Glenn took a moment to gather himself and all his Strength. Yet as treacherous as this climb might be, it gave him comfort that there was a sizable ledge below the spider hole. If he fell, at least he wouldn’t fall all the way to the forest below. He’d just drop embarrassingly back onto the ledge.

“What if I gave you a push?” Becka asked.

Glenn nodded. “That might help, actually.” Even with Becka’s low Strength, a little extra support could give him just the extra oomph he needed to make the climb. “Let me see if I can balance up with both feet on the ledge, first. Then I’ll step up on your palm.”

“I was actually going to shove you in the ass.”

Glenn laughed and shook his head. “Like you could reach it once I climb.”

She huffed. “Now that’s cruel.”

“You can try all you want later,” he assured her, then stepped up onto the ledge.

Glenn almost slipped off immediately, but caught himself. He balanced precariously against the steep limestone rise, toes tingling inside his boot. He placed his other boot just beside it, on the top of the spider hole ledge. He waited for the rocky outcropping to break, yet it held firm.

Cliff Spiders could actually remake rock itself, digging straight into it with their legs, fangs, and magic. They also spun rock, not silk, and it took a good swing of a blade to sever their thin but rocky webs. The beady little Monsters had obviously spent a great deal of time reinforcing this tiny ledge before the Grass Hawk arrived and ate them. Glenn silently thanked the majestic beast.

He carefully slid his hands along the rock, raising his arms as far as they could go. Perfect! With the added height of the ledge around the abandoned spider hole, his fingertips actually looked to be less than a man’s head from the cliff ledge. “I think I’ve got it! Just need a little more height!”

He heard dress rustle below him, and shoes scuff rock. A gentle shove arrived beneath one of his heels. “All right. Ready here. Though Gods, the bottom of your boots are disgusting.”

“Sorry,” he said. “Just lock your arms as straight as you can. Actually, use both arms and put your palms together. All I need is one ledge.”

“Right,” Becka said from below, as shoes brushed rock and the push beneath his heel grew. “You aren’t budging.”

“Lifting my foot now.” Glenn slid his boot up the cliff, now balanced precariously on only the tip of the other boot on the thin ledge. “Okay, palms up, arms locked, now!”

“They’re up!” Becka shouted.

Glenn lowered his boot and found resistance where he needed it. Before he could think of all the ways this could go wrong, he pushed down with the boot atop Becka’s raised and joined palms while simultaneously pushing up with the toes of the boot atop the ledge. He jumped ... barely.

Yet his dress-wrapped hands cleared the ledge just enough to grip it. Pains as bad as fresh thorns ripped through his torn and savaged flesh as he grabbed the corner of the rock. He ground his teeth and held on. Using all his considerable Strength, he pulled himself upward, just like doing a pull-up on the high cross pole stretching across the inside of the Calmwarden barn.

He almost lost his grip, boot tips scrambling for purchase on the rock. Yet his aching arms and screaming hands refused to betray him. Almost before he was aware of it, he reached waist level with the cliff ledge. He was rewarded with the sight of gently rising earth and trees beyond.

He let his weight fall forward, rolled, and scrambled onto damp earth. He’d done it! He’d reached the second level of the Deepscorn Woods, but only with Becka’s help.

“Did you make it?” she shouted up from below. “Glenn?”

“I made it!” he shouted happily.

He stood, turned back toward the cliff edge, and belatedly tried to brush his palms against each other. Pain lanced through his hands as he hissed. He really shouldn’t be doing that right now.

A low growl from behind made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Glenn clenched the grip of his [Bronze Short Sword] and unsheathed it as he’d practiced countless times over the past few years. He gripped the blade’s hilt with both aching hands. He spun just in time to see a single Gloamwolf charging down the rising hill.

It intended to knock him clean off the cliff! Yet Glenn had been charged by Gloamwolves many times before. It took only an eyeblink for his experience and instincts to plot out this battle for him.

He couldn’t stab into the wolf without the momentum from its forthcoming leap sending them both of the ledge. He also couldn’t dodge to the side ... it would simply turn and match him. So instead he dropped to one knee and brought his sword point directly between them.

