The few notes we’ve obtained over the years all point to one thing - that a convergence is a poor solution to the underlying problem. They tend to go wild if left unchecked and cause even greater damage to the surrounding environment. It’s fortunate then, that there are plenty of brave idiots who seek them out for personal gain.

-Excerpt from ‘Charting the Tide: Esoteric Phenomenon and More’ by various contributors

Something rattled as Rose shook the pistol to get the last of the burnt gunpowder out. She gave it a quick blow to clear away any stubborn remains before pouring in the fresh powder. Trent was in dire straits.

He had avoided a fatal blow from the last charge, but with so little distance between him and the stag now it would be near impossible to repeat the same feat.

And that wasn’t the only obstacle they faced. Already the blood dripping down its hind leg had dried and the bullet wound had scabbed over. It was an inhuman rate of regeneration, but they weren’t facing a human.

Rose wasn’t even sure the strange beast before her could be considered an animal given the unchecked violence it was displaying, and the momentary gaze they had shared imprinted a primal terror in her soul.

While the gunshots were doing a little damage they seemed ineffective when it came to permanently putting down the stag. They needed a new approach, but without a better weapon Rose was stumped for solutions.

That didn’t stop her from blasting the stag again, though she took more care with her aim this time. It was difficult to line up the shot with her shaking hands. She took a deep breath and narrowed her focus.

She felt an astute difference as her new trait kicked in. It was as though everything except her target and the iron sights of the pistol melted away.

This time when she gazed into the endless abyss that lay behind its obsidian eyes, Rose didn’t feel as though she was slipping away from her body. She fired.

Electric blue showered Trent and the forest around him as the iron ball tore through the stag’s head. It stumbled forward and let out an ear-splitting bellow, but continued on its lumbering charge towards the vulnerable pirate.

Skill up!

Pistols 2 > 3

Skill up!

Firearms 1 > 2

Skill up!

Focus 10 > 11

Skills seemed to level at a much faster rate when they were used in high stakes situations. In the last few days alone Rose’s life had been on the line multiple times. It had been equal parts thrilling and terrifying, but all of her skills had made tremendous gains and she had gained quite a few more.

He had turned away from her and raised an arm to guard against the beast’s attack. “Aagh,” he cried out as its antlers pierced through his forearm and dug into his chest. His defence had held, but not without great cost.

Rose stuffed the pistol back into her belt, wincing when the still-hot barrel singed the skin on her stomach. Not considering her own safety she charged towards the stag with a rousing battle cry.

It turned its head towards her. Only a fraction, but that was enough to let Trent free his other arm. A fresh shower of blue splattered over him from the underbelly of the beast as he sliced it open with his broad cutlass.

The surprise blow had devastated the stag, but unfortunately for Trent it tore its head away during its anguished struggle. Rose winced at the crunch as his arm was torn off at the socket, squirting vibrant crimson across the blue monochrome of the forest.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Fuck that hurt,” he said, doing a fantastic job of not displaying the agony he must be feeling on his face. Rose’s admiration for the man grew by the second, but there was no time to stand still in awe. The battle had reached a pivotal moment.

Her goal changed the instant Trent’s blade had carved open the stag’s guts. If the beast was uninjured her body weight would have little impact when thrown against it, but right now it was stumbling from side to side and shaking uncontrollably.

Her shoulder was the first part of her to slam into its torso and a jolt of pain washed through her from the impact of colliding with its solid rib cage.

For a brief moment she feared that even with her full weight thrown into the blow it wouldn’t have any effect, but then the beast’s nearest leg buckled. Dirt and moss showered her face as its hoof carved through the forest floor and the stag tumbled into the trunk of the broken tree.

It unleashed an eerie moaning bellow, far weaker than its earlier battle cries. Rose recoiled nonetheless, scared it was about to do something odd to shift the tides of battle. However, her fears proved unfounded when she saw a surging stream of electric blue flowing down the splintered trunk. It seemed as though an errant piece of the once proud tree had claimed revenge on the monstrous stag.

It stared into her eyes with fury and hatred, right up until the moment its final breath blew a falling leaf off its original wisping path.

You have learned a new skill!

Unarmed Combat 0 > 1

Her shoulders dropped and she let out the breath she had been holding. As the adrenaline wore thin her shoulder started to ache in protest of its earlier treatment and her mouth was tangy with the taste of copper. Most of her new skills were geared towards fighting or killing and she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that, but she had little time for her own worries.

A harsh wheeze cut through the silence. “Fantastic job-” Trent started to praise her efforts but halfway through erupted into a coughing fit that sent spittle and a little blood spraying across the moss - and his already blood soaked shirt.

She rushed to his side and gathered as much moss and leaves as she could to form a makeshift pillow, before propping his head up and resting two fingers on his neck to check the man’s pulse. “Take it easy Trent, that’s a real nasty wound you’ve got there. I hope the stag didn’t pierce your lung,” she said, not letting the terror she felt creep into her voice.

“Don’t worry about poor old me, Rose. I’ve endured worse hardships than a little flesh wound and I’ll surely suffer more in future. Instead you should try to harvest those antlers before the corpse starts to degrade. It will happen faster than you think in a place like this,” he said.

“What do you mean? I can’t carry those huge antlers around with me, especially not if I have to give you a hand with walking.” Her brow creased and she threw him a concerned glance. Perhaps the blood loss is getting to him already.

“Wait… Is this the first time you’ve killed a monster, Rose? That would track. I’ll guide you,” he replied, moving to sit up and hobble towards the corpse.

Rose planted a firm hand on his shoulder and pushed him back into the mossy pillow. “Don’t move, you’ll make it worse. I don’t even know how you’re still awake right now. I think…” her voice trailed off when she looked at the bloody mess that was left of his shoulder.

Without emergency treatment the man was at imminent risk of death. Even with the shoddy treatment she would be able to offer him there were still a plethora of ways it could go wrong. Infection, blood loss. Just the lack of mobility would make him more vulnerable to the other threats hiding in the forest. Rose had a suspicion the stag was just the beginning.

“I think we need to cauterise the wound. That’s the only thing I can think of right now. I’m not a doctor. Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

They hadn’t gone far from their campsite on the beach. Her plan was simple. Rush back as fast as her exhausted legs would carry her with Trent’s cutlass, heat it up in the fire and then bring it back before it cooled to heat seal the wound.

A terrible, hastily formed plan. It was the only option they had, unless Trent was hiding a miracle up his sleeves. He’d managed to pull plenty of weapons from that jacket of his, but Rose suspected this would be a step too far for the brilliant buccaneer.

With a final warning glare at him to stay put, she rose to her feet and moved towards where his cutlass lay on the forest floor. An ice cold hand gripped her ankle and she fell flat on her face. The moss tastes like lemons.

She spat out the dirt and moss that she’d had slipped into her mouth and turned to face Trent with undisguised anger. “What?” she spat. The goodwill she had cultivated towards him was falling apart with each small act of defiance.

“I told you I’d be fine for the time being,” he said. His tone was firm. He had a serious glint in his eye, similar to how Captain Bradshawe’s whole personality had shifted when he was inspiring the crew ahead of the battle with the pirates. “Now, listen to me and harvest those antlers. The body is already being claimed by the tide. You don’t have long and it might take a while since it’s your first time dealing with a monster’s corpse.”