I am more concerned with what you omitted from your last message than what was included, First Spider. Thrice-Blessed, the Subakir, Grimmer the North and the Harlot Queen of Salazar…these are all names beyond our control.

  I am much more concerned with the goings on at our near borders. The Sunset Kingdoms have only just settled down this last decade from their recent upheavals, and now I hear rumours that they are about to erupt once more. Furthermore, an acquaintance of mine who happens to be quite the amateur naturalist remarked casually that the migration patterns of Jackal-Beaks have been strange this past year.

  I don’t need to remind you what that can herald. Please, First Spider, reassure me that you are taking appropriate care of the small picture as well as the large. I would expect such short-sightedness from the First Lector and our Queen Empress, but I dearly hope that the Spiders are far above such mistakes…

  - Reply from unknown scribe to First Spider Archemia of the Desolate Empire, circa .277

  Our warband was assembled, and we looked fierce as wolves on the hunt. 5 was a small number by most counting, but each of us was dressed for war and looked worth at least a dozen to my eyes.

  Nathlan was already closing in on the peak of the 1st tier by my best guess, and Jorge and Vera were deep within the 3rd tier – each a company in their own right. Sadrianna had the skill of many twice her age and was held at early-to-mid 2nd tier by circumstance and workload more than skill. I had no doubt that once we reached the high places, she would further expand her already respectable power.

  I was only at the very base of the 2nd tier, but it was a heady height, nonetheless. I may have stood at the foot of a metaphorical mountain, but I had still made it through the low hills and canyons that separated myself from the flat plains that most of humanity stayed bound to, and I held the power to prove it.

  My body felt lithe and ready, and I was kitted out for battle and travel. Each of us was wearing armour – perhaps not the full panoply of war we would don once we reached the Sunsets, but this journey through the Dragon-Spines was no simple hike. We would face dangers brought by not just the world and the mountains, but its denizens too.

  My left arm was covered in an osseous embrace. Dansel had split the foreleg of the Corrinian Rhai in half and expertly chipped away at the material to create a vaguely concave length of bone, roughly 2 feet long, with straps on the inside. It clung snugly to my left arm and lined it from just past my elbow to terminate at my knuckles.

  There were two small spikes that extended past my closed fist by a few inches to give me a punching gauntlet, and the surface of the weapon was smooth so that any impacts would slide off. There was a raised ridge near the top that angled steeply down and away from my body to hopefully deflect blows to the ground instead of up at my shoulder.

  I had the heavy vest that I had worn before, but it was now reinforced with slivers of the Corrinian Rhai exoskeleton, embedded within the hard leather. When combined with the reinforced plates of steel that were newly sown into the chest and back, my vest now provided ample protection to my vitals. The steel plates were hidden beneath a thin layer of fox-fur to line the front of the vest which would both prevent the plates from freezing in low temperatures, and also prevent the vest from shining brightly in the sun.

  Sturdy armoured boots and winnegas leggings encased my legs, and a wolf-fur cloak and heavy cowl completed the ensemble. My spear was strapped to my belt in easy reach, as were my hatchet and fang dagger. Gloves covered my fingers too, with their high tops obscuring the moulded-metal wrist guard on my right arm.

  Vera was wearing half-plate, slabs of metal worked expertly to overlap and protect her torso, with chainmail falling to mid-thigh and winter gear over the top. Her large broad-sword was slung across her back for ease of carrying, and she had a pair of heavy hand-axes strapped to each thigh with numerous pouches and buckles on a pair of crossed bandoliers no doubt full of nasty surprises.

  Jorge had his supple and strangely segmented leather armour on – I didn’t know exactly what it was made of – and with his spear and shield, he looked somehow larger than his normally modest height suggested.

  The biggest change was probably Nathlan though. His armour – a combination of chainmail, leather, and plate – made him look bulkier than normal, and with the prominent presence of his long, straight-edged blade at his hip, he looked every inch the warrior-prince exiled from his home and on a quest to return. It wasn’t far from the truth, either, given what he had shared recently.

  Sadrianna didn’t look much different, given that she lived her life in the mountains and had a storage ring, but she did at least have her short spear and a long-knife strapped to her, perhaps in honour of the occasion if nothing else. She would get kitted out as and when the conditions demanded, whereas we were all spending the day getting used to the gear and how it functioned before it was truly necessary.

