To his credit, Sam said nothing when Eric returned, perhaps far earlier than expected, and immediately settled in his corner of the room to meditate, then sleep.

But the boy was certainly no fool.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sam tentatively asked when Eric woke up exactly 4 hours later, feeling bright-eyed and utterly refreshed, his mind already blazing like he had two cups of coffee and an hour’s meditation, the moment he woke up.

Eric flashed a rueful smile. “The good news is that my Scholarship is now 16. I think I’m now almost as bright as my sister was, before the world went to shit. On the other hand, I paid a price I’d rather not talk about. But at least I’m more prepared than ever to accept a place studying under your master… or you.”

He gave a wincing Sam a pointed look, before softening his words with a smile. “But no worries. Now I’m off to hunt, and we can talk about whatever you like, or train in whatever you like, including saberwork or hell, just shooting the shit, as soon as I get back.”

“Sound’s good,” Sam said with a bemused smile. “And your pork chops are getting better all the time. Happy hunting!”

Eric laughed. “Thanks, Sam. See you soon.”

With that he was off once more, but not before sealing a second ward at the cave entrance, checking his gear, and proceeding toward the forest’s edge with a careful eye for trouble as the air filled with the chirps and cries of countless birds in the forest canopy overhead, his thoughts once more on what had been his focus before his Adept tier breakthrough.

After all he had sacrificed, he was more determined than ever to master that fire wand, and make it his own. Especially since he was almost positive that it would only require the tiniest fraction of his level 9 experience.

But he wouldn’t be so foolish as to not plan for the worst, filling his experience pool back to max before playing the idiot a second time.

There was such a thing as a wise fool, after all, and if he was destined to play the jester in this life, he’d so so with his eyes open, and become the best damned jester of death that he possibly could.

Or such were the thoughts floating in the back of his mind before quieting his internal dialogue to a hunter’s stillness as he crept through the woods on quiet steps, the soft squish of carefully balanced toes on topsoil easily muffled by the breeze rustling the branches overhead, Eric finding solace in the shafts of golden sunlight spearing through the thick canopy above him as he slowly approached a trio of massive spirit boar snorting and rustling through the undergrowth, majestic creatures the size of Bison back on Earth.

No doubt about it, they were definitely getting bigger.

His moment’s admiration for the majestic beasts froze to hyper focus as the largest of them immediately stiffened and squealed, cocking its head to peer between the trunks as best it could, the pair of boars beside it immediately stiffening, then mirroring the alpha’s actions.

Before suddenly freezing, catching Eric’s sent.

Tiny red eyes widened with fury as the giant boar squealed and charged through the trees, Eric forcing himself to stillness for endless moments as the forest floor shook with the sound of the giant tuskers’ charge.

And still Eric waited, arm cocked back as his heart pounded in his chest, knowing full well that to be hit dead on would imperil even his toughened frame, and to be sent flying, stunned and disoriented with broken ribs was a sure recipe for a grizzly death when the pigs would gore and trample his stunned form shortly thereafter.

Which was why he didn’t intend to be in their path, finally casting his javelin before darting around the thick trunk and summoning forth his war blade an eye-blink later as three squeels became two, one of them smashing right into the trunk Eric had darted around, and he was chilled to hear a loud crack resonate through the forest, forced to wonder just how tough these monster breeds were as the final pig darted around the trunk, Eric furiously fencing against tusk, hoof, and porcine hate as his reinforced chitin bardiche successfully deflected one lethal attack after another before Eric seized the Vor and gave as good as he got.

Showing just how deadly chitin as sharp as obsidian could be as he ducked under a vicious tusk before answering with a deadly sweeping slash that tore through hooves as easily as snapping twigs, and a furious squeel became a shriek of dismay before Eric’s blade windmilled back around in a vicious chop.

The tusker’s screeches cut off in a spray of blood, Eric cleaving with enough force to split even a massive pig’s skull, showcasing inhuman strength and speed like nothing else, before he was forced to leap straight up, barely avoiding the largest squeeling pig’s attempt to flank him from around the trunk, Eric soon losing himself in the frenzy of battle, reveling in the furious exchange of sweeps, slashes, and darting attacks, purposely drawing it out for long seconds to hone his own skills as best he could before finally going in for the kill, blasting through the back of the boar’s throat with a lunging stop-thrust before leaping back as the confused boar shivered where it stood, blood gushing out its mouth as it slowly toppled over like a log.

Then it was three more boars safely stored away, a fiercely grinning and blood-spattered Eric continuing his hunt once more.

