《Reincarnated as a Rune Crafter!》 1. The Last Normal Morning and the First Strange Dawn
Gale Harper woke to the insistent buzz of his phone, a cheap model with a cracked screen that vibrated against the warped wood of his nightstand. The sound drilled into his skull, sharp and grating, like a dentist¡¯s tool on a nerve. He squinted at the glowing digits¡ª6:45 a.m.¡ªand let out a low groan, rattling deep in his throat, half protest, half surrender. His arm flopped out from under the thin, scratchy blanket, fumbling until his fingers silenced the alarm. Quiet settled, heavy and fleeting, though he knew it¡¯d shatter again in nine minutes¡ªsame as every weekday for three years. He lay there, staring at the ceiling of his one-bedroom apartment. A water stain bloomed in the corner, brown and splotchy, vaguely heart-shaped. Peeling plaster curled away in brittle flakes, dusting the scratched dresser below. The air carried a faint whiff of mildew and yesterday¡¯s takeout¡ªgreasy noodles he¡¯d eaten cold because the microwave was busted again. Gale rubbed his eyes, gritty with sleep, and swung his legs over the bed¡¯s edge. The mattress creaked, springs whining under his six-foot frame, lean but soft from too many late-night snacks and not enough effort. His socks slid against the cold linoleum¡ªone blue with a faded stripe, the other gray with a hole where his big toe poked through. The floor stuck in spots¡ªspilled coffee he hadn¡¯t cleaned¡ªand the flickering fluorescent buzzed faintly, casting a sickly yellow glow. He reached for the coffee maker, a dented thrift-store find, hissing as he poured water from a chipped pitcher. Grounds followed, scooped from a canister with a loose lid, releasing an earthy scent that cut through the staleness. Coffee dripped slow and dark into a mug¡ª¡°World¡¯s Okayest Employee¡± in chipped red letters, a gag gift from a coworker he barely tolerated. Toast came next¡ªhe jiggled the cord of a squat, silver toaster until it ticked to life, popping in the last slice of a stale loaf. The kitchen smelled of burnt crumbs and brewing bitterness. He smeared the toast with the final scrapings of peanut butter, the knife clinking against the jar¡ªdry, nutty, slightly stale. Leaning against the counter, mug cradled in both hands, warmth seeped into his palms. Steam brushed his face, fogging his glasses briefly before he wiped them on his sleeve. His phone lit up¡ªgas prices climbing again. He scrolled past headlines and a tax-form cat meme, the clock stuttering to 7:05¡ªtwenty minutes until Grayson & Sons, eight hours of spreadsheets in a cubicle reeking of burnt popcorn. He finished his toast, crumbs dusting the counter, and drained the coffee, bitter dregs coating his tongue. Rinsing the mug, cold water left a sheen on the ceramic¡ªhis reflection showed hazel eyes, bloodshot, framed by messy brown hair needing a trim, stubble shadowing his jaw from laziness. Another thrilling day in paradise, he thought, sarcasm thick as he turned away. Dressing was slow¡ªa wrinkled button-up, light blue with a faint cuff stain, jeans faded at the knees, sneakers with fraying laces. His backpack held keys jingling on a worn keychain, a thin wallet, a whirring laptop. Earbuds¡ªwhite, one side crackling¡ªhummed lo-fi beats as he slung the bag over his shoulder, the strap digging in. The apartment door clicked shut, lock sticking until he jiggled the key. The hallway smelled of stale cigarette smoke from Mrs. Delaney downstairs, carpet crunching with a sour tang of cheap air freshener. Three flights of stairs¡ªmetal railing cold and slick¡ªled to the street, where the city woke with honks and sirens. Outside, autumn air bit his cheeks, crisp with exhaust and wet leaves. Cars hissed on damp asphalt, headlights cutting the gray dawn. He walked three blocks to the crosswalk, breath puffing in clouds, lo-fi dulling shouts and bus whines. At 7:23, the light blinked red¡ªhe waited, sneakers scuffing cracked pavement, a pigeon pecking a soggy fry nearby. Green flashed, a sharp beep cutting through, and he stepped off¡ªfive steps, six, bass dropping¡ªthen the world erupted. He didn¡¯t hear the truck¡ªa 19-year-old driver, texting about a late package, blew the red. The grille loomed, silver and relentless¡ªa split-second flash¡ªtires screeched, muffled by earbuds, a honk too late. Metal crushed flesh, a bone-shattering crunch swallowing the beat. Pain flared¡ªwhite-hot, everywhere, a scream trapped¡ªthen black, cold, absolute.
Gale didn¡¯t expect to wake¡ªnot like this. Awareness crept back, a tingling itch across a body he couldn¡¯t feel. He floated in a vast void¡ªendless shadow streaked with glowing lines, pulsing like cracks in reality. No ground, no sky¡ªjust cold, silent emptiness pressing in. His chest tightened¡ªor would have. ¡°Hello?¡± he called, voice thin, echoing. ¡°Anyone? What is this?¡± The lines flared, converging into a figure¡ªtall, lean, cloaked in rippling shadow. Glyphs writhed across it¡ªcircles, slashes, hooks¡ªlike living tattoos. A hood hid its face, save for golden eyes glinting like coins. It crossed its arms, smirking invisibly. ¡°Well, well, well,¡± it drawled, rhythmic and mocking. ¡°Look who finally dragged his sorry ass in. Took you long enough, Earth-boy. I was about to send a tow truck¡ªoh, wait, too late for that.¡± Gale grasped at memory¡ªthe crosswalk, the blur. ¡°Who are you? Where am I? Am I¡­ dead?¡± The figure snorted, gravelly. ¡°Dead? Buddy, you¡¯re a smear on 5th Street¡ªtruck turned you into modern art¡ªsplat, crunch, finito. Should¡¯ve dodged, but you were vibing too hard.¡± It mimed earbuds, eyes glinting. Gale¡¯s voice rose. ¡°A truck? And you¡¯re laughing?¡± ¡°Savoring the poetry,¡± it said, glyphs spelling ¡°KAPOW¡± before fizzing out. ¡°Not random, Gale Harper¡ªthat was me setting the stage. I¡¯m Runicar, God of Runes, one of the Centum Divinae. Congrats, you¡¯re my pick.¡± ¡°You killed me?¡± Gale¡¯s thoughts spun. ¡°On purpose?¡± ¡°¡®Killed¡¯ is dramatic¡ªI relocated your soul with flair. You¡¯re welcome¡ªEarth was a snooze. Here¡¯s the gig: every thousand years, me and my ninety-nine pals grab a hundred souls. You¡¯re an Aspirant¡ªget strong, master my power, ascend to godhood. One catch¡ªninety-nine others are in the race, each with a godly hype-man. One winner per cycle.¡± ¡°A competition?¡± Gale stammered. ¡°And you¡¯re my sponsor?¡± ¡°Bingo!¡± Runicar clapped, glyphs flashing ¡°SMART GUY.¡± ¡°I¡¯m giving you rune crafting¡ªscribble magic words, make stuff happen. Fuel¡¯s energy crystals¡ªmagic, feelings, dead beasties. You¡¯ll be a spell nerd if you don¡¯t flop.¡± ¡°I¡¯m an accountant! Why me?¡± ¡°Coin flip, boredom¡ªdoesn¡¯t matter.¡± Runicar raised a hand, and Gale¡¯s arm tingled, a rune coiling across his phantom skin¡ªhis Divine Sigil, glowing faintly. ¡°My mark¡ªdon¡¯t embarrass me.¡± Gale stared at it. ¡°Magic with this? Then what?¡± ¡°Fight eventually,¡± Runicar shrugged. ¡°They¡¯re scattered across Terestria¡ªfar apart at first. Kill stuff, level up, hit the Trial of Ascension¡ªpass, duel a god, maybe me, take their spot. Fail, live long, die old¡ªone winner per thousand years.¡± ¡°What if I say no?¡± Runicar laughed, glyphs spelling ¡°LOL.¡± ¡°No? Truck¡¯s hit, soul¡¯s mine¡ªascend or bust. Don¡¯t suck¡ªI¡¯ve got a rep.¡± The void shook, Runicar waving as lines spiraled into a vortex. ¡°Time¡¯s up¡ªwrite your destiny or let some punk do it. Tutorial¡¯s coming, so don¡¯t zone out, genius.¡± ¡°Wait¡ª!¡± Light engulfed Gale, and he fell, slamming into something solid.
He gasped, air flooding new lungs, sharp and cold. His eyes snapped open to a gray sky, wispy clouds drifting over a shallow valley. Cold stone pressed against his back, gritty with dew¡ªancient slabs ringed him, etched with humming runes, their buzz tingling his skin. His body felt different¡ªalive, healthy, human but reborn¡ªno creaky knees, no faint wheeze, just lean muscle and steady breath. He sat up, running hands over his arms¡ªfirm, smooth, no flab¡ªEXP at 0/100, a blank slate. A window flickered, hovering like a hologram: [Welcome, Aspirant Gale Harper. Divine Sponsor: Runicar, God of Runes. Tutorial Initiated.] Runicar¡¯s voice crackled through, smug as ever. ¡°Rise and shine, newbie! Ditched your sad Earth bod for a shiny new one¡ªhealthy, human, no refunds. You¡¯re a blank slate, but you¡¯ll beef up fast. Say ¡®Open Status¡¯¡ªdon¡¯t mumble, I hate that.¡± Gale swallowed, voice steady in his new throat. ¡°Open Status.¡± A glowing blue window appeared: [Status: Gale Harper] ¡°Stats?¡± Gale thought, scanning the list¡ªEXP at 0, a game¡¯s beginning. Runicar chuckled. ¡°Level 1¡ªtotal scrub¡ªkill stuff, do quests, level up¡ª100 for the first rung, scales after. Each level gives 5 points¡ªStrength for muscle, Endurance for grit, Dexterity for finesse, Agility for zip, Vitality for not croaking, Wisdom for smarts, Focus for your crystal gig, Intelligence for brainiac stuff, Charisma for sweet-talking, Appearance for pretty-boy vibes, Luck for dice rolls. Your body shifts¡ªbulk up with Strength, glow with Appearance¡ªdistribute those 5 points, say ¡®Assign¡¯ and pick.¡± Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. Gale frowned, flexing his hands¡ªnew, calloused but firm. ¡°Assign¡ª2 to Focus, 1 to Endurance, 1 to Dexterity, 1 to Vitality.¡± The window updated: A rush tingled through him¡ªbreath deepened, fingers nimbler, mind clearer. ¡°Holy crap,¡± he breathed¡ªEXP still 0/100. ¡°Neat trick, huh?¡± Runicar chuckled. ¡°Next, your starter: Crystal Manifestation¡ªenergy crystals fuel runes, pop up in Terestria¡¯s high-mana zones, guarded by nasties that¡¯d chew you up. Lucky you, I gave you a shortcut¡ªspend Energy to pull ambient magic into crystals, Focus cuts cost, boosts yield¡ªtry it, say ¡®Manifest Crystal.¡¯¡± Gale glanced at his Energy¡ª50/60. ¡°Manifest Crystal.¡± The Sigil flared, a warm pulse up his arm¡ªEnergy dropped to 45, a tiny crystal shimmering into being, clear and pulsing. ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± he asked, skeptical. ¡°Don¡¯t whine, it¡¯s Rank 1¡ªlevel it, pump Focus, churn out bigger ones,¡± Runicar snapped. ¡°Last step: skill¡ªRune Etching¡¯s yours, 10% faster scribbling¡ªor Basic Combat, less sucking with that dagger¡ªsay ¡®Select¡¯ and choose.¡± Gale eyed the rusty dagger nearby. ¡°Select Rune Etching.¡± [Skill Selected: Rune Etching (Rank 1) - 10% more accurate rune crafting] ¡°Not the dumbest pick,¡± Runicar said. ¡°Tutorial¡¯s over¡ªdagger, crystal, half a brain¡ªuse ¡®em. Ninety-nine others are out there¡ªmove it.¡± The windows vanished, leaving Gale alone, EXP at 0/100, Energy at 45/60¡ªTerestria¡¯s hills loomed, 99 rivals waited. He gripped the dagger, muttering, ¡°Write my destiny¡ªjackass.¡± The wind whistled, hills looming afar. Ninety-nine rivals waited. Gale exhaled, gripping the dagger. ¡°Guess I¡¯m in it now.¡±
Gale sat on the cold stone slab, the dagger resting across his knees, its chipped blade catching the faint light of the overcast sky. The valley stretched around him, a shallow bowl of gray-green grass and weathered rock, bordered by ancient slabs that loomed like silent sentinels. Their surfaces bore runes¡ªfaint, eroded carvings that hummed with a low, resonant buzz, tickling the air against his skin. The wind carried a sharp, earthy scent¡ªdamp soil and distant pine¡ªwhistling softly through the gaps between the stones. His new body felt foreign yet alive, every breath deep and steady, every muscle taut with untested potential. The Divine Sigil on his forearm glowed faintly beneath his sleeve, a coiled glyph pulsing like a second heartbeat. The translucent windows had vanished, Runicar¡¯s smug voice fading into memory, leaving Gale alone with the dagger, the tiny energy crystal hovering an inch above the stone, and a mind buzzing with more questions than answers. He stared at the crystal¡ªclear, no bigger than a grape, its surface shimmering with a soft, inner light. It bobbed gently, as if caught in an invisible current, a tangible piece of the madness he¡¯d been thrust into. ¡°Write my destiny,¡± he muttered, echoing Runicar¡¯s parting shot. ¡°Yeah, sure. Jackass didn¡¯t even say how.¡± He reached out, fingers brushing the crystal¡¯s smooth edge. It was cool, solid yet weightless, and settled into his palm with a faint tingle, like static on a winter day. Gale turned it over, inspecting it closely¡ªanalytical by habit, a holdover from spotting discrepancies in spreadsheets at Grayson & Sons. It was something, at least. Fuel, Runicar had called it, for rune crafting¡ªwhatever that meant. He glanced at the dagger, its rust-pocked steel dull but sturdy. If he was stuck here¡ªand he was, truck-splat and all¡ªhe¡¯d need to figure this out. Not because he wanted to play god-games, but because doing nothing wasn¡¯t an option. Not with ninety-nine others out there, each with their own edge. Gale exhaled, slow and deliberate, letting the wind¡¯s chill ground him. Back home, he¡¯d been a junior accountant, a cog in a machine that didn¡¯t care. But he¡¯d always been cleverer than the job let on¡ªcatching errors in budgets no one else noticed, tweaking formulas to save time, outsmarting the system quietly. It never got him anywhere there. Here, though, it might. Here, he¡¯d make it count. ¡°Okay,¡± he said, voice low but firm, determination flickering to life. ¡°Step one: don¡¯t die again. Step two: crack this system.¡± He tapped the dagger against the stone, a soft clink echoing in the quiet. The Sigil warmed, a subtle nudge, but Runicar¡¯s tutorial had been light on details¡ªcrystals, runes, stats, no real how-to. Gale¡¯s brow furrowed, analytical gears turning. He needed more than vague taunts. The status menu had popped up before¡ªmaybe it held answers. ¡°Open Status,¡± he said, testing it again. The familiar window flickered into view: [Status: Gale Harper] The numbers glowed, a framework he could shape. ¡°Not bad for a dead guy,¡± he murmured, but his eyes lingered on the bottom¡ªAbilities, Skills. Crystal Manifestation he¡¯d used, draining Energy to make that pebble-sized crystal. Rune Etching promised faster crafting, but how did he craft? Runicar had said ¡°scribble magic words,¡± but which words? How? The Sigil pulsed, as if mocking his confusion. Gale tilted his head, scanning the window¡¯s edges. A faint tab glowed in the corner¡ªthree horizontal lines, like a menu icon. ¡°Huh,¡± he said, cleverness sparking. ¡°More options?