Eight 2: The Way of the Hunter, A LitRPG Adventure

That evening I was scolded by Billisha and given a long, teary lecture on the importance of preserving my life, which in turn inspired Aluali to redouble his efforts to secure a promise from me to not take chances when hunting. Bihei didn’t add to their pleading, but the haunted look in her eyes spoke volumes.

The thing is, they knew it was impossible for me not to take risks. I lived—we all lived—in a dangerous world. There wouldn’t always be time to prepare for and minimize the risks. I’d do my best, but life made no guarantees. Sometimes danger came like a knife in the dark. There’d be only the barest warning—a glimmer of moonlight on the blade—before one was thrust into a life-and-death struggle.

The kids knew that. It was just they’d been given a scare, and the pleading was their reaction to it. So I told them how much I loved them, and how much I’d do my best to keep coming home to them. I made no promises, though. They’d be too hard to keep. The hunt for the kalihchi bear had made that clear. Not every hunt would go to plan.

Billisha and Aluali knew that too—hells, even Bihei did—but I couldn’t stand the fear in their eyes when they looked at me. So, I told them about Yuki. Honestly, the decision was overdue. The cat was out of the bag anyway, and the kids were much more responsible than I’d ever been at their age. It’d reassure them to know I was never alone when hunting and that I had a powerful friend with me wherever I went.

The expressions on the kids’ faces when I explained about the intelligent lichen living inside me—the shock and incredulity—was absolutely magnificent. It was criminal that I didn’t have a camera. Gods, their surprise was so satisfying, like there was a little dad engine inside me getting fed the best fuel.

Yuki was anxious to get started and sprouted from my hands. Their tendrils waved as if to greet the family. May we?

I sent an affirmation, and Yuki separated a piece of themselves. They carefully picked their way down to the floor and approached the kids. It was a measure of the children’s trust in me that they didn’t back away.

“Yuki wants to say hello, but they’ll understand if you don’t want to.”

The kids looked at each other, doing that nonverbal communication thing they did with their eyes, but it was Bihei who stepped forward first.

“I… I’ll do it.”

She put on a brave face, but I could tell she was nervous when she picked Yuki up. Although, it was only a moment later when her face softened. “Oh,” she said, and bit her lower lip. Her eyes teared up.

What did you say to her? I asked.

How much we—Ollie/Yuki/Eight—appreciate everything she’s done. How we consider her to be family along with Billisha and Aluali.

Well, that was the truth, wasn’t it? Bihei had become a surrogate mother to the children, and while she was sometimes awkward with me, her care was evident in the details, the neat little stitches that bound our lives together. There was no way I wouldn’t reciprocate.

After that, Billisha and Aluali wanted turns, and damn it—the wonder, the sheer amazement, in their eyes when talking to Yuki was such that I gnashed my teeth and wanted a camera even more. Then their eyes got even bigger when Yuki and I explained about Sun-on-Snow, and I had to promise them a meeting with the blynx.

All the while, the dad engine inside me blissfully hummed.

Later, when everyone was asleep, I lay in bed still awake. The children were huddled beside me, the soft susurration of their breathing tickling my cheeks. Bihei had forgone her own bed that night and slept on the other side of Aluali. Her hand reached past him, though, and lay on my arm, almost as if to keep track of me.

I was tired and bone weary, but every time I started to fall asleep, the memory of how close I’d come to dying jolted me awake. In my mind’s eye, I kept seeing the kalihchi bear, his snout penetrating my abdomen.

After the third time, a reassuring warmth filled my chest. Yuki said, Go to sleep. We’ll keep watch. No bears will sneak in while you rest.

Easier said than done, I replied. An experience like that has a way of imprinting itself on the mind, you know?

Yes, we know. Yuki said, understanding exactly how I felt, because of course they did.

We sat together for a while, the uekisheile and I, just listening to the night’s quietude. There was a part of me that restlessly wanted to worry, but I did my best to shush those thoughts.

Finally, I couldn’t help myself and opened my spirit eyes, just to take a quick look and verify the bear’s ghost wasn’t haunting me. What I found instead was a room full of ghost dogs, a pack of them lounging in and around the longhouse. They were too big to fit—each was the size of a small car—so all I saw were pieces of them poking into the building, including the most surreal of all: a tongue lolling through the wall above me.

My heart eased at the lack of bears in the longhouse. I could hear the dogs panting, though, which gave me pause. Then, when I looked for Tenna’s Gift—for the shield that was supposed to protect every living thing from the dead—I found a hole in mine centered over my new scar, the place where I’d tried to hold my guts inside my body. I shuddered at the memory, and my hands must’ve tensed, because the kids stirred in their sleep. Neither woke, though, and I took a breath to steady myself.

