Kline and I ran into another beast on the way to the shalk cave. It was easier to say that Kline did. He bit my jeans and pulled before it happened, forcing me to stop. When I tried to ask what was going on, he put his paw to his mouth, stunning me stiff.

Then he disappeared like the Cheshire cat and slunk away, only visible by a vague outline of shimmering glass and the rustle of ground cover. In the blink of an eye, he was gone, leaving me all alone in the Areswood Forest.

Ten minutes feels like an eternity when you’re alone in a dangerous place, listening to nothing but the sound of bugs and your heartbeat. Your mind starts playing tricks on you. It starts with a minor concern, a question of whether you should check up on him. Soon, you convince yourself that they’re dead and begin imagining the beast that killed them. You think about that beast killing you, too, and dying alone in this dark and dangerous place—bleeding out alone. Once you get into that train of thought, all the excitement you had built up quickly disappears, leaving you with nothing but fear and anxiety.

Suddenly, a piercing streak cut through the atmosphere, causing the bugs to switch their melody. Trees thrashed around, branches broke, and a beast let out a wild cry that reverberated through the forest. It was followed by the sound of thunder and a series of boom, Boom, BOOMs! as trees cracked and started falling.

I wanted to scream and run to Kline—to help. But I knew that I’d only get in the way. I needed strength. I needed to get stronger.

Kline…

Five agonizing minutes passed, filled with shrieks and crashes, before the creature let out a depleted cry, and the forest fell still.

I held my breath.

I waited for Kline to get me—but he didn’t come. Then, I felt a deep pang of anxiety and fear that was unlike the other types I had experienced—a flavor that came with adrenaline.

Kline… I thought again, but it had another tone.

It was crystal clear that Kline won by the shrieks—so why didn’t he return? Kline could understand me, so he knew that was what I was waiting for. He’d want to protect me. So why? Why—why, why-why-why-why-why?

Without thinking, I began walking toward the area with the commotion. As I moved, I began jogging. By the time I made it to the clearing, I was in a full sprint.

When I got there, I froze. There was a massive white beast the size of a moose with large serrated antlers, bleeding profusely from its spine. Beyond that, it was only scratched at most.

Beyond it was Kline—trying and failing to push himself up.

“Kline!” I cried, using one of those whispers that also conveyed a scream. I rushed over to him. His leg was broken, and his chest was ripped open. “Hang in there…”

I unzipped my backpack and pulled out the Elindora Balm that I earned after the wandering reaper quest. I didn’t know what it would do, but I unscrewed the lid and dipped my fingers into it. It tingled like Tiger Balm or Icy Hot, and I imagined the pain it would cause him—but still. He needed it!

“We’ll create a splint soon,” I promised, tears streaming from my eyes. “We’re just stopping the bleeding, kay?”

He nodded, and I applied it to the wound, expecting the bleeding to stop. What happened defied my expectations. The entire leg mended—including the bone. It probably only had a minor break, but it was still beyond comprehension.

I watched with my lips parted as Kline stood, testing his leg, bending and stretching in confusion. Then he looked up with these big, blubbery eyes.

“Oh, come here!” I cried as he jumped into my arms. We had an emotional moment. Then, once it was over, I identified the beast. It was called a “traksa,” but I was just gonna call it the albino elk.

“We should probably take its meat back to the barrier,” I suggested. We didn’t have the time, considering that I was on the fourth day of the trial, and I still had to create the elixir and establish a core before moving on. Still, that meat was power—and I needed that more than anything.

Kline nodded.

“Eat some first,” I said.

This was a much-needed level-up that could be the difference between life and death, so I wanted Kline to get the most out of it.

Thankfully, I didn’t need to tell him twice. He used Phantom Claws to tear right into its shoulder and smashed his face into the gash like a savage, taking a bloody bite that would have traumatized me a few days ago. But I had experienced so much terrifying shit in the last few days that it didn’t faze me. I didn’t have the emotional capacity to let it faze me. But I knew I’d probably have a panic attack after breaking the lead on my pencil.

I chuckled sardonically at that grim thought, but it quickly ended when Kline hit the ground, yowling and writhing around.

“Kline!” I cried, grabbing him. I checked him and found his eyes flashing with golden light before he turned over in my arms, taking shallow breaths. Two minutes later, he stood and looked around like he was high on crack, staring at everything like he had noticed it for the first time.

“You okay?” I asked.

Kline nodded, looked at the beast like it was a worm, and thrust his paw at it. Five invisible slashes cut through the hide as if it were easy. Then he slashed, cut, and bit the beast, pulling out chunks of meat and offering it to me. I didn’t question it. I immediately started packaging the meat in preservation containers from the alchemy station.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Once we finished, he brought me a chunk of bloody white fur that was from the beast’s back.

“... Thanks,” I said hesitantly, accepting his “gift.” Yet I froze when I grabbed it and realized that there was a turquoise gemstone the size of a rock inside. It was at least five times larger than the green reiga ones he had been bringing me. “Wow…”

Kline sauntered off as I put it in the bag I was holding the spinal stones in. Then I looked at the beast.

“Hand me a leg,” I said. “I’ll carry it back.”

Kline looked at me as if I were crazy, but I flexed my bicep. “I’m stronger now.”

He blinked twice and shrugged, cutting off its leg at the shoulder. It must’ve weighed at least two hundred pounds, but I hefted it onto my shoulder like a sack of flour that was filled with confectioner’s sugar.

“See?” I asked.

Kline smirked and strutted off toward the camp.

