There was no need for us to stay any longer, and each moment we lingered was simply another opportunity for it to change its mind about our status as allies. We began to creep out of the room, calmly as one can creep, and tried to make as little noise and fuss as possible.

  I should have known it would be futile to try to evade the notice of a Rakshasa though, and eyestalks swivelled to track our movements as we shuffled out of the cavern. Just before we reached the mouth of the tunnel, it looked up, its vaguely leonine face leering at us, and its eyes seemed to find my own.

  For a heart-stopping moment, I saw my death reflected in those two feline pupils. The eye stalks continued to wave above its head like a perverse mane, and I was reminded of the strangely waving necks of the Tarkenzis from so long ago.

  The moment passed, and I finally exhaled as it dropped its head back down to its meal, the crunching of bone bouncing around the cavern, amplified by its strange acoustics. I gasped when it flicked its head back up and hurled something towards me, and had no time to even move as part of the Corrinian Rhai’s foreleg came sailing through the air towards me, launched like a spear from the gods themselves.

  The speed with which the projectile was launched was shocking, and Sadrianna hadn’t even had time to react properly either, let alone myself. The two-meter-long shard of foreleg, thick around as my chest and hollow, thudded into the ice at the mouth of the tunnel. It quivered, letting off an almost musical note from the sheer force of the vibration.

  I thought for a moment that the Rakshasa was attempting to bar our escape, but it simply bent down to continue eating, and made no further moves to observe us as we backed away.

  The power in that gesture alone was frightening to behold, especially seeing it so casually used. I had struggled to leave a mark on the exoskeleton of a smaller Corrinian Rhai and was only able to crack the shell with help from a magical skill. The Rakshasa had bitten through it as if it were nothing, using only the strength of its jaw, and it was doing so for a creature an entire tier above the one I had struggled against.

  I my erstwhile hunting partner could kill me if it wanted, had seen it destroy an enemy far beyond me as if it were nothing…but for some reason that last gesture was the thing that stuck with me the most.

  I gripped the foreleg in both hands and heaved. It, rather embarrassingly given I was watched by both Sadrianna and a couple of the eyestalks of our saviour, took a few attempts to dislodge the exoskeleton from the floor. Eventually, I managed it, and propped it over one shoulder while bowing to the Rakshasa.

  I didn’t know exactly how intelligent the creature was; whether it offered to me a scrap of the corpse as a token of respect, or because it thought me a scrawny member of its pack that needed to eat more, or because it understood my desire and ability to use the material. Either way though, it never hurt to show a little respect to those that could kill you in the blink of an eye.

  We hurried back through miles of subterranean caverns, and I let Sadrianna take the lead. A few Ice Wraiths appeared just before we left the buried network of frozen caves but she dispatched them with ease. She had some sort of skill that sheathed her weapon in mana and allowed her to cut through mana constructs, by the looks of things, and I was a little jealous of it after thinking back to my own fights with the frustratingly half-corporeal creatures.

  By the time we emerged it was bordering on darkness, the faint haze left by the pale moon not quite strong enough to break through the curtain of mist that enshrouded the world.

  The excitement had worn off by then, and the slight sheen of sweat covering our bodies from the run through the Hollow Mountain caught the gentle breeze, causing me to shiver. It would take a few bells of careful running to make it back to the Basin of Tears, and we came to a quick agreement to find somewhere nearby to shelter for the night.

  We did decide to head at least a bit further down the mountain though, passing below the snow line. We ran quickly over boulders again, but rather than feeling the same joy and excitement from that morning, I was weighed down by questions. ‘Burdened by perspective’ Nathlan would likely say, prone to poetry as he often was.

  It was one thing to meet a creature far beyond your understanding. I’d met the giant, the Subakir, hell even Vera and Jorge to some degree. Sadrianna’s own mother was apparently a 4th tier warrior, and I couldn’t begin to guess at the power she must be able to bring to bear. But it was easy to put such existences in the realm of myth and legend; I was a speck of dust to them, irrelevant to their grand schemes.

  And that was okay. I didn’t need to concern myself with their power. It was alien and foreign and so far beyond me that it didn’t seem real. Just a fact of life, more than anything. One doesn’t wonder about the motivations of mountains, after all. They simply are.

