Eight: A LitRPG Novel of Magical Survival

I crept toward the top of the waterfall overlooking the Glen. The trees were crowded around the stream, their roots exposed by the water. All around their trunks, bushes and shrubs fought for access. I moved through their greenery, approaching step by cautious step.

My heart raced. Sweat soaked through my shirt. I’d taken the time to weave grass between my armor’s links, so they didn’t jingle, but now my lower back itched where my shirt had been cut away.

I paused to scan my surroundings. When a crow suddenly cawed in the branches above me, I almost jumped out of my skin. He looked down at me with his black eyes.

After getting my heart under control, I kept moving. Every few steps, I scanned the area for anything out of place. It made for slow going, but it was safer. Ten feet from the edge, I got on my belly and crawled the rest of the way.

I counted eleven baboons lounging around the pool. Each was about four feet tall, with blue snouts and reddish fur. A few sat near the water grooming each other. The giant among them was big enough to need two to pick through his fur.

The deer hide lay on the ground, torn. The pile of firewood had been kicked apart and scattered across the ground. I didn’t see any of the baboons entering or exiting the cave, so my things there appeared to be safe, at least for the moment.

It was disturbing to see the baboons occupy the Glen. My home for the past three weeks had become unfamiliar. The tranquility that normally hung in the air like the waterfall’s mist had vanished with their presence.

Two of the baboons fought near the remnants of the deer hide. Their chattering was grating to my ears. I wasn’t the only one, because the giant baboon hollered and leapt over to them. He gave each a clout on the head and, with a snort, grabbed the hide to take it back to his seat to use as a cushion. Meanwhile, the two chastised baboons rubbed at where they’d been hit and went to explore the other side of the Glen.

Holy hells, that leap was almost twenty-five feet. In a fight, he’d close the distance between us in an instant. How am I supposed to deal with that?

The situation became even more grim when a baboon—number twelve, by my count—swung down from a tree south of the Glen, and another baboon picked himself up to replace him in the tree. It happened again with two more baboons—thirteen and fourteen—but this time, the trees were to the east and north.

My jaw dropped. The baboons were posting sentries. Pack animals often had members who kept watch for predators. Maybe this was a more sophisticated version of that strategy? I hoped so, because if they were intelligent, it’d be a lot harder to dislodge them from the Glen.

Unfortunately, there was no sign of Ikfael or Diriktot. I briefly considered trying another message, but didn’t want to risk the giant baboon noticing. Even from forty feet above the beast, I could feel his raw power.

I brought my phone to mind and aimed the camera. Click.

My first thought was that I wouldn’t be sending any more messages to Ikfael, at least not until the alpha was out of the Glen or asleep, since he was sensitive to spirit stuff. The rest of the talents didn’t bode well either. I was curious about the ‘Dusk’ entry, but didn’t have anything to reference it against. All I could do was to hold onto the information for now.

The others in the troop were all bishkawi, but none of them were alphas or had any mention of dusk. All had at least one talent, things like Fierce and Agile Climber, although one stood out with a talent for Hidden Strength. This last one was the smallest of the bunch, looking almost like a juvenile. Speaking of which, I don’t see any young in the troop. They’re all either adolescents or adults.

The two explorers found my plum tree and brought back armfuls for the alpha. Then the rest of the troop stormed off to strip the tree. They brought back their spoils, gobbled down the fruit, and dropped the pits where they sat.

It was a strange thing to be upset about, given the situation, but the littering really bothered me. Ikfael kept the Glen clean, and here it was, disrespected. I felt a spark of anger amid the fear.

Back behind me, the crow cawed again. It took to the air with a flap of its wings to fly across the stream and land in a tree there. I was late to understand the implications of its flight—something must’ve startled it—but when I did, I turned myself around and crawled into the nearest bush. My eyes never left the tree from which the crow flew. A moment later, the tree’s branches shook with movement.

Slowly, so slowly, I set my spear down and nocked an arrow on my bow. The branches shook again, and a bishkawi—number fifteen—poked his head clear. He ambled to the edge of the branch to peer down at the fish in the stream’s shallows.

