***Tirnanog, The Old Camp***

***Magnus***

I slowly recounted the story of my arrival. Gurney's expression turned contemplative when I mentioned the mystery meat and the little saurian's tail, but he listened carefully and didn't interrupt me a single time. Further into the story, I could tell my vendetta with the eels was of much less interest to him than the beginning of the tale. Finally, I finished with my arrival at the Old Camp.

“That's a story,” Gurney said once I was done. “And you are one hell of a lucky boy. An almost a blank slate with no wasted evolutions to boot! If we don't mess up your setup, you should have a straight shot at one of the clans. Just don't forget your good, old Gurney once you rise through the ranks of power.” He winked at me.

“Let's start with the easy things first.” He interlaced his fingers on top of his belly and leaned back, making the chair creak.

“Thankfully, the mystery meat is an easy-to-solve riddle,” he started. “That was nightstalker, a predator which hunts during the night. It's responsible for what happened to your eyes. You should be able to sense energy signatures or magnetic fields. I am not really versed in the details, since I only got recounts from other exiles with the same mutation. If you ever figure out the exact nature of your ability, please share it with me.”

I nodded.

“The other one easy to solve is the starfish, or eels, as you called them. It's a fairly common mutation among the exiles and should grant you a slow healing factor.” He gestured his chin towards the wound on my forearm. The scabs had fallen off during the day and revealed new, white skin. It was still a little tender, though.

“A minor evolution. Which isn't to say it's a bad evolution. Many exiles get it intentionally once they learn of it. The starfish are like... hmm. You said I should stop with the analogies. But let's say that you can recover from almost anything, given enough time. It's by no means the fastest regeneration ability. But cut off something and it will grow back as long as you don't die from blood loss. Like an axolotl.”

He gestured at my wound. “You were lucky you ate the starfish afterwards. Otherwise, the wound might have festered and you would have died.”

I swallowed involuntarily. “I thought the nanotech did that.”

Gurney laughed. “The bastards from Earth giving us more help than necessary? Cut that out of your head, Tulkas.”

He returned to seriousness. “Which gets us to the interesting part. Those little saurians you described were zippers, but I haven't heard of anyone ever eating one for a primary mutation. They are fast like hell and avoid large groups of enemies. And when one of them dies, they pretty much immediately cannibalize the corpse like little piranhas. So we will need to figure out what you got from eating one. One obvious thing is your muscles. Can you electrocute too?”

I contemplated whether I should reveal everything, but it didn't appear like Gurney would gain anything from messing up my evolutions. He was literally paid to find the best candidates for the clans. His excessive documentations also made it unlikely that he had lied about that.

In the end, I opted to be mostly truthful but to downplay my ability to call down Thor's thunder.

I explained how my new body increased my strength and speed and demonstrated it by flashing my arm around, explosively displacing the air. Then I created some lightning arcs between my thumb and index finger, which got Gurney a lot more interested.

Once I finished, he stared at the table that he had drawn onto my file, mumbling to himself, “This is actually pretty good. If we do things right, I could finally get rid of her...”

“Get rid of who?” I asked and narrowed my eyes.

“Nothing!” Gurney coughed and picked up his quill.

He stretched out his hand. “Shake. I want to see how strong you are. Just don't shock me, or you might end up with broken fingers.”

Understanding his intention, I took his hand and squeezed. When he didn't seem bothered, I squeezed some more and then put real effort into it. Gurney didn't even blink until I supercharged my muscles.

That got him to squeeze back and almost crush my hand in the process.

He nodded, satisfied, and let go of me.

Which left me rubbing a hand that felt like it had been almost crushed. If my ability turned my muscles into a loaded spring, then Gurney was a bench vice! Slow and steady made the race in this case.

“First, we have Lesser Regeneration from a starfish and Second Sight from a nightstalker. Those are both minor mutations, each worth one point. Then we have your zipper evolution, which the nanotech apparently took as your first primary mutation. You certainly remember me mentioning that the first one often gives more. We call that primary. It sounds like you got a major upgrade from the zipper. I am honestly unsure of how to weigh it in my point system, but I don't want to lose you to a stupid mistake. Getting you into the arena will certainly gain me a lot of bonus points with the clans! So, we should weigh your zipper upgrade with four points. Maybe even five. I am not sure whether the improved speed and strength can be counted as the same thing.”

