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1.02: The Wild Climbers

Cold droplets of blood landed on Frank’s cheek as he swung himself away on a neighboring branch, his axe thoroughly embedded in the Wild Climber that had been sailing toward him. With his left hand firmly gripping a branch above him, he held on to the weapon’s handle, and the edge of the blade dislodged itself as the beast sailed past him, its momentum carrying it away then down.

His grip still tight, he rolled his shoulder and winced. The impact had rattled him, but he couldn’t let his focus slip. Not now.

The second Wild Climber was stepping up toward him. Its eyes had been wild only moments ago, jaw gnashing and snapping on empty air. Now though, its demeanor was different.

It had seen what had just happened to its predecessor, and that seemed to give it pause.

Frank could work with that. He adjusted his grip and footing, and took a deep breath while the beast in front of him was being told off–as he assumed–by the one supporting it. The anchored beast had its eyes unwaveringly trained on him, its drool dribbling out of the growling maw it had firmly shut around the tree trunk.

The new arrival was nervously trying to get a good foothold, occasionally looking behind itself. Soft growls and whines echoed from its wide neck while the older beast below it snarled. It even jerked itself up somehow from that angle, making the younger Wild Climber go quiet for a second.

Frank held his axe back, ready to swing, and stole a quick glance at the [Magic Missile] card. He had noticed that a new notification had arrived, but he couldn’t spare the time to look through it yet. With his precarious footing and lack of space, every movement counted.

With his left arm, he tightened his grip on a branch overhead and kept his eyes on the shaking Wild Climber who didn’t seem to want to be here anymore. And as the beast yowled and whined, Frank went on the initiative.

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The young Wild Climber was not having a good day.

At first, she thought this was going to be an easy chase and an easy meal. The tall things weren’t hard to kill. Especially not to a big pack like theirs.

But this tall thing climbed as well as they did. Worse, it could actually fight while climbing.

She wanted to go back down. But the elder it was standing on was telling it to jump on the tall thing and kill it.

It didn’t want to. The other young one had jumped and was immediately killed. Now it was probably somewhere on the ground, bleeding out. It would have survived the fall, if it wasn’t for the sharp stick the tall thing had used.

The tall things could be crafty that way. They always fought hard before they were brought down. Not the young ones, though. But those were too easy to hunt.

A good hunt made the meal tastier… but she was now learning that maybe sometimes the hunt was too difficult? She glanced back down toward the ground and whined. Should she ignore the elder and just leave?

Another growl shook her out of her train of thought. The elder’s growls were promising punishment once they were down from the tree. The Wild Climber whimpered and surrendered to the will of the elder. She shifted her weight on her back paws as she prepared to jump, looked up, and—

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The [Force Missile] hit the beast square on its temple.

The projectile packed a lot more power than Frank had expected. It cracked with a resounding impact against the beast’s skull, snapping the beast’s head backward forcefully enough that its whole body recoiled. It howled as it crouched low, writhing and shaking its head from the pain.

Frank breathed out in relief. When he had initially seen the hazy globe of blue-ish light, his heart had dropped. The luminescent ball of light just didn’t seem to be that heavy, nor dense and he didn’t see how it would do any damage. But then, in the blink of an eye, the missile shot toward the beast, trailing light and crossing the distance to the distracted Wild Climber almost instantly and he literally flinched when he hit his mark.

I guess I should press my advantage.

Before the beast could recover from the impact, another missile of blue-white light flew toward it, hitting its chest with a loud thud, quickly followed by a third that completely whiffed.

Frank exhaled, then took a second to aim. The spell was pulling something out of him with every missile that materialized, and he felt it in his bones that he had three or four more of these missiles in him, but after that, he should stop.

The instinct felt both foreign and intimate. He had lived a whole life without it, but it felt as familiar as hunger or exhaustion.

Focus.

He narrowed his attention on the exact spot he wanted to hit, then pulled the trigger by sending the mental command to the card. He felt the odd new energy drain out of him, leaving an uncomfortable feeling of emptiness inside of chest, while a fourth ball of light coalesced in front of him for a moment before it sped toward the Wild Climber.

From the mental trigger to impact, barely half a second went by.