The ghost dogs in the longhouse glanced over at the bed, and the one above my head came the rest of the way through the wall to give me an approving lick. He seemed to be of a similar breed as all the others, with a big meaty head and shoulders

I didn’t feel the tongue or any saliva—thank the gods—but there was a sensation, a faint pressure all along my face. Then, he carefully walked around the bed to lie on the ground. He along with the other dogs blocked the view of the rest of the longhouse.

When nothing else seemed to happen, I focused my attention back on Tenna’s Gift. The shield was as thin as I’d ever seen it, but over time it slowly thickened and the hole over my stomach filled in, bit by bit. The changes were miniscule, slower than a snail, and I thought my imagination was responsible at first, but after watching carefully for a couple of hours, I was pretty sure the shield was healing itself.

I reached out to touch an intact part of the shield, and it felt like pushing at tissue paper. If I will it, can I poke a finger through? What do you think, Yuki?

While we would normally be in favor of experimenting, maybe we shouldn’t be playing too recklessly with the gods’ gifts. Especially after a near mortal injury.

Oh. Yeah. You’re probably right.

I withdrew my finger, then just watched the shield for a time. Eventually, I must’ve fallen asleep.

My dreams that night were all happy ones. Yuki—bless them—made sure of it.

The next day, I went to check on my teammates. I stopped by Haol’s longhouse first, but his wife Dena let me know that he and Tegen were out hunting. Now that I was awake, the lodge was planning a feast to celebrate the success of the King’s hunt. Fresh game would be needed for the tables.

She explained that there was a ton of bear meat on hand—literally—but it was being salted and set aside; some was to be sold in Albei and the rest was to be stored for the winter. I’d learned earlier that the meat of dusk and dawn animals was more nutritious and kept longer, so that made sense to me.

Dena and I chatted for a while, and I was glad to learn that Haol was well. He’d come through the fight unharmed. The same couldn’t be said for Tegen, who’d had a collarbone and several ribs broken. He’d recovered well enough though, thanks to the healing he’d received and his own Nature’s Spring spell.

Next, I stopped by Teila’s longhouse. She had helped crew the first-aid station, well away from the fighting, and she looked perfectly healthy when I saw her.

She wasn’t as strong as me, yet Teila still managed to pick me up and spin me around. Then she lectured me for ten minutes straight about the importance of following the plan and sticking with the team and not running off on my own like Aku the Wild Child.

I tried to beg off when her grandmother came out to invite me for tea and a bite to eat, but Teila wouldn’t let go. I could’ve broken free, of course, but after seeing how worried she’d been for me, I caved and let myself be dragged inside.

After tea and corn cakes with Teila and her grandmother, I went to the Hunter’s Lodge. Villagers greeted me as I walked past. A few stopped to talk, but they were mostly the folks I hadn’t run into yesterday.

At the lodge, Mumu sat at the desk near the front door, while Kesa and Inleio supervised the flensing of the kalihchi bear’s fur out back. A row of hunters carefully scraped bits of flesh and fat from the hide.

The bear’s fur was in terrible condition from the fight, yet it was valuable enough to be worth the effort. Even if the fur couldn’t be sold, hunters wanted pieces to warm their beds or to fashion clothing from it. Given that the fur was already patchwork, they had cut it up into sections to make the tanning process easier.

I watched the work and did my best to contain my anticipation. With a quest complete, there should be rewards, right? Even if the quest is a metaphorical one.

Kesa glanced my way. “Little Eight, if you sigh one more time, I’m going to—well, a hunter must be patient. The more you wiggle, the more I’ll delay handing over your share of the bounty.”

Am I that transparent?

“Besides,” Kesa said, a corner of her mouth turning up, “we’re waiting on Imsiikila.”

On the other side of her, Inleio chuckled.

I felt restless just standing there, but my offer of help was firmly refused. The hunters told me that recovering after a big hunt was almost as important as the preparations leading up to it.

About twenty minutes later Uncle Kila finally arrived. I’d been listening for his voice and heard him greeting Mumu inside.

“Imsiikila—”

“—is here. Yes, I hear him too, Little Eight.” Kesa shook her head, but she said, “Let’s go.”

I practically dashed inside to greet Uncle Kila. I wasn’t alone either. There weren’t many hunters at the lodge that day—most were out in the forest hunting for the feast—but those that were, gathered around.

Uncle Kila was in a jolly mood. He had a big smile on his face, and his shoulders shook when he laughed. His mood was infectious. The hunters smiled with him, and their eyes were eager. It was a good sign when the merchant representing your wares was in a happy mood.

Kila gave me a wink, then told the hunters to sit and make themselves comfortable. He cleared his throat and said, “Now, I know you’re all in a hurry to hear what I have to say, so I won’t make a speech of it.” He pulled out a sheet of paper and read aloud the amounts and weights of various bear parts, along with their estimated value.

