The Hunt Begins
XP bonus to the One who dropped the Leaf from the Shuepaya Tree.
Tim Leifman is your new surname.
You gained a level! Now Level 10 Ranger.
Congratulations! You are now Tier 3. Non-gifted Tier 3 items are now equipable, up to Tier 4 for gifted or discovered items. Tier 3 ability evolutions are also available.
You have 5 free attribute points and one roll each for your HP and MP.
You have gained a class!
Upon reaching level 10 as a ranger, and based on collections of exercised power highlighted by your cultivation channels, we grant you the new class of Aura Mage. Your guide can teach you how to manage dual class abilities and progression paths.
On top of the notification blowing his mind was the network of synchronized charge points coming to life down his right arm into his hand. There were more messages—
“Tim, what happened?” Chris looked like he’d seen a ghost, and it was Tim. “You started to fade. Then your skin.”
Tim checked again as though to confirm his brother's fear. His skin looked, at worst, mottled with minor burn marks. Small ponds of pink skin blotched up his forearm. But no blood or… ooze. He’d felt terrible burning, but this looked like it would heal completely.
He might save his opinion on how good this was until he tried out whatever it was doing to him. For now, at least the pain was fading. So, what if I fade too? He asked Dryfu.
I’m researching…
“Can we get out of this hole?” Chris asked. “Jogey is tired of watching our backs.”
He stroked his klandrog’s tired head, and the cub let his arms hang weakly at his side. An eerie whistle escaped the back of its throat. Jogey’s eyelids closed over a thin light glowing underneath. Aura essence as of a good friend at rest eased Tim’s concerns about the alien sound.
Tim thought Smokey was a much better name, but—
“Not yet.” Melody’s forehead tensed with concentration. A blue mist emanated from her skin with brilliant, high-definition details. Tim’s prior sense for aura upgraded into a crystal-clear picture.
Melody smiled at his appreciation for her power. She ran her thumb over her fingertips in cycles from pinky to foremost, producing new flecks of steel blue aura. It flaked off and floated away as though she were its spring and the well was deep. It was beautiful.
“We have to prune some of the roots you’ve enchanted with the skull eruption. When we get to a safe place, I’ll show you how to advance your woodworking skill and craft from what we harvest,” she told Chris. “I know it’s dangerous,” she shared with Tim, showing sympathy for what he must have presented about leaving his brother in this hole. “Go use your new abilities to buy us time. I don’t know if they know the treasure you just created. They could come simply for revenge. Or they could flee for reinforcements. I’ll stay here with him.”
Tim pulled up his AP to spend his points quickly. He snapped twice to roll as he studied the list:
Str 8, Dex 14, Con 7 (-1 racial), Wis 15 (+1 second to c-mana), Int 9 (+2 racial), Char 3
He decided to split it: 2 > Strength =10 and 2 > Constitution = (9 - 1 racial) and 1 to Charisma (4)
The feeling of power, easing of tightness in his muscles and a bit of confidence flowed through him. Not a ton, but he did feel better about that next wink he planned to throw Jil’s way.
For whatever good that’ll do you.
Apprece’ the support.
His die gave him a 5 and a 4.
New MAX HP: 96
New MAX MP: 60
Jil appeared over the ledge. “Throw me your rope.”
Tim smiled to himself, thinking now wasn’t the best time to try that wink and drew his hand through his rope.
Jil didn’t get the joke. Her gaze leveled at his hand.
He passed back through the rope again, not realizing what had happened the first time until he saw: his skin was transparent as smoked glass. That’s… not good. “Guys?”
“Be careful,” Melody said. She had a blue aura snake wrapped around her wrist and inching closer. “This will strengthen your aura to help you recover. But it’s—”
The snake bit his forearm. Instant fire flushed in with its venom.
“Gonna hurt. Sorry.”
Tim tried to grip where the snake had bit, but his hand went through as though his arm were only in his mind.
“Also, I’m sorry, but I can’t reverse the fade. My snake introduced a spell to halt the fade from worsening, but I don’t have the ingredients to fix it. I know where we can get some,” she offered with a hint of hope in her gaze.
“Agh!” Jil shouted and disappeared beyond the ledge.
Tim grabbed his rope with his off hand, whipped it free of its tie, and snapped it at a branch. The whip circled the tree and tied tight. “Get my pouch while you’re at it.” Tim wrapped a length of the whip around his wrist to secure his hold and started the climb. “I want to meet this artisan.”
Something caught Jil. Tim climbed to the top. She Jil was on the ground swatting and growling at blobs attached to her body. “Stay back!” Jil’s hand shook as she drove her knife toward a black pulsating blob stuck to her stomach. It looked like an octopus’s head without the tendrils. Blood oozed through her shirt where the creature dribbled. The rest appeared in its secondary bulb with a deep red-purple inkwell. Veins breathed into sight with each new gulp, bulging along its sac’s outer membrane. Its aura generation puffed out like smoke rings as its body produced the poison entering Jil.
