Having paused only long enough to claim the beast’s remains and what he sensed was a core radiating fearsomely potent spiritual energy, Eric was hit with a fresh wave of anxiety with each furious squeal he heard in the distance as he raced back to the shelter for all he was worth.

He could only hope that the frustrated squeals were because the boy had been smart enough to reestablish the ward without waiting for him. Even if it cost them potency that the boy didn’t have to spare… potions and Eric’s own potential would make up the difference, or so he hoped. Far better that than the loss of an innocent life that he had come to save, and all because he was desperate to get water, thanks to psychopathic pigs actually radiating killing intent.

Like the swarm suddenly looking his way as he raced down the mountain path and crossed the bend, glaring down at a full dozen… the closest trees a good hundred yards away.

The beasts didn’t hesitate. They charged in one tightly packed mass.

Which suited a furious Eric just fine, now hating these vindictive beasts just as much as he did the orcs. He quickly hurled one javelin after another, embracing the hot surge of potency and sweet satisfaction when the charging beasts ended up jamming their own sources of impalement into the ground as they raced forward and windmilled right over them, turning deep penetrating slow bleeders into ripping gushers of a wound as they stumbled and collapsed, other tightly packed pigs tumbling right over the fallen, and suddenly it was just nine pigs shaking themselves free of a heap as Eric roared like the predator he was before he blitzed right passed them, marking only a single passing beast who gave an agonized squeal as Eric sprinted right by.

He didn’t even dare to acknowledge an open-mouthed Samuel a short distance away who was gazing at him with awed disbelief. All he could do was sprint all-out for the treeline, putting his Husane Bolt speed to the ultimate test, pushing his newly enhanced body as hard as he could as a doable 50 miles per hour became 70 and beyond, before he sprung for the branches of the nearest tree.

Just as one massive beast after another slammed into the trunk below.

A sharp retort Eric answered with fierce laughter to hide his sharp spike of alarm —just how fast were these fuckers?— before the air rang with the slow drawn out creak of tinder strained to the breaking point before rupturing with a rapid series of bursts that stretched out in one discordant roar before an explosion of dirt as it crashed to the ground.

You have saved versus Terror. Finesse check (easily) made!

But by then Eric had already sprung to another tree.

And nie malevolent spirit beast warthogs that had struck the poor fallen peach tree like freight trains were now squealing and tearing at wood and bark. Clever, but not so clever as to instantly turn around, back up a few hundred yards, and slam their skulls into unyielding wood once more. Or, for all Eric knew, they had actually suffered for their feat.

Either way, there would be a price to pay, Eric thought, as a furious act of will and three rapidly cast javelins exploded into the spines of three massive warthogs, dropping them instantly as spines were severed at the base of their skulls.

He felt his lips stretch in a grin of savage glee, reveling in the sweet rush of growing mastery over his weapon, and a Finesse score that was now triple a gold medal Olympian’s, meant that the weapon was now an extension of himself, when plunging his javelins down into the swarm of furiously goring tuskers just 30 feet below him. It was as if his fingers were caressing the squealing eyes and mouths of the six remaining warthogs as easily as he could dot an eye on a crimson canvas with an extra long brush. Sometimes he missed his mark by a fraction of an inch, but it didn’t stop his targets from collapsing in spasms or stone cold death, the forest floor now splattered in brilliant shades of crimson, the peach scented air now rich with the stench of ruptured offal.

One javelin after another he resummoned and plunged into the frenzied mass of boars below.

Until six spirit boar became three, then two, and a final retreating boar became one.

Then none at all, after Eric roared for all he was worth, infusing his voice with the power of Dominion itself.

“Kneel!” he roared, feeling too much of himself explode out of his frame as his final foe crashed to a stop, such that Eric was trembling with sudden weakness almost great as the warthog that had been forced to submit utterly to his will, fury alone allowing him to propel three less than perfect casts, wounding but not outright killing the final spirit beast before he slipped down off his perch, snarled at his foe only now struggling to right itself, its beady little eyes wild with terror as a final sweep of Eric’s bardiche finished the creature off for good.