¡± He focused on it, willing it to expand, and it did, unfolding into a sidebar: [Menu Options] ¡°Rune Lexicon?¡± Gale said aloud, intrigued. He focused on it, and a new window slid open: [Rune Lexicon] Gale¡¯s lips twitched into a faint smile. ¡°Okay, that¡¯s something.¡± A dictionary of magic words, each tied to a rune he could etch. He tested it mentally¡ªsharp¡ªand a jagged spiral glyph flashed in his mind: [?]. ¡°So I¡¯ve got a toolbox,¡± he said, filing it away. ¡°But how do I use it?¡± The Lexicon hinted at combining words, but the mechanics were still fuzzy. He¡¯d need to test it, hypothesize, refine¡ªanalytical to the core. He switched to the next tab. ¡°Ascension Guide,¡± he said, and another window appeared: [Ascension Guide] Gale leaned back, processing. ¡°No max level,¡± he murmured, ¡°but 100¡¯s the gate.¡± A hundred levels to climb¡ªdaunting, but not impossible. EXP from fighting, quests, crafting¡ªhe could work with that. His cleverness flared: crafting might be his edge, safer than brawling monsters he wasn¡¯t ready for. The timer¡ªnearly a millennium¡ªmeant no rush, but ninety-nine rivals meant competition. One would hit 100 first, and he¡¯d need to be ready. He dismissed the windows, mind buzzing. The Lexicon gave him words, the Guide gave him goals. Now, the dagger. He held the crystal against its blade, near the hilt, and hesitated. ¡°Let¡¯s see what happens,¡± he said, determination steadying his voice. The Sigil warmed, and he focused, picturing cut [?] and sharp [?] from the Lexicon. ¡°Cut Sharp,¡± he said, tentative. The Sigil flared, heat surging up his arm, and a glow traced his fingertips. His hand moved¡ªclumsy at first, Dexterity at 6 steadying it¡ªand scratched two runes into the steel. Cut emerged as a jagged slash with a hooked tail, Sharp as a pointed spiral. The crystal pulsed, then dissolved into motes of light, sinking into the runes. A soft crack sounded, and the blade shimmered, its edge gleaming sharper. Gale blinked, testing it against the stone. It scraped a thin line, deeper than the rust should¡¯ve allowed. ¡°Well, damn,¡± he said, a spark of satisfaction flickering. He didn¡¯t know the full system¡ªtrial and error had worked¡ªbut he¡¯d cracked the basics. Cleverness paid off, and he¡¯d refine it further. ¡°Manifest Crystal,¡± he said, curious. Energy dipped to 40, and another tiny crystal formed. The valley¡¯s magic was thin¡ªnot a ¡°high-mana zone¡± with natural crystals and monsters he couldn¡¯t face. His ability was his lifeline, tied to Focus and Energy. He pocketed the crystal, its glow dimming in his jeans¡ªEarth clothes, somehow still with him. The valley felt quieter now, the wind sharper. No birds, just the slabs¡¯ hum and distant hills. Gale stood, stretching his new legs, feeling their subtle strength. Ninety-nine others were out there, each with their own gods. He wasn¡¯t a fighter¡ªnot yet¡ªbut he¡¯d outthink them. Determination hardened: he wouldn¡¯t lose to this world. ¡°Level 100¡¯s the first hurdle,¡± he said, gripping the dagger. ¡°One step at a time.¡± A trampled grass trail wound east toward the hills¡ªa path, maybe to answers. He paused by a slab, tracing its ancient rune¡ªa coiled loop, unfamiliar. ¡°Something to decode later,¡± he murmured, analytical mind ticking. With dagger in hand and crystal in pocket, Gale started down the trail, wind at his back. 2. Shadows in the Sunlight
The trail stretched ahead, a faint ribbon of trampled grass threading through a wild expanse of gray-green plains. Gale walked steadily, the chipped dagger gripped in his right hand, its newly etched runes¡ªCut [?] and Sharp [?]¡ªgleaming faintly under a sky thick with wispy clouds. A brisk wind tugged at his wrinkled button-up, the light blue fabric rippling against his chest, carrying a crisp bite that prickled his exposed forearms and chapped his lips. His sneakers¡ªworn from Earth, laces fraying¡ªcrunched softly on the uneven ground, kicking up faint puffs of dust that mingled with the sharp, green scent of crushed blades. Beyond the swaying grass, dark hills rose, their slopes cloaked in a patchy quilt of pine and thorny scrub, needles glinting like emeralds against the muted browns of brittle twigs. The sun hung high, a pale disc veiled by the cloud-strewn canopy, casting long, thin shadows from scattered boulders¡ªgray hulks crusted with pale lichen, their surfaces pitted and smoothed by centuries of wind and rain. A subtle hum thrummed through the air, an undercurrent of energy that stirred the Divine Sigil on his forearm with a gentle, persistent warmth, like a coal buried under ash. His stomach growled, a low rumble that twisted his gut into a tight knot, and his throat rasped dry, the taste of dust lingering on his tongue. Water and food¡ªhe needed both, soon. The open plains had offered nothing but whispering grass and stone, and this new body, strong as it felt, wouldn¡¯t run on willpower alone. The trail dipped gently, the ground sloping into a shallow hollow where stunted trees clustered¡ªgnarled oaks with bark like cracked leather, twisted hawthorns clutching a few stubborn, yellowing leaves that rattled in the breeze. A thin stream wound through the basin¡¯s heart, its surface a ribbon of silver catching the midday light, gurgling over a bed of smooth, glinting pebbles. The sound rose above the wind¡¯s soft howl, a musical trickle that promised relief. Gale eased down the incline, gravel skittering under his sneakers, the faint clatter swallowed by the rustling leaves overhead. Up close, the water ran shallow¡ªbarely enough to wet his soles¡ªbut clear, flecked with tiny stones that shimmered like polished glass in the current. He knelt, setting the dagger on a flat rock beside him, its blade scraping the surface with a faint scritch. Cupping his hands, he scooped the stream¡¯s offering¡ªcold, sharp with a mineral bite that stung his palms¡ªand brought it to his lips. The chill slid down his throat, soothing the dryness, leaving a clean, metallic aftertaste. He drank again, deeper this time, then splashed his face, droplets clinging to his messy brown hair and running down his stubbled jaw. The water rippled, reflecting a stranger¡¯s face¡ªhazel eyes sharper without glasses, a leaner frame than the one he¡¯d left smeared on a crosswalk. ¡°New me,¡± he muttered, a half-smirk tugging his lips as he shook the dampness from his fingers. His stomach growled louder, a nagging ache that clawed at his focus. Water quenched one need, but food loomed larger now. The stream offered no easy bounty¡ªno plump fish darted in its shallows, just a flicker of minnows too small to chase. The trees stood barren, their branches empty of fruit or nests. ¡°Gonna have to get creative,¡± he said, voice low, wiping his hands on his jeans¡ªfaded at the knees, still clinging to Earth¡¯s dust. The trail stretched onward, promising something¡ªpeople, game, anything¡ªbut his gut demanded answers now. He straightened, snatching the dagger, and froze. A new scent cut through the clean dampness of the stream¡ªsmoky, rich, the unmistakable tang of roasting meat. His nose twitched, stomach clenching with sudden, ravenous hunger. The breeze carried it from the hollow¡¯s northern rim, where a faint wisp of gray curled above the skeletal branches, twisting into the sky like a beckoning finger. ¡°Someone¡¯s cooking,¡± he whispered, grip tightening on the dagger¡¯s hilt. People might mean food, maybe allies¡ªor trouble. Ninety-nine rivals lingered in his thoughts, but Runicar¡¯s words echoed¡ªthey were far apart. This could be locals, or something stranger. Gale crept forward, keeping low, sneakers pressing silently into the soft earth. The trees thinned, their gnarled limbs parting to reveal a clearing¡ªa rough circle of trampled dirt framed by a low ridge of rocks, a smoldering fire pit at its heart. Three figures sprawled around it, and his breath hitched as a translucent window flickered into view: [Enemy Identified: Kobold Scout]
  • Level: 2
  • Health: 30/30
  • Description: Small, reptilian humanoids with nocturnal habits. Weak alone, dangerous in packs. Known for ambush tactics and crude weaponry.
Kobolds. His pulse quickened, mind racing. Three of them, higher level than him, but the daylight dulled their edge¡ªnocturnal, caught out of their element. Up close, they were grotesque, nightmarish despite their size. Barely three feet tall, their sinewy frames were sheathed in mottled, greenish-gray scales that glistened like a festering wound, slick with a sheen that caught the sun. Wedge-shaped heads jutted with snouts full of jagged, yellowed teeth¡ªcrooked and sharp, protruding past thin, cracked lips. Beady red eyes squinted against the glare, pupils slitted like venomous serpents, half-blind in the brightness. Clawed hands, tipped with black talons, clutched makeshift spears¡ªsharpened sticks lashed with flint points, stained with old blood and crusted gore. One gripped a crude longsword, its blade nicked and broad, dragging in the dirt¡ªtoo large for its wiry arm, a weapon meant for bigger hands. Tufts of coarse black hair sprouted from their scalps, matted with grime and flecks of dried flesh, and whip-like tails lashed lazily, stirring the dust with faint, dry scrapes. The fire crackled, a skewered rabbit roasting above it, its fur singed to ash, flesh browning with a faint, fatty sizzle that sent tendrils of smoke curling upward. The aroma hit Gale like a punch¡ªrich, gamey, maddening to his empty stomach. The kobolds chittered in guttural snarls, a cacophony of snaps and hisses that grated on his ears, their movements sluggish. One yawned, maw gaping to reveal a forest of needle-teeth, pinkish gums glistening with saliva and bits of old meat. Another scratched the ground with a claw, carving aimless furrows, while the sword-bearer poked the rabbit, its forked tongue flicking out to lick its snout, leaving a wet, bloody smear from some prior kill. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. ¡°Dangerous in packs,¡± Gale murmured, ducking behind a hawthorn, its thorns snagging his sleeve. These weren¡¯t cartoon lizards¡ªthey were predators, feral and vicious, their scales rippling like a plague over their flesh, reeking of rot and bloodlust. Three against one, even drowsy, could end him fast with just a dagger. But that rabbit called, and the sword gleamed¡ªa longsword to them, a short sword to him, better than his rusty blade. His mind whirred, cleverness taking root. He didn¡¯t need to fight head-on¡ªnot yet. He slipped back, retreating to the stream¡¯s edge, the gurgle masking his steps. ¡°Ambush tactics,¡± he muttered, recalling the window. ¡°Let¡¯s turn it around.¡± Daytime was his advantage¡ªtheir squinting eyes, their lethargy. The ground near the water glittered with loose stones¡ªfist-sized, smooth from years of current. An idea sparked. Distraction, misdirection, guile. He pocketed two stones, their cool weight tugging his jeans, and checked his resources¡ªtwo crystals, one from the valley, one fresh from his earlier test. Back at the hawthorn, he peered again. The kobolds lazed, the rabbit¡¯s scent taunting him. He gripped a stone, steadied his breath, and lobbed it westward, past the camp. It clattered against a boulder, a sharp crack slicing the air. The kobolds jolted, heads snapping toward the sound, red eyes narrowing. They hissed, snatching spears, and shuffled that way, tails thrashing. The sword-bearer growled, clutching its weapon, staying put. ¡°Two gone,¡± Gale thought, calculating. He tossed the second stone farther west, another crack. The sword-bearer snarled, hesitated, then lumbered after its kin, dragging the blade through the dirt. Gale darted forward, heart pounding, staying low as he reached the fire. The rabbit dangled, half-cooked, its heat searing his fingers as he yanked it free. He dropped behind a fallen log, clutching a crystal and the dagger, the meat¡¯s warmth pressed against his chest. The kobolds chittered, their hisses echoing from the trees, confusion in their snarls. Gale peeked¡ªtwo scouts stabbed at shadows, flint tips glinting, while the sword-bearer sniffed, snout twitching. He snatched the dropped longsword¡ªshort for him, heavy but balanced, its hilt rough with leather scraps crusted in dried blood¡ªand bolted east, sneakers pounding the earth, rabbit tucked under his arm. The glowing dagger lay abandoned, its light winking out in the grass. A shriek tore through the air¡ªhigh, guttural, a sound like tearing flesh. Gale glanced back, stomach dropping. The kobolds had wheeled around, red eyes piercing the daylight¡¯s glare, locking onto him with predatory fury. Trained scouts, hunters¡ªthey weren¡¯t letting him slip away. Two gripped spears, raised high, flint tips dripping with a dark, rancid ooze, while the swordless one bared its claws, glistening with filth. Their tails lashed, driving them forward, claws gouging the earth, faster than their camp-sloth suggested, a trio of death closing in. ¡°Shit,¡± Gale gasped, legs burning as he sprinted, the hollow¡¯s edge a jagged line of rocks ahead. The stream¡¯s gurgle faded under the wind¡¯s howl and the kobolds¡¯ wet, snarling breaths¡ªclose, too close. He had seconds, a frantic heartbeat to think. The short sword swung awkwardly in his grip¡ªhe didn¡¯t know how to use it, not beyond panicked flailing that¡¯d leave him gutted. Two spears, one clawed menace, all lethal. He needed a plan, now. He stumbled behind a boulder¡ªgray, slick with lichen, chest-high¡ªand ducked low, breath heaving. The rabbit thumped to the dirt, the sword¡¯s weight dragging his arm. ¡°Lexicon,¡± he rasped, mind a whirlwind, willing the window open: [Rune Lexicon]
  • Description: Contains the 1,000 most-used words in your native tongue (English), paired with their divine runes. Combine 2-5 words to craft effects, fueled by energy crystals. Sigil activation required.
