《Pathfinders》 Chapter 1 The sun peeked between countless skyscrapers which reached into the clouds. Long shadows darkened the street level of the downtown metropolis. Neon signs illuminated the entrances of otherwise dimly lit storefronts but also accented the thin layer of smog at ground level. Crowds of people bustled along the sidewalks. Some were returning home to towering apartment complexes while others headed to late-night workplaces. Hologram overlays generated by cranial implants hovered in front of the faces of many. Among the crowd, Owen Watts followed the flow of people. He yawned while recalling his long day of work as the manager of the largest martial arts facility in the city. Despite how stressful the clients acted today due to a malfunction in the punching bag used for calculating punch and kick force, he had left behind his worries there. Now, with the appeal of his soft bed only a few minutes away, the stress was no more than water off his back. Once he reached the astonishingly tall apartment building which contained his humble flat, he beelined for the elevator and pressed the ¡®14¡¯ button on the holographic display. Just as the doors began closing, a young couple called out to hold the doors. He caught the door, but his bum shoulder felt uncomfortable due to the abnormally quick rotation of the joints. Despite the dull throbbing, he smiled and nodded politely toward the couple. ¡°Thank you,¡± the man said, nodding in return. He had a sharp face and looked to be of Asain descent. The blond Caucasian woman by his side also nodded without saying anything. ¡°Which floor?¡± Owen asked. ¡°Fourteen.¡± ¡°Eh? We¡¯re on the same floor. What a surprise.¡± Both the man and woman raised their brows at the same time. Owen inwardly sighed at the sight of a couple living on the same wavelength. Luckily, as the elevator lurched upward, the man halted Owen¡¯s self-aggrandizing speculation by asking, ¡°That¡¯s quite a coincidence. Did you move in recently?¡± ¡°It¡¯s been about two years now. Surprised we¡¯ve never met.¡± ¡°Wow. We¡¯ve lived here for three years.¡± ¡°Name¡¯s Owen. You?¡± ¡°Sora. This is my wife, Irene.¡± The woman, who had a rather cute face for someone in their twenties, waved and greeted Owen with a curt, ¡°Hello.¡± Sora reached out for a handshake while bowing slightly. Owen obliged. Unfortunately, a strong static current caused him to recoil slightly. ¡°Ah, sorry, did I shock you?¡± Sora asked. Owen coughed embarrassedly and, pretending it never happened, shook Sora''s hand while saying, ¡°Glad to make your acquaintance.¡± A beep sounded out, and a gender-neutral electronic voice informed them that they had reached the fourteenth floor, although it was technically the thirteenth since buildings in this area skipped the ¡®13¡¯ due to long-held superstitions. Sora and Irene then parted ways with Owen since their apartment was apparently located at the opposite end of the long hallway. For a moment, Owen watched the couple with scrupulous eyes, but quickly pushed their naive happiness out of his mind. Then, he purchased a honey and ginseng flavored green tea from the vending machine near the elevator before heading down the hall toward his own apartment. He spun the can in his hand while walking to the door. Two steps before reaching the door, he clicked open the lid, took a sip, and then stared into the eye-scanner to unlock the door. It was the same exact pacing as every other day after work. As soon as he stepped onto the tile beyond the door, he slipped off his shoes and set them on the wooden shoe rack built into the wall. He quickly locked the door behind him. He didn¡¯t even have to look to perform the actions after doing the same exact thing five days a week for two years. From there, he wandered over to his bedroom. While sipping his tea, he glanced over at the pile of dirty clothes in the corner and made a mental note to do the laundry on his next day off. He then shoved that thought into the back of his mind and plopped down at his desk in order to catch up on all the videos his favorite creators posted while he was at work. One video covered the topic of primitive technology, one was a mediocre comedy sketch which reminded him of some of his friends from his school days, and the rest were all closed beta livestreams of the technical miracle and smash-hit VRMMORPG, Pathwalkers. The game earned a quick and massive following after its announcement a year ago by an entertainment company which appeared almost out of nowhere. The company, called Cloudgate, set the release date to a week from today, but many famous streamers received codes to test out the closed beta. Although Owen couldn¡¯t afford the Cloudgate capsule required for the jump into the virtual world that the game delivered, he could vicariously live the experience through these streamers¡¯ eyes. These evenings were the only part of the day where he could truly open up and smile to his heart¡¯s content. Unfortunately, it never lasted long enough, and the clock quickly struck midnight. With a sigh, he shut down his PC and tossed the empty tea can into the trash bucket by the door. He stripped down into his boxer briefs and prepared to jump into bed, only for his eyes to land on the picture frames atop the bookshelf. Normally, he paid no attention to them. Why would they catch his eye now of all times? Despite the lump in his throat, he pulled down one of the frames, dusted it off, and looked at the people in the picture. He caressed the wooden frame while staring blankly at the smiling faces of the young people in their graduation gowns. Thomas, the mellow musician; Dale, the offbeat engineer; Kara, the crazy art enthusiast; Aimee and Alyssa the playful genius twins; Brad, the strategist behind all their hijinks; and finally, himself. For several minutes, he stood there with the photo in his hand. It had been taken only a few weeks before his scheduled wedding with Aimee. Those days felt like no more than a wishful dream now, though he would never go back even if he had the chance. It wasn¡¯t worth reliving all of the events that took place only a few weeks after the photo was taken. Losing both Aimee, the woman who once stole his heart, and Brad, the close friend who seduced her and took her from him, to reckless airship flying only a few days before the wedding was but a distant memory now. After what felt like hours, he returned the photo to its home atop the dusty bookshelf with a forlorn sigh. He breathed deeply in order to keep the distant memories in the past rather than bog down his mind with them in the present. With that, he closed his eyes and leaned backward onto the bed. ¡°...¡± For some reason, pain coursed through his back as soon as he landed on a hard surface. Wasn¡¯t the bed harder than normal? And what were these thin and smooth tendrils poking the bare skin of his back, legs, and arms? He opened his eyes. Then, he immediately closed his eyes. Those bright white dots which coated his ceiling looked like the starry skies he had seen in the past before moving to a big city filled with smog, pollution, and artificial lighting. That couldn¡¯t be right, though. It must have been a dream. Then again, thinking that this was a dream convinced him that he wasn¡¯t dreaming. Once again, he opened his eyes, and the starry sky greeted him again. ¡°Stars¡­ and¡­ this is grass?¡± Owen sat up and looked around. Trees similar to oaks and willows with leaves which glowed light blue in the night surrounded him in every direction. Lush grass tickled his skin. An owl cooed with an eerie spine-tingling voice nearby, yet it remained out of sight. Everything looked eerily familiar. ¡°Isn¡¯t this what the forest near Raylea looks like?¡± Right. It looked exactly like the Barkstone Forest located outside the starting city Raylea from the popular game, Pathwalkers, yet the graphics went beyond anything he could have imagined after watching streams on a simple monitor. In fact, this went beyond graphics. It looked more real than reality. ¡°So, am I in Legauria? No way, right? Haha... ha..." Owen frowned as he tried to process his situation. He could only assume that some burglar broke into his house to throw him into a dive capsule, or that he somehow ended up in the actual world of Pathwalkers. His full lucidity caused him to cast away any thought that he could be dreaming. Perhaps this truly was the world within Pathwalkers... Then, he glanced at his bare legs and pursed his lips. The only thing on his person was the boxer briefs he had been wearing. ¡°Is this some sort of joke? Or a prank by an angry deity?¡± Owen asked while lifting an emotionless gaze to the sky. ¡°If there¡¯s some sort of god or something that sent me here, couldn¡¯t you at least have given me some clothes? Or something to defend myself with?¡± Silence was his answer. In response, he sighed and lowered his gaze to the moist forest soil beneath his bare feet. Lush blades of grass tickled his toes. It was an unfamiliar sensation after living in a dense metropolis for so long. A vision of angel hair passed through his mind as he wiggled his toes through the grass. Sighing, he whispered to himself, ¡°I wonder if Grandpa is okay¡­¡± The statement caused him to think about all the things left unfinished back home. If he had known this would happen, then he would have tried to make things right with the friends and family he had grown apart from, especially his grandpa. The old man sacrificed so much to finish raising him after the accident... With that, his memory arrived at the graves of his parents and siblings. Deep sorrow and guilt seized his heart at the vivid image. His face scrunched up and his fists clenched tight. He could still see his mother¡¯s bloodsoaked face smiling at him as though to say it wasn¡¯t his fault, not that it ever convinced him. Like any other time the bad memories came back to haunt him, he breathed in deeply through his nose before releasing a long sigh. The memories slowly faded into the back of his mind as he refocused on his surroundings.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. Scratching his chin, he gave up worrying about how he ended up here and instead decided to search for somewhere safe to sleep. After all, he was still exhausted. On top of that, he didn¡¯t know which section of the Barkstone Forest he was in, if it was even the Barkstone Forest at all. Encountering wild monsters in his current state would likely be a death sentence, considering the power system of the game, and he didn¡¯t have any interest in dying today. Even if the revive system somehow applied to him, testing it didn¡¯t sound like a good idea at all. While worrying about the situation, something slammed into the dirt inches away from him. Dirt exploded in a small radius around the point of impact. He immediately jumped away and lifted his fists to defend himself. Normally, the sudden movement would have sent pain through his shoulder, but it felt fine. Instead of focusing on his old injury, though, he stared at the cloud of dust and waited for it to settle. When it cleared, he saw a sheathed shortsword embedded in the dirt. It was about the length of his forearm and vaguely reminded him of an ancient Japanese sword. A small crater had spread around it as though it had fallen from the sky like a meteorite. Steam rose from the nondescript black sheath as if to prove such a theory. Curiosity drove him to gaze toward the stars. Then his brows furrowed since the stars directly above him were blotted out. Something else was falling. A minute later, a dark blue blanket plopped on the grass next to the blade. Owen couldn¡¯t help raising a brow. Why did a blanket and sword fall from the sky? Don¡¯t tell me it¡¯s because of what I said a couple minutes ago... Since the items would at least aid in his current situation, Owen carefully approached them. He gently poked both to make sure neither posed any danger. Unfortunately, no other way of checking for danger crossed his tired mind. As it turned out, both were perfectly safe, though the sword was warm to the touch due to its rapid descent through the atmosphere. Without further ado, he picked up both items. {You have obtained Mirage Blanket!} {You have obtained Owen¡¯s Wakizashi!} Owen¡¯s brows wrinkled in confusion. ¡°Uh¡­ What? Screens? I really am in the game?¡± Although he was already stunned by the strange translucent screens, he suddenly received even bigger surprises. {An enchantment on the Mirage Blanket has been transferred to your boxer briefs.} And...
??Hidden Quest?? Description: Congratulations! You have been selected as a Pathfinder Candidate! Pursue the great honor of becoming a Pathfinder, a being who locates and guards the paths between worlds as well as prepares worlds for inevitable invasion. Since you will face harsh trials, you will receive as many stat points as a person with a Legendary Class for leveling up. As an addition, your body has been forcefully reverted to its best physical state. Living as a Pathfinder requires strength! Obtain the strength you require through adversity! There is no time limit on this quest. This quest is mandatory. Difficulty: SSS+ Clear Conditions: Reach Level 100 without dying; Clear all trials Clear Reward: Mythic Sub-Class: Pathfinder Fail Conditions: Death; Following the evil path Fail Penalty: N/A upon death; Death sentence from the Pathfinder Council if following the evil path
{This quest cannot be rejected or canceled. The quest has been accepted.} Even before falling into this world, he had been struggling to keep his eyes open due to exhaustion, but now, he was blinking to make sure he had read the screen correctly. His eyes were not playing tricks on him. It really said ¡®Pathfinder¡¯. Although he knew little about the deep lore of the game, he absolutely knew about the Pathfinders. In the trailers for the game, they had been mentioned as the ones who opened the way for the Pathwalkers, which were the players, to travel to a distant world through the lens of an avatar and aid the people against countless evils. In other words, he had been sent here in order to become one of those mysterious beings who opened the paths? Wasn¡¯t this unbelievable? On top of that, his body was forcefully reverted? What did that imply? Unfortunately, the windows suddenly faded away. His brows wrinkled since he didn¡¯t get around to reading the success and failure requirements. ¡°Um¡­ shouldn¡¯t there be a log or something?¡± he mumbled to himself. Puffs of warm air floated from his mouth as he spoke but quickly evaporated. However, he didn¡¯t notice the nippy night air since he was looking around for the transparent HUD which always showed up for streamers, albeit to no avail. After thinking about it, he spoke the voice command players could use as an alternative, ¡°Open Quest Log.¡± A rectangular screen with the word ¡®Quest¡¯ written at the top in fancy bold print popped into view. All he could do was stare at the single quest in the list in the hopes that it would open somehow. Apparently, just staring was enough. Once again, the quest details popped into view, but this time, he studied them properly. He forgot about the weight of the blanket and sword clenched firmly in his grasp upon realizing the severity of the quest details. At the very least, this quest would transpire over the course of several years, if not decades. Dismissing the window with the voice command, ¡°Exit¡±, Owen pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. A contradictory mixture of anxiousness and excitement bubbled within him. On one hand, he worried about everything left behind on Earth, while on the other, he anticipated crazy adventures here like the ones in the streams he always watched. The only worrying aspect of the hidden quest itself was the requirement to not die before reaching Level 100. Such a high requirement cooled his heated heart. Or maybe shivering under the influence of the chilly nighttime air allowed reality to set in. Focusing on finding a safe place to sleep became his number one priority. The new blanket would at least stave off some of the midnight chill, too. Pursing his lips, he stared at the soft blanket which looked like it had been pulled straight off the shelf of a modern department store. As he stared at the blanket, another window startled him by popping into view unexpectedly.
Mirage Blanket Grade: Unique Description: A fuzzy blanket mercifully gifted to Owen Watts by the Pathfinder who chose him as a Pathfinder Candidate. It was crafted by the greatest Tailor among the Pathfinders and enchanted by the greatest Enchanter among the Pathfinders. Enchantments: Spotless - Will never become dirtied no matter the circumstances; Indestructible - Will never tear, wear out, or lose durability. Although indestructible, it cannot prevent direct damage to the wearer''s body. Attributes: Defense +1; Enter the Inconspicuous state when fully wrapped around your person. (The Inconspicuous state is a passive stealth state which can cause living creatures to overlook you when not explicitly searching for you. It can also cause any being that notices you to quickly lose interest in you. Effectiveness decreases proportional to movement. ) Durability: ¡Þ Restrictions: None
Owen¡¯s hands shook as he read the blanket¡¯s description. ¡°Wow¡­ Isn¡¯t this a really good item? It completely solves the issue of sleeping safely. Then¡­ the sword?¡± Since he didn¡¯t know exactly how to activate the item description screen, he simply stared at the sheathed blade in the hopes that a screen would pop up. After a few seconds, one did.
Owen¡¯s Wakizashi Grade: Common (Growth) Description: Owen''s Wakizashi was a blade granted to him as a pity gift by the Pathfinder who chose him as a Pathfinder Candidate. It was crafted by the greatest Blacksmith among the Pathfinders and inscribed with a growth-type inscription by the greatest Runemaster among the Pathfinders. It will grow along with the wielder. There is a hidden function, but you do not have the ability to see what it is. It may take on a name of its own if it is allowed to grow. Attributes: Attack +7; Self-Repair (Low) Durability: 70/70 Restrictions: Owen Watts
Owen¡¯s hands shook even more. Although the weapon in its current state was nothing to write home about, or even a staff which he was most familiar with, growth-type items in games usually paid off in the long run. Some were worth more than his yearly income in some of the games he used to play. Even if the description mentioned that the items were given out of pity, he felt thankful that he had received anything at all. Perhaps the Pathfinders cared about his safety¡­ at least a little. ¡°Ah, didn¡¯t my briefs get something too?¡± Without further ado, he stared at his crotch until another window appeared.
