“Bow. Now.”
Mason stared down the over-sized wolf as it crept forward like a cat about to pounce. Haley pulled his weapon from storage, then started trying to climb the nearest tree.
“Bad idea,” Mason whispered to the animal, raising his bow and drawing it enough to create an arrow. “Live or die,” he said. “Time to decide.”
A twig snapped behind him. He shot and launched himself sideways, and another unnaturally aggressive wolf snapped its deadly jaws where he’d been. He dropped his bow and readied his blades, activating his gem’s Shield power as the creatures chased and clamped their jaws at nothing again and again. When they fell back in confusion, he dropped his Shield and leapt at the nearest, activating Predator’s Strike followed by a series of slashes that left the creature maimed and dying.
[Great Taiga Wolf killed. Experience awarded.]
Taiga? Mason didn’t have time to consider the meaning of that. The other came on, leaping with an arrow lodged in its chest, and Mason again dove aside, opening its flank with his sword. It whined and crawled away, and he readied to finish it before seeing at least three more wolves running through the brush.
“Mason! There’s more!” Haley shouted from the tree.
He sighed and again lifted his bow, then activated Aspect of the Cheetah. He sprinted the opposite way, dropping deadly traps in his wake. Finally he turned and aimed, waiting for the first creature to show itself. When it did, he launched a Crippling Strike, then followed with a barrage of arrows. One wolf struck a trap and yelped as it collapsed. Then another. Mason got a lucky shot and caught a third in the throat, then kept loosing at the fallen wolves.
[Killed three Great Taiga Wolves! Experience awarded. Level 11 reached!]
He stood panting, flexing his tired bow arm and rolling his shoulders. His string hand had gone from raw to mostly callus since this all began, his fingertips now like a man who’d played guitar since childhood. He grinned and pulled up his profile.
Mason Nimitz
Level: 11
Primary Class: Ranger
Secondary Class: Druid
Strength:9
Dexterity:14
Vitality:12
Intellect:6
Will:9
Presence:3
Luck: 4
Titles: Killer, Early Lead, Soloist, Crazy like a Fox, Burnt the Boats, Progenitor, Hit the Ground Running
Powers: Power Shot, Crippling Strike (upgraded), Regeneration, Predator’s Strike, *Nature Affinity, Ranger’s Claw, Endless Quiver, Trapmaking, Aspect of the Cheetah
[Please select your power enhancement in 60 minutes or one will be selected for you.]
Things had definitely changed since level nine, and his stats likely explained his vastly increasing physical abilities. It also seemed level 11 was another power enhancement, which suited Mason just fine. But now the incredibly difficult question—which power to upgrade? Regeneration was the obvious choice. Anything he could do to enhance not dying seemed a wise plan. But as usual he preferred offense to defense. Power Shot and Predator’s Strike would be nice to haves, but not critical. His eyes went back again and again to Endless Quiver. The power was already amazing. What might it do if he enhanced it? Unfortunately, there was no more tutorial to ask. But he couldn’t stop himself, the temptation was too great. He picked Endless Quiver.
[Endless Quiver enhanced: select from a larger choice of arrows, increasing with levels.]
Mason wasn’t exactly sure what other choices of arrows even were, but he’d find out soon enough. He smiled as he walked back to Haley’s tree with the enhanced senses of the kill. The air tasted sweet on his tongue, moving through his lungs with pleasurable ease. His muscles bled fire, blood coursing through his body. Good choice, bad choice, whatever the hell happened next—it was good to be alive.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
“You’re bleeding.
“Hmm?” Mason blinked and lifted his left arm, which he now felt vaguely throbbing and saw what must have been a claw wound snaking down from his elbow to his shoulder. He shrugged. “It’ll heal.”
Mostly out of curiosity, Mason knelt and checked the corpse of one of the wolves. It was similar to a larger breed you’d find in North America, which matched its name, though its jaw was maybe slightly larger. He realized its paws were strange—almost as if the toes were connected by a kind of tissue, which looked a little like…webbing. On a hunch, he checked behind the wolf’s ears, eyes raising as he found two flaps of rubbery skin, and a complex texture of flesh. He felt a smile spreading across his face.
“They have gills.”
“What?” Haley frowned. “What does that mean?”
Then she shrieked as Mason lifted her into a fireman carry and ran. He crested a tall rise, and the taste of the air almost instantly changed. Or maybe he just hadn’t noticed it. Then it was all downhill through waist high grass and a collection of unknown plants all fighting for the sun in the reduced canopy. He focused his ears on the distance, his eyes on the horizon. And soon he heard the faint sound of waves.
“Mason!” Haley called, bouncing over his shoulder and unable to see forward. “Are there more wolves?”
“Just hold on,” Mason grinned, giving her ass a good slap as he moved through a small dip, then out past the last few rows of trees until the green horizon vanished into an endless blue. At last he stepped out onto warm, white sand, then set Haley down.
