Novels2Search

Chapter 7 - Sparks

Cal jolted awake. The moon cast a pale light over his makeshift branch bed. Pain seared through his arm, a stark contrast to the cool night air. He winced, flexing his fingers; they responded sluggishly. A fracture, no doubt— what was a passing thought in the heat of battle, was now no doubt, a vulnerability.

"Goddess be damned," Cal muttered. He couldn't afford this setback—not now.

Gritting his teeth, he shifted and reached for his recently made hog hide satchel. It bulged with the precious organ he had procured earlier. Somehow, he knew that it held the potential to replenish his waning energy, but there was a pang of regret for the one that he left behind.

And the two that remained inside the hogs.

"Absorbing it now would be unwise," Temp's voice echoed in his head, stern. "Your judgment was off. You made rookie mistakes today."

Cal exhaled slowly, acknowledging the truth in Temp's warning. He could feel it—the pull of the organs, a siren song. "One will have to suffice, unfortunately I need to be strong enough to move," he conceded, looking at the organ closely. Its surface pulsed faintly.

"Proceed with caution," Temp advised, concerned that Cal remained adamant about absorbing another organ.

Cal focused on the organ, feeling its energy seep into him, a warmth spreading across his battered form. The pain in his arm dulled, a distant throb now, as he harnessed the organ's essence.

Cal's fracture slowly knit itself together over the next hour. His wounds left scars. This reminder of vulnerability in this alien world was now just a memory etched into his flesh. He flexed his fingers, testing the limits of his renewed strength.

"Better," he grunted, satisfaction lacing the single word.

"You should still rest," Temp intoned, its voice carrying a note of concern that bordered on human. "Your body may have healed, but you may still be on edge."

Cal sighed at the AI's insistence. His instincts screamed to move, to act, yet the cold truth of Temp's argument anchored him. He dropped onto his back with another exasperated sigh, relenting to the wisdom of machine over man.

"Fine," he acquiesced, though every fiber of him bristled against the inaction.

"Good," Temp responded, the sound almost approving. "While you recuperate, I've computed gains from today's endeavors. I have gained levels and attributes for three vanquished foes. I am now level 15."

"Only three?" Cal's brow furrowed, his thoughts immediately leaping to the incongruity.

"Correct. The fourth, claimed by the trap, did not register as a kill." Temp indicated, “This may be the system’s not so subtle critique on the reliance of passive stratagems. The system only rewards conquest.”

"Unfortunate," Cal muttered, not too worried over Temp’s missed opportunity. The leveling system likely rewarded only if the user had a direct hand in death.

Cal’s mind already raced ahead to the next hunt. But for now, he lay still, letting the quiet darkness of the alien night envelop him as he surrendered once more to rest.

Upon waking again, Cal's arm throbbed, only a deep bruise remaining to remind him of his mortality. He lay in the early morning light, the sounds of the alien world a soft cacophony outside his sanctuary.

“Temp has there been any significant changes to our statuses?” Cal’s mind felt clear after sleeping, but wanted to confirm that the effects of the organ was temporary.

“No significant changes. Whatever the organ is doing to your mind, it is not easy to track – I have a suspicion that your high wisdom stat may be helping mitigate to a degree though.”

Temp paused, then flashed the hunting quest as well. “We have also fallen behind in the hunt.”

"Temp," Cal whispered, his voice a hushed tone amid the rustling leaves. "Your rank, has increased to 689, no? "

[Quest: Hunt! Survive the trial grounds on Hetar-172 and claim victory through slaughter (72 pts / rank 689)]

"Correct." Temp's response was clinical, devoid of concern. "The system seems to readjust the rankings periodically. However, it also appears that a threshold has been set. Entities below rank 500 face elimination in one month's time."

A chill ran down Cal's spine. Elimination. What does that mean?

Cal pushed himself up, feeling the rush of blood to his extremities, chasing away the remnants of fatigue.

"Set that aside for now. If we get rescued, it may not even matter. We may need to scout for more accessible targets to progress this hunt if that drags on, but we don’t know where the other hunters are or their means. Our pace now has been risky as is, but we are making progress." Cal suggested. “I’m not too worried.”

He reached in his satchel for another energy organ before realizing he had no more.

Cal shifted, body and mind ready, then sprang nimbly from the crook of the tree that had served as his bed. His boots hit the ground soundlessly.

Cal surveyed the terrain. The tracks were there, imprinted in the earth, evidence of the hogs' passage. They were erratic, zigzagging between trees and underbrush. He crouched, fingers skimming the indents left by hooves, reading the story etched into the dirt.

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

"They were searching, but why leave all these tracks," he muttered to himself, the hunter within awakening to the familiar call of the hunt.

Cal stood, a determined glint in his eyes. The tracks led deeper into the forest.

"Cal, alert," Temp's voice sliced through the stillness, urgent but controlled. "Incoming—"

Before Temp could finish, the underbrush erupted with violent force. Flames roared into existence, scorching the air with blistering heat. A colossal hog emerged, its eyes alight with feral intelligence, spitting fire as if forged inside a furnace.

Instinct took hold. Cal rolled to the side, the searing breath of the beast singing the hair on his arm. His heart thundered against his ribcage, a drumbeat of survival. His light body armor melting from contact sticking to his skin. Strangely the burns were not serious.

"The hell!" he gasped, shaking off the embers that clung to his clothes and armor. His melting equipment was a surprise to Cal as his z-series light armor module had a 1450°C melting point. It would be useless now.

"Size and capabilities exceed previous encounters – this is unexpected," Temp analyzed, the AI's tone betraying no surprise.