The older Wild Climber growled and shook in alarm, trying to get the one riding upon its neck to notice the incoming danger, but the younger beast was too confused and jittery from the previous shots. The oncoming projectile cracked it over its ear and Frank winced. It reeled and yowled in pain, and reflexively tried to scamper away. Its paw landed on empty air, and the beast’s eyes widened as it tumbled over and fell.

Frank kept his eyes on the furry staircase, watching for the next beast that would step up when a loud crack resounded under them, and the whole tree quivered, followed by a quieter thud.

The beast has probably just snapped its spine hitting a branch on the way down.

After a few seconds, when no new beasts came up, Frank slid the axe’s handle under his belt and kept his mental finger on the card, ready to shoot another missile if needed. He didn’t know how many more of those he had in him, but it didn’t seem like he'd have much of a choice until he was out of danger. Hopefully the side effects of running out of whatever fueled the spells wouldn’t be too penalizing.

He climbed down a couple of steps, each one accompanied by louder and sharper snarling from the Climber still nailed to the tree.

Even though he knew the predator was a sitting duck, the growling still made his skin break out in goosebumps. Frank had never really gotten this close to a wild carnivore before, and no mental exercise could fully silence the warning bells his instincts were throwing at him. But if he wanted to survive, he couldn’t just wait for the beasts to wear him down.

The man looked past the first Wild Climber, at the dozen or so beasts under it, and decided it was now or never. In fact, the one in front of him seemed to already be working on detaching itself and if these beasts got back to the ground, he wasn’t getting out of the forest. Not today at least. And he was definitely not equipped to camp on top of a tree.

Frank got his weapon out of his belt, secured his footing as he ignored the growls and throaty barks of the beast, then raised the axe high before swinging down. Blood splattered out on impact, quickly pooling around the blade while the Wild Climber whined and its feet flailed. Frank pulled the axe out, and he knew he got at least a couple of arteries when blood spurted from two different locations out of the deep gash left by the blade.

The beast continued to bleed out, and Frank watched as the flow slowed within seconds. The flailing slowed, and the whines got less and less frequent and in less than thirty seconds, the eyes rolled up, while the jaw was still tightened around the trunk.

What an odd anatomy.

Frank memorized the location he had hit, secured the axe again to his belt, and when he saw the state of his sleeves and pants, he resigned himself to looking like a butcher by the time he would be done.

But better that than being dead. Again.

He shuddered and pushed away the existential questions. Now was not the time to dwell on all that.

He stepped away and down to get to the next beast. Without wasting too much time, he stabilized himself, gripped a branch for support with his left hand, then swung. This time, after considering his angles, he went for the back of the neck. He was slightly above it, so he mostly let gravity do the work for him.

Unfortunately, the axe barely got past the hide when it bounced off. The Wild Climber yelped, and Frank winced. They were trying to get him, sure, but he also didn’t want to torture the things. He readjusted his stance, and this time went for the same spot he used with the last beast, along the neck, a dozen inches below the jaw.

He got it right this time.

While he waited for this one to pass out, he decided to take a look at the cards he had gotten earlier. There had been something about potions, if he remembered right.

He still felt somewhat the odd hollowness from using the spells. It felt as if it had gotten better, but that might just be his imagination. And in case it didn’t, well, better be prepared. He willed the Deck of Fates to open up, and it did. He ignored the Hand option, and mentally tapped Cards. A box popped up in his view, and it contained three cards.

Frank took another glance down before he studied the cards. There was a reddish potion, a mana potion, and card with a small purse drawn on it. And all three had a dark gray background, outside of the illustration of the item itself. He focused on the purple-ish blue potion card.

[ Mana Potion ]

Rarity: Common

Type: Consumable

Description: A low grade potion to restore a small amount of mana.

Was that what it was called? Mana?

Mentally clicking it resulted in a new window.

Use | Sell | Discard

Should he use it right now? Maybe it would be better to save it for when he was really low on mana. And what if that wasn’t the cause of the feeling? Things might become too hectic for him to be using the interface.

Though it felt somewhat wasteful, he clicked Use. Better safe than sorry.

The card dissolved into motes of light, and the air rippled before a bottle–identical to the image that had been on the card–took its place.

It was a small vial, and almost as small as an average pill packer. He twisted the cork out and sniffed the purple-ish liquid, then decided to down half of it.

