Chapter 8

I got out of the forest mostly intact. I still had my sword, I had two fireballs remaining, and I had most of my gear still. My left arm throbbed with pain. The slime’s ooze had literally burned away a layer of skin, leaving raw nerves and flesh behind. The humid air did little to ease its suffering. I’d also lost a boot during my escape. One of the slimes, whether through diabolic planning or sheer stupid luck, had landed in a small indent in the ground, masking its form from my view. I’d stepped in it, completely submerging my foot in its jelly like flesh.

Thankfully I’d been running full tilt at that time, with more than fifty slimes rolling after me. As such, when I tripped in the hole, I fell forward with quite a bit of force. The slime’s acid ate the boot right off my foot but didn’t have time to burn my flesh like its friend had my arm. Still, having only a single boot on, and traversing with the other foot barefoot, further complicated my climb.

The Reaping will push you. It is meant to show you your resolve, and your limits. Only through perseverance will you become a climber and reap the Tower’s blessing.

These words, told to us by the Seventeenth Tower Keeper, were part of the teachings of the Tower. What happened to recruits after The Reaping was kept secret. All we were told was we must enter the tower, and climb as high as we could, until we died. Only then would we receive the full bounty of the Tower’s blessing. And only then would our marks unlock the powers that belonged to climbers, and climbers alone.

I looked down at my right hand, at the serpent eating its tail. It was known as the Ouroboros and was the mark of a climber. More specifically, the mark of one destined to be a climber. Upon completion of The Reaping, the mark would change. The Tower itself would appear in the center of the serpent, bisecting the point where its body coiled and met in the sideways eight like pattern, forming a cross pattern of sorts. The Tower and Ouroboros, the true mark of a climber.

Unfortunately, the literature, the lessons, all knowledge about what happened after The Reaping, was kept from us. If we knew in advance, we’d been told, it would cheapen the experience. Meaning all I could do, all any of the recruits could do, was throw ourselves, full force, into our task and our goal.

For that reason, I gritted my teeth and continued exploring the second floor, though I was keen to give the forest a wide berth. If the portal was inside that jungle, then so be it. However, I was first going to look elsewhere, across the open fields of tall grass, and even the massive river of water I could see in the distance. There were dangers, obviously, in all the different areas, but at the very least, out in the open, I didn’t have to worry about slime falling on my head.

Without my shield, my fighting style would be different. Gone was my ability to block attacks as I had before. Thankfully, it wasn’t something that would be a fatal disadvantage. Just as we’d been taught to fight with a sword and board, so too had we been taught to fight with just a single blade. In fact, we’d learned a variety of different styles. After all, short swords weren’t the only types of blades out there, and depending on the blade, the optimal fighting style would differ.

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Without a knife for my left hand, or another short sword, I ran through my options for fighting. The short sword itself didn’t offer much space to wield in both hands, and with the state of my left arm and hand, an agile dueling method was out of the question. Rolling to avoid attacks would have to be a last resort too, as I already knew rolling onto my left arm would cause an unbelievable amount of pain. Sure, adrenaline may soften the blow, but the last thing I needed when battling a monster was to inflict unnecessary, possibly distracting pain to myself.

That meant I’d have to focus on sidestepping attacks, fancy footwork, and perfectly timed parries. Honestly, it was a more effective fighting style when done properly, and a faster style, than sword and board. But it was more complex as well. Using a sword and shield, hands down, had always felt like the easiest, most straightforward style we’d been taught. Probably because it had also been the first style we’d been taught, when they began our weapons training.

I wistfully thought about one of the few aspects of future climbs, the rare tidbits of dangled knowledge, that we’d been given. After our first climb, we’d have the ability to carry with us multiple weapons at any given time, as well as gear. Through the magic of the Tower, I’d not have to worry about being in a situation like I was now. The destruction of my shield, the loss of my boot, wouldn’t be as big of an inconvenience as it is now. At least… that’s what a random climber had said during one of our training sessions. He’d been silenced by a glare from Commander Phyr before he could elaborate, but that single tidbit was enough to make us wonder, and dream.

The near waist-high grass before me shifted unnaturally, drawing me from my daydreaming, possibly pain induced delusional state. I narrowed my gaze, squinting once again against the bright light from the ceiling above, searching for the cause of the movement. I caught sight of something dark and black, though it was hard to pinpoint. Something was definitely moving, though it slunk low to the ground, using the grass to cover itself.

I paused and held my sword up, steadying my breathing as I prepared for the attack to come at any moment. Whatever it was, it wasn’t docile. The way it moved, as if it were trying to encircle me to find an opening, was textbook predator work. It was looking for an opening. And I was doing my best to not give it one.

“Come on then,” I said in challenge. My palm was sweaty, my grip on the sword slick. I wanted to wipe my hand dry, but knew if I shifted sword hands, even for a second, the creature stalking me would find its opening. I thought, considered the state I was in, and made a decision. As limited as they were, I’d rather use my spells, than die having left them unused. I summoned a ball of flames in my left hand, the glowing light causing the creature eyeing me to pause, denoted by the sudden lack of motion within the grass.

“If you won’t come out of hiding,” I said, as I pulled my arm back, “then I’ll make you show yourself.” I threw the ball towards where I’d last noticed the creature, watching as the flames erupted into the grass. There was a startled roar and hiss, followed by a blaze of flames, as the grass caught went up in flames. The heat from the fireball was enough to set part of the grass alight, and quickly, dreadfully so, the flames spread.

A yowl of rage, and a black streak leaping towards me mere feet from where my fireball had landed, pulled my focus away from the quickly growing grassfire. That was something I’d have to deal with later. For now, I had a much more pressing concern. For now, I had a jaguar to deal with.