He started to make some entries into his table.

1) Offensive: Medium Strength, Short burst of Greater Strength (Muscle-based, zipper)

2) Offensive: Major Speed (Muscle-based, zipper)

3) Offensive: Electric Charge (Muscle-based, zipper)

4) Defensive: Muscle Steel (Muscle-based, zipper)

He thought for a moment, then added.

5) Survival: Carrion Eater (Digestive, zipper)

“Carrion Eater!?” I exclaimed.

Gurney nodded, not looking up from his paper. “Starfish turn bad really quickly once they are dead. You ate rations a day old and didn't mention anything about puking out your guts. You certainly got that upgrade too. Quite useful, I might say.”

6) Self-Healing: Lesser Regeneration (starfish)

7) Sensory Ability: Second Sight (vision-based, nightstalker)

He studied his table and nodded to himself. “Now we get to the good part where my expertise comes in. We have to figure out which abilities you lack to be exceptional!”

“First, you have to know that your zipper evolutions will either make or break you.” Gurney looked at me with a serious expression. “They are half of your skill-set. Without improving them, you will always be mediocre. But if you manage to catch more zippers, you might become the most powerful trainee I ever had.”

I sighed. “Those things zapping me won't be fun at all. But at least I know that a big explosion can get them. I will need every bit of power that I can gather.”

Gurney nodded. “Then we proceed under the assumption that you will get more zippers to improve your core abilities.”

I nodded. “How about something more defensive to round out my build? So far, my skills are very offensive. Is there some mutation like Stone Skin?”

Gurney suddenly screamed at me as if he was a drill instructor with me as his recruit. “Don't waste my time, stupid idiot! If you want to get yourself killed, you can do it alone!”

“C- calm down.” I raised both hands, palms out. “It was just a question.”

Gurney huffed. “I already stopped counting how many idiots got a strength-type mutation and thought to make themselves into tanks by adding shields, carapaces, or sturdier skin. Once you improve your muscles, there comes a point at which the rest of your body just can't keep up anymore. Your muscles rip themselves free of the tendons or they crush your bones once you over-exert yourself.

“I have seen people getting the most powerful of carapace mutations, bone plates, and the like. The moment they encounter the first predator that gives them a good whack, they are dead once their bones are crushed beneath whatever shield they have. Or maybe their organs are turned to mush by the force of the impact.”

He leaned closer. “Did you already forget me crushing your hand? That wasn't you being that much weaker than me. That was your bones giving up the ghost. You are very lucky that this muscle mutation of yours apparently distributes the forces and stress over a larger area, or you would have already hit an evolutionary dead end like so many other idiots. But who knows? With how many muscles you have now, maybe it turns out you are more like a squid and no longer need bones?”

I winced and rubbed my hand. “Okay. You have convinced me. What can I do to remedy this weakness?”

Gurney frowned and considered a stack of papers next to him. Then he rifled through it and placed a sheet of paper in front of me. “Saherna mutation. A large plant-eater that grazes leaves from the canopies. Improves your skeleton and tendons with ceramics, metal composites and carbon fibres.”

I studied the comprehensive paper which told me about the animal. Where to find it and how to hunt it. Which evolutions it was likely to give when used as a primary upgrade and as a secondary one.

Gurney didn't leave anything out in his documents.

The creatures were easy to harvest. Most didn't even notice when someone cut a strip of meat out of their legs. It was like an insect-sting to them. The problem were the parasites infesting the Saherna's skin. They had something to say about someone else snacking on their host.

“Sounds good.” I pulled a face. “Though, I would wish to unlearn that bit about the parasites.”

My guide to this world shrugged, not bothered by my squeamishness. “It's the only viable option I can think of. My experience is it's best to assist your primary evolution with lesser ones. That reduces the possibility of overlaps. This would add one point and bring you up to eight.”