A couple of scenarios flashed through my mind. In one, the bishkawi came to the cliff’s edge, curious about the view below. In another, he was a sentry placed to cover the west and patrolled the area. In both, the odds of me going undiscovered were small. The probability of the bishkawi leaving on his own felt even smaller.

The bishkawi looked left and right, as if readying himself to move on. The window on taking a shot while he perched precariously on the branch was quickly closing. I grit my teeth and prayed the attacks I’d been practicing would pay off.

I enchanted the bow, and the draw was smooth. The tension didn’t stack at the end as much as it usually did, which in turn would let the arrow fly with more power. I held the shot until the Cold Snap spell was ready. Thank the gods, the runes came to mind when I needed them.

Strong core. Shoulder down. I let my bones carry the weight of the draw and relaxed into the tension. Then, I released.

The arrow flew to strike the bishkawi in the side, and I shot off after it while letting my hand drop the bow and my other hand grab my spear. I plowed through the bushes to chase after the startled bishkawi falling into the stream.

The water wouldn’t keep him occupied for long. I connected my mana to the Cold Snap runes, and the spell shuddered through me into the air and toward the stream where I directed it. The water around the bishkawi’s face froze to block his throat and lock his mouth.

I infused qi into my spear and leapt from the bank onto the bishkawi. The spearhead stabbed into his belly. I pulled the spear and stabbed again. I aimed for the heart, but the spear was deflected by his ribcage.

The bishkawi thrashed in the water, his hands ripping at the ice lodged in his throat. I slipped the spearhead between his ribs and pushed with all my weight. The layer of muscle finally gave away, and the spear pierced the bishkawi’s heart. The creature struggled a moment longer before going still.

I looked around, listening for shrieks or hollers, but there was only the sound of running water. I pulled the spear free and dragged the bishkawi’s body ashore. Back on land, I opened the wound in the bishkawi’s chest and pulled out a pea-sized core, then crushed it.

I retrieved my bow and bugged out of there. None of the bishkawi had yet noticed that a member of their troop had gone missing, and I didn’t want to be anywhere nearby when they did.

Back in my hiding spot above the deer thicket, I had a decision to make.

The attack on the bishkawi sentry had gone about as well as it could. I’d been ready to cast Cold Snap on the creature’s tongue to keep him from calling his friends, but the water in his mouth had turned out to be a much better opportunity.

However it happened, I’d proved to myself that I could defeat the creatures one-on-one with guerrilla tactics. The question was, could I guarantee similarly favorable circumstances fourteen or fifteen more times? Would guerrilla tactics be enough for the alpha? Probably not, even if Ikfael made it back in time for the boss fight. After all, the two of us had struggled against the unideer, and the bishkawi were a much bigger threat, at least to my eyes.

I needed a way to equalize the odds. No, screw that, I needed to stack the odds in my favor—to eliminate the chance of the bishkawi tearing me apart like they had the deer hide. I thought about it for a while and narrowed it down to two approaches.

The first was to recruit help. My coins were likely still in the cave. If I could get to them, I might be able to hire guards or mercenaries from the town. It’d be a long shot, given my concerns about meeting the people of this world, but it was an option.

A corollary to the first approach was the possibility of recruiting unintentional help. Wouldn’t it be something if I could lure a monster to the glen to fight the bishkawi on my behalf? The idea appealed to me, but it had its own risks. Namely, I’d still have to find a way to successfully kill the survivors.

The second approach was to find a way to punch above my weight. I didn’t see my skills improving dramatically over the next few days, so the answer had to be external—something beyond what I already had or was doing. Something like poison.

I knew firsthand how dangerous that could be. All I had to do was track down where the devil vines went, kill a few, extract their venom, and find a way to store it without killing myself in the process. Okay, so that wouldn’t be as easy as I’d like, but it was still a less complicated process than getting help from people and/or monsters.

I decided to bet on simplicity and harness the power of poison to stack the odds in my favor. With the right preparation and a bit of luck, it could work; a lone guerilla could defeat a troop of baboons.

I picked my way through the thicket as I trekked back. A slope led up from the ravine in which the thicket resided, and I swung west to follow the curve of the thicket’s boundary. It didn’t make sense to pop up right where I’d left the dead bishkawi. Rather, I’d hike in from farther away to scope out the situation first, and then I’d start my search for the devil vines.

