Not nearly as close as the previous wolf was, Cain had a few moments to prepare himself for another fight for his life. It would be optimistic to think that the wolf was just passing by, and optimism was currently in short supply. Having moved ever closer, Cain could finally make out some details of the wolf, unwilling to inspect the first one, and what he saw...confused him. It was limping towards him, not due to a wounded leg, but because of a missing one. Mangy and covered in what looked like mud, the wolf did not cut an imposing figure at all.

And as suddenly as the first one, the animal pounced at him with all the speed its three limbs allowed, but Cain was expecting it and pivoted out of the way. Unable to support its weight once it landed, the wolf’s legs buckled and it fell to the ground. Taking the opportunity, he slammed the wrench down onto it’s head in a familiar crack, but didn’t swing any more.

The fight was shorter, but no less heart pounding than the first. Cain had to wonder what he had done to deserve having to use bottles and wrenches to kill living things out for his life, but as expected there was nobody around to answer him. The book that he was suddenly gripping in his free hand apparently wanted to have a say though. It was a strange feeling, one instant having a hand gripping nothing, and the next holding something. As if he picked it up from somewhere, but did it without realizing.

Putting the wrench in the pocket of his jeans for now, still refusing to react openly to whatever was going on, he saw the only change was Origin had gone back up to 11. The rest of the pages remained blank, and poking them didn’t make anything appear in place. Turning back to the first page, directly attached to the cover, he once more thumbed over the word Edge and once more saw the impossible happen.

Origin - 9

Edge - 3 (0/3)

Cain closed the book gently, confused so far at many things, and understanding none of it. He wound his arm back and threw the Numeral as far as he could, but saw it disappear as soon as it left his hand. There was a pattern to what was going on, but he hadn’t the will or the patience to try and decipher it right now. He was stuck in the middle of the interstate with a wounded man in his backseat and dead wolves next to his car. And most worryingly, not a single car had passed by the entire time. With no immediate solution obvious for any of his current problems, Cain had to think about his next step. But thinking led to remembering, and that was something he was trying not to do at the moment. Multiple growls emanating from all around him served to assist with that.

It wasn’t a new or unfamiliar feeling to experience fear, sometimes a job got sketchy on the construction grounds, sometimes one of the new guys didn’t pay enough attention to Frank’s lectures and got one of their bones broken. This was all fleeting fear at the thought of their problem also becoming Cain’s. It never lasted more than a second once he realized no collapsing building or machine was going to crush him into paste. The fear he was experiencing now was more instinctual, settling down into his blood and bones. It was the kind of fear that screamed for action, whether it be facing the cause head on, or running away from it.

Breathing heavily, he pulled the wrench out of his pocket and eyed his car. He was only a few steps away, he could make it. Bursting into motion he sprinted for the car, narrowly avoiding a snap at his heels from the first wolf. The second got a solid grip on his right calf with all the jaw strength of a predatory animal, bringing him tumbling to the ground. In a shout of both pain, fear, and desperation, he twisted around and drove the wrench at the head of the wolf mauling his leg.

He missed.

The metal struck neck and ripped the wolf off of Cain, taking some of his leg and jeans with it. Half-crawling, half-running he once more dashed for his car and managed to collapse inside, closing the door behind him. The wolves began scratching at the car doors, but Cain’s mind hardly registered that over the excruciating pain of having a meaty portion of his leg bitten off. Taking the entirety of what remained of his flannel off, he poured what was left of his hydrogen peroxide on top of the injury, moaning in pain. Wrapping his leg up, he noticed that the scratching had stopped and the only sound he could hear was his own breath and heart pumping.

The windows didn’t provide enough sight to check all around the car, but Cain knew the wolves were still out there, biding their time. Able to calm down for whatever time he had, Cain remembered a single odd thing about the short escape to the car, being that he practically batted a large animal off of him despite it having a hold on his leg. Along with the ease with which he picked up the man, he reached an unsettling conclusion. That he became stronger with no apparent cause, but there was a cause that was less apparent which came to mind.

“Uh, book?” Cain asked out loud, and he found himself grabbing a hold of the black leather book anew. The only page with an entry had remained the exact same as when he last saw it. It made no sense, there was barely any evidence at all, but the only explanation he could reach for his increased strength was this Edge increasing. He couldn’t care less about the bizarre events of the night, only that his life was in danger.

Never being one for any form of education, least of all anything related to mathematics, Cain only had a partial understanding of what the Elements meant. If Edge indicated something jagged and sharp, then Arc would probably mean something curved and smooth. Maybe. Perhaps curved and flexible? A book Cain doubted even existed was filled with terms he had no capability to even begin to understand, and yet it was currently his only hope for getting through the night. Taking a risk, he thumbed over Arc and watched as his Origin dropped down to 3.

Origin - 3

Arc - 4 (0/5)

He didn’t have enough to get 5 Arc, but it would have to be close enough. As satisfied as one could get in his position, Cain closed the book and tossed it into the air, slightly enjoying the sight of something vanishing from a spot it was just occupying. Taking a deep breath, Cain readied himself for what was to come next. With a tight grip on his so far trusty wrench, he pushed the car door open and took a tentative step outside. There wasn’t anything he could see to his left, and the car door blocked his right, which only left the…

Jolting backwards, Cain dodged the pounce of the wolf hiding on the top of the car. He then pushed forward and hit the wolf’s skull with the butt of his wrench, hearing the telltale crack of the bone breaking. He spun around in time to see the second wolf jump at him, but was too late to bring the wrench around. It closed its maw on his other arm, but the expected feeling of pain didn’t come. It’s teeth couldn’t find purchase on his skin, sliding off as he was watching. Wheeling his arm in an overhead motion, Cain threw the wolf onto the ground with a sickening crunch.

