Chapter 3

The forest around me loomed taller than the trees I was used to, each one thick enough that my arms couldn’t reach around it. Their swaying crests towered over me, high enough that standing between them and looking up gave the same sense of vertigo as looking up the side of a skyscraper. The forest thrived with birdsong and insects, far louder than I had ever imagined. I was never much of an outdoors kind of person, and my experience there was limited, but this forest seemed… much more alive than normal, the kind of deep and foreboding vibrant growth I imagined from fairy tales, forests untouched by the hand of man.

None of this took away from the fact that I stood, rooted to the spot, unwilling to step past the edge of the clearing. It was no external or magical source; quite the opposite. Fear pinned me in place like someone had driven stakes through my shoes, or cast my legs in concrete. Here I was, far from everything I’d ever know, somewhere entirely unfamiliar, still shuddering with the phantom pains of my repeated deaths. Somewhere along the line dying had stopped scaring me, comforted by the knowledge that I’d be back again if I made a mistake. The pain, however, was terrifying. In this place, death was not permanent, but wounds definitely hurt like Hell.

I looked around the clearing, one last time, hoping to catch sight of the gorgeous woman with the murderous eyes, and seeing nothing but the ruined bodies of the monsters, and the single crackling torch of the tree I had ignited. Confident that I could find my way back with the smoke as a guide, I turned and stepped into the forest without looking, determined to push past that first barrier, no matter how much it terrified me. I found my travel strangely unencumbered by the thick undergrowth I had expected to find, instead crowded by small, frail bushes, whose branches parted at my touch. I was so caught up in exploring my new surroundings that I paid little attention to where I was actually going. I glanced around, abruptly realizing that, in a handful of minutes, I had already become utterly lost. I looked behind myself at the winding trail of broken branches, seeming to fade in and out of view. I stared at the strange phenomenon for several long seconds, until I realized that the branches were actually knitting themselves back together, broken branches sprouting new joints at the break, fresh growth splitting off in new directions to seal the wounds. I was lost, absolutely cut off from any sign of my own passage, as the last branches knit themselves back together, closing around me into a vibrant, unbroken wall.

As if sensing my hesitation, a small prompt appeared before my eyes, the letters seemingly carved out of reality, crisp black even against the dappled backdrop of the forest around me.

Quest Gained

[Slay Beasts]

Slay ten beasts of the forest.

Reward: Choice of weapon.

I stared at the letters for several long seconds, until they began to fade. Slay beasts? Like, hunting? I looked around, hopelessly; I had never gone hunting before, and even experienced hunters sometimes could go a season without bringing home more than one or two deer. How was I supposed to slay ten?

The answer, it turns out, was easier than I expected. My noisy progress had not gone unmarked, and I heard a loud, angry snorting and braying coming from the direction I’d so recently passed. I couldn’t tell if they were following me by smell or by sound, but I still tried to remain as still as possible, hoping the sounds would fade. Much to my chagrin, the snorting, huffing growls came closer, the bushes near me beginning to shiver with the movement. I looked around me for any weapons close to hand, finding nothing but more of those frail branches, too weak to even scratch my skin or tear my robes. It took me several long seconds to override my merely human instincts and remember a far better weapon at my disposal.

I stared at the trembling bushes, where the sound of snorting emanated, looking for any sign of the beast within. I cupped my hand, trying to remember the sensation of the firebolt I’d cast before, willing the flames to take shape in my mind. I felt little flickers of heat as the fire began to form, but it guttered out after an instant. “Come on, come on,” I muttered, even that soft speech seeming to draw attention; the rooting stopped after a moment, and I heard loud snuffling pointed in my direction. “Come on, damnit,” I growled, looking down at my empty hand. Fear rooted me to the spot, dragging at my thoughts, the fear of the unseen beast and the unfamiliar environment robbing me of my certainty and focus. “Damnit, come on!” I snarled, and the bushes exploded with movement.

An immense boar-like creature, with four long, inwardly-curving tusks and muscles like a bodybuilder, large as a great Dane, erupted from the bushes with a squeal of murderous rage, a violence reflected in its’ four eyes, set in a band across its’ head like a spider. I screamed as it charged, and instinctually lashed out with a foot. Instead of my foot breaking, and then immediately being gored and murdered by the beast, its’ head whipped aside from the force of the impact, sending its’ charge careening off-target into a tree. The bark splintered under the impact, wood cracking like gunshots. Exulting in the sudden and unexpected victory, the flames whipped up within my hand as if fed by a bellows, and I threw it into the creature’s broad side, the flames eating through the flesh like a hot iron through wax. The squeal became one of agony for a moment, before it simply collapsed against the tree, one of its’ tusks still wedged into the heartwood.

I exulted in my success, looking down at my feet and the simple leather shoes that adorned them, amazed by my own strength. I glanced at my character sheet again, contemplating the title that had given me such an increase to my attributes… and realizing, for the first time, that those original numbers were probably my ‘human’ attributes. I was never the strongest guy, but I wasn’t exactly struggling to lift normal stuff; now my strength was more than double that. I looked at the frail bushes around me and snapped a branch with just a twist of my fingers, marveling at the way the wood simply tore and split with the barest effort. I walked over to the recently slain boar, and braced my foot against it, kicking it over as easily as if it had been half its’ size and weight. I gave it another hard kick, more out of lingering adrenaline than out of any real emotion, and accidentally caught the edge of my robes on one of the tusks. I pulled my leg away, trying not to tear the cloth, and accidentally grazed the inner edge of the tusk.