"Hmmph" Cal grunted, eyes locked on the creature. The realization dawned upon him, cold and unforgiving. The tracks he followed were not left by his prey; they were a trap, a deceitful lure. This time, he was the quarry, the stalked, not the stalker.

A wry smile flickering across his lips despite the peril. The hog loomed larger, its fiery maw agape for another onslaught.

Fire clashed with flesh as Cal darted forward, the heat grazing his skin in a dance of near misses. The hog's breath was a weapon of its own, a natural flamethrower that turned the early morning into day with each fiery expulsion. Cal felt another lick of flames on his arm, the singe less biting than anticipated.

Cal knew this would be a great time to flex his true combat style, but his gun remained useless without a link to his oversoul.

"Focus, Cal. You're not invulnerable," Temp's voice cut in, a reminder that caution was as necessary as courage.

Cal's response was a swift uppercut, a salvaged near miss with his dagger, connecting with the hog's jaw as it reared for another fiery blast. The impact reverberated up his arm, and the beast stumbled, the flames dissipating into angry embers around them.

Cal breathed out, but the hog recovered quickly shaking off the blow with a resilience mirroring his own.

Cal moved, anticipating the next jet of fire. He rolled to the side, the ground where he once stood now scorched earth.

His gaze never left the creature. It was a game of move and countermove, neither yielding, both enduring.

Cal taunted, feinting left before striking right. His fist met hide, and his dagger slashed across skin, the force absorbed by layers of muscle and bristle.

Around Cal and the hog, a swarm of lights began dancing as if matching the dance between man and beast. Slowly and subtly at first, then more excitedly as the battle reached a crescendo. They were like little sparks, unnatural dust. Temp observed and took note of the patterns, and the flow. It was enchanting, and while Cal was preoccupied with his battle, Temp focused on the sparks. The sparks spread around the battlefield and circled the fighting pair and Temp was entranced.

Cal didn’t have an option to pay much attention to this new development. The fight made him feel grounded to the world; it pushed the limits of his body and his mind.

Both Cal and the hog were matched in pitched battle and neither had time to worry about any third party.

The hog retaliated against one of Cal’s gambits, tusks sweeping in a vicious arc, using its fire breath to limit Cal’s options. Cal leaped back, feeling the rush of air as death passed inches from his flesh. The forest floor bore the scars of their conflict, a testament to their deadlock.

Eyes locked, Cal and the fire hog assessed their battered forms. The beast's breath came in heated gusts, its flanks heaving. Cal flexed his fingers, feeling the heat from his singed and melting clothing.

They had reached an impasse, the silent understanding between predator and prey that further violence held too much risk. They would both die, perhaps one before the other, but it would be pyrrhic.

Neither wanted to step back first in fear of leaving an opening, but both knew that there was no good outcome to this battle. The aethereal sparks slowly faded from view and Temp snapped out of his analysis.

A second hog came careening down the hill acting as an opportune distraction and Cal took the chance to step backward into the shadows. The hog's ember-lit eyes feigned distraction, but narrowed and followed suit, increasing the distance between them. No words were exchanged, no truce formally declared, yet an accord was struck with each cautious retreat.

Cal fled, senses alert for pursuit, but the hog remained, its fiery gaze cautious as well, but making no move to attack. He slipped into the underbrush, fading from sight, his escape unchallenged.

As he navigated the charred remnants of nearby forest, Cal replayed the encounter in his mind. The hog hadn't been just another mindless beast; it had calculated, judged. It chose survival over slaughter, recognizing the cost of victory would be steep for them both.

Cal felt the battle had unlocked something for him, but he could not understand what. He just knew that it would make him stronger.

[Quest: Revenge! Defeat the direhog matriarch! (0/1)]

"Smart...too smart. I guess those hogs are called direhogs." Cal whispered, a grudging respect tugging at him. He touched a tender spot on his arm, expecting agony, finding only a dull throb. He should have been more injured, the odds had been against him. “I don’t think we can complete this quest as I am.”

"The battle indicated that this beast had emerging sentience." Temp chimed in, confirming the unspoken truth.

"Seems so." Cal winced as the adrenaline faded, revealing aches previously masked. He'd escaped, but not unscathed.

“Temp did you pick up anything else from the battle?” Cal had already started on his way back to the room and obfuscated his return to hide his shelter.

"Your wisdom stat," Temp's voice cut through the still air, "it is abnormally high." Cal considering the AI's assessment. He flexed his arm, feeling that resistance to the fire was the only thing saving him from being burned alive. “Wisdom likely corresponds to some sort of resistance to the elements.”

Temp continued, "but careful management of your stats will be crucial. There may be limits you have yet to encounter."

"Limits?" Cal frowned, the word rolling off his tongue like an unfamiliar taste.

"Consider the data. My analysis suggests a cap—a stat limit. At level fifty, you should max out at 350 based on my own attribute growth." Temp's tone carried some urgency.

Nodding to himself, Cal resumed his trek, each step bringing him closer to the safety of four walls. With movements mechanical from routine, he secured the perimeter, his instincts not fully at rest. Inside the camp, he dropped his pack with a thud and began the methodical process of inventory.

Cal considered his new normal. He was isolated and an unknown distance from home, but he had seen explosive growth that was inconceivable on New Earth. Despite the desire to return, he felt the need to push his limits, so he could return unafraid, and most importantly, so he could survive this new world.

The door creaked open, a familiar sound. Inside, Cal once more closed the door and used Temp as a weak barrier to entry—he let out a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world. His eyes swept over the room, taking in the empty room yet meager comfort on this alien world.