Runeguard 007

This time I did not head south towards the river.

Instead I marched across the field and followed the cobbled road into the forest. Both the field and forest were silent. Pausing at the edge of the treeline, I took a moment to study its depths. The darkness enshrouding the wooded area was so complete that I lost sight of the cobbled road after only a few feet.

For a moment I wondered if venturing into the forest—before dawn especially—was the wisest course. Yet the encounter with Max and Osten had made me wary of my fellow humans, and I felt it best to head into the wilderness while no one was around to watch me.

Shoring up my courage, I advanced into the forest. Within a few steps, blackness wrapped me on all sides and I lost sight of the town entirely. 

I turned a slow circle. In fact, if not for the lighter patches of darkness to my south and north—which I took to be the cobbled road—I would have been completely lost. Fighting the urge to retreat south, I faced determinedly north and followed the blur of white deeper into the forest.

✵ ✵ ✵

Two hours later, I was still walking. 

To my immense relief, nothing had sprung out of the darkness to ambush me, and dawn arrived with me none the worse. As the first rays of sunlight filtered through the forest, I paused to rest. For the last few minutes, the night’s darkness had rapidly retreated, allowing me to behold the trees looming large on either side of the road.

I was no woodsman and couldn’t tell the trees apart, but one and all, they were large and heavily laden with leaves. Foliage and underbrush lay thick on the ground too. It would make venturing off the road and into the forest difficult, and I was wary of trying. 

Daylight, I suspected, would not stop me from getting lost once I lost sight of the road. Which made me again question the wisdom of my whole venture into the woods. But I had wanted to see where the road led, and still did.

Rising to my feet, I continued walking. The road had to lead somewhere, and I was determined to find out where.

I kept at it for another hour, sipping every so often from my flask of water. The road was not straight. It weaved left and right, and bucked up and down, following the contours of the land.

The forest surrounding the town was immense, and the many valleys littering its depths could be hiding anything. I itched to explore them.

But before my curiosity could get the better of me, I noticed a change. To the north, a grayish blur had become visible above the forest’s green giants. All along the horizon, from left to right, it stained the blue sky.

As I got closer, the blur resolved itself into a wall—a stone wall rising what had to be many hundreds of feet into the air.

My gaze fixed on the wall, I kept walking. “What is that, Adi?”

“That is the boundary of Creche 1050. The wall will encircle the entirety of the Creche.”

I frowned, wondering if I would have run across the boundary’s southern end if I had continued my exploration further south along the river. “How high is it?”

“High enough to bar passage everywhere except at the Creche’s exit portal.”

Before I could question Adi further, the forest came to an abrupt end.

I stood on the wood’s northern treeline and took in the wall, beholding its immensity for the first time while unobscured by the forest. Less than a hundred yards away, it rose up from the ground and disappeared into the sky—a mammoth structure that put even the great wall of China to shame.

“It’s amazing,” I breathed. With a more nervous tread, I advanced down the cobbled road. The road headed directly to the wall, and the small curtain of shimmering blue cut into it.

I stopped before the glittering field. Whatever the flows of blue energy swirling in its depths were, they were opaque and gave no hint of what lay beyond. “This is the exit portal?” I guessed.

“Correct, Dace.”

“How do I use it?”

“You only need to walk through and the portal will transport you to a predetermined location in Sector 52.”

“That easy?” I muttered, more to myself than Adi. She answered nevertheless.

“The exit portal is meant to be both easy to use and find. At the moment, the portal itself and the cobbled highway leading up to it, are protected by the System. It is why none of the forest’s creatures disturbed you while you were on the road.”

Hmm, I mused. “So, the road has the same protections as the town?”

“Correct.”

That was good to know. I had been surprised that I had made it this far into the forest without being attacked. Now, I knew why.

The highway would make a secure base from which to explore the forest. At least, when it came to non-human threats. However, like the town’s protections, it would do nothing to stop assaults from my fellow humans.

But despite both the human and non-human dangers, I knew I could not exit the Creche yet. 

I still hadn’t completed any of my assigned secondary objectives, and before I faced the greater unknown of Sector 52, I wanted to be better prepared. Which meant hitting the Creche’s level cap, filling all my Nodes, obtaining a Class, and most importantly, creating as large a stockpile of rebirth tokens as I could.

With a thoughtful step, I headed back south along the road. I had found what I had set out to, and now I needed to figure out how to begin my exploration of the forest. 

✵ ✵ ✵

It was thirty minutes later, while dreaming up ideas of gouging trees to mark my passage, that I came across something that made me pause.

