Eli sat in silence as his friend rambled for several moments, asking question after question. He was enjoying the moment, watching a tiny piece of himself flying through the sky, unworried and free. After nearly five minutes of the Turta’s pestering, Eli stood, grabbed his friend's shoulder, and sent a mental nudge to his familiar to follow.
“His name’s Harley,” Eli said as the two walked out of the Temple, his familiar landing on his shoulder. “As to why I don’t have a shirt. That’s going to take a while.”
The two walked, as Eli explained everything that happened in the altar room. Needing a new piece of armor and a weapon, he led his friend towards one of the few trees left standing on the island. The young oak sat near the bank of the northern river, surrounded by a small mound of rubble. How it had survived the impact of the golem was beyond Eli, but that did not matter. What mattered was that it was alive.
Once Eli was within range, he focused on his craft object spell, and drew upon the essence from the surrounding air. The tree, grass, and small critters all gave off unique energy that tingled at Eli’s senses as the spell formed. With each step closer to the tree, he felt new forms of energy creep into his own. He felt the presence of beasts. There were fish in the river, and other much larger creatures. He could feel their presence, their properties, and ideas took hold.
The create object spell allowed him to create items, using different qualities from nature itself. The rigidity of tree bark, fused with the flexibility and toughness of a river shark’s hide. As he pulled from his surroundings, a tunic took shape, slowly covering his once bare chest. Leather-like skin, a cloudy blue-gray color with hints of white, hugged his torso. Living vines stitched the individual sections together, creating a solid bond. Smooth overlapping plates of bark grafted themselves to the hide, reinforced by nearly translucent scales from a nearby fish. For an underlay, he used the soft fur of a nearby rabbit. The process took only five seconds and drained him of a quarter of his mana, but the results were astounding.
*Reinforced River Shark Hide Tunic.
Armor: 22 | Slot: Chest | Size: Medium | Durability: 40/40 | Quality: Above Average | Rarity: Uncommon | Weight: 7 lbs | Effects: Reinforced. Fitted.
Fitted: This item has been fitted to Eli Miller. Movement speed penalty is reduced by 50% while worn by the intended user.
Reinforced: This item has been reinforced—+10 Durability.
“Dude, I want some. Like now.” Don exclaimed, after witnessing his friend sprout new armor as if I grew it from his own body.
“I can’t just pop this stuff out, there’s a cooldown of an hour, and it costs nearly a quarter of my mana. Besides, no one else but me can wear the stuff I make. But don’t worry. I’ll make sure we all have decent quality armor and weapons.” Eli said before adding. “It’s pretty good for being free. But, it’s not nearly as good as enchanted armor, or the stuff created by a good smith. That blackened chain shirt I found is better, but I can’t wear it anymore.”
“Better than this starter garbage I’ve been wearing, well except for maybe my new robe,” Don replied.
After crafting armor for himself, Eli started thinking of a plan for what to accomplish before the new villagers arrived. While Don and Michelle worked on cleaning the place up, Eli would experiment with his new spells and abilities. They also needed to find a set of working tools to start construction. Another problem was getting the new citizens to the Temple. Someone needed to guide them, and rough trails would only get them so far. Their primary issue was tools and manpower; without them, nothing would get done. After looking through his treasure, finding only simple construction tools, Eli knew what he needed to do. There were only two places to acquire the most critical tools, the anvil and smiths tools: Dawnport and his old cabin.
Eli had been avoiding returning to the cabin, not wanting to face what happened, but now he had no other choice. He needed tools, and he had at least one set of blacksmiths, tanners, and herbalists tools at his former home if they were still there.
With his mind made up, he called out to Don, “Hey, I need you to guide everyone here. They won’t be able to find this place on their own. They may need some help with monsters or blighted goblins. We don’t know what’s out there still.”
“Got it, man. I was thinking the same thing.” The Turta nodded in response.
