Throwing a look back once more, Nameless climbed up the steep scree leading to his cave. Fear, panic, and anxiety nipped at his paws, the insidious emotions still baying now – at the end of his trudge back – just as they had when he had first begun to distance himself from the Stage Four’s devastation.

Their presence weighed heavily upon him, his head filled with visions of great Beasts and Monsters, doing to him as had been done to the corpses now far behind. However, as he pushed his way through the foliage at the mouth of the den, they paled in comparison to what had only festered and infected his every thought and breath…

Rage and frustration.

As he stepped fully into the space, he had begun to consider home, Nameless felt no sort of comfort within its walls. Stifled. Constricted. He had no greater desire than to expose his claws and score them across those very same structures, until his fury had abated… or his claws had cracked.

But, with the very whispers of what composure within him remained, he huffed and stopped just short.

Nameless glared at the walls, his thoughts drowned under a hateful and bitter tide, a snarl slipping out from between his fangs, “After all that talk of “Revelations”, of “Proving” yourself to the World… What. Did. You. Do.”

“Experiment? Practice?!” He realized during the long and slow trek, left to seethe with only his thoughts as companion, that he had fallen to an insidious and oh so simple thing…

Freedom.

The allure of an existence devoid of the deception that even stood prominently amongst his Skills had rapidly grown far beyond a temptation, wrapping itself around him in a comforting embrace of complacency. He had allowed himself the delusion of freedom, its Siren presence giving confidence to the portions of himself long suppressed, rapidly surmounting his commitment to necessity with his desire to be as he always wanted.

He lost himself in the leisure of his theories and tests, in the enjoyment of his intelligence finally unhindered… and neglected the reality that threatened to drag him back no matter his desires.

Until that reality stood right before him; its fetid truth filling his nostrils, occluding his sight with its dreadful presence, and draping over him as tangibly as the moisture that clung to his hide…

He could have been one of those corpses.

Shaking in bitter frustration, Nameless felt regret and fear coil tightly around his heart, “I did not need another reminder of my weakness…” A harsh growl rumbled up from his chest, the memory of the mysterious Stage Four mingling with those of his mother’s domineering presence, “Though it seems circumstances would say otherwise.”

He closed his eyes, his growl becoming a weary and defeated sigh. He regretted his lapse, not just for its having happened, but also for how his taste of freedom – and the enjoyment within it he had found, in finally having a time to be himself – had been soured so…

“I do not have the time to be myself…” Nameless opened his eyes and padded over to one of the walls, pressing his head against the cool stone, “Whatever delusion of freedom I allowed to take me was a lie.”

He pressed his forehead harder against the wall, feeling its rough texture dig into his skin, “There is no safety here for me to learn about myself, to waste time in pursuing the myriad ideas that swirl around my head… not when I am so weak and powerless…”

He gave voice to his frustration and fury as he pushed harder, feeling the stone cut through his flesh, blood welling up to drip down his face, “I was a fool to think otherwise, as all I must– and can – do is Grow. Nothing less and certainly nothing more.”

Nameless’s practice and tests were valuable for the insights and increase in proficiency they provided him with – the improved aid of his Skills invaluable in his continued survival and progression – yes. However, devoid of the necessary Growth to support them, they were hollow things as weak as himself.

Even the presence of a hostile Stage Four would harm him, no manner of his Traits or Skills capable of spanning the Gap between their respective Growths. And unable to even touch upon Magic as he was – even if his Skills had been something like Journeymen or even beyond – there would be no chance of survival.

But with Magic, there might just be.

Though, as he had realized shortly after the wildfire, there was only one path to which that sort of Growth could be claimed…

Through struggle and strife.

No amount of his practicing, testing, or theorizing could amount to the same progression as danger could; his having not gained so much as a single Level, despite his Skills developments, standing as testament to that truth…

The blood seeping from the cuts in Nameless’s forehead trailed down his face, over his brows and nose to drip quietly against the floor, his mind turning away from recrimination to the future, “I will have to claim the Second and my Magic quickly to even have the chance to survive what is out there… though the process to gain them may kill me just as well.”

