Night settled slowly over the forest. Ike laid on the forest floor, buried in leaves. He watched the bone pile.
Nothing yet. The owl had yet to hunt.
Ike breathed slowly, absorbing the mana in the forest as he waited. He practiced the forearm technique whenever he had enough mana to burn. From holding it for half a heartbeat, to holding it for a second, to holding it for a few seconds, he slowly strengthened his ability to use the skill. At the same time, he refined the flows, slightly changing the course of the mana to optimize it.
That has to be enough. He checked his skill list.
[Name: Ike | Age: 15 | Status: Nm | Rank: 1 [Salamander Slayer]]
Skills: Common: 6 | Rare 1 | … | Unique: 3
Common: Sprinter Lvl 9 | Distance Runner Lvl 10 | Razor Handling Lvl 8 | Spear Handling Lvl 2 | Axe Handling Lvl 4 | Primitive Crafting Lvl 2
Rare: Salamander Healing Lvl 4
Unique: Lightning Dash Lvl 6 | Lightning Grasp Lvl 4 | Lightning Clad (Forearm) Lvl 1
Got the skill! Yes! …Wait. He eyed the (Forearm) tag after the Lightning Clad skill. That implied he could clad more than his forearms. Seeing the tag there confirmed his assumptions. The ‘skill’ he had right now was a diminished form of the true Lightning Clad skill. When he could cover his whole body with lightning, he’d obtain Lightning Clad, instead of Lighting Clad (area of his body). He pursed his lips. Interesting.
He nodded, then paused, looking back at the list. Beside his rank, his title remained the same as before. Salamander Slayer? Still? I killed the mantis…does it only track the most recent or most powerful kill? The rarest? Interesting. I’ll have to keep an eye on it.
With the skill secured, he laid there and breathed, quietly absorbing mana. He waited. And waited. Time ground on. The moon crossed the sky.
Ike blinked slowly, on the verge of falling asleep. He shook his head, fighting off the drowsiness. It worked at first, but within a few minutes, he found himself nodding off again. Ike’s head dipped toward the ground.
A screech startled him awake. Ike startled and almost jumped up, but caught himself at the last second. He snapped his head toward the bone pile.
Nothing, but only for a second. A shadow fell over the pile, and then the beast itself appeared. Flapping all-but-soundless wings, the owl dropped toward the earth. Tonight, it carried a deer in one of its enormous claws. It struck the ground, then screamed in dismay. It flapped its wings deseperately. One claw lifted off the ground, but the other one stuck to the bone pile.
The glue trap had worked. Not just binding the owl to the bones, but binding enough of the bones together into a heavy lump that it weighed the owl down so much it couldn’t escape.
Ike leaped up, wasting no time. He lifted the spear as he closed in.
The owl let out a vicious hoot. It twisted toward him, and its free claw slashed toward Ike.
Ike threw himself forward, sliding on his knees. As he slid forward, he found himself gazing at the owl’s huge eyes. Its vicious beak slashed down toward him.
Lifting the axe, he smacked it at the owl’s beak. With his other hand, he thrust the spear upward, speeding his strike with Lightning Grasp and Lightning Clad. Purple lightning burst around his arm from the elbow down.
Clang! Axe struck beak, and Ike parried the blow away. His spear plunged into the owl’s eye, and Ike shoved it home with all his might.
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The owl screamed in pain. It pulled its head back, yanking the spear out of Ike’s grasp, and tried to hop away. It only made it half a hop before its stuck claw pulled it up short. Panicking, it flapped its wings wildly and thrashed with its free claw.
Ike ran at the owl, charging toward its underbelly. The claw darted toward him. Ike slashed it back with his axe. Blood poured out, and the owl flinched, hurt. It stumbled, then fell, only held up by its stuck foot.
Ike jumped up onto the owl’s belly. He grabbed onto its fine belly feathers and climbed, crawling up toward its head.
The owl battered him with its wings. It drew back its head and jabbed him with its beak. Lifting a hand, Ike slashed at the beak with his axe.