  But seeing the Rakshasa again was different. There was a creature I had once stood shoulder to shoulder with, and suddenly it was elevated to heights I would probably never reach, in a matter of weeks no less. I could climb the tallest mountain, train and fight in the harshest climes and push myself to my limits every day for a year and I doubted I’d be able to face it and win.

  And that was assuming it gained no further strength in that time. Having witnessed a small part of its natural growth cycle myself, I doubted that would hold true. It was humbling and I suspected Sadrianna, despite her close-lipped frown, felt much the same.

  After a few miles of silent running, we had escaped the ever-present carpet of snow on the ground and ducked into a small cave below the tree-line. Tall pines flanked the entrance like pillars in a noble estate, and went a long way to keeping the sodden mist and whipping wind far from the ground.

  We set up camp quickly, a fire crackling and tent erected and lined with warm furs in moments. We sat about the fire, warming our hands and knees against the jumping flame. There was a heavy silence as we both tried to digest the events of the day; my journey through the caverns and near death at the hands of the Corrinian Rhai, Sadrianna’s reckless dash through the caverns after me and near death at the hands of the Rakshasa.

  I laughed then, and she looked my way with a raised eyebrow.

  “Oh, was this not a normal day for you?” I asked.

  She snorted and threw a pinecone at my head.

  “I’m no stranger to violence, Lamb. But no; I don’t make a habit out of almost dying every day.”

  “More’s the pity,” I replied. “Maybe you’d lighten up a bit, if you did.” Another pinecone pinged off my head, but I saw a smile twist her lips as she looked back towards the fire.

  Sadrianna sighed. “So, what’s the story behind…” she gestured vaguely back up the mountain, “all that?”

  I just shrugged in response, trying to for nonchalance. “You mean you don’t have Rakshasa friends?”

  She smirked slightly and raised another pinecone threateningly. I leaned back on my log, raising my hands in supplication, “Alright, alright!”

  I explained the story, briefly. I ended up rambling a bit, as I am want to do, but she kept me on track with questions, interrupting whenever I would stray from the narrative for too long.

  Eventually the topic returned to my gains from the whole experience, and I smiled ruefully as I brought up my status to review them.

  Ancestry: Human (unevolved)

  Level: 44

  Class: Blood of the Hills

  Titles: God-touched

  Attribute allocation:

  Strength: 50

  Agility: 35

  Endurance: 35

  Perception: 35

  Cognition: 40

  Available attributes: 5

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Current skills:

  Guerrilla Warfare: Level 9. Passive.

  Tilt: Level 2. Active.

  Heart of the Hills: Level 9. Active.

  Check Step: Level 10. Active.

  Indomitable Prey: Level 11. Active.

  Skirmisher of Antiquity: Level 10. Passive.

  Mountain-Born: Level 11. Passive

  Faultline: Level 11. Active.

  I described my changes, and she was taken aback slightly.

  “You’re awfully free with your class information, Lamb. Most people don’t share that much.”

  I shrugged again. I was doing it a lot lately. “Well, everyone I journey with is significantly more powerful and knowledgeable than me already. It’s not like you’d need many advantages to kick my ass if you wanted to.”

  She tilted her head at me, like a bird puzzling out the behaviour of a strange worm. “You’re a strange one. I suppose you’re not wrong though.”

  “For now,” I said, a teasing undertone creeping into my voice. “Once I break through to 2nd tier, best believe I’m demanding an honour duel.”

  Her raised eyebrow somehow managed to convey both scepticism and amusement at the same time. She really was a master of the eyebrow raise.

  “You’re not far from it, I would guess. And you’ve got what you need for the new weapon now, I assume?” she asked.

  I nodded. “Yeah. Well, technically you do,” I amended, pointing at her storage ring where the Heart of Winter and Corrinian Rhai foreleg both were stored. “But yes. I’m excited to get back to camp, in all honesty. I’m considering turning the foreleg into some sort of shield as well. My current one is…well, I’ve gotten some good use out of it, but I don’t think it’s quite up to taking blows from the type of enemies I’m coming across now.

  “I was hesitant to block with it in this last fight, and I imagine that’s only going to get worse. The spider I killed was only mid-2nd tier, and not a particularly heavy-hitter at my best guess, and it still seemed like a bad idea to bet bronze against its bone-carapace.”