  Sadrianna had given her goodbyes the night prior, so far as I knew, all of us were ready to leave this sacred place after near a week here. Nathlan had dropped off a gift of sweet pastries to the healer that had tended to him, which I thought a nice gesture, and I had spent a few bells at the long-house with Alker and Alfie and a few other patrons the night before. I had needed to blow off some steam from the tribulations of gaining my 2nd tier class and all of the excitement that had entailed, and it was nice to leave on a high note.

  We began our trek early, before dawn had fully broken, and so we descended from the mesa that was the Titan’s Crown in relative darkness and emerged into the land below in light. The golden glory of the morning sun seemed to beckon us on, and I could almost see each of our moods lifting in the moment. An excitement charged the air, smiles coming easy and steps light.

  Nathlan wished to hunt – he still had a few levels to gain before the 2nd tier and was hoping for one last late skill too. I joined him, eager as I was to get accustomed to my new class and skills, as well as the newest skill that I had yet to test properly. The Mountain’s Gate required space and would cause too much of a disturbance to use in the middle of camp, and so I had – reluctantly – waited to test it properly.

  Sadrianna agreed to shadow us to ensure we could find our way back to Jorge and Vera. The lower mountains we were trekking through were a twisting maze of shattered valleys and dead peaks, and given the speed of our movement, it wouldn’t be hard to lose them within half a bell if we weren’t careful.

  “How about World-Walker? I like the sound of that one, and it alliterates!” I called to my two companions.

  “It is not particularly relevant though” Nathlan called back to me from his position a dozen paces ahead, skirting the ridgeline we were ascending with a steady jog.

  “It’s in my class description! And I’m God-Touched, so I technically have walked on at least two worlds. It can’t get much more relevant than that” I groused, sour that this new name continued the current trend of all the others I had previously proposed – being shot down by my companions for various reasons. Stupid reasons in my opinion.

  “Yes, but it is not relevant to what you’re doing in this world, is it? Do you want to be known simply as a man who walks?” Nathlan replied.

  “We seem to be doing quite a lot of walking…” I grumbled, but I did so quietly to myself, and I doubt he heard. He had a point there, and it was only further reinforced by Sadrianna’s mocking words moments later.

  “Here comes Lamb World-Walker – careful, boys! He’ll stride circles right round you!” She said and Nathlan laughed.

  I sighed as I tried to think of something better. I’d already tried Shield-Shaker to little success – ‘when was the last time you shook somebody’s shield, Lamb?’ – but I was keen to find myself a good name before we left the other side of the Dragon-Spines.

  I was prevented from reaching for another name by Nathlan’s quick hand gesture and a prickling feeling in my mana-senses. I frowned, castigating myself internally for missing it because of my distraction. Following both a gesture from Nathlan in front and my own senses, I crept to the lip of the ridge and peaked over.

  A few hundred meters below us, shadowing a small bluff of granite that jutted from the cliff side like the chin of an ancient giant, was a small herd of buffalo. They were easily two meters tall at the shoulder and must have weighed at least a ton each, with half a dozen adults and at least as many calves ranging in size from babies to juveniles on the cusp of maturity.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  I frowned. My naivete had been somewhat drummed out of me by now, but the thought of ambushing and killing baby animals simply for experience still didn’t sit right with me, and I was about to turn to Nathlan and say as much when I caught sight of something else.

  Atop the bluff of hard stone, out of sight of the herd but plainly visible to our eyes, elevated as we were, I saw three hunting cats lie in wait. They were still hard to make out despite our direct line of sight due to the expert camouflage provided by the wide, leathery wings that wrapped their torsos and broke up the shape of their bodies. I had noticed a flicker of movement as one readjusted slightly, but now that I knew where to look, I could see the dark green of their snake-like tails resting behind them – Manticores.

  Nathlan and I traded glances and grinned. A good test, this one. Two of us against three manticores would be a hard fight, although still possible, but when you factored in the ambush, and the herd of Mountain Buffalo below…it should be just challenging enough to strain us and allow us to make the most out of our skills, without too much danger.

