It took three years to repatriate the whiteskins that accepted the offer.
Eight out of every ten departed to no longer plague Goldcourt.
Sadly, the last two had devolved into primitive savagery and no amount of offerings had been enough to even get them to the table for a talk.
Nevertheless, Al’s plan had been a success that not even the most speciest detractors could refute.
Safety brought a slow and steady rise to prosperity.
City ruins were rebuilt.
Long abandoned mines in the northern mountains were reclaimed.
Gold was one of the best natural metals when it came to conducting power within all manner of artifacts. Automatons, skyships and many more made use of thin strands in their inner workings.
Naturally, the Aethrans quickly saw that there was power and prestige to be had in Goldcourt.
Al’s time ended with a joyful, but firm goodbye ceremony.
Had his efforts been enough to measure up to the unknown standards Adras was judging him on?
It didn’t make sense to him, though he understood that a God was not to be questioned or doubted.
A message waited for him as soon as he disembarked on his home continent.
The scroll contained two things.
The name of a world he didn’t recognize and a single sentence from Theron.
Become a hero.
The world consisted of one supercontinent where a thousand known factions competed for power and control.
A coalition of several Gods, including Adras, had laid claim to the lands around a large inland lake contained within a long dormant volcano.
The size of it stunned Al even though he had seen many staggering things on his travels.
As soon as he had researched the situation on the world he had understood why Theron had sent him to this place.
How did one become a hero?
No one truly knew.
Certain events transpired, perhaps a village was attacked and one unsuspecting young man or woman fought like a champion to survive and at least save some of the people.
Word spread.
Public acclaim followed.
Proclamations by those with influence provided legitimacy.
Or perhaps a great beast plagued a town, killing livestock and people. Until a lone young hunter risked life and limb to hunt it down.
The hunter continued slaying beasts and monsters that preyed on people.
His name soon became known throughout the region, then perhaps throughout the entire world.
A lone soldier.
The last survivor.
She stood alone, holding the bridge in the face of the savage horde. Perhaps it was the broken gatehouse of a besieged castle. Or she alone held the wall, banner in one hand, blade in the other.
Somehow, against all odds, this soldier held and lived.
The maddening thing was that all these things had happened to countless across the multiverse and yet the individual didn’t become a hero or they did.
Thus, Al sought the objectively worst place a person could find themselves in.
Heroes didn’t shy away. They ran toward the screams.
Fort Hyperion stood deep in the heart of the pass leading into the wide open plains that led to the lake at the heart of their foothold on this world.
Calling it a ‘pass’ was a bit of a misnomer for it was over a thousand meters wide at the narrowest point.
Great sheer cliffs rose thousands of meters on both sides.
There was a disturbing quality to the way they appeared to have been carved not by natural means, but by some gigantic tool akin to the trowels masons used to build walls.
If the Gods knew the truth, they didn’t share.
Al sat in a rough chair. The wood hadn’t been sanded nor sealed as attested by the splinters that threatened his hands and arms.
The garrison recruitment officer regarded him over the scroll of his qualifications and deeds.
“Eidolon of Adras. You must be special. Hunter Level 41, Student Level 7, Magistrate Level 7, Weightlifter Level 5, Eidolon Candidate Level 1. I’d guess that last one is the most important one. I didn’t know that was possible.”
“Who are we to question our Gods?”
The officer ran a hand through her shock of bright pink hair.
“I didn’t know Gods existed until you people annexed my country, so here we are,” she grunted. “Listen, I’m not going to question any of this God stuff. I’ve seen what happens to those that don’t fall in line and I have no desire to be vaporized before I can even take a breath. Tell me what you want and I’ll try to comply to the utmost limit of my authority. I’m just here to fulfill the terms of my contract and head back to my home world with enough coin to buy me the rest of my life in comfort and idleness.”
“I need danger. Specifically, monsters or beasts, natural or magical, to hunt and slay. I’ll also need visibility. I need to become known for my deeds.”
“What? You want a recorder to go along?”
“Recorder?”
“Magic orbs to capture movement and allow everyone far from the act to watch it,” she shook her head, “another thing I had no idea existed.”