“We made it!” she leapt into his arms, and because she was now so light and his strength obviously immense, he tried not to squeeze too hard. They ran down hand in hand to the edge of the water, and Mason scanned everything in sight, looking without much hope for the landmark of two islands with white cliffs. He didn’t see anything but sea. He knelt and dipped a finger in the water before tasting it, not surprised to come up with a salty tang.
He grinned at Haley, who came forward and ran a finger down his chest.
“I think I’ve mostly recovered. And I’ve made certain promises.”
“Yes you have.” Mason squeezed her ass so hard she squealed. “But I’ll collect tonight.”
He let her go and moved down the coast—scanning for tracks and sniffing the air like a bloodhound. It didn’t take long before he smelled something…off. It wasn’t dead fish, or the natural rot and renewal of the sea. It was something unnatural. Temporary. Something that didn’t belong.
He kept moving until he found a cluster of rocks with what looked like fabric stuck to their edges. He got closer, and the smell increased until even Haley covered her nose behind him.
“Disgusting. Do you smell that?”
He moved to the other side of the rocks, no longer confused about what he’d find. A pile of human bodies had been gathered up and dumped by the rocks, their clothes shredding apart, their flesh swelling and coming off. Carrion birds scattered at Mason’s approach, but the flies kept at their work.
“My God.” Haley stopped and covered her face, and Mason went to the pile to check one by one. He found obvious arrow wounds, burn marks, precision gashes. The bodies were water-swollen, half rotted and slightly eaten, but he could identify them clearly enough. His heart went back to beating when he finally knew none of them was Blake.
He stepped away and felt a wave of anxiety fall away, replaced by an impatient hurry and desperate need for the end, or for revenge, or for hope. God damnit, Blake, he thought, where are you?
“Best get my bow again,” he said, and Haley obeyed without question.
“What do you think happened to them?” she said, voice quiet and obviously disturbed.
“Players,” he said instantly. “Or else very intelligent monsters.”
They said nothing for a little while. But Haley broke the silence. “What do we do?”
“We find my brother.”
He looked down the coastline in both directions, not sure what to do. North or South? There was no way to know. He could see no tracks and even if he could they’d likely have nothing to do with Blake. Or, he realized with a scowl, if for some reason his brother had been here and lived, they could have taken him into the trees. But there wasn’t much else for it. He’d just have to guess, and go.
“I’m not very lucky,” he said, then turned to Haley. “But you found a murderous monster in the middle of some damn impossible dungeon. So, go ahead and guess. North, or South?”
Haley bit her lip, clearly taking the request seriously. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“North.”
Mason felt the urge to question her logic, to get some kind of explanation, but he fought it down and nodded. “North it is. Want to stretch those legs a bit? Run on the beach awhile?”
“Yes please.” She smiled gratefully. Mason kept his pace to a jog, battling the urge to sprint like a madman. Impatience wouldn’t save his brother, because impatience ultimately made you stupid and wrong. If anything could save Blake, it was cold, calculating, murderous, relentless pursuit. So that’s what Mason would do.
Then they ran in silence, side by side along the mystery sea.
“I was always…into cardio…” Haley panted and dropped to her hands and knees on the sand. “But this is…ridiculous.”
Mason scanned the horizon and the trees, then knelt at a small pile of stones arranged with obvious intent. His breathing was nearly perfectly normal.
“Looks like a native cairn,” he muttered, still eyeing the sea for landmarks.
“A what?” Haley squinted.
“A territory marker. These aren’t random. Someone, or something, put these here.”
The little pile of stones raised Mason’s hackles. If it belonged to monsters, it would mean some kind of intelligent tribe and probably make sense for the roboGod to program in. But if it belonged to players, it meant people who not only didn’t do everything they could to hide, as Mason would, but actively marked where they’d been. What the hell kind of reckless, aggressive people would that make them? The kind that murdered a dozen people and stacked them like they stacked stones, he imagined.
He closed his eyes, stretching out with his ever-enhancing hearing for as much detail as he could. At first he focused on the sound of his own heartbeat. Then Haley’s. Then the wind as it zipped along the waves, and whistled through the trees. But it wasn’t just the wind on the air. He heard a chaotic smattering of low sounds—too quick and random to be natural save to one creature that walked the earth. He could hear men’s voices.
Did he tell Haley? Or just do what he needed to do, and use her as a distraction? He decided she could handle it. That she was an asset that he could use. The thought brought a strange warmth to his chest.
“Don’t panic or look around. But we aren’t alone,” he said quietly, pretending still to inspect the stones. He let his gaze casually drift over everything and nothing, unable to spot whatever watched him from the forest. He took a deep breath and stood, meeting Haley’s eyes. “OK assistant, I need your assistance.”
She nodded, beautiful game face on, and he smiled.
“How do you feel about skinny dipping?”