  Sadrianna was here as well and would intervene if things got too hectic. Still though, whenever wild animals and fighting occurred, there was always the faint possibility of death, and the slightly more likely possibility of brutal maiming. Ah, my life is fun.

  I snuck closer to Nathlan after retreating a few meters back from the ridge, and discussed a plan. Essentially, he would sneak down as close as possible, and I would begin the ambush at the moment he was in position behind the Manticores, or when I judged that he was about to be spotted.

  I shivered in excitement, wibbling my arms out to either side and shaking my head vigorously to dispel the jitters that came with any intense rush. Axis-Shift, though a mostly active skill, did have the passive effects that I had previously received actively from Heart of the Hills woven through it, and so the rush soon faded into the background as I focused on my task to come.

  I snuck to the top of the ridge, hefting my spear in an overhand grip and letting mana trickle slowly from my core into the weapon so as not to catch the attention of the predators below. Nathlan began the slow descent down the grass-bound mountain slope towards the bluff of rocks, taking care to manoeuvre around the occasional patch of scree that would alert the whole mountain side were he to cross it.

  He put in an admirable effort, closing to within 30 or so meters before I saw the ear of one of the manticores twitch his way. Squinting slightly, I noticed a subtle shift in the musculature of the hind legs of that beast and knew it had heard something. I stood slowly, cocking an arm back before taking a deep breath. I lifted my front foot up, sighted down the length of my arm, wreathed as it was in my bone-shield, and then stamped back down, throwing the spear with all of my might.

  I didn’t wait to see the results, and I took a few steps back and then sprinted at the ridgeline before leaping off. The rapid crunch of boots against stone gave way to nothing but the whistling of air past my ears as I flew out into empty space for a heart-stopping moment, before I began to drop.

  I fell through the air like a stone cast at a lake from a great height – silent and with thunderous momentum building – and while in the air I heard only two sounds over the hissing of the wind; a shriek of pain as my spear thudded home into the back of one of the manticores, skewering its wing to its side and pushing it off the edge of the rocky bluff with the momentum it imparted, and a deep growl as one of the creatures rounded on Nathlan and leapt towards him, fangs and claws bared and glistening with saliva and poison in equal measure.

  I had just enough time before impact to see Nathlan with his blade out, shining with ethereal light, and weaving a stunning defence against the first creature as the third also pounded up the slope towards him, and then I was hitting the steep slope below with bone-jarring force.

  Or I would have, had I not activated Break-Step in time. When I was no more than 10 meters from the ground, I shunted mana through new pathways and my skill blazed into activation, snatching my momentum away as the word slowed, such that I landed with no more than a slight bend in my knees and a few small rocks displaced from the steep slope, 50 meters below the ridge I had jumped from.

  Nathlan was still a hundred meters below me though, and so I wasted no time surging down the slope towards him, even as the second chimera below did the same in reverse. I heard another yowl and caught a glimpse of him slicing through the left paw of the creature he engaged, severing toes and claws in a shower of blood even as he retreated up the slope under the intense onslaught.

  I leapt again, pushing away from the mountainside with all the power I could muster into my legs, and activated my new favourite skill – A Frozen Pyrre. I had discovered the subtle reference in the penultimate line of that skill – ‘hold your weapons, varied as they may be, forever close with the strength of your soul’ – alluded to a new ability. I could create strings of mana to anchor my weapons to me, in a similar manner to how I could now recall my spear using the brand on the back of my hand.

  I leapt out into the air, crossing another 50 meters of open ground in a single leap, and my hatchet snapped into my outstretched hand from where it had rested in the loop in my belt. I threw it end over end at the manticore charging up the slope, and it pranced aside at the last moment to avoid the projectile. No matter though, as my fang-dagger was in my hand the next moment and then sailing towards it even as it recovered from its last dodge.

  This one hit home, though the dagger was not balanced well for throwing, and while I had practiced, I wasn’t an expert. It hit hilt first in the creature’s shoulder, and opened a shallow cut as it fell that dribbled a small bead of blood. The point wasn’t to injure though, even if it would have been a bonus, but to slow the creature’s charge until I could meet it.

