“Next!”

  Dean nearly jumped at the sound of the voice. He’d been waiting in line so long that he’d practically zoned out of his surroundings. When looked up, he saw the woman at the intake window staring at him with an impatient expression.

  “NEXT,” she repeated, this time with a little more force. Dean strode forward hastily, coming to a stop before the window. The woman was middle-aged, dressed in the light green uniform generally associated with Guild administration. At his approach, she eyed him up and down, her frown becoming more pronounced.

  “If you want to sign up for exam registration, you’re too late. Come back next year.” She was already looking over his shoulder, preparing to call the next person in line, but Dean waved a hand to get her attention.

  “I’m already a registrant,” he said. “I was told I’d be on the list to use the training facilities by the proctor.”

  The woman’s eyebrows rose.

  “Name?”

  “Dean Thompson.”

  Sighing she snatched up a long piece of parchment and began running her finger down the list of names.

  “Thompson,” she said absently. “Ah, here you are. Is this your first time in a Guild Hall?” she didn’t bother to wait for a response.

  “Well, here is how things work Mr. Thompson. The Training Facilities are available to prospective Adventurers during weekdays from morning until dusk. Access includes the sparring squares, training dummies, weight room, and lower obstacle course, should you choose to use it. Please keep in mind that the upper facilities are off limits to anyone who doesn’t hold a Guild Rank or badge. Vip spaces are for Adventurers only, and the Guild enforces that policy.”

  She pulled a fresh piece of parchment from the stack and dabbed a fountain pen into the ink well.

  “Aside from that, the rules are simple. Don’t kill anyone, don’t break anything, and pay your dues on time. The amount will be due at the end of the week. You are prepared to pay dues, aren’t you?”

  Her pen hovered over the parchment and Dean swallowed. The meager coppers he had left were hardly enough to cover dues, and he knew if he wanted to afford the use of the facilities, then he was going to have to come up with more.

  “Of course,” he lied, brushing off the comment like it was nothing. The Guild Administrator scribbled something down on her paper.

  “Excellent. Then I’ll just add you to the hall records and give you a temporary admittance pass. I’ll just need a few details. Guild or Family association?”

  Dean’s heart sank. He didn’t have sponsorship from a Guild or a prominent family and had infact, been hoping that the training hall might provide opportunities to socialize and network.

  “Uh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m unaffiliated currently.”

  The woman’s eyes snapped up to his, widening with surprise.

  “An independent?” she asked, her voice caught somewhere between amazement and exasperation. She seemed to catch herself and hastily scribbled a note onto his paperwork.

  “Very well. I’ll admit that is unusual, but not entirely unheard of. What’s your class?”

  At his expression the woman’s eyes widened further.

  “Are you…. Have you yet to manifest?”

  Dean nodded, feeling a little foolish.

  “I’m seventeen and haven’t manifested a class yet. I want to be an Adventurer… there's no other path for me.”

  “You do realize that you’ll be at a disadvantage compared to those who manifested combat classes, correct? If you want a serious chance at competing to win the physical exam, then you should strongly consider the benefits it offers.”

  “I’m aware,” he said. “But I don’t want to risk my chances to power scale later on. Second-class manifestations always have a chance of capping your ranking power, and I’d rather not risk it.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s a myth,” said the Guild Administrator.

  “No, it isn’t.” The smooth voice boomed out from somewhere behind him. The Administrator's eyes slid over his shoulder, and her cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson.

  Dean turned to see a man roughly the size of a small tree looming over him. He was broad-shouldered with sun-tanned skin and arms the size of branches. His eyes were a vibrant gold, and when he looked at Dean, he felt a brush of power.

  “Adventurer Draken,” breathed the woman, clearing her throat and shuffling unnecessarily with her papers. “I didn’t know we were expecting you today.”

  “Ah,” the Adventurer nodded his head, his slicked black blonde hair bobbing. “That’s quite alright. I was dealing with trouble in the east and wasn’t sure when exactly I’d return.”

  The crowd in the line behind Dean were all goggling at him, though whether it was because of his sheer size of the Bronze Adventurer badge on his chest, he couldn’t be sure.

  “And who is this?” Asked Draken, turning his attention back on Dean. The Administrator seemed to only just remembered that Dean was still present.

