Eric opened his eyes and stared at the new window that had appeared. It vanished just as quickly, and he glanced around. Combat? What the hell did that mean? There were no enemies in sight, no matter where he looked. Scrambling to his feet, he turned to face the forest, slowly backing away as quietly as he could. The situation reminded him a bit of Skyrim, what with the hidden enemy and inability to rest.

Belatedly, he thought to draw the sword again. He also tried to equip the shield, but the movement was too awkward, so he gave it up. He kept peering into the trees as he held his sword at the ready, not sure where the enemy was or when it would appear. There was no sign of movement among the trees. He took another step back.

A heavy blow struck him across the shoulders suddenly. The shield stopped some of it, but not enough to prevent pain. Eric staggered forward, letting out a shout of pain, then whirled around to face the direction of the attack. A broad-shouldered man, perhaps half a head shorter than him, was lifting a big club, prepared to strike again. Faster than he could think, Eric’s instincts took over, and he stabbed out with the point of the sword. To his surprise, it hit, scoring a long wound on his attacker’s ribs.

The bandit jumped back at the pain of the wound, letting out a loud curse. His eyes were crazed as Eric took the time to notice details about him. His clothes were ragged, almost hanging from his thin frame due to hunger. In other situations, Eric would have been sympathetic to his desperation, even pitiful. He’d want to do what he could to help. But you don’t smack someone in the back with a big chunk of wood and expect kindness in return.

The bandit swung the club down again, and time seemed to slow to a crawl. Eric tried to jump to the side to avoid it, but the wooden weapon slammed down onto his left shoulder before he could completely avoid it. He was nearly knocked to his knees by the force, but rallied quickly, ignoring the pain of the injury. It almost hurt too much. If this was a video game, even a dream video game, should damage really hurt that much?

The edges of his vision were red and pulsing slightly as he went on the attack. That probably meant that he was at low health, he thought, or even at one hit point exactly. Either way, he knew that if he was hit again, he’d die. And this may be a dream, but he was competitive. He wanted to win. His sword swung down just like the club had, and he had the satisfaction of cutting a long gash down the man’s chest. He’d say they were about even.

The club came back, this time from the side, and yet again, time seemed to slow down, as if the system behind all this was taking time for some hidden event to take place. But this time, Eric’s reflexes were a little faster, and he managed to raise his sword to block in time. The impact of weapon on weapon staggered him a little, but he hadn’t taken any damage. Grinning, he shoved the man back and delivered a side attack of his own.

The bandit threw up his club to block the attack, but he was too slow. Eric’s sword buried itself in the man’s side, and he gave out a weak cry of pain. Eric withdrew his weapon and raised it defensively, but the bandit was already falling limp and lifeless to the ground. A solid three seconds of silence passed before he heard a faint ding, and allowed himself to relax.

[XP Gained]

Progress to Next Level: 120/215

You have unused attribute points. Would you like to spend them?

“Might as well,” Eric muttered weakly, sitting down at the altar again. A new window popped up, showing his six main stats. He had progressed to level 3, and had six points to spend. So two points per level, he thought. Simple enough. He split them evenly between Strength and Constitution, raising each to 14. A window appeared asking him to confirm, which he did. With another ding, his Combat Information window appeared, showing his new stats.

[Combat Information]

Level: 3 (120/215 XP to next level)

Hit Points: 1/4 (3 Base, 0 Level, 1 Constitution)

Attack: 18 (14 Strength, 4 Half Dexterity)

Defense: 18 (14 Constitution, 4 Half Dexterity)

Stat

Race

Class

Assigned

Gear

Misc

Total

Strength

3

8

3

0

0

14

Dexterity

3

5

0

0

0

8

Constitution

3

8

3

0

0

14

Magic

3

2

0

0

0

5

Intelligence

3

2

0

0

0

5

He felt a strange cooling sensation on his back and jumped to his feet. The sensation ended the instant he did, but he noticed that the lines in the stone altar were glowing slightly. It didn’t seem to hurt him, so, curious, he sat back down. The cooling sensation began again. It felt quite pleasant, actually. He could feel the exhaustion of his last fight taking hold of him. He tried to fight it, to keep his eyes open, but he couldn’t help it. His head came to rest against the stone, and he fell asleep.