  • Note: Full list accessible via mental query. Experimentation encouraged.
Words flashed¡ªfight, strong, blade, know, help¡ªa frantic scroll as snarls neared. ¡°Sword¡­ teach¡­ me¡­ use¡­ better,¡± he muttered, piecing it together, cleverness clawing through panic. He pressed the crystal to the blade¡¯s flat, hissing, ¡°Sword Teach Me Use Well¡±¡ª[? ? ? ? ?]¡ªfingers trembling as he scratched the runes, jagged and sloppy. The Sigil flared, heat searing his arm, and the crystal melted into motes, sinking in with a crack. The sword pulsed, a jolt in his palm, and a sensation bloomed¡ªnot a vision, but a ghostly whisper, an instinct guiding his grip, his stance, whispering where to strike, how to block. No mastery, just a lifeline. The kobolds rounded the boulder, shrieking, a chorus of guttural rage. A spear thrust, flint gleaming, and Gale swung, the ghostly nudge twisting his wrist. The blade met the shaft, splintering it with a snap, but the second spear lanced in, grazing his thigh¡ªa hot, wet slash ripping through denim and flesh. Blood welled, dark and thick, soaking his jeans, pain exploding as he staggered. The unarmed kobold lunged, claws slashing, and Gale hacked, guided by the rune¡¯s whisper¡ªsteel tore through its shoulder, scales splitting, black blood spurting in a rancid arc. It screamed, a wet gurgle, guts spilling as its arm dangled by a shred of sinew. The spear-wielder thrust again, flint plunging toward his chest. Gale parried, the ghostly instinct tilting the blade, but too slow¡ªclaws raked his arm, tearing skin in bloody ribbons, muscle screaming. He roared, swinging wild, the sword biting deep into the kobold¡¯s neck¡ªflesh parted, bone crunched, a geyser of dark ichor painting the boulder. It collapsed, twitching, entrails leaking into the dirt. The last kobold¡ªthe swordless one¡ªsnarled, lunging with teeth bared, but Gale stabbed, guided again, steel punching through its chest. Scales shattered, ribs cracked, blood and bile bubbling as it fell, a limp, gory heap. Gale sank to his knees, gasping, blood dripping from his arm and thigh, staining the earth a muddy red. The rabbit lay smeared in dirt and crimson, the short sword slick with gore. Pain throbbed, grim and real, but he¡¯d survived. Windows flickered: [EXP Gained: 75 (Combat Victory)] [Skill Unlocked: Basic Swordsmanship (Rank 1)]
  • Description: Grants rudimentary proficiency with swords. Improves with use. [Quest Received: Clear the Kobold Lair]
  • Objective: Locate and defeat the Kobold Leader.
  • Subquest: Eliminate all 37 Kobold Scouts.
  • Reward: Unknown.
He clutched the sword, its rune-etched whisper fading, leaving a faint echo of know-how. ¡°Not¡­ dead,¡± he croaked, tearing into the rabbit¡ªhot, gamey, tainted with dirt and blood, but fuel. His wounds wept, the kobolds¡¯ butchered remains stinking of rot and iron. This world was brutal, monstrous¡ªand he¡¯d carve his way through it. 3. Blood and Bandages
Gale knelt in the shadow of the lichen-slick boulder, breath ragged, the short sword¡ªstill dripping with black kobold blood¡ªclutched in his trembling right hand. The air reeked of iron and rot, a sour tang mingling with the faint smoke of the distant fire pit. His left thigh throbbed, a deep gash weeping dark blood through torn denim, soaking the fabric in a sticky, spreading stain. His right arm fared worse¡ªthree jagged slashes from kobold claws raked across his forearm, flesh peeled back in wet, red ribbons, exposing sinew that pulsed with every heartbeat. The pain gnawed, sharp and relentless, a fire under his skin that made his vision swim. The rabbit lay at his feet, half-crushed from the fight, its roasted flesh smeared with dirt and his own blood. He didn¡¯t care. Hunger clawed harder than the wounds, a hollow ache that drowned out the world¡¯s brutality for a moment. He tore into it with his good hand, teeth sinking into the gamey meat¡ªhot, tough, laced with the faint bitterness of char and the metallic tang of his own gore. Juice dribbled down his chin, mixing with sweat and grime, as he chewed, swallowing fast, desperate to fill the void. Each bite steadied him, grounding his spinning head, even as the pain flared brighter. Around him, the kobolds¡¯ corpses sprawled in the dirt¡ªgrotesque heaps of scales and ruin. The first lay crumpled, its shoulder a mangled wreck, arm dangling by a thread of gristle, black blood pooling beneath in a congealing puddle. Its guts oozed out, a glistening tangle of purple and gray, stinking of bile and decay. The second¡¯s neck gaped wide, nearly severed, bone jutting through shredded flesh, its head lolling at an unnatural angle as dark ichor soaked the earth. The third twitched faintly, chest split open, ribs splayed like broken fingers, a stew of blood and viscera bubbling with its last, gurgling breaths. Their spears¡ªcrude sticks with flint tips¡ªlay scattered, tips glistening with a thick, greenish ooze that hissed faintly against the grass. Gale paused mid-bite, hazel eyes narrowing at the ooze. His thigh burned hotter now, a creeping numbness threading up his leg, and his arm tingled, a sickly chill beneath the pain. ¡°Poison,¡± he rasped, voice rough, spitting a chunk of gristle into the dirt. The kobolds weren¡¯t just hunters¡ªthey were killers, their weapons laced with something vile. He couldn¡¯t wait it out; the numbness was spreading, slow but sure, and he¡¯d be dead or crippled if it took hold. ¡°Gotta fix this.¡± He dropped the rabbit, wiping his bloody hand on his jeans, and scanned his resources. Three kobolds¡ªthree sources of energy, Runicar had said. Crystals came from magic, feelings, dead things. These rotting husks might work. He crawled to the nearest, grimacing as pain lanced through his leg, and pressed his Sigil-marked forearm against its scales. The glyph flared, warm and sharp, and a hum vibrated through the corpse. The air shimmered, and a crystal coalesced¡ªsmall, jagged, murky with a greenish tint, pulsing faintly. He repeated it twice more, each body yielding a similar gem, until three crystals clinked in his palm, their edges rough against his torn skin. ¡°Bandages next,¡± he muttered, determination steeling his voice despite the haze creeping into his thoughts. His button-up hung loose, stained with sweat and blood¡ªgood enough. He gripped the hem with his good hand, teeth gritted, and tore a long strip free, the fabric ripping with a harsh shrrk. Another followed, then a third, until his shirt hung in tatters, exposing his lean chest to the wind¡¯s cold bite. The strips were ragged, soaked red at the edges, but they¡¯d do. He fumbled with the Lexicon, willing it open in his mind: [Rune Lexicon]
  • Description: Contains the 1,000 most-used words in your native tongue (English), paired with their divine runes. Combine 2-5 words to craft effects, fueled by energy crystals. Sigil activation required.
  • Note: Full list accessible via mental query. Experimentation encouraged.
Words raced¡ªheal, mend, fix, clean, fast. ¡°Heal¡­ Fast¡­ Wound,¡± he growled, piecing it together, cleverness cutting through the fog. He pressed a crystal to the first strip, whispering, ¡°Heal Fast Wound¡±¡ª[? ? ?]¡ªand scratched the runes with a trembling finger, the dagger too slippery with gore to use. The Sigil burned, the crystal dissolved, and the fabric shimmered, a faint golden glow threading through the fibers. He wrapped it tight around his thigh, blood squelching as he knotted it, the glow sinking in. A warm pulse spread, dulling the fire, though the gash still oozed. Two more strips, two more crystals¡ªsame runes, same glow. He bound his arm, the tatters sticking to the raw flesh, crimson seeping through but slowing as the enchantment took hold. The numbness retreated, a sluggish ebb, replaced by a prickling ache¡ªpoison stalled, not gone. ¡°Few hours,¡± he muttered, analytical mind ticking. The runes weren¡¯t a cure, just a patch¡ªhe¡¯d be limping, but mobile. He slumped against the boulder, the rabbit back in his hands, tearing off another bite. The kobolds¡¯ stench clawed at his nose¡ªrotting meat, spilled guts, the sour reek of their ooze. His wounds throbbed under the glowing bandages, a grim reminder of how close he¡¯d come. The short sword lay beside him, blood-crusted, its rune-etched lesson still echoing in his grip. A window lingered: [EXP Gained: 75 (Combat Victory)] [Skill Unlocked: Basic Swordsmanship (Rank 1)]
  • Description: Grants rudimentary proficiency with swords. Improves with use. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. [Quest Received: Clear the Kobold Lair]
  • Objective: Locate and defeat the Kobold Leader.
  • Subquest: Eliminate all 37 Kobold Scouts.
  • Reward: Unknown.
¡°Thirty-seven,¡± he croaked, swallowing the last of the rabbit, its taste sour with dirt and victory. The lair loomed somewhere¡ªmore of these monsters, a leader worse than these scouts. His bandages glowed faintly, stitching him together, but the poison¡¯s shadow lingered. He¡¯d eat, rest, move¡ªbecause stopping meant dying.
Gale slumped against the lichen-slick boulder, the half-eaten rabbit cradled in his lap, its roasted flesh now cold and crusted with dirt and his own blood. The air hung heavy with the stench of death¡ªkobold corpses sprawled around him, their scales peeling in the sun, guts congealing into a stinking, fly-buzzed mess. His thigh pulsed beneath the enchanted bandage, a ragged strip of his torn button-up glowing faintly gold, staunching the gash where dark blood had soaked through his jeans. His right arm fared no better, wrapped tight in another glowing shred, the claw-slashed flesh beneath a mess of red and purple, throbbing with every shallow breath. The short sword rested beside him, its blade crusted with black ichor, the runes¡ªSword Teach Me Use Well¡ªetched into its steel still faintly warm. He chewed slowly, the rabbit¡¯s gamey meat tough and bitter, flecked with grit that crunched between his teeth. His good hand¡ªsticky with grease and blood¡ªtrembled as he tore off another bite, forcing it down to quiet the gnawing hunger. Two crystals had gone into the bandages, their glow dulling the poison¡¯s bite, but one remained, a murky green gem glinting in his pocket, harvested from the kobolds¡¯ rotting husks. The spears¡¯ ooze¡ªgreenish, rancid¡ªstill hissed faintly where it had splattered the grass, a venom that had seeped into his wounds. The bandages held it at bay, but he wasn¡¯t safe yet. ¡°Thirty-seven more,¡± he muttered, voice hoarse, glancing at the quest window hovering in his mind: [Quest Received: Clear the Kobold Lair]
  • Objective: Locate and defeat the Kobold Leader.
  • Subquest: Eliminate all 37 Kobold Scouts.
  • Reward: Unknown.
He needed a plan¡ªblindly stumbling into a lair meant death, especially limping and half-broken. Information first: where they were, how to find them. His mind churned, cleverness flickering through the haze of pain. The kobolds were trackers themselves¡ªscouts, hunters. He could turn that against them. ¡°Track the trackers,¡± he rasped, a grim smirk tugging his lips. The last crystal, the sword, the blood-soaked ground¡ªhe had tools. He shifted, wincing as his thigh protested, and scanned the hollow. The stunted trees loomed nearby, their gnarled branches clawing at the sky. One oak, thicker than the rest, bore a low, sturdy limb¡ªshort, straight, about a foot long. ¡°That¡¯ll do,¡± he said, dragging himself upright, leaning on the boulder. The short sword scraped the rock as he hefted it, its weight pulling at his torn arm. He hobbled over, each step a jolt of fire, and hacked at the branch. The blade bit deep¡ªwood chips flew, sap oozing like pale blood¡ªand it fell with a thud, trimmed rough but solid. Back at the boulder, he sank down, the branch across his knees. His head swam, a sudden lurch of dizziness tilting the world sideways. The poison¡ªdespite the bandages¡ªwas creeping in, a cold fog threading through his veins. His vision blurred, the kobolds¡¯ corpses doubling briefly, their stench sharpening into a nauseous wave. ¡°Not yet,¡± he growled, shaking it off, though his pulse thudded light and erratic in his ears. He fished the last crystal from his pocket, its jagged edges biting his palm, and set it against the branch. ¡°Lexicon,¡± he whispered, willing it open: [Rune Lexicon]
  • Description: Contains the 1,000 most-used words in your native tongue (English), paired with their divine runes. Combine 2-5 words to craft effects, fueled by energy crystals. Sigil activation required.