Tim cast Sister’s Keeper. Yellow-green waves shimmered a brief flash at the source of the urchin’s blood draw and made the creature flinch. Tim broke for his chance before the stun wore off. He lunged and stabbed at the urchin. A tendril appeared from a fold between its head and body. It caught Tim’s wrist before he reached it with his blade. Tendrils wrapped over Tim’s whip straps and into his skin, pulling itself onto his arm. A burning pain shot into his nerves, forcing him to drop his dagger.
Jil rolled to her side and kicked the urchin. Its tendrils held on to Tim. He wagged his arm to try and dislodge it. Another tendril flipped out of its fold and smacked a new river of fire into his triceps. He growled through the attack and body slammed the creature under him. Nausea curled in his guts as poison worked its wicked way through him. He had his axe in his belt, but no hands to get it. His dagger was out of reach, waiting half-hidden in the grass.
Dryfu wing whacked the tendrils, hopping from one to the other to deliver Tyson sized power blows, but now four were exposed and fanning for a place to purchase. One clipped Dryfu mid-air, another caught him. The tendril squeezed until the friendly stykiller cracked in an ugly, anger-inducing and merciless way, then hurled his listless form at a tree.
Dryfu!
Tim strained to reach a solution or direction to evolve his aura. His HP and MP couldn’t deplete any faster from the draining, fire-cycling pain the urchin sent through his trembling body.
Jil couldn’t help either. Two more of these creatures had her on her other side and her leg. She shivered on the ground in a gasping, grunting struggle. Her face grew pale and tight breaths pumped her chest.
His left hand clenched uncontrollably as he reached for the axe, enduring the rising tower of agony to match his progress. Every centimeter forward proved he could gain another. Meanwhile, he channeled his Aura Mage instincts and risked depleting his remaining MP on cultivation mana pulsed through his Protection, Poison Resistance and Healing abilities. These slowly cooled his arteries and killed off the poison.
Once his arms regained the strength, he cast Draw and sucked the remaining poison from the tendrils. His MP sank to 6, but the loss of poison allowed him to turn the urchin and pin it under his elbow. He grabbed his axe and jammed it into the center mass.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
The urchin’s body flexed. Spasms wracked it until its tendrils retracted and Tim could roll free. Fever drew sweat from his forehead and his strength reserves near to flatlining. He forced one more roll, then his breakfast purged itself into the grass.
Slowly, he crawled to his dagger. Sweat chilled rivers of shivering across his head and down his back.
Horse hoofs pounded nearby. Tim’s Danger Sense returned without threat. Thank God.
Dryfu lay crumpled on a frond with pink and green slashes down the siding. Tim gained enough MP from his Draw to cast Healing and Poison Resistance on his bud.
Jil grunted and sliced her knife through a tendril near her face. The others had her wrists locked and stabbed red sores into her skin through burn holes in her gear.
She couldn’t wait for Saylards’ galloping in on his ragged horseback, stuck in the muck of cracking tree limbs and pokey bushes. Jogey was busy wrestling an urchin, whining and pawing weakly at the suffocating tendrils.
Tim directed the last bit of his c-mana into Aura Blades and transposed an aura axe. Its semi-transparent, fluid form was light as a bar of soap, and ready to go, he hoped. He lined a shot through the crowded limb space and threw the hammer down. End flew over end on a flight path by Tim’s mind almost as much as his throwing form. The acceleration also built up until it planted in the urchin’s head with a wet smack. His Silent Kill skill wound that blade right into place.
The creature’s fight faded and Jil’s blade punctured between its eyes.
Jogey swung its urchin in both claws to smash it into a newly born branch. Sharp wood jutted through the membrane and impaled it to hang beside the aged tree.
Sea Urchins defeated.
You gained a level! Now Level 2 Aura Mage.
Tim let Dryfu have that one off. They could celebrate later when the poor guy could control the tremors more.
After his kill, Tim’s XP filled into Draw, Protection, Danger Sense, Small Blades/Aura Blades, Healing, Recovery, Poison Resistance, Sister’s Keeper, Magic Hunt and his Ranger class, with none peeking into a new level. His cultivation use stole too much. Healing and recovery continued to inch closer to theirs and might break ground by the time he was fully well.
Tim tossed his die, rolling a 7 and a 3.
New MAX HP: 103
New MAX MP: 63
He spent his 5 AP on:
3 to Str (13)
2 to Char (6)
“We have to go,” Salyards said. “The two casters are healing their best troops, and more are on the way. Gregor is prepping our path of escape.”