“What was that for?” I asked. He didn’t answer. “Hey!” I yelled as I followed him, but he didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. Twenty minutes later, I was moving the leg from shoulder to shoulder, juggling it with the aphrodisiac jug, sweating like a twice-baked swine without mud. It was a joke.

But I made it somehow. An hour later, I was lying on the ground within the barrier, feeling like my arms would fall off. It took me 20 minutes to get up after that, but I finally forced myself to eat some meat, drink water, and start cooking some of the meat we just got. It probably wouldn’t cook before I got back—but it was a start.

Once I finished, I rubbed a tiny amount of balm on my legs to restore them to their best, and we started hiking again.

It would be a long day.

2.

Elana watched Mira return to the cave with Kori, the Blinding Archer who owned Nymbrel; Telgan, a dryad who was in her smallest form, sitting on a bonsai tree; and Hapsel, a hideous orc who claimed to be a poison master. Elana hated him like all other poison masters. They were crude, sadistic beasts, and she was determined to beat the love of poisons right out of her new pupil.

Kori wasn’t part of Mira’s class, so the tiefling kicked his grungy hunter boots on her porcelain table to watch the show leisurely. His purple skin popped against the white walls, and his unfiled horns described his personality quite well.

Telgan was just as nonchalant. The tiny dryad was sitting on a bonsai tree’s limb, watching apathetically. She only offered Mira her legacy to keep other people from trying to exploit the forest. That said, the Areswood destroyed people—not the other way around. So, it wasn’t a pressing concern.

Only Hapsel was focused on the screen. The orc’s body was trembling as he gripped his tusks like a savage, tapping his foot—on the precipice of exploding.

“Is there something wrong, Hapsel?” Elana mused.

“What do you mean, ‘Is there something wrong?’” Hapsel mocked. “That girl’s huggin’ self-made poisons, but you forced her into a suicide mission over some fancy elixir.”

Mira was holding her jar of poison against her breast as she approached the cave. She clearly loved poisons—but Hapsel couldn’t give her a quest because Mira hadn’t created a poison or made a declaration to make one for a specific task before she had already agreed to be bound by Elana’s. That’s why he was pissed.

“That fancy elixir is going to double her power,” Elana scoffed. “What’s your petty poison gonna do for someone who can’t even fire a bow?”

“Why are you fighting about it?” Kori asked dryly. “You just sent ‘er to a shalk den. It’s all over.”

Hapsel frowned and nodded gravely. “Yeah. She’s clever as hell, but I can’t see ‘er comin’ out of this one. It’s downright cruel.”

Elana frowned. “It’s the least the Oracle would accept.” Legacy quests required sufficient difficulty to prove neophytes were genuinely talented. That way, gods couldn’t snipe candidates just to obtain resources—like the gods were currently doing.

Hapsel watched Mira hug the jug of water with a complex expression. “At least she’s got one fucked up mind. That’s the only thing that could save ‘er.”

Suddenly, a shalk jumped out of a bush, and Elana’s heart pulsed. She thought the shalks would swarm—but Kline warp-stepped and clawed the beast’s head off in one swipe, then triggered Active Camouflage, disappearing into the forest.

“But that cat, though…” Kori said.

“Yeah,” Telgan said.

Elana nodded. The shalks were almost as big as Kline was, but he was clawing through them like butter. It was clear that he got a blessing before his evolution—which was rare. That was a good thing. Mira would become strong after taking the Awakening Elixir—but she was currently worthless without her tactics and poisons. So Elana prayed that Kline would get her between here and there. If he did, Mira’s future would be bright.

3.

Okay, my plan was a terrible idea. I got that I was on a timetable, and I wanted to win and all that, but to be honest, I was fairly certain I was about to die.

Correction: accepting this legacy was a terrible idea—my plan fucking rocked.

First off, we weren’t defenseless. Kline and I were a team—and he had power to protect us. He was currently warp-stepping between shalks patrolling the area, killing them as I pointed out poisonous plants—which he picked up almost telepathically. Kline had also activated Wraithaura, silencing my steps as well, and I covered us in jostle root—so the beasts couldn’t smell us. We were prepared. Lastly, I came with tactics and poisons capable of shalk genocide.

That’s where things got really interesting. Before I explain, try not to judge me. It wasn’t pretty, but it wasn’t bad, either. Okay… so it was kinda, sorta, seriously fucked up, and I should admit that—but let me start by reminding you what this quest required of us.

To get that flower, we had to kill a swarm of Kline-size creatures without distorting or shaking the environment. That meant bombs, elemental magic, and ranged attacks were out of the question. That meant our only real option was poison—and it would require creativity.

It was nearly impossible. With that in mind, let me explain what I did.

First, I created an aphrodisiac that would turn every one of these creatures into a depraved sex fiend. Soon, they would all be bound in heat, and there would be a massive orgy, which would attract normal shalks as well—because primal instinct. At the very least, it would be confusing and disorienting, keeping many out of the picture. It was valuable on its own—but that was just the start.

The shalks' bodies would quickly overheat from increased circulation and passionate sex, causing them to sweat profusely—and become severely dehydrated. That’s when I would send them water spiked with tasteless poison.

It was a brilliant plan, but it had one problem—froxim weed smells like battery acid. That’s why I mixed in jostle root sap to remove the smell—and would hit them with it all at once.

I’d start by splashing them with water. Then, I would throw exploding shenai fruits slathered in poison to send the poison far and wide. That would get it on their fur, and they’d immediately start grooming themselves and others to get it off. Others would drink the spiked water to stave off dehydration—and some would spread the poison through other means. It would be a decadent and depraved party that they would never forget—

And then the red death would hold sway over all.

That was the plan—distract, poison, and pick them off. It was time to get started.