The walls of the cave flashed by.

Openings were open black holes, and Charley didn’t have a preference. The dim light of the moss was his only guide, and he stuck to where he could see the walls. The last thing he wanted to do was slam into something.

Behind him, he heard wet squishes. He didn’t look back. He ran until his lungs burned and his body was like molten lead. Suddenly he burst through soft cloth with bright lights blinding, and his feet went out from underneath him. He slid forward on a wooden table. Around him bowls and plates sprayed in every direction.

An awful silence descended on the room.

He was in a hall. A massive wooden slab stretched for ten feet, populated with meat and vitals, and in every seat there was a small green goblinoid. Torches burned in scones on the walls, a cooking fire making Charley squint.

More monsters? Charley frowned, taking in the strangest thing he had seen in this world so far. There were...tiny versions of the mature creatures, three of them, sitting on the mud floor. And one of them had a stuffed doll -- children. They sat at tables and used utensils and their young played. These were monsters?

A massive [Blowfish Slime] appeared in the room steamrolling over a goblinoid, the green creature being pushed into its watery interior. Every being in the room stood transfixed for a moment as the goblinoid struggled mightily within the jellied walls of the [Slime], kicking and struggling and letting out bubbles of air.

Then chaos erupted. Goblinoids ran everywhere, most of them screaming. Two more [Slimes] appeared from behind the first. Someone kicked logs from the fire towards the table.

Charley rolled to the floor, taking in the madcap spectacle for a moment. His eyes landed squarely on a cup in front of his face and his dry throat almost had a mutiny. He grabbed at the cup and knocked back the fluid. It burned so good on the way down. Charley waited for a break in the crowd, then started running.

Anywhere was better than here. He booked it into a wide hallway.

A group of three goblins passed him, running towards the [slimes] with weapons extended. Charley caught the gaze of one of them who had a long spear. Charley smiled, and the goblinoid squinted briefly in blatant confusion but didn’t break ranks.

Charley glanced back over his shoulder. Insanity; goblins were throwing embers and logs at the slimes, who were feasting on multiple green bodies within their mass. Green bodies were running in random directions, and shadows were moving everywhere.

He impacted with something soft in front of him and tumbled to the floor. A goblinoid, who starred incredulously at this human interloper. Charley starred back. And then both of them went for their belts. The goblinoid pulled a short serrated piece of obsidian, and Charley pulled his Tooth. Both lunged, grabbing each other’s arms and rolling on the stone below. It was a stalemate. The goblin was small, Charley outweighed him easily by fifty stone, but it was vicious and madcap, and Charley was worn down from days of strain.

His muscles bulged and creaked in protest, and the goblin’s breath was hot and rancid on his face. Neither could find a definite advantage, and both twisted for dominance. Charley kept absolutely quiet, afraid to raise any help for his opponent. Charley’s eyes went wide -- the goblinoid was just as silent! The [slimes] were sound reactive, and this creature knew it. Useful information. Even locked in a life and death knife fight, his head didn’t stop processing details. He smiled.

Then Charley felt a rush of weakness hit his brain, forcing his eyes to blink. His knife hand, squeezed by the goblin, let go, and the tooth fell weakly onto the goblinoids chest.

Fuck; whatever had been in that cup had been potent -- he was tipsy. The goblin flashed an unwholesome grin and switched grip to push the dull knife towards its target with two hands. Charley huffed, switching his grip and stopping the knife two inches from his breastplate.

Both held themselves and each other in complete silence, the moment as madcap as it was surreal. And then the goblinoid started to whimper and shake. Charley held steady as the goblin coughed up thick black blood on him, only closing his eyes. Finally the strength left his opponents arms, and he rolled to one side, free.

Level 10 [Hobgoblin] Killed!

[Natural inscriptionist] reached level 9!

For a moment Charley just sucked air, listening to the pop of greasy fire and distant screams. Then he rolled over and pulled his tooth, Grendel, from the green chest where it had logged itself. It took two tries.

He didn’t look back as he hobbled into the dark.

--

He could only run for about fifteen minutes before he didn’t have any more wind in him. Then he slowed to a cautious walk. His reserves had taken another hit when he had leveled--even though his body felt more knitted together as usual after the level up, this time he noticed that his body had ravaged his already pathetic reserves of fat and muscle to do it.

There was some unique and messed up conservation of energy that was playing into the effect, he was sure of it -- it had to come from somewhere. And equally compelling was that this meant his body was actually, physically changing when he leveled. Slowly, to be sure. And with the skills more suddenly. Rules were good, though. Rules could be learned. Charley liked rules. But then there was the other shoe that he was waiting to drop. There was always a cost.