More hoofbeats alerted Tim to Ky and Silence, the two Farars riding in at an urgent trot. Tim unfortunately lacked the strength to help Chris and Melody out of the well. It took all he had fighting back the nausea from the urchin poisoning.
Ky had to help him onto his horse as well when Tim lost his balance and started to fall off the side. Tim carefully held on with his one good arm and accepted a cloak Ky said would protect him from more tree urchins.
Apparently, this world liked to throw sea creatures out of its trees to celebrate the falling of the leaf. Tim wasn’t a big fan, but he’d keep his mouth shut if they made it to camp without seeing any more. They rode for hours before Gregor finally slowed down.
“Where are we?” Tim asked Ky.
“A safe place as any between Fararesin and Cocles. Melody is leading us to a ch’kae grove she hopes is still there. For your fading problem.”
Next could be the hot springs or going after whatever clues they could reap from the pouch Chris retrieved from the tree roots. Tim had only been able to accept it into his inventory as Lias’s Pouch.
Gregor circled a tree mumbling something into the air as he enchanted the smoke from his breath. His aura frame shed pink layers of thick shielding into the ground as he paced around the tree, cursing the mist that rose from his breath.
You are not Farar. You are filth.
I can’t picture you with innocence.
Nor ever as brother, again.
Had someone told me you could do this I would have slit their throat to defend your honor.
Now I see you’ve slit your own to free yourself of the burden.
You may think yourself free, but all you’ve done is offloaded your filth,
as though you could live in peace;
Luxury without the stench you deserve.
When I find you, I’m going to spear you to the wall,
through the eye I left you with.
By the fourth time around, Tim memorized the incantation in its original tongue, including the fire spitting finale. Not literal fire, but man, did it get him pumped.
His completion unleashed a wave of golden sheen from his hands and spreading out from his feet. It absorbed into an invisible coating on their camp.
Skill: Protection gained a level (7).
Tier 3 Protection Spell Gleaned.
Speak this incantation with your Protection Spells for +15 Camp Defense and an additional 100 yards AOE.
“Good. Now let’s take a walk. I’m going to teach you how to hunt Takekuma snakes.”
“Nice. They sound Japanese and mysterious.”
Gregor snickered. “They’re named after a wise ol magician who happened upon them while defending his flock. They have a rich storage of aura inside, and from their skins I can craft bracers and other armor extensions. I’d say let’s get some sleep, but this is the first night of the Hunt, and they’re a delicacy to loot before the rest of the hunters get them.”
“Great. Thank you.” Tim’s left hand and forearm were still sore from the urchin burns. His recovery and healing had rid his body of the poison, but the muscle and nerves were still damaged. Chris said he would plant something in the morning when they knew where they could be for more than a day. Tim’s right forearm down to his hand had thankfully not faded anymore but it itched like Hell’s incessant gnawing.
Gregor hurled his blade end over end through the dark.
It landed with a sudden thunk into a thick bough ten feet high and three times that from where they stood. A hissing released from the point of impact. Then something hit the ground, like a rock, followed by a dangling shadow that slid out of the tree.
Bitter pungent fumes wafted up from source as they drew near. A snake’s head looked up at Tim from the dark mess. Its front lip sliced open where the blade entered.
Gregor pinched that flap of skin and handed it to Tim.
He gripped tight and peeled the thick slimy skin from the carcass. It hung in folds stacked up past his waist. He’d have to climb a tree to hold it nose to tail and show its true length. He guessed twelve feet.
“She’s a beaut ain’t she. Now scoop out the guts, there.”
Tim stuck his finger inside the lips and scooped it out, as he said. The fatty insides smelled like a diaper soaked in acid for a second cook and he was getting the first whiff. He blinked as the odor made a home deep in his nostrils.
Gregor smiled at his discomfort.
“Mmm, mmm, mmm, a Hunt delicacy,” Gregor added. “The smell is part of the good stuff because it’s from rich aura. Let’s get this back to camp and eat. Then, if you’re feeling up to it, we can hunt for more.”
On the way, Tim asked Gregor who the poem was about.
Apprehension bled from the captain’s chiseled cheeks like weakness shared between brothers. “I’m glad to meet you, kid. Master Oke gifted well, as did the Wanderer. Chane was someone I met in academy, two years younger but with twice my spirit. I took him under my wing, and he stabbed me in the back.”
Tim wondered if that was when Gregor took Chane’s eye but didn’t want to ask because the captain’s gaze appeared distant. Not hunting, but reflecting. “He’s the leader of the Wachamia Cartel. Before him, there was no cartel. The Crimoan he’s trained as their executioners are the worst of the worst.