  “Oh, this is Mr. Thompson. He’s a new prospective Adventurer, a registrant for the exams.”

  “Excellent!” boomed the Adventurer, his voice so loud that it made several nearby patrons jump. “And did my ears deceive me? Thompson, here is a classless?”

  Dean nodded, and Draken smiled. The expression on his chiseled face was almost comical.

  “Impressive. Forgive me for listening in on your conversation, but Dean is most correct. Manifesting a combat class earlier, if the option is available to you, gives you an edge in hunting, training, and the exam itself. But, it can come with a cost. Sometimes, those who manifest their Adventurer class second will find their ability to scale their power diminished. It takes a lot from the body and soul to manifest twice, after all. In fact, the practice is quite new. It seems Thompson here is old school,”

  He gave Dean a genuine grin, flashing white teeth, and Dean smiled uncertainly back. The man was a bit of a weirdo, but it was clear that he was powerful. If Dean wanted to make friends in high places, he supposed it was better not to step on too many toes.

  “Er…thanks.”

  Draken nodded as if his thanks were to be expected.

  “You are quite welcome. Now, Hazel, if you’d be so kind as to inform The Chief Administrator that I’ve arrived, I would be much obliged. I have a matter that I need to discuss with her.”

  “Of course,” she said hastily, and Draken turned and strode towards the double doors. The Guild officer standing guard snapped hastily to attention, pulling open the doors as he approached. Dean watched him go, unsure of what to make of the man.

  “Mr. Thompson?” it took him a moment to snap back to reality. He turned back to the window to see the woman sliding a small square of paper towards him, with his name and information neatly scrawled in black lettering. At the bottom was an official wax seal.

  “This is your temporary admittance pass. It should be valid up until the date of your exams. Should you pass,” her face made it clear she thought this unlikely. “You will trade it in at the Academy Guild office for your iron badge. If you fail, then you’ll be required to return it. Do you have any questions?”

  Dean shook his head, eager to get the paperwork over with.

  “Then you’re all set.”

  Dean took his temporary pass from her and headed for the doors. The guard eyed the pass, giving Dean a casual once-over before waving him forward. Dean grasped the handle and sucked in a breath. Then he pulled it open.

  The training hall itself was much larger than it looked from the inside. The wooden ceilings were vaulted, with glass skylights that filled the space with natural light. Before him, the room was open and spacious, covered with soft mats meant to dampen impact. On them groups of prospective Adventurers, they sparred, trained, and practiced their weapon forms as they prepared for the exams. Dean spotted a row of sack dummies along the far wall, as well as a larger, much more ominous-looking contraption made of wood a the center of the room.

  Even as he watched, someone approached the dummy, their practice sword at the ready. They were fully kitted in armor, something Dean thought odd until the thing started moving. In a flash of runes, the contraption on the ground seemed to snap to attention. Wooden limbs rattled to life, stretching towards the Adventurer as a whirl of copper gears sounded. It was as if the sound had alerted everyone in the room. As one, sparring partners, trainees, and those running the obstacle course against the wall all turned to observe the would-be Adventurer face this thing.

  The wooden contraption was at least twelve feet tall, with six spiderly limbs and a long and narrow torso. Those limbs moved at an unnatural speed, snapping this way and that.

  “Andre’s trying to beat the banshee again!” A cheer went up around the room and Dean felt his own excitement surge as the man went for it. Sprinting forward, he dove beneath one flailing limb, rolling and rising to his feet. Another limb descended from on high, and the Adventurer raised his practice sword, managing to deflect the attack. The sharp crack of wood on wood rang through the air as the man knocked aside a third limb, ducking under the appendage and running forward.

  He's looking for something Dean realized. A weakness? No…. wait…

  Dean felt it before he saw it. A soft pulse that pulled at his mana sense and directed his eyes to the torso of the wooden creature. Along the middle of its narrow frame was a small notch in the wood. Within that notch, Dean could see a faint glow. The armored man, Andre, presumably, seemed to see it too. He cried out in triumph, darting sideways in an attempt to get around the remaining limbs. For one wild moment, Dean thought he might actually make it. Then the whirring of the automaton suddenly stopped. There was a pause, one in which it seemed like everyone in the room was holding their breath.

