You said it was a squirrel?

‘Yes, but it was massive. Far larger than any I had seen. And carnivorous.’

In short, exactly as I had predicted?

‘Yes.’

You will soon find that my other predictions are just as accurate. Is there anything else you wish to know regarding monsters?

‘What is the difference between this squirrel and the monsters we already know? You warned me that the animals would begin to change, but it seems that they are less of a threat. This one was only a little larger than our puppy.’

I’m sure you already know the answer to that first question. Tell me, what time of day did you observe this creature?

‘Midday.’

Then you know that these monsters will not fear the sun. As to your second question: they will become stronger in time. Much, much stronger.

‘Are they vulnerable to other things?’

It depends on the monster. No weaknesses work in all situations. In many cases, simple run-of-the-mill physical violence will suffice. But if you should ever learn of a powerful monster, do not hesitate to consult with me, as it may have an exploitable weakness.

‘I see. Tell me, then. Why are we getting different monsters so long after the Apocalypse?’

The process of change is not something that happens immediately. Simply put, your world is slowly becoming saturated with mana. As this saturation reaches new heights, the mana will affect the creatures living there to a greater extent. This includes animals, but also humans. You, too, will be able to grow stronger with time. Much will change before your Apocalypse is over. Embryo may be able to slow the changes, but they will come.

‘I will have to take your word for it.’

Don’t. Always verify and see for yourself.

‘It seems you don’t know me that well yet.’

Ah, I see. Yes. You have never trusted a word I told you, correct?

‘I wouldn’t go that far.’

It is as I said: I only wish to be of some small help to you and your family. This is according to Umeith’s wishes. But I believe your decision to be wise. Someone once told me to receive advice with a grain of salt and gifts with caution. If you do this, you will be long for the world.

‘A good policy. Tell me once more: how can I see Umeith?’

My apologies. Nothing has changed since we last spoke.

‘Is that right?’

I understand that this is hard to believe, Hemash. Know that I am doing everything in my power to reunite you. She wishes dearly to see you again.

‘I see. Then, if there is nothing else…’

I nearly forgot. There is one more thing you should be aware of concerning this new threat. So far, you have never been attacked in your homes by monsters, correct?

‘That is right.’

These animalistic monsters will have no compunctions against this. Prepare your defenses accordingly.

‘Compunctions? Monsters have not attacked us because they do not want to?’

Of course this would be confusing. I should have explained it earlier. You see, the first breed of monsters that you are accustomed to are not monsters at all. They are fiends. You may know them as demons from Hell.

‘I see. Putting aside whether I believe you, why have they not attacked us in our homes?’

Fiends, unlike monsters, have a few very specific weaknesses. Sunlight is one of them. Another, which is specific to most types of fiends, is an aversion to entering homes uninvited. They are capable of it, but it weakens them.

‘These fiends sound like vampires.’

So you know of vampires. Good. Yes, vampires and fiends share many similarities. A surprising number.

‘Wonderful, so there are vampires out there?’

Pray that there aren’t. Oh, and tell me before we digress further: have you spoken to Albek of his aegis?

‘I have.’

How has he received the advice?

‘I think he will begin to use it more freely.’

Good. Though the Voice certainly has evil intentions, the gift it granted was real. Until such a time comes as he can rid himself of its shackles, it would be better to use it and grow stronger. How does the boy fare?’

‘He seems well enough, but… he does not sleep.’

Is that so? Which form does it take—does he stay up all night, or does he attempt to sleep but cannot?

‘The latter. I believe he is suffering from nightmares.’

I thought this might happen. This is distressing.

‘Why? You know what is happening to him?’

You will not like to hear this.

‘Tell me.’

Simply, it is your presence.

‘What?’

Your presence afflicts the boy with insomnia. It is the process of blood resonance going... haywire, in a manner of speaking.

‘Explain more plainly before I close this book and go to sleep.’

Have you ever felt anything—how can I describe it—like a pull, a desire to embrace oblivion? To veer your car into a tree, to commit suicide unprovoked?