Javelin Throwing is now Rank 9!

You have attempted to use Dominion’s Command on a powerful Spirit Beast at triple baseline cost! (Soul Reserves have not finished recuperating from earlier encounter.)

You have fully depleted your available Soul Reserves! (Soul Reserves used to anchor Soul-Linked artifacts is not available.)

You are suffering the effects of Temporary Soul Depletion! You have failed to save versus symptomatic display. (Shakes)

You have successfully defeated 12 Boar Spirit Beasts!

Dominion’s Command is now Rank 5!

Eric took a deep, shuddering breath, pausing only long enough to store the carcasses in his ES Space, promising himself that he would absolutely take it easy, knowing he could now only store a limited amount of non magical gear or elements with strong arcane or essence affinities. Yet he found storing the boars caused him no strain at all, even when three became six, which soon became every last one of them, and the boy he had come to rescue was gazing at him from his warded cave entrance with an odd mixture of awe and panic.

“Eric, you have to get up here now!”

But Eric already knew he was cutting it close, hearing the distant thundering squeals of far more than a dozen spirit boar charging their way.

To his credit, Grim’s descendant only wasted a moment taking in Eric’s absurdly high speed, quickly belting out a chant Eric could feel pulsating in crimson waves through the air, eyes widening at the sight of Benjamin growing pale, clearly losing blood he could ill afford as he collapsed in a heap… the crimson ward popping up just in time to deter a full score of furious-looking boar.

“That was too close,” the boy whispered, eyes rolling in the back of his head as he collapsed.

Eric suppressed the cold jolt of dread he felt, quickly lying the boy down and taking a good look at his injuries. He was relieved to see that the boy’s fever had gone down and, indeed, Samuel looked like he had taken a few steps back from Death’s precipice.

But even with no more than first aid training, Eric wasn’t blind. It was clear the potion might have reinvigorated the boy, but it had only kept the gangrene infection in check, not treated it entirely. A fact which Rank 2 Healer’s Aid combined with Find Weakness and Infravision made painfully clear.

Eric took a deep, steadying breath, doing his best to ignore the porcine squeals from beyond Samuel’s blood ward, promising himself he’d move them both into the cave and plug up the entrance in the best way he knew how if needed. But for now, his focus was entirely on his patient that he carefully stripped down and washed, taking meticulous note of the boy’s injuries as he waited for at least a portion of his Soul Reserves to refill, far less than he’d like, before placing his hands on the puss-ridden wound, doing his best to sense the flow of tainted blood.

Before claiming it as his own.

Then whispering fierce words that could compel a willing mortal’s flesh to obey far easier than a wild spirit beast. Even if he had to be magnitudes more delicate to nurture and heal, when just minutes before he had used his gifts to subjugate and destroy.

You have successfully claimed 1 pint of Severely Tainted Blood!

You have elected NOT to claim Mildly Tainted Blood, or blood currently beating in the heart!

Your patient successfully saves versus death! (Saving throw boosted by healing potion dribbled down subjects throat).

Congratulations! You have achieved Rank 21 in Adept Blood Mastery!

You have achieved Rank 6 in Dominion’s Command as you exercise exquisite precision just minutes after an act of furious control, striving to master all elements of a skill tied to your deepest affinities!

You have used alcohol and the Essence of Flame to cauterize and cleanse Suppurating Wounds.

Healing Skill check made. Healer’s Aid is now Rank 3!

Congratulations! You have discovered the Healer’s Path! Let the System guide you! Trust your intuition and System-enhanced insights to treat the most basic injuries without killing your patients outright! (Further study in the fields of first aid, surgery, medicine, and arcane healing is strongly recommended. You are now able to learn healing magics, with the appropriate tutors and affinities).