“We met one bitter cold morning when he helped me shovel out my dad’s blacksmithing shop. Two feet of snow collapsed the ceiling and my dad’s knee prevented him from fixing it. We needed the trade to feed ourselves and had to retrieve the goods before they were ruined. Chane got five friends to not only get the ceiling nailed back in, they but they also delivered the finished products free of charge.
“Chane always had a way of leading others. Unfortunately, his vice for what it could gain him led him astray. I was there when he killed his first man. He was a teen who stole two saddles. I helped him catch the thief. Chaney said he was going to cut the guy’s hand off himself. It was a mess. The kid fought back. I got involved. Held him down.” Gregor slowed through this part, reflective as he studied the woods. The scene supposedly playing through his mind once more. Ultimately, Gregor sighed more frost breath into the dark night. “I was an accomplice to his first murder. I should have confessed when we were still young. Captain Osfel would have straightened us both out. But I didn’t. Chane’s friends helped him cover it up, and the six of them only grew closer. They pulled the heist where my platoon was stranded at Duffey’s Bay near Warmingham.”
“I have that on a map,” Dryfu volunteered, and a color version appeared before Tim’s eyes.
“It looks like a dwarf’s thumb jutting into the bay near our border with Childockia,” Gregor said. “Duffey’s Bay stretches 300 miles from the sea entry between Witesbu and Wachamia to create a burgeoning trade market taxed by those two countries. Hai Trade Company established a port town there, and it became a hub for trade.
“Chane quickly piled up gold, favors and power, both in items and leveling through those contacts he made by undercutting the tax collected near the open seaports. As he and his friends grew stronger and wealthier, that evolved to drug trade and rumors of rogue leveling outside the pillar countries. I’ve led a task force to investigate his contacts, but probably their main focus in leveling has been in areas that enable them to elude our efforts. We have no doubt he is the leader in the black market for selling levels and illegal spells and items. His location in Wachamia was the main reason the Dutchy struck a deal with them after winning last year’s Hunt. Those two have been busy making sure they don’t lose what that year bought them with the jewel benefiting both of their war chests.
“This past year has been brutal for us Farar and anyone else willing to take a stand against the cartel’s influence. Local police and government are either corrupt or non-vital. It’s pretty much us and the Krows who’ve survived the purge, but we’re on the verge. Besides my love for the fivel beforehand, I’m thrilled to hear of your victory. If they can regroup, they’ll be a solid ally down the road. Could you hold this for a sec?” Gregor handed him a small leather pouch with a golden lace string tied tight. He waited and grinned.
“What?”
“You got that okay?”
He looked at the pouch. In his hand. The semitransparent one. It fell through. His hand remained clenched. “What in the living hell just happened?”
Gregor chuckled. “Well, I have no idea,” he said and clapped Tim on the back. “But we experienced it together, so now we’re brothers. And we’ll figure it out.”
“Dryfu? Any idea?”
His familiar buzzed behind his ear as they passed between tree branches. “Likely has to do with the Takekuma guts on your hand, but it represents a bigger concern. I was impressed and a bit confused when you harnessed a Tier 3 aura weapon. It had to be Draw or something that you cast with your Cultivation charge interacting with the artisan’s spells. Now your aura form is interacting with physical objects?” Dryfu whipped around and through tight spaces between the tall plants and their furry corn shaped cobs.
“Are you angry, D-fu?”
He arced up and halted at eye level. One eye strained the lid in a semi-controlled tremor. “Oh no,” he said, with a raspberry to put emphasis on the sarcasm. “I can’t wait to be the guide who must go wherever you and this rare Aura Mage power path takes you. It’ll be great!”
“A power path that starts with my faded hand holding a non faded object?”
“You have the potential to subvert the physical realm while also manipulating it,” Dryfu said, exhausted. “Normally Aura Mages are powerful enough. Their magic can hurt us, but it isn’t normally that direct. Not at your level. But also because we’re not aura based in race or class. That’s the cost of being an Aura Mage. You’re not a wizard who casts spells like fire or lightning. Artisans are like wizards trying to be an aura mage, and you tapped into that weakness advantage. You reached into their aura and cause damage in potentially more terrifying ways because you can’t see it or heal it by anything but aura spells.”
“Does that mean Chris is part aura?”
Dryfu’s head bobbed. “Yes. Sorcerers flow their aura into the physical realm to create twisted versions of what they’ve occupied, or the seeds they’ve molded with their aura. You might be able to do that with a person and squeeze their heart with your fist. What’s armor to that power?”
Tim was going to think long and hard on this new problem. Power like that would change any man. How could he ensure it would be for good?
Did he really want that? He’d tasted blood and revenge and couldn’t deny the hunger for more.