As they always did, the Gloamwolf used [-Pounce-] the moment it was in range. Glenn stabbed, but forward and up, trusting to the Prowess he’d gained over five Levels. His sword impacted the Gloamwolf in the lower center of its chest, and then Glenn pushed up with his impressive Strength.

The wolf’s Health Bar appeared and dropped by half, yet it lived. Snarling all the while, the Gloamwolf rose higher than it intended. Glenn literally flung it directly over his head. One flailing paw and the claws attached tore into his face as it passed. Then, it tumbled over the cliff’s edge.

The Gloamwolf yelped once before an audible crack silenced it forever. A perceptible jolt of current entered through Glenn’s toes and trickled up his spine. The fall had finished it off.

“Glenn!” Becka shouted indignantly from below. “Did you just drop a Gloamwolf on me?”

Ecstasy flooded Glenn's body, starting at his toes and coursing up his legs … and into everything else. The torrent of pleasure was almost blasphemously intense. The sting on his face, the pulsing pains in his hands, and all the other aches and pains faded away.

When the ecstasy faded, Glenn could move again. Better yet, he now felt like he’d slept a full eight hours in a warm bed. When he stood, sword in hand, he felt like a new man entirely.

Glenn willed his Status Sheet to open.

Name: Glenn Redwood ==== Age: 16 Strength: 14 Level: 5 Divinity: 8 Class: Unassigned Luck: 7 HP: 120/120 Vitality: 12 Blood: 60/60 Wisdom: 6 Experience: 22009/27000 Prowess: 9

...

Glenn whooped. He didn’t need to evaluate his Skills and Blessings, which remained unchanged, to know that he’d finally broken the Level Cap that had thwarted him for almost three months. He’d gained a full 10 experience from soloing the Gloamwolf, since Becka hadn’t touched it.

Better yet, the Gods seemed to approve of his exploits during his climb to Level 5. They’d blessed him with one Attribute Point in Strength, Vitality, and even Prowess, the attribute he’d found the most difficult to improve. That was awesome.

In theory, anyone in Balarel could gain one point in every Attribute every time they Leveled, but in practice, it rarely worked that way. When a person Leveled, the Pantheon awarded Attribute points … but only for Attributes the person had stressed to their utmost while gaining that Level.

That was why Glenn had never gained any Divinity. One had to burn Blood using magic Skills to increase that attribute, or fight only with daggers, and Glenn had never done either. He had gained a single point in Wisdom, at Level 3, simply by reading all the books on Adventurers available in Wolfpine’s chapel, and he remained proud of that accomplishment.

Gaining three Attribute Points alone would have been great news, but Leveling up had also healed all his wounds. “I’m Level 5 now!” he shouted happily, over the cliff. “We did it!”

“Grats!” Becka shouted from below. That was how the Adventurers of Balarel typically congratulated each other for reaching a new Level. “Now can you please lower a stick? Before it burst into ash, the Gloamwolf soiled itself. The smell down here is thick.”

Glenn felt a bit guilty about that. He did need to get Becka up here, too. “Be right back!”

====

In the world of Balarel, gaining a new Level is known as “Leveling Up”. Doing so requires gaining vast swathes of experience by slaughtering thousands of monsters. Because Monsters killed with the aid of a Party offer only partial experience, learning how to Level efficiently is a constant balance between risk and reward. The overly cautious fall behind, while the overly reckless meet the forever death.

Yet in those rare cases where one does Level Up, the Gods offer great rewards. First, while killing all enemies offer a small amount of pleasure, reaching a new Level offers mortals a moment of Divine ecstasy they can obtain in no other manner. The Gods also grant marginal increases in attributes based on what attributes the mortal stressed while Leveling. Finally, Leveling Up offers a miraculous cure.

Even a Lifecaster cannot match the healing provided by a Level Up. All poisons, ailments, debilitating injuries, otherwise fatal wounds, and even unbreakable curses are cured by the Gods when a mortal gains a Level. Even the most dedicated of Adventurers may only Level up once or twice a year, so the Gods ensure the reward is worth the effort.

Even if a mortal doesn’t initially choose to follow the charge of the Gods and Level, once they’ve tasted the Divine pleasure of a Level Up, few can resist chasing the next one.