Frank grimaced, feeling the drought go down and tingle its way down to his stomach. It was bitter and tasted like liquified static, but within seconds, he could feel the odd emptiness in his chest recede.

That settles that, then.

He stored the half-full vial in his pocket then glanced up at the notifications. Maybe he should open them right now? They might have more cards. But glancing down, decided that he had already wasted too much time with the potion. Next break I’ll look through those.

Frank took a deep breath, then started working his way down. As he did, the two beasts he had killed first finally lost their grip, one after the other, and tumbled down to the ground, prompting him to pay attention to his positioning. If one of the things fell on him on its way down, that would be that for him.

He hoped he could find a settlement quickly, once he was done with all this. That road must lead somewhere, right? He just… really hoped it was close by.

Who knew what else lived in this forest.

Frank had tried to see through the surrounding canopy but he couldn’t see where the trees would end. He wasn’t high enough.

But maybe if–

A faraway roar resounded in the forest. It echoed, filling the stilled forest with its presence. Frank shivered, eyes wide as his thoughts ground to a halt.

The call lasted for a full five seconds, and when the shock receded, Frank swallowed.

Did they have to put me in a forest? Really?

Looking back toward his grimy task, he realized he hadn’t been the only one that has had a reaction to the roar.

The beasts were jerking their necks around, growling and making odd throaty calls to each other and Frank's heart rate picked up. He assumed they were now detaching themselves in earnest.

He couldn’t have that. Not if he wanted to leave this forest anytime soon. And he’d better hurry, before whatever that had been decided to take a stroll in these surroundings.

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The last Wild Climber fell a short distance to the ground on its side, its death throes rustling the dried leaves around its twitching body. Frank waited for it to fully stop moving before looking around at the listless beasts littering the forest floor all around him.

All in all, around nine Wild Climbers lay dead. There used to be a few more when that roar had filled the air, but in the end, they had dislodged themselves faster than he could deal with them, and the only reason Frank was considering getting down from his tree was because they all had sprinted north as soon as their paws had touched the ground. None of them even spared him a glance.

They couldn’t be that smart… right? They wouldn’t be faking it to give him a false sense of security before ambushing him again?

He wondered what that roar had been. Was that some sort of leader of theirs? Or was it something higher on the food chain? Still. It was odd how they completely lost interest in him after that roar.

It made him wary. So he waited for a bit.

When it seemed like there was no other Wild Climber around and no rustling or growling reached his ears in a few minutes, he jumped down, his feet hitting the forest ground with a crunch.

The crunch of leaves and broken branches, and not his bones.

Frank was still struggling with the very vivid memories of his frailty over the last couple of decades. A jump like this would have absolutely shattered 90% of his legs.

He took a deep breath, inhaling and basking in the smells of drying leaves and other scents one would encounter in a forest. It didn’t smell like antiseptic nor detergents. It didn’t smell like bland food, and unwashed ears. Even though whiffs of blood and wet dog reached him from the downed beasts all around, it didn’t take away from his enjoyment.

He glanced at the notification then swore under his breath.

“Should have looked at these while I was waiting up there.”

He glanced up, then around. Then nodded to himself. Just keep an ear out. I’ll just get back up if anything shows up. Then he opened the first message .

class acquired.

achieved.

1x Card Selection awarded.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Note: This being the first class level gained, be aware that class level assimilation will occur whenever a deep enough meditative state is achieved, or whenever slumber is imminent.

A second message had a similar text within.

class acquired.

achieved.

achieved.

1x Card Selection awarded.

Frank mouthed the words as his brows progressively scrunched up together. He looked up, then around, then decided to drag himself back up a few branches before he looked at the messages again.

Now… What's all this?

He looked through the two class messages again. Level assimilation? What did that mean? He looked around his surroundings. Should he try to meditate?

He shook his head. He’ll get back to that in a moment. For now, he checked the other two notifications. The card selections he had been awarded. He tapped the first one and a new menu popped up that had two cards displayed one next to the other, with a text overlaid on each one.

Pick one from the following two rewards:

[Grasping Grass]

Rarity: Common

Type: Spell

Effect: Grows blades of grass that ensnare a target’s lower limb.

