The shaggy coats of pine trees brushed past us as we moved, trailing their fingers through our hair and seeking to snare us. The bed of fine needles covering the path beneath us was spongy and forgiving, and the redolent scent of sap soothed my soul. Something about trees had always helped settle me, and it was nice to see the effect still remained even in such extreme circumstances.

"So, what the hell was all that?" I demanded of Jorge as we climbed.

He turned back to give me a curious look, before understanding bloomed across his face. "Oh, the system? Aye, guess that would be a shock to you."

He turned back to the path ahead and continued the climb as he spoke. "The essence of it is that an unknown amount of time ago, the gods got together and created a system to govern our world. The going theory is that it's a way to raise strong warriors to join them in some heavenly battle in the firmament, though others believe it was to create a more equitable and just world."

He snorted to himself, though at which theory I couldn't know. Perhaps both. "I'll leave aside the commentary on that front and just say; every adult has a status, gains Skills and attributes and generally grows stronger through levelling."

By now, my breath was beginning to come in short, sharp gasps as we hiked up the steep track. It was nothing I'd not done before – spending time in the mountains was a favourite past-time of mine – but that didn't stop it from being tiring, all the same. No amount of fitness made steep climbs easy.

Strangely though, I heard no heavy breathing from ahead. Jorge was able to talk as if out for a stroll on flatland, and I couldn't hear any heavy thudding of boots on rock from the other two either, though how one could stay light on their feet in such terrain was beyond me.

"What's your endurance?" Jorge asked.

The question took me by surprise, busy as I was trying to fit the new knowledge into my existing framework of how the world worked. It wasn't going well, and many of my foundational beliefs about the nature of reality were busy protesting their new neighbour.

"Nine," I replied after a moment to check again. I had to hand it to the ancient gods that had created it; this system was intuitive at least.

Jorge whistled in response. "That's high for level 1. Good. You'll need it for the next few hours. Or days. Gods, lad, you're in for a ringer, sure as sure."

His words held a troubling implication, but there were already a million questions buzzing around my brain, and it was hard to figure out which took precedence. I couldn't process it all, couldn't think of what I wanted answered first. I kept turning over my recent memories, trying to pinpoint the last thing I remembered, but it was like staggering through a fog-drenched forest with no compass or map.

It was… hazy. I still knew who I was, had a biographical narrative of my life up to this point, knew my name, my family, my friends and my loves and hates and everything in between that made me, well me. But it felt disconnected somehow, and every attempt I made to focus on those memories was like dipping my hand into a pond and trying to hold the water; I could view them, experience the richness of that life for a few seconds but inevitably the sensations and feelings slipped through the gaps in my mind and I returned to the present.

I caught my foot on a stray rock for what must have been the fiftieth time during our short hike, shooting my leading leg out to catch my balance and continuing on without breaking stride. My spiralling thoughts were interrupted by a ringing inside my head, demanding my attention.

Skill gained – Sure-Footed. Open skill slots available, skill integrated.

The mere act of questioning what this meant encouraged a torrent of new information to present itself to me.

Current skills:

Sure-footed: Level 1. Passive.

Open skill slot

Open skill slot

Open skill slot

Open skill slot

Open skill slot

Open skill slot

Open skill slot

I focused on the new Skill, and the knowledge appeared within me, etched into my soul.

Sure-Footed – Passive. You have a strong sense of balance when moving, able to keep your centre of gravity stable and keep to your feet over rough terrain without thought. Further levels improve upon this unconscious feel for your body and can guide your steps instinctively.

Instantly, I gained confidence as I strode, finding more advantageous footing. It was only a mild increase – I had always been good on my feet from a childhood spent playing in the hills – but now that I was laser focused in on my footwork, I could feel the difference this skill granted. I tried to examine exactly how the Skill was influencing me, but I couldn't distinguish between the instincts granted by the Skill compared to those earned by my own experience.

As I was mulling over the implications of the Skill I'd just gained, we reached the col, and the world opened up before me. An endless valley stretched from the two giant peaks that flanked us, all the way to seemingly the end of the world.