Al remembered the rare moving images he had viewed in the museums of Adrasia on the River Icthyion.
It struck him that he had never once questioned how they were made.
“I suppose I can allow someone to accompany me on my hunts with one of these recorders.”
“I don’t know about that. Honestly, I know a bit about hunting myself. Felled my fair share of bladetooth rabbits back on the ranch. From the sounds of the kind of prey you’re after, well, a bumbling recorder is a good way for both of you to get killed. That’d make an exciting recording if you were into that sort of thing.”
“Yes. That would be unwise. Perhaps, you have recorders that are skilled in woodscraft?”
“Doubt it. They mostly work on the front, capturing battles and such.”
The officer’s eyes fell back on the scroll.
“Says here you have a steelwood shortbow with a sylph’s hair bowstring? That sounds magical.”
“It has thrice the draw weight of an unenchanted normal wooden longbow. The bowstring remains strung without adverse effect and it adds additional flight speed along with an extra burst two to three armspans from the target.”
“Sounds like that’d be useful on the front. I’m picturing an explosive arrowhead launched from four times the distance as our longbows. You’re probably pretty fast and a good shot.”
“I… I believe that is possible. Though, I’m a hunter first.”
“What greater prey than man?”
Al could think of a dozen beasts just off the top of his head.
“Well, I guess it’s both our lucky days. You want dangerous beasts and monsters. I can gain acclaim and maybe an early discharge with your name and deeds attached to my ledger. It’s a good thing that the Dominion makes use of monsters and beasts, magical and natural, in their war making.”
“That information wasn’t included in the material I’ve read.”
“Those are a few months behind. The Dominion’s making a real push to take this pass from us. It used to be just Ogre legions and standard-ish humans, if you can call them that what with their weird features, skin and hair color. Honestly, black hair? Another thing I could’ve done without knowing. No offense.”
“In my experience those words accompany an offense.”
“You’re part of the war effort now. You’ll need to toughen that weird dark brown skin of yours.”
The officer scribbled something on a blank sheet of paper and stamped it.
“Take this to the quartermaster. They’ll get you the standard gear and assign you a bunk. Sorry if you were expecting a room to yourself.”
Command assigned Al a role as a solo scout.
Odd, since standard doctrine called for a minimum of pairs working within a larger team to cover a larger area.
A surprise greeted him inside the scout commander’s tent.
The woman was tall, lean. She was clad in leather armor in brown with green stripes, just like his own.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Indeed, the only clothing that he always took with him on his travels were brown with green stripes. Tunic, trousers, chiton and even his underclothes.
The Nemean Liger had kept him from many a serious injury over the years. Be it from mundane tooth and claw to mundane blades and arrowheads in the light of day or the dark of night.
“Scrawny Alcaestus?” Damaris’ eyes narrowed.
She looked much the same.
Dark hair cut short.
The only difference was that she had picked up a few more scars.
A big one tugged the side of her mouth up into a perpetual grin.
“Damaris,” he remembered what to say, “it’s good to see you after all this time. I’m surprised to see you here.”
“Stole the words from my mouth. So, you’re the scout they want me to send out there on his own.”
“That’s correct.”
“Any reason why? Not that I’m questioning orders, but… I’m questioning orders. The thing is solo scouting tends to work out badly for us. We lose the scout to those vile hierophants’ cauldrons. We lose the information. That’s why I changed things.”
“Eidolon Theron’s doing. I’m to gain acclaim and a hero class by honoring Adras’ Labors with a lesser version of my own.”
“So, that’s why they took you.”
“Yes.”
“Are you close?”
“Only Adras knows.”
“I’ve heard rumors. You know how the army is. Half-truths trickle down like piss from a leaky cock. Well, tell me what I’m working with here. I don’t want to throw you into the Dominion’s cook pots without plausible deniability. Last thing I want is an eidolon’s displeasure, let alone our God.”
“I can’t see them turning their anger toward you. They expect me to hold my own fate. Rise or fall, it sits upon my shoulders, like Adras when he held up a world.”
“Okay, then how about I don’t want to cause the death or worse of a childhood friend by placing him in a situation that doesn’t fit his strengths?”
