Hunter was riding the high of his last victory as he walked up the trail ascending Snodgrass. His blood was singing in his veins as he replayed the events over and over in his mind. Killing the ghorum was a kind of power that the teenager had never felt in his life. Up until now, he had been told what to do, what he should think, or how he should feel. Something was freeing about coming up with a plan and executing it flawlessly. There were no teachers, counselors, or coaches who had to tell him how to win his battle. 

Hunter faltered in his steps at the realization. His time in the Rift had changed him. Before, he would’ve agonized over every decision. Now, he felt clarity in his thoughts. There was something about danger and imminent fear of death that stripped away all of the unimportant details. Everything came down to the thrust of a sword and the might of his magic. Sure, he was living off of borrowed power. Greed wasn’t his friend. It was a tool that he needed to use while his strength developed. It was important that he didn’t forget that fact, or he would lose sight of himself. 

Unfortunately, that brought another host of questions. Who was Hunter? Who did he want to become? What was important to him? These were all of the questions that he had already been asking of himself. It was annoying that he had to confront them once again, but this time his answers meant something. 

For Hunter’s whole life, he had never thought he would fail. He was always confident that he was smart enough to worm his way out of every bad situation. What was the worst that could happen to him? Obscurity? Most people were nobodies in life. Poverty? Well, Hunter had lived without wealth his entire life. It wasn’t much of a threat. 

Maybe that was the whole point of this?

Hunter stumbled over his own feet at the realization. He didn’t have a clue what he wanted to do in life, but it didn’t matter. The modern world was safe enough that his life wasn’t in danger from refusing to make a decision. Now that he was in the Rift, what he chose was important. Each path he took, every skill he leveled, and every choice he made was directly correlated with his survivability. 

Still, if the Archivist sent me here to learn this, it’s kind of a dick move. I have almost died more than once, and death remained an ever-present threat. The bastard took from me the ability to gain levels, earn a class, and survive easily. 

Maybe it was Hunter’s higher Intelligence, but he realized that there had to be more going on. His mind was making connections where previously there were none. The Archivist had to know the Rift Sentinel had been compromised in some way. Otherwise, why bother sending Hunter to investigate? The teenager felt like a pawn and a tool. He was a cheaply spent token. He had no value to the Heavenly Host, so they sent him to a Rift where at the very least he could collect information for them.

The actions of the Archivist didn’t speak to a loving and merciful God that was described in the monotheistic religions on earth. No, this was the Old Testament God of fire and brimstone. Hunter wasn’t comforted by the observation. If he succeeded in his quest within the Rift, it only meant that he might be worth more investment from the Archives. If he died, then no loss no foul on the part of the Heavenly Host.

Fuck that, he swore in his mind. 

He had struggled every step of the way in pursuit of power. He had tried to balance corruption against the strength it afforded him, and now he realized that the Archives were the same form of corruption with a different name. He would need to balance out their effects as well. That’s why his Faith had two values instead of just a positive and negative value.

Then that’s who I’ll be, he resolved. I’ll walk the Path in the middle that gives into neither. I’ll be my own person. I’ll make my own decisions.

If Hunter had started his journey as a genuinely neutral person, then that’s how he would choose to remain. He didn’t have to make a decision. It was a binary paradigm that left little for an individual to grow. It was important that he chose what he did because he wanted them and not because he was led to them like a lamb to the slaughter.

Hunter sighed aloud as he weighed his thoughts against his desires. Picking the middle Path would set him against both the Heavenly Host and the Infernal Horde. There was no guarantee that he would be able to survive their ire. The young warrior would have to convince either side that he was just on the cusp of converting until he gained enough power to resist both. Now that he had the damaged visage, it might give him the neutrality he needed. It was the strategy he pursued against greed. It would work just as well against the Archives.

I hope. 

The cracking of trees in the distance alerted Hunter that he wasn’t alone. He dismissed his troubled thoughts and focused on his surroundings. The teenager’s senses had been vastly improved with his points in Perception. It had saved him on more than one occasion. Not one to discard a plan that had worked in the past, Hunter crouched down and allowed his cloak to cover him. 

He peered into the gloom between the trees and waited for his next enemy. He sat there for a long moment and realized that whatever it was, it hadn’t chosen to exit the woods. Hunter scowled. He would need to enter the forest, and that was a daunting task. Even when he was killing the imps in the woods, he had been afraid of an ambush. Walking along the beaten trail was asking to be attacked, but at least he wasn’t impeded by trees and other obstructions. 

Sighing, Hunter stood up and ghosted his way past the tree line. Every step was smooth, and each footfall was silent. The warrior pulled his sword from its scabbard at his waist and summoned a fireball into his palm. He slowly fed the flames with a strand of his mana. He didn’t increase the fire’s size and chose to increase its density for lack of a better word. He wanted a projectile that would explode on contact and perhaps clear a field to battle in. Hunter relied on his maneuverability and his strategy of wearing down his opponents. The terrain within the forest was utterly antithetical to that approach.

Within minutes he caught up to the source of the noise. It was ghorum as Hunter had expected. The demon was still unaware of his presence, more occupied with its activity than its surroundings. Hunter crept closer, trying to get a better look at what the monster was doing. 

Oh, it’s eating.