Janet’s emotional state was in shambles. She reminded herself to take care that that did not become a habit.

In any fight her first instinct was to flee, not turn and face the danger head-on. She just couldn’t afford to. Like the Lancing Deer bull, the vast majority of her opponents could easily pound her to a pulp whenever they felt like it.

And that was not counting the humans who would eventually join the hunt for her, with their versatile bag of tricks. Tricks she was yet to learn and had no idea on where to begin.

Something was warping her thought patterns. There was no way in hell she’d ever turn back to a fight she was clearly losing.

As she stood there ruminating, she felt, more than heard, the ominous whistle. The bull had released its next attack. Another cone of water accelerated to lethal speeds.

Janet went to dodge towards her left, but something told her to just collapse into a ball. That instinct saved her life.

On the ground a mere three steps in front her, three tiny holes drilled into the wet earth. The beast had accounted for her dodges and prepared a counter for the extent of evading ability she had displayed.

Janet expected such a trick from a Lancing Bull. Their projectiles could range from tiny bullets the size of a grain of sand, all the way to building-sized lances that could break down a city wall in one strike. All that was par for the course.

What stilled Janet’s heart and sent a shiver down her spine, was the mental effect.

This was no normal bull, Janet felt, as she turned on her heels and rocketed into the dense undergrowth. Hopefully the bull’s territory was not that expansive, and her retreat would save her.

Territorial animals tended to respect the territories of others. Breaching lines was seen as an act of aggression, so Janet hoped desperately as she ran that she'd soon cross past the bull's claimed land.

Right on her footsteps, she heard the telltale thump-thump of heavy hooves on soft vegetation. A quick look back revealed a head topped in grey antlers, behind which was a tuft of blue hair running all the way down to the Lancing Deer’s shoulders, where it erupted into a glorious mane.

There was another whistle, and Janet ducked behind a tree.

The bull strolled like a king in his court as Janet breathlessly dodged and weaved between trees and bushes. Eight times already she’d armed and released a [Shadow Bolt], and the bolts had connected with the beast’s hulking form.

The only problem was the sheer size and density of its magic.

The bolts one and all were shrugged way like a child’s blows and answered with a screaming bullet of water.

Janet ran, weaved, dodged, and barely survived by the skin of her teeth for countless minutes. If she’d been running in a straight line, the distance covered would have counted in kilometers.

Just how large was the bull’s territory?

She was too late to dodge a screaming bullet. She was slowly growing sluggish as exhaustion set in and her stamina bottomed out. The projectile pierced right through her shoulder, its residual momentum throwing her to the ground.

As she winced in pain standing up, Janet charged and released two [Shadow Bolts], one from each palm. There was yet another perturbation in the ambient mana as the bolts collided with the bull. The hulking beast remained unfazed, its eyes not leaving its victim for a single second.

Janet needed to come up with another plan, and quick.

She’d been traipsing around in her little world thinking that she was doing well. She was regularly eating meat, had countless fruits in storage still fresh as they’d been at the moment of their picking, and her abilities were progressing smoothly.

Just a week ago, she’d never have been capable of dodging the bull’s projectiles. That was how far she’d come.

It unfortunately was not far enough.

Just as the dark thought entered her head, Janet was forced to dodge. The bullet of water still clipped her other arm. The bull had accounted for her clumsy attempt at the art of dodging.

In the process of righting herself, she twisted her ankle.

Every subsequent step was an excruciating affair, but Janet held on with tears in her eyes. Her only goal was to get away.

Perhaps it would have been better to give up? Even if she escaped from this behemoth, another would take its place, then another. She would forever be running, chasing a peace that was forever in sight, yet out of finger’s reach.

Just this once, this final time, Janet would be right to throw in the towel. She was almost out of mana. Her shadow constructs were too flimsy to even ruffle one of the behemoth’s hairs, and her bolts – her crowning achievement – were like love taps to its absolute might.

Janet felt the familiar fog of despair envelop all her senses. Her arms fell limp by her side. With both of them disabled, how could she ever hope to put up a fight?

Her twisted ankle was useless. She could not run while it flared up with pain at the slightest movement.

She wanted a rest, a respite however momentary, from her endless struggle. First the Gatherers, then the bull, then… did she even want to know what would come next?

Janet wanted to lay down and weep. What could it hurt? This fight was well and truly done, her defeat final and resounding. At least she’d gone out in a blaze of glory, battling a beast that was miles out of her punching range.