‘I’m sorry?’

Anything analogous to this? This is a feeling experienced by many people, but for you and your family, I fear it may be stronger. If there have been no suicidal thoughts, have there been thoughts of, say, jumping into a pit where you fall forever? Have you dreamt of space, surrounded by nothing but emptiness and distant stars? Or perhaps sometimes you are overwhelmed by a profound sense of apathy for everything, including your own children?

Your lack of response makes me feel I’ve hit the mark. When I first began speaking with you, I was astonished at how sane you appeared to be. I was hopeful that… never mind. Our time grows short, but allow me to explain. You may think of this phenomenon as Umeith’s legacy. She left, not because she wished it, but to protect her family. Unfortunately, it was already too late for you, and now Albek is showing symptoms of the same.

‘You are saying this is a disease? I never had Albek’s symptoms. And whatever this feeling is sounds like it stems from Umeith, rather than me.’

At its heart, it does stem from her. As for the nightmares: the affliction manifests differently. Albek is a mage, and more in-tune to the mana-flows of reality. Strange dreams are common for mages who have delved in places where they should not have gone, or from those suffering from a supernatural disease. But your affliction, Hemash. It has only been growing over time, has it not? Despite Umeith’s absence?

…

Your silences may as well be affirmatives. Your growing illness has begun to affect Albek. Any mage who spent long enough in your presence would eventually find themselves showing symptoms, but the fact that you share the same blood with Albek means that the transmission is strengthened by a significant factor. Your blood resonance makes it that the distance can be quite large between the two of you, and he will still be affected.

‘What is Umeith, that her presence can have this effect on us?’

She would not want me to answer this. That is a question you must ask her herself.

‘Fine. Liyne? Why hasn’t she shown signs of this?’

I’m certain that she will shortly.

‘What can I do? How do I fix this?’

Fortunately, you are the sole carrier, not Albek. This is not truly a disease, but something more analogous to a curse. By leaving, his symptoms will gradually begin to fade.

‘Leave?’

Leave. Get as far away from him as possible. The only other outcome will be a slow death for Albek, and eventually Liyne.

Hemash closed the journal, massaging his weary eyes.

It had to be a lie. He was stopping his son from sleeping? Blood resonance? Curses? It all sounded like nonsense. Albek was clearly plagued by nightmares from the ravaging of their home and his near-death experiences fighting monsters. The Voice, too, must be having an effect on his son. Hemash would be more surprised if he were sleeping well. And his correspondent hadn’t explained why this affliction would be acting up now, of all times. Not after he’d been suffering from it for years… unless the changing world had an effect on—no, now he was attempting to rationalize it. It must be a lie.

The only thing keeping Hemash from dismissing it outright was how accurately the correspondent had identified his symptoms. If he were truly the cause of his son’s suffering… no. It was better not to think of it.

Just what was Umeith? Why was his wife at the center of everything, her influence reaching out and strangling him, even when she was absent? And the correspondent had claimed that she wished to see him. To see him.

Laughable.

Umeith never wished for anything. She had no friends, and never attempted to make any. Family members were no more than acquaintances that lived in the same home. All she ever seemed to care for was her first child: Albek.

Most maddening of all was that despite Hemash suspecting the depths of her disdain, he was still consumed by the desire to see her again. When she left, it was like he lost a part of himself. Every emotion, every dream, every act of affection he showed her over the years was a piece of him that she received, hoarding away in some unfathomable vault. And she left without returning a single fragment.

Hemash thought he’d been sowing seeds that would sprout one day. Instead, he’d been drowning grains in a swamp.

He tore away from the wounds of his past. Again, he had grown sidetracked. This seemed to happen more often as he grew older. But he had to stay sharp. He must. What to think of the correspondent? Liar or ally?

Hemash still knew so little of him. Whenever he asked for more information about his identity, he would subtly divert the conversation. However, he wasn’t the only one being untruthful.

