"…and we need to take our country back! Back from the inbred nobles that run shit into the ground every year! Back from the landowners that salt our fields with their shortsighted wars every generation!"

"Yeah!"

"You fuckin' tell 'em Garry!

"Preach brother!"

"Back from even the cruel Guardians that patrol our borders and kill the beasts! They are innocent of all crimes, and even the greatest of our heroes seek to slaughter them in cold blood to feed the ever-expanding war machine of the…"

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah, hang on a second here, Garry."

"They have destroyed our connection to nature, and now we suffer for their sins! I have gazed upon the face of the divine and seen their wrath! We are meant to live in harmony with the creatures of this world, not war against them! Let the Cave Bears walk through our streets, let the Titan Rooks roost in our towers and the Rakshasa scurry beneath our feet, and I promise you children, our lives will be beautiful once more!"

"Oh, he's completely lost me now."

"Did a bear write this speech?"

- Last speech given by street preacher Garolden Harkony, as transcribed in 'In my father's footsteps – a memoire of the silk roads' by Brother Ferdinand Genitivi

A chill wind whipped leaves into my face in a swirling pattern of obfuscation as I leapt backwards, avoiding a scything cut from pointed claws. The creatures moved surprisingly fast for things with bodies made from mulch, and their claws appeared wickedly sharp. I wasn't keen to find out whether appearances were deceiving.

The ground was broken from the emergence of the cavern, and the footing was slippery and insecure. Cloven-Hooved was invaluable, more than confirming my desire to hold onto the Skill rather than replace it with a new one. Fighting two opponents was never easy, especially when I didn't have a reach advantage to keep them at a distance, but if I also had to watch my footing and navigate around obstacles while fending off their deadly blows… Well, I probably would be doing a lot more bleeding than fending.

They moved strangely, in rapid jerks of intense movement. When the writhing masses of vines that acted as their legs were rooted to the ground, they stayed roughly in place, leaning forwards on fluid appendages and swiping out with their freakishly long arms. It was akin to the movement of a snake – fast, unpredictable, and dangerous.

But when I danced out of range of their lunges, they would slow right down, unable to follow as quickly. That was all that saved me from death, as they took time to detach their leg-vines from the earth and stride forwards unsteadily, before picking a new spot to sink onto and strike at me from.

The first few moments of the fight were hectic, and death's crooked fingers came as close to grasping me as they ever had before as I scrambled back from the first unexpected strikes. But as things started to drag out and I established their range and speed, I found that I was safer than I'd expected. They were… predictable. I could avoid them if needed, and retreat seemed to be an option at any time as long as I was out of their immediate range.

But I soon noticed a growing problem. A dread aura emanated from the creatures as the fight progressed, pulling at the edges of my mind and making me feel as if there was something behind me. 'Check, just look behind you,' it seemed to say. 'There is something back there. Don't move towards it!' The whispers demanded.

I activated Heart of the Hills, and the Skill gave me the clarity I needed to understand it was simply an effect of an aura Skill. Dangerous though, especially if I hadn't had a mental Skill of my own to counter it. It had started subtly, and the suggestion had almost seemed like an instinct, similar to those instinctual suggestions provided by The Forgotten Spear or other passive Skills.

Heart of the Hills warded my mind, while my shield warded my left side. The creatures carried tremendous strength in their blows, rocking my shoulder and bruising my forearm where I took the impact, even with me angling the deflection to bleed off momentum.

I couldn't just block them forever, as while my endurance was impressive, it would likely not outlast these creatures. Animated golems, brought to life by some unknown magic, were unlikely to tire – and that was ignoring the fact that creatures/monsters/beasts – however you classified them – tended to have higher attributes relative to their level than the sentient races that had classes of their own.

Of course, they could be incredibly strong but very fragile creatures, with energy only enough to fight for a few dozen heartbeats. They would be pretty awful guardians if that was the case, though, and they were clearly guarding something with the way they flanked the entrance to the cavern, designed rather than natural as the stone stairs were.

I tried to trade a few blows with the golems where I could, but my spear was primarily a stabbing, piercing weapon, not designed for the broad slashes that could sever through the vines beneath the mud. They lacked armour, but the thick mud and mulch covering their bodies was surprisingly effective at protecting the vine-skeleton beneath. Despite the sharpness of my spear-tip, all momentum was leeched from each strike within moments of connecting, preventing any serious damage.

Given their strength, I was hesitant to try and tangle with them more closely. Perhaps I could simply reach into the coagulated mass of their bodies and rip out their vines, but I didn't fancy my chances of surviving such a feat. No, I needed to stay at back, dance in and out of their range and try to sever any vines that I could.

Over the next half an hour, I tried to make that strategy a reality. I danced in towards them, nimble footwork carrying me under and past heavy swipes, hearing the whistle as claws of sharpened bone parted the air above and around me.

Surprisingly, I found it easier to stay within their range when both were nearby. From a dozen feet away, they were deadly and quick, lunging forwards faster than a cobra, but when facing each other, they had to check their swings lest they slice through each other's tough bodies with their inexplicably sharp claws.