Blessed Briefs Grade: Unique Description: Boxer briefs which Owen Watts was wearing when chosen as a Pathfinder Candidate. It was mass produced in a factory on Earth but the greatest Enchanter among the Pathfinders enchanted it out of pity since Owen owned no other clothes after being selected as a Pathfinder Candidate on short notice. Enchantments: Spotless - Will never become dirtied no matter the circumstances; Indestructible - Will never tear, wear out, or lose durability. Although indestructible, it cannot prevent direct damage to the wearer''s body. Attributes: Defense +1
Somehow, Owen did not receive as much shock from the description. Of course, the number of confirmed Unique grade items on the Pathwalkers forums a few hours earlier was only seven, so owning two of them plus a growth-type item was unheard of. Apparently, all of that would revert to zero upon official launch, so his would be the only one at that point unless there were others like himself. Item grades started with Common, which were as easy to find as a blade of grass in a forest, then Uncommon, Rare, Epic, Unique, and finally, Legendary, of which not even traces had been found yet. In the end, though, items were just that: items. They were tools. Tools did not guarantee success. They only made success more realistic. Owen knew that all too well. A sudden yawn came over him, and he mumbled to himself, ¡°I guess I¡¯ll find somewhere to curl up in this snazzy blanket, then.¡± Chapter 2 Back on Earth the morning after Owen opened his eyes in the world of Pathwalkers, a group of six people sat around a circular table in a well-lit penthouse office of Cloudgate¡¯s main building. Each of the members wore formal suits and dresses since this was a professional meeting of the heads of each department. However, none of them wore such clothing in their previous professions. A wide-shouldered bear of a man sat at the head of the table. His neatly-ironed black suitcoat clung tightly to his shoulders. Bulging muscles caused wrinkles to form there. Sunlight from a nearby window glowed atop the dark skin of his bald scalp. The man stared at his watch while tapping the table with his forefinger. As soon as his watch struck 7:59 A.M., he stopped tapping his finger and asked, ¡°Why is Sora always the last one to arrive?¡± To the man¡¯s right, a blonde haired, blue eyed woman who sat with perfect posture from the moment she arrived twenty minutes ago calmly answered, ¡°Sir Gregory, if you don¡¯t mind me saying, his idea of being early is to be barely on time.¡± Gregory¡¯s eye twitched, but he otherwise refrained from speaking his mind about how true the statement was. Since Sora was a friend and comrade, there was no need to get any more irritated by the laidback rogue¡¯s sense of time. Right then, as the hands of the analog clock struck eight o¡¯ clock, the mirrored glass door to the meeting room swung open. A young-looking man with observable oriental features aside from his height confidently strutted into the room. He held a cup of coffee in one hand, but the other was stuffed inside the pocket of his neatly pressed black pants. ¡°Mornin¡¯ friends,¡± Sora greeted them with a wide grin. Aside from Gregory, the others all returned the greeting. Gregory himself sighed and asked, ¡°Would it hurt to arrive a little earlier?¡± Pretending to be shocked, Sora raised his pocketed hand up over his mouth in dramatic fashion and retorted, ¡°How could it not hurt?¡± Veins bulged from Gregory¡¯s forehead at the retort, but he refrained from continuing the conversation. The playful rogue always had comebacks for days. ¡°Seriously, though,¡± Sora said while setting his coffee on the table where his seat was, ¡°there¡¯s no point showing up early. Running a company isn¡¯t our main job.¡± A thin black haired man with a neatly trimmed mustache and deadpan eyes next to Sora nodded in agreement. Perhaps it was because he was the lone mage in the group, but he never liked following rules. Noticing the man¡¯s subtle nod, Sora grinned and said, ¡°See? Even Noris agrees.¡± Gregory pinched the bridge of his nose and forced himself to overlook the antics of their youngest member. Instead, he jumped right into the main topic of today¡¯s meeting. ¡°Sora, today¡¯s meeting was called because of the new Pathfinder Candidate.¡± ¡°Ah, yes. Fine young man, he is.¡± ¡°Very,¡± came a seductive voice from across the table. The woman who spoke had the appearance of a well-endowed woman in her thirties. Silky black hair long enough to reach her waist cascaded over the back of her office chair. Bright golden eyes full of life and vitality looked upward as she envisioned snagging another young man into her grasp. A tight-fitting white blouse and black skirt accented her voluptuous curves which she proudly showed off, much to the chagrin of the other two women and the men who were already romantically involved. ¡°Please stop, Sister Wuya,¡± Sora pleaded, growing anxious at the sight of the woman yearning for yet another of the candidates, ¡°You¡¯re old enough to be his grandmother.¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°So? That¡¯s what makes it so interesting.¡± The others could only sigh at the instant reply. In order to get back on topic, Gregory pressed a button on the table. Holographic displays showed the forty-nine candidates. The biggest one was Owen¡¯s, since his situation needed to be covered first. ¡°First of all, Sora,¡± Gregory firmly spoke, ¡°if you hadn¡¯t procrastinated on choosing your seventh candidate for so long, we wouldn¡¯t have to go through all this mess.¡± Sora leaned back in his chair, shrugged, and replied, ¡°Had to make sure he¡¯d be a good choice.¡± ¡°You chose him right after meeting him, though¡­¡± the blonde sitting next to Gregory muttered in near monotone. ¡°What can I say? My wife thought he was a nice person.¡± The blonde winced at the mention of Sora¡¯s wife, but the gesture was so small it nearly went unnoticed. Nearly. ¡°Please stay on track,¡± Gregory chided. Once everyone focused on him, he said, ¡°What¡¯s done is done. Although we sent him those small compensation gifts after Sora sent out his message last night, the kid is woefully unprepared.¡± ¡°He¡¯s a grown man, though,¡± Wuya commented, sporting a sly grin. ¡°Please, Sister Wuya,¡± Gregory said. Unfortunately, that was as far as he could berate her due to her status. ¡°Go on.¡± Gregory sighed, but then casted a woeful gaze toward Sora as he continued, ¡°Since Sora waited to pick him until the very last moment, Owen did not receive the same preparation as the others. My suggestion is that we give one of the other candidates a quest to show him the ropes.¡± Before any of the others could speak, an elderly-looking gentleman sitting opposite the blonde leaned forward to partake in the conversation for the first time. The others focused on him due to his status as the most experienced member. ¡°As I see it, you have two options. One, you can hold his hand like all the others. Or, since we already gave him multiple gifts rather than one, just let him grow on his own. That¡¯s how they did it back when I was a candidate. Perhaps we could see something akin to the legends of old. They didn¡¯t even have a help system for candidates back then.¡± Wuya smiled and said, ¡°That could be good. He may just turn into an even finer specimen because of it.¡± ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we do something, though?¡± the blonde girl asked, brows furrowed out of concern for the new candidate who would only suffer because of a certain someone¡¯s procrastination. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Claire. I think he¡¯ll be fine,¡± Sora nonchalantly added. ¡°How could you say that about your own candidate?¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t fall for him like Sister Wuya, did~ you?¡± ¡°Of course not. How could you care so little about him, though?¡± Sora crossed his arms, closed his eyes, and nodded to himself as he answered, ¡°It¡¯s called tough love.¡± All of a sudden, Noris smirked and interjected, ¡°Aye, tough love. My parents gave me that. Look how good I turned out.¡± Claire¡¯s expression soured as she said, ¡°Exactly. We don¡¯t need another Noris.¡± ¡°Hey, that¡¯s rude.¡± ¡°Well, I agree we don¡¯t need another Noris, but¡­¡± Sora trailed off. ¡°Oi, you bastard.¡± In the midst of the playful banter, the woman who remained silent until now asked, ¡°Won¡¯t he be fine if he can take advantage of the new system we were able to put in place thanks to the technology of this world?¡± Gregory rubbed his chin upon hearing the question. After mulling it over for a moment, he asked, ¡°Speaking of, did you happen to finish the report on the quest system, Maira?¡± Maira nodded. Her perfectly straight purple hair covered most of her face, but the others could tell she was proud of herself for finishing it a few days early based on the faint smile on her lips and pinkish tint arising on her pointed, green-hued ears. In some ways, she was more human than the rest of them despite being a different species altogether. They all appreciated her simple innocence. ¡°Alright,¡± Gregory said, ¡°please hand that to me after the meeting and then we¡¯ll decide how to handle his situation from there. We can reconvene in the afternoon. How does that sound?¡± The other six managers of Cloudgate agreed in their own way, both silent and boisterous. Afterward, they all filed out of the meeting room in order to supervise their own departments and Pathfinder Candidates. When Gregory finished organizing his papers, he suddenly recalled something. ¡°I forgot to ask them if we should send him some clothes¡­ erm¡­ I guess it¡¯ll be fine as long as he doesn¡¯t enter a big city.¡± Chapter 3 A sneeze pulled Owen from sleep early in the morning. Golden sunlight barely peeked through the forest canopy. Dew coated his feet which had apparently decided to stick themselves outside of the mirage blanket while he had been asleep. Amidst his grogginess, he pulled them back under the blanket and dried them off, only to realize they itched terribly. Upon poking his head out to figure out why, he noticed several bumps atop both feet. Bug bites. Owen groaned and pulled the blanket back over his head. He hadn¡¯t even spent a few hours awake in this world, and yet the smallest things were out to get him. Wonderful. Before he could rue his bad luck, he heard a soft whimper nearby. Out of pure curiosity, he lifted the blanket just enough to peek through a slit opening. Unfortunately, his vision was still blurry since he had just woken up. He rubbed his eyes a few times until he could see straight before peering between the trees where he heard the noise. A shiver shot down his spine as soon as he figured out what was there. Barely a stone¡¯s throw away, he saw several canine animals with bristly snow-white fur ambling about. The closest one was a mother nursing her litter of ten wolf pups who already looked capable of tearing him apart limb from limb. He recognized the creatures from the closed beta of Pathwalkers. They were called bristlefur wolves and were notorious within the community of Pathwalkers as the second strongest beasts within the bounds of the closed beta. If he recalled correctly, they ranged from Level 3 to Level 7, but the adult wolves displayed strength and agility closer to what many experienced VRMMORPG players calculated other beasts would have at Level 10. Within the closed beta, the strongest players barely reached the temporary level cap of five, yet the wolves still annihilated full raid parties. The only stronger beast in these ¡®beginner¡¯ woods was the witherbear, which was basically a raid boss. Larger packs were even more difficult to combat than the witherbear. In other words, the bristlefur wolves were dangerous. Too dangerous. Stealthy evacuation jumped to the top of Owen¡¯s priority list. Praying the mirage blanket would mask his presence, he slowly rose to a crouching position while tightly wrapping the blanket around himself like a cloak. A low growl aimed in his direction stopped him in his tracks. It came from the mother wolf nursing her pups. It seemed the blanket did not make him as invisible as he had hoped. A heavy sense of trepidation seeped into his heart and he waited with baited breath. The outdoors were not his domain. He held zero doubts these bristlefur wolves could tear him to shreds without breaking a sweat. Much to his surprise, the mother wolf quickly lost interest and lowered her head back to the ground. Her predatory grey eyes remained focused on Owen, but she gave no indication of pursuing or chasing him. This blanket is probably more useful than the wakizashi, Owen noted to himself. In order to test the effectiveness of the blanket, he inched away from the bristlefur pack. Other than the mother wolf, the others did not pay him any attention. Perhaps she was simply more alert because of her pups. Assuming that to be the case, Owen quickened his steps while remaining crouched. A few of the other bristlefur wolves glanced in his direction, but that was it. He could finally breathe easy. However, he decided to remain alert. Luck could have been a factor in the wolves not paying much attention to him. After traveling carefully for a good ten minutes, Owen allowed himself to relax by sitting against the trunk of one of the willow-like trees which glowed at night. It wasn¡¯t glowing now, though. Countless oval-shaped leaves growing from vine-like branches hung only a few inches from the ground. Each leaf was a beautiful semi-transluscent blue-green color. There was even more cover than the one he had slept beneath last night. The bark on these trees was remarkably smooth. The texture felt like a crude version of vinyl. ¡°I guess I really am in a different world, then,¡± Owen mumbled under his breath. After all, there wasn¡¯t much of a sensory system for touch, smell, or taste within Pathwalkers, yet he experienced all three quite vividly here. Curiosity rose within him. Was this a real world? If it was, then what was the game which used its locations? How did the creators know how to build the world? All kinds of questions about his situation rose in his mind. He wanted to know the answers. He just didn¡¯t know where to find them. Wait¡­ what about the screens, then? Owen quickly brought up his quest log from the previous day. Once again, the only quest there was the ¡®Hidden Quest¡¯ about becoming a Pathfinder. He tested opening and closing it with voice commands and then tried doing it by only thinking about it. As it turned out, he could bring it up without the voice commands if he focused hard enough. That was good to know. From there, he tried every other possible screen function he could think of based on the streams he had watched. ¡°Menu. Options. Status. Skills. Community. Guild. Mail. Chat. Inventory. Map. Journal.¡± Only three of them worked. The semi-transparent screens of varying sizes popped into the air in front of his eyes.
Owen Watts'' Status
Personal Info Stats
Level: 1 Strength: 8
Max HP: 43 Vitality: 7
Max SP: 25 Dexterity: 9
Name: Owen Watts Agility: 8
Race: Human Intelligence: 6
Class: None Wisdom: 7
Sub-Class: None Awareness: 5
Titles: Pathfinder Canditate
Equipment Affinities
Head None Fire 5
Arms None Water 15
Hands None Wind 10
Torso None Earth 5
Legs None Lightning 0
Feet None Ice 0
Cloak Mirage Blanket Poison 0
Undergarments Blessed Briefs Metal 0
Primary None Light 0
Secondary Owen''s Wakizashi Dark 0
Stat Points 0
Owen chuckled when he saw that the mirage blanket counted as a cloak. Perhaps it was because of the way he tied it around his neck. Now that he thought about it, though, this way of tying it was rather intrusive when moving around.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. Upon closer inspection, he realized his base stats were slightly higher than a Level 1 player. All the streamers he had watched started with 45 points to allocate as they wished. However, he had a total of 50, though they were already set in stone. If comparing his stats to the game, it seemed like he could probably handle himself against some of the moderately strong beasts in the forest like kangas and rattilas so long as he could utilize his mixed martial arts. Again, he realized that his bum shoulder which had been shattered in an official match wasn¡¯t hurting now. He could only assume the part about his body being reverted meant that it had been healed. If that was true, it meant he could do things he hadn¡¯t been able to do for almost two years. The thought excited him. He needed to test his physical capabilities as soon as possible.
Skills
Skill Name Type Skill Level
Spark Innate 1
Then, his eyes landed on the single skill in his skill list. He never saw such a skill in the skill lists of the streamers he had watched. In fact, he only knew of some of the basic passive and active skills, though one could guess what many of the advanced skills would be based on the ones seen in the beta. However, an innate skill was a completely new concept. Perhaps it was added recently? Or perhaps it only applied to non-players? He couldn¡¯t be sure. He tried to focus on the skill itself, yet no description appeared. In the end, he could only assume the skill list was just that: a list. No more, no less. In contrast to players, he would apparently have to figure out his skills through his own research. Yet another mystery had been added to his list of things to figure out. From there, he practiced closing the two screens without the voice command a few times. For now, the action caused considerable discomfort like times he had thought about breathing and started to consciously focus on each breath rather than breathing without thinking. Practicing with opening and closing the screens would hopefully allow him to do it as easily as breathing in the future. After practicing a few times, he focused on the final small screen in front of him.