  Sadrianna nodded, thinking. “It’s not exactly shaped for it, mind. Although a skilled smith might be able to weave shards of it into a mould alongside some tough metal to further strengthen it?” she pursed her lips and cocked her head back the other way, sparrow-like. “I’ve heard of a young smith in the Blue-Cavern clan who’s combined some new form of alchemy with traditional smithing techniques to great effect. He’s allegedly got a skill that can mould material without the need to break it down or heat it first, so maybe he could shape that for you into a normal shield? Would be costly though, and I doubt he has space to fit you in in the next few weeks…”

  She trailed off, shrugging. It was an interesting idea, but I shook my head in response.

  “I’ve thought about it already – hard to think of anything else really. Its hollow, so I think if a smith can drill some small holes and attach some handles on the inside, I could sheath my entire forearm in it – like a bracer but larger…Here, bring it out” I asked, and she summoned the material, passing it over to me.

  It was surprisingly light given its toughness, and I ran my hand along the slightly wider side of the almost tear-drop shaped leg. “See how it tapers out here? I think it could act almost as a blade on my left arm if I cracked it in half, which would give me a curve as well. Not to mention we could crack it jaggedly at the end, giving me a spike to use offensively…”

  Sadrianna leaned forwards, eyes lighting up same as mine as we talked possibilities for weapons. It was easy to see the passion she held for fighting, and how she had become such a formidable warrior.

  The First and the Second discussed weapons around a crackling fire at the top of the world, and the night passed us by.

  “Come, Lamb. We have some things to discuss” Jorge said to me. “Bring your materials as well, we’ll find you a weapons-smith while we’re out.”

  We were all sitting around the large, shared tent in the White-Cliff encampment, and we’d long since finished detailing our experiences in the Hallow Mountain. I’d initially tried to play it coy, using grand language and poetic bullshit to describe our journey, but Sadrianna had jumped in early on to circumvent my plan to wind up the others.

  I rose and followed Jorge out of the tent, Heart of Winter tucked into my belt alongside the shrunken form of my spear, shield on my left arm and hollow Corrinian Rhai foreleg propped over my right shoulder. I must have looked a sight and Jorge grinned at me ruefully.

  “What? We can’t all have fancy storage devices like you, mate.” I said, trying to shrug and nearly getting the 2-meter-long exoskeleton caught in a nearby washing line.

  “Give it here, lad.” He said, beckoning for the foreleg, but I swung it away, a petulant look on my face.

  “No, no. It’s quite alright. I shall carry my own burdens,” I said with a faint air of superiority. We bantered back and forth for a few hundred meters before I begrudgingly gave all but my spear to him to store as we walked through the sprawling semi-permanent camp.

  “Right, lad…” Jorge began, his voice dropping and thick brogue becoming even more pronounced, as it did when serious topics were broached. “I’ve not given you all the details about the 2nd tier evolution yet, but I think it’s finally time.”

  I raised my eyebrow, unable to hide the flare of excitement in my belly in response. I was so close, I could almost taste it, and the further I progressed with this all-encompassing system that the gods from eras passed had supposedly created, the more I hungered for further progress.

  “I didn’t want you getting distracted or trying to push too far too quickly out of some stupid desire for progress for its own sake.”

  He gave me a significant look, and I felt like he could practically read my earlier thoughts. I schooled my features, looking as serious as I could.

  “Think of it like a dam,” the older man began, “there’s a great body of power that you’ve built up over the many levels in 1st tier, and it’s straining at the walls of the dam, just waiting to burst and cascade through the canyon beyond.”

  “Hang on, Jorge, I’m a little lost with this analogy” I admitted. “What’s the dam represent?”

  “You’d think I’d be better at this by now, wouldn’t you?” he said as he looked to the sky, seemingly to himself. “Right; your soul is the canyon. Your…mana…flows through it as normal, at a low pace – that’s the canyon. Every now and then, you push more through than normal, and that strains the walls of the canyon, strengthening them. But what you might not realise is that all the power you accumulate over the 1st tier is stored. It flows through the canyon but also sits above it, trapped behind a dam.”

  I nodded, trying to wrap my head around the analogy and then understand the point Jorge was making beneath the comparison. “This dam is metaphorical, right?” at his nod, I carried on. “So, you’re saying that the strength I’ve gained has been…stored somehow, and breaking through the 2nd tier will release it, all at once?”

  He nodded.