Not many of the hunters could add without using their fingers or tokens, but they didn’t need to. The list was long, and the size of the numbers big enough that they knew the total would be impressive. It didn’t even include the value of the golden slumber—that would be determined separately in negotiations with the Alchemist’s Lodge.

“And,” Uncle Kila said, “because Banan and Kuros ran from the hunt, the Albei team’s share will be reduced. The same is true for their sponsor, Ghitha. The forfeited shares will be split between the hunters who continued to fight. Also, the teams who fought the bear directly will be given a double share.”

Every hunter who had participated in the hunt was already guaranteed a small gold coin from Ghitha’s pocket, and now there was this good fortune too? The hunters were all smiles.

No wonder Ghitha was panicked-angry-desperate. He’d counted on the eilesheile to fund the hunt, but in the unlikely event that he couldn’t find their cave, his sponsor’s share of the bear’s parts was needed to make up the difference. Now that his share was reduced though, his remaining wealth would be completely wiped out. Banan’s team had sucked him dry.

“That’s amazing, Little Pot!” Mumu jostled me from my thoughts. “Five antaak, you earned five!”

What? Five?

Yuki filled in the part I’d missed while distracted by my thoughts. Half a gold coin for participating in the hunt. Another half for its success. Two gold for the sale of parts—that’s a double share—and another two for landing the killing strike. That’s five.

Oh, that’s good. Very good. Well, it wasn’t like I lacked for money, but this influx meant I could buy the bear’s core as I’d intended. It wasn’t cheap either. During his recitation, Uncle Kila had told the hunters it was worth ten gold coins.

I’d have to dip into the money I had reserved for taxes, and also borrow an antaak from Mumu, but I was sure she’d be willing. I’d easily be able to pay her back from my share of the golden slumber sale when it came in, plus the profits from when I started trading eilesheile in earnest.

I caught Uncle Kila’s eye, and he nodded. He tilted his head and directed my attention to a young man who looked like a smaller, thinner version of him holding a strongbox. I gestured to the ritual room, and Uncle Kila nodded again.

Uncle Kila brought the strongbox and Mumu along with him. She seemed almost as excited as I was—and for good reason: the core inside the strongbox was enormous, the size of an American football.

The core’s surface shone in the fire’s light, dark with ribbons of silver gleaming. It was heavy too, but with a weight that wasn’t entirely physical. The core drew the eye and made it hard to look away.

The darklight had been treated to preserve it, but I smashed the core open and let the darklight dissipate. I heard pained gasps from both Kila and Mumu, but I knew that I didn’t want to participate in the darklight trade. There was too much potential for suffering.

Mumu’s disappointment must not have lasted long. “I’ve never seen so much silverlight in one place before,” she whispered.

There were chunks bigger than my fingers. I picked one up and asked Yuki, You ready?

Whenever you are, they said.

The silverlight wouldn’t affect my qi directly, but we hoped the bear’s experiences would inform our attempts in mastering lightning qi. Yuki and I were of like mind: both of us would be paying exquisite attention to what came next.

I intended to absorb the pieces one at a time, but all the silverlight melted at once. A flash of frigid cold entered my hands and flowed into my arms and chest. An enormous, overwhelming pressure descended upon my heart; it felt like an attempt to displace me from my body.

I let slip a barking kind of laughter, then watched with amusement as the feeling of domination crashed against me. My sense of self was immovable and inviolate; the tide of leftover soul scum couldn’t harm me, especially when I also had Yuki to watch over and protect me.

The silverlight’s wake left images of the forest, of trampling its inhabitants and taking their land. There was fire in the sky and a matching fire within, the two in harmony. The feeling of power, of it filling my body to the brim, was immense.

The experience lasted a full two minutes, with alternating waves of cold and fire running through me. I shook from the intensity, and it culminated in a memory. It was one I shared with the kalihchi bear: the leap from the top of the escarpment.

The two memories ran in parallel. From the bear’s perspective, he exalted as he subsumed himself in the lightning storm. From mine, I sat in the Lion’s Cave while the bear amidst the lightning burned itself into my vision.

The bear had made a breakthrough that day, and it now spilled over into me and Yuki. Three different notifications popped up:

My breath steamed as I sighed. I felt stronger, and the energy inside me was electric.

Yuki?

Instead of answering, they laughed—not quite maniacally, but damn close—and pulled lightning qi into my meridians. Then I started laughing too. The energy spun through me in cycles almost too fast for me to grasp.

