[30:05:30]

  Flint proved to be the skeleton key to Buck’s unexplored potential. The powerful jackalope moved through the swarming rats like a harvester through wheat—if the grain screamed and burst into clouds of blood and gore. Buck had initially worried that his new friend would be a liability, being level 1 and all. But, after a short trial and error period, Flint became a tornado of dismemberment.

  As always, that damn hamster had been right. The Gray was a hidden ace in commanding both Flint and his Minions. While [Gray Mist] was active, a single touch could make even Buck’s rat Minions terrifying. It artificially increased their strength to astronomical levels compared to their measly Level. Their tiny bodies became grotesque blurs that left behind rat carcasses looking like they’d been through the woodchipper.

  The downside? He still couldn’t control how much of the attribute was transferred. Every buff left Buck feeling like a juice box that had been stepped on. His muscles withered to twigs, his vision swimming as The Gray siphoned his very essence into his allies. It wasn’t sustainable. This turned him into the world’s most vulnerable cheerleader in battle—all pompoms, no protection.

  Worse still, he couldn’t control the flow. Try as he might, he couldn’t compel more than one attribute at a time to be transferred. Whatever had happened with William seemed to be a one-time thing. Or at least Buck had yet to figure out how to open the faucet all the way.

  Transferring multiple Attributes was like funneling a hurricane through a coffee straw. The excess energy dripped over the sides, splashing uselessly into the void.

  None of this slowed Flint down. With the enhanced Strength, the Revenant stomped through the rat horde with the subtlety of a tornado in a trailer park. Quickly, he turned the area outside the [Rats Nest] into a bloody nightmare. Chunks of flesh strewn around like some demented Jackson Pollock painting if Pollock worked exclusively in entrails and regret. The carnage was disgusting. Profitable but disgusting.

  Buck quickly watched his coffers fill with bronze. Quickly recuperating all the coin he’d spent on his pants. Flint as well was rapidly leveling. Soaring up to level 5 after only a day of wanton slaughter.

  Yet, as with his resurrection, Flint wasn’t the only one benefitting from his skill levels.

  [One-Handed Weapons] (Basic - Combat)

  -Level 12-

  A foe is but an obstacle for you to surpass. And is there a better way to pass your goals than with a trusty sword or axe or, I guess, a stick you picked up off the ground in your hand? A One-Handed Weapon allows you the freedom to defeat your opponents in many ways. How will you destroy those who oppose you?

  [Natural Weapons] (Basic - Combat)

  -Level 8-

  Be it claws. Be it hooves. Be it some really big chompers. The Races of the Cracked Kingdoms come in all shapes and sizes. Many even change their shape and size during their climb. Do not be afraid to become more in tune with your own body’s strengths. Do it. You’re already snapping people’s heads off with a thought.

  [Grappling] (Basic - Combat)

  -Level 9-

  Sometimes, all it takes to take down an enemy is to get a little down and dirty. Get up in their face. Hold ’em down. Wrap yourself around them. Then, instead of doing the thing you’re thinking about doing, just rip them apart with whatever other weapon you have in your arsenal. GRAPPLING. It’s not just for the bedroom.

  Buck was able to track his new companions’ exploits by watching his own skill levels increase. By this point, Buck had reached the peak of the first echelon of levels. Reaching an overall level of 25 early into their hunt, and as Evander had explained, he had stopped gaining progress toward another level.

  However, this didn’t bother him. With each breath, each step, and each kill of the stinky little rats, he was growing closer to reaching Level 25 with his skills as well. The anticipation of learning the first major ability earned for each skill was palpable. If he were lucky he would also start gaining access to Common rarity skills, further specializing his specific fighting style.

  Yet, that wasn’t all. Bev sent him another message upon reaching level 25.

  [Congratulations! You have reached level 25! You now have access to a Class Upgrade. Journey to your Kingdom’s Nexus to choose your Reward.]

  [Reminder! You do not need to select your Class Upgrade immediately. Choose to continue leveling your Skills, and you will gain access to more Class Upgrade Options.]

  This, again, was exactly how Evander had explained, and Buck knew his path forward. He wouldn’t choose a Class Upgrade until he could control his Attunement competently. The initial burst of power from upgrading his Class wasn’t worth it to him. If he chose to continue training, he would probably find some specialized class that fit perfectly with The Gray. He wouldn’t let himself be forced into a decision like last time.