He hadn’t done exactly as asked. The correspondent wanted Albek to use the aegis as much as possible. Offensively, even, to spur his growth. Hemash lied to him when he said he had convinced his son to utilize it more frequently. He didn’t want Albek to rely too much on a power given to him by the Voice. When he spoke to his son, he emphasized that he should use the powerful ability to defend himself, but only when he had no other choice. In the end, it was a power granted by another—and few people let you borrow power for free.

Despite the unsatisfying resolution to his many questions, particularly concerning Umeith, the other advice he’d been given had helped greatly, whether it was information on the dangers of world that he could share with Jameson or advice on cultivating his own ki.

Already, he felt some response from his legs. Responses he hadn’t felt in years. Thinking about that helped him look upon this mysterious writer a bit more fondly. Despite his reluctance to divulge sensitive information, he did seem genuinely concerned with his family’s wellbeing…

Hm? When did he start thinking like this? Wasn’t he just accusing him of lying?

Puzzling over the enigma, Hemash drifted off to sleep in his wheelchair two hours before dawn.

- - -

My, but maintaining the Persona with this man is a difficult endeavor. Is he truly even human? I can see why she chose him. Perhaps it’s nothing core to his character, but a result of being inundated in her presence that makes him so difficult to subvert. Either way, the end result won’t change. It’s only a matter of time before the seed I’ve planted bears fruit.

I’ve heard that it’s good to mix truth with the lies you tell, but I wonder whether there is some ratio one must adhere to? Half lies, half truth? Perhaps mostly truth with some lying on the side? Yes, that sounds effective. Unfortunately, I am a creature that thrives on lies. Bloodline resonance... what a story! Of course he has no effect on his son. Any thoughts of the Void start and end with the source—Umeith herself. Oh, look at me, I’ve taken to calling her Umeith, now. How delightful! Umeith! It sounds as if we are on a first-name basis when I do that, doesn’t it?

Perhaps I should contact her and see—oh, don’t look at me like that, dear Oracle. No need to be afraid, I wouldn’t risk anything of the sort, you know. Especially when I still don’t know what her game is.

Back to the topic at hand. Hemash. Yes, when speaking to that man, I’ve learned it’s best to inflate his ego. Talk about a complex—the man is chomping at the bit to believe he is the cause of all his family’s problems, that he must bear the heaviest burden on his back alone. Striking out alone will seem the natural course of action to him, the last head of the Shokarov dynasty. Soon enough, he’ll start believing that the idea to leave sprang forth organically within that lump of matter he calls a brain. The prideful truly make for the best martyrs.

Well, it’s not all his fault. The suggestion woven into the pages of the journal is weak, yes, but masterfully constructed.

It’s good that the boy is giving the Fairy the runaround with the help of the locket. I’ve had plenty of space to work in. If all goes accordingly, it should look as though I want her to know of my involvement and wish to work together. She should think I’m aiming to get at either the mastermind of her little plot, or perhaps even the hermit himself, rather than the boy. Shall I be a bit more overt now? I’m fortunate that everyone seems to have fallen into the bad habit of overestimating me. Really, I’m striking out on quite the terrifying playing field. But I shall make use of their hesitation.

I cannot contain my smile. Every day that passes, I increasingly take after the bad influences in my life. There will be no complaints from me, however. I love them so.

-S

Day 6 Report:

designation:ZLTDB0K9HUV continues to exceed growth rate projections [PL+5].

STAT gain: 2

Pentad gain (DEX) of 1.

Doublet gain (THM) of 1.

SKL acquisition: N/A

Variable isolation unsuccessful: one further incursion from stat.eff (EXCLUDED).

Sprite at heightened risk of corruption.

Halting analysis of problem of noncompletion of harvest.directive.

Initiating self-diagnostic.

Emergency report filed, to be submitted upon renewal of uplink.designation:ZLTDB0K9HUV.

Resuming special protocol with exclusionary status.

God, how Albek missed getting sleep. Waking up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night started to get really old after the third time. The dreams were getting worse, and he felt that he was spending less time asleep each night before they caught up.