It was a trail.

The trail was almost fully obscured by the underbrush, and it was only by some trick of light and shadows that I noticed it. 

On my way north, I had failed to see it at all. Removing my dagger from my inventory, I cut away the nearby brush and foliage.

What lay revealed when I was done, was clear evidence of a path. Bending down, I examined it more closely. The trail—no more than a half-foot width of flattened grass—headed deeper west into the forest.

What made the path? I wondered. Forest creatures? Putting my nose nearly to the ground, I examined it for tracks. 

I failed to find any.

Sitting back, I frowned. If this was a game trail, where did it lead to? Surely it did not begin or end at the road itself?

Rising to my feet, I inspected the opposite side of the road. My hunch proved correct. On the right side of the road, the trail continued onwards.

You have gained the perception skill: scouting!

You have found a game trail, but have failed to determine the source of the tracks.

I waved away the System alert. While it was nice to have acquired another skill, right now it was more of a distraction than anything else. 

According to what Adi had said, wild creatures could not walk upon the road—which meant the game trail had to have existed before the road was built. 

I studied the cobbled road. It looked like it had lain here since forever. I scratched my head. Just how new was the road? Or for that matter, the Creche and its boundary walls? 

Had the Creche only been created a day or so ago—when humanity had entered the Proving Grounds? And if that was the case, what was the System and its Creators that they had the power to fashion all this? And in days, no less?

It was a disturbing bit of speculation but one, that without further data, I was forced to shelve. 

Glancing east and west at the two halves of the game trail cutting across the road, I wondered which to explore first. As long as I stayed on the trail, I would have an easy way of finding the road again.

With a shrug, I chose at random, and headed down the path heading east.

About a hundred yards down the trail, I heard the gurgle of water. I was approaching a stream or river. Nothing had attacked me in the forest so far, but at the shores of a river, I knew I was more likely to encounter wildlife.

I dropped into a crouch, and with sword and shield in hand, padded closer. A few yards from the river, the forest opened into a clearing. The area was empty, but in the river itself, I spied a bear. It seemed to be fishing. 

For a minute, I watched from the clearing’s edge, but didn’t see any other signs of life. The bear was alone.

I fingered my sword, wondering what to do. So far the bear was unaware of me. Did I retreat? Or attack? I wasn’t sure if I could defeat the beast.

Studying the bear intently, I looked for clues as to its nature. The beast was partially submerged so I couldn’t tell much about its height. It looked large though, and it was wide, nearly twice my own width. Its coat was brown and its muzzle looked fearsome.

You have gained the perception skill: insight!

You have examined a bear and have perceived more of its nature. Your target is a level 5 brown bear.

I grinned at the System message. Already, absorbing the perception Essence was yielding dividends. The beast’s level was exactly the information I required.

“Level five,” I mused. The bear was the same level as me. I could take it, I decided. I would only have to be smart about how I went about it.

I gazed down at my shield. It would be of little use in the battle. Given the bear’s size and potential strength, blocking any of the beast's attacks was likely to be a fool’s endeavor. 

Better to free myself of the shield and use the increased mobility to dodge. Decided, I stored the shield in my inventory, and moved my scabbard from my hip to my back. Then, with my sword sheathed again, I crept into the clearing.

Your sneaking has increased to rank 5. 

Preoccupied with its fishing, the bear didn’t see me until I was almost up to the waterline. 

Then it reacted.

Dropping the fish from its mouth, the bear roared a challenge.

I wasn’t intimidated. Setting my stance, I drew my sword and waited.

In a flurry of water and fury the bear charged. I waited until the last moment, then sidestepped and brought my longsword slashing down the beast’s side. Bright, red blood spurted as the blade bit deep.

The bear huffed in pain and tried to turn and snap at me, but the momentum of its own charge had already carried it out of range.

Keeping a wary eye on my prey, I paced to the center of the clearing while ignoring the slight tremble to my limbs and the uneasy flutter of my pulse. The bear was larger than I expected and came up nearly to my shoulder.

This is going to hurt, I thought bleakly.

 At the far end of the clearing, the beast ground to a halt and reversed its charge.

Again, I waited.

An instant before contact, I dodged. Once more, the bear tried to adjust to my motion, but was again defeated by its own bulk. I hacked down with my sword, and drew another line of red along the beast’s torso.

Then I set my stance and waited, ready to repeat my maneuver however many times it was necessary. This battle, I knew, was not going to be won quickly. No, it was going to be a war of attrition.