  • Note: Full list accessible via mental query. Experimentation encouraged.
Words spun¡ªfind, seek, track, life, same. ¡°Track¡­ Live¡­ Like¡­ Them,¡± he muttered, piecing it together, analytical even as his thoughts wobbled. He needed it to point to living kobolds, linked to these dead ones. Blood¡ªtheir blood¡ªcould tie it. He scooped a handful of the nearest corpse¡¯s ichor, thick and black, stinking of rot and iron, and smeared it across the branch, the stickiness clotting between his fingers. ¡°Track Live Like Them,¡± he said, pressing the crystal into the gore. The Sigil flared, heat surging, and he scratched the runes¡ª[? ? ? ?]¡ªclumsy but firm. The crystal dissolved, motes sinking in, and the branch thrummed, a faint pulse tugging eastward. ¡°Got it,¡± he rasped, but the world tilted again¡ªharder this time. His stomach churned, bile rising, and he slumped against the boulder, the wand slipping to his lap. The poison¡¯s grip tightened¡ªdizziness spun his head, lightheadedness drained his strength, the hollow¡¯s edges smearing into a gray haze. His bandages glowed, fighting it, warmth pulsing against the cold seeping through his limbs. Not lethal¡ªyet¡ªbut a brutal tax on his body. ¡°Few hours,¡± he croaked, analytical mind clinging to logic. The enchantment would heal him enough to move, but not now. Time crawled. The sun dipped, shadows stretching from the trees, their skeletal limbs clawing longer across the blood-streaked ground. Gale drifted, half-conscious, the rabbit¡¯s remnants clutched in his hand, its cold meat a lifeline he gnawed when the dizziness ebbed. Flies buzzed louder, swarming the kobolds¡¯ guts, a droning hum that matched the thudding in his skull. His thigh ached less, the gash knitting under the bandage, but the arm wounds wept, red and raw, the poison¡¯s chill lingering in his fingertips. Three hours later, the fog lifted¡ªslowly, grudgingly. He blinked, vision clearing, the hollow sharpening into focus: the stream¡¯s silver thread, the oaks¡¯ twisted silhouettes, the kobolds¡¯ festering remains. His head still buzzed, light but steady, and his wounds¡ªthough tender¡ªheld firm, the golden glow dimming as the bandages¡¯ power waned. He flexed his arm, wincing at the pull of scabbed flesh, and stood, leaning on the boulder. The wand pulsed in his grip, tugging east toward the hills, a grim compass to the lair. ¡°Thirty-seven,¡± he said, voice low, determination hardening. The poison hadn¡¯t killed him, but it¡¯d marked him¡ªanother scar in this brutal world. He tucked the rabbit¡¯s scraps into his torn jeans, hefted the sword, and started forward, the wand leading him into the unknown. 4. The Lair’s Edge
Gale limped eastward, the tracking wand clutched in his left hand, its faint pulse tugging him through the wild expanse beyond the hollow. The sun dipped low, a dull orange smear bleeding into the horizon, casting long shadows from the gnarled oaks and thorny scrub that dotted the rolling terrain. The air grew colder, a sharp bite seeping through his tattered button-up¡ªnow a shredded vest, sleeves ragged from bandages¡ªprickling his sweat-damp skin. His sneakers scraped over uneven ground, grass giving way to rocky patches studded with jagged stones, each step jarring the scabbed gash on his thigh. The poison¡¯s grip loosened, a slow retreat¡ªdizziness faded to a dull hum in his skull, lightheadedness easing into a persistent fog¡ªbut it left him drained, legs heavy as if slogging through mud. The hills loomed closer, their slopes a dark tapestry of pine and bramble, needles rustling in the wind like a chorus of whispers. The wand¡¯s thrum grew insistent, pulling him toward a narrow ravine carved into the hillside¡ªa gash of shadow where the earth split, its walls steep and crusted with moss-slick stone. His right arm ached, the claw wounds under the fading bandage a mess of crusted blood and bruised flesh, tugging with every swing of the short sword in his grip. The kobold blood on its blade had dried into a flaking crust, the runes¡ªSword Teach Me Use Well¡ªbarely visible beneath the gore. His breath rasped, shallow and raw, the rabbit¡¯s scraps long digested but not enough to banish the hollow ache in his gut. Sundown crept nearer, the sky bruising purple, the last light glinting off the ravine¡¯s edges. The wand jolted, a sharp buzz, and Gale crouched behind a boulder¡ªgray, wind-worn, half-buried in the soil. Peering out, he saw it: the kobold lair. A jagged cave mouth yawned in the ravine¡¯s wall, framed by splintered roots and piled bones¡ªskulls of rabbits, deer, something humanoid, yellowed and gnawed. Two kobold scouts stood guard, their scales glinting faintly in the dying sun, red eyes glinting as they squinted into the dusk. One gripped a spear, its flint tip dripping that same greenish ooze, while the other clutched a crude hatchet, its blade chipped and stained with old blood. Their tails twitched, claws scraping the dirt, chittering low in their guttural tongue. Gale ducked back, heart thudding. ¡°Guards,¡± he whispered, the wand¡¯s pulse confirming the lair¡¯s heart lay beyond. Thirty-seven scouts, a leader¡ªtoo many to face now, wounded and weary. The poison¡¯s fog lingered, a weight on his thoughts, and night was falling¡ªkobolds¡¯ time, when their eyes would sharpen and their sluggishness fade. He needed rest, a hidden spot to lick his wounds, or he¡¯d be meat before dawn. He scanned the ravine¡¯s edge. A cluster of brambles sprawled nearby, thick and thorny, their twisted branches woven into a natural screen against a shallow overhang of rock¡ªbarely a cave, more a crevice, but sheltered. ¡°Good enough,¡± he muttered, determination flickering through the haze. He crawled, keeping low, the wand tucked into his jeans, the sword dragging a faint line in the dirt. Thorns snagged his shredded shirt, pricking his arms, drawing fresh beads of blood as he wedged into the crevice. The space was tight¡ªdamp stone at his back, brambles shielding the front, the earthy reek of moss and rot filling his nose. Safe wasn¡¯t enough; it had to be hidden. His Energy felt thin, a trickle after the day¡¯s toll, and his wounds sapped his strength. No crystals left¡ªtwo spent on bandages, the third on the wand¡ªbut he could make one. ¡°Manifest Crystal,¡± he rasped, the Sigil flaring warm against his forearm. The air shimmered, a faint hum pulling ambient mana into a jagged, clear gem¡ªsmall, pulsing, born from the ravine¡¯s subtle magic. His head swam, the effort dragging his Energy lower, but it settled in his palm, cold and sharp. ¡°Status,¡± he said, the window flickering into view: [Status: Gale Harper]
  • Level: 1
  • Health: 62/100
  • Energy: 13/50
  • Stats:
    • Strength: 5
    • Endurance: 6
    • Dexterity: 6
    • Agility: 5
    • Vitality: 6
    • Wisdom: 5
    • Focus: 7
    • Intelligence: 5
    • Charisma: 5
    • Appearance: 5
    • Luck: 5
  • Unspent Points: 0
  • Abilities: Crystal Manifestation (Rank 1)
  • Skills: Rune Etching (Rank 1), Basic Swordsmanship (Rank 1)
He stared, a grim realization sinking in. Health at 62¡ªnearly half gone, even after the bandages¡ªand Energy at 13, gutted by poison, crystals, and now this. ¡°Still kicking,¡± he murmured, but the numbers were a cold truth¡ªsurvival hung by a thread, and the lair was a guillotine waiting to drop. Thirty-seven kobolds, a leader¡ªhe couldn¡¯t fight them head-on, not like this. ¡°Outthink them,¡± he growled, analytical mind sharpening despite the ache. The crystal gleamed, his last shot. ¡°Lexicon,¡± he whispered, scrolling mentally: hide, cover, shield, unseen. ¡°Hide Me Safe,¡± he settled on, a desperate bid for the crevice. He pressed the crystal to the stone above, scratching the runes¡ª[? ? ?]¡ªwith the sword¡¯s tip, sparks grinding as his arm shook. The Sigil flared, Energy dropping¡ª13 to 7¡ªand the crystal dissolved, a faint shimmer rippling over the brambles, dulling their outline, blending them into the dusk. Not invisible, but veiled, a shadow¡¯s deceit.
Gale woke to the muted gray of dawn filtering through the bramble curtain, a thin veil of mist coiling around the crevice like ghostly tendrils. The air hung thick and damp, saturated with the musty scent of wet stone and the faint rot of fallen leaves, a clammy chill that seeped into his bones. His breath escaped in shallow, ragged puffs, condensing briefly before dissipating into the gloom, each exhale scraping against a throat still raw from yesterday¡¯s ordeal. The enchanted bandages¡ªragged strips of his shredded button-up¡ªclung to his thigh and arm, their golden glow faded to a dull shimmer, the scabs beneath a crusty patchwork of red and bruised purple. The gash on his thigh ached dully, a deep throb beneath the denim¡¯s blood-stiffened tear, while his arm¡¯s claw wounds tugged with every slight shift, the skin tight and tender where it had knitted overnight. He lay still for a long moment, eyes tracing the crevice¡¯s confines¡ªthe damp, moss-streaked stone pressing against his back, its surface slick with condensation that beaded and dripped in slow, irregular plops. The brambles loomed inches from his face, a jagged lattice of thorns glinting faintly in the dawn light, their sharp tips glistening with dew like tiny, cruel teeth. The earthy reek of the hollow filled his nostrils, a mix of mold and crushed pine needles, undercut by the lingering iron tang of his own blood. His fingers brushed the short sword beside him, its blade cold and crusted with flaking kobold gore, the runes¡ªSword Teach Me Use Well¡ªetched into the steel barely discernible beneath the filth. The tracking wand pulsed faintly in his jeans¡¯ pocket, a quiet reminder of the lair¡¯s proximity¡ªthirty-seven kobolds and their leader, a slaughter waiting beyond the ravine. ¡°Too close,¡± he muttered, voice a hoarse whisper that barely carried past the brambles. The crevice had held, its Hide Me Safe enchantment veiling it through the night, but the faint echo of kobold chittering had haunted his fitful dreams¡ªclaws on stone, wet snarls in the dark. He couldn¡¯t stay here, not with their lair a stone¡¯s throw away, guards stirring as daylight crept in. ¡°Attrition,¡± he said, the word a grim promise, determination flickering through the weariness. He¡¯d bleed them slow, strike smart, survive¡ªbut that meant planning, resources, a better foothold than this cramped hole. He shifted, wincing as the scabs pulled, and gripped the sword¡¯s hilt, dragging himself upright. The crevice¡¯s stone scraped his back, leaving a damp smear on his tattered shirt¡ªnow little more than a shredded vest, its light blue fabric hanging in useless rags, stained with sweat and blood. Thorns caught his jeans as he crawled out, pricking his arms with tiny, stinging jabs, fresh beads of crimson welling against his pale skin. Standing was a slow, deliberate act¡ªhis thigh protested with a deep ache, his arm throbbed as he flexed it, but the poison¡¯s fog had lifted, leaving only a bone-weary fatigue. He scanned the ravine¡¯s edge, the lair¡¯s cave a dark smudge in the distance, then turned westward, where the hills softened into a dense thicket of pine and bramble. ¡°Distance,¡± he murmured, analytical mind stirring. A real base, secure and hidden, where he could breathe, think, prepare. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. The trek was measured, each step a test of will. His sneakers sank into the soft earth, pine needles crunching underfoot with a dry, resinous snap, releasing a sharp scent that cut through the mist. The ground sloped gently upward, rocky outcrops giving way to a carpet of fallen needles and tangled roots, the air growing heavier with the woody tang of sap and the faint musk of damp soil. The thicket closed in, pine branches brushing his shoulders, their needles prickling his bare arms, leaving sticky trails of resin that clung like a second skin. Brambles snagged his jeans, thorns scraping thin lines across his calves, but he pressed on, the wand¡¯s pulse a faint guide in his pocket. After an hour¡ªor what felt like it, time blurred by exhaustion¡ªhe stopped, breath shallow, at the edge of a shallow hollow. It nestled beneath a towering pine, its trunk a thick, weathered pillar, bark peeling in rough, grayish-brown strips that flaked under his touch like brittle parchment. The tree¡¯s roots sprawled outward, thick and gnarled, twisting into the earth like the claws of some ancient beast frozen mid-grasp, forming a low, uneven roof over a patch of dry soil. The hollow was modest¡ªperhaps five feet deep, seven wide¡ªits floor a mix of packed dirt and scattered needles, dry save for a faint dampness where the roots met stone, a subtle sheen of moisture glistening in the crevices. A slab of granite jutted from the back wall, smooth and cold to the touch, its surface veined with faint cracks that caught the dawn light in thin, silvery threads. Brambles flanked the entrance, a dense, thorny curtain woven tight, their dark green leaves rustling faintly in the breeze, tips curling inward as if guarding the space. Nearby, a thin trickle of water seeped from a fissure in the hillside, pooling into a shallow basin of mossy rock, its surface rippling with each drip¡ªa soft, rhythmic plink that echoed in the stillness, the water¡¯s edge fringed with tiny, pale ferns trembling in the draft. Gale exhaled, a slow hiss of relief, running his hand along the pine¡¯s rough bark, feeling the grooves and knots beneath his fingers, the texture gritty and reassuring. ¡°Base,¡± he said, voice low, stepping inside. The hollow¡¯s air was cooler, tinged with the sharp bite of resin and the faint, loamy scent of the earth beneath. The roots overhead arched low, brushing his hair as he ducked, their undersides studded with clinging dirt and wisps of cobweb that swayed in his wake. The granite slab pressed against his back as he sat, its chill seeping through his skin, grounding him in the quiet. The brambles at the entrance filtered the light into a dappled haze, casting jagged shadows across the floor, while the water¡¯s trickle offered a lifeline¡ªcold and clear when he scooped a handful, its mineral tang sharp against his dry tongue, washing away the lingering taste of blood and rabbit grease. Food loomed next¡ªrabbit scraps were gone, and hunger gnawed anew, a hollow ache that tightened his gut with every passing minute. Back on Earth, he¡¯d never hunted, never tracked¡ªhis life had been numbers, not nature, spreadsheets instead of snares. ¡°No skills for this,¡± he muttered, brow furrowing as he leaned against the slab, its cold surface numbing his spine. He¡¯d rely on magic¡ªtrap rabbits with runes, no need for knots or bait he couldn¡¯t make. ¡°Lexicon,¡± he whispered, scrolling the mental list: catch, kill, draw, rabbit, spike. He lingered on each word, turning it over in his mind¡ªcatch to hold, kill to finish, draw to lure, spike to strike. ¡°Spike¡­ Earth¡­ Kill¡­ Rabbit,¡± he mused, then paused, frowning. ¡°Why¡¯d they come?