There was always a pursuer. Often, more than one. They never said a word. Sometimes it was the sound of footsteps behind him, or of flapping wings, or galloping horses. Albek would weave in and out of obstacles like mad, but he never seemed to gain an inch of distance on them. The pursuers changed often, he could tell, but he didn’t ever grow used to them. No, instead they loomed greater in his psyche with each passing night. He was afraid that if he turned around he would be petrified by the sight of them and stop in his tracks. So he never looked.

He wasn’t planning on finding out what happened if they caught him. Staying awake was starting to seem like the only way to avoid that eventuality.

He sat on the couch with his arms folded. If he wasn’t going to sleep, he might as well use the time to practice. He couldn’t use Cold Snap indoors, but there was still a lot he could do with Increase Momentum. Seeing Liyne yesterday with the shovel had given him an idea. She was using the earth spell Mold Clay with her hands, but later he saw her applying it to tools as well. Couldn’t he apply his own spells to tools? Surely Increase Momentum could be used for more things than chucking rocks. Picking up the baseball bat that was lying nearby, he held it in his hand and tried sensing its imprint like he’d done with the ball yesterday.

After a moment, the bat’s image appeared in his mind on the blank canvas of the world of the Sight. He tried waving it around to sense its momentum. He jumped when the bat tapped a lamp resting on the coffee table and knocked it over.

Cursing under his breath, he used Shimmer three times to locate a candle and matchbox so he could see what he was doing. The light spell hadn’t gotten any easier over time, much to his annoyance, but it was still relatively simple to cast.

Once the candle was lit and the lamp tidied up, he moved to a spot where he could practice without hitting anything.

Then, he closed his eyes and tried again.

He could see it. It was more complex than the baseball, but not so much so that it was impossible to grasp. In fact, the ease with which the imprint came to him surprised Albek. The bat was familiar. He rarely ever parted with it since the Apocalypse, and it seemed to be returning his affection in an unexpected way.

He could sense the aluminum. The leather on its grip. The lead his father had worked into its core, giving it its trademarked illegal heft. These elements were represented by what appeared to be several different Orders of Magic, but most important for him was the Order of Force. He gripped it with both hands and uttered the incantation.

“Sukar.”

It jerked, pushing down for an instant as its weight appeared to increase. If Albek hadn’t been ready, he would have dropped it. He grinned. It had taken him much longer to manage that with the baseball. He held the bat up in a mock batting motion and began slowly going through the motions like he was trying to hit a pitch.

‘Ignore the force of gravity. Ignore weight. Only focus on the horizontal movement.’

“Sukar.”

It didn’t work. The bat jerked downwards. So he tried again, being sure to use the minimum amount of mana possible so he wouldn’t deplete his thauma resilience.

“Sukar.”

No luck. Now he needed a short rest to recharge his Sight.

“Sukar.”

Still nothing.

“Sukar.”

…

By the time dawn broke, Albek was at last rewarded for his efforts.

Milestone Reached! Skill obtained: Tier 0 Low-Rank Spell: Increase Momentum [Lv0]

Albek’s bat was whirling around him at surprising speeds, though he appeared to hardly be exerting himself. His only physical struggle involved holding on to the bat once the spell took hold. He let go of it once accidentally, and luckily, it flew into the couch rather than the wall. He’d been holding back since then, but he was still able to send the bat around at a decent clip.

His tiredness and euphoria battled against one another until the former won, and he collapsed on the couch, giggling softly as if delirious. The candle sputtered, burning low. He waved a hand lazily in the air, and with a thought, it went out. He couldn’t fight his exhaustion any longer, and his eyelids closed as the heavy blanket of sleep overtook him.

Ten minutes later, Albek bolted upright, accidentally slamming a foot against the leg of the coffee table as he floundered. He fell off the couch and to the ground, where he crawled another few feet before stopping, eyes wild. He lay on his stomach for a moment, panting, before the pain from his toe finally woke him up. He groaned and, putting his head in his hands, fought back tears of frustration.

- - -

Jameson came downstairs to find Albek already up. The boy was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, hugging his knees. He glanced up when Jameson approached, but his eyes seemed to look through the man, as if focused on a distant object.

