finish its foe as swiftly as it could.
Really missing a bow and arrows, he thought. Shooting from a distance would have made everything so much easier. But he had to make do with what he had.
Harrow had no trust in his sneakiness, so he dashed into their battle, the onyx knife raised in a reverse grip to end the badger. The frog was finished, either way. The real threat was the iron-clawed badger.
Much to his delight, the badger was too focused on tearing into the frog to notice his approach. By the time it did, it was a fraction too late. The blade embedded itself into its neck just as the creature turned.
It let out a guttural screech, its claws sharp as knife edges raking wildly. The badger wasn’t dead yet, but the more it struggled to free itself, the worse the wound became.
Its body was already in bad shape from the acid burns, and now blood bubbled out, staining it further. It managed to rake its claws across Harrow’s skin, drawing blood, until Harrow somehow claimed Sacrifice with his mind.
He had been doing it before with help from the Primordial Order, but after bonding, he could use the feature at will. The binding left him intrinsically aware of its capabilities.
Warmth rose in his chest from the plundered essence, while the predator’s body squirmed and collapsed onto the ground.
The frog let out a deep ribbit—fear of missing out, perhaps. Harrow took mercy on its broken form and ended its misery with another Sacrifice. Both corpses vanished moments later, prompting him to wait for the good news.
[You have slain Unformed creatures: Ironclaw Badger, Karkhastic Frog.]
[Plundered: Uncommon Skill Matrix. Karkhastic Frog’s Acidic Venom Gland.]
Is it...? His heart skipped a beat, hoping it was what he thought. Ignoring the ominous-looking organ, he picked up the small amber crystal, inspecting it closely.
[Would you like to assimilate the Skill, Toxin Tolerance (Uncommon)?]
[Y | N]
Harrow inhaled sharply. It wasn’t a Common skill but Uncommon rank—a farmer’s entire year’s earnings wouldn’t be enough to buy something like this. Of course, it would have been the jewel of the crown if it were combat-oriented, but considering the sheer number of venomous creatures he’d encountered thus far into this madness, it might save him more time than any combat skill could.
Even if he had other choices, Toxin Tolerance seemed like a necessity. He could fight monsters with a dagger, but he couldn’t fight toxins. Not without the skill.
With that, he accepted the prompt.
The next moment, he was on the ground once again, writhing in an agony far surpassing any improvement to his core. The Uncommon attribute took longer to integrate as well, producing another round of bile in his stomach. He settled himself, gritting his teeth, knowing every bit of it was worth it.
[Skill gained: Toxin Tolerance (Uncommon) +1]
[Your tolerance to all kinds of toxins grows stronger.]
"Whew!" he jerked his head to the side and puked. Feeling the churn in his stomach subside, he summoned his Profile, staring into the Challenger mark in his palm.
Skills [2/8]:
- Cloak of Night (Elite): +1
- Toxin Tolerance (Uncommon): +1
Not much had changed, but a grin split his face as he looked at the new skill. He had already endured so much, at least he got something out of it.
If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
Now, with this skill, he might even be able to become a poison tester for some reputable nobles.
But Harrow did not want his life to take that route. He would be delighted to become an adventurer. He didn’t have much of a knightly visage, not to mention the constraints that came with knighthood. As much as he liked knights—perhaps worshipping them in his heart—he couldn’t see himself being one. Not that it was ever easy to become one.
The truth of the matter was that he could become nothing if he didn’t get out of this. Whatever this trial was supposed to be, Harrow would have to pass it. Only then could he work towards his little dream.
His stomach growled in hunger, cutting to the most pressing issue. Collecting the gland as he had with the other one, Harrow hit the path once again in search of food.
The forest was teeming with wildlife, even if the sun cast a rather ominous light over it. There had to be some edible fruits. It had predators like the giant serpent, there were bound to be prey like deer, rabbits, and other animals. That meant there would be berries and fruits as well.
****
----------------------------------------
Harrow gobbled his fourth melon with the same intensity as the first, as though he’d been starving for a week. It sure felt like it after all the hours it had taken to find them.
It had been a lengthy search, but he eventually found a place for the night and fruits and vegetables to satisfy his hunger.
