“He’ll be fine,” Jack muttered to himself, half in reassurance. “Gondel will watch out for him.”
He forced himself to refocus, forging deeper into the woods, kicking aside fallen branches, and letting out huffs of annoyance with each unsuitable find. More than once, he paused, picking up what looked like a promising staff candidate, only to discover rot or hidden cracks. “Come on,” he murmured, frustration edging his voice. “Where’s that perfect branch?”
After nearly an hour of aimless searching—and continuing to marvel at the insane level of detail the “devs” had poured into this environment—Jack stumbled upon a sunlit clearing. At its center stood a massive oak, gnarled and ancient. Its bark seemed timeless, and though the branches carried no leaves, the tree did not appear dead. Instead, it radiated a quiet, solemn power.
“Whoa,” Jack breathed, stepping closer. “This is next-level artistry. The devs must’ve spent weeks modeling this alone.”
He approached gingerly, scanning the ground around the oak for the ideal branch. Then, about fifty feet away, he spotted it: a fallen limb, thick and straight. A surge of excitement rushed through him—maybe this could be the staff Gondel insisted he craft. Just as Jack strode forward, two things happened at once: his journal buzzed at his side, and a low, menacing growl rumbled behind him.
Fear spiked, freezing him in place. Don’t panic—like last time with the thugs, his mind warned. He forced a swallow, slowly turning around with both hands raised in a gesture of surrender.
Three wolves, each midnight-gray and bristling with tension, stood in a semicircle, eyes glowing with feral challenge. Jack’s heart hammered. Three? Great. He tried to speak, but only a shaky squeak emerged. “N—nice doggies?”
A flicker of text streaked through his consciousness from the journal:
Forest Wolf (Level 2)
Forest Wolf (Level 2)
Forest Wolf (Level 2)
Alpha Forest Wolf (Level 4)
Jack felt his blood run cold. Alpha Wolf Level 4? He only saw three. So where was the fourth?
Suddenly, two of the visible wolves began to prowl forward, hackles raised. The third, pacing behind them, bared its teeth. Jack’s breath caught in his throat. No Petros to heal me this time… can’t do anything reckless. But the lead wolf, evidently hungry for a fight, sprang with a snarl.
“Chain lightning!” Jack shouted, thrusting his arms outward.
Electric arcs crackled from his fingertips, striking the lunging wolf mid-leap, then chaining to the second and third with a near-blinding flash. The lead wolf crashed to the ground just inches shy of Jack’s face.
Forest Wolf (Level 2) has died. Experience gained.
Text blazed in his mind as the second and third wolves writhed on the grass, dazed. Jack’s relief was cut short by a sudden, massive impact slamming into his back.
He hit the ground with a gasp, the weight crushing the breath from his lungs. Something huge pinned him, a colossal paw against his shoulder. Hot breath fanned the back of his neck, accompanied by the reek of wet fur and primal musk.
At first, Jack thought the warm splatter on his cheek was his own blood—but the drool trailing down his jaw told him otherwise. A whimper of terror escaped his lips.
The beast pressed its muzzle against Jack’s ear. In a guttural, rasping growl that barely resembled human speech, it spoke:
“You… do… not… be…long… here.”
Jack’s eyes flew wide. A talking wolf? He tried to force words out, but his tongue felt numb.
“New… meat,” the wolf hissed—or growled—breath rancid and heavy. It let out a near-laughing snarl, the muzzle grazing Jack’s neck.
Jack’s heart hammered. A flicker of last night’s ambush flashed through his mind—the sense of helplessness, pinned to the ground. But this time, he refused to give in to panic. “N-not… this time,” he croaked, struggling to conjure lightning.
With both arms trapped, he tried summoning electricity from his whole body, focusing on the spark that had barely saved him against the boars weeks ago. For a moment, nothing happened. The wolf gave a mocking rumble, something close to laughter.
Then Jack felt it: the snap of pent-up energy crackling through every muscle. A shock wave of Chain Lightning erupted from him, sending blue sparks rippling in all directions. The Alpha Wolf roared in agony, hurled off Jack’s back by the massive discharge.