“You doing alright?”

“Mm.”

“Sleeping good?”

“Mrg.”

“Is that a yes, or an ‘I-don’t-wanna-answer’?”

“Mmng.”

…

“Right. I’m on my way out. Will you get some sleep? My bed’s free if there’s a problem with the couch.”

Albek chose not to answer. It took the least effort.

“Hey, kiddo, you can tell me if something’s botherin’ you.”

Bothering? No, nothing was bothering him. Unless he counted the haunting feeling like he was being stalked in his dreams, coupled with a mounting sense of existential dread.

Jameson sighed, and a calloused palm wrapped itself around Albek’s arm and hauled him to his feet.

“Ever been hunting before?” he asked.

Albek blinked at him.

“We’re heading out in five. Grab your boots and bag.”

- - -

Albek was staring at Mr. Bray’s broad back as the two of them traipsed down an old dirt trail in the woods. His camouflage jacket was tattered and worn, with several large reddish stains on the sleeves and hem. He carried a recurve bow in his hand. Albek had watched the man string it just before they left, flexing the tough wood with barely any effort.

He kept his voice low as they moved, even though their crashing footsteps would doubtlessly scare the deer away long before their voices did.

“We’re heading over to a popular grazing spot,” he said. “There are a few places they like to go, but I’ve been noticing them gatherin’ more and more ‘round this place. We’ll be sitting out here for a couple hours, probably. If we haven’t gotten anything by about ten or eleven, we’ll head home. Any questions?”

“Mr. Bray?”

“Yeah?”

“What am I doing here?”

“You’re backup, kid.”

“I don’t even have a bow.”

“Your hand’s hurt. You’ve got that magic spell, dontcha? The icy one?”

“It doesn’t go very far.”

“That right? In that case, you’re here to help me carry stuff.”

‘Did he even have a plan when he dragged me out here?’

Despite his complaints, Albek felt a lot more clear-headed after inhaling the fresh mountain air for a few minutes. The exercise, too, was light enough to not bother his sore body overmuch.

Jameson spoke again as a thought came to him. “Oh, but you’re also here to learn. Huntin’s a valuable skill. More now than it ever was. We won’t be able to keep lootin’ houses forever, ya know.”

“Then at least give me a bow…” Albek mumbled under his breath.

They carried on for another few minutes before Jameson brought them to a halt.

“From here, we’ll go slow ‘n steady.”

They crept up to a clearing. Without leaving the tree line, Jameson looked around, wetting a finger and holding it to the air.

“Wind’s not blowing. Maybe not the best conditions, but should be fine. How’s your tree-climbing?”

Albek gave him a look.

“Heh, just messin’ with you,” he laughed. “Over here, there’s a stand up in one of these trees somewhere.”

After a short minute, they found it. A ladder led up to a platform constructed in the three-way split of a large tree. Jameson went first, followed by Albek. Below them, a field gently sloped down the mountain.

“It’s just bright enough now. Can you see over there? Across the field? ‘Bout three, four deer. Looks like we might get lucky today. I’d try to sneak up, but I’ve never been that stealthy. Besides, this ain’t a sport. This is dinner.”

“You’re going to shoot them from here?”

“If they decide to wander close enough, sure. Soon as they tell something’s up, they’ll all hightail it out of here though, so we’ve gotta choose our shot. Remember, they’ve got good hearing and a better sense of smell. So if you need to pass gas, just hold it in.”

“Wait, really?”

The man didn’t respond, but his lips appeared to be twitching.

“Mr. Bray?”

“…Heh. Just messin’. We’re packed pretty tight up here though, so do me the courtesy of a warning if ya do feel the urge.”

They were tightly packed. There was a little bench and then about six square feet of standing room. Jameson rested on the opposite railing and looked out over the field. They were well concealed from a distance, hidden by leafy branches.

While they waiting, Albek considered eating the cereal bar he’d brought, but he still wasn’t feeling quite hungry enough. So he passed the time by meditating, reaching out with the Sight and trying to sense the mana of the world around him. Eventually, he was interrupted by a hushed exclamation from Jameson.