Bright, hot pain erupted as the blade-sharp inner edge cut across my calf, blood spilling from the wound. I cursed and snarled as I pulled my leg back, the cloth of the robe tearing raggedly as the tusk ripped through it. I looked around, trying to find something I could use to staunch the bleeding, when I realized that the small, fine cut had already started sealing at the ends. Confusion and amazement warred over my features as I watched the wound slowly close up, the flow of blood slowing until it stopped entirely. At which point I noticed another complication.

The branches around me had grown closer, as if drawn to me. The body of the boar was already becoming overgrown, creepers spreading over its’ body like small limbs, their ends wriggling into the hole my firebolt had made. I flinched as I felt the feather-light touch of leaves against my leg, one of the undergrowth creepers sliding up the trail of blood on my calf, toward where the cut had been. I crawled backward on my hands, pulling myself away from the tendril, and lashed out with a malformed whisper of flame; though it barely struck, the tendril immediately ignited, withering away in an instant.

The bushes visibly drew back, their nearest branches shifting away from me, leaving me suddenly in a clearing barely larger than myself, the nearest foliage just a couple of feet out of my reach. Were the bushes aware of what happened? I stared hard at them, confusion warring with fear, as the nearest branches began to tremble to one side. The rustling, shivering foliage kept me distracted just long enough for a handful of tendrils to whip out and wrap around my legs from behind me, yanking backward with enough force to make me stumble, and little more; against my old strength, I would’ve likely been pulled straight off my feet. I yanked against them, feeling the wood tearing away from the ground, and when I looked behind me at the offending bush, what I saw startled me.

The bush behind me had twisted itself, previously innocent-looking branches now coiling like a nest of serpents, the tendrils emerging from around the root of the bush. I dragged against them, even as more branches lashed out to grab onto me. I lifted a hand to conjure flames, and the vines wrapped around my wrist, pulling my arm down and squeezing my wrist like they were trying to rip my hand off entirely. I braced myself against the plant and heaved, stepping back as I pulled, feeling the roots giving way. A cicada-like sawing buzz emerged from the plant, the branches rustling together to make a bone-deep sound, as if it were a cry for help. The sound cut off abruptly as the ground gave way, the bush tearing free entirely. It thrashed around for a handful of seconds, before it withered with supernatural speed, leaving a small pit where it had nested.

The other bushes around me attacked in unison, trying to wrap around all of my limbs, lashing onto me from all directions. Some branches, smaller, and edged with thorns, gripped onto me and began sawing at me, dragging themselves back and forth with all the tenacity of a living chainsaw. Though they weren’t terribly sharp or durable, nonetheless they began to draw blood, carving lines of agony over my body. One wrapped itself around my throat, clutching tightly, struggling against my muscles, trying mercilessly to throttle me, with little success. I twisted my head to look down at my hand, willing the flames to ignite within it. Only sparks flickered and flared, drawing more of the plants to my hand, trying to pry my fingers apart or saw between them, cutting thin, bloody lines across my palm. I knew this creature could kill me, but it would be slow, agonizingly slow, cutting and sawing at me until it hit something vital enough for me to bleed out. I could imagine my wounds closing up beneath its’ vines, losing a little more blood each time as it carved me open.

Fear was slowly supplanted by rage. I pulled against the vines, and dug in my feet, biting down on my lip hard enough to draw blood – the flickering, thorn-edged tendril that came near my face, drawn to the blood, was a step too far. I pulled my arms inward, and screamed, feeling the way the air around me suddenly heated and split, roiling with flames. I could see the knife-thin slit in the air that the flames spilled out of, attacking like living creatures, bursting forth with heat and intensity that forced me to close my eyes. The branches wrapped around me ignited, burning away in tiny pops of sap and crackling wood, leaves withering and burning away in an instant. I tore free of the branches in couple of seconds, and they fell to ash around me. Several of the bushes burned, even as the one before me – the root-filled hole I had ripped a bush out of – erupted in movement, splitting to form two of the serpent-branched bushes. I lunged forward, grabbing onto the rapidly thickening wood where they joined, and willed flames into my hand.

The roots sizzled and popped as the fire rapidly spread below the ground, and several of the nearby bushes took up the cicada-like buzzing, rattling and shaking, serpentine branches sliding over each other in a frantic choir, before they each fell dead, one by one, tendrils of smoke pouring from their roots. Every bush within about fifty feet slowly withered away, crumbling after several seconds of smoldering, their frenetic writhing slowing to withering immobility.

It was only then I glanced up to the ‘corner’ of my vision, where I knew my notifications waited for me.

[Young Boarfiend slain. EXP Granted.]

[Slay Beasts: 1/10]

[Vampiric Hydra Bush slain. EXP Granted.]

[Level up! You are now level 7. +5 Free points gained from Race.]

Hydra bush? It made sense with the splitting branches; one branch is broken, two more grow. Creepy. ‘Vampiric’ must’ve meant that it liked to feed on blood. Speaking of which-

The boar was gone, now a pile of loose flesh and bones under a carpet of brittle creepers. Apparently the damn plant didn’t even count as a Beast for the quest. At least it did count as an enemy, and killing it did give me experience; if there had been no reward for slaying the thing, I would’ve been pissed. More pissed.

My robes were torn in several places, caked in blood around the edges of the cuts, though most were smaller than the ragged tear that ran from my right knee to the hem, where the boar’s sword-like tusk had sliced through it. Beneath the robes, there were a number of slender, winding scars where the tendrils had burned away, pressed into the wounds their thorns had torn into my skin. The scars didn’t hurt, but the knotted flesh was coarse to the touch, giving my limbs and throat the appearance of being wrapped in flesh-toned cord.

Nothing to be done for it now, I guess. I frowned, pulling the robe closed as best I could, trying to settle it around myself more comfortably. I had work to do.