¡± A spike alone wouldn¡¯t draw prey¡ªit¡¯d kill what stepped there, but rabbits wouldn¡¯t wander blind. He needed a pull, a lure woven in. He chewed his lip, staring at the dirt floor, the grains shifting under his shifting weight. ¡°Spike Earth Kill Rabbit Draw,¡± he said slowly, piecing it together, cleverness cutting through the fatigue. A spike from the ground to pierce, a lure to summon¡ªpure magic, no skill required. He knelt near the entrance, brushing aside a layer of needles with his good hand, the soil beneath cool and gritty, clinging to his fingertips. The patch was flat, unmarred by roots, soft enough for the rune to take. ¡°Manifest Crystal,¡± he rasped, the Sigil flaring, a faint warmth against his arm. The air shimmered, mana condensing into a small, jagged gem¡ªclear, pulsing, its edges biting his palm as it formed. His head buzzed, a dull throb pulsing at his temples, but he pressed the crystal into the dirt, whispering, ¡°Spike Earth Kill Rabbit Draw¡±¡ª[? ? ? ? ?]. The Sigil burned, the crystal dissolved, and the ground thrummed, a faint ripple spreading outward. A tiny spike¡ªsharp, earthen, no taller than his finger¡ªpoked up, then sank back, primed to strike. A soft pulse rippled through the air¡ªwarm, grassy, a subtle hum of life that whispered of food and safety, a siren¡¯s call to small game. He sat back on his heels, breath shallow, wiping sweat from his brow with a trembling hand, the motion tugging at his arm¡¯s scabs. The trap was set, a grim little marvel, but he wasn¡¯t done. His shirt¡ªuseless now, a shredded rag¡ªdangled from his shoulders, stained with blood and sweat, its light blue faded to a mottled gray. ¡°Waste not,¡± he grunted, tearing it off entirely, the fabric ripping with a slow, deliberate shrrk that echoed in the hollow. He sliced it with the sword¡¯s edge¡ªtwo wide strips for bandages, their edges frayed and crimson-tinged, rolled tight with careful folds and tucked into his jeans¡¯ pocket, the denim sagging under their weight. A thinner strip remained, a string he twisted between his fingers, its texture rough and slightly damp against his calluses. ¡°Amulet,¡± he murmured, picking up a flat stone from the hollow¡¯s floor¡ªsmooth, gray, the size of his palm, with a natural hole near one end, its edges worn soft by time. He threaded the string through, knotting it into a crude pendant, the weight settling against his chest as he held it up, the stone cool against his skin. He paused, rolling the stone between his fingers, staring at its blank surface as the hollow¡¯s quiet pressed in¡ªthe water¡¯s plink, the brambles¡¯ rustle, the faint creak of the pine overhead. ¡°What do I need?¡± he said aloud, voice a low rasp, echoing faintly off the roots. Protection from the elements¡ªcold nights, rain, wind that¡¯d sap his strength and leave him shivering? He turned the idea over, picturing it: Weather Shield Me¡ªweather, shield, me¡ªa rune to keep him dry, warm, a bulwark against the wild¡¯s bite. He imagined the hollow snug, the chill banished, his wounds spared the damp¡¯s cruel tug. Useful, practical¡ªhis accountant¡¯s mind liked the efficiency, the safety. But he lingered, frowning, the stone¡¯s weight a question in his hand. ¡°Or stealth,¡± he muttered, shifting to another path. Hide Blend Forest¡ªhide, blend, forest¡ªa wraith among the pines, unseen by kobold eyes, slipping through shadows to strike and fade. He pictured it: creeping closer to the lair, their red gazes sliding past, his blade finding throats before they knew he was there. His war was attrition¡ªbleed them slow, outlast them. Stealth could kill; warmth couldn¡¯t. He sat there, minutes stretching, the hollow¡¯s stillness a canvas for his thoughts. The water dripped, a steady metronome¡ªplink, plink¡ªas he weighed it, fingers tracing the stone¡¯s edges, its smoothness a contrast to the chaos in his mind. ¡°Comfort¡¯s nice,¡± he said finally, voice firm, ¡°but surviving¡¯s better.¡± Stealth won¡ªHide Blend Forest it¡¯d be. ¡°Manifest Crystal,¡± he said again, the Sigil flaring once more, another gem shimmering into existence¡ªhis temples pulsed harder, a sharper ache now, sweat beading on his brow. He pressed it to the stone, scratching Hide Blend Forest¡ª[? ? ?]¡ªwith the sword¡¯s tip, the blade grinding sparks against the surface, each stroke a slow, deliberate scrape. The crystal dissolved, Energy draining, and the amulet thrummed, a faint shimmer cloaking it. He hung it around his neck, the string chafing his skin, and felt his outline soften, blending with the hollow¡¯s shadows¡ªnot invisible, but a flicker in the gloom, a ghost in the thicket. Exhausted, he slumped against the granite slab, the sword beside him, its hilt sticky with sap and dirt. ¡°Status,¡± he called, the window flickering into view: [Status: Gale Harper]
  • Level: 1
  • Health: 82/100
  • Energy: 9/50
  • Stats:
    • Strength: 5
    • Endurance: 6
    • Dexterity: 6
    • Agility: 5
    • Vitality: 6
    • Wisdom: 5
    • Focus: 7
    • Intelligence: 5
    • Charisma: 5
    • Appearance: 5
    • Luck: 5
  • Unspent Points: 0
  • Abilities: Crystal Manifestation (Rank 1)
  • Skills: Rune Etching (Rank 1), Basic Swordsmanship (Rank 1)
Health at 82¡ªfitful sleep and Vitality had mended him, scabs firm, though tenderness lingered in every flex. Energy at 9¡ªtwo crystals (5 each) and two enchantments (3 each) had gutted it, but rest had nudged it up from 7, a fragile thread to cling to. ¡°Better,¡± he murmured, realization settling like a stone in his gut. He could recover, plan, endure¡ªbut he was still fragile, a breath from breaking. The trap pulsed faintly, its lure humming, a rabbit¡¯s death waiting in the wings. The thicket rustled beyond the brambles, the day stretching ahead, slow and deliberate. ¡°One step,¡± he said, eyes narrowing, the war of attrition taking shape in his mind, a grim blueprint drawn in shadows and blood. 5. The Quiet Before and the First Blood
Three days slipped by in the thicket¡¯s shadowed embrace, each one a slow grind of survival and scheming beneath the towering pine. Gale worked in the hollow¡¯s dim light, his hands stained with dirt and sap, reinforcing his base with layers of rune magic. He etched Hide Deep Forest¡ª[? ? ?]¡ªinto the granite slab and roots, burning through manifested crystals until the hollow shimmered, its edges blurring into the pines and brambles like a mirage swallowed by the wild. The air within grew stiller, the brambles thickening under the enchantment¡¯s touch, their thorns weaving tighter until the entrance was a near-impenetrable veil, pierced only by the faint plink of the water trickle seeping from the hillside. Rest came in fits, sprawled on the needle-strewn floor, the granite slab cold against his back as he slept off the last of his wounds. The enchanted bandages¡ªlong since peeled away¡ªleft scabs that flaked into scars, faint pink lines on his thigh and arm, tender but healed. His trap proved its worth, the Spike Earth Kill Rabbit Draw rune humming steadily, luring rabbits to their doom. Each day brought a fresh kill¡ªsmall, twitching bodies impaled on the earthen spike, blood pooling in the dirt, their fur matted with the forest¡¯s damp. He cooked them over a fire sparked by a new trick: a fist-sized stone etched with Flame Small Start¡ª[? ? ?]¡ªignited with a crystal and a whispered command. The flames crackled low, licking at the rabbit flesh, filling the hollow with the smoky tang of char and fat, a scent that clung to his jeans and skin as he ate, tearing into the meat with stained fingers. Between meals and rest, he scouted¡ªcautious, deliberate, the Hide Blend Forest amulet softening his outline as he crept eastward to the ravine¡¯s edge. From behind boulders and bramble thickets, he studied the kobold lair, its cave mouth a jagged scar framed by gnawed bones and trampled earth. The guards rotated, two at a time, their scales glinting in the sun, red eyes sharper at dusk. Scouts slipped out in pairs or trios, spears dripping ooze, hatchets swinging, their chittering a guttural hum that carried on the wind. They hunted rabbits, scavenged roots, dragged back kills¡ªpatterns he memorized, timings he noted, weaknesses he probed. Night brought more¡ªtheir numbers swelled at the entrance, tails lashing, claws scraping as they grew bold under the dark. Thirty-seven, the quest said, and he counted each glimpse, mapping their rhythm. By the third day, his body steadied¡ªHealth near full, Energy creeping back, the hollow a grim sanctuary. The short sword rested beside him, cleaned of gore, its runes gleaming faintly in the firelight. The tracking wand pulsed, the lair¡¯s pull a constant itch, but he waited, planning offscreen tricks yet untested, his mind a quiet forge of attrition. The thicket rustled beyond the brambles, the fire¡¯s embers dying to ash, and Gale sat, hazel eyes sharp, the war¡¯s first move brewing in the silence. [Status: Gale Harper]
  • Level: 1
  • Health: 95/100
  • Energy: 35/50
  • Stats:
    • Strength: 5
    • Endurance: 6
    • Dexterity: 6
    • Agility: 5
    • Vitality: 6
    • Wisdom: 5
    • Focus: 7
    • Intelligence: 5
    • Charisma: 5
    • Appearance: 5
    • Luck: 5
  • Unspent Points: 0
  • Abilities: Crystal Manifestation (Rank 1)
  • Skills: Rune Etching (Rank 1), Basic Swordsmanship (Rank 1)
The fourth morning broke cold and gray, a thin fog threading through the thicket, muting the pine needles¡¯ rustle to a whisper. Gale crouched in the hollow, the granite slab¡¯s chill seeping into his knees, the short sword gripped in his right hand¡ªits blade cleaned, runes glinting faintly in the dim light filtering through the bramble curtain. The air smelled of damp earth and the faint char of last night¡¯s rabbit, its bones scattered near the fire-stone, still warm from the Flame Small Start rune. His jeans were stiff with dried blood and sap, the Hide Blend Forest amulet a cold weight against his bare chest, its enchantment softening his outline into the shadows. The tracking wand pulsed in his pocket, a steady tug eastward, where the kobold lair waited. Three days had honed him¡ªHealth near full, Energy bolstered by rest and meat, the hollow a fortress veiled by Hide Deep Forest. He¡¯d watched the kobolds, their patterns burned into his mind: scouts slipping out at dawn and dusk, pairs or trios, spears dripping ooze, returning with kills or empty-handed. Night swelled their numbers at the cave mouth, but day thinned them¡ªguards drowsy, patrols sparse. ¡°Hit them small,¡± he murmured, hazel eyes narrowing, analytical mind ticking. Attrition started here¡ªa single strike, a test of his edge. