John chatted amiably on the journey up the mountain. He told Hunter very little useful information. Every time Hunter tried to guide the conversation back to something relevant to his current situation, the tiefling would redirect until they were talking about John’s old law practice or something equally useless. After a couple of hours of the treatment, Hunter gave up entirely.

Fucking lawyers, he groused.

Instead of focusing on the conversation, he tried to visualize combining Battle Meditation and Cleanse. He could activate either one or the other. But combining them felt impossible. Battle Meditation had a combat focus, while Cleanse was meant to be used in a resting state. The frustrating part was that Hunter knew they should be able to combine. He also had the sense that when they were combined, they would be absorbed by his combat style. His feeling was based on the consumed Warrior Monk Path.

Maybe I’m overthinking this. If they were genuinely suited to my combat style, then they should’ve been added to my skills in the first place. Evidently, I’m missing something. Maybe I need to complete the Archive Acolyte Path? So far, it’s given me similar utility skills. The next Path might have the skill that will help me bridge the divide between my current skills.

“We’re almost there,” John interrupted Hunter’s thoughts.

Hunter didn’t reply to the tiefling. He knew they were close. He was no longer the frightened teenager he was at the beginning of this journey. Before, Hunter would’ve been completely distracted by his thoughts or by his stat sheet. Now, he had enough points in Intelligence that it felt like he could split his mind into two separate threads. A very basic version of himself was watching his surroundings, noting their progress, and providing inane replies to John’s spiel of drivel. His primary thought process was focused on visualizing a combination of Battle Meditation and Cleanse. Still, Hunter realized he should direct his full focus to the situation at hand. His studies could wait.

“Anything you think I should know before going in?”

“Nah,” John said good-naturedly. “You’re the grandson of Hank and Blair. You’ll be fine.”

Hunter wondered how important his grandparents were in the Outpost if John was so confident. There was an irony that Hunter appreciated that his grandparents, one a fundraising expert and the other a venture capitalist, were high in the greed hierarchy. It wasn’t lost on Hunter that his grandparents would want something from him as well.

Oh well, there’s nothing I can do about it now. This new world is all about power. If they’re as strong as John, then they are a direct threat.

Hunter felt a surety to his thoughts that wouldn’t have been there before the Rift. His grandparents had fallen to greed. That meant, at the very least, they had low Willpower. For once in his life, he was better than them at something. He wasn’t going to let them take advantage of him and his hard work.

After another hour of thirty minutes of walking, they finally crest a small incline before being faced with the Outpost. Hunter took a breath as he studied the crude palisade that protected the settlement from the rest of the mountain. It was crafted from the same twisted black trees that covered the mountainside. Behind the wooden defense, he saw black log cabins with smoke curling from crude chimneys.

Despite the shoddy workmanship, Hunter was surprised at the amount of progress the Outposts made in such a relatively short amount of time. In six months, they had been able to create their own village to weather the demon incursion. Of course, they were part of that demon incursion, but the walls looked strong enough to repel imps and a stray ghorum or two.

Hunter and John hadn’t stumbled upon any monsters on their way up the trail. Hunter guessed the same invisible barrier between the imps and the ghorum existed between the demons and the tieflings. He idly wondered if it was a by product of the Rift itself or if the ‘Great One’ had something to do with it.

The Rift boss clearly considered the Rift a training exercise for his tiefling supporters. It was their bad luck that they didn’t start at the bottom of the mountain as Hunter did. If they had, they could’ve cut their teeth on imp enemies instead of the intimidating ghorum. If Hunter had to face one of the brutes on his first day, he would’ve been killed immediately.

There was a trade-off for their disadvantage. The Outpost looked well defended. On either side of the palisade, steep mountainous terrain protected it from a flanking attack. If this worked like a dungeon from video games, then intrepid adventurers would have to enter the Rift from the Sanctuary to fight their way through a horde of minor demonic enemies. When they finally reached the Outpost, they would be faced against an enemy that could use ranged magic and were protected by defensive emplacements. Hunter didn’t envy such a battle. He was lucky to be arriving as a quasi-friend.

Still, the Outpost had to be more than it appeared. From what Hunter remembered, the trail continued even higher. They were on the top third of the mountain, but there was still more of the path to go. Going off of video game logic, the Rift boss was probably based even higher, and this settlement was the first line of defense.

Hunter thought it likely that there would be more enemies, more potent than the ghorum and the tieflings, between the Outpost and the Rift Boss. Hunter could defeat imps and ghorum with ease, but he didn’t know how powerful further defenders would be. His plan, such as it was, was to grow in strength in the Outpost and use that to ascend further up Snodgrass. Anything less would be asking to get skewered by more infernal defenders.

When the duo neared the palisade, they were hailed by two gold-garbed tie flings with spears.

“Hey, John,” a lilac-skinned woman called. “I thought you’d be ghorum shit by now.”

John scowled. “Shut up, Olivia. Just because Charlotte died doesn’t mean it would happen to me.”

The woman just laughed. Hunter could see the pleasure she was taking in her needling. Apparently, there was no honor amongst thieves—or demons—whatever.

Her companion wasn’t as boisterous. Instead, the man with skin the same shade as John studied Hunter.

“What sort of stray did you pick up on the mountain, John?” His eyes narrowed. “You know the major said to stop bringing in pets after the last one.”

John’s customary grin crept across his face and turned into a leer. “I didn’t bring a stray, Walt. This is Hank and Blair's, grandson.”

Walt’s expression grew serious. “Do you have any proof?”

Hunter felt more than saw John’s eyes shift from right to left as the man considered his response. Hunter realized that John didn’t have any proof of this identity outside of Hunter’s name. He hadn’t been able to analyze Hunter in any great detail, so he had to go off the word of the teenager. Hunter almost felt bad for the lawyer.

“I almost killed him for trespassing after I single-handedly slew a ghorum. He was so scared he blabbered on about his name and how he was looking for his grandparents. My Covetous Gaze confirmed the boy’s identity.”

Hunter frowned at the outright lies but didn’t bother to correct John. He’d prefer the guards think he was someone weak. The young warrior needed to get inside the Outpost and wasn’t going to let a few deceptions ruin his chances.

Hunter watched as Walt’s eyes lit up with green fire.

“I can’t analyze him,” he said dryly.

“I guess that means you aren’t a high enough level,” John sneered. “Maybe you should go out hunting ghorum instead of hiding behind the wall. Their drops are absolutely delicious.”

Surprisingly, Walt didn’t fall for the lawyer’s bait and shrugged his shoulders.

“Go on in, then. If he’s not who you say he is John, it’ll be your ass. I’ll make sure the major knows you brought in a stranger.”

Hunter noted the satisfied look on the guard’s face. Walt probably saw some petty advantage he could gain by reporting John’s actions. Hunter didn’t really care. He was already growing tired of the naked avarice from the tieflings. They would do anything they could for a measure of power. It was a sad existence. If Hunter was honest, it was an existence he had almost fallen prey to multiple times. If it weren’t for Body of Will and then his combat style, The Black Wind, he might be pushing such a path. He couldn’t grow complacent. These tieflings would kill him without remorse if they thought his death would bring them some benefits.

“Thanks Walt, your zeal to defend the Outpost is much appreciated.” John’s words were mocking, and the barb clearly stung as both Walt and Olivia grimaced.

Hunter ignored the petty fighting as John led Hunter through the palisade gate.