Monster Hunting 401: A LitRPG Fantasy Adventure by Andrew Karevik (book suggestions .TXT) 📗

her man. “Anything he says must be understood by our people. Let me speak his words in our parlance,” she said. Her voice was sharp and stern. Perhaps that marriage proposal was just a way to secure power in the new order of her tribe. Her grip on her new beloved seemed a bit more controlling than tender. Well, that certainly wasn’t my problem. At least, not for now anyway.

I shrugged and looked back at Trig. “Two days. If I don’t come back, that’s the signal to start thinking a way to get everyone home. Including the Vessel.” I paused once more and took a breath, hoping he understood what I was about to say. “You can’t save everyone. I’m not expecting you to. The goal is to save the most amount of people possible, emphasis on the word possible. Understand?”

Trig nodded, as did his wife. They both shared the same weary, haggard expression of those who had seen the gates of oblivion. Kindred spirits, in a way. Hopefully they would be able to keep everyone here safe. But if not…well, I hoped to at least see Trig again.

We said our goodbyes and I strolled into the woods, regular fire torch in hand, as well as a few of Trig’s flare gizmos. All I had to do was twist the middle of the explosive, and it would go off in a few seconds, illuminating 100 feet around me for up to an hour. Very useful in a dark, cruel place like the Shadewood.

I left through the main path, wanting to see the crab beasts for myself. Indeed, just as Trig had said, they were lined up at the edge of the village, where the light of the green torches barely touched. Their heads followed me as I walked past, weapon drawn and waiting for action. But they did not strike me. As I passed, their heads turned back towards the village. Focused. Silent. Waiting on a command.

You are wounded, the Vessel called out to me as I made my way through the forest, searching diligently for a sign of the Titan’s core. You are in no shape to be hunting.

The Masara captain wasn’t wrong. My knee injury was still hurting pretty bad, and we still didn’t really have the tools to fix the core issue. If we didn’t have an army of beasts waiting to break into the camp, I’d at least try and head out to Brimley’s alone, to see if he had some alcohol that could sterilize our surgical tools. But time was too precious. I’d just have to keep pushing, consequences be damned.

I didn’t respond to the Vessel. Telepathy required a charm equipped, and right now I had my extra strength, combined with the Glurp’s amorphous ability. Being slow meant I’d have to worry about getting hit. Without weak points, my body could tank just about any blow easily enough. At least, from a giant class creature.

Your silence is indicative of your determination, the Vessel continued. Refusing to equip the charm and speak to me. To agree or argue. You fight for a pod that is not your own. You risk everything for their safety. Their survival. A curious trait.

I couldn’t tell whether he was admiring my choices or looking down on them. But I shook his voice out of my head, focusing instead on the large tree in front of me. A bird’s-eye view had helped me before, had it not? And with that Gliding ability from the Griffin, I could leap fairly high and soar around the area, scouting from atop the forest instead of on a ground level approach.

I leapt up the first branch, my legs carrying me upwards easily enough. But the landing caused a tremendous amount of pain to shoot my bad leg.

“Come on!” I gasped, leaning against the trunk of the tree, trying to get stable. I had potions, regeneration powers and medical knowledge, but all of it was useless because my own damn attack had been so strong. My health dropped down by 2%. Not enough to make me reconsider everything, so I pushed the pain aside and jumped once more.

Landing this time was like kneeing a dagger right in the point. My leg buckled and I found myself staggering, hands on the thick branch holding me.

Sensing the agony I was in, the Quiverling was quick to scurry into my bag and pull out the Wyvern charm. The charm that could give me the power to fly. Aspect of the Wyrm was powerful. A minute of flight time, more than enough to charge out of the darkness and into the light. Combined with the Griffon charm, I could actually boost upwards way higher than my jump speed and glide around, searching for the target.

The only problem here was…well, the anguish the charm had caused me last time. Shudders ran down my spine as memories came flooding back to me. The rippling sensation in my back, the way my flesh contorted and twisted, then the tearing of my flesh to give way to wings, wings that I could feel as if they were my own hands. I had vowed to never use such a charm again. My handler had tried her damndest to get me to rescind that vow.

Now it would seem that I had a choice to make. I could try climbing my way up, but with a knee that was more or less useless. I could continue leaping until the arrow in my knee finally severed something important, or… I could suck it up and use the charm. Endure the horror of transformation one more time, for the sake of the village, for the sake of the Masara and for the sake of everyone back home.

“Damn you, Jenevive,” I muttered, taking off my weakness charm and exchanging it for the Great Wyrm’s tooth. “And damn you too, Quiverling.” I took a deep breath and activated the flight ability.

That hideous pain, the twisted, contorting transformation that came to me in