[CORBIN FOREST]
“Y-young man...! Slow down!” cried Tanner.
The middle-aged man was chasing after a much younger one, breathing hard and clutching his sword.
Cain was up in front, barely paying attention to his feet. For some reason, he knew that all he had to pay attention to were his hands. He hopped over a root that tripped the man chasing him, bounced off a tree branch, caught the air on two more, and was in the perfect position to line up his shot.
Bron had a spare bow lying around that he had borrowed for the hunt. There were only a few arrows in the quiver but Bron had let him know that he could acquire a few more if he wanted for free by asking the other hunters.
The hunt was a team effort after all.
He suspected from the status screen that monsters wouldn’t be a problem for him. At the very least, even if his aim was horrible he could help herd the blue lizards in the right direction with his limitless stamina. It would be okay if he sucked, but...
Rather, his aim was devastating.
When he brought up his arms with an arrow locked, it was almost as if the world capitulated. The colours drained out of his view, all except for his target.
Time slowed. He could even visualize a target reticle, floating over the face of the panicking blue lizard.
He could see its icy breath. Its every muscle swelling and deflating as it engaged its body to escape from its hunters. The disturbed leaves fell with crystal clarity. Everything went at a fraction of the speed they were supposed to go.
He moved the reticle over the lizard’s eye -- No, a little further so as to account for travel distance -- and let go.
The arrow flew, and everything returned to normal.
THUNK!
The blue lizard let out a death wail, and slumped to the ground. The arrow had pierced its skull.
As Tanner finally caught up to Cain, the young man jumped out of the tree he was in. He hadn’t even noticed that he had climbed it - it just seemed like the natural place to shoot from.
Tanner’s face was a combination of shock and awe.
“Young man... Cain...” he said as he caught his breath. “I’m sorry. When Bron told us you were going to be tagging along, I don’t think we showed you the respect you deserved. I’ve never seen such a master hunter! We didn’t know. We didn’t know!”
“To be fair,” said Cain with a grin. “Neither did we.”
Tanner stared in confusion as Cain strolled over to collect their trophy.
He was learning more about his body and the way it moved now.
It was strange when he first started the hunt. There were times when it felt like he wasn’t quite in control of himself, as if his muscles were listening to something else.
Disconcerting to say the least. But soon he started getting a handle on it.
Sure, his limbs got away from him, but the thing is they still moved according to his will. If he wanted to get somewhere, they would go there - but far more efficiently and elegantly than he could on his own. He had experimented earlier; attempting to climb a steep hill cliff had failed manually, but when he engaged this strange sensation he had managed to make it to the top in three steps.
His mind flashed back to last night. Without the ability to rest, he had been fiddling around with the status window some more, attempting to see if there was anything he was missing.
But his eyes were constantly drawn toward a specific line on his status screen.
[SYSTEMS ACTIVATED:]
-CONTROL SCHEME-
At the time, he couldn’t figure it out, but now he suspected.
Game characters didn’t move the way human beings did. Hitting up on your control pad meant your character would attempt to move up, and in some games the character would move according to context. Up against a small gap meant the character would do a hop; up against a wall meant the character would attempt to scale it.
Was that what was happening here?
He remembered the reticle that appeared in his mind’s eye whenever he notched the arrow. ADS - Aiming Down Sights. A common thing in FPS games, or even third-person shooters.
He had never shot a gun in his life before, but now he felt that if somebody were to hand him a pistol at this very moment, he’d be able to snipe out a flying bird half a kilometre away.
The thought was somewhat alarming.
What did this imply?
He looked around the clearing. This was where they were gathering the blue lizard bodies. Eleven large corpses, six of which had been felled by him with one arrow each. He was out of arrows now, but definitely not out of achievements.
“Give him your arrows, Rey! We all know he’d make better use of them!”
Raucous laughter. Reymond didn’t seem to mind, kindly sharing half of his quiver with Cain. He had been the first one to acknowledge Cain’s contributions and praise his name. Cain smiled awkwardly back.
“When we make it back to town tonight,” said the man, only slightly older than Cain but with a far more impressive musculature. He had a true archer’s body. “You won’t pay for a single drink. Everybody, hail Corbin Village’s Master Hunter!”
Cain blushed as everybody else in the clearing started chanting his name.
If he was controlling like a game character... Was he in a game? He looked around at the people around him. Their expressions and imperfections. The texture of the grass. The light breeze caressing his cheek. The slight smell of iron, emanating from the corpses of the blue lizards on the ground.
It seemed far too realistic.
“The haul’s good enough, but...” Tanner trailed off.