Or

[Scroll of Fear]

Rarity: Rare

Type: Consumable

Effect: A spell scroll capable of casting the spell Fear once. A five-meter cone facing the caster will be plunged in a state of abject terror. The length of the effect will depend on the targets’ resilience to the spell.

One thing’s for sure. He would not delay opening the notifications anymore.

Having this many new concepts thrown at him would have had him frantically scribbling down notes and underlining questions in a past life, but for once, he decided to not overthink or dwell on what was happening. Instead, he just considered the choice he had to make.

He focused on the type of the scroll card. Consumable. Like the potion. That means I’d be able to use it only once. Probably. [Grasping Grass] is a permanent spell. Like [Force Missile].

He hummed. The card looked different from the ones he had seen so far. The background was dark gray, same as the potion, but this one had a silver border all around the illustration of the rolled up scroll. Even though the scroll was marked as rare, and though the spell would have a significant impact when used, Frank would prefer something more reliable. Something he could use more than once. And he did not know if this fear effect would last for a second or a minute. Which made the choice easy.

[Grasping Grass] has been added to the Deck of Fates.

Frank decided to not waste time and checked the second selection message, which turned out to be a selection between [Floating Shield]–a rare Armament-type card that summoned a round shield that would float around him and that he could move with a thought–or he could select another rare card that also seemed to have the silvery border, confirming that the rarity was visually indicated by the frame decoration.

The second option was a [Barkskin potion] that would grant his body a high resilience. How high… Frank couldn’t tell. But it came around the same issue as the last selection. Right now, he strongly preferred cards he could use more than once.

[Floating Shield] has been added to the Deck of Fates.

Remembering the uncomfortable feeling when he had added the second card to his Hand, Frank navigated to the Deck of Fates menu, and after he thought about it for a moment, he added [Grasping Grass]. His goal was to get out of this forest. Not to fight a long battle that would require a shield. He would add both… but just in case there happened to be a limit, he’d rather have the tripping spell thingy instead of the shield.

After confirming the addition, the bracelet warmed up again, before a wave of energy flowed up toward his chest. Frank inhaled and braced, feeling something stretching inside of him. He put a hand on his chest, leaning forward. A groan escaped his lips, and his breath quickened. Was this normal? The pressure slowly ramped up from uncomfortable to painful… and then it stopped, then receded as quickly as it came.

[Grasping Grass] has been added to your Hand. No more slots are available in your Hand. 3 cards remain in the Deck of Fates.

Frank rubbed at his chest, wincing from the odd pressure that still lingered. He inhaled deeply, expecting some discomfort, but there was none.

He was glad he had considered the order of cards before adding them to his Hand. If he had put the shield in first, he might have had to take it out and go through the process all over again.

I hope this is something that gets better with time, he thought as he climbed back down. He froze midway through, remembering the bit about meditation and sleep. He considered the corpses around him and shook his head.

This was not a place to relax and close his eyes and whatever the assimilation of levels was, it’ll have to wait until he reached a city.

He saw the road then took a few steps toward it. Nothing moved beside the branches that swayed high above. Nothing could be heard other than the chirping birds and the rustling branches.

His steps grew more decisive, although still careful of dry branches. No need to alert anything nearby to his presence. After around a minute of careful movement with nothing pouncing on him, he made it back up on the road, and started jogging.

Fresh air rushed into his lungs as he picked up speed. He glanced behind him a few times, but even through all his caution and worry, he couldn’t hold back the smile that only grew wider as he felt his soles hit the ground, as he felt the wind ruffle his hair.

Frank marveled at his new mobility. How long has it been since he could do anything but shuffle with his walker? How long has it been since he was able to run? To jump? He grinned to himself, the trees rushing all around him as he jogged across the dirt road and it was only close to ten minutes later that he finally slowed down.

He wiped the sweat that threatened to drip down his brows, taking deep breaths as he continued to walk. In the distance, he saw the road come up to a small incline that seemed to obscure the path forward, and he prayed he would see something other than trees by the time he got up there.

His three cards floated near the bottom of his vision, mostly invisible until he thought of them. Now they floated higher and larger, ready to be used–well, two of them. The [Hand Axe] seemed unresponsive and he knew instinctively that he couldn’t trigger it. But that made sense, as the axe was still firmly in his hand, the metal cold against his thumb. He had to grip it near the head, otherwise it felt too awkward and he didn’t want to dismiss the weapon–another feature he clearly felt from the card.