Options
Tutorial Mode: ON/OFF
Tutorial Mode? Owen¡¯s eyes narrowed upon seeing the single option available to him. What exactly was the tutorial mode? He decided to test it out with a voice command. ¡°Turn off tutorial mode.¡± {Disabling tutorial mode will disable automatic language translation, guidance screens, stat allocation assistance, item descriptions, and lore boxes. Tutorial mode can be re-enabled with the voice command: ¡°Enable Tutorial Mode¡± at any time before completing ¡°Hidden Quest¡±. Do you still wish to disable?} {Yes/No} ¡°Huh. Interesting. Well, since I can re-enable it¡­ Yes.¡± As soon as he said ¡®yes¡¯, the screen vanished. Only the sight of the semi-translucent blue-green leaves filled his view. He tested opening the screens with and without voice commands, but nothing happened. The attempt was about as effective as a magikarp using splash. After that, he tried staring at the mirage blanket and wakizashi. Again, no screens appeared. How much did the tutorial mode cover? He didn¡¯t know but would eventually figure it out. For now, though¡­ ¡°Enable Tutorial Mode.¡± At first glance, nothing changed. However, the screens appeared when he tried to summon them. It had been successfully reactivated. The fact instantly relieved the tinge of anxiousness hiding at the back of his mind. ¡°It mentioned something about auto-translation¡­ Maybe I should disable the tutorial mode so I can learn the language here before its permanently disabled?¡± A sigh slipped from his lips. All of this was overwhelming. He had been whisked to a foriegn world without warning. Friends and family remained behind on Earth, and he didn¡¯t know if he would ever see them again. Since he didn¡¯t have a specific path to follow now, he scratched the side of his head. Going to the starting city, Raylea, probably wouldn¡¯t be a good idea in his current attire even if the blanket could potentially stave off unwanted attention. On the other hand, staying in the forest could get him killed. Both options were terrible. Suddenly, his stomach rumbled, forcing him to come to a decision. His vision moved from the blanket wrapped around his shoulders to the wakizashi held firmly in his right hand. ¡°Guess I should go hunting or something. Better than ruining my reputation in town with this getup, at least.¡± Chapter 4 With the mirage blanket neatly tied around his shoulders like a cloak, Owen skulked through the dense foliage. Large flowers which looked like sunflowers aside from the enormous black and pink petals grew in batches almost everywhere he looked. They followed his movements whenever he got close, which he vaguely recalled seeing in streams. Other than that, they were harmless. They only snagged small insects with their petals from time to time. Large viney bushes sporting small blue berries with crunchy outer shells gave plenty of cover for him to hide within whenever he encountered bristlefur wolves or spineback hogs. The hogs were warthog-like beasts with black or brown fur, elephantine tusks, and anywhere from ten to fifteen large black spikes with red tips along their back which reminded Owen of rockfish. If he remembered correctly, the hogs were slow, but the spines on their back contained a mild poison. Perhaps they would look more appetizing if not for that trait. Occasionally, he encountered smaller animals like furrells, the squirrel-like tree-dwellers with greenish-brown fur and ridiculously fluffy ears and tails, or jarbits, the rabbit-like creatures whose heads reached up to his knees since they mostly hopped around on powerful hind legs in order to use their front paws for gathering food. They also had gray or brown fur, goat-like horns, and purred like small cats. However, he wondered how deep he was in the forest since he didn¡¯t see any kangas, rat-like creatures who stood on powerful hind legs like kangaroos, or rattilas, skinny capybara-like mammals with dark fur and sharp predatory teeth. Still, seeing all of these other creatures up close rather than through the lens of a streamer was rather surreal. It felt like walking through a dreamland where danger lurked around every corner. Eventually, he found a furrell on the ground that wasn¡¯t scampering everywhere like a toddler who just ate a pound of sweets. Instead of running through the otherworldly oaks, maples, and willows of the forest, it was nibbling on some of the countless little berries littering the ground. Thanks to the effect of the mirage blanket, he was able to sneak right up behind it. When he started drawing his wakizashi from its sheath, the furrell stopped nibbling on the crunchy berries and stood on its hind legs. Its small black eyes, filled with the fear common to all small herbivores, stared right at Owen. The small sound had alerted it. The fearful gaze of the prey caused him to hesitate. He had never intentionally killed anything other than insects before. Life was a precious thing. Killing an animal, even if to fill his stomach, was a large jump from beating down an opponent in a ring. In fact, now that he thought about it, how would he cook it without drawing the attention of the predatory beasts living in Barkstone Forest? Wouldn¡¯t he have to skin it and prep it, too? Those were skills he never learned. That primitive living channel he sometimes watched never released any type of video about that since there would have been an outrage from a certain animal protection group. Few people in his generation even hunted to feed their families. Hunting and dismantling were almost forgotten skills thanks to technology making food processing so easy. Maybe I can just eat these berries instead? Sighing, he clicked the wakizashi back into its sheath and sat next to the berry bush alongside the furrel. Since it could eat the berries, then why couldn¡¯t he? Of course, he would need to hunt animals at some point just to maintain his health, or even to get some fur clothing in order to not look like a streaker, but for now, berries should suffice. One step at a time as they always say.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. After gathering a few berries for himself, Owen realized the furrell had left. He didn¡¯t even notice it scampering off into the trees. Rueing his softness from living in a big city, he popped one of the berries into his mouth. It crunched like an apple on the outside but felt like a raspberry on the inside. The skin was extremely sour while the inside was extremely sweet. In the end, the two flavors balanced each other out. It wasn¡¯t as flavorful as the genetically modified fruits he was used to, but it tasted alright. After downing a few handfuls of the berries, he stepped over to one of the nearby oak-like trees which sported scratchy dark brown bark and three-pronged leaves as big as his head. He tore off one of the leaves and wrapped up some of the berries in it for later. It may have been an unnecessary gesture due to the bountiful numbers of berry bushes, but it was better to be safe than sorry. From there, with wakizashi and berry-filled leaf in his hands, he set out deeper into the forest in search of the Plathume River which flowed through the forest from the nearby mountain range to the south, or at least what had been south in the game map. Only a small portion of the river had been open in the closed beta since both the mountain and plains it flowed into after curving into the bounds of Barkstone Forest had been blocked off by an invisible barrier, though he had a feeling the barrier only applied to players. Two of the streamers he watched had found the river while playing together. Afterward, the area quickly became a hotspot for stronger players to catch rainbow-scaled fish with fat bodies and bulbous antennas. The fish, apparently called khitefish, were apparently a hot commodity in Raylea and sold for more than the furs of the forest beasts aside from witherbear fur. If he could find the river, perhaps he would be able to find players, if any existed here. At the very least, he would be able to drink fresh water and possibly catch fish. That would probably be easier for him to accept than hunting in the forest for now. Perhaps he could even try making some of the nets or lures he saw on that primitive technology channel he occasionally watched. Fishing would likely be easier to learn and grow accustomed to than spilling blood with his bare hands. Basing his sense of direction on his limited knowledge of the game¡¯s map of Barkstone Forest, he headed in a somewhat south direction. The sun here, although much redder than Earth¡¯s sun, seemed to have a similar rotation cycle. He hoped he could use it as an indicator of his direction. As he traveled through the forest, he heard all kinds of birds and insects chirping and buzzing. They sounded similar to when he watched streamers traveling here, but now that he was here alone without the extra noise from commentary and combat, the world sounded far more vivid. It was almost deafening to his ears which were accustomed to the silence of the indoors. Pungent aromas and stenches assaulted his nose. He couldn¡¯t tell which smells originated from which plants or animals. Too many mixed together for him to make any sense of it. It was a far cry from the fumes of a bustling metropolis. Aside from that, he often swatted insects similar to gnats, flies, and bees away from his face. Their incessant buzzing made his ears ring. A few even flew into his mouth, forcing him to hack and spit until he could get the taste out of his mouth. Unfortunately, the blanket didn¡¯t keep them away at all. Or maybe it did stave them off and it was his fault for unknowingly walking through a cloud of tiny gnats. Either way, he started to think encountering an aggressive and unfriendly bristlefur wolf would be more enjoyable then having to deal with the annoying things. They completely stole his attention to the point that he didn¡¯t notice the sudden lack of other animals in the vicinity. While paying the insects more heed than they were worth, he suddenly stumbled over a small bush. One knee dug into the moist soil, but he didn¡¯t fall. Before getting up, he started dusting off his knee. Amidst his carelessness, he heard some beastly grunts followed by a bone-shattering crunch. He looked up from dusting off his knee and immediately noticed an enormous mass of bulging muscle and matted grey fur in the middle of a clearing half the size of a football field. A witherbear. Chapter 5 A chill crept down Owen¡¯s spine when he realized he had just stumbled upon the feeding time of a witherbear. The beast sliced apart a stag twice Owen¡¯s height with claws as long and sharp as newly forged swords. Although its hind legs were stumpy in comparison to its massive torso, its full size was bigger than an oversized pickup truck. Heavy snorts of foul breath blew from the nostrils of its pointed snout. Despite being several meters away, it felt like the bursts of exhalation could knock him over if he got close. The grass below the beast looked brown and sickly, which probably happened when it attacked the stag. In the closed beta of Pathwalkers, the witherbear could release a toxic breath capable of weakening anything within a few meters, though he did not want to find out how accurate that was. Until this moment, Owen had thought that even if he encountered a witherbear, it would not intimidate him as much since he had seen them in the streams of several Pathwalkers players. However, now that one was in front of him, easily crushing the bones and devouring the marrow of a stag which was probably far stronger than himself, beads of fearful sweat dripped from his forehead. Scared that it might notice him, he wrapped the mirage blanket tighter around himself and took a step back into the foliage. A stick cracked under his bare foot, causing him to wince. He had forgotten to pay attention to hazards on the ground. Noticing the sound, the witherbear whipped its head around and stared straight at Owen with eyes dark as the night sky aside from small yellow-green irises. Three scars which obviously came from the claws of a bristlefur wolf crossed over the bridge of its nose. The formidable glint in its glare froze Owen in his tracks. A deep warning growl rumbled from the beast¡¯s throat before it returned its attention to its meal. A wave of relief swept over Owen. He didn¡¯t know if the mirage blanket helped, or if he just wasn¡¯t worth the beast¡¯s time, but either way, he needed to scram before it chose him for dessert. With a newfound quickness in his step, he backed off from the clearing and sprinted away until he felt safe. Sweat dripped from every pore on his body for the first time in years and his breathing turned rough and ragged. Gnats splattered against his face as he ran, but he ignored them. It truly had been a long time since he exerted himself like this. He couldn¡¯t help feeling surprised by his physique, but now wasn¡¯t the time to be impressed. Once he felt safe, Owen leaned against a tree in order to catch his breath. As his breath slowed to a reasonable pace, he used the mirage blanket to smear away the sweat and bugs coating his face. I need to be more careful, Owen noted. Gradually, his racing heart slowed to a manageable pace. He thought back to some of the qigong practices some of his regulars at the gym would utilize for calming themselves and attempted to copy some of the smooth movements they displayed in the past. After a minute of the strange yoga-like katas, he started to feel a strange pulse deep within his body. It was different than his heartbeat. Those customers of his had never mentioned such a thing, and he only wanted to calm his heart, so he immediately stopped. With a sigh, he decided to forget about the awkward katas. Instead, he needed to move on. The physical exertion from fleeing only worsened his thirst. He really needed to find the river. As soon as he thought such, he started paying attention to a new sound among the din of forest noises. Although barely noticeable, he heard distant sounds of running water. Perhaps he was closer to it than he had thought. Without further ado, he resumed his trek southward, all the while paying more attention to his surroundings than before even while batting insects away. He eventually moved the leaf full of berries to his left hand which still held the wakizashi since he feared crushing them in the midst of slaying countless gnats. Now that he thought about it, he saw more wildlife like furrells and jarbits scurrying around the forest. At one point, he even saw a black snake with a single green stripe along its back snap its head out of a bush to snag a jarbit. Birds chirped in the trees above him once again. He couldn¡¯t help wondering how he hadn¡¯t noticed the lack of animals around the vicinity of the witherbear before. Learning the ways of the forest creatures would certainly help if he was to survive long here. Following the sound of running water turned out to be easier than he anticipated. The dense foliage gradually thinned out with each step. Only a few minutes had passed by the time he started seeing mountaintops in the distance through the canopy, and only a few more before he realized the sound of water he had been hearing was turning into a roar. Upon reaching his destination, he discovered a small waterfall the height of five grown men cascading over the edge of a rocky outcrop. The clear spring water crashed against a large boulder as smooth as ice at the back of a pond. Rock walls of an ivory black color spread to either side of the waterfall with a gradual decline toward the forest floor. They glistened with moisture. Mist constantly hovered around the waterfall and reflected sunlight which made it glow like golden dust. A river of water, likely the river he had been searching for, snaked off from the small pond and into the forest toward the direction in which he had encountered the witherbear. This was an area he had never seen while watching Pathwalkers streams. Perhaps it had lain just outside the bounds of the closed beta. If so, no players would be here anyway. The natural beauty of the area took Owen¡¯s breath away. Picturesque scenery like this had always existed within a screen for him. He never imagined he would have the opportunity to see something like this up close. Too bad he didn¡¯t have a camera. Not wanting to spend too much time admiring the scenery, he investigated the rest of the area. Above the waterfall, he could see a steady incline rising into the mountains. He had reached the base of the mountains. While observing the mountainside, he suddenly noticed a darkened opening in the mountainside only a short climb to the left of the mountain stream which flowed into the waterfall. Most likely, it was some sort of cave and looked rather easy to reach if he could cross the river. The slope was gradual enough up to that point for a moderately easy walk. Thinking that the cave might make for a suitable temporary shelter, Owen tightened his fists decisively and set course for it. Unfortunately, he needed to find a path across the river, which was wider than the length of a school bus and probably reached up to his chest at the deepest parts by the looks of it. First, he knelt and scooped a few handfuls of water into his mouth while pondering on whether he should risk cutting his foot on the noticeable stones on the riverbed. Hurting his feet was probably the worst thing he could do based on the advice from that primitive living channel. Eventually, he came to a realization. ¡°I don¡¯t even have clothes on¡­¡± He muttered. Yes. He was basically naked aside from the blanket and boxers. Even if they got wet, they both had those spotless enchantments to keep them clean, didn¡¯t they? Just to be sure, he double checked the descriptions on them. He was right. That meant he wouldn¡¯t have to worry about mildew even if they got wet. Then, his mind took a step further. ¡°Yeah. I can just take it all off since there¡¯s no people here.¡± So, he did just that. He stripped down into the nude, wrapped up his few belongings in the mirage blanket, lifted it onto his shoulder, and carefully stepped into the river. Instantly, his feet sank into the moist sand inches beneath the gurgling surface. A chill from the cool mountain spring water bit at his skin in a refreshing manner. It reminded him of the few times his grandpa had brought him to the swimming lake outside the city. Suddenly recalling his grandpa caused him to stop. He lowered his gaze and watched the water roll over his submerged feet. I really wonder if I can go back¡­ He wondered. Then, he raised his eyes toward the cave and mumbled to himself, ¡°Now¡¯s probably not the best time to worry about it.