Charley followed the curve of the floor upward. Anytime he came to a turn, he’d drop a pebble. He went in the opposite direction of the roll. “Thank you, Troop number sixty two.” He wasn’t actually a boy scout -- but they had given a presentation once at his high school after a couple of idiots got stuck in a cave. At the time, he remembered thinking to himself, ‘there is no god damn way I’m ever going to get into a situation like that.’ Which was probably the only reason he remembered the pebble trick.

Yea. “Also, sorry for making fun of the uniforms.” He did this thing, where instead of thinking about the goblin-thing he had murdered-horribly-with-splashback he hid in pragmatism, and then deflected with humor. Probably he was going to need to see whatever shrink or whatever equivalent they had in this dump. “Just focus on the path. And not the darkness, or the [slimes] drowning people in mid air.”

--

Two hours and three close calls later Charley starred in dumb stupor at a crack in the night sky.

An exit to the dungeon lay ahead of him, showing a slice of sky absolutely swimming with stars.

Yes, he had almost died three times. But this. This was too easy. Except there weren’t any other options than forward. No food, no water, injuries piling up. He didn’t know how long he had been in that cave, but it felt like days. He sure as hell wasn’t going back.

He had at least made one surprise. He patted the largest pouch on his belt gently. Slowly, cautiously, Charley edged forward.

His eyes adjusted to starlight, and it was beautiful. An open field lay before him, with white flowers that reflected the light and sparkled, regal trees with leaves that were tipped in deep purple. The smells of blood and piss were whisked away like they were never there, replaced with pine and aspen-clean air.

Charley teared up. One step at a time, one leg trailing behind him, he walked into the field and away from the cave. He felt the night air kiss his skin, and raise goosebumps. A tentative smile blossomed on his lips.

And then Charley’s smile died on his face.

At the edge of the field where the trees rose high and started to clump together there was a man waiting, shadowed in the canopy. Charley gave himself credit, he didn’t slow his careful walk, merely oriented towards the man in the trees. He stopped a good distance from the treeline. The man was the same who had dropped him in the hole, of that he was sure. Grey leather armor framed a powerful figure, with a mud brown short cloak that looked thick and warm, and fell to the man’s waist.

When Charley stopped moving, the figure casually lifted himself from the tree he leaned against. He didn’t seem in a hurry. “Did you think we’d just leave it to chance? No insurance policy?”

Behind the man there was evidence of a small camp, cold with a long extinguished cooking fire. Charley sighed fitfully, “I was really hoping, Yes.”

The thief was uneasy despite his postering. He could tell something wasn’t right about this situation. The boy in front of him was different. The entire demeanor of the person before him had shifted from the boy he had dropped into a pit days ago. This was a person who through hurt and abuse had crawled his way out of a dungeon alone.

To confirm, he used his skill [Clear Eyes]. The thief’s sure grin fell off his face. A level 9 [Natural Inscriptionist], almost twice what he had tossed into the pit as fresh meat. “I’ll give you credit, kid. You made it out of a newbie dungeon on your own. But what makes you think you can make it past me?”

“Magic, mother fucker.” Charley bent down and started drawing the runes for light on the cleared dirt he had purposefully stopped in. He was easily fifty feet away from the [Thief], and knew he didn’t have enough time for a proper inscription, so he didn’t make one. He skipped Origin and just drew a straight light rune.

The [Thief] paused for a moment, hesitating at the pronouncement. When nothing immediately happened, he cussed loudly and started running forward, trusting his instincts to stop a mage from doing whatever it was.

It was a good instinct. But It was also what Charley wanted. Charley yelled in triumph as he finished the rune and it activated, throwing a blanket of true light over a pathetically small bubble. He felt the energy leave him in a dizzy wave.

Charley knew he’d only have moments. But it was all he needed. He lurched backwards, drawing his last surprise from his pouch with [Nimble hands]. He chucked it on the ground in the flash. “Sic ‘em,” It was half a prayer. Several bent nails flashed in the light, an improvised caltop with a seek rune.

The light was already fading. He drew his Chimera Tooth.

Two heartbeats later he heard a curse and saw the outline of a body. He threw Grendel as hard as he could towards the sound, half blind from his own flashbang. Somewhere in the action, his [Flow like Water] triggered, although he didn’t see or feel anything that he dodged.

