Verlon was anything but okay. The trip further into the Graviton Highlands had started off well enough. The sun was low, so he had plenty of time to get close to the Floating Mesa before the twilight predators came out to play. The journey was quite far, so it would probably take a day and a half to reach it.

He had walked down the verdant hill shortly after leaving Stefan, keeping on the high ground as much as he could as the hill cliffed off into the occasional valley or pond. It was quite the scenic view if he wasn’t so stressed about catching the eye of a Gravitic Wyrm. They were mostly scavengers though, so there was little chance he would get attacked.

He had used the scattered boulders for cover as much as he could, hiding from the prying eyes of an interested party. And he knew for a fact they were out there. He had already spotted a pack of Stormhound’s with his binoculars. Their sparking fur was quite the distinguishable feature and one he wouldn’t miss among the greens and grays of the Graviton Highlands. Thankfully, they were down a cliff and far off to the northwest, so there was little chance of them coming for him or Stefan.

The spiraling issue came when he walked about a mile in. His hill’s luxurious green grass grew a darker shade, evidence of superior soil. Then, it abruptly terminated into a rock face on all sides except his approach. Turning back would waste half a day, so he continued to the fifty-foot drop of the north cliff. This wasn’t his first time going up or down cliff faces, so he knew what to do.

First, he scouted the area with his binoculars just like he did at every other cliff, making sure there was nothing immediately dangerous at the base of the cliff. Other than a couple of gophers, there was nothing that screamed danger to him. The only areas he would have to be wary of were the massive boulders that could be hiding predators behind them. He then tied a rope around his waist and slowly worked his way down while anchoring every once in a while.

He got about forty feet down the cliff when the cliff moved. And not just a simple shift of the land due to an earthquake. The entire thing rose at least forty feet into the air with enough force to pull at his grip. It was at that moment he realized he royally fucked up. At some point, he had boarded and began walking across a fucking gargantian without noticing.

There was no telling what kind of gargantian it was, though it was surely massive considering the earth boomed with every step. He clung desperately to the side of the beast’s shell, desperate not to fall off. It was becoming increasingly difficult as the shockwaves traveled up his arms. He needed a plan, and fast.

There was absolutely no way he could kill the beast considering not even white crosses, the highest rank of Seekers and living legends, had killed a gargantian. That left two options: hold on till the beast stopped again, which could be in a few minutes or a few weeks, or attempt a dismount, however dangerous that may be.

His boots could fight gravity somewhat, but he was too far up to try. At his height, he would shatter several of his bones at best. At worse… Well, falling was a really stupid way to die. He would have to get further down if he wanted to get off this massive beast.

He slowly moved, careful to not get torn right off the rock by the harsh winds. They hadn’t been bad originally, but the winds were growing more and more fierce as the beast picked up speed. If he didn’t get off now, his boots wouldn’t matter since he would have so much forward momentum his body would literally break against the ground.

He sped up, losing his grip a few times as the beast’s steps rocked his surroundings. Verlon stopped anchoring into the rocks, realizing it was taking too much time to go the safe way. He climbed furiously, only stopping when his foot hit open air as the creature’s shell ended.

Verlon paused, taking a moment to take into account his situation before he recklessly tossed himself off the beast. He was maybe forty feet off the ground, hanging off from the creature’s shell. A fall from this height was equivalent to a four-story drop. The boots might be able to stop his downward momentum, though he had never attempted it from so far up. He needed another variable to guarantee his safety. After all, if he jumped just to break one of his limbs he might as well just die clinging to the shell. The end result would be the same.

He was in luck though. The beast seemed to be moving to a forest hidden in the valley of two mountains. If he could break his fall with a tree, he might escape a serious injury. Sure he would get cut up, but cuts were much preferred to broken bones.

Based on the tree's green hue, he was in luck. The Graviton Highlands had two main tree species: Razoroot and Razor Pine. They were trees that had parts of them that were as sharp as a razor and could easily kill unsuspecting prey. Razor Pines resembled a pine tree with silvery pine needles that were incredibly sharp. Razoroots also looked like pine trees, though they were the normal evergreen colors, except they had long roots that acted like broadswords.

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Thankfully, the forest seemed to be Razoroots so he should be able to land on a tree without too many issues as long as he didn’t hit the ground. If it was a Razor Pine forest, he would be minced meat before his sliced flesh could even hit the ground.

The fall wasn’t the only issue, unfortunately. Far up above, Gravitic Wyrms were already beginning to circle like vultures. He didn’t need to be close to know how they looked since they were the most documented creatures of the Graviton Highlands. They looked like leeches with four long spindly wings hanging off their bodies. The wings were a red herring as he knew they actually flew by localized gravity manipulation. Their mouths were several times larger than they had a right to be with several mandibles.