¡± Temporarily setting aside his stray thoughts, he trudged into the river. He took great care to avoid any stones on the riverbed despite how few there were. Each step of his cut through the water, which quickly rose above his knees. However, once the river¡¯s surface reached his upper thighs, he hesitated briefly. He glanced at his crotch since he knew what would happen in this chilly river. Numerous fish, including some similar to trout and even the khitefish he hoped to find, swam around his legs. An uncomfortable image of them nibbling on his dick flashed through his head. Clenching his teeth, he shook away the image, sucked in a deep breath of air, and strode forward. Instantly, the chilly water sent a shiver through his entire body, starting from between his legs. He shuddered briefly, but continued onward to the deepest area which lapped at his bare chest. As he waded through the river which bubbled gently around him, Owen pressed his free hand against his abdomen and then his chest. Since arriving in this forest last night, he hadn¡¯t paid much attention to his own body aside from his formerly injured shoulder feeling better. Now, with small waves lapping at his bare skin, he finally noticed. Every one of his muscles felt as hard as two years ago before he retired from being an MMA fighter. He thought back to the part of the ¡®Hidden Quest¡¯ description which mentioned something about his body being reverted to its prime physical condition or something like that. Back when he first read it, he hadn¡¯t imagined that his entire body would be changed in such a way. It was as though his consciousness had been cast back in time or something. Maybe it was more like a magical healing or steroid, though. In order to know for sure, he might even need to finish that quest. Every minute he spent thinking about things, the more necessary the completion of the quest became. Before he even realized it, he was standing on the opposite shore with everything below his shoulders sopping wet. Sighing, he walked a few meters away from the river¡¯s edge and set his things on dry grass in order to reorganize them. When he opened the blanket, the leaf of berries, much to his dismay, had spilled everywhere. Shaking his head at the annoyance, he recovered as many as possible but left enough space to somewhat tie the leaf together with its long stem. Then, he half-heartedly dried himself with the blanket before tying it around his shoulders again and throwing his boxers back on. He also checked to make sure the wakizashi was dry before taking it in hand again. He couldn¡¯t help thinking that a belt would have been incredibly helpful. Too bad he ended up here without notice. With that, he began his trek up the slope. The first part of the slope turned out to be an easy climb. It wasn¡¯t until he reached the area near the top of the waterfall that he needed to pay more attention to his steps. Slippery layered stone protruded from the ground in multiple places, forcing him to take great care with each step. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Part of him always rued how others would make fun of his large feet in the past, but now, he deeply appreciated the grip his large toes were giving him. His toes curled around the edges of rocks, giving him extra purchase he didn¡¯t know he could utilize. Perhaps walking around barefoot could strengthen the callouses on the soles of his feet to the point that shoes wouldn¡¯t feel like such a necessity. Well, poking the bottom of his heel on a sharp stone quickly changed his mind. When he reached the top of the waterfall, he stood straight with hands on his hips and admired the surroundings. In contrast to the tight confines of the forest, a light breeze blew constantly up here. The mirage blanket danced gently behind him. His hair trembled in the brief gusts which occasionally brushed past every few seconds. Looking straight down, he could see all the way to the bottom of the pond even through the mist and ripples spreading out from the waterfall. The water was crystal clear. Only one large boulder poked out from the surface right beneath the waterfall. Other rocks remained below the surface between the boulder and the cliff he was standing on. He almost wanted to dive into the pond below. It looked even deeper than the river he had crossed which snaked off to his right. Diving would be a bad idea until he investigated it later, though. Breathing in a deep breath of fresh air, he muttered, ¡°So this is what I¡¯ve been missing out on while wasting away behind my desk at the gym¡­ Then again, there¡¯s no Walmarts here.¡± Owen pursed his lips and turned toward the cave with mirage blanket whipping around behind him. His current goal was investigating the cave as a means of shelter. Scenery was secondary. Admiring it would need to wait until his basic needs were met. Since he was moving carefully up the slope, it took him a few minutes to reach the rocky outcrop where the cave entrance was. The mountain stream flowing into the waterfall rushed down the slope not far away, dousing any chance for quiet. Honestly, the amount of flat ground directly outside the cave surprised him. An entire house could fit up here with room to spare. So far, the area seemed usable as a temporary shelter. There were sources of both food and water within walking distance. All that remained was to investigate within the cave. Since he could not see much of the inside thanks to the glare of the sunlight reflecting off the damp stone, he ambled into the darkness of the cave entrance which spanned almost three times the width of his wingspan. The only issue was that there was a strange stench similar to a mild form of sulfur tickling his nostrils. It was probably harmless, though. Taking great care with each step so as not to cut the soles of his feet, he inched forward into the cave. His eyes gradually adjusted to the change in light. It felt like walking into a basement lit by a single escape window. Suddenly, something cracked beneath his heel. ¡°Ow.¡± His leg lifted in a knee-jerk reaction. Luckily, he didn¡¯t cut his foot, but he raised a brow at what he had unknowingly stepped on. A small bone which looked like a rib from a small animal rested there, shattered by his weight. Clicking his tongue, he moved on, thinking nothing of it. The cavern he found himself in was much larger than he expected. Nearly three stories of space existed between the ground and ceiling, and double that between each wall to his right and left. He couldn¡¯t even see into the deepest area of the cave. Perhaps it tunneled deep into the mountain, which was unfortunate. If this was a full cave system, then it wouldn¡¯t make for a good shelter. In order to find out if it ended at some point, he continued on. Despite the dwindling light from the cave entrance, he noticed that the cave started to close in to about half the space of earlier. Not far off, he heard the echo of a water droplet splashing in a pool of water. The water itself was nowhere in sight, though. The further he walked, the stronger the stench became. If he was to use the cave as shelter, then he would need to do so away from the source of the smell, wherever that was. Somehow, the stench wrinkled his nose near the center of the cave but lessened further in. He wondered if there was some sort of stone or something generating the smell. There were some strangely shaped rocks off to his left which could be the source, but he decided to check it later. Another twenty steps or so later, he discovered the pool he occasionally heard water droplets fall into. Rather, he discovered a precarious drop which extended at least two stories straight down into the barely visible pool. A few glowing blue orbs in the water allowed him to see it better. Since they moved around, they were probably fish. The hole above the pool was roughly circular and had a circumference of about three grown men at the widest point, much like the cave entrance. The cave wall wrapped around the crevice. The only way down was a sheer drop from the cliff he was standing on. If this was the end of the cave, then he probably wouldn¡¯t need to worry about any cave creatures aside from bats coming in from behind him. Looking back toward the entrance, it seemed this hole was slightly further than a hundred meter dash from there. Aside from the strange stench, the cave seemed like a decent temporary shelter. There wasn¡¯t much mold or mildew on the walls despite the humidity of the area, there were few loose stones to lose his footing on, and there were hardly any plants or insects to speak of. Nodding to himself, he decided to make this cave his base of operations until he could find something better. Owen turned away from the crevice and ambled back toward the entrance. Again, the stench worsened closer to the middle of the cave. On the way in, he hadn¡¯t thought much of it, but if it was something dangerous, he would need to give up on the place. With wary eyes, he observed the area again. Contrary to when he was walking in, he noticed shadows from what he originally thought were strange rock formations due to the dim lighting. However, now that his eyes had somewhat adjusted to the lack of light, he realized what they actually were. They were piles of bones, wholly broken and misshapen to the point of not being able to identify what they might have been when alive. Tufts of fur and pieces of rotting meat still clung to some of them. That explains the smell, Owen thought. However, the presence of the bones delivered a question. Where did they come from? Perhaps this cave wasn¡¯t the best place to set up camp. I should leave. Although regrettable, it seemed this cave already had an owner, and a dangerous one at that. There was no need to endanger himself here. With a frown on his face, he resumed his trek toward the cave entrance. However, he halted again almost immediately upon seeing movement near the exit. A large shadow stretched deep into the cave as a large beast lumbered inside. Although the sunlight behind it blocked out most of its features, Owen immediately knew it was a witherbear. The hulking upper frame of the beast and the long claws on its forepaws made it obvious. Almost on instinct, Owen wrapped the mirage blanket tightly around his body and slowly backed off. The witherbear casually shuffled into the cave while nibbling on the bone of the prey it had just consumed. It was time for a well-earned nap after a successful hunt. However, an unfamiliar scent tickled its nose. Something had infiltrated its home. Angered, it crunched the large leg bone between jaws, shattering it instantly. Then, growling deeply, it searched the cave using all of its senses. Owen, upon realizing that the witherbear had noticed his presence, skulked even deeper into the cave in the hopes that the beast would lose interest. The mirage blanket pulled through for him before. It could do so again. He continued backing up, all the while keeping in mind the crevice behind him. As long as he didn¡¯t fall, he could surely escape. While Owen retreated in to cave, the witherbear continued to sniff the ground, following the trail of the invader. It lumbered on until arriving at its sleep area among the bones of former prey. The invader didn¡¯t seem to have disturbed its resting place. Satisfied with that fact, it followed the scent back to the center of the cave. It knew the invader was still near, but couldn¡¯t find it. It needed to find it and kill it. This was its home. Nobody could invade its home. Eventually, as it approached the scary water hole, it noticed something strange. There was something there. It didn¡¯t know what it was, but it looked like the strange thing it had seen while eating its meal. The intruder looked like smoke from the fires the bald monkeys always started whenever they tried to attack things in the forest, but there was no fire, only dark smoke. It had to be the intruder. Inborn anger rose within the beast toward the strange thing which had invaded its territory. Its continuous growling quickly rose in volume. Owen stared straight at the beast, not daring to blink. The witherbear was looking right at him with primal anger visible in its eyes. Now that he could see it better, he noticed three scars on the beast¡¯s nose. It was the same witherbear he had encountered earlier. Much to his surprise, the beast focused in on him. It opened its mouth and, without warning, roared loud enough to shake the cave. A few pebbles fell from the ceiling. Owen wanted to cover his ears but refrained from doing so and remained alert. For some reason, the beast was paying more attention to him than last time. Sweat started collecting on his palms and forehead. Doubt crept into his mind. He started to think putting so much stock in the effect of the mirage blanket a questionable decision. As soon as the roar ended, the witherbear cautiously approached him. Honestly, he had expected it to rush in and attack like witherbears always did to players in the closed beta, but now it was displaying signs of rudimentary intelligence. Perhaps it didn¡¯t know what he was or how weak he was. Unfortunately, he had backed himself into a corner due to his fear. There was only about ten meters between himself and the hole and there wasn¡¯t much space to maneuver past the witherbear since it was approaching from the middle of the cave. He was stuck right between a rock and a hard place. His mind whirled as he tried to think of a good solution to the problem. The two stood at a standoff for a few seconds until the witherbear finally made the first move. It exhaled a pungent breath of yellowish green air. Wary of the gas, Owen widened his eyes and pulled the mirage blanket over his mouth in the hopes that he wouldn¡¯t breathe it in. Once again, the two stared at each other for a few moments. Owen hoped to think of a solution in these few seconds of respite, but the witherbear quickly lost its patience and roared again. As soon as it saw that its breath wasn¡¯t weakening the intruder, it lunged forward and swung its claws. Surprised by the agile lunge which closed the nearly ten meter distance in an instant, Owen barely had time to dive backward into a roll. The wind of the passing claws brushed against his bare legs, sending chills up his spine. A vision of his legs being chopped off flashed through his mind as he landed and stood to face the beast again. The witherbear still seemed relatively cautious since it didn¡¯t lunge in immediately after the attack. Since he couldn¡¯t think of a way to escape, Owen clenched the sheath of his wakizashi. Despite being an unfamiliar weapon, it was his only chance of success. While holding the sheath and leaf full of berries in one hand, he unsheathed the short sword in one swift movement. As soon as the witherbear saw the blade, something flashed through its eyes, and it roared again. To Owen¡¯s surprise, the beast lost any sense of trepidation and lunged straight at him. He barely saw the clawed forearm swiping up at him. In a last second reaction, he turned the wakizashi into a defensive stance. The claws clanged against the blade, generating sparks. Owen grunted at the enormous strength behind the beast¡¯s attack and could only jump back with the force. The long claws dug into his chest as his body lifted into the air since he couldn¡¯t withstand the blow at all. He grunted at the searing pain. This wasn¡¯t a pain he had ever experienced in the ring. It all happened in an instant, yet felt like a full minute. Next thing he knew, he was launched into the air. His body spun until he could see straight down into the pool. He flew only inches from the frighteningly sharp stalactites hanging from the cave ceiling. As soon as his ascent slowed, he noticed he was quickly approaching the far wall above the pool and braced himself. He slammed against the wall with a sickening thud which knocked the breath out of him. He bounced off the wall and tumbled through the air. The sound of the witherbear roaring triumphantly echoed in his ears as he fought to retain consciousness. I will live! He exclaimed in his mind as though swearing revenge toward the beast as he hurtled deep into the darkness. Chapter 6 A young man in his late twenties sat at a booth in a popular cafe surfing for all the latest news about Pathwalkers on the screen generated by his cranial implant. A loose-fitting polo covered his wide shoulders and loose-fitting khaki pants covered his legs. His shoes were simple black sketchers, much to the annoyance of his wife. In fact, she told him to go buy some on his lunch break, yet here he was surfing the extranet while waiting for the friend who messaged him out of nowhere shortly after he arrived at work that morning. About a minute passed as he waited. He ordered a glass of water from the menu display next to the booth. It arrived seconds later on a conveyor belt. While sipping the ice cold water, he heard the old-fashioned entry bell ring and saw a familiar face walk into the cafe. The man immediately set down his glass, stood, and met the other man halfway. ¡°Long time, no see, Thomas,¡± he greeted, smiling widely as he stretched his hand out. ¡°Yeah. Good to see you, too, Dale,¡± Thomas replied, grasping the outstretched hand. As soon as the two of them sat down at the table, Dale asked, ¡°It¡¯s been, what... three years? How was Paris?¡± Nodding while ordering a glass of sparkling water on the screen, Thomas answered, ¡°It was alright. Learned a bit.¡± ¡°Heh. Look at you, being all humble. I heard you won some art award or something.¡± Thomas sighed. ¡°Well, yeah. They gave it to my least favorite piece, though.¡± Raising a brow, Dale chuckled at Thomas¡¯ expense and said, ¡°I guess either you or they have bad taste.¡± ¡°Probably me,¡± Thomas replied, shrugging. ¡°Heh. Well, you ready to order?¡± ¡°I haven¡¯t even looked at the menu.¡± Dale waited while Thomas scrolled through the menu and occasionally asked questions about his time living abroad. Before Thomas could order, however, they both received notifications from their implants at the same time. ¡°You got one, too?¡± Dale asked, visibly surprised. ¡°Yep.¡± ¡°May as well bring it up on a shared monitor, then.¡± Thomas agreed with a nod. Both of them then connected to the menu screen wifi and Dale opened the video suggestion. It was a news broadcast, though the reporter was already mid-sentence. {-to other news, I¡¯ve got something unfortunate to share with you all today. We have regrettably been informed that the former 2052 MMA Middleweight Champion, Owen ¡°The Ogre¡± Watts, has been reported missing.} Dale and Thomas both widened their eyes in shock upon hearing an old friend¡¯s name for the first time in years. It was no wonder this report had been recommended to both of them. The reporter continued. {The twenty-seven year old left the public eye after his terrible shoulder injury two years ago, but the fact that he is showing up again in such a way is truly, truly regrettable. The authorities on the case have yet to find any information that we can report. I personally want to wish any friends and family of his my heartfelt sorrow about the situation.} The reporter continued talking in the background about Owen¡¯s last known whereabouts and similar details. Dale rubbed his chin and lowered his eyes from the screen. He sighed and quietly said, ¡°Man, first Alyssa disappeared, and now Owen?¡± ¡°Well, Alyssa at least left a note saying not to look for her before she disappeared.¡± ¡°She did? I didn¡¯t know that.¡± ¡°Kara didn¡¯t tell you?¡± ¡°Nope.¡± Thomas shrugged. ¡°Well, it was years ago now. Anyway, it doesn¡¯t seem like Owen left anything like that. Hope he¡¯s okay.¡± ¡°Definitely¡­¡± The two fell silent, but then the reporter said something which caught their attention again. {Oh! My secretary just informed me that one of the department heads at Cloudgate will actually be making an announcement on Owen¡¯s disappearance! This is absolutely unprecedented. Let¡¯s go to the scene. Filipe DeFranc out.} Dale and Thomas looked at each other with disbelieving faces. A department head of Cloudgate making a public appearance for Owen¡¯s disappearance? Really? Neither of them could believe it. Suddenly, the video cut over to a small press room. It seemed only a few reporters were there, but they crowded around an empty podium with expressions of anticipation. After all, the department heads, aside from the head of marketing, Claire Vestig, hardly ever made public appearances. Everyone wondered who would appear. As if appearing at everyone¡¯s bidding, a young man of mixed Oriental descent confidently stepped into the room. At first, some of the reporters commented on the unfamiliar person, particularly about his apparent age, but they quieted upon seeing the somber expression on the man¡¯s face. Everyone waited with baited breath as the man approached the small wooden podium. A handful of microphones awaited his words on the subject of Owen¡¯s disappearance.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. {Ahem. Well, I¡¯m sure many of you may find what I have to say today both strange and unexpected. However, I ask that you listen to the end before asking any questions.} ¡°I¡¯ve never seen this guy before,¡± Dale said. Then, glancing at Thomas, he asked, ¡°Know who he is?¡± Shaking his head, Thomas answered, ¡°I don¡¯t pay much attention to Cloudgate aside from news about Pathwalkers.