Cal exhaled slowly, his breath mingling with the mist that rose from the forest edge, illuminated by the dim luminescence. Patience, he reminded himself. In this unfamiliar chessboard, every piece moved with intention. Every word spoken was a step—some ascending, some leading into a shallow grave.

Cal crouched low, as he edged further from the clearing. His eyes scanned for any hint of movement. For either Mara or a hidden accomplice.

Soft soil beneath him, damp with the whispers of the forest, betrayed not a sound. Cal’s every sense was attuned to his environment, ready to catch the faintest snap of twig or rustle of leaf that might signal danger.

"Temp," Cal queried, the name leaving not a breath on his lips. "What’s your analysis," he continued, "on Mara. I can't shake this unease."

"I do not have a good assessment of Mara Aventi," Temp replied, its voice devoid of warmth yet somehow comforting in its constancy. "Her actions remained inconclusive. The brief lapse in her façade was when you displayed your bloodlust."

"Everything about her," Cal said, each word deliberate, "feels like a veneer. She's too calculated." He paused, the air around them charged with his distrust. “I feel that she is luring us into a trap, but there is nothing here to suspect more than an exchange of benefits.”

"Agreed," Temp acknowledged. "Without empirical evidence, though, we cannot further validate this suspicion."

"Is betrayal likely in the first place?" Cal's hand instinctively reached for the knife at his belt.

"Although she may not seek your death, she will want to come out of the engagement on top. Her gentle facade masks a strategic mind," Temp warned.

Cal grunted, acknowledging the risk. "Yeah, but the guideweaves, Temp. Can you unravel them? Give us something on her?"

"Her guideweaves are complex. Intricate patterns. It was like a language on its own, but I have no reference or concept of how it was done. If she has one such weave, she likely has another" Temp's sensors flickered with effort. "My analysis remains incomplete. Unfortunately, the benefits you have secured are exactly what we need to survive here in this foreign world."

"Damnation," Cal exhaled, his hand rested on a nearby tree. "Then we must prepare or run."

Cal muttered, eyes narrowing as he considered their predicament. "Is there anything we can use for leverage if we are forced into this?"

"No, not really Cal. We know too little. Let us analyze the most effective strategy," Temp followed. "Our only advantage is our small knowledge from the journal."

"And that she doesn’t know we know. You know? Let's start with the bramblestag. Location analysis," Cal said, flipping open the journal to the map as he began to assess the terrain and nearby species. Temp projected the location to Cal.

"The terrain would favor an ambush, the bramblestag are located on the edge of the forest." Temp observed, "Elevation could conceal a hidden bowman’s movements. If Mara is the bowman, then she herself could use the range to her advantage if she intends to lead us into a trap."

"Vantage point or trap," Cal mused, tracing a finger along his satchel’s contour lines. "Mara's role—unclear. We can't predict her play, but it remains a disadvantage."

"Indeed, Cal, there are many variables," Temp concurred. "And the outcome is uncertain. Perhaps we should avoid this confrontation."

Cal's mind raced, a whirlwind of tactics and countermeasures tangling like the roots beneath his feet. He crouched lower, the earth cool and firm against his palms. Eyes narrowed to slits, he dissected every scrap of knowledge gleaned from the journal, each spoken word of Mara, all the while aware of Temp's vigilant presence.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Frontal assault? Too direct and would paint a target on our back," he whispered, almost to himself. "A diversion might scatter the bramblestag's focus, but it could lead to Mara regrouping or outright betraying us."

"Indeed, I do not have the mobility of your last team. A divisive approach is not advisable." Temp intoned, its voice devoid of emotion yet imbued with an undercurrent of concern.

"Yeah," Cal paused, thinking back to his old team briefly. They were the reason he only trusted Sari.

“We’ll tackle this head on, if the current board is bad, let’s change it up."

"Let’s scout out the area beforehand to understand if we can force a battle with an intrusive species, or move the bramblestags to a more favorable location."