Eric gazed down at his fragile charge, now sleeping in his arms, heart swelling as if he were holding a sick younger sibling in desperate need of care. Much as he had once held his half-delirious sister, shaking with withdrawal and regret, doing all he could to reassure and comfort her as her mother screamed and condemned, Eric desperate to help Elonia weather the storm of their crazy life, regretting that he hadn’t seen the signs before.

Eric turned to glare at the snorting, squealing warthogs, lined up with killing intent at the periphery of Samuel’s barrier. Because there were no confusing shades of grey here. No measuring how much you blamed the victim who fell to opioid’s caress, clueless friends and coworkers who had led one down a poppy and primrose path, and the smirking manipulator savoring the pain of fallen souls, several clever steps removed.

These were just bull-sized monsters radiating so much killing intent that they were actually overwhelming Samuel’s barrier.

“Fucking hell.”

Eric felt a sudden cold jolt of dread, taking a quick drink from his flask while he could. His muscles trembled with the rush of imminent peril as a full score beast glared his way with killing intent.

But his Soul Reserves were still near depleted. His only saving grace was that, as delicate as the procedure had been, using Healer’s Aid in conjunction with Dominion’s Command being both delicate work and mentally exhausting, at least he had had at the grit and reserves to do what needed to be done

No infusing his javelins with superheated flame.

Not now.

And with a comatose boy in his arms and a score of beasts about to go on a killing rampage… he was running out of time.

He quickly darted deeper into the cave, pretending it didn’t bother him, being out of sight of the entrance, and deposited his young friend back within his surprisingly spacious cavern after scrubbing away the sticky film of wast and blood with rum-covered rags, taking care of the awful stench no recovering person should have to endure in just a handful of seconds he really shouldn’t have wasted.

Then, wasting not another second, he raced back to the entrance, glaring at the massive boars only seconds from breaking through the barrier just beyond Sam’s claimed front yard, giving them all the finger as he carefully blocked the tunnel entrance with ten massive boar cadavers using his 4-D dumbell-shaped plug trick. But only after he had made careful note of several natural air shafts and leaving both tubs of water for his young friend, on the extremely likely chance Eric didn’t survive what was to come.

Because he was leaving himself on the outside of the cave.

With only seconds before his young charge’s ward finally collapsed.

Then, just as he felt the growing pressure like a tension headache, he quickly clambered up the steep cavern face as fast as he could, struck with the sudden inspiration to carve handholds into the stone as well as extra perches for his feet with the blade he had claimed from the assassins that had nearly killed him. He smirked as he used every last Finesse point at his disposal, despite his hammering heart and the squeals of death from below, to use what was effectively a short sword of sharpness as a pottery knife.

And for all that he could imagine the smirk of a malicious DM, the blade did not turn in his hand and knick his arteries. It cut through the stone like Eric would cut through clay, and perhaps it was only his inhumanly high stats that allowed him to hold the blade so precisely when squealing death finally broke through.

By the time his Dagger - Rank 3 skill had morphed into Small Blades - Rank 4, Eric’s heart was pounding, all too well aware that even a basic skill evolution and increase like that would have only come about if he had been in serious peril, the potency and infinite potential he had claimed, in a sense, being his own.

“Fuck!” he hissed. Or hell, maybe it had just been the practice of plunging his knife into stone and cleaving out careful wedges with a gladius-sized blade. Yeah. That was it. No doubt that would translate quite well to a sure grip with disemboweling blows.

Nonetheless, by the time the wavering blood barrier ruptured and the small clearing was trampled by a flood of berserking spirit beasts, Eric had multiple secure grips and a beautiful foot ledge that left him comfortable and able to commit almost the entirety of his Strength in casting blows he’d make damn sure his enemies never forgot, his too-deadly short sword of sharpness safely stored away once more.