He slowly removed his head from the wall, feeling the blood sticking against it resist slightly at his pulling away, “But, if that is to be the consequence of my being so idiotic and having fallen to delusion, so be it.”

He moved, his eyes unfocused as frustration swelled within him, “I do not know if I should be angered of or indebted to that Stage Four’s reminding me of my place and… awakening me to my complacence. However, I will not allow its lesson to be so easily discarded as I did my last.”

Nameless released a snarl, dripping with scorn and tension, “No, I will not be letting myself forget this mistake of mine any time soon I would think…” he looked towards the mouth of the cave, almost feeling as though he could see through the foliage to the world outside, “And neither will the World if it has any choice in the matter, likely to carve this lesson into my hide as it is.”

“As it very well should.”

The Stage Four’s appearance had already done so after all, the aftermath of its power lingering within his mind like an insidious fog – tinging every thought since, with its presence – and the path to claiming an iota of safety within the wilds would as well by its end, there being no possibility of his reaching the Second Stage without a fair share of wounds.

He chuckled mirthlessly, his mind lashing about with derision, “Maybe next time, I will not allow my “intelligence” to blind me to what is necessary; and be a little wiser to where and what I am, before I allow myself to be drawn at the snout by whimsy and delusions…”

“Even if doing so taught me more about myself than all the other seasons I have spent stalking below the Brothers.”

Conflict raged heavily within his thoughts still, so many differing opinions towards his situation making Nameless’s mind a messy quagmire. However, as he slumped to the ground – contradictory thoughts rampant – he grasped the only concise string of thought he could, “The Proving is about Growth – the growth of power mostly, yes – but also one in knowledge… even if what is learnt is more through mistakes.

“But learning of flaws is just as valuable as learning of virtues.” Nameless closed his eyes, already feeling that his sleep would be a restless one, “After all, what is a life if you do not struggle and stumble through it?”

―――――――――

That sleepless night drifted through Nameless’s mind as quickly as a mist fleeing the suns’ light, rapidly dispersing under yet another sharp wave of pain as he dodged another swipe of a Bark Horn’s head.

He had given himself no time to turn away from the necessary path as he did before, leaving his cave for the wilds and… conflict within, the moment the Brothers had begun to crest over the horizon. Since then, he had hunted without pause, going after any manner of creature that could even remotely pose a challenge to him; throwing himself headfirst into danger to violently drown out the concerns, anxiety, fear, and shame that still circled his thoughts.

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Though he had only really succeeded in replacing them with something more… pervasive.

Pain.

His dodge turned into a tumble, the myriad cuts, bruises, and rents covering his hide reminding him of their presence with an agonizing roar. The pain caused his vision to darken – mind stuttering under the torturous wave – his body feeling sluggish and unresponsive…

But only for a moment.

With a grating snarl, Nameless barely pushed the pain aside, his focus returning with all the clarity his new [Observation] could provide.

Even with his consciousness fleeing him for an instant, the Bark Horned Buffalo was only just turning about to face him again, its pivot ponderous and ungainly.

The Beast was a broad and muscled one – large bundles of muscle shifting obviously under its skin – its hide the colour of freshly soaked soil, a deep rich brown, and its horns… its horns appeared like the trunks of trees. Ending in harsh points, the Buffalo’s swept back horns were covered in a startling red bark – granting them an almost blood-soaked appearance – darkest at their base and gradually brightening to the tips.

Those very same points swayed before him as the Bark Horn met his gaze, its brown eyes radiating a palpable hatred of the threat he posed to it.

The Beast huffed loudly while Nameless’s evaluated it, watching its every breath, shift, and twitch of its muscles; [Observation] honing his vision and feeding his mind to bursting with additional information.

However, he was only watching – and waiting – for one small thing.

“Now!” He moved the instant he caught the muscular ripple of an impending charge, both his and the Buffalo’s movements occurring almost simultaneously, clods of mud thrown up by their respective feet.