“There are a lot of them wandering around outside of their nest,” agreed Reymond. “That means it’s packed in there, huh.”
“Yep. We could do it ourselves if it’s a smaller nest, but that’s starting to look less and less feasible,” said Tanner. He was the oldest of the group, and therefore took easy charge. “The worry now is that the nest is big enough for a Dire to have taken charge.”
The group’s demeanour soured. Cain looked around.
“If there’s a Dire...” sighed another man, Jaime. He had felled two of the blue lizards by himself with his trusty spear. “Then the only answer is to petition the Flagknights, huh.”
“We can’t be expected to take care of it ourselves,” agreed Tanner.
Reymond nodded.
“We’re going to have to let everybody know to stay inside the village gates. A week or two until the Flags come and wipe it out won’t be too bad.”
Cain looked at the blue lizard carcasses that had been tossed on the wagon they brought, pondering. Reymond caught his eye and shook his head.
“Don’t. It’s not worth it,” said the older archer.
And just like that, the hunting expedition ended. They didn’t push on any further than they needed to.
Safety first.
[CORBIN VILLAGE - Bron’s House]
[CAIN THOMPSON]
[LEVEL 1]
[EXP - 24/100]
[JOB CLASS: NONE]
[HP 100/100]
[MP 50/50]
[STRENGTH] - 13
[DEXTERITY] - 11
[CONSTITUTION] - 10
[INTELLIGENCE] - 11
[WISDOM] - 13
[SPEED] - 12
[LUCK] - 14
[SYSTEMS ACTIVATED:]
-CONTROL SCHEME-
Cain tapped away at the status screen absent-mindedly. EXP; that had to be experience points.
He had gone from 0 to 24 - a pretty large jump. Considering that he had taken down six blue lizards that day, it seemed as though they were worth 4 EXP each.
Were those good numbers? It was hard to tell. If they had raided the blue lizard nest, maybe he would’ve levelled up by now. He didn’t know what a Dire was, but maybe he would’ve been able to kill it with his abilities?
He sighed. No way to tell.
The celebration when they had gotten back had been a pretty good one. Not exactly a feast, but they had gone to the houses of one of the women who had gone on the expedition, Sarina. Her husband was a mean cook, and they ate their fill. As promised, Cain paid not a single coin for his drinks.
The bodies of the blue lizards had been taken apart and stripped for their materials, which were apparently worth some money. They had agreed before the expedition to split the shares evenly, although everybody was a little embarrassed when they tallied it all up considering how uneven Cain’s contributions had been. The young man had single-handedly taken out more than half the total tallied.
He didn’t mind. They were the ones who allowed an unproven wanderer into the group on Bron’s word alone, so he wanted to pay them back a little. Also, if hunting were a viable career path, he suspected that he wouldn’t want for money as long as he had a bow and enough arrows.
The buyer of the beast corpses was the village elder, Emett Corbin.
He had met the man for the first time when they presented the blue lizard corpses to the man in the village square. He did not come off as sternly as Bron and Miss Corbin had somehow led him to believe. The man was dressed well, and had a scribe with him. The laugh lines on his face made it clear the man broke into smiles easily.
He seemed just shy of nobility in the way of his bearing, but despite that greeted them warmly and respectfully - fully appreciative of the efforts of his village hunters. It seemed he had been informed of Cain’s presence and peculiarity, as his glance lingered on Cain’s eyes for only a split second before moving on.
A brief discussion regarding the nest had occurred after Reymond had returned. He had not left with the rest of the expedition. As the best scout in the village he had been tasked with observing the nest.
“Larger than originally reported. It’s way more than what we could be expected to handle on our own. I didn’t spot a Dire, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one. This is a job for the Flags.”
Emett Corbin nodded, and within an hour Jaime had been sent off with a scroll sealed with wax. He was the fastest rider they had, and was on his way to the south. The terrain was treacherous, considering how high up they were, but a son of Corbin Village knew all the twists and turns by heart.
Merdasa was the closest city; and the only location within the Ermire Province to host an Order of the Waving Flag location.
[MERDASA]
Muse sat with her knees in front of him on a rooftop, enjoying the evening breeze. Webby was relaxing beside her, having made a little hammock of webbing.
She rubbed her ankles. She had left the Silver Seat the hour after she had received her mission from the Grandmaster of the Black Lamp, and spared no expense relying on the Windmother’s gales to move north. Far faster than horses could hope to be, maybe, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.
She had asked around at every human habitat she had come across on her way north. The people were friendly enough, she supposed, for people who probably weren’t used to dealing with orcs. Her green skin and little fangs had drawn some attention, and not always of the nice kind.