He considered the cards he had in his Hand. Then the ones he had in the Deck of Fates, and the ones he had decided not to choose.

There must be so many different cards out there. What was their limit? What were the other types?

His thought unfortunately ground to a halt when he heard the rustle to his right.

It all happened too fast.

Frank turned toward the noise, his eyes taking in the scene. He saw a shape moving fast. Toward him.

By the time he realized what he was looking at and willed his legs to move, the large shadow was already on him. He was almost out of the way, but the beast was able to make a last second adjustment, then it body-checked him.

A wall of muscle and fur slammed into him, and the world flipped upside down in a nauseating cacophony of pain and force.

Frank was flung away like a rag-doll. He must have rolled on the ground at least a couple of times before his momentum was spent. When he got a grasp on where he was and what was happening, only one thought moved to the foreground.

Get up. GET UP.

Frank scrambled to his feet, feeling the entire world tilting and swaying as he screamed as loud as he could, hoping the noise might shock or distract whatever attacked him long enough so he could make sense of what’s happening.

He raised the axe that miraculously was still in hands as he frantically looked around. The taste of blood filled his mouth and for a moment, he almost fell back to his knees. His vision was still swimming. He felt nauseous. But thankfully, as he shifted his weight and turned around searching for the beast, he felt confident that he broke nothing.

A growl came from his left and Frank upped his voice… but it faltered, as if something just grabbed him by the throat and squeezed.

He finally saw what he was dealing with.

It was another one of the Wild Climbers. One that was significantly larger. If the other specimens got up to his stomach or chest in height, this one’s face was at eye level with him.

It snarled at him, occasionally flinching at his voice as it bobbed back and forth, taking a step toward him, then backtracking. Its ears tilting forward then flattening back down.

His heart hammered against his ribcage. He screamed and raised his hands, trying to make himself bigger as he inched himself away from the beast.

Not good. This is really not good.

He couldn’t even get himself to look away. And he had to. To find another tree to climb… or something. Anything.

And because a bad situation could always get worse, his heart dropped when he heard the crunch of leaves come from behind him, quickly followed by more growls.

His throat closed up. He had already stopped screaming as he was getting out of breath. He glanced behind him and two new Wild Climbers were prowling toward him.

He kept his eyes on both groups, the axe too short and too awkward in his hands, and he wondered… if this was it.

The realization was like a splash of cold water.

He had just gotten this new chance, and it was about to be taken away.

And that realization was followed by another that made him feel worse. What if he wasn’t the only one given his chance?

What if his family was here? What if she was here?

Frank desperately looked for another tree he could climb. But would he even reach it before they caught him?

They were getting closer. He was going to die. He would need a miracle or–

A louder growl.

The large Wild Climber was not looking at him. It bared its teeth toward the two smaller beasts and Frank’s breath caught when they grew quiet. Frank continued moving away slowly, putting as much distance as he could between any of the beast. The leader was looking at the newcomers while keeping tabs on him. It barked a few times, and growled again. The smaller beast whined for a couple of seconds before the leader snapped back with a louder bark.

Frank wondered if he should try and climb the closest tree while they were distracted, but he couldn’t see any lower branch to grab on to. Then, to his surprise–and meagerly renewed hope–the two small ones whined one last time, before turning away and lopping off.

Then the spark of hope was snuffed out when he saw the large beast turn back toward him, hackles raised. Still, it was an improvement. His chances of survival went up from barely 0.1% to a whopping 2%.

He almost smiled at his own thoughts. But no, his odds had just improved drastically, although they were still grim. While surrounded, he would have died. He had no doubt about that. Still…

Pack animals did not usually behave this way. Frank assumed they’d want to nip at him and wear him down until one of them would finish him off. Which considering their sizes, shouldn’t have taken long at all. But again, they behaved in a completely different fashion that he expected.

Focus.

Frank considered his options. [Force Missile] in the face was one. [Grasping Grass] was a second. The description had mentioned that it would entangle a limb of an enemy. Maybe he could try that then run?