Yuki snapped Dog’s Agility instantly into place for me. A moment later, they dropped the spell and replaced it with Camouflage and Scentless Hunter just as quickly. I let go of the spells, and tried them myself. The casts weren’t as snappy as Yuki’s, but the time to spin them up was barely noticeable. Then, I sped my qi through my meridians. I could feel it recovering from the earlier spells.

It’s fast. So fast!

Yuki didn’t respond. Instead, they spiraled in my heart dantian, dancing and shimmering, in delirious happiness. All the hard work had paid off. The two of us had learned how to transform and manipulate lightning qi.

“Eight, is everything all right?” Mumu asked, her expression concerned.

“Never better,” I said. “I reached Level 4.”

“Gods of the earth,” Kila said.

“Oh, that’s incredible,” Mumu said in excitement. “Congratulations! You must be the youngest Level 4 this village has ever seen. Do you feel any changes?”

“Let me check,” I said.

I had known System-Eight’s time was limited, but his departure still caught me by surprise. I felt a sense of loss amid the elation. Having access to him and his insights had helped me stay sane and navigate through some critical decisions early on. Yes, he was a weird amalgamation of my sub and super consciousnesses, but I’d miss him anyway.

Thank you, I thought.

There wasn’t a response, but I’d expected that. So, I took a breath, then let myself get excited for what came next. That’d be the best way to honor System-Eight and all he’d done for me.

I couldn’t help giggling. It was just so satisfying to see the sweat, the blood, and the sheer effort poured into training paying off. The feeling was better than any Vegas jackpot.

Wait, my qi maximum jumped from 35 to 50. That’s a bigger increase than expected. I brought up my Status to take a look.

The first thing I noticed was that—with 3,149 silverlight—I was now a decent chunk into fourth level now. Level 5 still felt far away, though. I’d need another 3,601 silverlight, which was like almost 400 bishkawi. Or two more dusk kalihchi bears.

What a terrible thought. Hmm… there it is: a qi capacity of 50. But first, yes, it looks like Agility and Spirit are in the process of growing. It’ll only be a matter of time until they rank up, either from continued training or hitting Level 5. And the new talent…

Yes! Victory! I pumped my hands in the air. I surprised Mumu and Uncle Kila, but I couldn’t help myself. The new talent wasn’t as good as jumping to Lightning-Touched directly, but I was still over-the-moon happy.

“Eight?” Mumu asked. “Good news?”

“You could say that. Here, take a look.”

I summoned the rune for Spark and let the electricity buzz and crackle in my hand. It felt like I was holding a livewire. Then the air banged and light flashed as I sent the Spark from one hand to the other. Goosepimples rose all over my body.

The streamer sucked mana like a pig, but I maintained the flow of electricity between my hands. From the way the mana drained into the spell, it felt like four points for the original cast and… maybe… a point per second after that?

Whatever the cost, though, it was worth it. The streamer wasn’t anemic like before; now it was a thick, glowing tube of skyfire. I barely noticed Uncle Kila backing away.

“Is that…?” Mumu asked, her eyes wide.

“A new talent is affecting my Spark spell, yes.”

“By the gods, that makes six. Six talents!” Mumu whooped.

I whooped with her, and silently took pride in the fact that I actually had eight talents. The two of us laughed, drunk on joy. Even Uncle Kila’s eyes sparkled, pleased for me.

Eventually, though, we had to calm down. There were more gains to explore.

“Anything else?” Mumu asked with a wide smile.

“A gain in Strength. A good number of skill increases. And—”

Earlier, I’d figured out that the qi maximum was based on an average of Constitution and Spirit. There was a 20% increase at Levels 2, 3, and 4, plus a massive 100% increase when Yuki and I had refined my qi. That meant my new maximum should be 42. Unless—

The flavor of your qi is changing-condensing-thickening, but not slowing down at all. If anything, it’s getting faster. The meridians are heating up, so we’re draining the excess until they can adapt. Oh gods, it’s so delicious.

Waves of pleasure radiated from Yuki. They were in heaven.

“And?” Mumu asked after being left hanging.

“The well of my qi has deepened. Significantly.”

“Can you sense by how much?” Mumu asked.

If I was doing my math right, it looked like a 50% increase on top of the previous bonuses. “I should have enough to be able to cast Spiral Pierce twelve or so times in a row.”

The recovery rate has improved too, but we’ll have to test to figure out by how much. Oh! The changes seem to be affecting your mana recovery too—the qi is dragging your mana along.

Mumu shook her head in disbelief. “I’m so envious. Any hunter would be.”

“Your village grows stronger,” Uncle Kila said.

Mumu’s smile faltered. She glanced up, as if trying to see through the ceiling to the hunters working on the kalihchi bear’s hide. “We have to, always and constantly.” She looked back at me, and her smile returned. There was light in it, yet it was tempered by sadness. “And we will, all of us, grow stronger.”