Chapter Four
The squirrel spit an acorn at him. It wasn’t a normal acorn, as it was covered in a dark green saliva that hissed dangerously. Old instincts settled onto Ambrose like an old favorite coat. He easily dodged the acorn and studied the squirrel. It was up in the tree, which meant he would not be easily able to get at it.
Unfortunately for the squirrel, Ambrose was a skilled combatant. With a minor effort of will, Ambrose calmed his mind and hefted the axe in his hands. An old memory came to his mind in that instant, flashing through his mind as he readied the axe for throwing.
“You want to eat, boy? Then you better hit the target.”
Ambrose’s stomach growled as if punctuating the statement the old man made.
“Why do I have to do this, Dad? Who throws axes anymore, anyway? Can’t we just use a gun?”
His father, Raylen Severen, was an old veteran. He wore dark grey flannel, faded blue jeans, egg yolk yellow combat boots, and a black vest over the flannel. His dark red hair was going silver, cut in military style. His green eyes were weathered, like old, faded dollar bills. Grit and strength still lit up those eyes, however, and they were currently trained on his eight-year-old son. His jaw twitched, and he rubbed a hand over his clean-shaven, hard leather-skinned face.
Raylen walked over to his son and kneeled.
“You’re not always going to have a gun, son. I know I’m hard on you, Ambrose. I know it seems like I hate you, but one day, you’ll look back on all of this training, and you’ll appreciate why I made you do it. You’ll see why it’s necessary. As soon as you master axes, we’re going to knives. Get to it, boy.”
Ambrose didn’t eat that day, and Raylen still made him engage in many different exercises. As the memory faded, all that old practice and training surged through his mind, muscle memory making all of the necessary adjustments. His height, the distance from him and the squirrel, the upward throw, the wind. All this and more flashed through his mind as fast as thought.
A one-handed throw is better here. Ambrose thought. He needed accuracy, not the strength that would come from a two-handed throw. As an almost last-minute consideration, he activated [Mana Infusion], and clear mana swirled up from somewhere within him, flowing into the axe-like cool water before surging with power.
All of this in the time it took to blink, Ambrose threw the axe. Powerful and sure, the axe whirled through the air, the deadly whooshing sound as it turned end over and clearly heard. The squirrel shot an acid-covered acorn at it, the projectile vomiting from its mouth as its throat bulged and constricted forward like a cat hacking up a furball.
The axe split the acorn down the middle, and the two halves fell to the ground, sizzling with green acid. The ground melted around it. The axe did lose some of its force, but it still sank into the squirrel's dark, nightmare-twisted face with a sickening squelch as green ichor burst from it, the squirrel’s face splitting open like rotten fruit thrown against a stockade.
The monster's inhuman chittering screech of pain split the air like nightmare fuel. It fell from the tree, its impact to the ground below reminding Ambrose of a sack of meat hitting the ground.
[You have defeated a [Cursed Squirrell-Level 10] and have earned increased experience due to defeating a foe beyond your current level. You have advanced to level 6.]
A surge of euphoric energy rushed through Ambrose’s body, and he felt his muscles tighten briefly as he closed his eyes from the tide of pleasure and power. He blew out a breath as he relaxed his muscles. Ambrose flicked his gaze up, from side to side and behind himself, searching for any more threats.
He found them. Multiple squirrels twittered and hissed at him from branches on multiple trees. Their eyes were filled with hate as their throats began to bulge. Ambrose did not wait; he dashed forward, sliding on the ground baseball style as two acorns shot into the ground where he had just been with piston-like force.
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Ambrose pushed himself upward, still running; he rolled and whipped his hand out to yank the axe that was still lodged in the squirrel’s face. He whirled around, axe twisting in his hands, cutting the acorn speeding at him in half. One of the squirrels got tired of playing the range game and launched itself at him.
Alright, let’s dance, creature. Ambrose thought as he dodged backward from the chittering creature. His gaze was focused on the threat, but what Raylen had called battle awareness was with him.
Call it instinct if you want, boy. But in battle, when you’re focused enough, experienced enough, you gain an awareness of your surroundings. A sixth sense for danger.