Jack scrambled to his feet, sucking in air. Dizzy from mana drain, he spun around to see the Alpha—larger than the others, fur streaked with grey—already recovering, shaking its head to rid itself of the electric stun. Unreal. That should’ve fried it, Jack thought, alarm spiking again.
Movement behind him made his blood freeze. The other two wolves had recovered from the initial chain lightning and were circling behind, cutting off any escape. He was surrounded.
Jack clenched his teeth, refusing to be cornered. He locked onto the Alpha, now prowling forward with a limping gait, charred fur smoking in patches. Summoning the last dregs of his energy, he called down Fire Rain, swirling embers collecting overhead in dark clouds.
Bolts of fiery ash plummeted from the sky, peppering the Alpha. It yelped, trying to sidestep the scorching embers but still took multiple hits. Each ember sizzled against burned fur and singed flesh.
Still, the beast wouldn’t yield. It charged at half-wolf speed, driven by pain and fury. Time for Earth Shatter, Jack decided, voice cracked from desperation: “Earth Shatter!”
The ground rumbled beneath the Alpha’s paws, a jagged chasm opening under it. With a startled yelp, the wolf tumbled into the mini-pit, hind leg trapped as the earth sealed back up. A savage shriek tore from its throat as it gnawed its own leg free in its frenzy to lunge for Jack.
Jack gasped, drained of nearly all mana, but with no time to rest. The wolf was battered but not dead, bounding forward in a final, blood-splattered leap. Jack raised his trembling hands one last time, calling Chain Lightning again.
The blue arcs surged out in a furious web, colliding with the Alpha mid-jump. The energy blast flung the wolf backward, and the recoil dropped Jack to his knees from sheer exhaustion.
Alpha Forest Wolf (Level 4) has died. Experience gained.
Jack’s vision blurred. Mana exhaustion slammed him like a tidal wave, and his body slumped. Vaguely, he registered the other two wolves watching from a distance, growling warily but not advancing. A bitter laugh escaped his cracked lips. At least I took down the big one…
He collapsed in the grass, consciousness flickering. As darkness closed in, he expected to feel fangs at his throat, accepting he might be these wolves’ next meal. Instead, he heard only distant snarls and the faint rustle of leaves. Then nothingness claimed him.
The sunlight slicing through the cottage window painted the interior in gentle gold, though the mood inside was anything but peaceful. Petros knelt on the floor, breath coming in quick rasps, an ever-present warmth still tingling in his hands. He’d just finished healing the elderly woman, who now stood flexing her fingers in disbelief.
“Me arthritis is gone,” she murmured, eyes wide as she bent her knees experimentally, testing every joint. Despite her age, she moved with a vigor that startled even Gondel. “Thank you,” the woman whispered, voice trembling with gratitude. “I… I’ve never felt this limber.”
Petros managed a weary smile. Healing the mother and eldest child had depleted his mana, but reversing the older woman’s chronic pain was more akin to a “routine spell”—less drain than rescuing someone on the brink of death. Still, fatigue clung to his limbs like a leaden blanket.
“Just… glad I could help,” he replied, exhaling shakily. He sensed no lingering disease, only the faint echo of joint pain that had vanished under his healing aura. He gave her a slight bow of respect, then excused himself to find some fresh air.
Stepping outside, Petros drew in a deep lungful of crisp forest breeze. The chaotic swirl of emotions—fear for the dying family, relief at their survival—mixed with a euphoric surge that always accompanied a successful healing. Exhaustion with a dash of victory, he thought wryly, letting the tension ebb from his shoulders.
Curiosity fluttered through him, prompting a quick look at his journal. He flipped it open, scanning the newly formed text:
Congratulations! You have leveled up!
You have reached Level 2.
Reward: 20 copper coins.
Reward: Simple Hooded Cloak.
+1 Skill Point
You have gained the skill: Life Surge.
Your mana pool has increased.
“A cloak?” he murmured, half to himself. Sure enough, the moment he focused on it, Petros’s hand delved into his pouch and felt smooth fabric. He tugged the hooded garment out just enough to confirm it was real—like everything else from these “quests.” Shaking his head in marvel, he slid it back inside, not wanting to invite Gondel’s scrutiny yet.