A niggling doubt crept into her mind. Could a one-sided slog be considered glorious? The weight of the question nearly brought her to her knees, almost accomplishing where the depressive thoughts had failed.

Ahead of her was more jungle. Beside her, a tree. Behind came the slow stroll of a beast on a mission. The situation brought Janet back to that first night after she left town. But... was today's Janet really the same girl she'd been back then?

She bit down on her tongue, the pain infusing her mind with some clarity and clearing up some of that brain fog. A resounding slap on her face, and the sting brought her mind right to the present.

What the hell? Nobody was prouder than Janet of how far she’d come in a week. A piddling week! A month ago, she could not fathom ever becoming a wielder of magic. She was an impoverished urchin with but the rags on her back to her name.

Now, she was a hole new Janet! She had magic, she could put up a reasonable fight and run whenever that was impossible…

In her mind, she was the luckiest girl in the whole rotten fucking world!

By the end of her internal monologue, Janet's hands were in fists, her eyes staring pointedly ahead. She went to take another step, her hurting ankle be damned...

A voice like the squeak of chalk on a board screeched directly into Janet’s mind.

Janet was shivering. With cold. Her eyes blinked open and took in her wet leathers.

Just meters away, she could see upturned loam, its scent fresh and heady in the air. A downed tree was less than 100 meters away, a 30-centimeter-wide hole through the standing remains of its trunk.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

She tried to rub the disbelief out of her eyes. The picture remained unchanged.

To her right, the bull sipped noisily from the stream. And was that mirth Janet detected in its eye?

“What the fuck is going on!” Janet shouted at her disheveled reflection in the clear water.

Janet looked around. The only other being in close vicinity was the bull. The blue tuft of hair on its neck was waving happily in the wind.

Looking closer, Janet noticed that its eyes were a deep black, with a golden iris rimmed in iridescent blue. Within the eye she could spot particles of mana swirling about like jolly tadpoles in a pond…

Janet turned her sight onto herself, particularly her insides. Her mana was completely topped off. Her mind felt strange, like there was a dense fog over her thoughts, but everything was otherwise normal.

She wanted to inspect her complete state, from core to soul, but some deep subconscious urging keeping her awareness from going that deep. She did not know whether the urging was borne out of her instinct or an external effect. Either way, she allowed herself to let that line of thought fizzle out.

‘Wait, I can see mana?’ Janet wondered as her eyes tracked back to the Lancing Deer’s eyes. She had to admit, they were beautiful, especially with the flecks of mana dancing about. They suited such a powerful being, their presence reminding Janet of the Thunder Owl's magnificence...

‘That voice again. Am I hallucinating?’

The voice was laced with humor. Across the stream, the bull loudly sipped water once more, and blinked very, very slowly.

Janet tilted her head. She felt her fingers close upon her dagger. Was this… beast, toying with her?

“You’re talking inside my head,” Janet stated, her voice disbelieving. “I’m talking to a beast, and its voice is inside my head.”

Janet was still reeling, but she had been weak for long enough to understand an ultimatum.

“What should I call your… kind, then?”

‘Okay, that was a non-answer answer if I ever heard one…’

Catching herself thinking insulting thoughts, Janet brow filed with sweat. She hurried to bow in apology towards the beast, only to fail. She literally could not get her spine to bend. She remembered how to do so, and she could feel that her intention was communicated to whatever section of her brain enabled movement, but her muscles refused to budge.

Her mind was blown. She just had to ask. “How did you accomplish that?”

Janet ignored the implied insult that she was slow in the head that was communicated in the patronizing tone of the message.

So that was how she’d been led to believe she was running for her life as her bolts did squat against the bull. Things made a bit more sense now.

On another note, was her magic really that useless, or had that been an illusion as well?

How did he know about her ace…? Oh, he was reading her brain, of course.

“What do you mean Level 3? Is that some measure of strength? And what was that about the Circle?”

She did not know whether an answer would be forthcoming, but it was worth a try to ask. The bull was not trying to kill her, so why not try and extract some answers?

“Sorry about that.”

The bull did not answer her question, so she asked it again, more demandingly this time.

The admission felt genuine in a way Janet had little counter against, so she asked the only question that came to her mind. she knew she would hate the answer.

She did not even have to open her mouth.

There was a pause as the bull stared into the stream, then he delivered the gut punch.

Janet felt a rush of anger, but it was smothered under the realization that anger was useless. She could tell that the bull spoke only the truth. She could only swallow her pride for now, and hope to grow strong enough to one day challenge his pompous ass.