  “So, if I was to guess; 2nd tier classes grant access to more powerful, mana-intensive skills because the process of breaking through to the 2nd tier reforges your soul into a stronger configuration and allows you to channel more power without issue.”

  Jorge grinned. “I knew you weren’t actually an idiot, lamb. Still, it’s nice to have confirmation every now and then.”

  I gave him a gentle shove, and he gracefully allowed himself to be moved. I’d seen for myself the way he and Vera could root themselves to the ground through sheer physical strength, and the world would give way beneath their feet before they were moved.

  “So lad, when the dam is released, all that power floods down the canyon of your soul, and crashes against the sides. If you are prepared for it, it is a strengthening and cleansing process, and you are reforged, as you say. But it causes an immense amount of strain, and it’s possible to fail. Your soul can…crack. If its foundations are not strong enough, then the flood of power is too much and the whole thing becomes destabilised.”

  “That doesn’t sound healthy,” I remarked dryly as we weaved between tents and hanging lines strewn with white and yellow streamers of cloth. The grass below our feet was mostly overwhelmed by a churning channel of mud given the heavy footfall through it, and we had to talk in snatches as we navigated around a gaggle of talking and laughing barbarians.

  “Aye lad, not a pleasant experience, to say the least. No matter though – not a concern of yours. See, in order to strengthen the ‘walls’ of your soul, you need to regularly channel power through it. You’ve been fighting for your life for near a year by this point, and that has doubtless forged a strong soul. Your skills aren’t the highest, but most are past the level 10 threshold, aye?”

  At my nod he continued, “You’ll be fine then. The problem for you will be breaking the damn itself. It’s a bugger of a system, truth be told. Either you have to deal with a soul too weak to survive the process, or you have a damn too strong to break in the first place.”

  I was alarmed to hear that. “So I’m fucked either way?” I asked, as the delicious sizzle of frying food blended with the raucous shouts of vendors trying to entice travellers into stopping and indulging in the many varied scents floating on the cool mountain air.

  “I didn’t say that did I, lad? Stop interrupting. Now, both are problems, and you’ll have to deal with one or the other no matter what. They have different solutions though. If you have a relatively weaker soul, the solution is to delay the breakthrough and just work on levelling up your skills until your soul is ready. Simple.

  “If your damn is too strong, the solution is to work on weakening it before you initiate the evolution. Micro-cracks mind, you don’t want to break the thing open entirely if you haven’t yet hit level 45 and gained a feat sufficient to propel you through the process.”

  I nodded, trying to keep all the new information in my head. It was hard to figure out where the metaphor ended and the real information began, as I’d never felt any sort of damn in my soul before.

  “Two questions, Jorge. One – how do I initiate the evolution? Whenever I’ve gained skills or levels in the past, it’s always just happened beyond my control. I’d assumed the same would be true of the tier-up as well. Two – how do I put cracks in this metaphorical damn?”

  We’d moved away from the food market by this point, and the shouts of vendors was giving way to the rhythmic clang of hammer on metal. The tang of fragrant spices was replaced by a sour smell, no doubt from the tanning pits to the east.

  They were further out from camp, since nobody wanted to live too close to them, but there was only so far they could be removed before it became impractical. Not to mention, many of the treated furs and pelts were being moved between this tradesmen quarter and the tanneries every day, so the smell was bound to linger, at least in part.

  “Good questions. I’ll show you, but the evolution won’t be difficult to trigger. It’s a spiritual awakening of a similar sort to gaining your first class. I know you said you didn’t have much of a choice in that, but that’s mostly due to your own issues” I looked up in outrage and he hurriedly talked over me. “Understandable as they were at the time. You mostly just focus on your future and the system takes over once you’re suitably introspective.”

  “As to your second question; you will evolve your ancestry. It’s mostly a body tempering process, but like they say; ‘as in body, so in soul’. We’ll put your body under duress, and the spiritual damn within your soul will weaken, allowing you to break it on your own terms and begin the evolution.”

  I hummed to myself in thought. It all sounded sensible, but that was always the way when somebody explained a plan. When it came time to actually carry it out, I often found life a fair bit more complicated.

  Jorge steered me off the main thoroughfare and along an alley of tents, heading towards the clanging metal and the occasional roaring of great bellows.

  “Why do I get the sense that that process will involve a great deal of pain?” I asked, and Jorge simply clapped me on the shoulder.

  “Because you’re a smart lad, Lamb. Just as I always said.”