I carried a nasty cut along my ribs from one of them, blood sheeting down my stomach and staining my ragged robes, but thankfully the bone had saved me from evisceration, and my guts still were firmly where they should be. Hill-Folk seemed to toughen me up in body and mind generally, but with a particular focus on my bones and connective tissue. It also sped up my recovery slightly, but I wasn't sure how much my endurance played a role in that compared to my Skill. Either way, I was fairly sure the Skill had saved my life in this fight at least once.

After what felt like an eternity where I collected a dozen minor injuries and the above-mentioned major one, I finally cracked the code. I would use my footwork to stay at range until both were 'planted' near one another, then I would dart in, using their bodies as shields against the other and slicing out with my new dagger to cut through the thick mud and into the softer vines beneath.

A change occurred when I managed to sever all the vines of one leg and the creature it belonged to collapsed to one side. It could no longer hinge forward on its legs and therefore its range was greatly reduced. This almost spelled disaster, since its companion was no longer in danger of cutting through it while swinging at me.

I managed to use Check-Step at the last moment and throw myself away, but I did feel a heavy impact in one rib as I landed on a slab of stone, dislodged by the cavern revealing itself earlier. It was roughly in the same area as the slice I'd received earlier, and so it was likely that the injury had weakened the rib enough to crack – I was long past being fragile enough to take serious damage from falling from only a short way to the ground.

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The fight from there was more of a lesson in conserving my energy. Each breath carried a sharp stab of pain where my chest expanded and forced my injured rib to move, and I found myself struggling to bring in enough oxygen for the explosive movements I needed to avoid further damage.

The one missing its leg was a much safer target though, and I managed to manoeuvre the other one a few dozen feet away before disengaging and rushing to the injured creature. Its companion tried to follow, but it was slow after uprooting itself, and I had enough time to slip behind the injured creature and start slicing through the vines entwined through its leering Skull.

The fang I used as a knife – tougher than anything I'd yet come across and sharp as the day I found it – sliced easily through the thick green vines but left not a mark on the bone beneath. I glanced behind me to see the other creature mere feet away, its front leg slamming into the earth and the vines making it up writhing beneath their mud-shell as they wriggled into the ground beneath. Knowing I had only a moment before claws would pierce my back, I sliced through another clump of thick vines before gripping the horns on either side of the skull with both hands and yanking, roaring as I did so.

There was a slight delay where nothing was heard but my heavy breaths, pounding heart, and the crunching of small rocks and displaced earth as the golem advanced on me from behind, and then a wet tearing sound echoed off the steep cliffs. All at once, all resistance to my pulling vanished and I stumbled backwards. Elation at my success filled me, but I remembered at the last moment to throw myself to the ground and heard a swish as vicious claws parted air where I had been a mere moment before.

The breath was driven from my lungs by the impact and my already-broken rib screamed in protest. I activated Heart of the Hills once again, knowing that without help, the pain would inevitably make me hesitate as I rolled away and leapt back to my feet.

I didn't wait to see the reaction of the creature to my killing of its companion. The instant I felt the ringing in my mind I sprinted back away from the gorge and the cavern it contained, leaping over rocks and weaving through trees for long moments before I paused to listen. There was no sound of pursuit, so I slowed my pace as I continued on, checking myself over and confirming I was not about to drop dead from some hidden wound.

The cut along my ribs was deep but already clogged, no new blood welling forth to stain my clothes. I had no doubt I would re-open it a few times in the coming days, but it hadn't cleanly severed through the muscle beneath the skin, and so I hoped it would heal quickly.

I sighed as I realised that I'd left my spear on the battlefield, but I knew I'd be back tomorrow to reclaim it, anyway. Right now, though, I needed to retreat now and lick my wounds like an injured dog. Metaphorically, of course.

I cut left through the sparsely covered gorge, heading to the cliff that surrounded the sunken riverbed on one side. Gritting my teeth against the pain of my many injuries, I started to climb, taking my time and being careful to test any handholds that looked insecure. My diligence paid off when near the top, at least a hundred feet from the valley floor, a huge chunk of rough stone pulled loose from the cliff when I tested it. Despite specifically checking for it, my heart still pounded in my chest and adrenaline flared through me as I imagined what would have happened had I been more careless. A good lesson there.

Once I reached the top, I trekked along the lip until I hit the end of the gorge, feeling too fragile to run as I usually did. It took another half an hour to return to where I'd fought, and when I looked down, I could still see the gaping hole in the earth and the unmoving form of the remaining guardian, rooted to the ground not far from my discarded spear.

I sighed and backed away, trekking back again until I found a cave within the cliff face before scaling my way over to it. I couldn't find the back of the cave, as it seemed to stretch on into the rock for a long while at a downward slope, and I soon backed out again deciding I wasn't in good enough shape right now to investigate properly.

I was tired to my bones and wanted to just curl up in a ball right then and there. I activated Indomitable Prey to put some fire back into my step, and I headed back outside, mentally marking the location so I could find it again tomorrow. The sun had begun to drip below the distant peaks when I finally found an acceptable cave, with no evidence of habitation and no large cracks through which something could emerge. I dumped my shield and the skull I still carried for some reason, leaving my knife free in one hand as I headed back out to collect some firewood.