Raylen’s voice echoed from the past. Ambrose wore that awareness like a pair of glasses. It saved him here as he felt more than saw the acorn rocketing toward his back, and he ducked under it, whirling the axe forward and using [Mana Infusion] as he did and cleaving it into the squirrel that launched itself toward him, teeth flashing with acidic green saliva. The clear mana detonated as the axe cut into the squirrel as easily as cutting into meat.
It didn’t even have time to screech a death cry as its skull split open, brain matter, blood, and viscera spilling from it like pulp. Ambrose immediately dismissed the notification, resolving to look at it later. In battle, every second matters, and that split second cost him as Ambrose could not dodge the acorn that completely collided just above his ankle.
The metal of his armor sizzled as the acid ate through it like it was butter. Ambrose cursed as some of the acid dropped onto his skin, sending burning pain through his nerves, like a monster trying to consume him. There was now a small hole in his armor, blackened and ugly. It did succeed in blocking most of the acid, so it wasn’t as bad as it could be. He pushed the pain to the back of his mind and walled it off with a mental barrier.
With a flowing swing, Ambrose threw the axe again at the squirrel that hit him with the acorn. It went much the same way as the first did. At a now painful run, Ambrose ran toward the downed monster and retrieved his axe.
In a desperate bid, the remaining three cursed squirrels launched themselves to the ground, and with chittering screeches, they ran at him.
Bad move, monsters. By staying in the trees, the monsters would have severely limited his options in harming them. Plus, he could have lost his axe if he missed. Not likely. Ambrose snorted as he set his feet. They brought themselves closer by rushing him and giving him many more options. Ambrose went to work, whirling his axe, clear blue mana flaring around the weapon. The sound of squelching, bursting blood and viscera, and sharp slashing filled the air as Ambrose became a storm of death and butchery.
The monsters had no coordination, no discipline. Their anger and maliciousness were unfocused; it controlled them. Ambrose, however, had leashed his anger like a lion tamer. He used it, not the other way around. The squirrels ultimately stood no chance, and at the end of it, Ambrose stood amongst what amounted to cut-up roadkill. If that roadkill was straight out of a horror flick. Ambrose flicked the axe, his grip loose around it.
Then he addressed his notifications, which had morphed into a more concise message.
[You have slain x4 [Cursed Squirrels-Level 10] and have gained increased experience. You have advanced to level 10. Note that you cannot select a class at this level due to your deal with the entity known as “Misaq” and choosing a class at level 1. In addition, you will not choose any new skills.]
Euphoria crashed over him like a wave on a rock. Once it passed, Ambrose considered his attributes. He had twenty points to spend. He smiled, already knowing what his wife would have said,
“Right into charisma! You get to cast magic and look beautiful? Done deal.”
That wasn’t an option, though. Paladins gained power through convictions, and it took willpower to maintain them. He also wanted a little extra health. Eight went into constitution, and the last twelve went into willpower. Instantly, any wounds he had disappeared as his body surged with newfound strength. Every ache, pain, and even his exhaustion vanished.
“That’s convenient,” Ambrose muttered. He scanned the area for threats again and found nothing. Now, he was forced to make another choice. What direction to go? Misaq had said to find the heart, and with no other options, Ambrose headed into the forest with a vain hope that he would stumble upon what he needed to find.
Deep within a forest, across a dark lake, through a cave that led deep beneath the island, a woman lying on a bed of flowing water stirred. Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing deep violet eyes. The water swirled, flowing around her like a cloak, setting her to the ground below, her bare feet settling gently into the soft black earth.
Roots hanging from the ceiling extended downward as if with a mind of their own; they twirled around one of the woman’s pale, lovely fingers.
“What do you have to tell me, lovely?” Her soft voice whispered to the dark root.
A moment later, she twisted her full violet lips into a wry smile. Her curly green hair seemed to glow, and tattoos along her pale, lithe body lit up.
“Ah, we have a visitor, you say. Hospitality is important, my dears. Let’s invite him in.”
Her full laugh echoed around the cave as the roots above began to writhe, responding to the will of the Lady of the Lake.