I knew that couldn't be the case, but it was impossible to make out the edge. The two mountains on either side of us thrust from the earth, their tips ringed in obscuring cloud. Like great earthen chains anchoring them to the earth, two ridgelines jutted forth from the base of those titanic peaks off into the distance.

The valley lay between the two, bracketed on either side by the jagged ranges that themselves must have been at least five or six thousand feet high. A tiny river cut its way through the centre of the valley, the afternoon sun transforming it into a gleaming-scaled serpent that writhed down the length of the valley.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Once my eyes adjusted to the scale of it though, I realised how mighty that river must be. The valley was at least a couple miles across, and between them lay an enormity of beautiful pine forests lining the twinkling river, flanked by wildflower meadows above that finally gave way to the rocky ridges that enshrouded the valley.

All thoughts of the system were scattered from my head by the beautiful vista, and I marvelled at it for a time. Eventually though, my thoughts reassembled themselves and presented some pertinent questions. Where was this? How had I gotten here?

"Where are we?" I asked with trepidation.

He had been deep in conversation with his companions, but turned to me, taking in the awe on my face. "Not sure why the low hills have got your heart in a vice," he said with a chuckle, "but there's no accounting for taste, I suppose."

"Near the base of the Unclaimed Peaks. The plains are a few hundred miles that way." He pointed down the titanic valley, gesturing as if I could see anything beyond the haze of ridgelines below. "About a week's hard march at our pace – likely to take you a few given you'll be alone. The terrain can be tricky and there are a few powerful predators in the area."

I was nervous enough about the scale of the journey ahead of me, but predators? I thought of bears, perhaps elk in the middle of mating season. Anything big and dangerous, really.

Jorge continued on mercilessly. "As I said, no problem for us but you'll have to keep a solid watch unless you want a nasty surprise at night."

Vera snorted at that, but didn't expand upon what she found funny about his statement. Jorge took on a lecturing tone as he pointed out a few landmarks to me as we stood before that gorgeous view.

"Y'see that peak halfway down the ridgeline on the left? Shaped like a great hoof?" I squinted and shook my head.

"Ah, ain't got the eyes for it yet have you? No matter. Well, anyhow, that's Cloven Rock – marks the point at which the central river spreads into a hundred tributaries, turning the valley floor into marshes up ahead. It's a subtle transition, and one you're unlikely to notice until you get a day or so in, as the trees don't start changing immediately. Cloven Rock is your sign to get higher onto the valley slopes. There should be a couple solid trails for you to follow 'till you ascend to the ridgeline itself.

"You're aiming for The Gap, I think it's called? It's a point not far from the flatlands, can't see that either with your perception, I suppose, but it's there, nonetheless. A breach in the ridgeline, only a couple thousand feet up from the valley floor. Happens to be the least contested entrance from one valley to the next, and it's a constant battleground. Not quite sure what the scholar's explanation is for it – ask Nathlan if you're interested – but for some reason there's always conflict there between denizens of the next valley over and this one here. Might be a territorial thing? Not sure where the buggers come from as there must be a few dozen killings every day but hey, not your problem."

I was struggling to keep track of what he was saying, but the directions – if you could call them that – were simple enough, and so I committed to memorising them as best I could.

"So, you descend from the ridgeline just before The Gap, either clear a path through or just skirt around, then it's a barely day's travel along the riverbank before you hit the closest trading post. We'll meet you there."

He clapped me on the back in what was no doubt meant as a comforting gesture, but he nearly knocked me off the ledge we stood on and straight down to the path below. Only my steady feet, no doubt enhanced by Sure-Footed, managed to save me from another painful fall.

Almost at the same moment, Nathlan spoke; "My outer ward just went dark."

"Bollocks," Jorge swore. "That gives us what? 15 minutes?"

"Less," Vera corrected. "They've got multiple Claws hunting us, and the Lions aren't cheap. I'd bet whoever commissioned this job paid for a Fang or two as well, to see the job done properly."

Jorge hummed to himself. "10 minutes then?"

"At the most," Vera confirmed.