I found a couple of pieces of flint and some dried moss and headed back to my cave, where I deposited them with the firewood already collected. It took far longer than it should before I managed to get a spark to catch, but luckily the moss was surprisingly flammable. The problem was rather creating the sparks in the first place since I lacked steel to use with the flint, but my enhanced attributes and a bit of patience eventually made up for the lack.

Despite the fact that I'd been carrying my own fire-lighting rune around for half a year, Jorge had insisted on basic survival lessons, and I was now quite thankful for them. Meat-Preparation also lent me some wisdom when it came to how to get a fire going as well, and so the result was a hearty flame burning merrily inside my cave, smoke drifting out into the night.

I had nothing to eat, and quite frankly was too exhausted to go hunting, especially in the dark while injured, so I just huddled around my small fire, feeling the warmth leech into my bones and my body start to unwind from the tense state it had been in for the last couple of hours.

I turned my attention to the system notifications that had been insistently buzzing in the back of my mind.

Skill 'Cloven-Hooved' has increased in level. Cloven-Hooved' – level 9

Skill 'Hill-Folk' has increased in level. Hill-Folk – level 8

Skill ''The Forgotten Spear' has increased in level. The Forgotten Spear – level 7

Skill 'Heart of the Hills' has increased in level. Heart of the Hills – level 5

You have killed an Autumn Forest Wraith (level 61). Experience gained.

You have reached level 38. Attribute points available for allocation.

I perked up a little at the notifications, my mood improving when I realised how high-level the creatures were. This was the first time I'd killed something above level 50, and the golems weren't the weakest 2nd tier equivalent monster I'd heard of either, though they did have significant and easily exploitable weaknesses.

This fight also confirmed what Nathlan had explained – that higher-levelled creatures provided more experience to combat classes. Cloven-Hooved and Hill-Folk were both nearing the soft Skill cap, and I almost felt like I could feel the constant ache in my chest ease a little with the increase in level to the latter. It might simply have been my imagination, though.

In fact, after consideration, I was sure it wasn't real since the changes from Skill upgrades were instantaneous, unlike level-ups where the attributes needed allocation before they could take effect. Speaking of, I allocated the attributes I'd gained into perception to bring it up to a nice round 25, and spent the other 7 split between strength and agility.

That done, I pulled the tattered robe tightly around my body, huddling close to the fire and settling in for a long, cold night. Tomorrow, once properly rested, I would attempt the merge of my two Skills, and then I'd retrieve my spear, hopefully bagging myself another level or two in the process.

Dawn found me with a dry mouth and full bladder, and neither would allow me to continue to snooze. After refreshing myself at the nearest stream a good few miles from my cave, I jogged back, feeling light and fresh, although still favouring one side of my body.

The wound in my right side, once cleaned and rested, was simply a shallow laceration that would heal in time, but the bruising around the rib beneath was large and mottled. I could still move around unhindered if needed, but I felt a slight twinge if I moved too fast in certain ways, and I couldn't banish the dull ache that thudded away in the background.

I wasn't keen to face the creature that I knew was still waiting at the cavern mouth, and so I took my time collecting more firewood, and spent an hour fishing in a large creek nearby.

I flipped a fish out of the water onto the bank nearby, and only narrowly avoided a nasty puncture wound from the foot-long creature as I threw it. Looking down in confusion, I was startled to see a pair of fangs lining either side of the fish's mouth, glistening in the early morning light as it flopped around hopelessly on the bank. Wary of getting too close, I simply watched it flop about, before turning away.

I had no problem hunting for my food – the creatures I'd bumped into in Tsanderos seemed much more aggressive than I would expect, which probably implied something about the world I'd come from before – but I didn't exactly relish seeing another creature in pain. While I wouldn't risk a bite from those fangs, especially with the possibility of poison, I likewise wouldn't watch if suffer.

A few moments later I heard a splash and whirled around in time to see a flash of pink as the fish slipped back into the stream.

I cursed, louder than perhaps appropriate when alone in the woods, but still… Fuck! I'm watching the next one till it's dead. As luck would have it, though, the sun had barely moved in the sky when I closed my hands around the next fish. It flew through the air towards the bank, and I even managed to reach out and grab its tail as it flew.

A quick yank and I'd brained it on a nearby rock, stunning it before I stabbed cleanly through its head with my make-shift dagger. The fang seemed to almost drink in the blood as I left it impaling the fish, but I paid it no mind, stepping back to observe the death throes of the creature and praying it wouldn't somehow wriggle away like the last one.

You have killed a Speckled Creek-Hopper (level 8). Experience gained.

Breakfast secured, I headed back to my cave and got to cooking.

Licking the remains of the fish from my fingers, I sighed in contentment. I'd found some fennel on the way back from the creek, and while I missed the bountiful supplies that Jorge kept in his storage device, the fish had a natural salty tang and went down easily.

I could only put off my project or so long though, and after clearing up – an easy job, just kicking out the fire and throwing the carcass and wooden spit into the valley far away – I settled into a comfortable pose and dropped into the meditative trance that allowed me to view my soul.

I had work to do.

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