Glenn slowed only enough to not make as much noise as a stumbling bear. He couldn’t creep up in stealth this time, not with Becka in so much danger. He rounded a winding turn in the torn up path and immediately spotted a bizarre scene ahead. The Moss Beast battered a rock with both hands.

No, not a rock. A cliff, one of many shallow cliffs that cut through the rockier portions of Deepscorn Woods. Most rose scarcely higher than a tall man’s head.

As Glenn moved closer, he caught a glimpse of a small fire burning ahead of the Moss Beast, in the rock. In a split in the rock. Glenn grinned wide in relief.

That split led into what he’d affectionately named a “donut hole”, one of the many small, circular depressions torrential Grassea rains carved into the soft rock that made up these meandering cliffs. As the Moss Beast reared back, Glenn was certain the fire burning in the split was a torch. He was also certain he saw a hint of blue beyond the split, in the donut.

Becka’s top was that shade of blue.

Becka had squished herself through the split in the cliffs and then dropped the torch behind her, balking both the Moss Beast and the Grass Sprites. The Moss Beast was too big to fit through the split, and the Grass Sprites were too afraid of the torch fire to skitter over it. Gods, she was brilliant!

Yet was Becka now trapped? Given the blasphemous curses she was shouting and the fact that she hadn’t left her pursuers behind, she must be trapped. She had no reason to antagonize these Monsters any longer, not with Glenn gone as long as he had been.

Yet that torch wouldn’t burn forever, and thanks to the fact that Glenn now carried Becka’s [Traveler’s Pack], she had no other torches. She also had no [Light Healing Potions] to salve her wounds. Besides, even if she did, he’d never abandon her in the woods like this. So what to do?

Still holding the torch, he crouched low and approached quietly. Now that it was clear Becka was, at least for the moment, out of immediate danger, he didn’t want to Anger the Monsters before he was ready. The fact that neither the Moss Beast or its Grass Sprites had come at Glenn despite him running up behind them with a torch suggested all their Anger was focused on Becka.

While terrifying, most Monsters were easy to manipulate. The more one gained their Anger, the more they focused on one alone. Anger a Monster enough, and it would ignore six different Rangers shooting arrows into its flanks just to take a swipe at the Shield who’d Angered it.

It was time for a calculated risk. Glenn planted his torch in the wet ground, then found a sturdy rock and took aim. He tossed that rock at the nearest Grass Sprite.

And missed. Devilspit. His Prowess still wasn’t high enough to hit a small Monster with a rock with unerring accuracy. He picked up another rock, tossed it, missed, and picked up a third. That whacked the distant Grass Sprite right in its stick head. That sprite turned on him and charged.

Yet none of the others charged with it, which confirmed Glenn’s assumption. The Moss Beast was directing these Grass Sprites, which left them focused on the target the Moss Beast wanted to defeat: Becka. Individual Grass Sprites could be taunted away, allowing him to safely thin the herd.

The single Grass Sprite skipped over, chittering. Glenn calmly lopped it in half with his sword, then dropped back to a knee and fumbled around for another rock. He threw it, and this time, he hit the next Grass Sprite on the first try. Unfortunately, when it chittered, five others came with it.

So that wasn’t great.

The Moss Beast began to turn as well. It knew something was wrong. Should he start running so he could lead it away from Becka now?

Becka shouted from inside the donut hole against the cliff. “Hey ugly! Your breath smells like cow farts! Eat this!” She snatched up the torch and poked it out from her hole.

The Moss Beast emitted the sound of bending branches, then snatched angrily at the torch with one gnarled hand. Becka yanked it back inside the split. The Moss Beast battered the cliff.

Meanwhile, six angry Grass Sprites danced toward Glenn. Not a problem. He set his feet, raised his [Bronze Training Sword], and waited, gauging their progress by torchlight. Then, he swung at the lead sprite after a quick glance at the others closest behind it.

[-Phantom Slice-]!