  Without warning, the contraption began moving again. With a snapping sound, it twisted, its many elbows snapping in and folding on themselves as its arms reversed direction. Andre hadn’t seemed to anticipate this, cursing like a sailor, he attempted to throw himself sideways, narrowly avoiding getting crushed by one of the appendages. The impact rattled the floor under Dean’s feet, and he widened his eyes as he suddenly understood the need for the armor.

  Andre had recovered from his dive, but he was noticeably slower. The automaton showed him no mercy. He was able to dodge twice more before his mistakes caught up with him. The machine seemed almost alive.. anticipating his motion. Like a spider setting a snare, it had snaked the tip of one of its limbs around behind him and, without hesitation, it struck.

  Andre was knocked around like a leaf in the wind as three limbs hit him in quick succession. Dean winced, as did several of the onlookers, as the armored man was thrown fifteen feet away, where he landed with a bang and bounced twice. A silence fell across the training hall, as the automaton ground to a halt.

  “Is he dead?” asked someone in a near whisper. Then Andre stuck a gauntlet in the air and gave a pained thumbs-up. Several people erupted into cheers, the others shaking their heads and turning away as Andre’s friends rushed towards him. Dean hadn’t realized his heart was racing until it was over.

  “First time seeing the banshee?”

  Dean turned to see a tall and slender man standing nearby, a bow over his shoulder. At first glance, he appeared human, but by his slightly slanted eyes and the ears that almost curved to points, Dean recognized elven lineage.

  “Yeah,” he stammered, glancing back at the contraption. It had gone entirely still in the position it had been in before Andre’s approach. “How does it work?”

  The boy laughed. “Only the Gods and the Artificers know. It’s been here long before I got here, and it will be here long after I leave. They say besting before the exams gives you good luck. I think it’s a load of superstition, but it would be cool to have your name on the hall of fame anyway.”

  “The hall of fame?”

  “Aye.”

  The boy pointed to the far wall, where a smooth granite surface held carvings of names. Dean squinted at it, whistling as he saw a few famous names he recognized.

  “Haden Vron? As in the Hammer Saint?”

  The boy grinned, and Dean caught a glimpse of slightly elongated canines.

  “That’s right. There are others too, Emerald rank Adventuerers and even a few Guild masters. Beating the banshee means being immortalized as a legend forever. That’s why so many people risk it.”

  Dean’s gaze lingered on Andre as the man was helped to his feet. His helmet had come off in the fall, and his face was streaked with blood from what appeared to be a broken nose. Still, it could have ended a lot worse.

  “Has anyone ever been killed fighting that thing?”

  “Deaths are rare, but injuries can happen. I’ve seen more than a few people put out of commission for a while because their legs or arms were dislocated and broken. Usually, nothing the healers can’t fix but it’s a risk like anything else. I’m Finnegan, by the way. Finn, if you like.” He stuck out a hand, and Dean shook it.

  “I’m Dean,” he said. “Are you part Elvish?”

  Finn’s shoulders tensed, his eyes going cold and hard in an instant.

  “So what if I am. Does it bother you?”

  Dean was startled by the boy’s reaction.

  “No, I’m sorry if I offended you. It’s just… I had a friend who hailed from the night forest, and some of your features just reminded me of her, is all.”

  Finn’s posture relaxed a little.

  “You were friends with a night elf?”

  Dean grinned.

  “More like she claimed me as a friend and didn’t much care how I felt about it.”

  Finnegan chuckled.

  “That sounds about right. Eh, sorry about that. My grandmother was a half-elf, and while humans with elven lineage weren’t uncommon where I’m from, it’s not exactly widely accepted here. I’ve had more than a few tense encounters with since I arrived in this city. It seems some people have long memories about the war.”

  “Yeah, Haven isn’t the friendliest city,” Dean admitted, rubbing at the back of his neck.

  Not even to its native inhabitants.

  “It’s not all bad. I’ve wanted to be an Adventuerer for as long as I can remember, and I’m closer to that goal now then I’ve ever been. It’s good to be surrounded by like-minded individuals. Everyone here is training to earn their badge. Ah, listen to me rambling. I’m sure you want to get settled and get used to the facilities so I’ll leave you to that. It was good to meet you, Dean.”