The beak jarred away, but cut a glancing blow to his shoulder. Ike’s offhand weakened, and suddenly it hurt to hold on. He gritted his teeth and forced his hand to grip the feathers. Just a little further.
The owl chittered in pain. It drew its head back, clicking its beak. A gash marred the side of its beak, and Ike could see its tongue through the gap.
He pulled himself up. One more pull. Another. The owl drew back its head again, but too late. Ike slashed into the feathers. The axe cut through nothing, feathers and air, then thunked home. Crimson spilled down the owl’s chest.
I did it. Relieved, Ike released the owl’s feathers and flopped down into the bone pile. His injured shoulder jolted as he struck the ground, but then a wave of relief washed over him. Not having to hold his own weight up was amazing. He’d never thought it could feel so good to let go.
The owl’s eye burned with vengeful light. It was dying, but slowly. It cocked back its head. The beak hurtled down toward Ike.
Shit! Ike grabbed his axe.
The patter of pads. Galloping at Ike. Ike tensed. Two at once? I’m fucked.
A black belly eclipsed the moon, and then a panther landed in front of him, tossing up bits of dirt and bone as it skidded to a halt. The owl turned toward it instead, deep hatred washing away even the vengeance. The panther leaped and caught the owl by the neck, bearing it to the ground. Gore and blood stained the night.
Ike climbed to his feet. He backed away, glancing toward the forest. I don’t think that panther noticed me. I should—
He froze. His eyes widened.
On the bone pile, the panther raised its head. Blood dripped from its jaws. The owl laid prone under it. It licked its lips.
“…Silver?” Ike whispered.
The panther turned and looked at him. The same gold eyes bored into his. A silver scar sliced over its right eye, a white mark in his fur just as it was white on his skin.
Lowering its head just a little, the panther walked over. It drew up to Ike’s feet and knelt, dropping a glittering, translucent orb to the ground.
“It dropped a skill orb?” Ike picked up the orb.
The panther darted away. Ike faced the owl alone.
He stared over his shoulder, in the direction the panther had vanished. His brows furrowed. That was Silver, right? That had to be Silver. Wait, then…is he a monster? Has he been a monster this whole time?
Is that why he lives in the wild? Is that why he doesn’t go into town? No, before that—why does he have human-level intelligence? That’s possible? Monsters can be…what does this mean?
Looking at the dead owl, he scoffed. “You didn’t have human intelligence, did you?” Not even close. Whatever Silver was, he was special. Abnormal.
Or maybe he’s a guy with a skill that turns him into a panther. Yeah. That makes sense. Ike nodded to himself, but felt the cloying grasp of self-delusion close around him. With a sigh, he shook his head. Is there even a skill like that? Who would make that skill? How do you shape your mana to turn you into a panther?
Ike tapped his chin, thinking. Human, or monster? Which was his true form? The way Silver had pushed him into the mud…cats liked pushing things over. Or maybe he’s just an asshole. Silver liked eating fish, but so do I. Silver had a self-cleaning skill, not unlike a cat, and damned if I wouldn’t find it incredibly convenient, too. Silver didn’t carry a weapon, and claimed he didn’t need a sword skill…okay, no, that one’s a little suspicious. Hand-to-hand combat is a thing, sure, but you aren’t going to get far against a twenty-foot-tall owl with your bare hands alone.
On the other hand, Silver was a smith. Cats weren’t known for their smithing skills. Nor their housekeeping, Ike appended, thinking of the cozy cave.
He shook his head again. He knew too little about skills, about magic, about mana. Except for listening to his gut, which told him he’d just seen Silver’s true form, he had no way to know if any of his guesses were on the mark, or impossibly far off.
“I’ll have to ask him,” Ike resolved.
He looked at the orb, then the owl. Hesitating, he bit his lip. Absorb it? Sell it? I don’t know what it is. Probably…hmm. Maybe a skill to strengthen the senses? Or the skill it used to create a net to carry fish? Maybe even something relatively mundane, like flight.
All those skills sound good to me. And I can always sell the corpse. Decided, Ike clenched his hand on the orb. “Absorb!”