No… it could easily outrun me. And I have no idea how long the spell effect would last.

He’d have to figure out a way to disable the beast. Or quickly find another tree to climb and wait it out.

Frank wished he could have some more time to think, but now that the beast had nobody distracting it from its meal, it bared its long fangs at him again. And to make matters worse, the Wild Climber caught on that he was all bark and no bite, and was inching closer, its ears flat. Its large dark eyes trained on him.

From this close, he could see the many scars that covered its neck and face. Dark scar tissue showed where the yellow and black fur wasn’t growing back so well.

The predator went still.

Frank’s heartbeats roared in his ears.

He tensed up and time stood still. The beast was about to jump.

He needed to wait for it. If he jumped first, it would be easy for it to catch him.

He had a fraction of a second to react. A false start might cost him his life. A situation Frank hadn’t found himself in in decades.

He breathed out slowly, shifting his weight to his left leg. Then feinted to the right.

The hyena-like beast took the bait. It lunged right, and as soon as its paws left the ground, Frank sprinted left. He ran, as fast as his newfound youth allowed him and looking behind, he saw the Wild Climber skidding on the dry leaves, before it surged toward him.

Hundreds of pounds of fur and muscles rushed at him, and Frank waited until the beast got close before he dodged to the side. At the same time, he swung his axe low, but the movement was awkward, and the axe ended up impacting the beast’s shoulder at an angle, bouncing off harmlessly from its hide.

He cursed and scrambled away, the predator’s sharp teeth barely missing his thigh. The Wild Climber was faster than him, and it didn’t have an awkward axe weighing it down.

The wall of fur flashed past him in a moment, but before the beast was fully past him, it started to turn and it nudged him.

And that felt like he just got clipped by a moving wall.

Frank hit the ground hard, the smell of dry leaves and wet earth filled his nose.

The Wild Climber saw him fall and instead of capitalizing on it, it lunged toward him, aiming at his hand. Before he could react, its jaw clicked shut over the axe then wrenched it away, and Frank could do nothing but release it or the force would snap his wrist like a twig.

His axe firmly in its jaw, the beast pranced away.

Frank’s mind stalled. He watched the beast bounce up and down further away as he scrambled up. It stopped, twisted its neck to the left before it launched the axe a good distance further toward the road. Far enough that there was no way he could run to get it back without giving the predator enough time to take him down five times over.

It turned back toward Frank, squealing and bounding from side to side, like a gigantic, playful puppy that slowly got more and more murderous as it got closer. The playfulness turned into growling that made his insides vibrate. Frank swallowed. Or tried to. But his mouth was dry.

This thing was smart. It was enjoying this. Its shoulders wiggled as it adjusted its footing, readying to pounce as it got closer. Frank glanced at its back paw.

Here goes nothing.

He focused on the [Grasping Grass] card and triggered it as he carefully stepped away from the lumbering beast. By now it was so close he could smell it. The pungent smell of wet, unwashed dogs and the revolting breath of a scavenging predator.

He felt the spell connect to the target just as the beast lunged. The mana rushed out of him at the same time as he threw himself back, but something hard tripped him and he tumbled.

Thankfully, he was far away enough that he could hear the beast’s jaw snapping with a click on nothing but air.

Unfortunately, as he tried to soften his fall with his hand, something partially blocked his hand’s movement. He still landed anyway. On his left arm. And something gave.

His lungs seized as he cried out. His vision white for a moment from the blinding pain that shot up his arm. He whirled back, dazed and barely coherent from the pain, but he had to get up. He struggled up to his feet just in time to see the Wild Climber pounce again.

He was about to trigger [Force Missile], hoping to hit it in the face and distract it for a moment, when he saw the beast jerk backward, like a dog on a short leash.

He staggered away, the pain from his arm still drowning everything else, but he forced himself to take stock of the situation.

The beast tried to move a couple of times before it gave its full attention to what was going on under it. Frank stepped sideways, and finally saw it. The Wild Climber was pawing and chewing at green, long blades of grass that had twined themselves around its back paw, like some sort of green cast that completely immobilized the lower part of its leg.

Frank focused on its front paw, and cast [Grasping Grass] again.