Petros then lingered on the mention of Life Surge. The memory of reviving the little girl a day earlier still haunted him. This skill formalized that ability—an ultimate healing technique. He gulped, rereading the description:
Life Surge (Level 1):
Taps into a large portion of the caster’s mana pool. The caster may be left severely weakened or temporarily drained.
Resurrection: By consuming a great deal of mana and a portion of the caster’s HP, Life Surge can revive a fallen ally, but only within a strict 60-second window after their fatal blow.
Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
A low whistle escaped his lips. That’s… powerful. And terrifying.
His journal scrolled anew, presenting attribute and skill options:
Strength
Agility
Endurance
Intelligence
Willpower
Soul Mend
Exorcism
Spirit Guardian
Life Surge
Petros considered each carefully. Jack had once mentioned leveling intelligence for bigger spells or faster mana regeneration. After all I’ve done today, more mana regen sure sounds nice. Without hesitation, he circled Intelligence.
A subtle rush coursed through him as if a fresh wind swept up his spine. He felt his mana pool surge, refilling faster than before. “Much better,” he muttered, rolling his shoulders. Then he hovered his quill over Life Surge, fighting the urge to invest his precious skill point in the brand-new ultimate. Ultimately, he decided to hold off—it was already formidable enough, and he hardly understood its risks.
“No sense powering up a skill that might kill me,” he mused with a half-laugh, flipping to the status page.
Human: Petros Levine
Class: Spirit Warden
Soul Mend (Lv. 1): Channels healing energy to restore allies’ health over time. Mana: High. No cooldown.
Exorcism (Lv. 1): Devastating vs. undead or corrupted. Low mana. 10s cooldown.
Spirit Guardian (Lv. 1): Summons ethereal protectors for 60s. Medium mana. 10s cooldown.
Life Surge (Lv. 1): Instantly heals a large portion of ally’s HP. Revive fallen ally within 60s. High mana cost, drains caster’s HP.
Smiling, he was about to store his journal away when a thought struck him. He opened the book and flipped to the folded map. Unfurling it, he quickly spotted his icon right outside a tiny cottage surrounded by trees. Inside the house was four green dots and one yellow. Curious about who the yellow dot was, he dismissed the thought, looked around the map, and spotted Pendle; tracing the road, he saw Gondel’s campsite. Following the road, he spotted a green dot a ways north in a clearing. Smiling, he immediately knew that it was Jack. He also noted a drawing of an ornate tree in the middle of the clearing where Jack’s dot resided. Next to the tree were symbols. He made a note to himself to find out about the symbols.
He was about to rejoin the family when he noticed Gondel stepping out of the cottage, gently closing the door behind him. Petros hurriedly stuffed the folded map back into his pouch, startled to realize someone else had followed Gondel—a small child with wide eyes. In his haste, stowing away the ma,p he missed the yellow dot exiting the house at the same time Gondel showed up.
“You did well in there, boy,” Gondel said, clapping Petros’s back with a paternal warmth. His gaze flicked to the bag slung over Petros’s waist. “Ready to move?”
Petros nodded, adjusting the strap. The child—apparently the older woman’s now healthy grandson—blinked up at Petros in awe, then darted back inside, leaving them alone. Gondel’s expression shifted from praise to something more suspicious, his gaze lingering on Petros’s pouch.
“Let’s head back to where Jack’s gone,” the wizard said, starting down the path. “But first, we’ll make one more stop.”
They bid the delighted family farewell. The older woman pressed a bag of provisions on Petros, beaming with gratitude. He tried to refuse, but she insisted. With a shy smile, Petros tucked it under his arm. I wonder if it’ll fit in my bag of holding…
Soon they reached the main road, turning east toward the forest trails leading to Pendle. Petros fidgeted with the provisions sack—a bit large for convenient carrying. He toyed with the idea of cramming it into his small pouch but hesitated. Should I reveal this to Gondel?