Charley sloughed forward, spent.

He had nothing left. His adrenaline ran dry and his entire body felt weak. No more tricks left in his belt. Malnutrition and the constant sleep-deprivation robbed him from any ability to run. He just waited to see what would happen next, breathing deeply and raggedly.

The gentle light of a grey morning returned to the clearing. The [Thief] was on his back gasping wetly, hands probing the tooth stuck into his neck.

Charley stared at what he’d wrot. The soft cries had a gurgle with them, and he knew with grim certainty this person wouldn’t be getting up from the ground without medical attention.

Charley had done this to him. And this was one of the people who had tried to have him killed. Tears came to his eyes. The creatures from the dungeon were one thing. This was something else. This was a human life. And it was bleeding out in front of him.

The [Thief] was blonde and he had blue eyes like ice chips. Charley hadn’t noticed until the heat of the moment had passed -- his dark colored clothing had concealed most of his details. He felt impossibly cold, staring at the man on the ground.

The eyes of the man were locked onto Charley’s. They didn’t offer hate, or ask for mercy. They just looked confused. A professional who made a mistake and didn’t close distance on a mage fast enough. Bubbles formed over the man’s lips, saliva and air interacting with the wet blood.

He could help him. He saw lights in the distance--it didn’t seem like it was far from town. If he applied a tourniquet, searched the man’s bag for any potions. There was a chance.

Charley kept eye contact, and watched as the life slowly drained from the [Thief]. It took longer than he expected. Minutes.

He felt like he would remember those eyes for the rest of his life.

When it was finally over, he felt a familiar surge from inside himself.

level 16 [Thief] killed!

[Natural inscriptionist] reached level 10!

Skill: [Passive: See the Weave] gained!

See the natural flow of mana within the world in the sky, earth, and its denizens. See the inlaid patterns of mana within objects like grains within wood, and fracture patterns within metal.

It felt amazing and hot on the outside, and ice cold within. Like a one night stand just after the moment passed. Hollow and satiated. But still the messages came.

Alert: Extreme adaptation detected! Catch: Application of core skill delayed until next sleep cycle.

“Whatever.” Charley shrugged to himself.

He dropped to his haunches, and began work that he knew was essential to his survival of the next moments. He took a black backpack gingerly off the [Thief’s] shoulders, dropping his own ratty sack with its emptied rations in a pile. And then he placed both hands on the tooth, and pulled forcefully until it released with a sickening pop.

The blood of the thief sprayed from the wound over his forearms, and Charley felt his stomach gurgle. He paused for a moment, staring at the muck. It was..moving oddly. Almost like it was bubbling. And then it burned. Charley frantically scrapped at his arms, to no avail. Blood boiled off his skin, evaporating into the air leaving angry red welts behind.

Another message, this one different from the others he felt-slash-saw scrolled through his consciousness. The other ones were like chimes ringing in his ears. This one broke over him like a wave.

Through the webwork behind the worlds you have stepped onto strange shores. By absorbing the blood of this land, forcibly taken from a classed sentient, the energies of two worlds flow through you.

Aspect gained: Worldwalker!

Ominous. The wrong color, he noted. And annoyingly unhelpful, as well as late. He ignored it completely.

The caltrop was ruined, but he still didn’t leave it as evidence. He wasn’t so far out of it that basic forensics didn’t register for him, although he admitted to himself that it was possible he wasn’t thinking clearly in this moment. The money he found in the Thief’s pockets he left.

He didn’t want it.

--

Name: Charley Peace

Class: [Natural inscriptionist].

level: 10

Skillset:

[Runic Enchantment]

Able to inscribe runes onto objects. Permanent.

[Corvus Enca] Level: 5. Limited to lesser effects. Limited to three runes.

[Passive: Nimble hands]

[Meditative Focus]

[Passive: Deep Intuition]

[Passive: Flow like water]

[Passive: See the Weave]

Aspects:

Worldwalker

Runes known:

Spoiler: Spoiler

Origin.

Flow.

Sundering.

Growth.

Light.

Seek.

Blood.

Objects in Toolbelt:

Spoiler: Spoiler

Chisel [Fiona. Runes: Origin, Flow. Increases the likelihood of discovering new runes].

Chalk [Cheshire. Runes: Origin, Flow, Growth. Can be used to chalk temporary runes. Chalk point is everflowing.]

Throwing Tooth [Grendel. Runes: Origin, Seek, Blood. Moves independently towards flesh, and drinks blood. Temporary Enchantment.]