  Finnegan clapped him on the shoulder before striding back towards a group that appeared to be waiting for him. One was a young short short-haired woman wearing light fighting leathers and a bandolier of knives. The second was short and stocky boy with a shaved head and broad shoulders. His eyes were dark and cool, and he seemed to take in everything around him with keen interest.

  He’s from one of the mountain tribes Dean realized as he took in the boy's strange, grey robes. Unlike the others, he didn’t appear to carry any gear or weapons. Dean had heard stories of the mountain tribes, tales of battle prowess and feats of training and strength. But he even in the war he had never had the opportunity to meet a real monk.

  This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

  The boy seemed to notice him looking, his slate grey eyes curious. He bobbed his head once in Dean’s direction and Dean returned the gesture, watching as Finn and his party departed the training hall.

  It seems like people travel from all over for the change to try for their badge. The competition is going to be fierce, and I’d be a fool if I thought it wasn’t a competition. Finn was right, everyone in here is training for the sole purpose of reaching that goal. To become an iron ranker, and begin their ascension.

  And he would be at a disadvantage. At least for now. Dean didn’t intend to stay behind for very long. If he wanted to compete, then he needed to put in the work. And he knew exactly how.

  Making his way through the rows of practicing and sparring registrants, Dean came to a stop in front of the large map on the wall. It was made of painted parchment and outlined every part of the province in close detail. He studied the map for a moment until he found the waypoint he was looking for. The painting of the city showed the three gates through one could enter and exit from. Beyond them were depictions of the forest and surrounding hills, complete with maps of the Grand River itself.

  At the bottom of the map was a diagram showing the forest broken into different zones.

  Zone 1 – difficulty level: low

  Zone 2 – difficulty level moderate

  Zone 3 – difficulty level medium (Should be attempted at Iron Rank)

  Zone 4 – difficult level high

  Zone 5 – difficult level, very high (Should be attempted at Bronze-Silver Rank

  Zone 6 – difficulty level extreme

  Zone 7-13 (DO NOT ENGAGE)

  Dean committed the zones to memory as he scanned the map. For someone without a badge, wandering into zone 3 or higher was a surefire way to get yourself killed. He knew prospective Adventuerers would spend their time in the first zone, and maybe eventually the second if their skill was high enough. If he trained hard, he might be able to find a party to take him into a zone 2 area. But for now…

  Dean ran his finger along the map until he found an area marked with the zone 1 tag. It was somewhat off the main road, but it looked like hunters' trails crisscrossed through the area, and he knew he could use those as a waypoint.

  It would be there that he would start his journey. Turning, he strode for the doors, feeling an equal mix of excitement and trepidation swirling in his stomach.

  He had waited long enough. Now, it was time to level.

  ***

  The sun was high, and dappled sunlight shone down through the thick forest canopy, illuminating everything in a contrast of brightness and shadow.

  Dean stood on the forest trail, examining the thin sheen of viscous white string that coated the branches above him. He had spent enough time traveling and hunting with the Militia to recognize basic monster signs. Forest spiders dwelled here, but by the look of it, they were still juvenile.

  There must be a nest nearby, he thought as he scanned the area for any signs of movement. Forest spiders were a low-level mob – one he’d expect to see in zone 1. Juvenile spiders were the smallest and easiest to kill, but Dean knew he’d do well to steer clear of the nest itself.

  Movement caught his eye, and Dean’s mana sense flared as he spotted the creature scurrying down a tree trunk ten feet away. The spider was the size of a house cat with short brown hair and a round, oversized abdomen. On the side of its head, two small pouches of green liquid pulsed. Poison - something Dean knew he’d have to be careful to avoid.

  Dropping to one knee, he drew his sword as silently as possible, keeping his eyes on the small creature. A quick scan of the area with his senses told him that he and the spider were alone in this clearing. The creature hadn’t yet spotted him. Dean crept slowly from the brush, trying to avoid crushing any leaves or sticks under his boots. He managed to close the distance before the creature seemed to register that something was off.

