“That could have ended poorly,” says Wyn.

  Psai pops out of Wyn’s robe. “Affirmative! Those Gilded Legion guards were rather unpleasant.”

  “You could say that again.”

  “Affirmative! Those Gilded Legion—”

  Wyn rubs her temples. “Psai, I didn’t mean that literally.”

  “Ah! My apologies! I will venture to be better in the future!”

  The two travel together under the quiet veil of night. Wyn stays alert, her senses sharp as the stillness is broken by the croak of frogs and the steady chirp of insects. Yet despite the eerie calm, the darkness feels almost comforting.

  On Earth, Wyn had always loved the night. Even in the smog-choked Gray Zones, where those without wealth lived beneath the radiant cities above, there was a strange peace to be found. The soft hum of street sweepers, the distant whir of hover-vehicles, the pulse of life beneath the grime. Now, in Eden, she’s traded the drone of machines for the hum of living things, and somehow, it feels right.

  But there is one thing Wyn isn’t used to: the complete darkness of night.

  In the Gray Zone, light pollution kept the sky from ever turning truly black. A dull gray haze always lingered, giving the district its name. Here in Eden, though, the only light comes from Psai, drifting beside her like a lazy firefly. The small sphere’s glow reaches just far enough to reveal her immediate surroundings, and that’s what unsettles her most. Her palms grow clammy as her eyes flick from shadow to shadow, searching for any sign of danger.

  Psai’s soft light plays across the trees, casting long, shifting shapes that dance with each step. When they pass beneath a tree with drooping branches, the glow filters through, painting a twisting, snake-like shadow on the ground. Wyn startles, then lets out a quiet laugh as the “snake” wiggles in rhythm with Psai’s gentle bobbing.

  “Are you alright, Wyn?” asks Psai.

  “I’ll be fine. Thought I saw a snake.”

  “It is highly unlikely that you would find a snake in this part of the world. Given the climate of the immediate area, snakes would have a hard time surviving throughout the year.”

  “How do you know about the climate?”

  “Judging by the species of trees and their Earthen equivalents, this area very likely has a continental climate. Typically warm summers and cold snowy winters. As a result, snakes would be very rare in this area.”

  Wyn nods along, letting Psai rant on about the climate. It’s not particularly useful information, but with Psai so excited, she doesn’t want to make him stop.

  “While I suppose it’s possible to have a species of migratory snakes, I personally doubt the efficacy of such a unique species.”

  Wyn rolls her eyes. “Very helpful, Psai. I am really excited about the local fauna of Eden.”

  Psai bobs excitedly, his orb glowing bright. “Noted! I will be certain to provide you with as much relevant data regarding the local wildlife as possible.”

  The two continue up the mountain in the dark for another hour. Wyn’s eyelids grow heavy, and her muscles ache. The mountainous foothills here are steep, and walking for more than an hour up steep hills would make anyone exhausted, especially Wyn given her lack of physical endurance from a life spent mostly playing video games. Wyn spots a nearby cave entrance, hidden behind some bushes. Thinking it would be a good place to hide for the night, she waves Psai over to join her in the cave.

  Unfortunately for Wyn, she wasn’t the only one who thought this was a highly convenient place to set up camp. Wyn pushes the thick brush to the side, and a high-pitched snarling pierces the night. Long sharp claws lunge forward out of the brush, and Wyn leaps backward. Psai floats into the air, and glows intensely, illuminating the area clearly for Wyn. The creature freezes for a moment, temporarily blinded, giving Wyn a chance to examine it with her Insight.

  Enemy: Ironmaw Bovle

  Type: Beast

  Rank: Whelp

  Level: 8

  Wyn smirks at the strange creature. It bears the markings of a badger, with long blackened claws to match, but has a long protruding nose like a vole. Its back legs are thick with muscles, with webbed feet, and a long ratlike tail.

  She can’t help but chuckle at its name.

  It reminds her in some ways of the giant rat she lit aflame in Eden’s Demo, but on a much smaller scale. That ugly rat was the size of a small car, while this was no larger than a small dog. This presents its own issues, however, as Wyn is not accustomed to her abilities, and doesn’t yet trust her accuracy with Mage Bolt. Not to mention her lack of any defensive skills.

