Haven't been brutally assaulted yet…
Maybe that bartender didn't lie to me this time.
The forest had a strange stillness to it — birds didn't sing, and even the wind seemed hesitant to pass through. The path ahead was narrow, barely more than a trail, but alas the map pointed this way.
Suddenly, a rotting smell appeared, causing Abraham to start violently gagging.
"Holy shit," he muttered aloud, eyes watering. "What on earth is that smell?"
He took another step forward and heard a squelching sound underneath his black shoe.
Abraham recoiled instantly, face contorting in disgust. He looked down.
Flesh.
He then noticed a bloodied trail up ahead.
Ahh fuck. Did that bartender screw me over?
Jaw clenched, Abraham followed the red trail.
It led to a small opening surrounded by trees.
He noticed at one of the trees a body of an animal lay there decomposing.
Nasty shit.
He moved a bit closer to get a better view and noticed three of those stupid dog-things there eating it.
"Oh you gotta be kidding me." He said out loud…
One of the dog-things looked up at him and then screamed.
Abraham jumped back and pulled Daylight out of his inventory, its blade shimmering with the urge to shed blood.
Its body was hulking — far larger than the others — with thick, sinewy limbs and claws that could probably shred steel. Jagged spikes jutted out from its spine like broken bones trying to escape skin, and its eyes were glowing faintly, almost… intelligent.
"Ah," Abraham muttered grimly, "of course there's a freak variant."
The mutated dog-thing didn't growl but commanded the other two minor variants to attack him as it continued to feast on the carcass.
One of the dog-things pounced at him, forcing Abraham to roll to the side.
The other dog pounced following his dodge, giving him no space to breathe.
Abraham lunged forward, despite his poor swordsmanship, he was very desperate to win, and that's what kept him alive.
The blade moved almost on its own — a gleam of silver light trailing behind as he slashed upward, splitting the throat of one of the dogs. It let out a yelp before dying.
[+5]
'Oh, cool, that gave me five pulses." Abraham thought to himself, dodging another attack from the other dog-thing.
The dog leaped up at him once more.
"Oh hell no, I am NOT getting blood on this lovely set of clothes," he yelled, "It was a gift from a good friend of mine!"
With that, Abraham grabbed the slashing paw of the dog and sliced it off, causing it to scream out to its master. It fell to the floor and groaned in pain from missing its hand.
Abraham walked up to it and stabbed it in the head. "These guys seem to get easier to kill."
[+5]
After killing the other dog-thing, the weird mutated one finally turned its full attention to Abraham.
"Boss battle already?" He said to himself confidently. Although, in all reality, he was anything but confident. He was practically shitting himself.
The creature roared and prepared to pounce.
Abraham braced, preparing for the full impact of the attack. He was too tired to dodge without getting hit now.
It leaped. But then suddenly, the side of its body was hit by a raging ball of fire. Abraham, stunned, stared at the wolf thing rolling around on the ground in an attempt to put out the flames.
Making the most of this opportunity, he lunged and sliced its head off.
[+10]
"That thing gave me ten??" He said out loud, his lips curving upwards.
A stranger entered the clearing.
Her hair was long and brown, tied loosely behind her. Green eyes shimmered softly in the light, taking in the carnage without a word. She wore a faded tunic and travel-worn boots, looking like someone who didn't come here to fight — but knew how to survive.
"Did you say… ten?" She asked, curiosity gleaming her eyes, "Ten of what?"
Who the fuck is this…
"Uh, yeah, I got ten pulses."
She froze in place, almost stunned.
"You do know… you're only meant to gain one per kill, right?"
"Uh, what?" Abraham stared at her with confusion.
"Just give me your hand, you're probably bullshitting."
She suddenly grabbed his hand, causing Abraham to stare in shock.
His panel opened up displaying his stats:
He opened up the panel again and looked at his stats.
[Name: Abraham]
[Age: 20]
[Rank: Dormant]
[Attribute: Combat]
[Pulse: 41]
[Traits: —]
[Titles: —]
[Equipment: Rusty Knife, Daylight]
Her jaw dropped.
"Forty-one??"
Abraham was even more confused now.
"Yeah? What of it?"
"You killed three hounds. THREE."
"You're casually nine pulses away from becoming an Ignited — that's not normal." She sighed. "Okay, maybe you killed like thirty-eight other beasts before?"
Abraham chuffed. "Nope. I've been running from monsters all my life. I'm a proud coward!"
The woman looked at him as if she was staring at a walking war crime.
Abraham then followed up with: "You… can let go of my hand now, y'know?"
She didn't respond. Abraham looked at her face and noticed that a cold sweat was rolling down her forehead.
"Hey..? Wakey wakey, idiot. You're still holding onto my hand"
She glanced up at him. "What is up… with your attribute."
"What do you even mean, it's a combat attribute?"
"No, no. This is more than just a combat attribute. You're like me. But not at the same time.."
"The fuck does that mean??"
"Your attribute is sacred." She said bluntly.
Abraham just blinked at her, and said: "Neat. Still holding my hand, though."
She stared at him, stunned he didn't even flinch. Then, reluctantly, she let go.
"Thank you, much appreciated," Abraham said, holding his fist, "Now, who are you?"
The woman rolled her eyes and sighed. "Name's Solara. I'm an up and coming sorcerer! Or sorceress? Whatever the word is."
Abraham stared at her and raised a brow. "Well, Solara the Whatever, thanks for the dramatic stat read and existential panic. Do you usually grab people's hands and stare at them like a hawk?"
She crossed her arms. "No this was just a one-off in consequence to your insane pulse gain, WHICH I still don't understand."
Abraham clicked his tongue, "Well neither do I. I thought this was a normal thing for everyone."
She exhaled and then asked, "Where are you even headed?"
Abraham scratched the back of his head. "Well I was heading towards some port to meet a group of weird timmytent pirates or whatever."
Solara's eyes suddenly widened. "Mind if I come along, Abraham?"
He stared at her in disbelief. "How do you know my na—" he started, but she cut him off sharply.
"When I grabbed your hand, dumbass."
"Oh. Should've said magic, would've been funnier." He chuffed, using air quotes in mock of the word 'magic'. "Well, you can tag along. It gets pretty boring on my own."
They turned and began to follow the same dirt trail shown on the map.