The hillside was carpeted in knee-high grass, with only a few trees standing askew. I dashed from cover to cover in a curious combination of caution and confidence. Well, maybe not so much confidence as holy-hell-please-don’t-see-me-run-through-here anxiety. My heart pounded the whole time, but the strategy worked. I climbed up to the stream’s bank without incident, and felt much better amid the thick greenery there.

Farther west, the escarpment rose high into the air, the top of the cliff lined with trees. I could hear its waterfall from my position. To the east, two bishkawi sat by the stream’s bank. One napped, his back resting against a red cedar, while the other lazily tried to catch fish with her hands. I recognized her—she was the one with the Hidden Strength talent.

The other was… click.

That’s odd. Why didn’t the camera work? I considered shifting positions to get a better view, when my target fell to the side. What a sound sleeper—he didn’t stir at all.

The smaller bishkawi looked back at him, annoyed. She ambled over to push him back upright, and he didn’t object. He… didn’t respond in any way at all. With a gasp, I realized he was dead, the same bishkawi I’d killed and left behind. They’d propped him up to make him look like he was sleeping. The two of them were bait, meant to look like easy targets.

The treetops were empty, and the bushes were clear. I didn’t see any other bishkawi. I didn’t hear anything either—only the stream gurgling past. There were no birds singing though. Something had them spooked, in an area bigger than the two visible bishkawi. I pushed down the sudden spike of fear in my belly and eased back through the bushes.

I tested every step to make sure nothing cracked or broke under my weight. Looking, listening, smelling—I used everything I had to chart a safe retreat upstream, away from the trap. My world narrowed. Time became meaningless. Ages passed, compressed into a microcosm of cautious step after step.

Ten yards. Twenty yards. I was just about to breathe easier, but then the wind shifted, carrying with it the scent of mint. The branches of the trees ahead were roped by barbed vines dotted with pink flowers. I’d found the devil vines, but there was no way for me to hunt them safely now. Worse, they blocked my retreat. I’d have to risk the hillside again.

I got on my belly to crawl through the grass. There were likely bishkawi hiding all around the area, and I couldn’t risk running. How I’d made it through the first time was a miracle. If only my luck held. I felt like a mouse sneaking past a lion. The tension wound through me, and not even being at one with the land could keep it at bay.

I was halfway down the hillside when a bishkawi’s cry sounded from the treeline above. The sound started as a chatter and morphed into a holler. Bishkawi all along the stream echoed the cry. Alarmed, I looked back and spotted a bishkawi emerging from the treeline. He headed straight for me, hollering as he ran.

More of them emerged from the bushes and trees—practically the whole troop except for the alpha. I didn’t see him anywhere and didn’t linger to look. With a grunt, I got to my feet and sprinted. The edge of the thicket was ahead, and I shot toward the thorniest, gnarliest-looking path.

Behind me, the bishkawi crashed down the hillside.

Where was I to go? The thicket would only slow the bishkawi at best. The last time I’d been chased by one, he only gave up after I found a fissure to hide in. I needed a similar refuge.

Only one came to mind: the cave near where I’d stabbed myself in the calf. The entrance was just big enough for me to fit through, but not the bishkawi with their wide shoulders. I didn’t know anything about what was inside, but the air had smelled clean, without any scent of musk, decay, or dung. It hadn’t seemed like the cave was being used as a den.

I angled southwest and ran my heart out.

A scream cut through the forest. It sounded like a bishkawi, only louder and more resonant than all the others, and it came from farther away, in the direction of the Glen. It could only be the alpha. One of the bishkawi must’ve gone to get him.

Faster. I had to go faster. With his long limbs and incredible leaps, he’d catch up to me in no time.

I’d held onto enough mana for a Healing Water, just in case, but it’d be useless in the face of a dozen bishkawi. I converted it into nature mana and infused it into my legs, along with four points’ worth of qi.

Nature mana and qi enhanced a target’s underlying qualities to make it stronger, faster, more resilient, and more robust. The result of using them on my body—it was like what I imagined jumping to hyperspace to be like. No records were actually broken, but there was a definite increase in speed. I used the enchantment to shoot ahead and snake through the thicket. I ducked under branches and clambered over fallen trees, using every trick I knew to put obstacles in the bishkawis’ way and buy myself more time.