“Can you also ask Michelle to stay here to guard the place. The defenses are up, but if anyone sneaks in, they could do all sorts of damage. We also need to work on clearing at least one large plot and one smaller plot for a shrine and something called a Packhouse.”
“A what-house?” Don asked.
Eli sighed, not wanting to waste time and dreading his decision, “It’s some sort of Wolffen longhouse or something. It holds about fifty people comfortably. It has a bathroom and a kitchen, that’s all I know. It should be a good place to start.” He paused, knowing he was missing something. “Oh, let Michelle know there’s going to be a magical helper to boss around while I’m gone. As Assistant Guild Leader, you should also have access to some guild and stronghold options. So, if she needs anything, just do it. Keep that woman happy; I don’t want to deal with a pissed off Troll when I get back.”
At Eli’s mention of leaving, Don looked at him, knowingly, “Wait, what are you going to do?”
“I have to head to my old cabin for some equipment. Should take me a day, maybe two if I’m alone.” Eli responded, his voice tainted with dread. “We need tools.”
“You sure, man. I can go with you; then, we can both meet up with everyone. You don’t have to do that alone.” Don started.
Eli paused, not expecting his friend's response. He had told him everything but was still wary of involving him in his personal life. Knowing that this was something he needed to do alone, he shook his head.
“Yeah, we can’t miss them. If they get lost out there, people could die. You need to leave after you’re done getting ready.” With their plan set, Eli darted off, looking for something to blast with arcane missiles.
At first, the sight of pure mana, mixed with natural energy, Eli cheered. He couldn’t help himself. Watching the projectiles smash against a broken building helped calm his frayed nerves. Each attack let out three green-blue streaks of pure power that exploded on impact. Nearly an hour had gone by before Don approached cautiously. After a joke about Michelle wanting every piece of metal equipment they found, the Turta left. She could have it, and whatever else she needed.
With Don on his way to find the massive group of villagers and Michelle off completing tasks, Eli sat and meditated for the first time in his life. The thought of having to face his ruined cabin had soured his first casting of offensive magic. As he sat with his legs crossed in the open field, he turned into his surroundings. Songs of birds chirped in a nearby tree, dancing with the sound of water against rocks. Slowly, he let everything fade into a calming blend of white noise. He felt empty, weightless. A moment later, energy poured into him from the world itself. The sensation calmed the noise of his emotions as he allowed them to go quiet. Then a notification appeared.
*Congratulations, you have learned the skill Meditate.
“Hey, you did it. You meditated. And on the first try, too. Keep that up. It helps.” Aida’s voice followed, pulling him from his trance entirely.
“Gods dammit!” Eli shouted, leaping to his feet in frustration, before storming off towards the narrowest part of the river and diving in.
“You guys should build a bridge. I don’t know if all of those people can swim. Oh wait, don’t you have a spell for that?” Aida said mind to mind, as the frigid waters of the southern river cooled his frustrations.
After reaching the other side of the river, Eli stopped to think about what his guide had said. How would they get to the island? There was a shallow ford visible, while the waters were low. While able to be crossed by healthy adults, it would prove difficult for the elderly or children. His thoughts drifted to his shape nature spell. A moment late
r, he focused his attention, reaching out with his senses. To his surprise, he felt a massive interconnected network of roots leading into the river.
With an idea forming, he forced his will into the trees, urging them to move and bend to his command. Slowly, the roots untangled and reshaped themselves, tearing through the soil with ease. A minute later, a five-foot-wide staircase appeared from beneath the water as Eli stood holding the image of his creation in his mind. Five seconds later, he opened his eyes to find the beginnings of a bridge.
Ten hours passed, as Eli shaped five-foot sections of a bridge made from living roots. Between cooldowns, he crafted new leggings, gauntlets, boots, gloves, and a new bow. While he worked, Michelle made her way to the water, asking for the blackened chain vest, his old sword, and any other metal armor they found. Thinking of himself, he made a sturdy axe from bone and wood. Wanting to protect his face, he crafted a helmet from shark-hide and scales.