Even as they swarmed forward with frenzied squeals, desperate to tear through the bodies clogging the cavern entrance and tear into the vulnerable human at death’s door within.

“Not on my watch, motherfuckers!”

Words and a flash of Dominion’s essence that shuddered through the whole pack. Instantly earning their undivided killing hate, as desperate beasts struggled to scale the granite cliff face, eager make Eric pay for daring to glare at them as if he were there equal.

And much to Eric’s horror, one daring swine was scurrying up the stone face like a goat.

Earning furious squeals of savage glee from its packmates.

Before a snarling Eric showed these monsters what happened when the prey wasn’t a helpless dying child.

A manic squeal was cut off with surprised oinks when a javelin blasted completely through the lead pig’s skull, no matter that the beast was the size of a bull, Eric’s Infravision finding their weakest points as instinctively as he could launch the javelins into the squealing bodies of his foes.

Followed by another, and another.

A killing rain of death unleashed as fury, madness, and a brother’s protective instincts morphed into a berserker’s frenzy as the screaming, squealing mass of hogs attempting to force their way into the blocked tunnel crashed down in pools of quivering flesh, the hollow pop of cracked skulls barely heard over the din.

Yet as desperately as they struggled to enter the cave, each fallen boar served only to plug of the cavern entrance that much more, Eric’s killing frenzy turning to ice cold focus only when the pile of porcine bodies had become so high that the spirit beasts were able to clamber over their fallen brethren and charge Eric directly.

You have been struck by Berserking Warthog! Armor and Vitality-based damage reduction in effect!

You have taken 1 Medium Wound!

You have saved versus catastrophic organ rupture!

Quickness Check failed!

Eric grunted in pain when one of his foes managed to gore him, requiring Eric to ignore a cracked rib and make a desperate save for one of his backup hand holds only to slip, before tumbling into the massive pile of swine corpses they were now all lumbering over.

Finesse Check made!

Of course the remaining boards happily spun about to gore him, only to collapse in gushers of hot steaming blood as skulls were cleaved completely in half by fearsome swings of Eric’s bardiche, even if he was spitting up blood from cracked hip, ribs, and bruised organs, masking his pain with howling roars as he pounded massive warthogs that could charge no longer, only lumber over the fallen bodies of their brethren, far less nimbly than their executioner, before joining them in death, Eric snarling and cleaving into their writhing bodies like a butcher savagely hacking into carcasses, washed in blood and fury.

Until the air was struck by silence so sudden that Eric’s ears rang with phantom squeals and odd ringing pain… hearing nothing else save his own ragged breaths, collapsing to his knees upon the massive stacked pile of warthog corpses.

For long moments, he just panted for breath, never having felt so drained in his life, unable to believe that it was actually over.

A berserker’s high turned to a sudden sense of dread.

Realizing his sudden vulnerability, lying prone upon a mound of porcine flesh, feeling too exhausted to lift what had moments before been a weightless instrument of death… and now his exquisitely sensitive hearing was picking up a young voice desperately crying out for help from behind a mountain of flesh.

It was all he could do to force himself upright. But he managed, panning his gaze over the trees rustling with an impossibly glorious bounty of fiery spiritual energy. Although Infravision was instantly overwhelmed, his normal senses sensed no trace of pig, anywhere at all.

Just the surprising sense that he was near the halfway point of an unexpected title that tasted of prickly power. A realization that forced a smile upon his drained and exhausted features, wondering how many times he had been forced to fight for his life since the last time he had gotten a good night’s sleep.

Too fucking many.

You continue to blossom in the crucible of battle! The steeper the odds stacked against you, the sweeter the boons you gain!

Adept Bardiche is now Rank 22!

Javelin Throwing is now Rank 10!

You have achieve Journeyman status in javelin throwing! Strength has increased by 1 point. Finesse has increased by 2 points as you become one with the ancient hunters that define half your genetic heritage!

You have successfully deferred Perk Selection!