  The Bovle blinks away Psai’s blinding light, and focuses on Wyn, lashing out with its teeth and claws. Wyn backpedals, launching a pair of mage bolts. The first one goes wide, decimating a bush behind the Bovle, with the second striking the beast in its side as it bobs and weaves. The bovle snarls with rage, furious at the now slightly burnt fur at its side. It launches forward with an attack, faster than Wyn was ready for. She raises her arm, attempting to protect her face. The bovle’s sharp claws rake through her robes. Her skin tears, and Wyn cries out in pain.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Using her staff less as a magical instrument, and more as a slightly magical club, she thwacks the bovle as hard as she can. Like a baseball struck, the bovle careens away, whimpering in pain as it flies through the air. Wyn, fueled by pain and rage, doesn’t slow down. Using her staff properly, she conjures a trio of mage bolts and fires the first directly at the bovle while it’s still in the air. It strikes, the impact throwing the beast off course for the followup strike, which whizzes past the creature harmlessly.

  “Dammit,” Wyn scowls.

  The creature recovers, pivoting on its heels and snarling towards Wyn. She grits her teeth, sweat dripping down her temple, heart hammering in her chest. Psai floats nearby, his glow flickering nervously. Her eyes flick upwards toward the glowing orb.

  “Suggestions?” she hisses.

  “Run?” Psai offers, his voice trembling but earnest.

  Wyn exhales sharply through her nose. “Yeah, no. I’m done running.”

  The Bovle lowers its head, snarling at her. It circles her, limping to avoid putting weight on its right side, still scorched from the previous attacks.

  Wyn adjusts her stance, her injured arm trembling as she levels her staff. “Come on then,” she mutters, “round two.”

  The Bovle lunges again. This time, Wyn doesn’t backpedal. She dives toward it, rolling low beneath its swipe; the creature’s claws slicing only air. As she rises, she drives the butt of her staff into its gut, then channels what little magic she can muster into yet another mage bolt.

  The explosion of blue and purple light sends both of them flying backward. Wyn hits the dirt hard, breath knocked from her lungs. For a moment, the forest is silent, save for the faint crackle of singed leaves.

  Psai drifts cautiously toward the smoldering body of the bovle. “Did… did you win?”

  Wyn coughs, rolling onto her side, groaning. “I… think so?”

  A faint rustle answers her. The Bovle staggers to its feet. It barely stands, stumbling from side to side. Its fur has burnt away, and its skin lies exposed, ruby red from the bolts of magic.

  “Oh, come on!” Wyn groans, dragging herself upright. “What does it take to kill you?”

  Psai’s glow brightens nervously. “Probably more than we have left.”

  A shiver of cold tickles Wyn’s fingers. She’s at risk of reaching frostburn again, so has no choice but to do this the old-fashioned way.

  “Then let’s make it count,” Wyn says, forcing a grin. “One last round.”

  The Bovle snarls weakly. Wyn plants her feet. She equips her rusty dagger in right hand, swapping her staff to her left. She hunkers down low, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The Bovle’s growl deepens into a guttural rumble that vibrates through the ground. It drags one paw through the dirt, blood and ash streaking beneath its claws. Its one good eye fixes on her. Hatred and hunger mingling in the feral gleam of its orange-tinted eyes.

  Psai hovers back, his glow dimming to a fearful flicker. “Wyn… maybe—”

  “Not now,” she says through gritted teeth.

  The beast charges.

  Wyn darts sideways, the world narrowing to motion and instinct. The Bovle snaps its jaws where her shoulder was an instant ago. She slashes out with the dagger, catching its muzzle. It’s merely a shallow cut, but enough to make it rear back in pain. Before it can recover, she drives her staff upward, cracking it against the creature’s jaw with a satisfying thwack.

  The Bovle reels, but its claws lash out wildly. One strike catches Wyn’s thigh, ripping through fabric and flesh. She cries out but doesn’t falter. She lets momentum carry her into a spin, holding out her dagger with a hope and a prayer. With a pained grunt, Wyn thrusts the dagger into its neck. The rusty blade bites deep, and bovle blood spills across the forest floor.