I would have to wear my foe down—blow by blow—while staying out of reach of its own attacks.

The bear came at me again. Unfortunately, it had appeared to have learned from its previous failures and this time approached me much slower.

When it reached me, it ground to a halt and reared up. Standing on its hind legs, the bear roared, challenging me with both its stance and voice.

I didn’t take the bait. 

As tempting as it was to duck under the beast’s massive paws and score a line across its midriff, I knew doing so would be a mistake. I had to keep the range opened between us.

In seeming disappointment, the bear dropped to all fours and eyed me from less than a yard away.

I didn’t move. 

Instinct was telling me to run, but I knew the moment I turned my back, the beast would charge. 

The bear lumbered forward. I danced right and chopped down with my sword.

But the beast had cunning of its own, and ignoring my own blow, altered its course to follow me.

As my blade crunched down on the bear’s muzzle it struck out with a heavy, clawed paw. I tried evading, but with my balance upset by my own strike, I failed to dodge in time.

Four lines of fire ripped down my leg, almost cutting my feet out from under me. I halted my fall—barely—and hopped back, frantic to open the gap between me and the bear.

The beast didn’t let me. 

Sensing victory at hand, it rolled forward. I struck out with my sword, attempting to keep the beast at bay, and scored another line across its snout.

The bear was undaunted. Ignoring the hit, it ploughed into me. Before I could recover, I was bowled over. 

Oohf. The breath escaped my chest in one violent motion as the beast pinned me down with a massive paw. Its second foreleg blurred forward to swipe at my face.

I still had my sword in hand. In desperation, I thrust it upward, straight towards the incoming paw.

I wasn’t sure what I had hoped to accomplish with my counter strike. More than anything else, it had been an instinctive reaction.

But it worked.

Blade met paw head on, and blade worn. The sword pierced skin, flesh, and bone with ease and buried itself up to the hilt in the beast’s foot.

The bear tried to retract its paw, but with my blade already lodged deep within the appendage, its actions only served to wrench the sword from my grasp.

With sinking heart, I watched my weapon go.

The wound I had inflicted was a deep one—perhaps even a fatal one—but it would not fell the beast immediately. It would be long minutes before the bear bled out.

Minutes I didn’t have.

Huffing in pain, the beast planted its skewered leg next to me, trapping my sword underfoot. The bear had to be in agony, but with its prize within its grasp, the beast seemed intent on ignoring its injuries. 

I wrenched my head to the side, eyes locked onto the sword. There was no way I could retrieve it.

The bear lowered its head, putting its muzzle inches from my face while it stared at me. Salvia dripped from the beast’s mouth and its hot, fetid breath warmed my face. 

I stared back, not daring to move. I was cornered and I knew it.

This is it, Dace, I thought.

Assured that I remained cowed and helpless, the bear raised its head and roared its triumph to the forest.

I stared up at its exposed jugular. Any second now, I knew the beast was going to jab down and rip out my throat.

So close, I thought. If only I had a blade in reach—

My eyes widened as realization hit. Of course.

I opened my inventory and willed the thieves’ blades out. The daggers appeared on the ground, inches from my left arm. I grabbed one with my left hand, and flung my right hand across to grab the other. My fingers found the hilt.

Yes! I exulted.

The bear sensed the motion and swung its head back down. Then its jaws snapped down.

I was ready to meet it.

Thrusting my left hand upwards and straight into the beast’s gaping jaw, I buried the dagger into the bear’s upper palette.

The beast yelped in surprise and bit down on my arm, attempting to gnaw it off. I ignored the pain, and with the blade in my right hand stabbed through the side of the beast’s head, impaling its eye.

The bear huffed in agony and tried to duck its head to escape the blades. I wasn’t done yet though. Yanking out the dagger, I shoved it back into the bear’s head.

In adrenaline infused panic, I kept stabbing, aiming for an eye, ear, or any other vulnerable spot.

The pain was too much for the bear to endure. Moaning, it tried to flee. But I didn’t let up. Clinging onto its retreating figure, I thrust my blade repeatedly into it.

In and out, over and again, I stabbed, my mind a feral haze. Blood spurted and washed into my mouth in copious amounts, almost choking me.

I spat it out and kept stabbing.

“The bear is dead, Dace.” 

Adi’s tone—troubled and somber— more than her words, yanked me free of my berserker rage. 

I froze. 

I was drenched in blood. My face, arms, and clothes were all painted red.

“It is?”

“It is.”

“Alrighty then,” I said, and slumped back against the ground, succumbing to the pain riddling my body.