“I believe the greater the challenge the greater the reward.”
“Yeah, true. However, we’re fighting a war. Yours aren’t the only stakes that matter. My main concern is doing our best to contribute to victory. Now, if that isn’t acceptable, then I’ll have to send you to someone else and I’m in command of all scouts and skirmishers in this fort.”
“This place sees the most activity. I need to be here.”
“What am I working with?”
“Level 41 Hunter is my only class that matters. Like you, I have light armor made out of a Nemean Liger.”
“Wait? Do I have you to thank? My entire team got a crate of this stuff,” she tapped the soft, supple, yet nearly impenetrable hide, “a few months ago.”
“That seems likely.”
“Friends in high places, huh? Please continue,” she waved a hand.
“I have a steelwood shortbow with a sylph’s hair bowstring. Five quivers of enchanted mithril arrows. Alchemical sprays and liquids to help conceal my presence in the wilderness. Assorted poison and venom. And silent step boots.”
“Huh? I would’ve thought someone favored by an eidolon would be dripping in enchanted and magical gear. No dragontooth blade? Titan gloves? Belt of the giant?”
“Such would trivialize this level of challenge.”
“Sure, but you can’t beat challenges when you’re dead.”
“That’s factual.”
“Glad you haven’t changed,” she snorted before pulling a thin booklet from her desk. “Read this. Study it. Commit it to memory. You aren’t leaving the fort until you pass the test.”
“Test?”
“Written and verbal.”
“Okay.”
“What? No complaint? I’d have thought you’d want to get out and start building a heroic reputation right away.”
“Impatience is death when on the hunt.”
“Good to hear. That’ll cover what to expect out there.”
“I’d like to hear your thoughts as my commander.”
“The enemy is organized and professional when it comes to the work of war, which is confusing since they are led by vile, blood magic-wielding monsters. From what I’ve seen, I’d wager gold on the fact that hierophants tend to insanity. Guess it means that the cragants have good officers since they don’t fight like they’re led by lunatics.”
“Not ogres?”
“That’s what they call themselves. The only thing they have in common with ogres is that they’re big and strong. They can break you in half like a rotted stick or pluck your limbs from you body like a roast chicken and I almost prefer running into them out in the forest rather than the monsters they’ve let loose.”
“Forest? I haven’t been briefed on the environment, but from what I’ve seen on my journey through the pass a forest isn’t what I expected.”
“Took four eidolons to grow about five kilometers deep across the pass. We needed the wood to build this fort so far from our resources. Bad bit of business to watch them do it. Bled thousands. Sure, they were criminals and other scum, but it was too close to what those hierophants do for my tastes.”
“The natural world exists in the cycle of life and death.”
“That didn’t feel natural to me, but here I am, blaspheming. You’re not going to report me, are you?”
“No. Words are words.”
“The forest was a boon that is now a curse. We can’t penetrate deeply as we did before the Dominion unleashed their monsters.
Which means that we have no eyes on their movements beyond the pass.”
“Skyships?”
“Flying monsters are a nice counter. Command has decided that they’re too costly to waste on mere monsters. Thus, the hierophants are able to bombard us with their artillery rituals with little concern on their end. You came at a good time,” she explained, “we’re between bombardments. Fortunately, our defenses have held out just fine. It’s just bad for morale. Dark magic bursting against our shields for days at a time. It’d be great if we could pull off a decapitation strike and bag a hierophant or two, but… monsters…” she held out her hand.
“You don’t have specialized monster slayers?”
“We did… it seems that you’re their replacement.”
“Have you considered burning the forest? With the fort built, you have less need for its existence.”
“That idea has been broached, but command determined that it would be a grave insult to the eidolons that spent their power to grow it. You know, it’d be great if the eidolons just smashed the Dominion, but then I remember what happened to the army that was too close to an Eidolon of Simeht as she battled one of the Dominion’s golden winged angels. Sort of makes all this pointless if the land gets blasted into oblivion alongside all us mere mortals. Can you turn into an eidolon that doesn’t cause massive collateral damage?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll settle for you hunting down some of those monsters and maybe you can bag a hierophant too.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“That’s about all I can ask. C’mon,” she shot to her feet, “I’ll introduce you to the others.”