The berries tasted like crap—bitter and acrid, probably a result of the sun—but at least they weren’t poisonous. he devoured them quickly, the sour taste lingering on his tongue. They filled his stomach. That was all that mattered.
There was no shortage of edible fruits. Hundreds of papaya plants, vines of wild berries, and melons spread across rows and columns. He might have considered it a well-cultivated farm if not for the roughness of the land and plants. Still, it looked like it had once been farmland, although it hadn’t been tended in years.
A rundown hovel sat at the edge of the field, its weathered walls barely visible through the undergrowth.
Why is there abandoned farmland in the middle of this horrific wood? He didn’t rack his brain over the question.
At least he wouldn’t have to spend the night outdoors. The woods were menacing enough in the daytime, who knew what horrors it might conjure up at night?
The sun would set in a few hours, and only then he realised it hadn’t moved at all in the sky. Lifting his head to check, he found it still at its zenith, glowing like a smouldering ball of flame. Harrow was too uneducated—or perhaps too simple—to deduce a reason for such an unnatural phenomenon. It was another question that might fry his skull if he lingered on it.
Satisfying his hunger, he turned his attention to his belongings: the root essence and acidic venom glands. His gaze lingered on the glands as he considered infecting himself to test his new skill. It might even help advance its progression.
After surveying the remaining daylight, Harrow decided not to lose his wits just yet. In a few hours, he could familiarise himself with both of his skills. For now, though…
He considered resting. But the image of the twisting great serpent played in his mind, a vivid reminder of the threats lurking around. He didn’t believe Duskripper alone could take down something like that—not with how weak he still was. Sacrifice only triggered when an enemy was powerless.
There are still too many things that could kill me, he thought. No, resting isn’t an option when there’s still long hours of daylight left. I need to hunt some more… empower myself.
Now that he’d seen that gaining skills was possible, it would be foolish to be satisfied with just two of them when he could have all eight.
Maybe one of the creatures will drop something useful, he mused, drifting back into the woods.
The trees did not thin as Harrow crept deeper into the forest. The stale wind and dry, humid atmosphere left him uncomfortable, but being comfortable was the least of his concerns. The forest was menacing, and so were the creatures that roamed within it.
Harrow needed to be sharp to hunt the hunters.
A few minutes later, Harrow faltered on the path, his instincts prickling at a disturbance ahead. The source of the disturbance soon revealed itself: a hyena almost waist-high. A hungry, savage hyena. Thankfully, it hadn’t discovered him yet. Harrow flinched at the sight of the creature and immediately ducked behind a bush.
Despite his newfound powers, Harrow knew he couldn’t match the beast in pure physical strength. Perhaps he could win the battle of wits, but that wouldn’t matter if the hyena managed to sink its teeth into his throat.
He eased his breathing, trying to remain as silent as possible. Sadly, the hyena had keen senses. It sniffed the air, turned its head sharply, and growled in his direction—straight at the bush concealing him.
Before Harrow could curse, it was upon him, bolting towards him in a blur.
“Tor’s balls!”
Lurching to his feet, Harrow prepared himself as best he could. His mind raced as the beast closed the distance, its maw opening wide to reveal jagged teeth glistening with saliva.
Outrunning it was hopeless, so he didn’t even try. He could only hope to outmanoeuvre it in a direct confrontation. His sole weapon, as always, was his dagger.
The hyena lunged, and before he could fully react, Harrow was slammed to the ground. His head struck the earth hard. The predator loomed over him, its fangs snapping dangerously close to his neck.
Not just fast, but strong too. His mind chilled as he plunged Duskripper upward in a desperate arc. He felt resistance as the blade met flesh—a small victory—but the beast did not relent. Blood flowed freely from its side, mingling with the saliva dripping from its mouth.
Harrow summoned all his strength and smashed his elbow into the hyena’s face, gaining only a momentary reprieve. It was relentless, its jaws closing the gap inch by inch.
Time was running out.
Fear clawed at his mind, but with it came a surge of adrenaline. Madness seared through his thoughts as he jerked sharply to the left, twisting the dagger as he yanked it upward, carving a jagged cut into the creature’s side.
The hyena howled in pain but remained undeterred, its fangs sinking into his left arm. Harrow screamed, but with his free arm, he yanked the relic free and plunged it again.
This time up right into the beast’s neck.