He could barely believe it. His hunch had worked. The whole notion threatened to make him lose whatever meagre grasp on sanity he had left. But the strange book titled Numeral had clearly just saved his life. Some obscure concepts such as Arc and Edge allowed him to kill one of the top hunters in any continent with almost the same ease as squashing a bug.

Did he die in a crash while trying to stop his car earlier? Was he in a coma and this entire thing was a dream? Were all of the things he had done up until now just a figment of his imagination created by his brain in a desperate attempt to try and explain the unexplainable?

Cain blew out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Being forced to confront that the illogical and irrational currently made more sense than the normal did not lead to positive thinking or a healthy mental state. Nothing made sense, and there was everything to think about.

But distracting him from his own thoughts was the smell. A foul stench had begun wafting into his nose, and with four corpses which had started to decompose next to him, it made sense that they would start to rot. Although the speed at which they did was strange. Cain remembered hearing somewhere that it took days for a dead body to start smelling, but it took these wolves minutes.

Rejecting all that was strange for a moment and holding onto the sense that dead things smelled, Cain was able to focus his attention outwards instead of inwards. It wouldn’t be pleasant or possibly safe to loiter around corpses so he began to make some preparations. Each step he took with his leg sent jolts of pain through his body, but he was able to endure for now. He had to endure.

With the dark having fully set in now, the chill of the night was also beginning to make its presence known. Cain threw on a new flannel and leather jacket, wincing as he pulled the sleeve over his bitten arm. He took a couple extra wrenches out of the bed of the man’s truck, noting the rest of the items in the back: tubes, tape, and plungers; He was probably heading home after repairing someone’s sink.

The only other items in either of their cars were some discarded wrappers and clothes. No water, no food, and no real weapons. With a slight amount of effort and awkwardness, Cain hauled the man, whose name was Joe according to his nametag, onto his back in a fireman’s carry and took a steady gait towards the nearby treeline. Staying out in the middle of the interstate made them too much of a target, and he was not feeling up to the task of any more killing.

The dirt shoulder of the road soon gave way to the underbrush of needles and pine cones, and Cain set Joe down against a tree. He was planning on walking back the way he came to a small town a few miles back, where hopefully he could get some help. But he didn’t know how long he could go with the hole in the side of his calf. It had stopped bleeding, which was a miracle considering how large the wound was, but Cain didn’t want to unwrap the flannel to look at the state of his leg. He’d rather deal with that when he had to, not a second before.

Once again hauling Joe, Cain began to make his way West towards the town, following the interstate within the tree line. It only took a few grunting filled minutes for him to have to put down his human baggage and slump against a tree as well. Being moderately stronger didn’t prepare him for hiking through the underbrush of a forest in the middle of the dark. He could see well enough to avoid any dips in the ground, but couldn’t tell if there would be a stray root waiting underneath some leaves to trip him up. Joe didn’t deserve to not only be lugged around against his will, but be dropped as well.

However there was nothing in the cars to allow him to make some kind of temporary stretcher for Joe. Cain didn’t think a single person could carry a stretcher anyway, but perhaps a wheelbarrow? The slight musing helped calm him, but still didn’t offer any alternative for Cain’s predicament. He reached over and lightly slapped Joe's face, but got no reaction. The man was out of it.

Unwilling to force himself to drag the man any further, but unwilling to leave him here, Cain resigned himself to waiting for him to either wake up or for dawn to break. Getting as comfortable as one could get sitting against a tree, pine of all things, Cain tried to keep his eyes open, staying aware of any possible danger, but the lure of sleep coupled with the longest period of safety yet invited his eyelids to droop closed and for him to fall into sleep’s welcoming embrace.

~~~

Yelps of pain rudely awoke Cain from his slumber, and he stood up, wrench in hand, ready for anything. But there wasn’t anything to be ready for. The noise sounded like it was coming from deeper inside the forest and wasn’t coming any closer. A bestial ROAR resounded throughout the trees, and Cain recognized the noise as coming from a bear. Enough nature documentaries in the rest area at work did that to a person.

A fight between nature and itself wasn’t anything to worry about, and Cain relaxed fractionally. A glance at Joe saw the man was still not awake, and that it was still the middle of the night. Cain had no idea how much time had passed, and only then remembered that his phone was in his pocket. The rapidly occurring events of danger and disarray made him forget he was a phone call away from help.

The phone was dead.

As crappy as it was, he hoped his decade old phone would come to the rescue for once in its miserable life, but reality chose the wrong time to insert itself into his night. There wasn’t even enough power in it for the display to warn him its battery was gone. Another mystery to solve since it was working fine at full battery just hours ago.

Thankfully, a groan from Joe prevented Cain from losing himself to the uncertainty he felt for the near future. The man opened his eyes and took a few seconds to focus on Cain and as his brows furrowed together, Cain prepared to answer any questions he might have had with the little information he had.

“Is that my wrench?”