The expected bombardment began a few days later.
Dark magic streaked from the depths of the forest, arcing across the night sky before bursting against the magic shields protecting the fort.
Al took a moment to watch before slipping into the forest.
The magic hung heavy in the air.
There was something in it that reminded him of a predator’s den.
It stank of dying and the dead.
Which was good for him.
It would further confuse the lurking monsters.
Along with all the additional methods he used to conceal his presence.
The dark night was like twilight to his Skill-enhanced eyes.
His ears twitched as it picked up sounds beyond natural human capability.
A tracking Skill gave him vague directions to where the dangers lurked.
Too many.
He focused until he found one that was close and relatively isolated from the rest.
Target marked he moved quickly, yet quietly through the unnatural growth.
He found his first monster within a half hour.
To his surprise it appeared as a mortal man in his eyes, though not within his hunter’s senses. With the latter he saw a great predator that devoured all it could in the vain effort to fill an unending hunger.
The man sat in a tree branch.
No weapons.
Just a dirty chiton tied with a frayed and bloodstained rope around the waist.
The man had light, wheat-colored hair that hung long and lank, encrusted with what appeared to be blood and viscera.
His face contained the same narrow features that Al saw in the mirror, but with skin the same pink shade as Dorion.
“Come on out and play,” the monster wearing the skin of a man whispered. “I know you’re out there trying to sneak up on me like a little bitch.”
Al nocked, drew and loosed in one smooth motion.
The mithril arrow broke the night’s quiet with a bang as it moved too quickly for the air to part before it. Rather the enchanted arrow broke it as though it was an invisible wall.
The monster man cursed as his hands blurred.
Al didn’t see what happened next as he moved quickly to relocate after having revealed his position.
The monster man touched the red line opened up on the side of his face.
He examined the arrow. Tried to break it and failed. “What the fuck even is this thing? You some kind of elite assassin?” he called out. “A weird ass Robin Hood.”
Al wasn’t familiar with the manner of speech or what sounded like a name.
He considered fleeing.
He hadn’t expected a sapient opponent.
Such things carried greater danger.
“You got some good stealth Skills or magic-whatever. Not like those other bitches I ate. Too bad for you that I’m not even in my final form, yet. So, how about it? Why don’t you show yourself so I don’t have to go there? Cause that’s the last thing you want. When I go all the way I’ll be looking to eat you alive.”
The wise move was the cautious move.
Al needed to retreat and bring news of this back to Damaris.
Her booklet hadn’t made mention of this sapient monster pretending to be a man.
He supposed that if the monster was being honest then none of the scouts had survived an encounter to bring word back.
But, he remembered why Theron had sent him to this place.
To become a hero meant being bold. It meant facing and overcoming challenges beyond him.
He nocked three arrows.
Triple shot.
He dipped around to another twisted tree.
Two arrows in quick succession.
Curving shot.
The monster man’s hands blurred, catching all three initial arrows.
“Fancy metal sha—”
The last two arrows completed their arc, meeting at the monster man’s head.
Dry leaves crunched beneath the fallen body.
Al maintained his silent breathing. Not daring to even shift from his hiding spot.
There was nothing more dangerous than a monster or beast at death’s door and so he was content to wait.
He had reached five hundred on his silent count when the monster man stirred.
“Patient motherfucker aren’t you,” the monster man rose, ripping the arrows from his head. “I’ve got a bead on you now. Fucked around and now you’re going to find out.”
Chiton tore as he suddenly swelled in size.
Muscles bulged grotesquely, ripping through flesh in some places, leaking red.
Teeth sharpened and elongated.
Jaw enlarged, unhinging wide enough to bite a man’s head off his shoulders.
Tongue lengthened, undulating like a serpent searching for prey.
The forest exploded around Al.
He dived out of the way.
Jagged splinters slid across his Nemean Liger hide armor.
The thunderous steps reminded him of a charging trihorn.
This was no longer a hunt.
It was a proper fight.