So what youre telling me is I'm never going to be a Great Sage... excuse me, a [Grand Magician] wielding fireballs in both hands as I char the battlefields.

The whole experience was still really overwhelming for him, but at least he thought he was figuring out some of the basics. He had a good grasp on what the different [Stats] did after he spent some time tediously spamming [More Information]. They were all largely within the realm of expectation with the exception of [Intelligence], which oddly enough had very little to do with IQ, critical thinking, or any other thing commonly understood by the word.

Interesting, but in light of my null [Mana], useless. The bright side is I have one less [Stat] to worry about. Assumably my [Stats] will go up if I level, maybe if I do exercises my [STR] increases? That reminds me how exactly does a [Job] differ from a [Class]? Is it like my job is to cook food and I am the [Head Chef]? More Information: [Job]!

Hmm, I think I understand this. If I want a [Job] I have to learn about it first, show an interest in it, then practice a little. I get the feeling it isn't always that simple, after all, I have a mysterious locked [Job] already. I suppose it's time to see what these so-called [Skills] are all about. As if I don't already have that. Isn't that right, Buddy?

He looked off towards the headless scarecrow sprawled out in a mix of dried blood and scattered fur — or so he imagined. At first, there had been a never-voiced fear of other predators coming by while attracted to the blood. But with the fog receding, and the sun shining brightly in the sky now, no new challengers had arrived. Thus [Headless Scarecrow], thought-ward of the muse, became a way he could inject a much-needed release of tension.

Passives, all passives. Is the system trying to tell me something? I guess it is about time I start thinking about how I'm getting down off this damn mountain. Hey H.S., you got any ideas?

Quintin sighed, passing his eye over the headless wolf corpse as the sunlight glinted off its long, trench-making claws. He remembered exactly what had happened during his first encounter with the wolf.

He got up and walked over to study the rock wall where he had seen the [Intruder Wolf] clinging to the side before it leapt down. Penetration marks pin-pricked the rock which created holes like a well-traveled, ice-picked trail.

That's right! Theyre mountain climbers! If I can find some way to fashion a glove... glove.

Looking down at what he wasn't quite regarding as his hands, he silently contemplated while staring at the quarter-and-a-half-sized nodules that ringed around his wrist.

This is dumb. It obviously won't work, right... Those claws are needle-like. I can just try it, and laugh at myself later.

He walked back near the dead wolf and knelt down by the severed paw, holding a claw up close to the nodule to take a measurement.

It looks like a tight fit, which is good if it fits. Thin, needle-like, and chafed from picking into rock surfaces, just like I thought.

He pinched around at the skin and connective tissue to loosen the claw out rather than attempt to pull and risk crushing them with his grip. In that manner, and just like that, he was now sitting before a pile of twenty wolf claws. A product of his hopeful enthusiasm.

There wasn't any great ritual or fanfare about what happened next. He picked one up and it slid into place as if it always belonged there.

"Great! Who says optimism only hurts?" He said aloud while pumping his clenched fist in the air. With a popping sound the wolf claw, now projectile went whizzing off high into the air.

His eye still filled with half-excitement blankly followed the missile reach its apex and begin to fall.

"Huh?"

                        +***+
                     End of Chapter 1