The Beast’s surprise was obvious; Nameless choice to face it directly, as well as his own charge – aided further by [Proprioception] and [Sprint] – containing a clear control and speed that its own was lacking, having some affect. But, just as quickly as it had appeared, did the Bark Horn’s surprise disappear to be replaced by the same rage of moments before, its hatred of a threat and predator far more dominant than any other thought it could manage.

Much to its misfortune.

Closing upon each other, Nameless lunged forward, crudely combining [Dodge] and [Leap] to take himself below the sweep of the Buffalo’s horns. The momentum of his charge sent him further forward – though the awkward nature of his pounce caused him to take painful kick to the chest – and to the Beast’s quickly passing flank.

“Move!” He urged himself, pulling heavily upon [Proprioception] to get his paws under him and body reoriented, the motion causing another deep torrent of pain to wash through him.

His legs' every muscle coiling, he snapped forward and roared into another leap, his body slamming into the Buffalo’s just behind its right foreleg. His voice cried out even louder as something in his chest gave disconcertingly, mingling with the Bark Horn’s own at the audible *crack* of its leg snapping under Nameless’s assault.

In a mess of violence, claws, fangs, hooves, and horns; Nameless followed the Buffalo down, their momentum causing them to crash into the marsh in a spray of mud and water.

At impact the Bark Horn released a shrill scream, its own body causing the already broken leg to completely fold with a wet *snap*, its mouth foaming from agony. It mewled and writhed in the shallow mud and water, the Beast’s eyes cloudy with pain and its every breath and snort wet with panic.

While the Beast wallowed in its wounds, Nameless shakily rose to his paws a couple paces from the Bark Horn, thrown away by a lucky kick on the way down… and looked himself over.

He was… battered; blood ran freely from tears, slashes, and punctures – both old and new – across his body, he could feel the heat of bruises and swelling covering him from tail to nose, every muscle shook with fatigue, twitching and rolling uncomfortably by their own volitions, and he struggled to breathe, more than a few broken or bruised ribs painfully shifting in his chest.

“Not… looking too good…” His thoughts were slow and ponderous, pain and fatigue slowing him down to an agonizing crawl, “But not… done yet.”

With one unsteady paw forward, Nameless approached the downed Buffalo, finding his closing presence completely disregarded by the wounded Beast.

It continued its hollow defeated cries, twisting aimlessly on its functioning back hooves while the front half remained pressed deeply into the soft mud, completely lame.

Tired and injured, he had little room for pitying the Beast as it desperately struggled against inevitability… however, as it once more turned, its pain darkened eyes meeting his own, Nameless paused.

He stared, watching the Bark Horn try and raise itself on its one remaining front limb, only to collapse in a heap with a despondent bray yet again, and did not so much as twitch, “This… could be me.”

The thought sent a shiver across Nameless’s fur, cutting through the pain and exhaustion like his claws through flesh, and urging him forward. He leapt ahead with the haste of prey hunted, landing beside the Buffalo’s head, fangs already bared and poised to strike…

“Compassion… is likely something I will not… receive when I go.” Nameless snapped down, his teeth shearing through the Bark Horn’s flesh to gratingly *crunch* through its spine, with the sound of the Beast’s final exhale – a soft huff – reaching his ears as Death granted it rest, “But I can… show it to you… with this.”

“Rest… for it is well deserved.”

Releasing his fangs hold, he rose and sat on his haunches, the Buffalo’s neck slumping down without his jaws holding it up. His every breath and movement were labored, the act of sitting causing a low groan of discomfort to rumble up from his throat, head spinning with a dizzying array of painful hues.

“I may have pushed myself too far…” He hissed at a painful twitch from his ribs, struggling to keep himself upright and conscious as the battle lust faded, “I need-I need to rest… though…”

“How long has it been since I last ate?” His stomach rumbling, Nameless looked at the Bark Horn’s body, running through the past three moons of hunting and fighting, “Too long… it would seem.”