“Lookit that monster!”

Albek started, thinking the man was talking about a real monster. When he followed his gaze, the first thing he saw was a herd of deer, far more than he’d seen the last time he looked up half an hour ago. They were mostly spread out in little groups, but all together there were probably thirty or forty. At the center of this gathering, however, was a single deer, a stag that stood above all the rest. Jameson was thrilled at the sight of it.

“It’s at least three hundred, maybe three-fifty! Imagine if we bagged that one. Might need two trips to bring all that meat back!”

The deer was still quite far, having just emerged from the tree line at the opposite end of the meadow.

“Boy, they sure are actin’ weird, though. Look at how they’re all arranged around him. It ain’t even breedin’ season.”

Albek saw what he meant. The herd seemed to be encircling the large buck at a distance. Not in an aggressive manner: it seemed to almost be unconscious on the part of the deer, but when the buck walked forward, the rest would slowly emulate him. Fortunately for Jameson and Albek, this meant that as the stag moved into the field, a few of the deer also made their way closer to them.

But it was odd. Albek stared at the stag for a long while, and something seemed just a little off to him. It took some time, but he discovered what it was—the grass by its feet never seemed to move. It was like the creature were a ghost. Just as he was about to point this oddity out to Jameson, the man spoke again, his voice as quiet as it would go.

“I’m gonna have to take the shot at one of these closer deer once I can. We can’t risk them getting too close and getting’ spooked by our scent.”

Albek nodded.

They waited as the herd slowly meandered its way closer. The buck at the center always seemed to stay alert, never once lowering its head to graze.

Jameson muttered something about unnatural behavior, raised his bow, and aimed down the sights at one of the deer. It was a female, or at least it had no horns that Albek could see, and it appeared to be one of the larger ones. After ensuring he was on the mark, Jameson let loose.

The arrow impacted the deer, but Albek didn’t see where. It bolted. The rest of the deer scattered, their hooves making a thunderous resounding noise, but Albek kept an eye on the one Jameson shot. The direction it was headed, unfortunately for it, brought it towards them, and it soon passed under them and into the forest behind. Jameson already had a second arrow knocked, and he brought his bow around to take one more shot. This time, he hit it in the flank, and it stumbled and fell into a bush, where it began thrashing.

Jameson started down from the stand immediately, and once he reached the ground, drew a knife from his belt. Albek followed behind, somewhat reluctantly. He could still see the downed deer panting heavily in the distance.

“Albek,” Jameson called. “Hurry.”

He did as he was asked, jogging after Jameson. Once they reached the deer, Jameson spoke again.

“Look away if you want, but this is what you gotta do.”

He circled around behind the deer. As he did, it kicked out and tried to stand, but Jameson was upon it, holding down its head. In one swift motion, he brought the knife down and through the creature’s neck. It spasmed twice more and was still. Jameson held it a moment longer, his face set into a grim line as the life bled out of its eyes.

Albek gulped. Why did this scene feel so sorrowful? He’d fought monsters, even killed them. But there was something innocent about this wild animal. Seeing it shot down and slaughtered tugged on his emotions.

“If it’s not dead by the time you catch up with it, it’s your duty to finish it,” he said. “It ain’t right to leave it sufferin’ any longer than it has to. If you don’t wanna get hurt—and these things can kick, believe me—you can shoot it again. A knife’s still the surest way, in my opinion.”

“Right…” Albek said, distracting himself with the words.

This wasn’t the most violent thing he’d seen recently. Hell, it was downright tame compared to his two monster encounters at the Robinsons, but this was different.

Just then, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. A wind blew through the woods, and it felt a little chilly.

“Albek…” Jameson said, sounding suddenly very serious. “…I want you to start walking towards me. Nice and slow. Don’t make any—”

Something rustled behind him, and he turned without thinking. Ten yards away, sleek coat shining, stood the giant buck. It certainly did appear larger close up. It was almost as tall as him, perhaps even taller with its horns.