He sighed, nodding towards the path we'd just trekked our way up over the last few minutes. "Trap it. You've got as long as it takes me to sort out the runt here, then we're leaving. Nathlan, head out now – we'll catch up. Head for the right-hand ridge."

Nathlan set off at a run, and I realised that while he may be the slowest of the three, that did not make him slow. He took off down the thin winding goat-track that skirted the mountain to our right faster than I could match at a dead sprint. His easy gait seemed to suggest he planned to keep that up for at least the next few miles till he reached the ridge line.

Vera meanwhile strode back the way we had come, pulling a chisel and small hammer from the various pouches strapped about her armour. I was curious about what she was doing but had no time to investigate before I felt Jorge's hand clap down onto my shoulder again and twirl me round to face him.

I nearly backed up at the grim visage before me. Gone were the crow's feet at the corner of his eyes and the cheery tilt to his lips that I had never consciously noticed until they were missing, but now I keenly felt their absence. Whereas before I had got the impression of being in on a joke and completely at ease – which was a bit worrying given that I knew nothing of the man come to think of it – now I felt like I was truly seeing him for the stranger he was.

This was a dangerous man, and he was completely focused on me.

A light tap to my cheek brought my focus back to him. "Listen, lad, there's good news and bad news," Jorge said seriously.

"Good news is we can draw 'them away. Tenacious bastards they may be, but we can handle ourselves, and they won't have an interest in you while Vera is busy thinning their ranks."

He let out a slow breath before continuing. "Bad news is that leaves you alone. Out here at the foot of the mountains, you're as good as dead. The creatures that live here are far too powerful for you right now, and so you're gonna have to run like the fucking wind down towards that trading post – the closer to the plains you get, the less danger you'll be in. You got a solid memory of those landmarks I mentioned, aye?"

At my nod, he continued. "Then listen, I'll take you down the track to that ridgeline on your left, then you head straight down to the col, then down to the valley. Get into the trees and stay near the river 'till you reach the Cloven Rock. I wish I had more time to prepare you for something like this but, life ain't fair, is it?"

He passed me a small pebble. It was entirely smooth except for a delicately engraved looping mark scratched into one side, and it fit snugly into the palm of my hand.

"Rune of fire-lighting, courtesy of Vera. Not much power to it but should be enough to get a small fire going if you're smart about it." Into my other hand he pressed the handle of a short, unadorned knife. "This won't do you much good as a weapon but it's better than nothing. I'd use that to cut your meat up but who fucking knows? This is up to you now, lad."

He looked at me seriously again before calling over his shoulder to Vera. He then turned back to give me a grim nod. "Get yourself to that trading outpost in one piece, we'll meet you there. It won't be fun, and I'm sorry to drop you in this, but sink or swim, aye?"

The older man then reached out and hauled me over one shoulder like I weighed no more than a bag of flour. Vera slipped through the door and came up alongside him, and before I could begin to protest that it couldn't possibly be faster to fireman's carry me down a god-damned mountain, they were off.

The breath left my lungs at his first step, as his shoulder slammed into my diaphragm like a speeding train. The next few minutes were some of the most uncomfortable of my life, and I was sure to have bruises forming all along my side. My ribs felt battered and delicate as I was unceremoniously dumped to the floor.

Jorge looked apologetic and I was gearing myself up for tirade of complaints when I looked past him and towards the mountain path we had just flown down. The col was distant, at least a mile away, and I begrudgingly admitted to myself that they may have been correct to carry me.

I was still feeling too sore and squishy to say anything to that affect, however. Vera gave me that surprisingly tender look then, which told me she knew exactly how I was feeling, but then the steel returned to her gaze, and she turned away.

Jorge gave me a hand up and looked me in the eyes one last time. "If you can hit level fifteen, then you'll earn yourself a class and your chances go up drastically. Visualise your progress and create a representation of it in your mind. 'Till then? Work on your skills, and don't fucking die."

With those final encouraging words, the two warriors sped off back up the track, retracing their steps and heading to the opposite ridge to lead away an unknown enemy.

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