The Bark Horn was the most recent in days’ worth of kills and combat; three Onyx-Fangs, three Great Blossom Spiders, a Shelled Ground Sloth, a troupe of Splinter Baboons, five Vine Furred Fox, and at least seven other Beast and Monsters all preceding it… and all left behind.

He had moved from one creature to the next, stalking them down with a single-minded devotion, everything… everything else being completely disregarded for conflict and battle, “I-I do not believe I have even stopped… to check the progress of my Growth.”

Concern overwhelmed the pain wracking his body, the startling realization that he had become so consumed in his hunting that he had even neglected its purpose, slamming into him with as much force as he had the Buffalo, “I… just moved from one extreme to another…”

Much to his disappointment, he had over corrected, allowing himself to become too entangled by the regret, shame, and anger caused by his prior lapse, to notice that he had progressed far past just finding challenges to Grow against…

And well into the realm of recklessly endangering himself without a mind to consequence or reasoning.

“You absolute imbecile…” Nameless wanted to scream and rage at his incompetence, his humiliation and regret immense; but instead, he merely… collapsed.

He heavily flopped to his stomach, the muck underneath squelching wetly under his bulk, the Bark Horn’s corpse forgotten behind a chaotic flood of self-deprecation, “I had but one focus… one path… and even that proved to be too complicated for such a moron as myself…”

The world became muted under a deluge of shame, frustration, and negativity, Nameless’s every perceived mistake eroding away any semblance of confidence or understanding he had gathered, leaving him adrift within their choking waters.

Trapped within his mind, his emotions assaulted him as assuredly as every manner of Beast and Monster he had ever crossed claws with had, their scathing sentiments cutting as deep as the tears that seeped across his hide. He felt… lost, two major mistakes one after the other completely undermining his trust within himself.

“You are useless…”

“Incapable…”

“Weak…”

“A failure…”

The voices of his doubts and complexes engulfed his head – roaring like wild, rapid waters – his consciousness feeling as though it were drowning, being pulled under by their fatalistic currents…

Before, just as he felt himself on the verge of breaking, his spiral did instead.

Like the wind from a storm strong enough to rip trees from their roots, his thoughts were cleared in a great sweeping gale, the flood of negativity dispersing into a fading cloud of gloom.

“[Wisdom].”

Though he felt no presence as he had before, the Trait’s effects were no less significant. In the wake of its touch a clarity of thought asserted itself, Nameless’s mind evaluating his decisions – and the situation they led to – rather than becoming mired within the mistake they entailed.

“Wisdom.” He again intoned, slowly finding an equilibrium of opinion, a… calm settling over him like the aftermath of a storm, “It was a mistake to so mindlessly throw myself into danger without pause and risk my life, for no other reason than my shame, embarrassment, and frustration…”

“Just as it was a mistake for me to neglect my circumstances, wasting time – as well as my own survival – distracted by my freedom and autonomy, rather than accepting my condition and doing what was necessitated of me.” He continued, piecing together a gradual understanding, “But they have already been made, and no amount of my regrets, frustrations, anger, or shame will change that….”

After so long without, this was the [Wisdom] he remembered; its providing him the composure necessary to put his thoughts and decisions together in the manner that most represented… Him.

“While I would prefer nothing more than to never have to make such mistakes again, they are – in their own way – necessary.” He felt the world begin to reassert itself to his senses, “For all [Wisdom] has provided, there is so much I do not understand or know, and it is through my mistakes and success both that I am capable of rectifying that.”

He breathed deeply, wincing slightly as his ribs protested, smelling the musk of the forest, “But I cannot allow myself to make the same such mistakes again; as it is one thing to make it in the first place, and another entirely not to learn from it, so as not to make it again.”

Taking another breath, he felt himself settle, his thoughts turning to [Wisdom] itself and its sudden reappearance… when he froze.

Mind and body halting, he scented at the air again, something mixed in with the smells of the forest and the dead Buffalo, that had his instinct’s hackles risen, “What is i-?”

Abruptly the thought – and his continued efforts in picking out the smell – were ended, neither question necessary…

Afterall, the growl beside him was more than answer enough.