Gondel paused at an unmarked, camouflaged path that branched off to his hidden campsite. Casting Petros a sidelong look, the wizard flicked his gaze between the bulky sack and the inconspicuous pouch. “I’m not sure why you keep fussing with that bag,” he remarked with a wry grin, “when you could just store it in your little dimensional item. Unless you’d prefer to pretend you don’t have one?”
Petros froze, color draining from his cheeks. “I—uh—”
Gondel chuckled, giving his staff a playful tap on the ground. “Boy, I’ve been around longer than most. I know a bag of holding when I see one.” He reached out, ruffling Petros’s hair in a surprisingly affectionate gesture. “No worries. I’m not about to rob you. C’mon.”
Without waiting for Petros’s reply, Gondel headed off the road and disappeared into the brush toward his camp. Flustered, Petros exhaled. He unclasped his pouch, shoving the large sack of provisions inside with a single practiced push. The opening of the pouch shouldn’t have been big enough, yet the entire bundle vanished into the endless interior.
“Guess the cat’s out of the bag,” Petros mumbled, glancing down at the innocuous messenger bag slung over his shoulder. In his haste, he nearly forgot how unnatural it was. “This world… it’s insane.”
He followed Gondel, mind racing with questions about how the wizard recognized the dimensional storage so easily. Maybe he’s more than just a half-drunk conjurer, Petros thought wryly. Maybe he was the real High Wizard…
A coarse, wet sensation brushed across Jack’s cheek. Groaning, he flailed a hand to swat whatever was tickling him—only to encounter warm fur and the distinct outline of a muzzle. Reality slammed back in a flash: he was in the middle of the forest, having collapsed after a brutal fight with the wolves.
He jerked upright, heart hammering. Two massive wolves stood before him, panting quietly. Jack’s first instinct was to summon electricity, a spark flickering between his raised fingers. Yet he paused, noticing neither wolf bared its teeth or hunched with aggression. Instead, they sat back on their haunches, tails giving quick, tentative wags.
“What the—?” Jack muttered. He let the static fizzle, lowering his hands slowly.
One wolf rose and spun in a silly circle, padding forward to rub its muzzle against Jack’s outstretched palm. The sheer improbability of it made him hesitate—but the creature only nuzzled closer, prompting Jack to give it a careful ear scratch. The second wolf whined as though demanding equal attention. In seconds, Jack found himself on the grass, laughing in pure astonishment while two huge predators licked his face and nudged his hands, as friendly as a pair of oversized dogs.
“You two were terrorizing me not an hour ago,” he remarked, breaking into a grin. “Now you want belly rubs?”
He shook his head at the absurdity but couldn’t deny the warmth flooding his chest. After a bit, Jack stood, dusting himself off. He raised a cautious hand, and both wolves sat like obedient hounds, gazes locked on him. An incredulous chuckle escaped his lips.
“Stay,” he said experimentally. To his amazement, they stayed.
A smile tugged at Jack’s mouth. “Guess we’re friends now,” he mused, pulling two biscuits from his pouch—leftover from breakfast. “Good boy,” he cooed, tossing one biscuit to each wolf. They devoured them immediately.
Relief gave way to curiosity. Jack slid his journal out, scanning the glowing text that had gone unread:
New Quest: Defeat the Forest Wolves to collect the branch
Forest Wolf (Level 2)
Forest Wolf (Level 2)
Forest Wolf (Level 2)
Alpha Forest Wolf (Level 4)
Forest Wolf (Level 2) has died. Experience gained.
Alpha Forest Wolf (Level 4) has died. Experience gained.
Forest Wolves see you as the new Alpha.
You have bonded with Forest Wolf (Level 2).
You have bonded with Forest Wolf (Level 2).
Quest Complete: Defeat the Forest Wolves to collect the branch
Reward: 70 copper coins added to your pouch
Reward: Simple Hooded Cloak added to your pouch
Experience gained.
Congratulations! You have leveled up!
You have reached Level 3.
You have one new skill point.
You have two unspent skill points.
Loot Forest Wolf (Level 2)? Yes / No
Loot Alpha Forest Wolf (Level 4)? Yes / No
Jack blinked, mind reeling at the revelations. “New Alpha?” The pair of wolves still panting happily at his side seemed to confirm it.
