Before TJ could curse to himself, the System continued to give its warning.
The previously threatening wildlife will remain much the same as before, but will gain levels at an accelerated rate. Additional, non-native threats will be integrated to each Tutorial area. The non-native threats will provide additional experience according to the commensurate increase in danger and difficulty they provide. There will be a significantly increased density of threats to encounter from now on. The total number of threats within the Tutorial will steadily climb for the next 196 hours, after which no additional threats will be created. Note that the total quantity of threats within the Tutorial is set, and each threat dispatched is one less that will participate in the second phase of the Tutorial.
The realization that he couldn’t do this alone was immediately and obviously apparent to TJ. If there were more things that constantly grew in number and power as they hunted him and any other human in the area, then he needed to make his way into town with support. Otherwise, he would die if it was more than a couple more miles to get there.
TJ decisively turned to return to the cabin. Any delay could result in him being ambushed. He wanted to shift and rush back, but losing the backpack could be much more detrimental than delaying his arrival. With no way to carry their things, he and Stanton would be severely limited in how much food and other supplies they could bring with them, and that could prove deadly. With a deep sniff, TJ tried to see if he could smell anything approaching, anything he could do to make sure he could get back to the relative safety of the cabin.
Nothing suspicious, wet dog or the distinctive smell of reptile. No sounds of stalking feet or anything else. TJ could smell the vague hint of spring approaching, leaves beginning to sprout once more, but tinged with rust–
It was January 16th. TJ lunged forward, eyes and heart racing as his mind made the connection. Two spears sunk home in his hamstrings. Agony flashed and filled TJ’s mind. Without caring about his clothes, he activated Divine Transformation. As a coatl, his senses expanded, and the little goblinoid things’ presence became obvious. A faint shimmer surrounded the space where they ambushed him, obscuring his view, but he could taste them. They smelled of spring, and greenery. And blood.
They’d pulled their spears out of his flesh when he shifted, and specks of blood patterned the dirt road under their nearly invisible feet. Never having used it before, TJ activated Primal Savagery to give himself every advantage he could.
You have currently equipped pre-Integration equipment. You cannot use the Primal Savagery Skill at this time.
He hissed in impotent rage as he lunged towards the nearest aggressor. It screeched like a hawk and dodged to the side while attempting to put out his eye. TJ ducked, instead raking the spear over his raised eyebrow and through his mane of feathers. Several fluttered to the ground as he pressed his attack. After it dodged the second time and the other ambusher plunged its spear into TJ’s side, he let the agony of his failed rebuttal calm him.
Two more times TJ made wild lunges, pretending to be desperate. Then, on the third, as the matador-like thing dodged again, TJ’s tail caught its ankle. He constricted, its fragile bones crackling like dry tinder. It screeched again, the sound more plaintive this time. It was stuck, though, and TJ’s cavernous maw flashed once. The little creature attempted to raise its spear in defiance, but TJ knew it was coming. Instead, his needle-sharp teeth sunk deep into its chest.
As its blood flowed freely down his throat, its magical camouflage dissipated, leaving a furry black thing in his jaws. It wriggled and tried to escape, but TJ opened his mouth wider, just to slam it shut with even greater force. Ribs cracked then cumbled, and its wheezing breaths struggled and began to die out. TJ didn’t forget the other, though, and dropped the crippled goblin to the ground just in time to take another spear to the neck.
Though it sought his eye, TJ avoided the strike enough to have the hardened tip skitter off his mane and scales. The goblin, seeing its companion felled and its ambush failed, attempted to escape. Its presence faded even more, but the coatl’s tongue could still taste it. It had turned its back to him. Foolish, disbelieving that he couldn’t find it. With a final twist of his full body, TJ’s tail smashed into the side of the goblin’s knees. One bent with a wet snap, and it fell, screaming like a hawk. The coatl showed no mercy, its tail raised up high before crashing down on its skull. He turned and did the same to the first, whose wheezes were quickly dying down. The System’s notifications assured TJ that his hunt was over.
2 Pukwudgies, Level 3, slain. Experience gained.
There was no relief from the pain of his wounds with the notification. No level then. TJ quickly checked his Status:
Health Points (HP): 562/700
Mana Points (MP): 200/200
Stamina: 591/680
Nothing life-threatening, then. The wounds had been deep, but nowhere vital, and hadn’t even triggered a Bleed affliction. Even so, it had sucked, and TJ made special note of how to see, hear, or smell the bastard ambushers before they appeared. The first, and best option, was probably leveling up Neophyte.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
TJ could feel that Neophyte was so close to the fifth level, but not quite there. Something else would need to die to feed him his next Skill, but the urgency he found himself in was too great to seek out something else to kill. If several of these found Stanton when he wasn’t ready… TJ took several tastes of the air, making sure he couldn’t smell anything else approaching, and was rewarded with a relative surety that there wouldn’t be anything ambushing him just yet. He dropped out of Divine Transformation, standing in the middle of the road in just his pants and boots, his shirt, jacket, and backpack strewn wildly around the path.