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. He slipped out, the brambles parting silently under the hollow¡¯s enchantment, thorns brushing his arms without snagging. The thicket swallowed him, pine branches clawing at his skin, leaving faint scratches that beaded with blood. The ravine loomed ahead, its walls a jagged scar in the hillside, the lair¡¯s cave a dark yawn framed by gnawed bones¡ªskulls and ribs, some disturbingly human, stacked in careless piles. He crouched behind a boulder, its surface rough with lichen, and peered out. Two guards stood at the entrance, scales glinting dully in the morning light, red eyes squinting against the sun. One leaned on a spear, its flint tip oozing green, while the other scratched at the dirt with a hatchet, tail twitching lazily. A third kobold emerged, chittering low, its spear slung over its shoulder as it shuffled westward¡ªalone, a scout breaking from the pack. Gale¡¯s pulse quickened, a grim smile tugging his lips. ¡°One down,¡± he whispered, the wand confirming its path matched his notes¡ªtoward a rabbit warren half a mile out. He crept after it, the amulet¡¯s shimmer blending him with the pines, sneakers silent on the needle-strewn ground. The kobold moved sluggish, snout twitching, oblivious to the ghost trailing its shadow. The terrain dipped into a shallow gully, brambles thinning to patchy grass, a cluster of burrows dotting the earth¡ªrabbit tracks crisscrossing the dirt. The kobold paused, sniffing, spear raised as it scanned for prey. Gale ducked behind a stump, its bark peeling in wet strips, and weighed his move. The sword felt heavy, its rune-guided instinct a faint whisper in his grip, but he wasn¡¯t here for a fair fight. ¡°Lexicon,¡± he muttered, scrolling: earth, spike, kill, fast. ¡°Spike Earth Kill Fast,¡± he decided, a quick end over a brawl. ¡°Manifest Crystal,¡± he rasped, the Sigil flaring, mana condensing into a jagged gem¡ªhis head buzzed, Energy dipping, but he clutched it tight. He scratched Spike Earth Kill Fast¡ª[? ? ? ?]¡ªinto the dirt near the kobold, the sword¡¯s tip grinding silently, hidden by the amulet¡¯s veil. The crystal dissolved, the ground thrummed, and he ducked lower, breath held. The kobold stepped forward, snout low¡ªand the earth erupted. A spike¡ªjagged, stone-sharp¡ªlanced up, punching through its gut with a wet crunch. Scales split, black blood sprayed in a rancid arc, guts spilling in a steaming tangle¡ªropy intestines slithering out, flecked with bile and half-digested meat. It shrieked, a high, gurgling wail that choked off as the spike twisted, shredding its innards into a pulpy mess. The body slumped, twitching, spear clattering beside it, ooze pooling in the grass with a faint hiss. Gale exhaled, heart pounding, and crept closer. The stench hit¡ªrot, bile, iron¡ªas he pressed his Sigil to the corpse, harvesting a murky crystal, its green tint pulsing faintly. A window flickered, then flared brighter: [EXP Gained: 25 (Stealth Kill)] [Level Up! Level 1 ¡ú Level 2]
  • EXP: 0/200
  • Stat Points Gained: 5 [Quest Update: Clear the Kobold Lair]
  • Subquest Progress: 3/37 Kobold Scouts Eliminated
The Sigil burned, a sharp heat threading through his arm, his body tingling as the level-up took hold. ¡°About time,¡± he grunted, mind racing¡ªfive points to spend, a chance to sharpen his edge. Focus first, his lifeline¡ªtwo points there, honing his rune-crafting precision. The rest for his war: Endurance to outlast their numbers, Vitality to weather their claws, Agility to strike and slip away. He allocated them¡ª1 to Endurance, 1 to Vitality, 1 to Agility¡ªfeeling a subtle shift: his breath deepened, his frame toughened slightly, his steps gained a flicker of grace, grounding him in this brutal game. ¡°Thirty-four left,¡± he murmured, pocketing the crystal, the scout¡¯s blood slick on his hands, smearing his jeans as he wiped them. He dragged the body into the brambles, thorns tearing at its scales, ripping flesh in wet strips as he hid it from patrol eyes. The gully stilled, rabbits darting back to their holes, the kill unseen. He retreated, slipping into the thicket, the amulet cloaking his trail, his tread steady despite the gore. Back at the hollow, he sank against the slab, sparking the fire-stone with a flick¡ªflames licking up, the smoky tang of rabbit filling the air as he cooked another catch. ¡°One step,¡± he said, eyes on the embers, the war¡¯s first blood a grim spark, his body stronger, ready for the next. [Status: Gale Harper]
  • Level: 2
  • Health: 100/110
  • Energy: 30/55
  • Stats:
    • Strength: 5
    • Endurance: 7
    • Dexterity: 6
    • Agility: 6
    • Vitality: 7
    • Wisdom: 5
    • Focus: 9
    • Intelligence: 5
    • Charisma: 5
    • Appearance: 5
    • Luck: 5
  • Unspent Points: 0
  • Abilities: Crystal Manifestation (Rank 1)
  • Skills: Rune Etching (Rank 1), Basic Swordsmanship (Rank 1)
6. The Fox Bites
The fifth day dawned sharp and brittle, a thin frost glazing the thicket¡¯s pine needles, crunching under Gale¡¯s sneakers as he slipped from the hollow. The air bit at his bare arms, raising gooseflesh beneath the Hide Blend Forest amulet¡¯s faint shimmer, its string chafing his neck with every move. The short sword hung in his grip, its blade clean save for the faint runes etched into the steel¡ªSword Teach Me Use Well¡ªa tool poised for blood today. The hollow glowed faintly behind him, Hide Deep Forest cloaking it in shadow, the Spike Earth Kill Rabbit Draw trap still humming, its latest victim¡ªa skewered rabbit¡ªcooling in the dirt, blood pooling around the earthen spike. ¡°Traps first,¡± he muttered, breath fogging, hazel eyes scanning the ravine¡¯s edge half a mile east. Three kobolds down¡ª34 left¡ªand he¡¯d memorized their paths: dawn patrols snaking west to the warrens, dusk hunts looping south, midday lulls leaving gaps. Attrition demanded patience, a network of death to bleed them slow. He¡¯d spent the night resting, Energy trickling back¡ªFocus fueled it, a well he¡¯d learned to gauge, 25 base plus five times his Focus, recharging at 10 an hour when he slept or sat still. He crept westward, the amulet blending him with the pines, frost-dusted branches clawing at his jeans, tearing faint threads loose. The gully from yesterday stretched ahead, rabbit burrows dotting its grassy floor, kobold tracks pressed into the damp earth¡ªclawed prints, fresh from dawn. Starting near full¡ª70 Energy at Level 2¡ªhe knelt, tracing Spike Earth Kill Fast¡ª[? ? ? ?]¡ªinto the dirt with his finger, the Sigil flaring as his will shaped the runes, ¡°Manifest Crystal¡± pulling a jagged gem from the air. His temples throbbed, 8 Energy spent as the crystal dissolved and the rune set, the ground thrumming, a spike flickering up and down, primed. He baited it¡ªscattering rabbit fur from his kills, a faint scent to lure kobolds sniffing for prey. Two more traps followed, each a half-mile apart along the western patrol route¡ªrunes traced into dirt beneath a pine¡¯s shadow, hidden by needles, baited with fur and a smear of blood. Three crystals, three enchantments¡ª24 Energy total burned across the morning, dropping him to 46. He retreated, the thicket swallowing him, and watched from a ridge, a boulder¡¯s rough bulk shielding him as the sun climbed, resting an hour to claw back 10 Energy to 56. Midmorning brought the first catch¡ªa kobold scout, scales dull in the light, spear dragging as it sniffed the burrows. It stepped, snout low, and the spike erupted¡ªstone tearing through its chest, ribs cracking like dry twigs, black blood gushing in a hot spray. Guts spilled, a wet slap against the grass, its shriek choking into a gurgle as it collapsed, twitching, ooze dripping from its spear. A window flared: [EXP Gained: 25 (Trap Kill)] Gale harvested a crystal, the stench of rot thick as he dragged the corpse into the brambles, thorns shredding its flesh into ragged strips. By noon, a second fell¡ªcaught south of the gully, the trap¡¯s spike punching through its thigh, severing arteries in a crimson fountain, scales peeling as it thrashed and bled out. Five down¡ª32 left. Another window: [EXP Gained: 25 (Trap Kill)] The third trap stayed quiet, but suspicion crept in¡ªkobold chittering grew sharper at the lair¡¯s mouth, guards pacing tighter, red eyes darting. ¡°They¡¯re learning,¡± Gale muttered, retreating to the hollow, the day¡¯s kills a grim tally¡ª50 EXP pushing him to 150 total, still short of the next rung. He rested a few hours, Energy ticking back to 70 by dusk. The sixth day sharpened their wariness¡ªpatrols doubled, pairs now, spears raised, snouts twitching for traps. One triggered the third spike¡ªa glancing blow, shredding its leg, black blood soaking the dirt as it shrieked and limped back, its partner abandoning it to report. Five down still¡ª32 left¡ªno kill, no reward, just a warning sent. The lair buzzed, guards tripling by dusk. Gale watched from the ridge, the fire-stone cooking rabbit as he schemed, fingers tracing the five murky crystals in his pocket¡ªgreen, pulsing, harvested from kobold dead. Traps worked, but they¡¯d adapt¡ªhe needed something bigger, something to break them. Day seven, he sat in the hollow, Energy full at 70 after a night¡¯s rest, the fire-stone¡¯s embers glowing, the rabbit¡¯s smoky tang mixing with the faint rot of his jeans¡¯ bloodstains. His mind churned¡ªfive kills, five crystals, their venomous weight a tool he couldn¡¯t ignore. ¡°They poisoned me first,¡± he muttered, the memory sharp: the claw¡¯s sting, the ooze burning his veins, hours of fog and pain. He¡¯d survived, turned it back with bandages, but the kobolds kept coming¡ªspears dripping, claws slashing. Traps whittled them, but slow wasn¡¯t enough¡ªthey¡¯d find him eventually, overwhelm him with numbers. He needed a blow to gut them, to choke their lair. ¡°Gas,¡± he whispered, the idea sparking¡ªsmoke them out, like fire in a rat¡¯s nest. He rolled a fist-sized stone from the hollow¡¯s floor, its surface pitted and cold, weighing it in his palm. Their ooze was poison¡ªcould he turn it back, make it spread? He scrolled the Lexicon mentally: spread, cloud, poison, hit, sicken, kill. A stone to burst on impact, a cloud to seep in, a sickness to linger¡ªstacked, layered, a death woven from their own malice. He hesitated, fingers tightening on the stone. Back on Earth, this was unthinkable¡ªgassing a den, watching them choke and rot. His stomach twisted, a flicker of nausea rising. ¡°They¡¯re monsters,¡± he growled, shoving the doubt down. ¡°They¡¯d do worse¡ªalready did.¡± The poison scar on his thigh throbbed, a jagged pink line¡ªhe¡¯d nearly died to their venom. Survival trumped guilt. He traced the runes, small and tight with his finger, the Sigil glowing as his will carved them:
  • Hit Spread Gas¡ª[? ? ?]¡ªto burst on impact, releasing a cloud.
  • Thicken Cloud More¡ª[? ? ?]¡ªto dense the fog, choking the air.
  • Burn Lung Deep¡ª[? ? ?]¡ªto sear their breath, blistering inside.
  • Sicken Blood Fast¡ª[? ? ?]¡ªto rot their veins, slowing them.
  • Sicken Slow Kill¡ª[? ? ?]¡ªto fester and slay, a creeping death over hours.
Each crystal sank in, the Sigil flaring five times¡ª40 Energy burned (25 for crystals, 15 for enchantments), dropping him to 30¡ªhis vision blurred, knees buckling as the stone thrummed, heavy with layered malice, its surface faintly steaming, a faint green haze curling from the runes. Noon struck, the sun a pale disk overhead. Gale crept to the ravine¡¯s lip, the amulet cloaking him, the lair¡¯s entrance swarming¡ªeight kobolds milling, scales glinting, chittering over a deer haunch. He lobbed the stone, a low arc, and it struck the cave floor with a crack. Green fog exploded outward, thick and acrid, reeking of rot and bile, seeping into the tunnels like a living thing. Kobolds shrieked, claws scrabbling as it burned their eyes, snouts hacking up black phlegm. Six at the mouth collapsed, vomiting blood, scales blistering as they convulsed¡ªeight became two, then none as the last pair fell, choking on blackened bile. Shouts echoed deeper, the gas curling into the lair, choking cries rising¡ªwet gurgles, thrashing, then silence from the tunnels¡¯ depths. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. Gale struck¡ªone straggler, blinded, stumbled near his perch, coughing black sludge. The sword slashed, parting its neck in a wet crunch, head tumbling, blood jetting in a hot arc, the body flopping, guts spilling from the stump. Seven down that moment¡ª30 left. Windows flared: [EXP Gained: 175 (Gas Strike: 150, Sword Kill: 25)]
  • Gas Strike: 6 immediate (150 EXP)
  • Sword Kill: 1 (25 EXP) [Level Up! Level 2 ¡ú Level 3]
  • EXP: 125/300
  • Stat Points Gained: 5
  • Skill Selection Available: Choose one based on actions taken.
The Sigil burned, a sharp heat threading through his arm, his body tingling as Level 3 settled in¡ªEnergy max rising to 80 with his Focus at 9. But the gas lingered, its Sicken Slow Kill rune working unseen. Over hours, as he retreated and watched from the ridge, resting an hour to regain 10 Energy, eight more succumbed deeper in¡ªfaint shrieks fading to rasps, bodies found later by survivors, scales peeling, blood oozing from mouths and eyes, a slow rot claiming them in the dark. Fifteen down total¡ª22 left. Another window flared: [EXP Gained: 200 (Gas Strike: Delayed)]
  • Gas Strike: 8 delayed (200 EXP)
Gale slumped, the fire-stone¡¯s warmth a faint comfort against the hollow¡¯s chill, the rabbit¡¯s smoky tang filling the air. ¡°Biggest yet,¡± he grunted, mind racing¡ªfive points to spend, a skill to claim. Focus stayed key¡ªtwo points there, raising it from 9 to 11, pushing Energy max to 80. The rest: 1 Endurance, 1 Vitality, 1 Agility¡ªstamina, toughness, speed for the hunt ahead. A new window flickered, offering skills honed from his path: [Skill Options]
  1. Rune Potency (Rank 1)
    • Description: Increases the strength and effect of rune-based enchantments. Improves with use.
  2. Stealth Strike (Rank 1)
    • Description: Enhances damage and precision of attacks from hiding. Improves with use.
  3. Crystal Efficiency (Rank 1)
    • Description: Reduces Energy cost of manifesting crystals by 10%. Improves with use.