¡± Dale pursed his lips and returned his attention to the man on the screen. {Before I speak about my friend, Owen, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Sora Quinyul, and I am the head producer for Pathwalkers.} ¡°Owen was friends with this guy?!¡± Dale exclaimed. Thomas shrugged. ¡°How would I know? I¡¯ve been across the world for three years.¡± Many of the reporters tried to ask questions which both Dale and Thomas wanted to know the answers to as well, but Sora raised a hand to silence them. His face was stern, much like a father reprimanding his children. {Please. No questions til later. I am here to speak about my friend Owen, not myself. Now, as I¡¯m sure you are all aware, he was declared missing this morning. My wife called to inform me about it shortly afterward. As someone who never underwent the Cranial Implant Procedure, he was, unfortunately, a potential target. We all know human trafficking exists in our world despite all we have done to fight it, and I¡¯m afraid my friend has fallen victim to it. If that is truly the case, then I fear we may never see him again. This being said, I have spoken with the other heads of our company after hearing about his disappearance. Perhaps what I am about to say may seem selfish, but please consider the feelings of a friend who has some amount of power in a big company. After speaking with my companions, they have agreed; if Owen is not found, I can add a new essential NPC to the game based on him.} Instantly, the room of reporters burst into a frenzy. They all wanted to ask questions about the morality or technicalities of the situation. On the other hand, Dale and Thomas couldn¡¯t believe their ears. A friend of theirs would be immortalized in the biggest mmorpg of all time? That was an amazing thought. The only problem was that it was predicated on the permanent disappearance of their friend. That was a horrible thought. Onscreen, the man named Sora hushed the crowd and continued speaking. {Obviously, this act is incredibly selfish. There is no possible way we can immortalize all of our lost loved ones to the game. Therefore, we have decided that this will be the only occurrence of it unless an extreme circumstance occurs in the future. After all, Owen was incredibly excited about Pathwalkers. He always watched streams and was even a sub-moderator on our forums.} Sora lowered his gaze for a moment, but then focused on the cameras again. {Now, if you¡¯ll excuse me, I have much to attend to since the full release is right around the corner. Owen, if you¡¯re out there, please be safe. If not, then I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll meet again in another place. That is all.} With that, Sora turned and quickly exited the room before any reporters could ask any questions. Since it was over, Dale disconnected from the screen¡¯s wifi. ¡°I like that guy,¡± Thomas said. ¡°Yeah. He didn¡¯t give a rat¡¯s ass about those reporters. It seemed like he really cared about Owen. That¡¯s pretty crazy.¡± The two sat in silence mulling over the past few minutes. Honestly, it hadn¡¯t really hit either of them that someone they knew had possibly disappeared from the world. Eventually, Dale ordered a meal, leading Thomas to do the same. While waiting, Dale brought up the inevitable subject. ¡°Did you pre-order Pathwalkers?¡± ¡°Well, I wasn¡¯t here to pre-order it, but I know some people, and they are setting aside copies for me and my wife.¡± ¡°Good. Wait, you got married?¡± ¡°Yeah. Met her at a music expo. I¡¯ll introduce her to you and Kara later.¡± ¡°Alright, then. Erm, anyway, if we¡¯ve all got copies, then we can play together.¡± ¡°And meet Owen?¡± Dale lowered his eyes briefly before answering, ¡°Yeah, though I hope he¡¯s not gone for good. I¡¯d rather meet the real Owen again instead of an AI of him. I can¡¯t apologize to an AI for not being there during his hardest moments.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­ good point.¡± After that, the two ate their meals in silence until it was time for Dale to return to work. They exchanged farewells and set up another day to meet in order to set up their dive capsules at Dale and Kara¡¯s house. An air of solemnity hovered over them the entire time. The excitement of seeing each other again left a sour taste in their mouths since they both subtly felt that a reunion with Owen wouldn¡¯t happen the same way. ~~~~~~~~~~ Meanwhile, Sora walked down the hall toward his office with a sour expression. That speech drained years of his life away. He never wanted to do that again. Just before reaching his office, the door across from his cracked open. Pure silver eyes stared at him from behind straight purple hair. Sora smiled and said, ¡°Hello, Maira.¡± Maira blinked and then stared at him for a few moments. Although Sora knew she could see right through him, there was nothing he could do about it. Eventually, Maira spoke. ¡°You are upset.¡± ¡°You could feel it from your office?¡± The young Zilian, the last of her kind, nodded. Sighing, Sora dropped all pretense and said, ¡°It would have been nice if someone else could have done that speech. Maybe Sister Wuya or something. I hate lying.¡± ¡°Your candidate. Your responsibility.¡± ¡°Yeah, I know. I¡¯m just complaining,¡± Sora replied, waving away his own words. Luckily, Maira could read expressions well, otherwise she might have taken his gesture as waving her off instead. ¡°Complaints bring misery. Optimism brings joy.¡± Sora sighed. Those words sounded especially heavy coming from Maira¡¯s mouth. After all, her world fell at the hands of Skarr¡¯s King along with his First and Second Pillars of the demon army just because her people had a strong connection to spiritual energy. It was truly unfortunate that Maira was the only one who survived long enough for the Pathfinders to discover her world and raise her into a fine Pathfinder herself. Sora couldn¡¯t retort to her words after thinking about her past and simply said, ¡°Thanks.¡± A thin smile spread across Maira¡¯s lips as she said, ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡± The young Zilian quickly returned to her office, likely to finish the final touches on the aspect of the quest system which applied to their candidates. Sora couldn¡¯t help smiling at the pure heart of the young woman and returned to his office. It was time to check on his candidates. Chapter 7 Darkness enveloped Owen. He could see nothing. He could hear nothing. None of his muscles obeyed his commands. He couldn¡¯t even tell if his eyes were open or closed. Despite that, he was aware of himself. He could feel his own body. A cool sensation enveloped his legs. In contrast, throbbing pain gripped his chest. It burned, but he couldn¡¯t tell how bad the wound was in this darkness. Ah, this is the same feeling like whenever I got knocked out in the ring, he realized. Indeed, he recalled experiencing something similar whenever he lost consciousness in matches. Even when it lasted only a few seconds, it would feel several times longer. He remembered the first time it happened like it was yesterday. It had been during his first professional match. Although he had asked his coach if that was how everyone felt like when falling unconscious, the oaf only replied with a shrug. Others often mentioned not experiencing anything at all. Until this moment, Owen had forgotten about those occurrences. In fact, he had often wondered if he simply fell into a dream-like state whenever it happened. Now, however, the intense pain from the deep cuts on his chest forced him to accept that it was something more like half-consciousness. For what felt like several minutes, he floated in this state. All he could do was wait for some external source to force his body awake or to wake up naturally. Luckily, it ended up being the former. A cold droplet of water splashed against his forehead. At least, he hoped it was water based on the feeling of it. As soon as the droplet hit him, his sight slowly returned. The darkness gradually retreated starting from the center of his vision. It was like a heavy fog dissipating under the morning sun. Unfortunately, his surroundings were still mostly dark aside from a blueish-white glow dancing on the stone walls of the cave. His hearing gradually returned as well, almost as though his brain was raising a volume meter from zero to full. Unsurprisingly, the only sound to greet his ears was that of a slowly trickling underground stream, but occasional squeaks from small bat-like creatures or intermittent water droplets splashing in pools from overhead stalactites broke the monotony. Now that he was fully conscious, Owen took mental stock of the dull pain throbbing in his bones and muscles, but the searing pain on his chest stole most of his attention. Before checking it, though, he raised his hands to his head, grunting in the process since it irritated the chest wound. He gently touched his skull multiple times. It didn¡¯t hurt aside from some minor bruising. Hoping he didn¡¯t sustain a concussion after losing consciousness mid-fall, he carefully raised his head to observe his surroundings. Although he was still in the cave, he couldn¡¯t see the hole he fell through anywhere above him. That was weird. After realizing that, he sat up a little, grunting again at the pain from where the witherbear struck him. Like he thought, his legs were submerged in the shallow underground river he had seen when peering into the hole earlier. A small fish, which looked like a fish-shaped jellyfish with glowing blue orbs under its translucent scales, nibbled on the callouses below his right heel. Its eyes were creepy white orbs with no other features. The fish didn¡¯t bother him, but he still pulled his foot away on reflex. Instantly, the fish swam off downstream. The cave darkened slightly, but luckily there were a few other glowing fish which illuminated the cave just enough for Owen to see. Watching the fish, he realized the river was deeper and wider both downstream and upstream. It only shallowed and narrowed for a few meters downstream of where he was sitting. He wondered if he had floated downstream while unconscious. Owen sighed, only to regret breathing so deeply. I guess I gotta bite the bullet and inspect the wound¡­ He had avoided looking at the wound from the witherbear¡¯s claws until now since he worried it might make him woozy. Nevertheless, he couldn¡¯t ignore it. With pursed lips, he lowered his chin until he could vaguely see his chest in the darkness. Four gashes streaked diagonally from the top of his left pectoral muscle down to his solar plexus. Although difficult to tell in the dark, the two middle cuts looked worst, almost like when the bad spots are cut out of a potato. The only difference was that this potato bled. Dark red blood which almost looked black in this dim cave had dried all over his torso during the time he had been unconscious. In order to check how deep each cut was, he rinsed his hands off in the water and then gently touched each one, grunting and flinching each time. The two outer cuts weren¡¯t bad at all, barely digging a centimeter into his skin. The middle two were slightly worse since his fingertip easily lodged itself in the wounds. For the most part, they were dry. Only trace amounts of blood leaked from the scabs which had probably cracked when he sat up. He briefly wondered how long he had been unconscious. Okay, not as deep as I thought, he remarked internally. I can manage for now. Stitches or something would be nice, though. Satisfied that he wouldn¡¯t die right this instant, he started looking around for the wakizashi. Unfortunately, he didn¡¯t see it nor the sheathe in his immediate vicinity. He almost sighed again but forced it back down. The gashes on his chest were barely dry and he didn¡¯t want them to crack open from any unnecessary movement. In order to avoid worsening the wounds, he rose to his feet with utmost care. A chilly draft nipped at his damp skin. He considered drying off with the mirage blanket, but that was still damp as well. At least it acted as a makeshift windbreaker when fully wrapped around his person. Looking like some sort of eskimo, he traipsed upstream, mindful of his footing. The stone beneath his soles was smooth and slippery from condensation. Occasionally, he noticed some of the berries he had collected earlier bobbing in the stream. One of the translucent fish pretty much inhaled one right before his eyes. So much for saving them for later. A few minutes passed until he reached a larger space complete with a pool which would easily reach his shoulders if he waded in. Schools of the glowing fish intermingled with some of the fish he had seen swimming in the river outside. The pool apparently had one source and two outlets, of which he had apparently floated down the wider one with a stronger flow. The other outlet snaked off around a corner into a small dark tunnel. The source of water feeding into the pool trickled in from a slow incline. Not far off, he could see a hint of light further upstream.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. The eerily dark hole he had fallen through loomed several meters above like the mouth of an abyssal beast trying to devour the cavern. Since he hadn¡¯t found the wakizashi along the way here, it was probably in this alcove somewhere. He started off by circling around the edge of the pool, eyes skirting over his dim surroundings. It wasn¡¯t long before he heard a barely noticeable clacking sound. After straining his eyes in the darkness, he finally noticed the source. It was the sheath, which was loosely lodged between a few stalagmites protruding from the pool. He shivered as he imagined the sharp rocks impaling his unconscious falling body but quickly shook it off and stepped into the water to grab the sheath. Once the firm wooden sheath was in his hand, he searched around for the blade itself. Hopefully, the glow from the translucent fish would reflect off the metal. Thinking such, he carefully returned to dry, well, moderately dry land, and scanned the ground and water for it. After a few minutes, he finally spotted it lodged in some loose stone near the smaller outlet stream. Before long, the blade was in his hand as well. He made sure to dry it off as much as possible before returning it to its sheath. Just as he was about to head upstream toward the light he saw earlier, he realized that he could now see into the tunnel the smaller stream trickled through. The tunnel was far shorter than he originally thought, but the thing that surprised him was the dull greenish hue barely visible at the end of the tunnel. A bell of curiosity chimed at the back of his mind, but the pain aching in his chest pulled him back to reality. Now was not the time for more adventure. Instead, heading toward Raylea was a wiser choice. In fact, he regretted heading deeper into the forest rather than visiting town just because he didn¡¯t want to be seen in his current attire. Keeping up appearances was so ingrained, even after two years away from the public eye, that it was biting him in the ass in a place where he was probably just a nobody. He couldn¡¯t help grimacing at the thought. Disappointment still bubbled in his heart as he turned his back on the tunnel, though. Following his intuition, he ambled back to the single inlet stream and followed it upstream. There was a hint of light at the end, which meant it was probably his best chance to exit the cave. After all, climbing through the gaping hole in the ceiling would definitely be impossible even if the witherbear didn¡¯t live up there. After a few minutes of walking carefully, Owen furrowed his brows upon seeing a dead end. There was only a small pool barely wider than the stream it flowed into. However, he could vaguely hear a dull rumble through the stone wall and ripples stirred the water¡¯s surface. Am I near that waterfall? He wondered. He bent down to inspect the pool since warm yellow light was filtering through like a lamp inside a wave pool at night. Unfortunately, the movement sent a burning pain through his wounds. He could feel the dry scabs cracking in a few places. Pus started leaking out. Grimacing, he decided to take a break in order to let the scabs dry again. He stepped away from the pool and sat down against the smooth stone wall a few steps away. As soon as his back pressed against the wall, he winced. Thanks to the giant cuts on his chest, he hadn¡¯t noticed that his back had been scuffed up somewhere along the way as well. Just icing on the bloody cake. Owen sat there for a few minutes with eyes closed. The wakizashi leaned against his shoulder with barely noticeable weight. Every once in a while, tremors passed through his body along with feverish chills. He wanted to believe it was just a psychological response to the wounds, but he couldn¡¯t help wondering if they were already infected. That would be bad when no pharmacies were available. He couldn¡¯t recall any type of healing area from the beta either. There was a tonic which restored player HP at the general store in Raylea from what he remembered, but he didn¡¯t have any coppers. Not having money was surprisingly annoying. When the cuts felt dry enough again, he grit his teeth and returned to the pool. Light still filtered in from the waist-deep water which obviously flowed into this cave from outside. Several fish aside from the glowing ones verified that thought. Since he didn¡¯t have any other choice, he sucked in a deep breath, wincing in the process, and waded underwater with eyes open. Again, he winced. The water stung on the wounds, but the cool temperature soothed the pain at the same time. It was a weird sensation. Now that he was underwater, he could tell that the light was definitely coming from outside. He could see a boulder at the other end but also open water to either side of it. Although the water blurred his vision, the cramped underwater tunnel looked five meters long at most. Before trying to swim through, though, he popped his head above the surface and sucked in enough air to fill his lungs again despite the pain coursing through his chest. Without further ado, he wrapped the mirage blanket around one arm to prevent it from snagging on his feet and clenched the wakizashi in the other hand. A determined expression formed on his face as he kicked with all the strength he could muster. The further he swam, the louder the rumble became. Just beyond the end of the tunnel, he could see bubbles erupting downward into the water like an upside-down water volcano. It was definitely the waterfall. Unfortunately, he was no olympic swimmer. It took much longer than he expected to reach the other end. Perhaps it only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like a full minute at least. His lungs were burning by the time he could see open water above his head. He basically jumped out of the water, ignoring the pain from his chest wounds as he gasped for air. Unfortunately, the depth dropped severely as soon as he exited the tunnel and extended at least a good ten to twenty centimeters below his feet. He was forced to tread water while catching his breath. He beelined for the nearby boulder beneath the waterfall and let go of the blanket in order to grab onto it for stability. Even though it was wet and slippery, it only protruded from the water a few centimeters, which meant he could bolster himself with his entire arm. The only annoyance was the spray from the waterfall right in front of him. He would probably still need to dive underwater again to swim past it. Perhaps diving wasn¡¯t necessary, but tons of water pounding his skull didn¡¯t sound too appealing. A good minute or two passed before he fully caught his breath. This was definitely a type of exertion he wasn¡¯t used to even if his body had been returned to its physical prime. Once again, he took a deep breath and dove down to the other side of the waterfall. This time, he didn¡¯t even come close to running out of air when he popped his head above the water. As