He wrote down another entry.

8) Defensive: Enhanced Skeleton (internal, saherna)

“Now that we have corrected that weakness with your strength, what can you think of that would help with your speed? You have shown me that you can move one arm very quickly, but what holds you back from going all out with that?”

I considered the question, then hesitatingly recounted how I had learned moving quickly by watching the zippers with my Second Sight – which I found to be an apt name for them. The story ended with how I had to give up on speedrunning once I hit the limits of my coordination and reaction speed.

Gurney suddenly moved, throwing something that bounced off my forehead. It landed on the chair between my legs.

I looked down and found it to be a silver ring he had previously worn on his ring finger.

“Sorry.” Gurney held out his hand. “Just had to ensure that this zipper evolution didn't do more to you before I suggest something. From the way you responded, your reaction speed is still pretty much human.”

I rubbed my forehead while I gave the ring back, glad that Gurney didn't test me with a billiard ball.

He looked once more through his files and offered me a second sheet of paper.

“That's a major mutation, but it fits in this situation. Hornhops are something like a mixture between a grasshopper and a unicorn. Four-legged, they are omnivores who sometimes hunt by spearing prey with their single horns. If you take them as a primary evolution, things get pretty fucked up, but as a secondary, they give improved reflexes and enhanced processing speed. In short, it boosts your brain and nervous system. Even if eating more zippers gets you to the level of speeding around like them without it, I don't think a hornhop mutation would be wasted on you.”

I bristled. “Just who comes up with these names?”

He wrote down two more entries, bringing me up to ten points. Which meant further improvements would be risky without getting them from a partner.

9) Defensive: Improved Reflexes (Nervous System, hornhop)

10) Defensive: Improved Processing (Nervous System, hornhop)

Gurney shrugged and grinned. “Normal people who just don't give a rat's ass about whether a name is good or bad. It describes what the creatures do and that sometimes saves lives.”

“So I guess that they jump pretty well?” I asked. “And have a horn to pierce you with.”

He nodded. “Fucking things lie in wait for most of the day. If something startles them, they jump up to fifty metres in one go. Takes an organized hunting party to get them because they recover for their next jump within four to five seconds. Several people have to be ready for a killing shot when the creature lands.”

“Just how am I supposed to hunt these things?” I tugged at my torn clothes. “I have nothing but the stuff on my body. The few things I had, I lost when those fluffballs chased me. I cannot pay a hunting party.”

Gurney waved the problem off as insignificant. “Have you forgotten me mentioning to sponsor you? That's what the clans are paying me for. As long as you join the arena and get me some favour with the clans, I will set you up to have a chance in this world.”

I looked at the grove of trees behind him. “I still don't like the word 'arena'.”

“Don't worry.” Gurney chuckled jovially. “I try my best not to get people killed unnecessarily.”

I looked down at my ragged clothes, thought of my empty belly, and looked up at the setting sun. Damn, I had wasted so much time here.

On the other hand, it wasn't like I hadn't learned a lot of very important stuff.

“Okay. How is this going to play out?” I asked and returned my attention to my 'sponsor'. I just hoped the clans weren't paying him too well for this. It was unbelievable that I had come here to join a twisted dating service in order to survive.

“First, you will get a room in my quarters at the bunker for tonight,” Gurney explained. “I am going to give you some of my introductory compendiums to read. There is no way I am going to waste time explaining clan politics or the realities of the Old Camp to you.

“While you study, I am going to organize a hunting party to get you set up with what you need. The first one is on the house. The rest, you will have to take care of on your own. Then I will find you a trustworthy hunter who introduces you to this world. How to survive in the forest, how to make a living. Get you some equipment.

“As long as you don't bail on me, you can keep the room in the bunker and have access to my files.” He patted the stack of papers that documented all the mutations he knew. Then he leaned forward. “If you want out, say it straight to my face and we are fine. Run or steal my stuff, and I will have the entire Old Camp, including the clans, hunting you.”

I nodded. “Then no arena?”