  It turned, six dark eyes flicking towards him, but it was already too late. Dean lurched forward, thrusting his sword downward with a two-handed grip and piercing the spider through the abdomen. The blade sank in with a wet squelch, and the spider shuddered, letting out a small shriek as it died. Dean gritted his teeth, yanking the sword free.

  Thick purple blood steamed as it hit the air, and he was careful not to let the stuff land on him.

  You have slain Juvenile Forest Spider

  Dean stepped back, examining the body closely. The spider had curled in on itself in death, its legs shriveled beneath it. It hadn’t had any time to discharge its poison, leaving the sacks fully intact. Dean knelt, and a new prompt hovered over his vision.

  Spider Corpse: Do you wish to harvest?

  He selected yes, and moments later, an item appeared on the ground next to the carcass. At first glance, it appeared to be a small spider leg, but when Dean looked closer, he saw that the tip was made of a sort of hardened black carapace. It was also sharp.

  Venomous spider fang x1

  “Interesting,” he whispered, turning it over in one hand. The black tip was glistening with liquid, he could only assume was the spiders venom. He stowed it in his inventory and continued his hunt.

  His senses weren’t as honed as he was used to, but Dean knew what to look for and used that to his advantage. From what he knew every beast, monster, and creature contained a bit of essence. Only Adventurers could harvest and use that essence, but others could still sense it. It was a trick that had saved his life more than once on the battlefield.

  Sure enough, It wasn’t long before those senses tingled, alerting him to something. He focused and after a moment, he picked up on another essence signature. This time, there were two forest spiders on a nearby outcropping of rock.

  He used a similar caution, approaching at a crouch and watching where he placed his feet. The two spiders appeared to be resting in the sun, one facing away from him. He would have to be cautious here if he wanted to kill both.

  Slowly, carefully, he crept up the low side of the rock face, shifting his weight to allow him range of motion. There was nothing but the sound of birds and chirping insects and the rustle of hairy spider legs as the one nearest him shifted. Dean tightened his grip on his sword, trying to measure the distance from one of the spiders to the other.

  Then he swung his sword. Purple blood splattered the rocks as he sheared the first spider in half and went for the next. The first had died instantly, but the second spider was much faster. It reacted quickly, narrowly avoiding getting skewered by the tip of his sword as it scurried backwards.

  It reared back on its hind legs, and the poison pouches on the side of its head swelled. Dean threw himself sideways, nearly losing a grip on his sword as he managed to roll. Green poison splashed the rocks where he had been moments before, sizzling and burning finger-sized furrows in the rock. Seeing its attack fail, the forest spider decided to flee. It folded its legs beneath itself and rolled sideways off the rock.

  Dean cursed as he sprinted to the edge of the rock and watched it scurrying away. This was where things got tricky. If the spider made it back to the nest, then it would have time to alert it’s larger and more dangerous brethren. It was a risk he didn’t want to take, especially when he was this under leveled. Cursing himself for being too slow, Dean jumped down in pursuit. The spider was fast, scurrying over rocks and lichen, but Dean’s longer legs quickly closed the distance.

  The spider sensed his approach and attempted to dodge. It leapt into the air and straight into Dean’s downward strike.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” he growled as the two halves of the spider fell to the ground with a meaty thud. He was breathing hard, but he still felt the surge of satisfaction when the notifications appeared before him.

  You have slain juvenile forest spider x2

  You have gained +1 in power + 1 in Agility

  It was amazing how much faster he leveled from active hunting. Agility was good, but power… power would be far more important to him in the days to come. Though it was a useful stat for anyone, power was particularly effective at gauging how strong an Adventurer’s essence-based abilities would become. In his old life, it had never mattered much, but now he new it could make all the difference in how fast he was able to ascend the ranks.

  Smiling to himself, Dean harvested each spider corpse and stowed the spider fangs in his inventory. Then he continued on. He was careful to avoid the direction in which the spider had been fleeing, as that was likely the location of the nest. It was more than likely that if the nest had a queen, it was located across the border of zone 2.

  Maybe in time I’ll try to clear it. But I’d be a fool to attempt it alone in my current state.

  Instead, he took the time to track down two more Juveniles. Using caution and stealth, he killed them both and harvested their fangs.