soon as he laid eyes on the sky, relief washed over him. He was out. The only problem was that the sky was already turning orange. The sun was setting. Was I out cold for the whole day? No wonder I feel a bit feverish¡­ While thinking such, he dog-paddled to the shore. He briefly glanced at the waterfall and made a mental note to explore the strange cave at some point after he recovered as long as the witherbear was out of the picture. Speaking of the beast, he remembered to scan the area for it. Luckily, it was nowhere to be seen. Although he didn¡¯t have much daylight left, he decided to put his trust in the mirage blanket again since it was basically his only useful tool. He wrapped it around himself until he looked like a suspicious rogue, or at least that was how he assumed he looked. In actuality, he just looked like a guy huddled up in a blanket, albeit a magical one. With that, he double checked his direction based on the setting sun and trekked onward into the darkening forest in the hopes that he could reach Raylea before nightfall. Chapter 8 Insects chirping. Owls hooting. Trees rustling. Evening forest sounds echoed in Owen¡¯s eardrums as though distant. Each ragged breath sent a burning pain through the wounds on his chest. Why, exactly, did the wounds cause so much damage despite being relatively shallow? He could only imagine that there was some sort of extra effect caused by the witherbear¡¯s claws he hadn¡¯t known about. Onward he stumbled through the steadily darkening forest, each step laden with exhaustion. Dizziness came and went like a raging ocean tide. His vision swam to the point that he needed to lean against a tree in order to catch his breath and reorient himself. After a few minutes of rest, he pushed himself away from the tree and trudged forward. He knew he had already walked for a good two hours since leaving the cave. Daylight slipped away with each passing second. Raylea was definitely close. It needed to be. The darkness of the forest was fraught with danger, especially in his current state. While stumbling along, he suddenly felt a chill creep down the back of his neck. His hair stood on end. His legs stopped moving. A sharp sensation pierced his spine like an ice-cold blade. Is this¡­ sleep paralysis? He wondered. He strained his eyes in the darkness and turned his head in every direction. There was nothing near him. No. I can still move a little. What is going on? Is it from the wounds? Almost in answer to his thoughts, a shadow flickered between the trees several meters straight ahead, immediately drawing his gaze. However, he saw nothing. Must¡¯ve been my imagination¡­ probably. He tried to move again, but his muscles refused to respond. Imaginary warning bells chimed in the back of his head, but he couldn¡¯t figure out why. That is, he couldn¡¯t until something dark flickered again in the distance. Something was there, but it flickered away quicker than the blink of an eye. At this point, his entire body chilled to the bone despite the warmth of day not yet dissipating. Fight or flight began to churn within him, yet his legs ignored the call to flee. Heartbeats pulsed so heavily in his chest that he could feel it in his ears. An excruciatingly long minute passed without incident as sweat collected even more densely on his skin. He continuously envisioned dark, twisted blades digging into his spine. They felt frighteningly real, yet were not. Suddenly, a shadow lurched into view from behind a tree a few meters in front of him. Owen¡¯s eyes landed on it, unblinking. His heart skipped a beat before pounding behind his ribcage again. Whatever stood before him was taller by several feet. It was formless yet looked humanoid at the same time. It was pitch black; darker than the night sky. The outline of its formless body quivered and twitched like some sort of physical manifestation of a computer glitch. Even worse, it was as silent as a statue. What¡­ the hell? Was all Owen could think. He was both baffled and terrified by the shadowy being. He could barely believe his eyes. Suddenly, the vague outline of the shadow¡¯s head twitched into a ninety-degree angle. The movement was so quick, Owen barely noticed it. But, he did, and he shivered in response. It was horrifying. Shouldn¡¯t there have at least been a crack? It basically broke its own neck without making a sound. Before he could think too much about it, the shadow twisted and lurched. Then, it vanished. A shiver shot down his spine like an electric current again. Cold air brushed against the back of his neck. Danger. That was the straw which broke the camel¡¯s back. His instincts took over despite his fear. His own body bowed forward and his heel swung upward behind him where a human¡¯s chin would have been. Harsh breaths finally escaped his lips, making him realize he had been holding his breath. Cracks spread across the scabs on his chest. Cool droplets of blood and pus leaked out. However, he ignored all that. Instead, he stared at his foot which was still extended toward the sky. It never made contact with anything. Nothing was there. Still in fight or flight, he pulled his foot down and shuffled backward on his toes all in one fluid motion. Out of habit, he raised his fists, only remembering the wakizashi once it was right in front of his face. He then lowered it to his waist and grabbed the handle. His eyes danced over the surroundings at lightning speed, yet he saw nothing no matter where he turned. For a good minute, he remained on edge, ignoring the liquids leaking from his chest. Only survival was on his mind. However, nothing appeared. The chill dissipated, yet his hair still stood on end. Danger was there. He could feel it in his bones. Another minute passed. Then another. Still, nothing happened. The shadow never appeared.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. What the hell was that? He asked himself while taking deep breaths to calm his nerves. No answer reached his ears, not that he expected one. Whatever he saw was still lurking in the darkness. There hadn¡¯t been anything like that in the Pathwalkers beta. Not even close. That was something straight out of a horror movie. With a lingering sense of dread in the back of his mind, Owen hesitantly resumed his journey toward Raylea. For several minutes, adrenaline kept him on edge to the point that he couldn¡¯t take a single step without double-checking his surroundings. Even his wounds and former weariness didn¡¯t phase him. Alas, such a state could not last forever. The fires of his fight or flight reflexes gradually burned out and fatigue returned to replace it. Pulling the mirage blanket taught around his shoulders, he refocused on reaching Raylea as quickly as possible. After a while, the trees thinned and he finally saw the warm light of a flame a short ways off to his right. Changing course, he beelined toward it. A minute later, he exited the forest and saw fenced off homes. These were the outskirts of the town where the poor people lived, but that was all he knew from a throwaway line in streams he used to watch. Hoping the people might show some kindness, he stumbled towards the closest building which also happened to be the biggest. It was constructed with a cobble foundation and wood for the main build. It looked like an old church combined with a log cabin. Multiple lamps, likely of the oil-burning variety, lit the area with a warm inviting glow. However, one lantern attracted his attention since it rocked back and forth. A man wearing a leather tunic carried it while walking perpendicular with Owen¡¯s path within the fenced-off area of the large building. There was a shed there which he appeared to need something from. The man had a thin beard, indicating some level of youthfulness, but it was hard to tell exactly how old he was with only the light from his lantern. His build was lean, but it was that of a dutiful laborer. Although a brief amount of hesitation flickered at the back of Owen¡¯s mind, he pursed his lips and approached the fence. He could only hope the person wouldn¡¯t pass him off as some sort of thief or murder hobo. Due to his weariness, he leaned on the fence for support as soon as he reached it. ¡°Hello,¡± Owen called out, startling the man into almost dropping the lantern. ¡°Could I possibly ask for some assistance?¡± The man shook himself back to reality and stared at Owen for a moment. His brows furrowed and he tilted his head. Luckily, he didn¡¯t seem suspicious, just confused. Ah, I should remove my ¡®hood¡¯, Owen thought. He recalled that the witherbear didn¡¯t really recognize what he was when the mirage blanket completely covered him. Perhaps it affected humans to an extent as well. As soon as he removed the blanket from his head, the man¡¯s eyes lit up in surprise. With a startling lack of caution, the man walked over while saying, ¡°My goodness, you look pale as a moonhorse, sir. Are you alright?¡± ¡°A bit hurt. Could I ask to borrow some medi-¡± Before Owen could finish, his vision swirled to the point of nausea, his knees buckled, and he collapsed, barely keeping himself in a crouching position by using the fence as support. From the corner of his eye, he could see the man jogging over, but Owen was definitely more surprised than the man seemed to be. Until a moment ago, he still had a modicum of vigor. He couldn¡¯t comprehend the rapid shift. He barely heard the words of the man hopping over the fence. ¡°Hold on! I¡¯ll bring you inside!¡± Next thing Owen knew, he felt a surprisingly muscular arm sliding under his armpit to support him. Then, the guy lifted him almost effortlessly. Due to how the man was supporting him, his chest was now visible. The man noticed it immediately thanks to his lantern. ¡°Virtus Almighty! Did you get in a tussle with a witherbear?¡± Owen nodded weakly while stumbling along with the man¡¯s aid. ¡°You¡¯re a lucky man to get out with just that. Let¡¯s get some illafern ointment on those cuts before it gets worse.¡± Thankfully, the guy shut his mouth after that. Owen¡¯s head was already pounding. Even the man¡¯s calm voice made him wince. The man silently helped Owen over to a gate at the other side of the building, unbarring it with his foot as though he had done this every day of his life. The next few steps all blurred together as the two approached the porch jutting out the front of the large building. The man then opened the door and helped Owen into a room that could maybe pass for a living room. There were a few wooden chairs and one hobbled-together couch surrounding a cobble fireplace. Each of them sported thin, worn-out padding which looked like it had been sewn together from animal fur. The man led Owen over to the lone couch in the room and lowered him onto the makeshift fur cushion. Owen was thankful to have the mirage blanket in between his back and the cushion since the parts of his body which did touch the cushion started itching almost instantly. ¡°One moment, I¡¯m going to get my wife. She¡¯ll be able to patch you up.¡± Owen nodded weakly and mumbled, ¡°Thanks.¡± While walking toward a wooden door at the other side of the room, the man replied, ¡°Don¡¯t mention it. We deal with this kind of thing all the time because of the kids.¡± As soon as he was alone, Owen closed his tired eyes and sighed a shallow breath of relief. Glad they seem like decent people. That was the last thing to pass through his mind before he fell into a deep slumber. Chapter 9 Once again, Owen found himself floating in a void. Time passed strangely in this state. He couldn¡¯t tell if an hour or a year passed by. Perhaps even a clock wouldn¡¯t be capable of recording time here. However, his experience in this void did not last long, for he suddenly plummeted deep into an invisible pit. Moments later, he instantly stopped. Muddled voices echoed in his ears. He then opened his eyes. Dammit, not this dream again. It was a familiar scene. Four blurry faces stood around him at the edge of a cornfield ripe for harvest. They talked and laughed without a care in the world while walking toward a robotic harvester spanning the entire width of the field. Although somewhat blurry to his mind¡¯s eye, it stood tall like some sort of metallic warehouse on wheels. Come on! Just wake up! Like usual, nothing happened. The dream continued, forcing him to watch helplessly with full lucidity once again. The people stopped near the machine. The tallest man started talking. Owen recalled that it was some sort of explanation about the machine, but the words jumbled together into nonsensical white noise. Even so, it didn¡¯t matter. His small body, that of a child, dashed off into the cornfield against his will. For once¡­ please stop here¡­ As though to spite Owen¡¯s plea, the dream sped along. He recalled the foolish intentions of his younger self. The words flowed into his mind. I¡¯ll go start it! Dad¡¯ll be happy if I do it for him! No, he won¡¯t, Owen replied to his younger self despite knowing the words would never reach their target. Behind him, his parents and siblings cried out for him to come back. His younger self didn¡¯t listen. He wanted to make up for¡­ make up for something. Whatever it was had been lost to time, but his younger self treated it like the most important thing in the world. Before long, he was standing in front of the control panel used to launch the machine. His small hands tapped away on the buttons until figuring out how to start it. Don¡¯t do it. Owen¡¯s weak attempt at stopping himself failed to make even a slight difference. The familiar red warning screen popped up, though the words were blurred to his mind¡¯s eyes, though he recalled it warning him of something about the emergency shutdown systems. Without a hint of concern, his younger self haphazardly skipped past the warning and started the machine. Even now, Owen could feel the delight in his younger self¡¯s heart. It made him sick. The machine lurched forward. In the dream, it screamed in his ears as thousands of reaping blades harvested the corn. Hundreds of stalks fell every second. His younger self hopped down from the stationary launching platform and sprinted over to the launching platform of the gathering machine which had a similar appearance to the harvester yet remained just as blurry. Instead of saying anything this time, Owen simply closed his eyes in anticipation, not that closing his eyes actually did anything in this dream. It never did. No matter how many times he experienced this dream, it always transpired the exact same way without fail, and he was always forced to watch every second of it. Next thing he knew, an all too familiar scream pierced his eardrums. How many times had he heard it? Hundreds? Thousands? Even if it was ten thousand, it still caused his heart to tremble. In contrast, his younger self flinched. Scared, he faced the cornfield. He froze like a statue in the middle of winter. Another scream followed by urgent yelling deepened his fear. He ran out into the field, trampling corn underfoot. He looked around for his parents. They were nowhere to be found, so he ran closer and closer to the machine. Eventually, he could hear his father¡¯s voice yelling to him over the roar of the rotating blades. Although the words were muddled in this dream, Owen knew his dad had been telling him to turn off the machine. He could only helplessly observe as his younger self failed to hear anything due to a growing fear of those blades.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Eventually, his younger self figured out what was happening and ran back to the launching platform. He turned it off. He ran back. Within that short time, the harvester passed over more than half of the cornfield. In a blink, he found himself sprinting across the field only a few meters away from the end of the machine with every intention of running around to the other side to receive a scolding from his parents. Although his younger self did not immediately notice the splotches of red mush coating some of the fallen corn stalks, older Owen did. He very much did. He could see it all too clearly. Every inch of reddened ground was seared into his mind. Meanwhile, his younger self barreled around the machine into the uncut corn stalks, obviously expecting to run into angry family members at any moment. But, it never happened. He ran back and forth until seeing movement beneath the machine near the end where he had run into the unharvested area of the cornfield. A woman¡¯s hand stuck out from underneath, an ornate ring adorning her ring finger; both stained bright red. Owen silently watched through the eyes of his younger self as he knelt next to the machine. For what felt like the millionth time, he met the dimming eyes of his mother. She stared back. Only a hint of life remained within them. Her lower body, maimed and bloodied, lay in pieces on and beneath the curved blades. On reflex, Owen¡¯s younger self reeled back with a horrified expression, falling speechless on his rear. His mother looked upward toward her youngest child. Somehow, through sheer will, her lips curled up into a comforting and motherly smile. She tried to reach out and comfort her baby boy, but her hand fell short. The remaining life ebbed away from her. Her body was still and lifeless, yet the expression on her face remained the same. It was that of a mother trying to comfort her child. Dammit... Seeing the same scene hundreds of times should have desensitized him to it, but guilt still shackled around his soul more tightly each time. Owen¡¯s younger self breathed heavily, not quite processing what had happened. A single word crawled out from between trembling lips. It was the only word Owen could hear clearly every time he relived this nightmare. ¡°Mommy?¡± Only a gentle breeze rustling the nearby corn stalks responded. Tears welled up in the eyes of his younger self, mirroring the emotions of his older self. Sniffling, he crawled forward. Blood and dirt coated his palms. He lifted his mother¡¯s lifeless hand into his own. Silence followed, allowing the guilt to seep ever deeper into the cracks of his heart. Hands coated with the blood of his own kin, his younger self cried. Grief as raw as an open heart fueled his tears. Unable to bear it, he spent every ounce of air in his lungs and wailed like the child he was. ¡°AAAAAAA-¡± ~~~~~~~~~~ ¡°-AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!¡± As always, Owen bolted upright from his recurring nightmare of a memory, finishing off the wail even if he didn¡¯t want to. Salty tears streaked down the sides of his cheeks and over his cracked lips. Since he didn¡¯t have a shirt, he reached over for the mirage blanket which was folded neatly on a small, rickety end table and wiped them away. Afterward, he clenched the soft fabric in his hand tightly enough to break someone¡¯s arm and stared blankly at the other end of the couch he had fallen asleep on. ¡°Are you alright?¡± A sweet and tender voice asked from right next to him. Still shaken by the dream he hadn¡¯t seen in almost a year, Owen slowly shifted his gaze toward the speaker. There was a girl sitting on a stool next to the couch with a wet towel in hand. Her features were rather plain. Sandy brown hair rested over her shoulder in a neat braid. Hazel eyes stared at him with evident concern. Her face was small and her stature was short compared to what he was accustomed to. Perhaps her forehead could reach his ribs if they stood face to face. After a brief moment of studying his apparent caretaker, Owen replied, ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± The girl nodded, obviously not wanting to pry into a stranger¡¯s life. Considering she didn¡¯t look a day over eighteen, she certainly carried herself well. Instead, she changed the subject. ¡°My husband brought you here last night, in case you don¡¯t remember. Seems like you encountered Feverclaw in the forest.¡± ¡°Mhm.¡± The girl sighed and placed the damp cloth on the table. Then, she asked, ¡°Would you like some porridge?¡± ¡°No thanks. Maybe later.