A sigh escaped Cal, breath mingling with the mist that began to rise as night deepened. He stood, movements fluid, a shadow among shadows. "If it's a game, then we play it on our terms."

He walked forwards heading towards the bramblestags. Whatever lay ahead, he would meet it head-on, with cunning as his shield and resolve as his spear – and also his normal spear. This would be a long night.

Cal's fingers delved into the satchel, the bristling energy of the electric squirrels' organs tingling against his skin. He withdrew them, each organ glistening with a faint, otherworldly luminescence. A shiver coursed down his spine, anticipation and apprehension warring within him as he teased the energy.

"Careful Cal," Temp replied, its tone an even keel. "I do not believe this is necessary."

Nodding, Cal focused on the task at hand. “Sorry bud, I think we both know that we will need all the strength we have for tomorrow.” His hands hovered above the first organ, hesitating for a breath before making contact.

The moment his flesh met the slick surface, energy fused into him, ethereal tendrils that teased at the edges of his consciousness. It was eerie, the way they seemed to circulate inwards then back outwards.

"Steady," he muttered, grounding himself in the physical realm as the whispers grew silent.

His body tensed, then relaxed as he surrendered to the absorption. Energy pulsed from the organs into Cal, a current that threaded through to his soul and then back to his body, igniting a clarity that sharpened his senses. Muscles fortified with vigor, mind alight with newfound strength, he exhaled slowly, the world coming into acute focus.

"Is it working?" Temp's query cut through the singular purpose.

"Perfectly," Cal replied, his voice stronger now. "I’ll absorb the rest while we move."

"Very well." Concern laced Temp's words, though unspoken warnings hung heavy between them.

Cal didn't need to voice his agreement; the weight of their situation bore down on them both, a silent understanding that each step forward was one closer to the abyss.

Cal's fingers twitched, a rhythm of necessity as they reached for each subsequent organ. Eleven in total, each pulsing with latent energy, called out to be claimed. He wrapped his hands around them, their bioelectric hum vibrating against his skin, a siren song only he could hear.

The forest around him dimmed, reality bending at the edges of Cal’s perception as the absorption continued.

His muscles bulled against the tidal wave of energy, sinews straining under the onslaught. His heart hammered, a drumbeat syncing with the wild dance of power now coursing through his veins. Each organ melded into him, foreign whispers dimming as he found new clarity.

"Cal?" Temp sounded distant, a specter on the fringes of this electrified domain, “That is six.”

"Still here," Cal managed, though it felt like speaking from the eye of a hurricane.

He surrendered to his intent, letting the storm sweep him along its course. The whispers grew softer still, now giving way to a sharpness and unwavering purpose that imprinted itself upon his mind.

“Flip the table.”

“What is that, Cal?”

“We will flip the whole goddess damned table.”

With every heartbeat, his determination solidified, resolve hardening like steel tempered in otherworldly flames.

"Control it. Don't let it control you," Temp warned, the urgency clear even through the tempest.

"Control is an illusion," Cal breathed, a new and brilliant strategy emerging from his clarity. Cal knew the way forward, he trusted it and he knew he could grasp it.

Cal opened his eyes, the world crisp and anew. He rose, steady and sure, the strength of eleven felled creatures woven into the fabric of his power.

Together, they plotted beneath the cloak of encroaching dusk, warriors bound by necessity, bracing against the tide of an uncertain future.

As the last of the organs dissipated, absorbed entirely, the whispers pulled in again, but softer.

With it, Cal let out a gasp, clutching at his twitching muscles. He fell to the ground and shivered in a mix of pain and pleasure as his entire body filled with excitement and torture in equal measure. This was new and uncharted, and he felt the growing strength a qualitative increase in power. It was an excruciating adaptation, though certainly muted in comparison to injuries of the soul.

[Achieve 100 base strength while still a mortal - title awarded, Challenger of strength]

[Challenger of strength: +7% strength]

[How the fuck did you get this title, chair? You’re sitting at 39 base strength. Wait until the guys at the treasury hear about this.]

[Investigation protocol JE-169861 initiated]