With a shiver, TJ pulled the shirt, then jacket around him before tossing one of the “pukwudgie” bodies into his backpack. He cinched it carefully around his waist, trying to make sure he could bring it all with him. Then, making especially sure to transform with all his clothing, TJ reactivated Divine Transformation. The coatl laid coiled where TJ had stood, and already, the smell of other pukwudgies approached. Without even the time to curse, TJ gingerly picked the other body up and began slithering away from the scene of the fight as fast as he could.
The time passed quickly, though TJ’s ability to sense anything nearby was dampened by the creature occupying his mouth, and he considered dropping it in the name of caution, but the angry part of him demanded that the pukwudgies offer their flesh along with their lives to him. They dared to ambush him, so they would serve to help him along. At least, contrary to how goblins had always been portrayed, the pukwudgie in his mouth smelled good, if slightly marred by the scent of blood.
Three other pairs of hiding goblin-things attempted to ambush TJ on his route back to the cabin. So far, they always came in pairs, and if their numbers continued to grow, then next time might have enough to swarm him to death. More importantly for now, though, he quickly found that his speed outclassed their own, and his haste pushed TJ to greater heights than he’d believed his unfamiliar snake form could achieve. Disregarding his disbelief, though, TJ made his way back to the cabin in less than half the time it had taken for him to get there. The worrying sound of several gunshots beckoned him onward.
In the clearing, TJ spat out the corpse and took a deep taste of the air. Blood, and not his own. Pukwudgie, nearly certainly. Just the one he was carrying? And another’s. More acrid. Stanton. Gunpowder.
A mere moment was all it took for TJ to slither up and through the bannister that ringed the wraparound porch, disregarding the usual path for entrance. The taste of blood was thicker in the air, and the windows in the cabin’s door were shattered, a pukwudgie body prone and bleeding. The smell of gunpowder threatened to choke TJ, but he rushed into the cabin, ready to defend or avenge Stanton as necessary. Rustling in the cabin alerted him to something’s presence, and TJ rushed to strike the pukwudgie down. Maybe he could still be there in time, maybe this time he could be there to stop the end, or at least witness it. He didn’t pay attention to the two bodies in the hall, their deaths inconsequential. In the room at the end of the hall, where he’d stolen his clothing from, the noises quietened down. TJ hissed loudly, his jaw open wide and threatening.
Luckily, Stanton had been much wiser than TJ, and raised his hands in warning or welcome, the goblin body . “I knew those scales were yours.” He slumped down to the ground, his leather jacket sporting a couple thin holes. “Can you get something to clean me up?”
TJ dropped his transformation before striding forward and gently opening the older man’s leather jacket. Blood colored his blue plaid shirt, but it hadn’t soaked through with his lifeblood. They seemed to be mere flesh wounds.
“Shit. How many times did they get you?”
“Hell if I know. Hurts worse than I’ve hurt in a long time though, I can tell you that.” Somehow, the tough coot got more talkative when hurt. “Maybe seven or eight? My leg doesn’t hurt much any more. That’s not good. Might be going into shock. You gonna get me those bandages? Says I’m bleeding. No shit sherlock. I got stabbed.”
The urgency of the situation settled over TJ like the ringing of a bell. “Didn’t you level up? That would have healed you… whatever. You know where some are? Or do I need to cut sheets?”
“I did on the first one. The others got me. And bandages are upstairs. There’s a bathroom, behind the mirror is a medicine cabinet. Had a bunch of gauze and so on in there.”
TJ didn’t say anything as he nearly sprinted out of the room and to the stairs. Four pukwudgie bodies were scattered around the house, and he thought he could paint a pretty accurate picture of what had happened. They burst through the door, Stanton shot one, it went down there. No other bodies, so maybe he missed a shot and retreated back down the hall. They got him once or twice there, but he killed two more. The last one tried to end him in the room, but he got it first. TJ grabbed a double handful of gauze and tight wrappings and topped it with antibacterial ointment and hydrogen peroxide and ran back down the stairs, disregarding the few he dropped.
‘Alright, let’s get your shirt off.” TJ commanded as he strode back into the bedroom. With quick movements, he unbuttoned Stanton’s shirt to see the wounds while disregarding the old man’s rambling about hollow point ammunition. The most serious one was in his belly, just beside his navel. TJ sniffed at it, worried about his intestines or stomach being ruptured. He couldn’t smell anything except blood, but he also couldn't say if that would work anyways. The bleeding was more immediately pressing, though, and TJ poured capfuls of the peroxide into each wound before patting it dry and daubing it liberally with the ointment. It wasn’t long before each of the small wounds in Stanton’s torso were patched, and the man in question had moved on in his rambling topic to birdshot vs buckshot.
“We’re gonna need to get your pants off for the other ones.” To his credit, Stanton didn’t stop in his discussion of the merits and demerits of each gauge and type and so on and so forth about shotguns as he dropped trou. There were two shallow wounds in his quads, but nothing deep or near the massive arteries on the inner thigh. TJ ministered to the wounds, and then helped the unsteady man into a pair of the original inhabitant’s flannel pjs. Not wanting to leave the wounded man alone, TJ helped him to the couch in front of the still-burning fire, and settled him down.
Just in time for the sound of footsteps on the porch outside to fearlessly approach.