The closet Grass Sprite popped in half with the force of his strike, and the two behind it did exactly the same. While that put Glenn’s only Skill on Cooldown, that left only three in this wave to deal with, not six. Between two more slices and one precise stomp, all three remaining sprites died.

“Get back to town and get help, you idiot!” Becka shouted from inside the donut. “I’m fine!”

“You’re trapped!” Glenn shouted back.

“I’m fine being trapped!”

“Well I’m not!” Glenn shouted back. “Just hold on!”

The Moss Beast turned toward Glenn again. It had noticed him, maybe. There were only six more Grass Sprites left, yet the Moss Beast did look ancient. Glenn had no way to know what Level it actually was ... but that problem went both ways.

Becka once more grabbed her torch and waved it through the crack. “Stop that! Look at me, you rancid pile of cabbage!”

The Moss Beast ignored her. It stomped away from the split in the rock at a slow and ponderous pace, then raised one gnarled hand. The last six Grass Sprites stampeded toward Glenn on their tiny branch legs. Glenn popped up Status Sheet for a quick look at his Cooldown.

[-Phantom Slice-00:01:32]

This fight would be long over before his Skill came off cooldown, one way or the other. Troublesome. Yet instead of running, as the Moss Beast might expect, Glenn decided to bluff. He charged both beast and sprites with the loudest, most feral roar he could muster.

Not knowing what Level one’s opponent was cut both ways in battle. The Moss Beast, while having only the simplest of intelligence, did have the ability to evaluate the difficulty of any foe it came across. It could conceivably flee from an opponent it genuinely believed was too powerful to defeat. So Glenn would just have to convince it he was a high level Adventurer.

He’d start by slicing its last six Grass Sprite minions limb from limb.

One great swing parted two sprites at the same time. The others rushed him. Glenn kicked one off into the woods, and it chittered as it hurtled away. The last three slashed at the thick cloth on his legs, and one dropped to chew on his boots. The teeth of the closest Grass Sprite cut cloth and skin.

Glenn slammed his sword straight down, skewering one sprite down the middle. He lifted his hiking boot, with the Grass Sprite clinging to it, and let gravity tug the sprite beneath his boot. He stomped down hard. The satisfying crunch the sprite made as he crushed it flat was worth the pain.

Finally, Glenn sheathed his sword in full view of the Moss Beast as the last Grass Sprite clung to his forearm. The monster chewed its way up viciously, gnashing flesh in its sharp wooden teeth. That stung, but Glenn had spent two years and four levels learning to endure pain.

He simply watched the Sprite dismissively for a few seconds, eyes locked with the Moss Beast. He then snatched the Grass Sprite’s head with one hand, careful not to grip anywhere near its mouth. He lifted the chittering Grass Sprite by its head, leaving its spindly limbs flailing.

He grabbed one leg. He raised the sprite to his chest, bared his teeth in a grin, and pulled.

The Grass Sprite’s chittering turned desperate as Glenn used all of his 13 Strength to pull both one way and the other. The mournful little chirp the Grass Sprite made just before Glenn literally ripped it in half with his bare hands almost made him feel guilty about killing it.

He’d just inflicted a painful, torturous death. Under other circumstances, Glenn would never have done something so cruel. Yet his life and Becka’s were at stake, and this ... this was just a sprite.

Both halves of the now dead Grass Sprite burst into ash in Glenn’s hands. He brushed his palms together, like cleaning them after touching some flour, and then casually, haughtily, picked up his torch. He then drew his sword again, staring balefully with a weapon in one hand and fire in the other.

“Well?” Glenn glared balefully at the Moss Beast. “How would you like to die, beast?”

The Moss Beast roared, flexed, and charged him like an enraged bear.

So ... that wasn’t great.

“Run!” Becka shouted, from behind the Moss Beast.

Glenn did—but not away. He charged the Moss Beast instead, howling with all the rage he could muster at the fact that it had tried to steal a little girl. He might have imagined it, but it did seem as though the Moss Beast was slowing. It might not like that Glenn had called its bluff.