  Flint’s voice cut through Buck’s thoughts like a rusty cleaver: “Master. More slaughter?”

  Buck eyed the rat guts dripping from Flint’s antlers like morbid Christmas decorations. “Yeah. Let’s see how efficient we can make this horror show.”

  The familiar stench of rotting fur and copper hit Buck’s nostrils as they approached the [Rats Nest]. He’d grown almost accustomed to how Flint’s flesh quivered with unnatural energy, the green glow beneath his skin pulsing in time with Buck’s heartbeat.

  With a nod that had become ritual, tomahawk in hand, the claws of his misshapen paw-hand hybrid protracted, Flint charged. The rats responded as always—with suicidal bravery. A dozen [Rodents of Totally-Normal Size] surged forward, their beady eyes gleaming with what Buck swore was recognition. They were ready for a chance to kill those who had slaughtered their brethren.

  Buck activated [Gray Mist] and [Step Forward] in concert and became the eye of the storm

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  The world slowed as The Gray surged through him—a thousand icy fingers probing his ribs, searching for purchase. He’d hoped to bypass his own Attributes, but The Gray was clingier than a jealous ex. It needed him. Wanted him. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t force this vampiric force to bypass his Strength. Which gave him an idea.

  A rat leaped, and Buck reached out.

  The transfer hit like a shotgun blast to the gut. The rodent’s Strength ripped through him—muscle memory, predatory instinct, the raw animal fury of something that gnawed its own young—before he could funnel it into Flint.

  The Gray was something different. Buck had become a conduit, like a confluence at the mouth of a river. The Source poured towards him from the rat, pooling within him like a massive body of water. Now, all he had to do was channel it towards his allies.

  Buck’s vision doubled. For a horrifying instant, he saw through Flint’s eyes—tasted blood on his newly sharpened teeth, felt the satisfying pop of rodent spines between his claws. Then the connection snapped tight, and Flint…

  Flint became unstoppable.

  The jackalope’s muscles swelled, veins rising like cables beneath his rotting fur. His tomahawk moved in blurs, each swing leaving crimson trails in the air. Rats didn’t die so much as cease to be—one moment a squealing fury, the next just…red mist and memories.

  Buck stumbled back, his nose bleeding freely now. It required a massive amount of concentration to harness this insatiable thirst. And try as he might, he couldn’t keep up. As Buck flashed around the battlefield, activating ability after ability to stay out of harm’s way, he felt something change within him.

  His perception of The Gray needed to evolve. The Source and The Gray had become indistinguishable. It grasped at his Attribute Points, one by one adding to Flint’s Strength. But he couldn’t stop moving. By adding the rodent’s Strength to his and then transferring it to Flint, Buck was able to stay on his feet. But the moment he couldn’t find a foe for The Gray to feast upon, it turned its hungry eyes back onto him.

  Buck heard a wet crunch and a squeal cut short as Flint finished his massacre.

  “Jesus,” Buck wheezed; watching Flint reduce their enemies to gorey pulp was sobering. “Remind me never to piss you off.”

  Flint paused mid-swing, a rat dangling from his jaws like a grotesque cigar. “Wise, Master.”

  —

  The fire cracked like snapped bones as Buck watched Flint skin their dinner with unsettling precision. It turns out that nearly genociding an entire race of tiny beasts was tiring work. The jackalope’s claws made wet schlick sounds as they parted fur from the flesh, his green-flecked eyes reflecting the flames in a way that made the rat carcasses look like they were screaming. Buck skewered the rat with a now practiced hand, holding it over the campfire like some disfigured hotdog.

  [Congratulations! Your Cooking skill has increased to 4]

  [Cooking] (Basic - Cultivation)

  -Level 4-

  Food. Glorious Food. Be you Peasant, Be you Citizen, Be you Ruler. Everything must eat. But eating raw food is just gross. Ew! All that blood just dripping everywhere? Yucky. In comes Cooking! An easy way to make gross things taste good. Maybe you could find some salt to really spice up these Rat Kebabs.

  Buck dismissed the notification with a mental sigh. Choosing to instead look over at Flint. After a whole day of fighting together, he still couldn’t wrap his head around what Flint was. He was a proficient fighter, quickly adapting to Buck’s command. But in the end, Flint followed each command like it was law. If Buck wanted, he could tell the jackalope to jump off a cliff, and he would do it with a smile on his face.