¡± The girl lowered her gaze briefly, but then smiled and said, ¡°Very well. I¡¯ll set some aside for you. Food and water will help you recover more quickly.¡± Owen nodded in a detached manner since the vivid scenes from his nightmare were still roiling in his mind. Within moments, he was alone. The only sound in the room was the crackle of a small flame flickering in the fireplace. His fist still clenched the blanket to the point his knuckles turned white. The itchy bandages covering his chest wounds barely even registered in his mind. Then, his gaze rose toward the door. I need to hit something. Chapter 10 Without uttering a sound, Owen wrapped the mirage blanket around his torso and exited through the front door. Next door, a middle-aged woman who was pulling weeds from her garden gawked at his unruly appearance. Unperturbed, he simply wandered around the fence, following the dirt road toward the forest. Seconds blurred into minutes as he wandered among the trees near the edge of the forest. He subconsciously expected wildlife to be there. Nonetheless, no creature approached him. Instead of waiting for something to appear, he faced the nearest oak-like tree and pressed both fists against the rough bark. A second later, he pulled his hands away and looked at his knuckles. Jagged lines had been imprinted into his skin. From there, he grasped the trunk with open palms, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply through his nose. This lasted only a second until he pulled his right hand a few inches away, clenched it into a tight fist, and lightly jabbed the trunk. Dull pain caused by the unyielding and rugged bark coursed through his knuckle. Then he mirrored the action with his left hand. As images from his dream replayed in his mind, he repeatedly punched the bark, gradually increasing the weight behind each thrust. He continued to punch the trunk until the bark chipped away and his knuckles turned raw. Before long, the bark fell away to reveal dark brown wood. Emotional baggage weighed down his heart, causing his eyes to redden from both emotional and physical strain. Eventually, he stopped with both fists pressed against the bare wood which somehow didn''t sustain any damage. In contrast, his knuckles were raw and aching. Droplets of bright red blood oozed from multiple small cuts. This isn¡¯t enough. Further in. Fists itching to pummel something with give, he ambled deeper into the forest. Beating something to a pulp would clear his mind. It would make the painful memories go away, even if only temporarily. Suddenly, he noticed movement behind a bush. He beelined for the creature and rounded the bush. The creature had dark brown fur and stood on its hind legs. That was all he needed to know. It was a kanga digging in the dirt, likely for grubs. Not giving the creature a spare moment to notice him, he lunged toward it and kicked its ribs. It screeched as it tumbled over the grass a good meter or so, but quickly righted itself. Angry snarls reverberated from its throat. Although it seemed like some sort of intimidation attempt, Owen wasn¡¯t in a state of mind to pay it any heed. Instead, he lunged forward again. Like the beast it was, it tried to pull away, but Owen subconsciously predicted its movement and dropped an elbow right onto its skull, slamming it flat into the dirt face first. Perhaps a human would have passed out from that hit, but the kanga¡¯s leg muscles rippled and it lurched forward in an attempt to bite Owen¡¯s ankle. Unfortunately for the kanga, Owen never dropped his guard. With movements akin to a dance, he sidestepped the lunge and countered with a low kick to the kanga¡¯s gut. The animal, which could barely reach his hips if it stood straight, hurdled through the air a couple meters before smacking a tree trunk. With a final anguished squeak, it plopped on the ground unmoving. Not fooled at the kangas attempt at playing dead since he had seen it in the game, Owen dashed toward it and grabbed it by the neck. It squealed angrily and tried to kick him without success. Helpless in Owen¡¯s vice grip, it could only squeak weakly as he slammed it against the tree again. A sickening crack echoed in throughout the vicinity. The impact shattered its spine. Unfortunately, it was still kicking, so he slammed its head against the tough bark multiple times until its brain matter splattered against the trunk and it fell limp in his grasp. Shocked by the kanga¡¯s lack of endurance, he dropped the corpse and stared at his hands. They trembled from what he had just done, but the dark red blood staining them wasn¡¯t enough to erase the pain. He trekked deeper into the woods.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Although forest sounds such as birds and rustling leaves echoed all around him, he didn¡¯t notice any of it. Onward he walked until he spotted a small group of black-furred mammals nibbling on the carcass of something similar to a deer. It was a pack of rattilas, albeit a small one. Their capybara-like appearance certainly made them look harmless, but their calves bulged with a disgusting amount of muscle, and they tore through the carcass with their sharp fangs like wet tissue. Taking precautionary measures would have been the correct course of action, but Owen jumped out of the bushes and heel dropped on the neck of the nearest rattila. Similarly to the kanga, it was only stunned briefly, but Owen immediately followed up with a low kick to its abdomen. Through the bare skin of his foot, he felt a few of its ribs shatter. Its flailing body bowled over two of its kin, leaving three to charge toward him. Welcoming the challenge, Owen stepped up to face them. Skipping back on his toes, he avoided the first lunge and slammed a fist into the rattila¡¯s side near where its heart would be, knocking it onto its side. The second and third rattilas both tried to bite his legs, but he backstepped out of the way just in time and lowered his stance. Like the unintelligent creatures they were, the ratillas charged forward. Before they could gnaw on his legs, Owen threw out two jabs into their snouts, stopping them in their tracks. Then, he punctured their eyes with his thumbs. Movement in the corner of his vision forced him to leave those two rampaging blindly in order to intercept the two which had been bowled over by the one he had attacked first. That particular one was limping along behind these two. Along with them, the one he had punched in the side recovered itself and charged back into the fray as well. Since the rattila with broken ribs fell behind, he only had to fight three at once. Due to his current state of mind, he planted his feet in order to intercept with full force. If such an encounter had occurred the previous day, he would have employed more tactics, but he desperately wished to drown himself in combat right now. Within moments, the nearest rattila entered his striking range. Instinct moved his muscles as he lashed out with a full-power straight which cracked against the animal¡¯s face right between its eyes. At the same time, the second closest rattila lunged toward his left thigh with fangs bared. Intending to knock it away, Owen swiped downward with his defending arm, but the animal somehow proved to be more agile than the others. It twisted mid-lunge just enough to chomp down on his forearm. Serrated teeth tore right through his skin and lodged into the bone. Owen winced since the teeth were comparable to that of a mid-sized dog. However, he ignored it in favor of throwing a knee-kick into the lower jaw of the third rattila, dislocating it with a dull snap. With a pained whimper, it pulled back. Now that he was free to deal with the one chomping down on his arm, he jabbed its eyes in a similar manner to the previous two he blinded. However, instead of letting go, it chomped down in fierce resistance. Owen grunted, but adrenaline prevented him from feeling the full brunt of the bite. Since blinding it didn¡¯t work, he opted to pry its mouth open, which proved to be quite strenuous. Gripping its snout with his free hand, he wrested its jaws apart after a brief struggle just in time to notice another rattila bounding toward his right knee. On instinct, he lashed out with a low kick to the animal¡¯s underside. It flew back a few meters from the force, but left several scratches from its claws and a shallow bite mark in return. From there, he continuously fended off intermittent attacks from the unblinded ones while layering several full-force punches into the nearest blinded one. This continued until all the rattillas were writhing on the ground with blood leaking from their orifices due to internal bleeding from crumpled organs. Although semi-aware of the brutality, Owen focused on the discomfort of his injuries and the warmth of the blood coating his hands. The only words that came to mind were: Not enough. Chapter 11 Around the same time Owen started punching the tree, a hunter armed with a hunting bow knelt over some fresh kanga tracks and furrowed his brows. The tracks were relatively fresh. A kanga would definitely fill the kids¡¯ stomachs better than a few furrels or jarbits. It would taste better too. With that in mind, he knocked an arrow on his bow and followed the tracks until he discovered the prey digging in the dirt for grubs. There was a straight shot between two trees even from a notable distance. Since the animal was already distracted, the kill would be easy. The man took aim. Then, he imbued a small amount of spiritual energy into his eyes to enhance and extend his sight. A small imaginary target bloomed in his mind¡¯s eye. There was no wind; no alterations. He knew the arrow would pierce its heart. He pulled back on the bowstring, but right before letting loose the arrow, he saw something bigger move behind the bush next to the kanga. As a precaution, he carefully relaxed the bowstring in order to observe the situation. A moment later, a man wearing only undergarments and a blanket bounded around the bush and attacked the moderately dangerous omnivore with his bare fists. The bowman paled at the reckless action. However, he quickly recognized the strange man as the one he had brought into his home the previous night for treatment. What in the world was the guy doing out here attacking wild beasts? Unfortunately, he didn¡¯t have time to think of an answer before the guy started slamming the kanga¡¯s head against a tree trunk. He grimaced at the unadulterated brutality. Briefly, the bowman repented that he had brought such a dangerous person into his home, but then he noticed the wistful expression on the man¡¯s face. He looked¡­ sad? Mournful? The bowman recalled seeing similar expressions on his father¡¯s face in the past. Curiosity about the man¡¯s situation stirred within him. To the bowman¡¯s surprise, the strange man didn¡¯t even bother to absorb the remnant spiritual energy from the deceased kanga before traveling deeper into the forest as if in a trance. Wondering if he could somehow help this troubled man, the bowman nimbly climbed the nearest oak and followed the man from the treetops. When the strange man unhesitatingly attacked a small pack of rattilas, the bowman frowned. Part of him wanted to jump in and help when one of the ratilas successfully bit the guy¡¯s arm, but he stopped himself when he saw the somber expression on the man¡¯s face again. It wasn¡¯t the look of a man who reveled in fighting, nor was it the face of a man in pain. Is he¡­ punishing himself? The bowman wondered. Shortly after he thought such, he noticed three more rattilas charging toward the scene of combat a few hundred cubits opposite him. Figuring the man on the ground was already in over his head, he darted through the trees and retrieved three arrows from the quiver on his thigh. Since there were multiple targets, he not only used spiritual energy to enhance his sight further, but also imbued his arrows with it to improve their power and stability. [Thwip] [Thwip] [Thwip] Three arrows whizzed through the air in quick succession, gored through the hearts of the rattilas, and lodged themselves in the soil on the other side. The bowman scrunched up his nose since he had used more spiritual energy than necessary. He still hadn¡¯t adjusted to using it to strengthen his arrows yet. From there, he nimbly hopped down to the ground with a barely audible thump. Then, he swiftly retrieved the three arrows while absorbing the remnant spiritual energy from the corpses. After that, he climbed back into the treetops in order to follow the strange man. After the third time the guy jumped into a group of rattilas, he broke his silence by shouting like some sort of ogre. It was like he was voicing inner frustrations toward his targets while pummeling them. At least, that was how the bowman perceived it. The only strange thing was the the beasts never noticed the guy until he actually attacked them. Was it just a coincidence? This continued until late morning. For the most part, the bowman watched in solemn silence as the man on the ground recklessly charged into battle with stray kangas and small packs of rattilas. The only time he helped was when other rattilas attempted to ambush the guy as they were so keen on doing to unwary prey. Even then, he stayed out of sight. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Eventually, though, the man on the ground finished off the last of a pack of nine rattilas and stopped. He simply stood among the animal corpses covered in sweat, small wounds, and a mixture of both his blood and the blood of the animals he brutally pummeled. Although a weapon would have been more messy, he was still dotted with all shades of red. He panted with shallow breaths since he had been running from battle to battle without rest. Honestly, it was a pitiable appearance. Amidst the sounds of chirping, buzzing, and rustling of the forest, a somber atmosphere hung over the man. From the bowman¡¯s perspective, it was an eerie scene to behold. The man on the ground released his fists and blankly stared at his open palms as though deep in thought. Seeing this, the bowman considered descending from the treetops in order to speak with the man, but then shook his head and decided to give him some space to work out his emotions before confronting him. ~~~~~~~~~~ Now that Owen had brutally slaughtered almost a hundred wild animals with his bare hands, he stopped in order to collect his bearings. Although the nightmare affected him, he couldn¡¯t deny that he had just killed all of those animals. Times like these almost made him regret adopting his grandpa¡¯s creed of personal responsibility. One was responsible for one¡¯s own actions. This was yet another burden to carry. So much for trying to take the high road in not killing innocent animals. I really am a monster¡­ Owen mused while rubbing his temples. He recalled his nickname from his MMA days. Back then, he earned his nickname as ¡®The Ogre¡¯ due to his brutal outbursts in matches. It was exactly that bad habit of drown out his memories through his fists which came back to bite him when someone he accidentally injured came back for revenge and purposely destroyed his shoulder beyond repair. Feeling phantom pain, he rubbed his shoulder, smearing blood on the mirage blanket in the process. In a way, the restored shoulder made him feel like part of his retribution had been unjustly removed. An empty space remained. He lowered his head while thinking, I thought I had forgotten about that damn nightmare since it¡¯s been so long. While reflecting on his actions, his adrenaline slowly fizzled out. Several of the bites and scratches from the rattilas and kangas flared up. Exhaustion sapped away his energy like a leech. His muscles ached and cried out for rest. The wounds on his chest throbbed. Pus had stained the bandage. Owen grimaced at the fact that he had completely ignored his body¡¯s state until now. With a frown plastered on his face, he lumbered over to the nearest tree, sat down next to it, and entrusted it with his back. His arms rested on his knees. His eyes closed. Hoping to move on from his relapse, he opened his eyes and pulled up his status screen, almost like a person turning to their phone in an awkward situation. When it appeared, a thought suddenly occurred to him. Fighting those creatures hadn¡¯t granted him any experience. At least, he hadn¡¯t seen any notifications or anything during that time, and all the stats and levels were the same. The only difference from last time was that there was a ¡®none¡¯ in the secondary weapon slot, which reminded him he had left the wakizashi back at that house. Either way, the fact that those creatures died without even giving him experience left a sour taste in his mouth. On top of that, the only way of leveling up he knew from the Pathwalkers beta was ineffective. Moments later, a rustling in the trees attracted his attention. Briefly, he attempted to stand, but his soreness prevented him from rising to his feet. Instead, he remained sitting but tensed his muscles in anticipation just in case something dangerous appeared. If it wasn¡¯t a life or death situation, then there was no reason to force his weary body back into action. Much to Owen¡¯s relief, a human garbed in tan and green colored woolen cloth dropped down from the forest canopy a few meters away. Although Owen wondered how the man didn¡¯t break his ankles from the fall, he focused on the man¡¯s appearance and attitude. The man was somewhat short from Owen¡¯s perspective, but even through his loose clothing, his lean muscle was clearly visible. None of the man¡¯s body was visible since he even wore leather gloves and boots with high collars tipped with brownish gray fur. A green hood covered the man¡¯s head, obstructing a clear view of his face, but his posture was open and displayed zero hostile intent. To add to that, the man¡¯s main weapon, a shortbow, was casually slung over his shoulder. Besides, someone with malicious intentions would not have shown themselves. With all of that in mind, Owen relaxed his guard slightly. However, his eyes must have displayed some level of distrust, considering the man didn¡¯t approach immediately. Instead, he pulled back his hood and revealed a friendly smile full of mildly crooked teeth. Some sort of black clay was smeared on his prominent cheekbones. Messy brown hair short enough to barely touch his earlobes contrasted his large green eyes. The skin on his face was deeply tanned, indicating a mainly outdoor lifestyle. For some reason, he looked vaguely familiar. Apparently noticing Owen¡¯s confusion, the man scratched his head and spoke in a voice which sounded youthful and energetic as though he had just recently escaped the torment of puberty. ¡°Uh¡­ hi?¡± Chapter 12 The young man in front of Owen shuffled awkwardly after greeting him. Since Owen only narrowed his eyes with suspicion, the man cleared his throat and added. ¡°I guess you don¡¯t remember me. We did only see each other for a short time last night, and I¡¯m pretty forgettable, so it¡¯s not too surprising.¡± Eyes widening with understanding, Owen sighed a breath of relief. Then, he relaxed his guard and replied, ¡°Glad you¡¯re not a robber or something, but¡­¡± Owen paused and warily eyed the rattila corpses scattered around. Then, he refocused on the man and asked, ¡°What brings you here?¡± ¡°We~ll, about that,¡± the man stopped to chuckle awkwardly before continuing, ¡°I was out hunting in order to put some meat on the table, but then a half-naked guy suddenly jumped in and attacked the prey I was about to fire an arrow at.¡± Owen blinked. Was this guy attempting humor? He wasn¡¯t very good at it. Either way, Owen scratched his head and said, ¡°Sorry about that.¡± The man frowned and rubbed the back of his neck while saying, ¡°It¡¯s alright. I guess that was a poor attempt at making you smile. You seemed upset, so¡­ well, yeah.¡± Without realizing it, the corner of Owen¡¯s lips curled up, though only for a moment. Honestly, the young man¡¯s intentions were clear as day. Rather, his naivety was a little excessive, wasn¡¯t it? ¡°Thanks,¡± Owen muttered. ¡°Haha. You¡¯re welcome.