  He was kneeling, wiping the acidic spider blood off his blade on a soft patch of moss when it happened.

  Dean’s mana sense flared, but this time was different. The feeling was sudden, strong, and Dean reacted almost without thinking. Rolling sideways, he came up in a defensive stance, his sword raised in front of him to confront…. Nothing?

  His heart was racing as he scanned the forest around him, looking for any sign of danger. But his eyes spotted nothing out of the ordinary.

  “The hell?” muttered Dean, half relaxing his stance. Had it been a fluke? Maybe he was just on edge. This was technically his first hunt in this life, and his new body, or old body he supposed, was not yet accustomed to his instincts.

  Still, I could have sworn I felt something.

  He was about to sheathe his sword when movement caught his eye. It was subtle, no more than a flicker, but Dean recognized it for what it was.

  About fifty feet away a patch of tall grass was moving, whipping as if in a powerful breeze. But there was no breeze. His senses flared anew, leaving no doubt in his mind the level of the threat. Whatever it was it was moving quickly. And it had come in the direction of border of Zone 2.

  Dean’s heart began to thud in his chest as he realized the danger. He took a step backward, then stopped.

  The way it’s moving…It’s far too fast for me to outpace it even if I did run. And putting my back to a Zone 2 threat sounds like a good way to die.

  Instead, Dean backed up, keeping his eyes on the fast-moving grass as something zigzagged towards him. He stopped when he felt the rough bark of a tree at his back. He wouldn’t run, not unless he had no other choice. Keeping his eyes locked on the threat, Dean lifted his sword and took up a defensive stance.

  The tall grass rustled, brush shaking as something scurried out of if. Dean stared at the small juvenile forest spider skittering across the ground towards him and nearly laughed.

  A spider? Well, that’s not so-

  A flash of white blurred in his vision and a shadow fell over the clearing as something enormous bounded forward. Dean jerked backwards, as a wolf larger than any he had ever seen leapt towards the spider. It was nearly the size of a bear, with shaggy white fur and a pair of long canines that protruded from its maw. It landed on the spider with unnatural grace, sinking its teeth into the creature and whipping its head back and forth. Purple gore sprayed as the spider was rent in two.

  The wolf threw back its head, tossing a bloody half of a spider into the air and opening its jaws. With a loud, wet gulp, it swallowed the piece whole.

  Beast Class: Dire Wolf

  Tier: Alpha

  Alpha? Dean’s pulse was hammering in his ears as he realized exactly what he was up against. This was no common animal. It was rare to see a Beast so close to a city, especially an Alpha Beast. Like Adventurers, Beasts, and Monsters, sometimes possessed the ability to feed on essence. For that alone, they could be incredibly dangerous, especially if they were older.

  A Creature like this shouldn’t be anywhere near a Level 1 zone. What the hell is going on?

  The wolf licked its bloody lips, turning its eyes on Dean. The feeling that came over him was sudden and powerful. The moment those luminescent silver eyes hit him, he felt his body grow rigid. It was as if his muscles had frozen completely, stuck in place.

  He struggled internally, willing his legs and arms to respond to his will, but his limbs remained stubbornly frozen.

  What is this? Some sort of paralysis?

  Slowly, the wolf lowered its jaws, never breaking eye contact with him as it lapped at the spider's remains. Acidic purple blood steamed on its maw, but the beast hardly seemed affected. Dean knew if he stayed here, he would die. And yet, his body refused to respond to him.

  Sweat beaded on his forehead as he strained, glaring at the beast as it rose from its haunches. It opened its jaws, letting out a low, deep growl. Dean felt the vibration in his chest as dread swept through him. Mind racing, he forced himself to analyze the situation.

  Come on I’ve run into something like this before. On the battlefield some Demons can use dread effects, debuffs meant to slow or panic their enemies. This beast is no demon but maybe…

  The wolf raised it’s head, silver gaze still pinning him in place.

  It’s the eyes! realized Dean. That stare. It has some sort of intimidation effect… that’s what’s causing the paralysis.

  This was no demonic ability… it was a hunting method. Some evolved predators could use abilities to stun prey, pinning it in place with fear and rendering it helpless. And this dire wolf had been evolved through essence consumption.

