It was as if he were a deer in headlights. The description sat blankly in front of his eyes, but he could longer see it. Sage’s vision was stolen from him by the roar; only the pulsating pump of blood in the corners of his eyes was what he acknowledged. 

The trees shook and cracked; green giants so mighty in their presence, ruling high above the realm of the land-dwellers, that’s what they were— yet they still bent to the whims of the approaching beast. 

Run. It was the first word to break his inner silence. His body had moved before his mind, weight shifted to the balls of his feet far before his silence had broke, and because of this, it had already halted before he was met with a devastating realization. The beast would follow him. Wherever he ran to, it would chase him down. He could not outrun it, it was sure to be quicker than the regular boars.

The ground now shook, he only had a matter of seconds. What if he exited the realm? Would he be unable to because of the active task? Neither his hands nor mouth moved to access the menu.

It was more akin to a wooly mammoth when it burst through the trees, toppling two to the side. Its tusks were ivory and curved out from under its open mouth of crooked, flat teeth meant for grinding. Its fur was thicker than he could imagine and it shook with each ground shaking step.

If you were to note the differences between the king and a mammoth, there would be very few. The king did not have a hose for a snout, and it was free of blubber; its muscles were toned and surging, filled with power. 

The beast laid its eyes on Sage and raged filled them. Fear was all he felt watching death charge towards him; the same hopelessness from when he faced the scorpion consumed him, but he moved his feet. Kiting around the charge path, he made way for the forest. Keeping the king in his peripheral the entire time, he saw it gallop along the hillside to redirect itself. It was charging him again before Sage had made it to the forest. 

His mind was elsewhere, so he did not notice the speed his legs kicked the ground. Track was one sport Sage never engaged in; at this speed, however, he would’ve been on his way to the Olympics. The king was still faster. 

Had his decision to move come any later, a tusk would’ve speared him before he made it to the forest-line. Thanking his quick wits, Sage dove to the right just shy of being impaled. Trees toppled as they were rammed into, and the moment of daze the king must’ve felt would not go unexploited. Sage ran. 

Darkness befell him from what he assumed the shade of the trees. The moon pierced the swaying treetops in dappled slices of blue light; the younger sibling of the sky guided Sage as best he could over uprooted trunks and uneven terrain. What it could not guide him on was how to best his foe. 

His options would’ve been multitudinous had Wave Burst been in his arsenal; it did not matter whether he used the skill for movement or attack. But of course, he had no essence. There was one thing, however, that could aid him. Yes, it had proved itself before, and he would rely on a repeat for he had no other choice. 

Sage needed a plan; any plan would do, so long as it were viable. 

His time for thinking was short, made evident by the manic roaring and stomping that scattered any remaining, brave forest-life that dared to interfere with the king’s hunt. 

There was no hiding thanks to the pheromones attracting the king towards him. Even if he hid, it would find him by smell. But what gave of the smell? His skin? It would be something that came from his body, something that could carry the pheromones outside. Sweat. It must be sweat; blood was a possibility too, but sweat was the preferred choice of belief. 

The plan was coming to him; it formed in his mind. His plan rode the coattails of his other as he placed his faith blindly in his buff. 

Sage ran, looping between trees to rub his sweat on them. He spat on the ground whenever he remembered too in hopes it too carried pheromones. He would spread his smell across this section of the forest, infusing it with his scent like an incense shop that carried only his fragrance. 

Thirty seconds felt like thirty minutes. The king, despite owning this territory, must not have been as free in the trees as Sage was. Though the window was minuscule, he had been given time to put a plan into motion. 

Gazing down upon the ground below from a treetop high above, he waited for the beast to come. It would enter the circle of trees and thrash about in search of his dispersed scent. When it stilled, rationalizing his location, Sage would drop down and pierce its head with his blade. It would work. Even without the buff, he was certain this plan would’ve been a success. 

The king approached with ferocity. It did not slow its approach and rammed into a tree two over from where Sage nestled in the branches. He stifled his pacing breath, worrying even the smallest increase in his heart rate or breathing would sabotage the plan. 

It was working. To locate him, the king rammed tree after tree and dug up the ground, roaring as he failed to reveal his prey. 

Sage watched the tractor sized boar with bated breath and beady eyes until its trashing came to a stop and it stilled. His blade shook in his clenched hands, sweat forming on the palms; he didn’t notice. It was time. 

Dropping from the branches as covertly as he could, he fell to the ground. His blade pointed down and acted as if it were magnetized to the king’s skull. 

He was but a few paces away from piercing the space between the eyes when, in a fraction of a second, the king rose to its hind legs and thrust its tusks down like a sledgehammer onto concrete. Sage was not quick nor dexterous enough to raise his sword in protection. The tusks connected with his left arm and shoulder, slamming him onto the ground. He felt his shoulder pop and his arm snap, followed by the cracking of his ribs and the expulsion of blood from his mouth.

It felt like death; the pain was so severe that he couldn’t grasp how much of his body was truly broken. 

He bounced off the ground once, and then slammed down onto it. The boar king roared a bellow of victory and galloped around the circle of trees. Did it not seek to finish him? Sage’s mind was barely able to form thoughts, but he was still conscious of the fight. With his head unable to turn, he couldn’t see where the king strode to; he still felt its presence and the slight tremble of the ground from its thunderous stomps. It was near, and it wasn’t going to let him live.