No hits, though. Nobody had any information regarding black eyes.
Actually, scratch that. Black eyes were pretty common. There was a man who approached her a little too easily and attempted to touch her long ears. She gave him a pair.
But not these black eyes.
She sighed. There was the definite possibility that she would find nothing at all, but she had to do her due diligence. She would stay in Merdasa a few days and make the rounds. As the trading hub of Ermire Province, information flowed here the way goods did.
She looked to the sky, where stationary kites waved in the distance, attached to the roofs of the city through string.
Music drifted up into her long ears from a pub downstairs; there seemed a bard was in attendance. She had wondered why they all seemed to be in good spirits in this city, until she realized that her own order had participated in a campaign to eliminate the greatest bandit threat Ermire had ever known just two months ago.
The campaign that she had missed out on. Because she was out surveying.
The joviality of the city was starting to get on her nerves a little, but she rubbed her temples to get them out. Her concerns were mild compared to the relief that the citizenry felt from no longer having to worry about robberies and murders every time they left the city gates. No point in being childish and resentful.
“Let’s go, Webby! We’re going to the Adventurer’s Guild.”
Webby opened his eyes, and eagerly shuffled his way onto her shoulder. She looked around, confirmed her target, and jumped over the building before her with a burst of wind before breaking into a sprint at a speed that would leave champion horses in the dust.
She was really going to need a foot massage after this.
[NORTHERN RANGE - Mountain Base]
Milverton McDougal was a veteran.
A former member of the Waving Flags, he had been no squire, but a true knight, proudly serving in the Third Legion of the Flags when the nation of Greater Goethia went to war against the barbarians in the south.
The conflict had ended in a truce, with no clear winner, but McDougal had served with distinction. He had even been awarded a medal by the king, Solomon VII, to commemorate his valour.
The amount that he had been paid wasn’t enough - he needed more. By that time, he had tired of the army, and having proven his leadership capabilities and skill in battle to himself, deserted. If they were not going to reward him with the material he deserved, he’d find another path.
Having graduated from being a pawn, he too had grown weary of being a knight. He wanted a king’s crown for his own.
It only took him five years to go from nothing to becoming the greatest bandit lord in the Ermire Province.
Other bandit groups either submitted to him, or were destroyed. He spent his days taking what he wanted and enjoying his ill-gotten gains; cleaving heads with his war axe when they dared disrespect him. Of course, few did.
There were enough stories of the red-haired reaper, of his blood-stained axe, and his magic that could sink one into the depths of the earth where none would ever find their corpse.
He was the leader of the Red Riders. He was strong.
So when he heard rumblings that the Iron Bars were finally coming after him, he was not afraid.
A filthy little order, hiding in the shadows of the other four (Occulted Moon not included, as nobody knew what they did). How could they possibly think to subjugate the Red Beast of Ermire?
McDougal had the arrogance kicked out of him in short order.
For when the Iron Bars claimed bandit extermination was their forte, it wasn’t a boast. It was simply a statement of fact.
Agile units that knew the land better than any other order. A multitude of contractors with Aerachnid, the Windmother. They had run rings around them and smashed their bandit camps with ease. Whenever McDougal went to the scene of an attack, the Iron Bars were gone with the wind. It was as if they were using bandit strategies against the bandit themselves.
That wouldn’t have been enough on its own. If the Iron Bars specialized in guerilla warfare, then he would just bunker up with the rest of his gang in his stronghold in the caverns. It was a slow siege, but they were hanging in there. The Iron Bars could not breach their gates, but neither could the Red Riders replenish their supplies easily. It was looking to be a long-drawn out campaign.
At least, that’s what he thought, until his men spotted the flags on the horizon.
The extermination of the Red Riders had been a joint operation between the Waving Flags and the Iron Bars. Something that never happened, except in this one case of a Flag deserter changing careers into becoming a bandit lord.
He supposed he brought it upon himself, but never did he think the orders capable of putting aside their petty bickering for once to actually do something effective.
Flagknights smashed in from the front, and Barknights appeared from the back. The bandits were thoroughly routed. He had left behind his body double to take the blame, and his most loyal henchmen were left to bleed out on the floor. Hundreds now reduced to less than two dozen. That had been two months ago, and they still had not recovered.
A wreck of a bandit gang. Twenty men nursing wounds and scars. Bruised, hurt, and hungry.
But fire still burned within Milverton McDougal’s eyes.
He was moving with purpose.
He was here for a reason.
Up the mountain was Corbin Village. They’d be able to make it by morning light.
