As darkness began to fall Azrael started walking west, along the lake side. His hope was that he would be able to find a place at the base of the cliff to spend the night at.

Already in the falling twilight he could hear night prowlers beginning to wake, for their moonlight hunts. Grunts, hoots and howls filtered through the forest and he held his staff tighter.

Azrael headed west, the sound of the waterfall soon overpowering all else. He wasn’t sure what types of creatures were out , flitting through the night filled forest, but he was sure he would feel safer with a at his back.

Something seemed to flicker in the shadow to his left, causing him to whirl around. He stood there, tense moments passing, his staff at the ready, but nothing moved.

Everything was silent, except for the thunder of the waterfall and the pounding of his own heart. He continued onwards, staff raised and at the ready against his invisible enemies, phantoms between the trees, real or imagined. A deadly game of hide and seek.

Impossibly tense and paranoid, Azrael turned to face a flickering shadow and suddenly backed into something. Barely suppressing a scream, he whirled around to face his unknown opponent. He spun, his staff already coming in for the strike, only to find the solid stone of the cliff face. He stood there blankly, looking for something, but not sure what. He hadn’t planned that far. Then, there, nearly two meters above him he saw it, a ledge.

In his periphery he thought he saw a shadow move and whirled back around, but there was only trees, darkness and silence.

Was he worrying too much he wondered? Was he imagining the danger? A slight flicker between two bushes drew his eyes and he thought he saw something glint in the light of the rising moon. Fuelled by adrenaline he hurriedly turned back to the cliff and began to climb.

Sharp rock ledges cut into his fingers and bare feet and the staff in his hand didn’t make the climbing easier, but he pressed on.

Just as he was about to reach the ledge, a foothold gave way causing him to slip. In a sudden desperate scrabble to save himself, he dropped his staff. It fell to the ground and he quickly pulled himself up onto the ledge.

For a moment he sat there, his whole body shaking from the sudden shock and subsequent rush of adrenaline. He looked down to check on his weapon, just as a creature detached itself from the shadows.

The wolf emerged from the dark trees, its silken black fur moving as if caught in an invisible wind. Azrael watched in abject horror as it stalked towards him, its fur seeming to give it the appearance of a wraith wrapped in shadows. For a moment it stood still, sniffing the air, before turning its gaze upwards, directly at him.

Azrael moved backwards, wanting to press himself up against the cliff face, to create as much distance between himself and the wolf. He was caught off guard, when instead of solid rock, his back met empty air. Falling backwards, onto his rear, Azrael found himself at the mouth of a small cave. The previously four hands breadths of space of the ledge, suddenly becoming the entrance to a previously unnoticed cave.

The sound of claws scrabbling against stone brought him back to his situation and after a moment of searching his hands found a small boulder. Moving it to the edge he waited for the wolf to try scaling the cliff again.

The wolf soon obliged, rushing up towards him, its snapping jaws far too close for comfort, before falling down again as its paws failed to find suitable purchase. As it was on its way down, he pushed the boulder after it.

The wolf nimbly evaded, barely managing to avoid a lethal blow to the skull. It drew back and began warily circling the base of the cliff, while eyeing him.

Angry and scared, Azrael found another smaller stone, which he threw at the wolf. It sidestepped the projectile with only minimum effort. Seeing him without a weapon, the wolf launched itself up again, only for him to find and throw another stone.

This went on throughout the night, an endless game of hunter and hunted. It toyed with him, attacking, then drawing away again. Other times it vanished into the shadows, making him guess whether it was still watching, or had left. Anxiety and doubt ate away at him, until it returned, just as he believed that it had finally left for good.

It was only in the early hours of dawn when something changed. The wolf appeared from the trees, having been gone for almost an hour. An excruciatingly long hour of fear, anxiety and torment.

In the meantime, Azrael had found a large stone at the back of the cave and placed it on the edge of the ledge by his feet. The wolf seeing him without a weapon again tried to scramble up. This time he pushed the rock off with his foot, just as the wolf reached the apex of its assault.