The man spoke again, his voice urgent. “Albek, come here. Don’t spook him.”

He heard Jameson nocking an arrow. The deer was simply looking at him. It didn’t move a muscle—not from fear, but from something approaching curiosity. Albek took a step backwards.

The deer took a step forwards. It still had that same ghostlike presence that Albek noted earlier.

Another step back.

Another towards him.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and Jameson pulled Albek behind him.

“…Holy. This thing could be four-hundred pounds, lookin’ up close. Albek, stay back. I don’t like how he ain’t running. Git!”

The deer began moving towards them again. Its nose twitched as it seemed to catch a whiff of something. It snorted and shook its head.

“Way too calm. In fact, let’s start walkin’ away. I don’t want to shoot this thing when it’s so close it could gore me before it drops.”

They started increasing the distance between them and the strange deer. It wasn’t looking at them any longer, but at the doe on the ground. It approached, snout lowering to nudge the corpse. It snorted again, louder this time, and a small flurry of leaves blasted up from the force of the expelled air.

“Holy…” murmured Jameson again.

This wasn’t good. Albek could tell that much. This deer was abnormal, like the squirrel from yesterday. Jameson probably knew it too. It raised its head to look at them.

Albek was struck by its eyes. Soft and deep, they shone with a strange intelligence. There was a silver glint to them as well, and that didn’t belong on any deer he knew about.

It advanced. Jameson drew back the arrow. It wouldn’t be enough. Albek could tell that much. He took a step around Jameson and extended a hand.

“Hold up—” the man said, but Albek walked past him.

He’d have one shot at this. He had to make it count.

‘I really wish I’d practiced this more. It’s hard, when a single shot drains me.’

Spear of ice. Right between the thing’s eyes. He could do it.

The deer lowered its head, pawing the ground. It huffed once more and charged. Jameson was moving again, but he wisely didn’t stand between Albek’s outstretched hand and his target. Thirty feet. Twenty. Ten.

“Tsivuk.”

The effect of the spell was nearly invisible. The air wavered slightly, and it seemed to grow a few degrees colder around Albek. Then, the buck shifted. It suddenly appeared to teleport right in front of Albek, making the spell which would have hit its eyes strike its neck instead. He yelled, jumping back at the same time the spell hit, with a greater potency thanks to the closer proximity of its target.

The most reliable tell that he had succeeded was when the buck screamed. It veered to Albek’s left, even as he was hauled off his feet by Jameson and tossed in the opposite direction of the deer.

The creature’s voice was a low, throaty thing that oscillated through Albek’s bones. It barreled past the two of them, shaking its head. It smashed into a small tree, knocking it over, and kept going, continuing its rampage as it retreated through the woods.

Albek watched as it galloped off. After half a minute, the noises it made became distant and finally blended with the sounds of the forest. Then, he turned to Jameson.

“Did you see that?”

“Mm,” the man grunted in affirmation. “You good to stand, kiddo?”

Jameson was hovering over him, hand extended to help him up. He accepted.

“That was some wild shi-stuff,” he said. “The teleportin’ deer and you. You really got that power from Embryo?”

“Yeah.” What else could he say?

Jameson fell silent. Albek couldn’t guess what he was thinking about, but after a moment, the man spoke up again.

“We gotta leave. I’m not thinking I’ll field-dress this doe while that crazy buck’s still around. Let’s grab her and git.”

Jameson strode over to the downed deer, pulled his two arrows free, and grabbed its hind legs, pulling it after him. Shortly afterwards, he stopped, not seeming to like how much noise that made, and hoisted the whole carcass over his shoulder.

“Uh, need help?” asked Albek.

“Nope. Carry on, magic man.”

The journey back was relatively uneventful. Albek was glad of this. Even though he recovered after a couple minutes, he didn’t want to have to rely on another Cold Snap when he could easily miss or mess up the spell.

A notification popped up when they were nearly back to the street.

CHAT LOG

Hemash [whisper]: Where are you? Have you left with Jameson?