While the long day of work was rewarding, it was also tiring and monotonous. He had alternated between crafting the bridge, and the items, switching between his craft object and shape nature spells whenever they were off cooldown. By nightfall, the town had a fully formed, ten-foot-wide, three hundred-foot long bridge made from sturdy tree roots, packed earth, and small stones.
Meditating between castings, and the repeated use of his spells, skyrocketed the growth of his new skills. After reaching level ten in meditation, his spirit increased to twelve. The long day of work gave him time to calm his nerves and focus on a single set of tasks. He missed working. Accomplishing a goal felt good, doing a lot to take his mind off of his new life. For the last week, he had been running around killing monsters, beasts, and other players. It had been wearing on him. Starting his own guild and city might be the job he needed to keep him busy while processing everything that happened.
Remembering his real goal for the day, Eli stood and waved to Michelle, who was testing the bridge's integrity. She nodded, waved back, and continued jumping up and down in different locations. After kicking the sturdy railing, made from living wood, she gave Eli the thumbs up, before getting back to work. With his mind at ease, Eli set off into the Wildwood, towards his ruined cabin.
Chapter 40
Branches and exposed roots moved out of Eli’s way as Eli shaped the surrounding woods. At first, he struggled to cast while he ran. His spelled fizzled out in painful bursts of escaped mana. Spiritual Casting allowed him to cast on the move, even while fighting, but it split his attention. For his spells to work, he needed to concentrate on forming his spells and the movement of his body. The act of splitting his focus increased the casting time and mana cost of his spells, but the tradeoff was worth it. Not wanting to waste any more time, Eli traveled well into the night. Six hours later and several miles away from Blight’s End, Eli fell, exhausted from his constant use of mana and stamina. Sitting on the floor of the forest, he looked up. It was after midnight. The twelve glowing moons blanketed the Wildwood in dim light. He needed rest, and to make camp.
To Eli’s surprise, the rest of his night was uneventful, and he slept by a warm fire in a small igloo of branches and earth. After eating a breakfast of warm jerky and edible plants, he set off at first light. More than half a day passed while he jogged, only taking breaks to meditate and eat. His trek through the forest was quick and painless, and the creatures in the woods avoided him as if they somehow knew of his connection to the Fey. A small pack of low-level wolves postured and snarled at some point. Yet he ran through their ranks without a fight. His higher level and new class abilities had made the forest feel far safer than it had been before. He felt more at home in the woods than ever before.
By dusk, he had made it to the outskirts of his clearing. With each step closer, Eli’s heart thumped in his chest as visions of his family’s death, and their burning cabin sprang forth. He knew he needed to get this done. He needed to face what had happened. This family was a shoddy re-creation; it wasn’t real. He knew that in his heart. Yet, his memories and fondness for them felt as real as the shattered memories of his past. As his mind wandered, causing him to lose focus of his surroundings, his foot met resistance. A moment later, a loud snapping sound echoed off of the surrounding trees.
Before he knew what had happened, Eli’s face had smashed against the ground. His nose shattered on impact, blood streaming down his face. While being hoisted into the air, the back of his head smashed against a rock, and Eli found himself five feet above ground. Dangling, upside down, caused the thick red liquid pouring from his nose to drain into his mouth and throat. The scene reminded him of two things. Being strung up over the pit, and when he killed Wayland. As he thought over his situation, four icons appeared next to his status bar. He was bleeding, had a broken nose, was dazed, and trapped. Taking a second to look around, he realized that he was in a snare. Then he understood that whoever had made it would be back.
Forcing himself and his familiar to remain calm, he bent at the waist and aimed his palm at the spot where the rope had looped around the tree branch. Bracing himself for the impending fall, Eli fired three arcane missiles in rapid succession. The attack obliterated the limb and snare. Crashing to the ground, he smacked his head on the same rock he had on the way up. Again, his vision flickered, and a fresh trickle of blood dripped onto his newly crafted tunic. I should have just bent the tree branch, Eli thought, embarrassed.