They both tumbled down, the stone following the wolf. It smashed into the left side of its skull, crushing its eye. It howled in pain, as blood began to pour out of its blinded eye.

Azrael could hear it in its howl, the rage and pain of a proud hunter that had never known defeat. Then the howl ended, along with a deadly promise of vengeance. It turned its one good eye onto him balefully, before vanishing into the forest.

Azrael watched it leave, but it was only when the first morning birds sang that Azrael realised it had actually left, at least for now. He slumped to the stone floor, as the adrenaline left him. His relieved laughter rang through the cave. He had survived his first night.

It was mid-morning when Azrael woke. His whole body was stiff from having to sleep on the hard stone of the cave floor. He pushed himself into an upright position and groaned as flashes of yesterday flashed through his memory. The forest, the waterfall, the shadow wolf.

“Gods” he said out loud, as he ran a hand through his mess of hair “they really did mean realistic”.

In terms of terror the wolf was nothing. He’d faced monster hordes and aliens from deep space, but it was still a new situation for him. Other games had safety zones or tutorials for starter players, allowing them to grow and learn, before throwing them into the game. That had meant that he’d been prepared with magic and arcane spells, or space cruisers and ray guns. Sure, he’d been in impossible situations where he’d been vastly outnumbered and outmatched, but he’d been prepared. Here? He had nothing.

Azrael got up and walked to the edge of the cave, where he looked down. Stones of many sizes littered the ground where he had thrown them, some having smashed after impact, leaving dangerous shards across the battlefield. In one spot, dried drops of blood from the beast’s wound splattered the ground. It truly looked like a mini warzone. Surprisingly, despite all of that, his staff lay undamaged at the cliff base.

Azrael was about to climb down and retrieve his staff when he realised that he hadn’t actually had a good look at the cave that had saved his life. It was relatively small, barely tall enough to stand in and his hands could almost reach both sides. Its length was nothing special either, barely four or so meters long. It was not somewhere he would have chosen, but it had reliably kept him safe for one night. And it was better than all other non-existent options. His curiosity sated, he scaled down the cliff.

Once on the ground, he picked up his staff. After his battle with the wolf a simple bit of wood didn’t seem like a very reliable weapon. His weapon was overdue for an upgrade. He looked down at his grass skirt which was falling apart. It seemed his weapon wasn’t the only thing overdue for an overhaul.

Finding a larger stone shard Azrael started upgrading his staff to a spear.

He began by carving a notch at the top of his staff to nestle the stone shard into. Searching the edge of the forest he found some form of vine, which he used to tightly bind the stone spearhead into the notch. When the vines dried, they would contract pulling taut and hopefully holding the spearhead in place.

As he worked, he felt something, some unknown sort of pressure, growing as he worked. However, when he looked up he could see nothing out of the ordinary. Dismissing it he finished by tying off the bindings.

He held the spear up to examine his work and felt something ‘click’ again, the unknown pressure disappearing, like a gear falling into place. He looked down at his spear and instinctively knew that if he were to try again he would be able to make a better one. He assumed that was him gaining a skill and was about to call his virtual assistant to check, when he stopped himself.

He had purposely chosen his starting point to be as far away from people as possible. Unlike other games his assistant was advanced enough to count as such. For better, or for worse, she counted as an intelligent identity, and as such, he resolved to have as little to do with her as possible. Anything that could think meant another problem for him, whether that was humans, NPCs, or AIs.

Instead, he settled his urge. He would work it out on his own.

He looked at the spear for a moment, wondering if he should remake it. Any improvement that could be gained from redoing it would be minimal, but even a small advantage would still be an advantage. Sighing, he sat down and redid it, until he was satisfied. Then, he used it to help himself stand up.

He hefted his spear in one hand, testing its balance. Taking a mock combat stance, he wondered what he could test it on, when his stomach grumbled. His mouth split into a grin. He knew exactly where to start.