Days passed. Ike camped out by the edge of the waterfall, slowly recovering his mana using Rosamund’s head. The wolf came around every now and again. It kept its distance, wary of him. A few times, Ike threw it scraps of non-wolf jerky. It ignored them whenever he was around, but when he went back to check a few minutes later, the jerky was always gone. Slowly, it drew closer to him, growing less and less afraid of him.

As he waited for it to grow accustomed to him, Ike also waited for his hand to finish the last tidbits of healing, and for his core to fill. It was a slow, quiet life. He spent his days foraging. Every now and again, he’d practice shooting with the shortbow he’d stolen off the bandits, retrieving his arrows after he shot them so he could shoot them again. Once or twice, his efforts yielded him a bird. He chalked it up more to beginner’s luck than actual skill, but either way, the wolf appreciated its half of his dinner those nights.

It was enough to satisfy the System, at any rate. When he checked his skills, Bow Handling appeared on his skill list at level 1. Another Common skill to add to his list.

The few saplings interspersed in the undergrowth now all bore slash marks from his practice with the River-Splitting Sword. Half of them were bisected, slashed through to their lowly canopies from the final upward strike. He practiced in the brook, too, trying to split the waters, but he was still far from the mastery required to split a brook, let alone an actual river.

Despite all his efforts, the skill stayed at the same level it had from the beginning. Ike had started to expect that. Aside from Common or low-level skills, and putting aside the first few easy-to-get levels, offensive skills seemed to require that they were used in battle in order to progress in level.

Or, in other words…they require me to slay monsters, Ike thought, staring into the fire one night. The why part remained beyond his grasp, even if he knew the what. Was it a special type of energy, like lunam in the Abyss? Did he have to use them ‘properly’ to level them up? The System interface had no answers for him, and no matter how long he gazed into its pale blue light, that never changed.

Orin’s book lacked answers, as well. Aside from a few notes on testing out whether stronger monsters yielded better skill progression or not (they did), Orin left the topic mostly untouched.

It makes sense. It’s a practical guide by a hunter for hunters—no, for his own personal use. He didn’t strike me as a philosophical guy, so if he didn’t care, then he probably never bothered to investigate further.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

I wonder if there’s more information out there, somewhere?

He snorted. If there were, it was probably locked deep in some noble’s library, where it would never see the light of day. He didn’t have the money or status to make it anywhere near those books. At best, he might be able to make it as a guard, watching the borders of the upper city, but never allowed to enter it.

Not that it matters now. I don’t think I’m ever going back to the city.

Oh well. I guess I have to figure it out myself. Trial and error.

That morning, he packed up and set off. His hand was healed. His core was half full, more than enough to use any of his skills for the day. Rosamund’s head was cooking up more mana, and could do it anywhere, not just at the top of the waterfall. He had a hunt in mind. Something that lived close to the Abyss and the Fulgur-Loups, but wasn’t too challenging of a kill. If it was too dangerous down in the depths, he could always retreat to the waterfall.

Not that I intend to.

He walked up to the brink. Water cascaded down beside him, splashing over the stones in the center of the cliff. It stairstepped downward, each step between five and ten feet tall. Little pools collected at each of the ‘stairs,’ the water sparkling and clear. The rock itself was smooth, just like the walls of the valley, but he could easily drop from stair to stair without injuring himself now that he was at Rank 1.

Ike grinned. He rolled his arms out and stretched, preparing to descend.

From the corner of his eye, something approached him. Ike turned. His hand went to his sword, ready to draw.

The wolf walked toward him. It moved slowly, its head low and neck outstretched. Silver eyes regarded him, as if waiting for a response.

“You’re coming with me?” Ike asked.

The wolf didn’t give an answer. It sat down, watching him.

It needs a name. Silver streaks in its fur, silver eyes—I can’t call it Silver. That’s already someone else’s name. Er… He twisted his lips, thinking, then tried, “Ful?”

The wolf laid down. It yawned.

Tough crowd. I’ve never named anything before…I’m not good at names. “Fulgur, maybe? What about Loup?”

The wolf sat up. It wagged its tail.

“Loup it is.” Ike tilted his head, checking the wolf’s gender. A girl? Huh.

He glanced at the wolf again. Unable to resist the urge, he stepped closer and raised his hand.

The wolf balked. It backed away, retreating out of his range of attack. Her hackles raised, and she bared her teeth at him.

“Oh,” Ike said, disappointed. He dropped his hand. Backing away, he shook his head. It is a wild monster, after all. I can’t just pet it.

But maybe, in due time…

Ike nodded to himself, a new goal set. He gestured Loup on. “Let’s get moving. It’s time to hunt.”

The wolf stood. She walked up to the edge and gazed over it. Before Ike could worry about her proximity to the edge, she hopped down, bounding from step to step.

I bet she’s hungry. She’s even more eager than I am. Ike adjusted his pack and followed her down, descending into the true depths of the Abyss.