  But it made a mistake when it targeted me. I’m not helpless, nor am I prey.

  Gritting his teeth, he forced his rapid breathing to slow.

  The wolf rose from its haunches, stalking towards him without hurry. How many other Adventurers had it killed this way, he wondered. Judging by the lack of weariness in the creature, he thought he might know the answer.

  Dean forced the thought back, forcing himself to focus on his breathing. In and out. In and out. His heart rate began to slow. The giant wolf stalked ever closer, it’s black claw unsheathed and dripping with spider blood. Claws that could tear him to shreds if he let them.

  Breathe.

  The wolf flicked a red tongue across it’s lips, letting out a snarl of intent as it began to charge forward. It was huge, and the closer it got the more apparent it’s size was. But Dean had faced down much larger creatures before. Compared to a charging minotaur wielding a cursed axe, this was nothing.

  It was a lie, of course, but one Dean needed to tell himself. Because he knew his next action might be among the most reckless he’d ever taken. Dean sucked in a breath, feeling the cool forest air fill his lungs. Then, like a madman, he closed his eyes. He could still hear the sound of snarling, the creak of knife-sized claws digging into the turf. But it was what he didn’t feel that caught his attention.

  The creeping cold paralysis halted. Feeling returned to his fingers… then his hands and feet. He flexed his hand around the blade of his sword even as he stretched out his senses.

  There. He could feel it now – the essence signature before him. It was faint, as the creature seemed to possess the ability to cloak itself. But it couldn’t hide from him.. at least not entirely. The beast rushed towards him and he felt its essence signature swell as it lunged.

  Dean didn’t falter. Against his own screaming instincts, he stepped towards the danger. Raising his sword he dropped into a defensive stance, bracing for impact. With his free hand, he reached into his inventory, his hand closing around what he’d been seeking. Dean opened his eyes right as the beast dove for him.

  One minute he was standing, the next he was tossed backwards, back slamming into the ground. He grunted as the weight hit him, but Dean didn’t hesitate. Angling the sword upward, he felt the impact as the wolf’s momentum hurled itself unto his sword. The blade bit deep and the wolf snarled, it’s teeth snapping inches from his face.

  Dean jerked his head to the side, teeth clenched against the pain. The wolfs claws dug into his shoulder, ripping cloth armor and sending lines of pain shooting down his arm. He couldn’t hold it, not with the weight and the grip of his sword slippery from the wolf’s blood.

  Now. It has to be now.

  Letting out a battle cry, Dean shifted his weight, bring his free arm up and around. The sharpened tip of the spider's fangs slammed into the wolf’s jaw. The creature jerked back, wrenching the spider fang from his grasp. But it was too late. The creature stiffened as the venom hit its bloodstream.

  Dean felt the weight on top of him disappear as the wolf stumbled backwards. Blood and spit foamed from its jaw as the venom did its work. In small doses, it was a mild paralytic – one that would cause numbness and dysfunction in most humans. But an injection in the head or neck? That was a different story.

  The beast gave a long shudder before collapsing on the ground, wheezing as Dean approached. Blood coated his blade as he came to a stop, staring down at the creature. Those silver eyes met his, but this time the effect was dimmed.

  “You fought well,” he said. He was panting still, sweat dripping down his forehead. “But this time you picked the wrong foe.”

  The wolf tried to struggle, baring its teeth at him as he stepped forward, but Dean ignored it. Raising the blade in both hands, he lined up his strike. The venom effect wouldn’t last forever. Then he drove the sword downward into the wolf’s heart. The creature slumped, its eyes growing distant as it died.

  Dean released the sword and took a step back, still breathing hard. Then he began to laugh. It had felt like ages since he had last faced down death… but in reality, it hadn’t been long at all.

  I shouldn’t be alive, He thought as he stared up at the sky. And yet, he’d managed to do what even a party might have struggled with. Was it just pure luck? Or perhaps something else?

  You have slain Dire Wolf Alpha

  You have gained +3 strength

  You have gained + 2 agility

  You have gained + 2 power

  You have gained + 1 resilience

  Dean’s laughter eventually died down, and he wiped his eyes. Luck or not, the experience he’d just gained was far more than he would have received culling small mobs.