Albek [whisper]: Yes. we went hunting. On our way back now.

Hemash [whisper]: I wish you had told me. Be careful. I have my suspicions that there will be more creatures like that squirrel from yesterday out there.

Albek grinned, but didn’t reply. It was a little late for that warning. He’d have to tell his father when he returned.

Jameson, seeing the trees thinning out, seemed to relax some, as he started talking for the first time since the deer encounter.

“Ya know, I got a pop-up when I shot that doe. Embryo told me I got an Archery skill.”

Albek stopped walking for a second, then hurried after him when he kept going.

“Really? What level is it?” he asked.

“Zero.”

“This is the first time I’ve heard of somebody getting a skill for something other than magic.”

“Yeah? I’ve got another one, too,” he said. “Athletics. Got it while I was workin’ out.”

“You never mentioned it.”

“No? Well, it wasn’t a big deal to me then. But seeing what you did with that buck started me thinkin’, I guess.”

“About what?”

Jameson grunted as he swapped the deer to his other shoulder.

“Magic. Ki. Getting’ stronger, that sorta thing. I reckon you’re about the strongest guy on North Hill right about now. Well, ‘sides your dad, but he’s got a gun. That don’t count.”

Albek was taken aback by this statement. He hadn’t considered how he might hold up to the other survivors. Was he really that strong? Yeah, he scared away a deer… a big deer, but he still felt pretty weak. Then, he thought back to the meeting a few days ago, when nobody at the church seemed to have the slightest grasp of magic. Compared to them, he was practically an expert by now. Unless they also got better, which on reflection, they probably did.

‘Isn’t ki supposed to be faster to train than magic, though? They had more ki people. The mages were useless, but there was that Isaias guy. His talent was in the eighties, I think. Mr. Bray mentioned that he was the guy who raided our house.’

“Won’t ki users be stronger than me?” he asked Jameson. “Like, how hard is it to train in ki, anyway?”

“Hmm, well, it’s a little different depending on who ya ask. Your dad is a cultivator, so he’s all about meditatin’ and that. Me, I’m a warrior. Or at least that’s the role I chose. I haven’t done much with it.”

“Warrior? What’s the difference between that and a cultivator?”

Jameson scratched the back of his head, “I don’t really know. Something to do with how you train. I know your dad said he can get stronger just by sittin’ still, but I don’t know about that. I’ve always been of a mind that you gotta use it or lose it, ya know? Oh—I ain’t sayin’ anything about him being stuck in a wheelchair, I just don’t see how you’re supposed to get stronger through breathin’ or whatever it is he does.”

Uh oh. Albek saw where this conversation was headed.

‘I’d better change the topic before he starts talking about calisthenics again. I don’t think I’d survive another workout session in the state I’m in.’

All he wanted to do was go home and sleep. Or avoid sleep by practicing magic. He hadn’t decided yet.

“So anyway, what do those skills do?” he asked, hoping to steer the man away from the natural conclusion of his thought processes.

“Archery says it makes me better with a bow ‘n arrow. Obvious, yeah? Athletics says somethin’ about ‘leveraging the body’s strength.’ Hey—let it not be said that form ain’t important.”

‘Damn, he’s still headed that direction. Think, Albek, think! Change the topic!’

In the end, he opted to keep quiet and hope that Jameson would be too busy for the rest of the day to bother with him.

It turned out that he would get his wish, because half a block before the Bray’s house, both of them received a party notification from Hemash.

CHAT LOG

Hemash [party]: Church men are outside, knocking on door. They haven’t seen us yet. Careful. BASIC INFORMATION Name Albek Shokarov Titles N/A Race Human (Low) Age 16 STATISTICS Strength 11 Vitality 11 Stamina 10 Agility 11 Dexterity 14 Thauma 10 Ki 0 Mental Strength 9 (10) DETAILS Skills Shimmer [Lv0], Cold Snap [Lv1], [EXCLUDED.SKL], Increase Momentum [Lv0] (NEW!) Class Neophyte [Tier 0] Status Effects [EXCLUDED]