Gravitic Wyrms were known to be lazy beasts. Their favored prey grounds were following Gargantians and eating the leftovers. He might be able to take on one if they spotted him, but not the entire pack. They would tear him to shreds in a heartbeat. There weren’t too many gathered yet, so he had a chance of escaping unnoticed.

He didn’t have a choice though. He would have to jump and pray for a miracle. He simply didn’t have the rations to wait until the Gargantian stopped. As soon as the forest came into view, he jumped off the side and entered a free fall towards the pointed pine trees.

As he was falling, he got a good look at the gargantian who carried him away. It looked like a turtle with a shell made of the earth. The entire thing was covered in grass and rock as if the gargantian was a piece of the land who gained sentience rather than a beast. It had four long and thick legs, each moving at a deceptively slow pace. It stepped down, crushing an entire patch of trees with a boom. He couldn’t see its head, just the four limbs, and a ‘short’ stubby tail.

He would’ve liked to observe more, but he had more pressing matters. Gravity, for instance. He was quickly closing in on the trees’ canopy. Just before he made impact, he activated his boots, shooting out a burst of steam. It barely did anything to stop his acceleration as he slammed into the outstretched branches of the pines. His momentum immediately came to a halt as he felt all of his organs jostle.

What happened next was a mystery. He blacked out after hitting the first branch and experiencing a piercing pain in his arm.

Verlon groaned as he awoke to the creaking sounds of shattered tree limbs. He tried to lean up but felt his entire body lock up in agony. Nothing felt broken, although he thought he was heavily banged up. Oh, and there was a tree branch stabbed through his arm and into his side like a trident through a fish. Minor injuries all things considered.

It took a long time before he felt stable enough to move without falling off the branch he commandeered. The branch had gone through the flesh of his arm and into his side just below his armor’s protections, which made him regret getting one that only protected his upper chest. Thankfully, his rib stopped the branch before it could reach any of his internal organs.

He groaned as he shifted around on the branch until he was leaning up against the trunk of the tree. Shifting slowly so as not to aggravate his wound, he pulled his backpack off and around to his front. All one-armed, of course, since his left arm was impaled up against his side as if it had been stapled down.

“Fuck! Damn it!” He tried to keep his voice down, but screaming in pain was second nature. After rifling through his bag, cutting up his hand in the process since his lantern and a couple of his glass bottles had shattered, he pulled free his bag of medical equipment.

He wrapped his hand around the branch, intending to pull it out but pausing as he felt it scrape against his bone. His throat bobbed for a second before he carefully pulled the branch out of his side, freeing his arm. After it was free, he pulled up his shirt as far as it would go without aggravating his arm and poured alcohol to clean out the wound. A suppressed scream rang through his throat as the alcohol cleansed the wound.

Then, he pulled out the bottle of Corpse Bud venom and poured a quarter of it onto his side. In an instant, the pain faded to nothing as the venom’s properties took effect, paralyzing and numbing his entire side with a cool feeling. He then pulled a needle and thread from his bag. Just barely managing to hold in bile as he forcibly pulled his paralyzed flesh back together, he threaded the needle through his own skin. Since he was one-handed, the stitches were of terrible quality, but they held together. Barely. Finally, he wrapped a bandage around himself before dropping his shirt back into place.

He took a few breaths as he looked at his arm. The branch had pierced through his bicep, narrowly missing his humerus just above the elbow. Truly he was quite unlucky. If he had moved his arm just slightly, his bracers would’ve blocked the branch. He didn’t let himself dwell in that thought process for too long. His stamina was draining as rapidly as his blood and he needed to finish treating his wounds.

He grabbed the blood-stained branch one last time. He could feel the pulsing of his heart through the branch and the fibers of his muscles tear as he pulled it free of his arm. He gave it the same treatment as his side after pulling out a few fragments of wood before he collapsed against the trunk of the tree.

The tree was probably the safest spot for him, not that he could’ve gotten anywhere else as banged up as he was. He pulled free the rope he had made into a harness and tied it around the limb, securing himself to it. He used the leftover length to tie down all of his valuables before pulling a black candle from his bag.

The candle wasn’t just any regular old candle. It had cost a whole silver note - equivalent to a hundred silver coins - just to get the candle. It was made from the fat of a Wardger and inherited its ability to remove scents in the immediate area. He hated to use the candle considering it was literally like burning money, but no amount of money was worth his life.

He lit the candle and it gave off a dull green flame as the wick danced under the heat’s ministrations. It wasn’t immediate, but he could already tell the difference in the air. The scent of his blood was slowly being scrubbed away, which would eliminate most predators from tracking him down.

Once the candle was set up, his fatigue caught up and he passed out against the blood-stained tree trunk.