¡± Now that his mind was calm on the surface, Owen realized that the movements of the man¡¯s lips didn¡¯t quite match the words coming out of his mouth. The incongruity made him feel uncomfortable. However, he suddenly thought to himself, Isn¡¯t this a good chance to hear what the native language sounds like? Thinking such, he lowered his head and used a mental command to temporarily shut off tutorial mode. A moment later, the man spoke again, but in a wholly unfamiliar tongue. Although the tone of voice was the same, the words themselves sounded like a slurred Latin-based language with a rhythmic flow to it. Owen pursed his lips since it was nothing like English. Learning it could wait until later. For now, he turned the tutorial mode back on just in time to hear the man asking a question. ¡°Oh, did you not hear me? Are you alright?¡± ¡°Hmm? Ah, yeah. I¡¯m fine. Just got distracted for a moment.¡± ¡°Oh, I see. Um, well, I asked if you wanted to come back to my house again to rest. Feverclaw¡¯s scratches aren¡¯t something to pass off as a normal wound. I¡¯m surprised you even got this far without collapsing.¡± Raising a brow, Owen glanced at the pus-stained bandages wrapped around his chest and asked, ¡°Feverclaw is¡­ that witherbear?¡± ¡°Yeah, the one with scars on its face. He¡¯s been a bit of a menace to the townsfolk recently, though he mostly stays in his own turf.¡± ¡°And there is something in his claws?¡± ¡°Yeah. Makes people sick, whatever it is. Local apothecary brewed a fairly effective antidote a few moons ago, though. Anyway, enough about that monster. You need rest.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want to intru- Ah, right, I left my sword there.¡± ¡°Well, that¡¯s two reasons to come, then.¡± Owen sighed. Although he didn¡¯t like the idea of turning to a stranger for help, especially for a second time, he wasn¡¯t exactly in a state where he could confidently refuse. That being said, he reluctantly replied, ¡°Sure. Just give me a moment to catch my breath.¡± ¡°No problem,¡± The man said. Without a hint of wariness, he sat down cross-legged a few meters away. Then, his eyes lit up as though he remembered something. A grin appeared on his lips as he added, ¡°I¡¯m Silas, by the way. You got a name, or should I just call you the half-naked hobo like the kids?¡± Owen¡¯s brows instantly furrowed as he retorted with, ¡°Who¡¯s a hobo?¡± ¡°Haha. That¡¯s just the impression of one of the younger boys named Theo.¡± ¡°Tch. Well, whatever. My name¡¯s Owen, and rather than a hobo, I¡¯m more of¡­ an unwilling traveller? Yeah, that about sums it up.¡± Silas¡¯ smile faded a little. Perhaps he interpreted extra meaning from those words, considering his next sentence was, ¡°I see¡­ Well, everyone¡¯s got their own circumstances.¡± Uninterested in resolving any misunderstanding, Owen rested his head against the tree trunk and lifted his gaze to the forest canopy. Leaves rustled in the silence until he muttered, ¡°I guess I should at least bury all these animals¡­¡±A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°About that,¡± Silas interjected, ¡°do you mind if I take a few of the kangas you killed?¡± ¡°Go for it. Not like I¡¯ve got the ability to do anything with them.¡± ¡°Did your pare- erm¡­ did you never learn how to process animals?¡± Owen eyed Silas with subdued curiosity. Somehow, the guy thought to refrain from delving into the topic of family. Perhaps he was more perceptive than his attitude suggested. While thinking such, Owen answered, ¡°No. Hunting for food wasn¡¯t normal where I came from.¡± ¡°Want to learn? It¡¯s a useful skill.¡± Scratching his chin, Owen replied, ¡°I¡¯ll feel even more indebted, but I can¡¯t really pass up that offer, so sure.¡± ¡°Do you feel well enough to carry a kanga or two? I want to retrace our steps to gather any of the ones scavengers haven¡¯t gotten to yet.¡± ¡°Maybe one or two.¡± Silas grinned and remarked, ¡°There¡¯s your repayment, then.¡± Once again, the man somehow managed to make Owen¡¯s lips to curl upward slightly. Thoughtfulness such as this was rather uncommon back in the metropolis he had been whisked away from. Back there, second guessing any stranger was normal. Helping a stranger would be looked on with suspicion. Something about the simplicity and purity of Silas¡¯ actions and words warmed Owen¡¯s heart, though he was too stubborn to let that show. ¡°Oh, and one other thing. I was wondering why you didn¡¯t collect the leftover spirit energy from the corpses.¡± Owen raised a brow. Was this about collecting experience, or something similar? It sounded like it. Noticing Owen¡¯s confusion, Silas hummed and scratched his cheek. Then, he asked, ¡°Did no Pathwalkers go back to where you¡¯re from during the return?¡± The question only added to Owen¡¯s confusion. Was Silas referring to players? Silas¡¯ brows furrowed at Owen¡¯s expression, so he followed up by asking, ¡°Do you not know who Pathwalkers are?¡± ¡°No, I know about Pathwalkers, but I think my understanding of them is a little different than yours,¡± Owen answered while giving much thought to each word. Hoping to figure out the situation a bit better without revealing too much about himself, he vaguely explained, ¡°You¡¯re right that there were no Pathwalkers from my area. I thought they would come to this world or something.¡± ¡°Huh. It seems no Pathwalkers got sent out from your area¡­ or maybe you weren¡¯t aware of it? But, yeah, some will be coming from another world soon. Raylea just got the notice from the Capital a fortnight ago.¡± The young man¡¯s face scrunched up as though he wanted to ask many things, but he eventually sighed and his expression relaxed. On the other hand, Owen rubbed his chin while wondering what the topic of Pathwalkers had to do with the supposed spirit energy. Moments later, Silas answered his question without him needing to ask. ¡°If no Pathwalkers returned to your area, it¡¯s no wonder you didn¡¯t learn anything about Spirit Arts or spirit energy. Luckily, my dad was a Pathwalker, and he taught me as much as he could before succumbing to illness.¡± Briefly, Silas paused, and Owen nodded in understanding. He quickly connected the dots. It seemed Pathwalkers got sent out from all worlds. What was with the Pathwalkers game then? However, his thoughts didn¡¯t prevent him from noticing the sadness in Silas¡¯ eyes when he mentioned his late father. Although the young man spoke the words as though it was a completely normal thing, he obviously missed his dad. Owen could relate to that more than he would have liked. Resuming his explanation, Silas said, ¡°Basically, when the Pathwalkers returned to Yotun, they taught everyone how to utilize Spirit Arts to an extent. A lot of the information was quickly gobbled up by governments and kingdoms, though our Legauria is better than most for helping citizens learn about it. If it wasn¡¯t for my dad, though, I wouldn¡¯t even know how to grow.¡± ¡°So absorbing the leftover spirit energy in corpses is something they brought back?¡± Silas nodded. ¡°Some people can¡¯t figure out how to do it even though it¡¯s common knowledge, but since my dad taught me, I try to help others learn as well.¡± For a few seconds, Owen stared at the young man with a raised brow. Did this kid not know how to be selfish? Either way, it didn¡¯t matter as long as he learned the proper way to level up here. He started to feel a little impatient. ¡°How do I do it?¡± ¡°Just touch the corpse and focus. You should feel something like a tickle. If you don¡¯t, try closing your eyes.¡± Owen nodded and slowly rose to his feet, groaning due to how much his muscles had stiffened. Then, while trudging over to the nearest rattila corpse, he said, ¡°I¡¯ll be ready to go after this. Don¡¯t want my muscles to freeze up any more.¡± ¡°Alright.¡± After hearing Silas¡¯ approval, Owen kneeled over the closest corpse and placed a hand on it. At first, he didn¡¯t feel anything, so he closed his eyes and focused on his hand. Shortly after, he noticed the ¡®tickle¡¯ that Silas had mentioned. It was more like a continuous yet subdued static shock. Behind him, he heard Silas speak again. ¡°Did you feel it?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°Okay. My dad told me to imagine that I was eating that feeling, almost like sucking in water through a tube.¡± Although the explanation was vague, Owen could think of many ways to describe it. He basically needed to become a vacuum cleaner. The image made him chuckle. He refocused on the strange energy and felt a tingling sensation in his arm. Contrary to his expectations, the energy quickly transferred over to him. It was like osmosis. He was an empty vessel, a void. By now, he changed his thoughts of becoming a vacuum to becoming a black hole. It was the strongest suction force he could imagine. A moment later, he realized he could not absorb any more of the energy. Instead, he focused on the barely noticeable current carrying it up through his arm. The current was slow, like molasses inching through a straw. Eventually, it reached his torso, and circled his ribcage once before settling near his heart. As though to verify the experience, a small screen appeared before him. He opened his eyes and glanced at it.
17 So-Uhl (Exp.) Obtained.
Immediately, Owen grinned. This was definitely the way to level up he had missed before. Interestingly enough, experience seemed to be called something else now. Was it based on the language here? He didn¡¯t know, but it didn¡¯t matter. This minute amount of energy was his first step toward becoming a true Pathfinder and returning to Earth. Chapter 13 ¡°Did you get it?¡± Silas asked, though his tone indicated the question was more of a formality. He probably already knew that Owen had succeeded. Apparently, while Owen was absorbing the spirit energy, he had walked over, though he remained a meter away to give him space. In response, Owen nodded and asked, ¡°Yes, but is there a faster way to do this? If it¡¯s always like this, I might end up getting ambushed in the middle of absorbing it or something.¡± Silas chuckled and crossed his arms. ¡°I asked my dad the same thing back when he taught me. He said it gets faster as you continue doing it. Ever heard of a Spark?¡± Upon hearing the familiar word, Owen immediately thought of the innate skill in his skill list. He wasn¡¯t an idiot. Since Silas asked if he knew about it, then it obviously had something to do with spirit energy, as well as his level. ¡°I¡¯ve heard of it,¡± Owen said, nodding. Silas blinked. He was genuinely surprised, but shook his head and chuckled at himself while saying, ¡°So you heard about the Spark without knowing any Pathwalkers.¡± Then, he looked at Owen¡¯s expression and realized something. ¡°I¡¯m guessing you don¡¯t know anything else about it, based on your face.¡± Owen affirmed the statement with a shrug. ¡°Well, it¡¯s like a cup inside our soul that can hold energy and strengthens as we absorb more spiritual energy. That¡¯s about all my dad was able to learn about it though. Some of the Pathwalkers who were at the forefront of power probably know more.¡± ¡°Interesting¡­¡± Owen mumbled to himself while rubbing his chin. The ¡®pathway¡¯ the spiritual energy traveled through was probably something like a vein which could carry spirit energy. The only thing he struggled with was one word Silas mentioned. Soul. Did souls really exist? If so, then that alone would shatter a large part of his worldview. The few days he had spent here were enough for him to realize he wasn¡¯t even at the level of a frog in a well, nor even a drop in the ocean. He was just a speck of dust in a vast universe. It was a humbling thought. He thought of some of the pantheists who used to visit his gym and how they used to discuss chi and inner pathways. At the time, he thought they were spiritual nutjobs, but perhaps there was more to their ramblings than he thought. Their misguided cult-like behavior made him less willing to accept that something similar would exist, but it did make sense that someone might have somehow discovered the existence of Sparks and somehow exaggerated it into a religion. Rather than accepting their take on it, he closed his eyes and tried focusing on the Spark inside himself. If he hadn¡¯t absorbed spirit energy from the ratilla, he would have never realized its existence. The only strange thing was that other than the energy which settled near his heart, he could also sense a small crystal-shaped thing in his lower abdomen. Was the Spark not located around his heart? Hoping for an answer, Owen opened his eyes and asked, ¡°Where is the Spark usually located?¡± Silas¡¯ brows furrowed briefly with evident concern as he answered, ¡°It should be near the center of your waist. Why do you ask?¡± ¡°The energy ended up near my heart.¡± Upon hearing that, Silas¡¯ face darkened. ¡°Is that bad?¡± Owen asked. ¡°No, not exactly. There are multiple places in our bodies that can hold spiritual energy, but it won¡¯t make you stronger unless it goes into your Spark. I¡¯m guessing your spirit veins are clogged or something, which makes sense if you never learned Spirit Arts. You can still absorb the spiritual energy from the corpses on the way back, but absorbing large amounts of energy without opening your spirit veins can have horrible consequences, like your heart stopping or internal bleeding.¡± Eyes narrowed, Owen glared at the young man and said, ¡°Would¡¯ve been nice to have some warning.¡± Silas bowed with hands clasped in front of his chest while replying, ¡°Sorry. That was my fault for not thinking to keep your situation in mind.¡± The sincere apology caught Owen off guard. It wasn¡¯t a reaction he was accustomed to since most people back home tended to be obstinate. He could only sigh and say, ¡°Nevermind. Just tell me how to open my veins and we¡¯ll call it even.¡± ¡°Sure,¡± Silas replied, rising from his bow. ¡°It will take some time to open them, so it¡¯s better if you absorb all the energy from the corpses on our way back, and then you can open your veins once you¡¯re in a safe environment.¡±This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. ¡°As long as it doesn¡¯t kill me, it¡¯s fine.¡± ¡°Umm¡­ Yeah. Well, after you absorb the energy from the other ratillas here, follow me. I made notes of where all the corpses are.¡± With that, Owen nodded and absorbed the spiritual energy from the corpses one-by-one. Each time he absorbed energy, the so-called spirit veins gradually became more noticeable. He wasn¡¯t sure if they were physical, metaphysical, or anything, but he could definitely feel them. Once he was finished with the ratillas in the immediate vicinity, Silas led him through the woods until they encountered a kanga corpse. After Owen absorbed the spiritual energy from the corpse, Silas procured some surprisingly heavy duty twine from one of his pouches, tied its legs together, and slung it onto a small hook which was strapped over his shoulder. From there, they gradually traipsed through Barkstone Forest at a leisurely pace. Many expressions crossed Silas¡¯ face, much to Owen¡¯s amusement. It was pretty obvious that the guy was normally the talkative type but was restraining himself for Owen¡¯s sake. Occasionally, Silas initiated small talk, but the two otherwise traveled in silence, which Owen was perfectly fine with at this point in time. It would probably take another day or two for his mind to settle into a more reasonable state, anyway. About an hour later, Owen absorbed the so-called So-uhl from the last kanga, which Silas afterwards tied up for him to carry. Altogether, there were six kangas. Silas carried four of them on his back while Owen carried two. Shortly after they set off again, Silas muttered something which caught him by surprise. ¡°Shame they won¡¯t taste as good since they weren¡¯t killed instantly.¡± Brow raised, Owen asked, ¡°They taste better if killed quickly?¡± ¡°All animals do. The longer they suffer, the worse they taste. There¡¯s even a verse in the Pneumacon about how we shouldn¡¯t let the creatures we hunt as sustenance suffer.¡± Briefly, Owen furrowed his brows at the mention of what sounded like a religious text, but he quickly moved on by saying, ¡°That¡¯s a rather practical teaching, I guess.¡± ¡°It is. You don¡¯t seem too familiar with Aeonism?¡± ¡°No.¡± Silas rubbed his chin and his brows wrinkled from contemplation. ¡°You really must¡¯ve come a long way, then¡­ Erm¡­ Well, Aeonism is the main religion in Legauria, so it might be in your best interests to learn a bit about it.¡± Owen almost declined since he didn¡¯t have much interest in seeking out the local religion, but he quickly realized Silas wasn¡¯t trying to convert him or anything. Indeed, learning something about the religion could potentially help him avoid unwanted trouble or maybe even open up avenues for growth in this foreign world. Perhaps a link to the so-called Spirit Arts could be found within. If there was one thing he was lacking most, aside from clothing, it was information. He couldn¡¯t afford to turn away from an opportunity to learn more about his current situation. Eventually, he nodded and muttered, ¡°I might just do that.¡± ¡°Want a copy of the Pneumacon, then?¡± ¡°If you have an extra, sure, not that I have anywhere to store it right now.¡± Suddenly, Silas¡¯ lips widened into a smile. ¡°If you need a place to stay, you can always stay at my place. We¡¯ve already got a slough of freeloading kids. One more can¡¯t hurt.¡± Owen clicked his tongue, partly to avoid grinning at the generous offer and partly at the fact that a guy almost ten years his younger just called him a kid. This young man he had just met wore his emotions on his sleeve and was obviously trustworthy. However, the guy seemed to trust him enough to invite him into his home already. Was Silas simply a fool, or did he have some other reason? Thinking along these lines, Owen asked, ¡°Are you sure you want to let a dangerous guy like me into your house?¡± ¡°Haha. You might be strong and dangerous, but so am I. Strength is just a tool, yeah? Though, I guess I¡¯m a bit less brutal¡­ Anyway, I have a good eye for people. It¡¯s fine.¡± A sigh slipped from Owen¡¯s lips. This guy really was naive. It wasn¡¯t a lie that Silas could probably wipe the floor with him. His footsteps were light as a feather and his stamina was leagues above most fighters Owen knew. Just walking alongside Silas and observing his movements gave Owen an idea of his raw capabilities. Mentally simulating a spar was still a bit difficult since he hadn¡¯t seen him fight, but he knew he would lose handedly if they did exchange blows. Most likely, there were a few levels of difference, though Owen didn¡¯t know how much. While Owen was busy simulating a spar in his head, the edge of Raylea came into view. Puffs of smoke wafted from a few chimneys beyond the treeline. Clucking from small birds similar to chickens but with black feathers entered his ears alongside subdued voices from townsfolk interacting with each other. The atmosphere was rather quaint. It soothed his soul in a different way from the beauty of the forest. Perhaps living around here wouldn¡¯t be so bad. However, he knew he needed to get stronger, and defeating stronger beasts would probably become a daily necessity. Staying in Raylea would be fine for a few days, but living the life of a vagabond suited his needs more. ¡°Well,¡± Silas said, interrupting Owen¡¯s thoughts, ¡°we¡¯re back.You decided whether or not you want to stay at my place?¡± ¡°Maybe for a few days until I get my bearings.¡± A smile appeared on Silas¡¯ face again. ¡°Great. I¡¯m always happy to help a guy down on his luck.¡± ¡°Thanks.¡± Silas nodded. Although Owen didn¡¯t know it, Silas¡¯ main reason for inviting him to stay at his house remained only in his thoughts. Even without the teachings of Aeonism, it was simply in his nature to not leave hurting people to their own devices. Every time he helped someone, it made him feel like life was still worth living.