And it wasn’t until Eric had killed another trio of pigs in similar fashion, forced to use short range tactics as the thick undergrowth made ranged attacks much tougher than at the forest’s edge that Eric was satisfied with his hunt, having already saturated his level 9 Potency several times over, the rest infusing his now almost completely saturated Upper Dantian, or System Core, as he chose to think of it, that much more. Yet he kept his senses alert and ready for trouble as he carefully made his way back to his hideout, now eager to see if he might just be using a wand before the night was out.

And what a rush that would be, he thought with a fierce smile, already smelling the scent of Samuel cooking them up some pork chops, clearly not as satisfied with Eric’s cooking as he let on.

As long as it didn’t cost him any more months or years of his life, Eric thought, and he could only hope that once he was finally able to pick a class, his days of risking so much of himself and his ever-dwindling lifespan would finally be at an end.

“How’s the stew, Eric?”

Eric smiled at a hopeful-looking Samuel, definitely on the mend as he shoveled mouthfuls of his well-peppered stew down his throat with gurgles of pleasure. He was definitely putting it away, Eric thought, but there was finally a glow of health to the kid’s dusky skin and he couldn’t deny that the boy could cook.

“Delicious. Just as good as your ribs, which, let’s be honest, are a damn sight better than mine. No wonder I have yet to get any cooking skill pop-up. Ha ha. Anyway, I’m glad you could make such good use of my would-be killers dinner spices.”

Sam laughed. “Yeah, it’s strange to think that a goblin assassin moonlighted as a chef. Talk about messed-up life choices.”

Eric nodded. “Or if he had made better choices, he’d be enjoying a great tip from me at the Blue Palace, not blinking his last after my javelin ripped open his skull,” he said with a sigh, before wincing as Sam grimaced, spitting up a bit of his stew.

“Sorry, guess that wasn’t exactly an appropriate dinner topic,” Eric said, happily leaning back in the folding chair that adjusted itself quite comfortably to his frame despite its much shorter and lighter former owners.

“That’s okay,” Sam said with an apologetic smile. “We should be able to say whatever the hell we fell like. We’re cool enough for that, you know? Hell, you saved my life. Maybe twice over. And we definitely had an intense couple of days, after all.”

“We did,” Eric said. “And I almost killed you yesterday, because I was overconfident, trusting my mad hunches as I always do, forgetting that even if trusting my impulses leads to a successful leap of faith more often than not for me, when I fail, I still risk failing spectacularly. And if other people are involved… that’s just not kosher.”

Sam’s soft brown eyes gazed intently at Eric’s for long seconds before he slowly shook his head. “No, Eric. I don’t think it was your fault at all.” He flashed a rueful smile. “Your blood sigils were nothing short of perfect. It took a while for me to accept it while you were out… doing whatever you were doing. But when I was honest with myself I was forced to accept that your spirit summoning was perfect. Hell, you managed to flood the sigils with so much potency that the damned pig exploded!” He gave a frustrated shake of his head.

“It’s my fault, Eric. It was my binding sigils on the body itself that gave out. Because who would have thought a complete novice would be able to flood their first summoning circle with that much power?” He had the grace to blush, looking so embarrassed Eric felt his guts twist in sympathy.

“You think you were overconfident? Hell, Eric, I was so sure you wouldn’t be able to channel anything but the barest whisp of power through what had been chalk sigils just minutes before...and that was after I saw how quickly you forged that blood-tattoo on your arm. A tattoo that should have only been able to hold the tiniest flicker of a spirit boar’s power!”

Eric lowered his head, feeling his own cheeks heat up. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to let the poor kid confess like this without admitting his own failings as well. “You’re not the only one who misstepped, Sam. Now that I think back on it, with a memory a fuck ton better than it was a couple days ago, you were pretty clear. One spirit boar kill. Not half a dozen. Which was exactly how much potency I had flooded that tattoo with, before injecting all of it like an idiot into the summoning circle.”

He flashed an apologetic smile. “Because I was that much of a cocky idiot, didn’t even ask if there was a way to compartmentalize the souls we claimed, so they could be stored like wand charges. Nope, I just flooded the sigils with all that potency at once, and didn’t even think twice.”

Samuel flashed an awed smile, shaking his head. “You see? That’s what I mean, Eric. Half a dozen massive spirit boars and you managed to flood that much potency or, hell, experience points, right? Into your very first Potency Binding. That’s insane, Eric. That much fucking potential? Grandfather will definitely be wanting to mentor you personally, not have his bumbling fuckup of a great great great grandson put both our lives at risk!”

Eric laughed. “No need for that, my friend. Important thing is, we both know what we did wrong, and what we need to do to make it right.” Eric sensed Sam’s sudden shift in mood, the tightness in his eyes as he adjusted the wood burning in the stove over which hung their stew pot, and quickly spoke on.