[Long Rest Complete]

You have been fully healed, and your status has been refreshed.

“Hello!”

A hand was on his shoulder, and he was shaken awake. Opening his eyes and blinking rapidly, he saw a head with brown hair and hazel eyes standing over him. It was a young woman, and her face was full of concern. She stopped shaking him now that he was awake, and stood up straight. She was wearing a simple dress of some green fabric and carrying a wicker basket in one arm. Behind her was a horse, a tall brown creature that was staring at him in bored curiosity.

“Are you okay?” She asked. “It’s not safe to sleep by the road, you know. There are bandits in the woods here.”

Eric groaned as he sat upright. He might have been healed and refreshed, but his backside ached from the long contact with the stone altar. Putting one hand on the strange item, he pushed himself to his feet, knocking aside the sword that had been resting on his lap, still coated with the bandit’s blood.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he said. “One of them attacked me. I just sat here to rest for a bit.”

She seemed surprised as he stood up, her eyes fixed on the sword as it clanged against the stone. She didn’t seem to notice it before, but now she took a step back, dropping the basket she was holding. She was clearly on guard, as if she expected him to run at her and attack. He immediately put his hands up in a sign of peace, trying to put a comforting smile on.

“I’m not a threat,” he assured her. “I’m just an outsider in these lands.”

She half-glared at him for a few more seconds, then seemed to accept what he said. She stooped to collect the basket once more, then brushed a strand of hair out of her face. He couldn’t see what was in the basket clearly. It looked like bundles of herbs, he thought.

“I see,” she said. Her voice was smooth and melodic, like a flute. “Do you need healing?”

“No,” Eric said quickly. “I-, I’m fine, thanks.”

It had only just struck him how pretty she was. It was a simple, basic kind of pretty, the kind that required no makeup or cosmetic surgery to fix. She noted his obvious embarrassment, and smiled slightly. As she did, the face went from pretty to beautiful. He felt blood rush to his cheeks and hoped that his character wasn’t blushing. Her smile widened, and a mischievous look entered her eyes, proving that his cheeks were red after all.

“Well, you seem to be in fine spirits,” she said with a little chuckle. “But you should really head into town before it gets much darker. The druids of Grimr patrol the woods, but they can’t stop every threat.”

“Okay,” he said, at a loss for words. “I’ll do that, thanks. Err, which way is the town?”

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise and raised one arm to point away from the forest. “Milagre is that way, about half an hour’s ride. Would probably be two hours on foot, as you are…”

Her voice trailed off thoughtfully, and she looked at his feet. He looked down as well, just then noticing that they were completely bare. He didn’t know how he’d missed that before now. He looked up to see her staring at her horse, considering for a moment. Then, with a little nod to herself, she walked over to the mount. She transferred the herbs in her basket to a pouch slung on the horse’s saddlebow, and lightly hopped on its back.

“Come on then,” she said lightly. “You can ride with me. I’ll take you to the tavern, and you can get a proper night’s rest there.”

Eric hesitated for a moment. What if she was an evil character, and this was some kind of trap? He pushed the thought aside. If she’d wanted to hurt him, she could have attacked while he was sleeping. He bent down to snatch up his sword and sheath it, then moved to the horse’s side. He’d never ridden one before, but he had an idea of what to do. Putting one foot in the stirrup she’d left clear for him, he pushed with his other leg and jumped easily into the saddle behind her.

Her hair smelled great, he thought. Then he shook his head. Focus on what’s important, he told himself sternly. She turned slightly to study him, making sure he was settled properly. Then she flicked the reins lightly, and the horse started walking forward.

“Hold on now,” she said, flicking the reins again to bring the horse to a gallop. “Off to Milagre we go!”