He chewed the rabbit, grease smearing his fingers, eyes narrowing. ¡°Power,¡± he muttered, settling on Rune Potency¡ªhis war was runes, and raw strength would break them faster. The skill locked in, a faint hum in his mind, his runes pulsing with new weight. He harvested a crystal from the sword-killed kobold, the gas¡¯s stench clinging to his skin as he slumped, Energy at 40 after the strike and rest. ¡°They¡¯ll come now,¡± he rasped, eyes on the flames, the kobolds¡¯ numbers gutted, their rage a storm brewing. His network held, the gas reaped deep¡ªnext, he¡¯d brace for their hunt. [Status: Gale Harper]
  • Level: 3
  • Health: 110/120
  • Energy: 40/80
  • Stats:
    • Strength: 5
    • Endurance: 8
    • Dexterity: 6
    • Agility: 7
    • Vitality: 8
    • Wisdom: 5
    • Focus: 11
    • Intelligence: 5
    • Charisma: 5
    • Appearance: 5
    • Luck: 5
  • Unspent Points: 0
  • Abilities: Crystal Manifestation (Rank 1)
  • Skills: Rune Etching (Rank 1), Basic Swordsmanship (Rank 1), Rune Potency (Rank 1)
The eighth day slipped in with a damp chill, mist weaving through the thicket, beading on the pine needles in glistening droplets that caught the faint dawn light. Gale woke within the hollow, his back pressed against the granite slab, its icy bite seeping through his torn jeans to numb his spine. The short sword rested beside him, its blade a dull gleam in the shadows, a tool waiting for its moment. The air carried the faint char of last night¡¯s rabbit, mingling with the sour rot of bloodstains crusting his clothes¡ªfifteen kobolds culled, 22 left, their silence heavier than their shrieks. He¡¯d slept through the night, Energy near full at 70¡ªFocus at 11 fueling a well of 25 base plus five times that stat, honed to a quiet edge after yesterday¡¯s gas strike. His mind lingered on the rune¡¯s shimmer from the stone, a detail he shook off to refocus¡ªEXP sat at 325, Level 3 secured, 425 toward the next rung of 700. The kobolds would come soon, enraged, hunting the shadow that gutted them, and the hollow¡ªroots arching overhead, brambles at the entrance, water trickling in a soft plink¡ªfelt too exposed against their numbers. He needed to bury this sanctuary deeper before their claws scratched close. The amulet¡¯s shimmer had served him, but it was crude early work¡ªkobold eyes might pierce it, and he couldn¡¯t risk that. His thoughts turned to reinforcing the hollow, driving off beasts, throwing the kobolds off his scent before they neared. He began with concealment, kneeling near the slab, tracing Hide Deep More¡ª[? ? ?]¡ªinto its surface with his finger, the Sigil flaring as his will shaped it. Manifest Crystal summoned a gem¡ª5 Energy spent, 3 more to set the rune (62 left)¡ªshadows pooling thicker, brambles curling denser, thorns lengthening like claws. Next, he moved to the entrance, tracing Drive Life Away¡ª[? ? ?]¡ªinto the dirt, another crystal fading¡ª8 more Energy (54 left)¡ªa sharp, repellent pulse rippling outward to ward off rabbits, wolves, anything that might draw noses. The gas had reaped deep, but traps and bombs wouldn¡¯t end this¡ªkobolds weren¡¯t mindless, just vicious, and they¡¯d hunt smarter now. He needed misdirection, phantoms to chase. Memories surfaced¡ªlate nights on Earth, TV documentaries of foxes outsmarting hounds with doubled trails, false scents through brush and stream, a survivor¡¯s cunning he¡¯d admired before this world claimed him. He could weave that here, turn their hunt into a maze. He stepped west beyond the brambles, tracing Trail False Lead¡ª[? ? ?]¡ªinto the dirt, a harvested crystal dissolving¡ª3 Energy spent (51 left)¡ªa shimmer streaking westward, a false scent of sweat and blood threading the mist. East followed, near the second trail¡ªanother crystal, 3 more Energy (48 left)¡ªthen south by the trickle¡ª3 more (45 left)¡ªa triangle of deceit to fracture their pursuit. The mist thickened, and a rustle broke his focus¡ªthree kobold silhouettes emerged, spears glinting, red eyes cutting through the amulet¡¯s shimmer. His earliest craft faltered against their hunt, spotting him mid-step. A spear sailed, thunking into the root wall as he dove behind the slab, heart pounding. The false trails shimmered, two peeling west, chittering, claws tearing earth. One stayed, snout twitching, spear raised¡ªa gap he hadn¡¯t foreseen, his attention on the trails¡¯ weave. He lunged low, sword slashing its leg¡ªa wet crunch, black blood spraying, scales splitting. It shrieked, tumbling, and he drove the blade through its chest, ribs snapping, guts spilling in a hot, rancid flood¡ª25 EXP flared, 450/700 now. He harvested a crystal, the stench thick, the hollow¡¯s runes holding as the others¡¯ cries faded west. Energy at 45, he retreated to the slab, the fire-stone sparking as he cooked, the kobolds¡¯ hunt split¡ª21 left, their rage closer. Foxes didn¡¯t stop at trails¡ªthey struck from the maze. He¡¯d turn pursuit into death, stone traps along those false paths. He traced Spike Earth Kill Fast¡ª[? ? ? ?]¡ªwest, a harvested crystal setting it¡ª3 Energy (42 left)¡ªthe ground thrumming, a spike primed. East took another¡ª3 more (39 left)¡ªthen south¡ª3 more (36 left)¡ªtraps woven into the deceit. Hours passed, mist lifting as the sun climbed, and the traps struck. West first¡ªa kobold¡¯s shriek, the spike erupting through its gut, black blood spraying, guts spilling¡ª25 EXP, 475/700. East followed¡ªspike piercing its chest, ribs snapping, a wet gurgle¡ª25 EXP, 500/700. South stayed quiet, but two down left 19¡ªtwo less to hunt him. He harvested crystals, dragging corpses into the thicket, thorns tearing scales, the stench clinging as he slumped, Energy at 36, rabbit roasting. They¡¯d regroup, their hunt sharper, but he¡¯d bled them further. 7. The Scent of Ruin The eighth day bled into dusk, the sky a bruised smear of purple and red above the ravine, casting jagged shadows across the lair¡¯s mouth. Skrix crouched low, his mottled scales glinting faintly in the fading light, a dull greenish-gray sheen crusted with the day¡¯s filth¡ªmud from the warrens, blood from a rabbit he¡¯d gutted with his claws, its innards still smeared across his snout. His spear rested against his shoulder, its flint tip dripping a slow, viscous ooze¡ªgreen and rancid, a gift from the leader¡¯s brew, stinging his nostrils with its sour bite. The air hung thick with mist, curling through the pines like the breath of some unseen beast, and the wind carried a sharp, unfamiliar tang¡ªnot prey, not rot, but wrongness. His whip-like tail lashed once, stirring the dust at his clawed feet, a restless twitch that matched the gnawing itch in his skull. Skrix¡¯s red eyes¡ªslitted, sharp despite the dusk¡ªdarted to the cave¡¯s edge, where the bone pile loomed: skulls and ribs, some fresh with clinging meat, others yellowed and cracked from seasons past. Two guards flanked the entrance, their scales duller than his, tails limp with the day¡¯s weariness. One scratched at the dirt with a hatchet, its blade nicked and crusted, while the other leaned on a spear, chittering low¡ªa guttural snap of hunger and boredom. Skrix hissed back, a short bark, his tongue flicking out to taste the air. The lair stank of kin¡ªsweat, blood, the sour reek of their venom¡ªbut beneath it, that wrongness lingered, a thread he couldn¡¯t claw free. Three dawns ago, the air had turned foul. Skrix remembered: the green fog rolling from the cave¡¯s heart, thick and choking, burning his eyes until they wept black tears. He¡¯d been deep, gnawing a deer shank, when it hit¡ªshrieks echoing off stone, wet gurgles as kin fell, scales blistering, blood bubbling from snouts and mouths. Eight died at the mouth, six he¡¯d seen himself, their bodies twitching, guts spilling in steaming heaps, claws scrabbling at nothing. More faded later¡ªeight again, found cold in the tunnels, eyes wide and oozing, a slow rot chewing them from within. Skrix had sniffed one, its stench sharp with poison, not their own. Something else¡ªnot beast, not rival pack¡ªhad struck, a shadow with no scent he knew. His mind churned, slow but jagged, like a flint shard grinding against bone. Kobolds hunted. Kobolds killed. Prey ran or bled¡ªrabbits with their soft throats, deer with their brittle legs, even the tall-ones with their metal sticks, if the pack was big. But this? This took them. Skrix¡¯s claws tightened on his spear, the wood rough against his callused palm, its weight a comfort that felt thinner now. Three gone before the fog¡ªsnouts sniffing warrens, then silent, no shrieks, no tracks, just blood in the grass and thorns. Two more this dawn, west and east, their guts torn by earth that stabbed¡ªspikes of stone, reeking of that wrongness, shredding scales and spilling black rivers. Nineteen left, the leader¡¯s snarls had counted, his voice a deep rasp that shook the lair¡¯s walls. Nineteen, and Skrix felt the pack shrink, a hole where kin should be. He shuffled forward, snout low, tasting the dirt¡ªdamp, pine-sharp, laced with that faint, bitter thread. Instinct screamed: hunt it, claw it, eat it. But his eyes flicked to the guards, their red glares dull with dusk¡¯s pull, and a colder thought scratched through¡ªit hunts us. Skrix wasn¡¯t the leader, wasn¡¯t the biggest, but he¡¯d lived through winters, outrun wolves, stabbed a tall-one¡¯s gut once and licked its blood clean. He knew traps¡ªrabbit snares snapping necks, pits swallowing hooves. This felt like that, but worse¡ªsmarter, meaner, a trap with no shape he could bite. A chitter rose from the cave¡ªsharp, urgent. Skrix¡¯s head snapped up, ears twitching, the slits narrow and quivering. Krix, another scout, scuttled out, scales scratched from a tunnel crawl, his hatchet dragging a faint line in the dirt. ¡°West,¡± Krix hissed, tongue flicking, red eyes wide with something Skrix rarely saw¡ªfear. ¡°Trail there. Blood, sweat, not ours. Leads off.¡± Skrix¡¯s tail lashed again, harder, dust puffing around his claws. The leader had roared at dawn¡ªfind it, kill it, bring its head. Trails west, east, south¡ªfalse, maybe, but meat to chase. Skrix¡¯s snout twitched; he¡¯d smelled west too, faint but real, a pull he couldn¡¯t shake. ¡°Two,¡± Skrix snapped back, his voice a wet growl, claws flexing. ¡°Not one. Two.¡± Krix tilted his head, snout wrinkling, then nodded¡ªpairs now, after the spikes, after the fog. Alone meant death, and Skrix felt it in his bones, a chill deeper than the dusk¡¯s bite. The guards chittered, spears shifting, but stayed¡ªleader¡¯s word, hold the mouth. Skrix and Krix moved, slipping west, the mist swallowing their scales, pine shadows stretching long and thin across their path. The trail wound through brambles, thorns snagging Skrix¡¯s legs, drawing thin beads of black blood that glistened and dried fast. His spear dragged, tip scraping earth, ooze leaving a faint hiss in the grass. Krix hissed ahead, snout low, hatchet raised¡ªhunting stance, but his tail twitched too fast, too sharp. Skrix¡¯s eyes narrowed, scanning: pines loomed, their needles a rustling shroud, the ground soft with frost-melt and rabbit tracks. The wrongness grew¡ªsweat, blood, not kobold, not prey, a scent that pulled and lied. His mind clawed at it¡ªtall-one? No, they clanked, they shouted. This was quiet, a ghost with claws of stone and fog. A crack split the air¡ªsharp, close. Krix froze, then shrieked, a wet wail as the earth erupted. A spike¡ªjagged, gray¡ªlanced up, punching through his gut, scales splitting in a wet crunch, black blood spraying in a hot arc. Guts spilled, ropy and steaming, tangling around the stone as Krix thrashed, hatchet clattering, his claws raking air. Skrix leapt back, spear raised, heart thudding¡ªa trap, another trap, the wrongness laughing in the dirt. Krix¡¯s shrieks choked off, blood bubbling from his snout, eyes rolling white as he slumped, the spike slick with his ruin. Skrix¡¯s tail lashed wild, a snarl ripping from his throat¡ªrage, fear, a mix he couldn¡¯t name. He stabbed the ground, flint sinking deep, ooze hissing, but the spike stayed, cold and still, Krix¡¯s corpse a warning. Eighteen now. His mind spun¡ªrun, tell, fight? The leader would claw him for fleeing, but this wasn¡¯t prey to gut. It knew them¡ªknew their paths, their hunts, turned their own venom back. Skrix sniffed, the false trail fading under Krix¡¯s blood-stink, and a colder thought sank in: it¡¯s close. Not west, not east¡ªhere, watching, waiting. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. He wheeled, spear high, red eyes piercing the mist¡ªpines, brambles, shadows that flickered too soft. A rustle¡ªfaint, wrong¡ªand his claws tightened, venom dripping faster, a hiss rising as he backed toward the lair. Eighteen left, and Skrix felt the pack¡¯s edge fray, a hunter hunted, his primitive cunning clawing for a way to bite back. Skrix¡¯s claws gouged the earth as he bolted, the mist swirling in his wake, a cold shroud that clung to his scales like damp rot. His spear thudded against his shoulder, flint tip dripping ooze that hissed in the grass, leaving a trail of faint, acrid steam. Krix¡¯s blood-stink lingered in his snout¡ªhot, iron-sharp, mixed with the wrongness that coated the spike, a scent that gnawed at his skull and drove his tail to lash wilder. Eighteen now¡ªeighteen claws, eighteen snouts, and the pack¡¯s edges crumbling under a shadow he couldn¡¯t bite. The lair called, a dark pulse in his bones, and the Leader¡¯s rasp echoed there, a sound that promised teeth and ruin if he returned empty. The ravine¡¯s walls loomed, steep and slick with moss, their shadows swallowing him as he scrambled over trampled dirt and gnawed bones. The cave mouth yawned ahead, framed by the bone pile¡ªskulls staring with hollow eyes, ribs jutting like broken claws, some fresh with meat scraps Skrix had torn free days ago. The guards snapped upright, red eyes glinting, spears shifting as he stumbled near. One hissed¡ªa low, wet growl¡ªhatchet raised, its chipped blade catching the dusk¡¯s last red smear. ¡°Back?