  Another application of Break-Step – this one almost too early which made my heart stutter for a moment – saw me land just behind Nathlan as he fought the first manticore, and then I was bounding past him, shield raised as I crashed into the large chimera that had sought to unbalance the numbers.

  We fought there, Nathlan with clean arcs of his blade against a wounded manticore on the slopes a dozen meters above me, and me with vicious punches of my shield whenever I could find an opening between blocking the strikes of the manticore engaged with me. I ducked beneath a snapping bite from the manticore’s tail as the snake at its end whipped around at my throat, and deflected a heavy paw as it thundered down towards me, and then surged up into a tight uppercut with my fist, hearing a rib break beneath my armoured gauntlet.

  It cringed back for just long enough for me to flex mana to the brand on my right hand, and a moment later I heard a scream of pain from further down the slope and my spear haft smacked into my palm. I grinned at the creature before me then, setting my feet and placing spear over the top of my raised shield in a phalanx stance. Myrmiddion Spear was a passive skill, feeding me experience and innate knowledge over time, so it was impossible to pinpoint exactly its affects, but I knew my stance was stronger, my weight more evenly distributed than in the past.

  And those differences stacked. It darted in for a bite, feinting high with its broad snout and then tucking its shoulder in an attempt to unbalance me. I simply struck with my spear at its head, causing it to flinch away from its bite, and then set my feet, bracing behind my shield as I felt the impact of near a ton of hunting cat slam into me.

  I struck blindly over the top of my shield with the spear, and felt the lanceolate head catch on something. A brief flex of mana within my soul down the artifact link of Resolution and I heard a pained whimper followed by the tinkling of shards of ice hitting my raised shield as the Heart of Winter that acted as the spear-head of my weapon charged an explosion of ice inside the wound.

  I let my grip leave the leather-wrapped haft of the weapon and drop to my side even as I activated one of the mana strings courtesy of A Frozen Pyrre, and my fang-dagger slid into my hand from where it had dropped to the ground nearby. A quick jab into the creature’s side saw my arm showered with thick blood, and then I was leaping away to avoid crushing jaws from turning my side into a pulp of blood and bone.

  The manticore shook its great head and made to leap into the sky, its leathery wings unfurling to their full size, impressive at they were. I growled and activated Axis-Shift, and it stumbled in place, wings frantically beating to keep itself on its feet with the sudden onset of delirium my skill caused. It lasted only a moment, but that was long enough for me to summon my spear back to me from where it had remained embedded within the beasts’ shoulder.

  It screamed in agony as chunks of frozen flesh fell to the floor from the gaping wound, and I roared as I leapt to meet it, spear leading the charge. I activated Shatter Point as I stabbed it in the mouth, and shards of teeth and tongue exploded as my spear burst through the roof of its mouth in a splatter of gore. I hit it then, the full weight of my body pushing the spear deeper into its skull as I finished the arcing leap, and it fell beneath me.

  I ignored the system notification and the faint ringing that heralded it as I checked Nathlan’s progress behind me. He was doing well, moving smoothly without visible injury, and his opponent seemed to be struggling to keep up and bleeding from several deep gashes along its flank, as well as its tail being cleanly severed, the foot-long stump waving blood about as it twitched whenever the chimera moved.

  I turned and set off down to the bluff where the manticores had originally been hiding, hearing growls and panicked lowing from below it. As I rounded the corner of the small stone promontory, I took in a ghastly sight.

  The manticore I had pinned with my spear-throw at the start of the battle was busy tearing into one of the calves, its pained squeals drowned out only by the frantic lowing of the adult buffalo as they circled around their young. Clearly, the manticore had managed to sever one from the herd and now was messily consuming it before its entire family.

  It knew it faced little threat from the generally sedate mammals, and so took full advantage of its power, presumably assuming its companions would finish off the pests that had dared to attack it moments ago. Bones crunched, the squealing of the young calf cutting off abruptly, and I growled in anger. I would punish such hubris.

  I was still a good 20 meters away though, and the chimera was already coiling its legs for a leap that would take it behind the line of adult buffalo. There was no time to throw my spear, and Axis-Shift didn’t yet have the range, though I was hoping it would as it levelled.

  Luckily, I had one skill left.