  “Flint,” Buck muttered, watching the Revenant’s claws pause mid-skin.

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Do you..” Buck paused, thinking about how to ask the question. “Do you remember anything from before your resurrection? Anything about yourself or the other jackalopes? Did you have a family?”

  “No, Master.”

  Buck rubbed his temples. This was like interrogating a particularly violent brick wall.

  “Flint. Stop skinning the rats. I want to talk.”

  Buck watched as his bodyguard quickly stopped what he was doing. Rotating on the rock, he sat on until he faced his Master. Yet, he didn’t speak. Only looked expectantly at Buck, waiting for him to ask a question.

  “Look,” Buck said, skewering his rat like a shish kabob from hell. “I just want to know why’d you pick that name?”

  The jackalope tilted his head, making his antlers cast jagged shadows across the surrounding pines. “It felt right.”

  “Not much to go on there,” Buck thought.

  “Right, how?” Buck pressed. “Like a memory? A vibe? A sudden urge to name yourself after your previous form?”

  “Yes, Master,” Flint said, going to pick up the half-skinned rat.

  “Flint,” Buck said, exasperated, “I don’t know what is happening here. Based on everything everyone is telling me none of this should be happening. Evander says you shouldn’t remember anything. Like, anything, anything. Revenants are blank slates, like toddlers that need to learn everything from the ground up. You, Me, William, were breaking all the rules by just existing.”

  The fire popped, sending up a shower of sparks that illuminated the bloodstains on Flint’s fur. For the first time, the Revenant hesitated before responding.

  “I will stay by your side, Master.”

  “Yes, I know that,” Buck said, rolling his eyes. “But we need to make our own place out here. We need to find out the best way to survive. The best way to save as many people as we can. I don’t like the idea of slaughtering everyone, and everything just to summon some soul that may or may not have been trapped within the Root for god knows how long so that I can make an army.

  “Evander talks of all these warring Factions. These people that have spent so long living in this world that they have forgotten how fucked up it is. We have to be different. We can’t just follow along, bending to the will of these so-called Old Gods. The only difference between them and us is that they think this is normal. We shouldn’t have to kill to live in this world. There has to be a better way.”

  By this point, Buck was rambling, but he continued speaking. He needed to get this all out. “None of us know who we will be or need to be in this new world. But I know one thing. I don’t want you to do whatever I say just because I’m your…Master. I need people that I can trust, people that I can rely on to be by my side. After fighting your…old body and whoever was helping you, I realized that no matter how strong Bev can make me, If I slip up even once, I may never be able to find my family.”

  Flint took a moment to consider this before speaking. “You speak of family,” he rumbled. His claws flexed, shredding the rat tail he’d been absentmindedly torturing. “I feel… a shadow of that. Not memories. An echo.” His eyes met Buck’s. “You are my anchor. But I choose to follow.”

  Buck nearly choked on his rat-kebob. That was the most un-zombie-like thing Flint had said yet.

  “Okay, new plan,” Buck said, waving his dinner like a conductor’s baton. “It’s just been one thing after another since I entered the Cracked Kingdoms, and according to Evander, this is only the first step. After this…Convergence, its only gonna get worse. So, from this point on, no more blind obedience.

  “If we’re gonna survive this clusterfuck of a Kingdom, I need allies who can tell me when I’m being an idiot.” He gestured to their grisly campsite. “Case in point: maybe we shouldn’t base our entire economy on rat genocide.”

  Flint considered this. Then, with sudden inspiration, he began weaving the rat tails into a crude noose.

  “Or,” Flint said with terrifying earnestness, “we could take prisoners.”

  Buck stared at the dangling rat-tail noose. Then, at Flint’s hopeful expression. Then, back at the noose.

  “... That’s not what I meant by ‘not killing everyone.’”

  Flint’s shoulders slumped, the noose unraveling.

  “But,” Buck added quickly, “it’s a start. Maybe we can work up to the non-lethal solutions. Like…rat jails.”

  The jackalope perked up. “Rat jails?”

  “Sure.” Buck smiled. “With tiny little rat shackles.”

  Flint’s grin revealed too many teeth. “I will make them from their own bones.”

  Buck opened his mouth and closed it. Progress was progress.