Gurney waved the thought away. “There is no way I am going to throw you in there before you are ready. First, we have to train you up and get you used to your mutations. If everything works out tomorrow, we might even think about adding more, given the potential benefits outweigh the risk. And then you can try your luck in the arena.”

He started packing his papers and loaded me up with a few stacks of my own. Then he led me to the bunker, past a few guards who eyed us suspiciously.

Gurney's part of the bunker was large enough for ten people, but I was the only person he decided to sponsor right now. I was shown to my room and then Gurney introduced me to a study where I could read up on the clans, local geography, and other common knowledge about this world.

Best of all, his quarters had a shower and a toilet, which I would never again take for granted.

I almost cried when Gurney presented me with a set of baggy linen shirts and trousers, including cloth strips and a belt to bind everything in place. Compared to Earth, it was the cheapest of outfits, but I finally felt like a human again.

Two days in the wilderness had turned me into a hermit-like existence.

That evening, all I got to eat were meat and vegetable stew that had been boiled beyond recognition. It tasted horrible, but it was better than nothing.

The most precious of my new possessions were the piece of stinky soap and the wooden toothbrush with the jar of mashed herb paste that doubled for toothpaste.

I spent the rest of the evening in the study where I tried to familiarize myself as best as I could with the clans and the local geography.

The next day was also dedicated to studying until Gurney presented me with two pieces of meat in the evening.

“I think you may have been right about this Carrion Eater trait,” I commented while I chewed the stringy meat.

“How so?” Gurney asked while slurping down a bowl of broth.

“Because raw meat tastes so much better than it should,” I replied. “With the starfish, I always told myself I was just eating sushi.”

He nodded. “Just eat up and lie down. Taking too many different mutations at once can cause a metamorphic hibernation. Just like the one you experienced back at the lake. So, avoid it if you don't have protection. But normally, only acquiring your primary mutation should render you unconscious.”

I thanked him for the advice and dined on a steak of hornhop and saherna each before I was knocked out.

Once I awoke, it was the second day after my arrival in the Old Camp. Thankfully, whatever the meat had done to me didn't add to the freakishness of my appearance.

Which meant I was happily eating overboiled stew for breakfast when Gurney entered the dining room with a second exile in tow.

He gestured at the newcomer while I got to my feet. “Tulkas, this is Mark Whetherton. Another one of my trainees, but he has been here for over a year. Unlike you, he walked away when I offered him the first chance. Last year, it was already too late to match him with someone when he came crawling back.”

Mark scratched the back of his head while we shook hands. “Good to meet you. I will give my best to teach you the ropes.”

“Teach me?” I asked.

Gurney nodded. “Mark is actually a pretty good hunter who is doing well for himself after he had a rough start. He can show you how to make a living in the Old Camp and I have tasked him with showing you around the forest. Together, you two might even find a way to get a few of those zippers.”

Suddenly, Gurney tried to slap me!

Just that it felt like he was moving as if hindered by water. I easily bent backwards just enough to avoid the blow but stumbled once the flow of time returned to normal.

“Wow!” I caught myself before I fell. “That was some crazy shit!” I exclaimed. “It felt like bullet time!”

“Just trying to find out how well the mutation has taken,” Gurney commented and tried again.

This time, bullet time didn't activate and he slapped me instead. With his strength, it was enough to rattle my brain and send me spinning to the ground. For a moment, I wondered whether I had lost a few teeth.

“Ouch.”

Gurney shook his head. “Looks like it isn't completely instinctive. You will have to train to get conscious control of the ability.” He addressed Mark, “One of your tasks will be to hit him now and then until he gets this ability under control. We have to trigger it as often as possible until he gets used to the feeling. It's best done before he develops any bad habits.”

Mark only saluted in reply.

I got back to my feet. “Sounds like it will hurt.”

Mark tried to kick my leg, but I dodged it.

“Ha!”

Gurney got my other cheek, sending me back to the ground.

“Argh! I am not Jesus!” I complained.