  Dean pulled his sword free and stared down at the corpse before him. Even in death, the wolf was massive, easily the size of a small wagon by his estimate. And that fur… bright as fresh snow in sunlight. It had to be worth something.

  Do you wish to Harvest?

  He stared at the prompt for a moment before selecting yes. On the ground before him, several items seemed to appear. His heart accelerated as he read through the list of what he’d gained. His eyes snagged on the final item.

  Alpha Dire wolf pelt

  Alpha dire wolf fang x2

  Common Bracers of Sundering

  Minor Essence shard x1

  He’d harvested his first ever essence shard. He turned it over in his hand, examining its many facets in the sunlight. It was small, no larger than his thumb, and it looked like a cross between a diamond and a sapphire. Deep within its core he could feel the essence within… pulsing like a little heartbeat.

  So this is it. The source of all Adventurers’ power.

  Dean knew If he tried to consume it now, it would likely kill him. Non Adventuerers bodies weren’t conditioned to process raw essence, and to the average human it was as good as poison. But once he manifested his class and earned his Iron Badge, he would learn how to safely consume it. Dean stowed it in his inventory along with the pelt and fangs. That left the drop he had received.

  The bracers looked simple enough. They were made of dark, sturdy leather, with metal studs along the top and sides to protect the user's arms. When he examined them, information appeared in a small text box in his vision.

  Common Bracers of Sundering: Provides +8 increase to all slashing and stabbing damage. + 13 armor

  “Damage increase,” he muttered, pulling them on and tightening the fasteners. They fit well, as if they had been made for him, and after a few experimental swings of his sword, Dean was already used to the weight. He was about to rise when another notification stopped him in his tracks. It was different than before. For one, the box was blue, not black, and the text that appeared there was written in an elegant, slanted script. Dean squinted at the words.

  You have received an inherited trait. Do you wish to accept?

  He furrowed his brows, glancing around himself to double-check that the clearing was still empty. There was no sign of enemies, and his mana sense gave no warning indications of trouble. Inherited Trait? In his time as a soldier, he’d never heard of that. There were proficiencies, both minor and major, and specialized skills within the manifested class. but traits? That was entirely new to him. Wiping a fleck of blood of his cheek with his sleeve, Dean let his fingers hover over the accept button. The strange text box seemed to glow when it came into proximity with his skin.

  Alright he thought, cracking his neck. Let’s see what-

  The second he selected the accept button, his world went dark. Only long years of training in harsh conditions kept him from panicking. Dean’s heart slammed in his rib cage as he staggered in the strange darkness. His first terrifying thought was that he’d gone blind. He rubbed at his eyes, but that seemed to make no difference. Right when he was on the verge of losing his composure, his vision returned. It was fuzzy at first, blurred as if seen through a cloudy pane of glass.

  Then it all snapped into focus. Dean blinked, the buzzing sound in his head fading to a low hum.

  Trait Inherited: Killing Intent level 1 of 3. A visual trait that grants the user the ability to slow and stun his or her enemies with a single stare. As long as the stare remains unbroken, this effect will stay in place.

  Dean lifted his sword blade, the metal reflecting the light. For a moment, he hesitated. Then he looked at his own reflection. His face was the same as he remembered. A thin nose and mouth, a square jaw and a mane of short, shaggy brown hair. But his eyes… eyes that had always looked like his mothers were different. The burning silver gaze of the wolf stared back at him, so intense that his eyes looked like liquid metal.

  Even as he stared, the effect began to fade, and he was left staring at his own wide-eyed expression.

  It was a powerful ability, not one he would have expected before he manifested a class. A drop like this had to be one in a million. So why him? Why now? Dean decided it didn’t matter. He needed power, and gaining strength was his first priority.

  While he was out here grinding, the enemy was planning. The Spear Saint was being worshiped as a hero while he planned to betray mankind to their greatest enemy. There was no time to waste. So Dean tore a strip from the bottom of his shirt and used it to bind the claw wound on his shoulder. It stung as he tightened the knot, but the bleeding at least had slowed to a stop.

  Then he turned back to the forest.

  “Alright,” he said, flipping his sword in his hand. “It’s time to see what this can really do.”