“How do I grow in level quickly?” she whispered plaintively, not expecting an answer.

“Such is nature's truth, the Law of the Wild,” Janet finished the famous quote she’d seen repeated a thousand times in ancient manuscripts. It was called the Mantra of Nagn'Mamor after one of the greatest figures in ancient history.

The bull looked up, its eyes narrowed. Janet assumed the reaction was at the fact that she knew the mantra at all. That particular law was not very favored among ‘people’, yet Janet had lived under its tyranny all her life, so she had found comfort and understanding in reciting it whenever things went particularly horribly for her.

The bull held her gaze for a full minute. Janet could not look away. She tried breaking the stare, and failed.

Oops, Janet blushed as she realized she'd spoken in one of the very, very ancient languages she'd acquired in her studies. Had she fibbed the pronunciation of the bull's language?

Suddenly, Janet felt as the fog in her mind shifted in ways she did not understand, before it suddenly disappeared utterly.

She should have exhaled in relief. The worry and uncertainty that inundated her mind at what would happen next prevented that. She tried formulating an apology, but the words just wouldn't form.

A glint of light appeared in one of the bull’s eyes. It was one of the swirling flecks of mana becoming larger, Janet realized. Without warning, the golden fleck left the bull’s eye and became invisible to Janet’s sight.

Just as she was beginning to wonder what the reason was for the unbidden light show, she felt something pierce through her forehead, though not physically. Janet took three quick, panicked steps backwards as she recognized that the fleck had pierced through the weave of mana around her mind.

‘Someone could do that?’ she panicked. ‘Is this another mental attack?’

Before she could exhale, a storm erupted inside her head. That had not been a speck of mana. It was a whole fucking library, and the bull had just stuffed it into her very tiny brain. It felt like an elephant trying to settle inside a sunflower shell.

Janet saw some tidbits as the knowledge organized itself. Some knowledge was about spells and mana, some about martial techniques complete with illustrations of martial forms… it was like the books in Lakewood’s library, only inside her brain.

Was this how practitioners learnt, by having knowledge shoved into their brains?

‘Oh, what’s this?’

A particular set of information drew Janet’s attention. It was all about something called the [Havenhurst Jungle]. From what Janet could tell, more than 70% of the information stuffed into her head was about this one place.

There were maps of varied jungle terrains from lofty mountains to bare, dry-as-bone canyons, along with the names of beasts that lived there and their approximate levels. More than that was the entire library’s worth of knowledge about herbs, fruits, minerals, and other natural treasures that could be found inside the Jungle.

Before Janet could process the implications of the statement, a parting message arrive in her ear. This one did not feel like nails on glass, but was rather a deep masculine voice that boomed with confidence and just the slightest hint of warmth.

“Whatever you decide to do after this, cultivate that budding [Mana Sight] I detected. It is one of the hardest Skills to develop naturally, and one of the most expensive to acquire otherwise,” the bull's mouth did not move one bit.

There was static, like something was interfering with the signal. Janet detected a violent twist in the mana, then two simple words arrived, so silent she had to concentrate to discern their content.

‘What the hell does that mean? Isn’t that what I’ve been doing all this time, not dying?’

Janet wanted to blurt her grumblings aloud, but the image of the Lancing Deer in her sight was shimmering like a mirage. The bull’s reflection in the water rose from the stream and combined with the shimmer, before they both shrank to a glowing ball of amorphous shapes and colors then disappeared with an audible pop.

She might have seen the image of a regal-looking man with blue hair and a cane in his hand overlaid on the combined image, but she dismissed it as yet another figment of her thoroughly blown mind.

The opposite bank still sported a patch of exposed humus. The broken tree was still snapped in half with a hole slowly leaking mana, and her clothes were even now sticking to her skin, their ends dripping with cold wetness.

And… were those letters at the corner of her vision? Had the bull's parting gift given her head trauma?

She closed her eyes, shook her head, and even tried to rub the letters out of her eyes like an eye booger. Her field of vision was still occupied by the three striking words, and a series of dots that kept cycling in and out of sight.

Welcome, Practitioner.

Initializing…

The static returned. It was so loud enough that Janet could barely hear her thoughts, and caused the throbbing in her head to rise to new heights. Each pump of her blood felt like the fall of hammers upon her mushy brain.

Suddenly, the world seemed to lurch forwards, and Janet saw the ground rising to meet her face.

'Oh, he meant don’t die from this! Was I far enough from the stream?'