“Okay, enough fun for now.” Gurney walked towards his office. “Get to work, you two. Just tell the merchants it's on my tab, but you don't get anything, Mark. I already sponsored your equipment last year.”

Mark clicked his tongue and considered me while I got back to my feet.

“So you are strength and speed?” He asked. “Do you have already an idea of the fighting style you will be going with? We have to know that before we get you some gear.”

I shook my head once I was standing again. “I know how to use a gun and I have a little bit of hand to hand training.”

Mark snorted. “Yeah, no way that you will be getting a gun here. We have them, but ammunition is prohibitively expensive. You will lose more resources than you can make back by shooting some poor critter. And the bigger beasts will just get pissed off from being needled with bullets. As for hand to hand, no.” He shook his head. “Just, no.”

“Okay, then what?” I spread my hands. “I can throw stuff pretty hard if it helps. My only problem was that my wooden spears always broke.”

Mark considered the suggestion and gestured for me to follow him. “We will spend an hour at the training park behind the bunker for you to show off before we decide on your gear.”

Just as prophesied, it was done.

Mark was easy to talk to. He told me he had been a banker in his past life. His grave mistake was to take part in the bank's more risky investments. Once it blew up in the bank's face, Mark was the obvious person to blame.

“Just shows how cruel fate can be,” Mark finished his story while he watched me throwing another practice spear into a training dummy. “It's the ultimate punishment to banish a banker to a world without money.”

He stopped me from picking up another spear. “I think that's enough for now. We will spend the rest of the day at the market and search for some gear that works for you. And tomorrow, we will go hunting in the woods.”

We went to the marketplace where Mark and I perused the wares of one merchant after the other.

First, Mark got me some Spartan-style leather armour to wear over my tunic. It barely protected my vital parts, but it also didn't hinder my movements or sacrifice much speed.

I wasn't truly sold on using such mediocre armour after having seen some people on the street who had much better protections. But Mark reminded me we wanted to go hunting, not fight creatures that could crush us like ants. Nobody had said we intended to bring down an alpha predator four times our size. That would require much better preparation and equipment.

He finally convinced me when he further explained that the people who I had seen likely intended to get close and physical with the beasts, which we most definitely wanted to avoid.

My list of belongings was further improved when I got a rucksack and camping gear, including all the little things and oddities required for outdoor survival. My first impulse was to double down on the small wood-chopping axes, but Mark reminded me there was still a blacksmith on our shopping list.

Eventually, we arrived at the blacksmith where a small gladius-style sword was added to my equipment. It was forged much thicker and sturdier than any sword I had seen so far. A normal human wouldn't have been able to wield it, but the blacksmith pointed out that strength-types like myself would otherwise just break the weapon.

Having seen my throwing skill, Mark got me a bag full of steel balls. They were hefty, with about three to four centimetres in diameter. From the weight alone I assumed they would make for good projectiles. It looked like someone had just taken them out of a ball bearing.

My set of distance weapons was rounded out by a large quiver with ten short metal spears. Each was about a metre in length and seemed to be made for the job. The blacksmith explained he made them in abundance as crossbow bolts for the ballistas that protected the walls against larger monsters.

That was lucky for me because it made the things sturdy, relatively cheap, and reusable.

My set of gear was finished when Mark requested a man-sized spear made out of spring steel.

“Why not a wooden shaft?” the blacksmith asked. “We have some pretty good hardwoods. Almost as sturdy as composite materials from Earth.”

“It's because of his ability.” Mark gestured for me to demonstrate. “Show him.”

Just like I had done for Gurney, I created a lightning arc between my thumb and index finger.

The blacksmith contemplated the demonstration with a frown. “It will take some time, but I can make something that gets the job done.” Then he had me bend various leftover steel bars with different thicknesses.

I found my limit with a hefty, oversized crowbar. Not even my supercharged muscles could deform it. The blacksmith did a dirty job of sharpening it for me as a temporary weapon and told us to come back in a week.

With that, the day ended with me laden like a mule. Mark didn't carry a single thing and instead pointed out I would have to get used to traversing the wilds with my survival gear.

The next day, we would go out and hunt for real.