  The creature lets out a horrible, wet gurgle. The small creature slumps to the ground, dead.

  The forest goes quiet once more, with no sounds save for the soft hisses and chirps of insects. Wyn slumps to the ground herself, exhausted from the sudden battle. She pokes the bovle’s corpse with her dagger.

  “Okay, now turn into one of those orb things, please. I need my Essentia back.”

  Thankfully, the corpse obliged her request. The corpse dissolved, its very essence becoming fine particulate hovering in the air. After the body fully dissolved into the air, it coalesced into an orb, which Wyn grabs and identifies.

  Item: Essence of Ironmaw Bovle - Common.

  An Essence orb containing the essence of a dead Ironmaw Bovle.

  Essentia Affinity: None.

  Without a second thought, Wyn pulls out her Essentia Generator and places the essence orb inside. However, Wyn hasn’t yet learned how to create fire. So, her Essentia pool will have to stay empty until she learns how to light the generator’s fire. She sighs and notices Psai floating above her, bouncing anxiously in the air.

  “I’m okay, Psai,” she says to her orb companion.

  “That is incorrect! You have suffered severe damage from significant lacerations! I recommend you find a healer immediately in order to recover properly. Maintaining your current state is not advisable.”

  Wyn grunts. “I am aware of that.”

  “Good. Let’s go back to the healers at the barracks and get you fixed up!”

  “No,” Wyn groans. “That is a horrible idea.”

  “If you do not move, your injuries will worsen, and you will probably die from bleeding out.”

  Wyn nods and gets herself to a standing position with great effort. Her thigh and arm pulse with pain where the bovle stuck her. She tears off a piece of her sleeve, already torn to shreds by the bovle. She uses it as a makeshift bandage, covering her wounds and cutting off blood flow. It works better than Wyn expected, with the pain quickly ceasing. Unexpectedly, a notification appears.

  Ability Unlocked: Rudimentary First Aid — Crude

  Description: Allows the user to heal simple injuries, and prevent complications from advanced ones. Increases healing gained when out of combat. Provides zero combat bonuses.

  “Huh,” says Wyn.

  Unlike Insight or Mage Bolt, the ability doesn’t require activation, and simply gives a passive buff to out of combat healing so long as Wyn takes the time to do simple first aid. Wyn feels her lifeforce getting stronger with each passing moment. It’s a drop in the bucket, but it is noticeable. Wyn remembers when she broke her arm on Earth. It took months to heal properly and often felt as though it was getting worse. But this time, she could feel the wounds getting better and the pain getting lighter. It was a relief. The last thing Wyn wants to do is stumble her way back to Lethisburg, tail between her legs, having failed to even get to the Boomfrogs.

  With her wounds feeling better, Wyn stands and finally enters the cave. Inside, as expected, is a small nest of twigs the bovle called home. Wyn tentatively shifts the nest of twigs, hoping not to find a litter of young. Thankfully, no young bovles reside there, though the bones of many small birds litter the area. Wyn pushes it all out of the cave and prepares to sleep until morning.

  A thought occurs to Wyn. In her brief conversation with Captain Drell, he emphasized the importance of both eating and sleeping. Her stomach grumbles in agreement, desperate for a meal. A part of her wishes she hadn’t converted the bovle into an essence orb so she could make a meal out of the strange creature, but it is too little too late now.

  She moves the abandoned bovle nest to the side and makes herself as comfortable as possible against the cold stone of the cave. Wyn gingerly sets her generator beside her, wanting to use its passive Essentia generation to refill her diminished Essentia pool. Psai floats gently above her, hovering with curiosity.

  “Do you need something?” she asks.

  Psai shifts left to right, as if shaking his head no. “I am merely curious to see what happens as you rest. If Captain Drell is to be believed, you should experience some functional benefit to leveling up.”

  Wyn shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine, Psai. And keep watch for any more of those bovle creatures. I’d rather not wake up to my face being clawed off.”