“Alright,” he breathed, circling Yes on both loot prompts.
Text rolled through his awareness:
25 copper coins added to your pouch
Simple wolf hide added to your pouch
47 copper coins added to your pouch
Uncommon wolf hide added to your pouch
Alpha Forest Wolf Core added to your pouch
At the last line, Jack’s heart skipped. “Alpha Forest Wolf Core,” he read aloud, rummaging in his pouch. The moment he envisioned the core, his hand closed around a warm, disc-shaped crystal, pulsing with faint energy. A subtle aura radiated from it, sending tingles through his fingertips.
“A monster core?” Jack marveled, flipping open the journal again.
Monster cores are concentrated magic essences dropped from creatures level 4 and above. They vary in potency:
- Basic beasts yield lesser cores
- Elite/Alpha beasts yield more powerful alpha cores
Some Uses: Ability enhancements, currency, or advanced recipes.
“Nice.” Jack gave a low whistle, tucking the core back safely. Mana crystals that could enhance spells or gear? That was next-level loot. He stowed the journal, making a mental note to allocate skill points later. For now, he grinned, retrieving a hooded cloak from his pouch as well—a quest reward. He slipped it over his shoulders, relishing the snug, comfortable fit.
Donning his new cloak, Jack strode with renewed confidence toward the ancient oak. There lay the fallen branch he’d spotted before everything went haywire. Hefting it experimentally, he appreciated its solid weight and unwavering core. Even the bark felt dense and unyielding in his hands.
“Yeah,” he murmured, tapping it against the ground, “this could make a sweet staff.”
He briefly used it as a walking stick, striding toward the southern edge of the clearing. Yet after just a few yards, a whine behind him made him stop. Turning, he caught sight of the two wolves trailing at a distance, eyes filled with something akin to concern.
“Oh, right,” Jack said, raking a hand through his hair. “What do I do with you guys?”
One wolf ambled up timidly, licking his outstretched fingers. Jack scratched behind its ear in reflex, but worry flitted across his mind. Bringing wolves into town was hardly wise. Yet their unwavering gaze told him they wouldn’t simply vanish.
“Let’s see if this works.” He crouched between them, meeting their golden eyes. “You can come along, but keep hidden, alright? No scaring villagers. Go do your own thing if you need to hunt—just… don’t kill friendly people. Understand?”
The wolves panted, silent but intent. Jack nodded, standing up and pressing the branch into his pouch with a grin. He knew it shouldn’t fit, yet the wood slipped out of sight in seconds. The wolves cocked their heads as if acknowledging this odd magic.
“Stay out of plain sight near the road,” he added, wagging a finger. “I’m trusting you.”
One wolf let out a half-bark, half-growl, sounding suspiciously like acceptance. Jack chuckled. “Alright, new pack, let's get moving.”
By the time Jack reached the main road, the wolves had melted into the tree line, visible only if someone really tried to spot them. Jack sat on a fallen log by the roadside, cloak rustling in a mild breeze, feeling a surprising sense of calm. A day ago, he’d been pinned by an Alpha Wolf and nearly eaten. Now, he commanded a tiny entourage of forest canines.
The gentle hush of mid-morning surrounded him. Birds chirped overhead, and faintly in the distance, the ring of a blacksmith’s hammer from Pendle. Every so often, Jack sensed the wolves’ presence beyond the foliage as though they watched him from the undergrowth.
“Guess we’re in this together,” he murmured.
He gazed down the empty road, waiting for signs of Gondel and Petros returning. Wind rustled the leaves, and he let out a soft laugh, acknowledging the improbable bond he’d just forged. The future felt uncertain, especially with demon threats in Aerothane, but for now, he held on to a small triumph: new gear, new power, and the respect—maybe even loyalty—of two forest wolves.
“Not a bad day’s work,” Jack quipped, pulling out his Alpha Wolf Core for another quick look. “Not bad at all.”
He closed his fist around the warm crystal, letting hope spark through him like the lightning he commanded—ready, in his own way, for the next challenge that would surely come.