The output surprised him, even through the blinding pain shooting up his arm. At least twice–if not thrice–as much mana as every individual [Force Missile] he had used today. He felt the mana leave him again, and the emptiness clawed at his heart.

His vision dimmed.

Panting, he watched the blades of grass shoot up around the Wild Climber’s front paw and grow all around it until the plant was as high as the beast’s shoulder. Then the leaves snapped around the limb, twisting and pulling down until the blades of grass looked as tight as they were on the beast’s back paw. The spell barely took a second.

Frank glanced toward where his axe had been thrown. If he tried to make it to civilization, the spell might fail and this thing will absolutely chase. It had been toying with him, and there was no way something this smart would let him go.

So he ran. Toward his axe.

The pain in his left arm was debilitating, but it felt like background noise.

Was he into shock?

He picked up the axe with his right hand, quickly closed the distance to the beast as it pawed against its restraints. It growled when he got close, but Frank didn’t slow. He raised the axe, then swung down.

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Frank breathed hard, his chest heaving with the effort of swinging the axe so many times. His right arm felt numb from the repeated impacts, while the left one pulsed with pain. He furtively peered around, and was glad to notice that the other Wild Climbers hadn’t come back. Then he looked back down.

It had finally stopped twitching.

He took a deep breath and turned to leave, but something made him stop mid-step.

Out of the massive body of the Wild Climber, a thin, vapor-like light floated up. It was brown. Or maybe some dark tint of orange. The vapor hung in the air for a moment before it coalesced into copper-hued threads that twirled and rippled.

Frank stepped away, eyes wide. He tensed up, readied a [Force Missile] and waited. If those things were some sort of magical parasite, he wanted none of it.

A moment later the threads faded away into motes.

Frank stared into the empty air for a few seconds, waiting for something else to happen, but nothing did. He slowly straightened back up then turned to leave as he shook his head. He had so many questions. Too many. But there will be no answers here and he couldn’t stay any longer. He couldn’t risk another encounter with wild beasts.

Once back on the road, he decided to maintain a brisk walk instead of a blind run. Quietly. And carefully. He kept looking for danger and for climbable trees. He kept track of those, that way he could get to safety quickly. But now that he had been walking for a while and that the rush from the encounter had run out, he found himself gritting his teeth and slowing down.

He looked down to his left side, down to the arm that was sending waves of pain with every step that he took. It was swollen. Bright red. And he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

He glanced back again for the hundredth time, and there was thankfully nothing chasing him. Ahead, approximately a couple of minutes away, he could see the tree-line.

He hoped he would see a village or something where he could recover and make sense of what was happening beyond it.

Please. No more forests.

Through the pain, he saw that there were more notifications. I’ll get around to those in a moment. He slowed as he hovered his gaze over the different elements of his interface. Hope this works.

“Messages…Hand… ,” he mumbled to himself. “Ah. There it is.”

He willed the Cards menu to open up, and it did. A box popped up in his view, and it contained three cards. The shield that he hadn’t put in his Hand, a consumable with a small purse drawn, and the card he wanted to see.

[ Healing Potion ]

Rarity: Common

Type: Consumable

Description: A low grade potion to heal minor injuries over a short amount of time.

Use | Sell | Discard

He clicked Use.

The card dissolved into motes of light, and the air rippled before a red vial took its place, similarly to what had happened with the mana potion.

Frank plucked it out of the air, then cursed and swore as he struggled to uncork the damn thing with his sore right hand, and after almost a full minute, he finally managed to push the stopper out of the way.

It smelled rancid. He drank it anyway.

It was cold at first, then the liquid seemed to heat up as it went down. His eyes widened as that same heat decided to stop then turn left, flowing through his chest and down his arm.

Instantly he started feeling his whole arm burning up. He tensed up, his tendons and muscles rippling under his skin. A grunt escaped his lips when he felt the fractured bones near his wrist shifted and set.

“God…damn…it,” he wheezed and gently let his arm down as the worse seemed to have passed. It was still pulsing painfully, but he could already move his wrist and fingers, although it was still kind of painful. But nothing like it had been only minutes ago.

He checked his surroundings again, making sure nothing was creeping on him, then started walking toward the tree-line, careful not to sway his healing arm too much.

Once he was past the trees, he took in the view, and a wave of relief washed over him.

A city. Finally.