Tears involuntarily fell from his eyes, forced out by a congregation of fear and pain. It felt more real now than before that he was going to die. His body was paralyzed and wouldn’t budge as he struggled to inch his way off the ground. The ground shook, signaling the approach of the king. 

Sage’s body refused to move despite the screaming of his mind and synapses. He was going to die, no, he was already dead. The king was going to trample him, spewing his insides as he had done to the scorpion. It was over. 

He then felt it; it took control of his body similar to how fear did. If he could move, he would’ve turned his head to the other side to gaze at it. But he could not. It was the same feeling Felix had yanked him from in the crowd. 

“It seems this was too much for you,” a female voice said. It sounded familiar, and Sage desired to peer at the owner with his entire being; whether the familiarity came from this feeling that was not his own, or from actual experiences, he did not know. 

“Contact Point,” she said again but with a severity not present before. 

Sage heard rumbling but did not feel it in the ground; it came from the sky. The moonlight that barely illuminated the forest disappeared from his sight, casting him into almost complete darkness. That void, however, was soon pried open by a flash so bright, had he been in his right mind, he would’ve feared going blind. An ear-shattering squeal reverberated through the forest, followed by the torrenting wind of an explosion and the sound of thunder that overpowered the boars dying cry. 

Silence ensued after the crashing of what Sage’s waning consciousness perceived as the king’s fallen body. Stolen by the darkness, the blue moonlight entered the forest once again. 

“You are one of us, aren’t you? Why did arrive so late?” the woman said. She crouched down near his stomach. Had his eyes not been blurry, he would’ve seen her in full, but he could only make out her figure dressed in dark trousers, vest, and hooded cloak; he could not make out the color. 

“This must be painful, it’ll be over soon, though. Don’t worry.” 

Sage saw her remove something from thin air, her items list, most likely, but couldn’t see where she held her sack. He then blinked, or planned to; his eyes did not open when he wanted them to. 

He then felt damp, like he was coated in a cool towel on every inch of his body. Sage inhaled deeply as a wave of energy surged through his body. His shoulder felt as though it had been put back into place— his arms and ribs mended. All the pain that encapsulated him had vanished in an instant. 

What just happened? Was it a skill? That was the only thing that made sense. With clarity back in his mind and power back to his body, Sage flung himself off the ground, searching for the voice. But, like the feeling that controlled him, the person was gone. He threw his eyes across every visible stretch of the forest with a frantic determination. 

“Finish it before it gets back up. Think of this as my gift to you; grow stronger before you find us,” the woman said with an echoing voice. 

She was gone. With that fact clear, Sage moved his attention to the king. In the center of the trees, where had planned to finish it originally, it lay motionless aside from the sputtering undulation of its chest. 

Sage walked over to the unconscious beast. Its fur was seared, blackened by the supposed lighting that struck it. All it took was one strike for her to down it; it must’ve been mere child’s play to her. 

One of them. She called Sage one of them. Did that mean there was a reason he was brought here? She herself seemed confused at his presence though. It was too much for him to process at the moment. 

Sage picked up his sword off the ground. What should’ve filled him was fear, the desire to flee from this world and all its dangers; it did not. Instead, he gritted his teeth and desired to throw the useless blade across the forest. No, it wasn’t the blade that was at fault, it was him. 

To think that a buff could overthrow the clear gap between him and the king was idiotic. For the first time in this world, he had failed at something he sought to do. He should be dead; that truth made his knuckles turn white as he gripped the hilt of the sword. To avoid this feeling again, this feeling of deflation and defeat, he needed to grow stronger. 

As he drove his blade through the king’s skull, he thought about how it felt to be motionless— paralyzed. It was so scary. He nearly shed a tear thinking how Jessica must feel, trapped in her no longer able body. For the first time since the accident, he felt he understood how she felt. 

The king’s chest no longer rose. 

[Boar King Defeated | Exp Obtained: 2000 | Essence Earned: 18]

[Level Increased: 9-11 | Stat Points Available]

[Special Task Completed | 20 Stat Points Obtained | Thrust Skill Gem Obtained | The Kings Chest Obtained | The Kings Gloves Obtained | All Items Sent to Bag]

The glory he’d usually feel at the abundance of notifications was missing; Sage avoided the feeling, unworthy of its praise. 

“Loot,” he said, lifeless.

[Boar King Looted | 13 Silver Coins | 1x Vial of Corruption | 1x Serrated Tusk | 2x Healing Potions]

The healing potions cleared the fog in his mind; that’s what the woman had used. Unaware of the conversion between bronze and silver, Sage couldn’t grasp exactly how much he had earned. But he knew, at this level, it was a fortune. 

Seating himself at the trunk of a nearly uprooted tree, Sage gazed at the nighttime sky the parted treetops made way for. The moon wasn’t visible there, but shining stars dotted the sky in volumes; they did little to raise his spirits. 

There was something deep in him that he felt. A few hours ago, he would’ve admonished himself, but now, it seemed as though it were a necessity— and he did little to alter that. He needed to meet that person, his pride required it. He needed to show them that he would never need their aid again; the determination he felt was frightening, but he reveled in it.