¡± it snarled, snout twitching. ¡°Krix?¡± Skrix bared his teeth, yellowed and jagged, a snap of rage and fear. ¡°Dead,¡± he spat, voice a guttural rasp, claws flexing. ¡°Spike. Earth bit him¡ªgut open, blood out. It did.¡± The guards¡¯ tails twitched, fast and sharp, eyes darting to the mist beyond. They chittered¡ªshort, nervous barks¡ªspears tilting toward the dark, but they didn¡¯t move. Leader¡¯s word held them, rooted like stone, even as the pack bled. Skrix shoved past, scales scraping their arms, and plunged into the cave. The air thickened¡ªdamp, sour with kin-stink and the faint rot of old kills, the green fog¡¯s echo still clinging to the walls. Tunnels twisted, narrow and jagged, their stone scratched by claws and stained with black blood smears from the fog-dead. His eyes adjusted, slits widening in the gloom, catching glints of scales ahead¡ªkin milling, chittering low, their spears and hatchets dull with use but sharp with venom. Three lingered near a deer haunch, tearing at it with claws and teeth, black blood crusting their snouts, but their tails hung low, sluggish, the pack¡¯s fire dimming. Deeper, the tunnel widened, a chamber of rough stone and shadow, its floor littered with bones and fur scraps. The air grew heavy, pressing Skrix¡¯s scales, a weight that made his claws curl tighter. At the chamber¡¯s heart, the Leader crouched¡ªa hulking shape, scales darker than night, a deep greenish-black that swallowed light, rippling with muscle no scout could match. His tail coiled, thick and whip-sharp, its tip flicking with a dry scrape against the stone, a sound that clawed at Skrix¡¯s ears. Claws gleamed¡ªlonger, blacker, curved like scythes, tips glistening with a venom that shimmered faintly, a sickly yellow-green that burned the air with its reek. His snout jutted forward, broad and scarred, teeth bared in a jagged grin¡ªtoo many, too sharp, crowding his maw like a trap ready to snap. Red eyes glowed, not slitted but wide, piercing, cutting through the dark like blood-stars, and they locked on Skrix, unblinking, a weight that pinned him where he stood. The Leader didn¡¯t rise¡ªjust shifted, a slow ripple of power, his claws tapping the stone once, a dull thunk that echoed louder than it should. A longsword rested beside him¡ªnot crude like the scouts¡¯ stolen blades, but forged, its edge a dull silver streaked with rust and dried gore, too heavy for any but him to swing. Skrix¡¯s snout twitched, tasting the air¡ªrot, venom, and something colder, sharper, a death-scent that made his gut twist. The Leader¡¯s chitter was low, a rumble that vibrated the floor, not words but a growl that scraped Skrix¡¯s mind raw. ¡°Speak,¡± it said, and the sound was a blade on bone, deep and final. Skrix dropped his spear, its clatter swallowed by the chamber¡¯s weight, and crouched lower, tail still, claws digging into the dirt. ¡°Krix dead,¡± he hissed, voice trembling but sharp, forcing it out. ¡°West trail¡ªfalse, pulled us. Spike came, earth stabbed, gut him open. Blood everywhere¡ªnot ours, not prey. It¡ªit¡¯s here, close, killing.¡± His eyes flicked up, meeting the Leader¡¯s for a heartbeat, then down, the glow burning his skull. ¡°Eighteen left. Trails lie¡ªwest, east, south¡ªall lie.¡± The Leader¡¯s tail lashed once, a crack like breaking wood, and the chamber stilled¡ªkin at the edges froze, teeth mid-bite, eyes wide. A snarl rolled from his throat, wet and guttural, venom dripping from his maw to hiss against the stone, a faint steam curling up. ¡°It,¡± he echoed, the word a slow tear, his claws flexing, gouging faint lines in the floor. ¡°No tall-one. No wolf. Smarter. Deadlier.¡± His head tilted, snout sniffing, a long, deep pull that rattled the air¡ªthen a huff, sharp and dismissive, venom splattering near Skrix¡¯s claws, stinging his scales. ¡°Weak pack. Soft claws. Die too easy.¡± Skrix flinched, tail curling tight, but didn¡¯t snap back¡ªcouldn¡¯t. The Leader¡¯s strength wasn¡¯t just size¡ªSkrix had seen it, moons ago, a tall-one in metal shredded, limbs torn free, blood painting the ravine red while the Leader laughed, a sound like grinding stone. Scouts broke prey; the Leader broke everything. His venom didn¡¯t just sicken¡ªit melted flesh, turned bone to mush, a death no scout could weave. Skrix¡¯s mind clawed¡ªit killed with spikes, fog, tricks, but the Leader could crush it, snap it, if they found it. The Leader rose, slow and deliberate, towering twice Skrix¡¯s height, scales rippling like a storm over muscle thick as roots. The longsword scraped as he gripped it, a single claw curling around its hilt, lifting it like it weighed nothing¡ªits edge caught the faint torch-glow from a kin¡¯s fire, flashing a dull, deadly gleam. ¡°Find it,¡± he growled, voice a thunder that shook Skrix¡¯s bones. ¡°No more trails. No more waiting. Hunt it¡ªclaw it¡ªbring its meat.¡± His eyes narrowed, a promise in their red depths, and his claws tapped again¡ªthunk, thunk¡ªa rhythm of death. ¡°Or I hunt you.¡± Skrix scrambled back, snatching his spear, heart thudding fast and shallow. The Leader¡¯s shadow loomed as he turned, barking a sharp chitter¡ªkin jolted, spears rising, hatchets gleaming, a pack roused to fury. Eighteen left, and Skrix felt the Leader¡¯s will tighten them, a snare of rage and fear. The wrongness waited¡ªclose, too close¡ªbut the Leader¡¯s strength was a wall, a blade, a venom that could end it. Skrix hissed, low and desperate, and slipped toward the tunnel, the hunt shifting, the pack¡¯s teeth bared for blood. ~~BONUS CHAPTER!~~
THE RUNE LEXICON
a able about above accept
across act actually add admit
afraid after afternoon again against
age ago agree ah ahead
air all allow almost alone
along already alright also although
always am amaze an and
anger angry animal annoy another
answer any anymore anyone anything
anyway appear apparently approach are
area aren''t arm around arrive
as ask asleep ass at
attack attempt attention aunt avoid
away* baby back bad bag
ball band bar barely bathroom
be beat beautiful became because
become bed bedroom been before
began begin behind believe bell
beside besides best better between
big bit bite black blink
block blonde blood* blue blush
body book bore both bother
bottle bottom box boy boyfriend
brain break breakfast breath breathe
bright bring broke broken brother
brought brown brush build burn*
burst business busy but buy
by call calm came can
can''t care carefully carry case
cat catch caught cause chair
chance change chase check cheek
chest child children chuckle city
class clean clear climb close
clothes cold color come comment
complete completely concern confuse consider
continue control conversation cool corner
couch could couldn''t counter couple
course cover crack crazy cross
crowd cry cup cut* cute
dad damn dance dark date
daughter day dead deal dear
death decide deep* definitely desk
did didn''t die different dinner
direction disappear do doctor does
doesn''t dog don''t done door
doubt down drag draw* dream
dress drink drive* drop drove
dry during each ear early
easily easy eat edge either
else empty end enjoy enough
enter entire escape especially even
evening eventually ever every everyone
everything exactly except excite exclaim
excuse expect explain expression eye
eyebrow face fact fall family
far fast* father fault favorite
fear feel feet fell felt
few field fight figure fill
finally find fine finger finish
fire* first fit five fix
flash flip floor fly focus
follow food foot for force
forget form forward found four
free friend from front frown
fuck full fun funny further
game gasp gave gaze gently
get giggle girl girlfriend give
given glad glance glare glass
go God gone gonna good
got gotten grab great green
greet grey grin grip groan
ground group grow guard guess
guy had hadn''t hair half
hall hallway hand handle hang
happen happy hard has hate
have haven''t he he''d he''s
head hear heard heart heavy
held hell hello help her
here herself hey hi hide*
high him himself his hit*
hold home hope horse hot
hour house how however hug
huge huh human hundred hung
hurry hurt I I''d I''ll
I''m I''ve ice idea if
ignore imagine immediately important in
inside instead interest interrupt into
is isn''t it it''s its
jerk job join joke jump
just keep kept key kick
kid kill* kind kiss kitchen
knee knew knock know known
lady land large last late
laugh lay lead* lean learn
least leave led left leg
less let letter lie life*
lift light* like line lip
listen little live lock long
look lose lost lot loud
love low mad made make
man manage many mark marry
match matter may maybe me*
mean meant meet memory men
mention met middle might mind
mine minute mirror miss mom
moment money month mood more*
morning most mother mouth move
much mum mumble must mutter
my myself name near nearly
neck need nervous never new
next nice night no nod
noise none normal nose not
note nothing notice now number
obviously of off offer often
oh okay old on once
one only onto open or
order other our out outside
over own pack pain paint
pair pants parents park part
party pass past pause pay
people perfect perhaps person pick
piece pink piss place plan
play please point pop position
possible power practically present press
pretend pretty probably problem promise
pull punch push put question
quick quickly quiet quietly quite
race rain raise ran rang
rather reach read ready real
realize really reason recognize red
relationship relax remain remember remind
repeat reply respond rest return
ride right ring road rock
roll room rose round rub
run rush sad safe* said
same sat save saw say
scare school scream search seat
second see seem seen self
send sense sent serious seriously
set settle seven several shadow
shake share she she''d she''s
shirt shit shock shoe shook
shop short shot should shoulder
shouldn''t shout shove show shower
shrug shut sick side sigh
sight sign silence silent simply
since single sir sister sit
situation six skin sky slam
sleep slightly slip slow* slowly
small smell smile smirk smoke
snap so soft softly some
somehow someone something sometimes somewhere
son song soon sorry sort
sound space speak spend spent
spike* spread* stair stand star
stare start state stay step
stick still stomach stood stop
store story straight strange street
strong* struggle stuck student study
stuff stupid such suck sudden
suddenly suggest summer sun suppose
sure surprise surround sweet table
take taken talk tall teacher
team tear teeth tell ten
than thank that that''s the
their them themselves then there
there''s these they they''d they''re
thick thing think third this
those though thought three threw
throat through throw tie tight
time tiny tire to today
together told tomorrow tone tongue
tonight too took top totally
touch toward town track* trail*
train tree trip trouble trust
truth try turn twenty two
type uncle under understand until
up upon us use* usual
usually very visit voice wait
wake walk wall want warm
warn was wasn''t watch water
wave way we we''ll we''re
we''ve wear week weird well*
went were weren''t wet what
what''s whatever when where whether
which while whisper white who
whole why wide wife will
wind window wipe wish with
within without woke woman women
won''t wonder wood word wore
work world worry worse would
wouldn''t wow wrap write wrong
yeah year yell yes yet
you you''d you''ll you''re you''ve
young your yourself blend* cloud*
false* forest gas heal* lung
rabbit sicken sword teach* thicken
wound card paper pocket arcane
ash ember frost mist shadow
storm thunder tide void augury
banish bind cantrip chant charm
conjure curse dispel divination enchant
ether glyph hex incantation lore
magic mana mystic omen oracle
pact portal ritual rune scourge
scroll seer shroud sigil sorcery
spell summon talisman tome trance
ward weave witch wizard alloy
anvil bellows blade brass bronze
carve chisel copper forge foundry
gold hammer hilt ingot iron
kiln lath lathe lead mallet
mithril ore pewter plank rivet
shaft silver smelt smith steel
tang temper timber tin tongs
veneer whittle wire yoke alder
bark birch bough briar cedar
elm grove hazel hew ivy
leaf moss oak pine root
sap thorn twig yew basilisk
beast chimera demon dragon drake
fae fiend gargoyle ghost ghoul
goblin golem griffin harpy imp
kraken lich minotaur ogre phantom
raven shade siren spectre troll
vampire wight wolf wyrm aegis
arrow axe barding bow buckler
chain cuirass dagger falchion flail
gauntlet greaves helm lance mace
pike plate quiver sabre scabbard
shield spear staff vambrace abyss
barrow bastion cairn castle catacomb
cavern citadel crypt dungeon fort
keep lair monolith ruin shrine
spire temple tower vault bane
bleak blight bloodlust boon brine
brood chalice cloak crone crucible
damnation decree dirge doom dread
exile fate fell foe gloom
gore grave grim hoard horde
knave lament legend liege maim
mercy mire oath peril plunder
pyre quest realm relic scour
siege slay strife taint amulet
beacon brew cask cauldron clan
covenant dawn dusk ebb flask
fleece gem glint grimoire guise
haven heir horn idol jinx
kindle knot loom mantle mead
nook parch potion prey ridge
rite sack sage sate scourge
shard skein spark steed surge
swarm thrall veil vigor abjure
balefire bole cinder clave duskwood
ebon farrow gird harrow knell
lode marrow nimbus pall quell
riven sunder thane wraith