Eventually the thicket came to an end, and I was out in the open again. I sprinted up the ravine’s side, my boots slipping on the long grass. I should’ve saved some magic for my lungs. I couldn’t suck in enough oxygen to support such a long sprint.

Above the ravine, I paused—just for a second, a quick orientation to get my bearings. As long as I kept the escarpment to my right, I’d be heading south. The bishkawi were still in the thicket, but I heard them closing the distance. Then, there was a loud crash as branches were flung aside. Must be the alpha entering the thicket.

I took off again, running between the trees. My face felt hot and blotchy. A pain stitched through my side. But to stop again was to die, so I ran. I ran my heart out, the bishkawi chasing.

The way, at least, was familiar, just shy of the area where I’d seen the moose calf killed; there, rising above, was the hillside up which the monster turkeys had gone. I spotted the cave and tacked toward it.

The enchantment on my legs ran out just as I was starting to climb upward. I nearly stumbled face first into the gravel, but I caught myself on my knuckles, scraping them across the stones until I got my feet under me again. A quick glance back showed a roiling, reddish mass of bishkawi moving through the forest.

I didn’t think I had any more adrenaline in me, but the sight of them spurred me on for one last burst.

I slid into the cave, nearly turning my ankle as I fell down onto the floor. The entrance was above me about three feet up. My spear and bow clattered against the walls. It was a narrow space, and the cave’s entrance instantly went dark as the bishkawi surrounded it. A rock slammed into the wall near my head. It shattered and sent splinters into the soft flesh of my cheek. I curled away, clambered to my feet, and retreated deeper into the cave. The tunnel echoed with bishkawi howls of rage behind me.

A resounding thump traveled through the stone, announcing the arrival of the alpha. His shriek went right through me and turned my insides to water. As far as I knew, I was safe, but I recognized that I was in the presence of a great predator. A terrible fear overwhelmed my senses. It was all I could do to stumble away, desperate to flee.

I tripped in the dark and crawled, not stopping until I found a small alcove in which to hide. I put my hands over my ears to keep out the bishkawi howls, but they raged for what felt like hours. And then finally, a loud thud echoed through the tunnel. The meager light from the cave’s entrance disappeared.

Once I’d stopped hyperventilating and regained my sense of self, I was deeply embarrassed for having lost control. A part of me wanted to ascribe my panic to some kind of magic power on the part of the alpha, but when I checked my Status, there were no abnormal conditions. The effects might’ve already passed, and I was too late in checking, but there was also a reasonable chance it was just me panicking.

That grated. I was not someone who panicked. I was not someone who lost control. So, I stood, took a breath, and walked back to the entrance to survey the situation. My steps were shaky. I stumbled on the uneven stone, but I walked undeterred.

The entrance chamber was littered with rock shards and the foul-smelling stink of bishkawi dung. They’d thrown it inside the cave. There was only a pinprick of sunlight illuminating the scene. They’d sealed me in with a boulder. I was trapped inside.

Pushing with all my might did nothing to the boulder blocking the exit. Using my spear as a lever produced the same result.

I turned in the narrow space to face the darkness. My spear was slippery in my hands. Dust and dirt clung to the sweat on my body. I wiped my eyes clear and waited. The bishkawi had made a racket, and while I didn’t think anything was using the cave as a den, now wasn’t the time to take chances.

Dust danced in the single ray of light. All I heard was my ragged breathing and my heart pounding. After a time, when nothing leapt out at me, I closed my eyes and focused on calming myself.

Inside every human being is an animal. An animal living in our back brains, responsible for keeping us alive in survival situations. Over the millennia, it served us well and kept us out of the maws of dangerous predators. Maybe nothing like the bishkawi, but certainly our world’s version of them.

Lions and tigers and bears, oh my.

I smirked at the reference. It wasn’t funny, but I needed a morale boost. I needed a reminder that people were creative and interesting—that we were more than the animals inside us. While human instincts served an important purpose, it was our minds, our higher-order thinking, that truly let us overcome obstacles. If I was to survive, I needed to think like a human being.

There had been a breeze before the exit was sealed, which hopefully pointed to another opening somewhere farther along. I gathered my courage and walked deeper into the tunnel.