Glenn increased his pace and waved his sword slightly as he ran, howling like an enraged Brutalist. The Moss Beast stopped and drew both big hands together to protect its body, bracing itself to absorb Glenn’s absolutely brutal strike. It really did look afraid.

Glenn reached and swung his [Bronze Training Sword] down with all his 13 Strength.

Sticks snapped, but only a little. The blade lodged itself in the first bark layer of the Moss Beast’s defensively raised hands and stuck there. He and the beast stared at each other for a brief moment as each wrapped their mind around what had just happened, or rather ... what hadn’t.

The Moss Beast ripped its hands apart and straightened to its full height, then roared.

Glenn dashed right around it, straight for the split in the rock. He caught a single glimpse of Becka’s wide brown eyes before he reached the split and threw himself into the narrow space between cliffs. He got stuck immediately. Slick, smelly cliffs crushed in on him from both sides.

With the [Traveler’s Pack] still strapped tightly to his back, there was no way Glenn could fit.

“Devilspit!” Glenn swore. He wriggled on as best he could, heedless of the way the rock scraped his skin bloody. Becka reached into the gap with both hands. She gripped his nearest arm and pulled. Below his feet, he felt the heat of her still burning torch between his boots.

“Push!” Becka shouted. “Push, Glenn!”

Yet between Glenn’s large frame, his fevered dive, and the bulk of the [Traveler’s Pack], Glenn had wedged himself tightly in the split. That made him a human blockade, but as much as he cared about Becka, he didn’t really care to be a human blockade. He liked his arms and legs where they were.

Behind Glenn, branches creaked and swayed as the Moss Beast moved. Thunderous steps announced its return to the split. It would pull him from the rocks and rip him apart from both ends, just like Glenn had destroyed the Grass Sprite. He couldn’t move.

“Hold still!” Becka shouted, and drew out her [Commoner’s Knife].

Glenn’s eyes widened. She wasn’t going to ... oh. She was.

He winced as Becka slashed desperately at his [Ring-Mail Armor], which, fortunately, protected him well. She began sawing through the single strap of the [Traveler’s Pack] around Glenn’s shoulder. Just then, Glenn lurched. The Moss Beast had wrapped its big hand around the pack. It pulled.

Becka cursed and sawed away with her knife. Just as hot, rancid breath blew past his back, Glenn popped out of the split in the rocks, freed from the pack. He tumbled onto Becka as Becka tumbled to the ground, and while she huffed and swore, she made for a remarkably soft landing.

====

Excerpt from the Introduction to Card’s Manual of Monsters

While it is clear to any Adventurer who has engaged a Monster that they are capable of using basic strategy in combat, and even of coordinating in small groups, the question as to whether Monsters are truly intelligent is one that has vexed mortal philosophers for ages. For that matter, what defines intelligence? The use of basic tools? The use of language? A nebulous “spark” of self?”

While some tribal Monsters appear to communicate with each other, they speak no language mortals can understand and make no attempt to converse when challenged. While some humanoid Monsters use basic tools for attack and defense, they neither write nor read. And while Monsters often set simple ambushes for unwary Adventurers, they offer no parlay and accept no surrender.

Yet when facing superior numbers and hopelessly outmatched by a single enemy, Monsters will sometimes attempt to flee. Is this then a sign of intelligence? Or is simply a predator’s instinctive reaction to being challenged by a stronger predator?

Ultimately, all we mortals know is that the Gods intended mortals and Monsters to be forever opposed. Monsters, as charged by the Pantheon, must attack all mortals they come across, and mortal Adventurers, as charged by the Pantheon, must slay Monsters and grow stronger. In this way, the relationship between mortals and Monsters mirrors a Duel between consenting mortals.

Both parties understand what is required of them. Both parties accept that they may find victory or meet death. So whether Monsters are intelligent has no bearing on whether they should be killed. The Gods have told us clearly what we must do to honor Their wishes.

And we would be fools to question the Gods.