Collecting himself and tending to his wounds, Eli scanned his surroundings. As harley licked his face to make sure he was okay, Eli realized that he had stumbled into his old hunting grounds. While looking for tracks and other traps, he found a freshly placed empty snare. The trap looked out of place, but somehow familiar. He had no recollection of setting it or resetting it before he died, but it was of his own design. Of that, he was certain. Seeing signs of freshly chopped trees in the distance, he noticed one with fresh notches, dripping sap. It had been started, but never finished. Others had already fallen. Someone had been there recently.
“Eli, leave. You shouldn’t be here.” Aida said from her spot in his mind.
Kneeling, he inspected the trap before disarming it. Running his hand over the rope brought back painful memories, ones that he hoped to forget. He realized that Wayland’s body was laying exactly where he was now kneeling. Their encounter was not even a week prior, yet as he scanned the surroundings, there were no signs of struggle. There was no blood, no deer carcass, and no zombie Wayland. Not even a leaf was out of place. The game had cleaned the mess, but someone had reset this trap, and it wasn’t him.
Someone who knew how it was designed, where to find it, and where to place it. Panic set in as Eli realized that only two people knew the game trails, and how where to place the snares. Kata may still be alive, Eli thought to himself, scanning the area frantically. In the distance, he noticed a small stream of smoke rising above the treeline.
“It’s coming from my cabin,” Eli whispered. “Someone’s there.”
Trees flew by as Eli sprinted, his stamina bar draining with every step. Loud footsteps echoed off of the trees as he sacrificed stealth for speed. She’s still alive, Eli hoped, making his way closer. Nearly to the edge of his clearing, he heard someone walking, their footsteps landing heavily, and their breathing labored. Slowing his pace, Eli crept forward, staying behind the cover of nearby trees. After getting as close as possible, he spotted the silhouette of what seemed to be a man dragging something substantial behind him—a corpse.
Suddenly the man stopped, letting his catch fall to the ground. He scanned the treeline in Eli’s direction; his eyes flitting back and forth as he reached for his axe. Eli pressed forward, heading in the man's direction. He needed to know who this was. He needed to know who reset his traps. Making his way into the small area of clear-cut trees, Eli stopped. He could do nothing but stare at the man before him.
Eli’s body froze as if turned to stone. Fear, confusion, and consternation held him like a vice. Staring back at him was a bearded man of lean bu
ild and above-average height. His golden skin was rough from years of living off of the land. Green leather armor, hunters armor, covered the man's torso. A leather belt-strap held a serrated belt knife close to his thigh. On his back was a familiar bow, the Heartseekers longbow. In his hands was a stout, double bit woodsman’s axe with a maker's mark on its blade and collar. WS. Wayland Smith. Eli tried to move, to speak, but his body would not respond as his mind was too busy racing.
The man spoke, familiarity in his voice, “You have exactly five seconds to explain who you are, what you’re doing here, and how you found out about this location. After that, I kill you.”
His baritone voice poured out like honey. It was sweet and full of life, while still stern, calm, and commanding. It made Eli tremble, not out of fear, but out of shock. It was his voice, not his current voice. No, this was his voice from before he was remade. His real voice. Not yet tainted by harsh tones of the Wolffen, as if he had drunk a mug of acid.
“Five. Four. Three. Two.” The man started, causing Eli to take a step back.
Eli stared at the reflection of himself; his mind scrambling to understand what was happening. No, not a reflection, he thought, this is me. What he saw before him was an entirely separate version of himself. One remade after he died. This was the system’s way of correcting itself. He had made himself into a permanent part of the game, and his avatar had re-spawned without him. How is this possible, Eli asked himself, sending his familiar to search the area with a mental command?
“Wait,” Eli pleaded, staring at the man. “I’m here to help. You are in grave danger. The blight has made its way to Scorn. If you have any supplies, we need to gather them and leave immediately.” He said, knowing that the NPC before him would not know who he was. Or care. He would see a wolffen man at his home.
Ascension Page 49