“I’ll tell you what. We’ll go about it slow and steady. You promise to show me those sigils you scribed all over the boar, and I promise to only kill a single boar for our next working. Hell, even better, if there is some way to forge a potency binding tattoo that can store multiple souls like wand charges, that would be even better. And in return? Whatever skills I have that you’d like to learn? I’ll do my best to make that happen.”

And before Sam could even blink, Eric pulled out one of the pristine wands he had purchased from the blue quarter of Freetown, Samuel’s anxious head-shake immediately freezing as his expression became one of awe. “Shit, Eric, do you know what that is?”

Eric grinned. “Top of the line Fire Wand with it’s own power crystal? Nah… what would be the odds of finding something like this out of the blue?”

Sam blinked. “Shit, Eric, how the hell did you...”

“I’m doing everything I can to unlock every skill I can so that when my Core fully saturates, I can actually pick a class that doesn’t leave me head and shoulders behind the competition you and I both know is coming to Earth,” Eric said, cheeky smile immediately transforming into a deadly seriousness.

Sam winced and shook his head. “You’re right. We have to do everything we can to unlock a decent class. But what do you mean by competition?”

Eric snorted. “You don’t think the dozen or so competing races comprised of scores of tribes that are themselves competing against each other and everyone else is the extent of it, do you?”

“Well, yeah?”

Eric sighed, shaking his head. “Trust me, you read enough post-apocalyptic LitRPG, and things start to click. Especially if your mom isn’t at all who you thought she was, and odd bits of conversations with her assistants, by which I mean devoted lackeys, suddenly start to make a terrible sort of sense.”

Sam swallowed. “Eric, what the hell are you talking about?”

Eric sighed. “I’m talking about Conquistadors claiming the New World. Just how many natives lost their lives to conquest and plague?”

Sam blanched. “Shit, Eric. I’ve heard numbers anywhere from five to fifty million. That the only reason why the Native Americans were so vulnerable to settlers and the great Western Expansion of the 19th century was because their population had been wiped out. That less than 10% of the original native population had survived what amounted to a half dozen plagues ripping through South America then what became Mexico and the US, over a couple of centuries.”

Eric nodded. “The alien races invading our world have had centuries or millennia to understand how to best use the System to their own ends. Such as earning titles and exotic class requirements, knowing exactly what steps they have to take to assure their precious children, their clan scions, have every chance in the world to get ahead. Whereas us native humans have no idea what the hell we’re doing, desperate to grab whatever class we can, just struggling to survive.”

Sam gazed at Eric for long moments before giving a frustrated shake of his head. “This. This is exactly what Grandfather Grim’s trying to prepare us for! It’s just like noobs trying to play a hyper-competitive MMORPG who don’t have any access to elite online class builds and walk-throughs on the quickest way to hit level 50 with the ideal combination of perks, magical gear, resources, and whatever else we need to master in order to get ahead.”

Eric grinned. “Yup, your Grandfather has an awesome sense of what we as a race need to focus on, which is kind of strange, since I think we both know he grew up way before the era of MMORPGs or even D&D.”

Samuel gazed at Eric for long moments, before cracking a grin. “I still can’t believe you saw right through grandfather’s glamour so quickly. In all of Freetown, only the most learned of necromancers even suspect, though both are gracious enough to say absolutely nothing aloud. And the Guildheads are clueless, of course.” He tilted his head curiously. “And you’re really not at all wierded out?”

Eric laughed at that. “Are you kidding? If there was ever a case of proving with actions over words, then he’s it. Because what could possibly validate the necromantic path, the path of blood magic, more than to find that my friends’ beloved mentor represents the epitome of what every fantasy necromancer hopes to achieve? And he’s clearly no bad guy. He seems j ust as sane and stable as anyone else, served by people who willingly follow him, and living relatives he clearly cares for.”

Eric held the young man’s relieved gaze for long moments. “Besides, I’m hardly one to talk with elven blood in my veins and a fanatically obsessed mother using my sister as her puppet for world domination, right?”

Sam gazed at Eric for long moments before dipping his head. “Shit, yeah. Talk about your unusual background perks.”

Eric grinned. “Definitely been a mixed blessing. But the point is that it’s on us to do everything we can to unlock whatever skills we can so that we can make the best choice forward in forging our own classes.”

“And that’s why you brought that elite looking wand.”

Eric grinned. “Damn right. Now I just have to figure out how to use it.”

Sam blinked, before bursting out in laughter. “Eric, are you serious? That thing must have cost how many credits?”

“Well over half a million,” Eric said, flashing a hard smile at Sam’s bulging eyes.