Skill Hunter: A LitRPG Adventure, page 16
Ike crouched in the reeds, careful to keep himself dry so his scent wouldn’t spread, and watched, waiting. He wore his bag on his back and his axe at his hip, ready for anything. The bag he’d emptied in Silver’s house, leaving all the gear tucked into a cabinet. He wasn’t going to camp this far from the wall. If the owl didn’t come, he’d turn back.
Twilight deepened to full night. The moon rose. The deer left, and a fox crept up to the waterline. It lapped up some water, then abruptly stiffened and fled. All the bugs grew quiet, leaving only the babble of the stream.
Ike turned his eyes to the sky. It’s coming.
A shadow passed over the moon. Spreading its wings wide, an owl two, no, three times as tall as Ike swooped down and swiped at the little pond. A blue light emerged from its talons, knitting into a net under the water. It beat its wings, dragging the net with it as it climbed into the air. A dozen fish thrashed in the net.
Ike waited a few moments, holding his breath. The owl retreated from whence it came. When it was far enough away that he was sure it wouldn’t hear, he jumped up and chased after it. It has to land somewhere to eat the fish. When it lands, I’ll have a much better chance against it. Right now, his only ranged skill involved operating his Lightning Dash until lightning struck. As wary as the owl was, he didn’t think it would stand around and wait for him to run laps under it.
As he ran, operating Lightning Dash at a low level, he practiced his lightning forearm technique. It hadn’t appeared in his list a skill yet, which meant he hadn’t perfected the mana flows enough for the System to recognize it. Holding the forearm skill took twice the mana that Lightning Grasp or Lightning Dash did. Even managing a few seconds of the forearm skill absorbed almost all his mana.
Once I kill this owl, I’m going to go back to that pool and practice the forearm technique until it becomes a skill. The pool gave off enough mana that he could replenish the mana the forearm technique used at a reasonable rate.
The owl dipped its wings and dropped toward the ground. Ike fell back, dropping behind a tree. He peeked around it.
Up on the hill, the owl sat atop a giant mess of bones. Deer bones, fish bones, even human bones all mixed together in the pile. It dropped its net into the center of the pile and settled beside it, snapping the fish down whole one after another. After it swallowed the last fish, it sat there for a while. Big round eyes gazed into the distant forest.
Ike squinted, peeking around the tree just long enough to confirm it was still there. What’s it waiting for?
Abruptly, the owl kicked its head back. It made a series of horrible coughing noises, then pitched forward. It ejected a pellet of fish scales and bones onto the top of the pile.
It eats the bones but can’t digest them, so it needs to spit them out. Until it does, it probably can’t move very well. Ike darted back behind the tree, pinching his chin as he worked on a plan. From the size of the pile and the variety of its contents, it came back to this location every night, regardless of whether it visited Silver’s pond or not.
I can use that. No… Ike eyed the pile. I can use all of it.
The owl flew off, back into the sky. Ike waited. When he was sure it had left, he snuck over to the pile. A skull stared him in the eyes, a grim reminder of the fate that might await him. Ike glanced at it, then away. I won’t end up like that.
He picked up deer hooves, hide, and bones from the edge of the pile, careful not to disturb the main pile. With the vast quantity of remains before him, he had no problem finding all the materials he needed. He stuffed his bag full, then retreated into the darkness.
My time at my uncle’s plant isn’t for nothing. I’ve seen them make this before from castoff monster pieces.
If I pull this off, it’ll ground the owl and block its biggest weapons at the same time. The owl is as good as dead.
The next day, Ike poked his head in Silver’s cave. “I need a pot. A big pot.”
Silver squinted at him. “Don’t cook your owl before it’s caught.”
“Big pot,” Ike repeated. Silver doesn’t like explaining things to me? Ha. Two can play that game.
Silver stared at him for another few beats, then shrugged. He knelt and drew a deep pot out from a cabinet that shouldn’t have been able to fit it. “Pot.”
“Thank you.” Ike took the pot. He eyed the small cabinet, then shrugged. Probably some kind of skill or something.
Outside, Ike filled the pot from the stream. Carrying the heavy pot, he found a nice, dry spot away from the water and the trees and set it on the ground. He built a fire around the pot, then lit it with his flint and tinder. Once the water was boiling, Ike tossed his prizes into the pot. Hooves, hides, and bone marrow rained down into the pot.
As the materials boiled, a horrible acrid stench filled the air. Ike lowered his cloth from his hair to cover his nose and mouth. It did little to help, but it was better than nothing.
Silver pushed the ivy aside and glared from the mouth of his cave. “Stop that.”
“Huh? I thought you wanted me to catch the owl,” Ike said.
“Making a hideous stench isn’t going to catch it,” Silver countered, narrowing his eyes behind his glasses.
“Ah, that’s right! Silver, do you have more of those scent-suppressing herbs? I could use them right now.”
Silver narrowed his eyes. “Is this going to kill the owl?”
Ike nodded. “It should.”
He stared at Ike, then shook his head and vanished back into the cave. He emerged a few moments later with a different set of herbs in hand. “Those are good for suppressing a living being’s scent. These are good for suppressing stenches.”
“Thank you.” Ike took the herbs. He gazed into the roiling water, then shook his head. “I’ll add them later.”
Silver’s eyes all but bugged out of his head. “Add them now.”
Ike glanced at Silver. “If it bothers you, go upwind.”
Silver scowled at him. “This fool…” He shook his head and walked away, vanishing into the forest.
The pot boiled down. Ike stirred it with a stick, pulling the stick out to check the consistency. A wet, soft gloop plopped back into the pot. Ike nodded. We’re close. He dropped the herbs into the thick paste and stirred. The herbs melted into the paste, and the stench diminished down to a meaty, bestial stink. Not nothing, but not the horrible reek of earlier, either.
Ike nodded. “Excellent.” He pulled the pot off the fire and kicked dirt over the embers. He waited for the pot to cool, then tied it to his back and set off into the forest a second time.
At the owl’s bone pile, he checked the trees and all the sky but saw nothing. If the owl was around, it wasn’t watching its bones. And why would it? This is essentially its trash pile. It has no reason to guard this.
Ike climbed to the top of the bone pile. Looking around, he positioned himself about where the owl had stood the previous night, then took the pot off his back. He slung the paste over the top of the bones. The thick paste lay atop the tight-knit pellets, only sinking in where gaps opened up in the pile. As it spread, it thinned and turned more transparent.
Wiping his brow, Ike looked over his trap. He twisted his lips, then shrugged and pushed his cloth back up to his hair. All that’s left is to see if it works.
He tied the pot back onto his shoulders and set off again. Back at Silver’s cave, he washed out the pot.
Silver came out of his hut and looked down at him. “Are you going to make any more of that… that?”
“No. I’ve made enough. It works or it doesn’t,” Ike said. He nodded at Silver. “I could use more of those scent suppression herbs, though.”
“For the thing?”
“No, for me.”
Silver narrowed his eyes. “You kill it. Tonight.”
“If I don’t, I’m in trouble,” Ike said, laughing.
Still squinting, Silver vanished back into his cave. He handed Ike a small bowl of dark liquid. “Drink it now.”
Ike tipped it back. Bitterness surged over his tongue. He barely forced himself to swallow, then gagged, wiping his mouth. “Ugh. Gross.”
“I can’t make fish stew. That owl ate all the big fish,” Silver complained.
“Yeah, yeah.” Making a few more faces, Ike stood. He headed to the forest and selected a good, straight tree, then drew his axe. He chopped it down, severed the branches, then whittled the end to a point.
“What are you doing?” Silver asked, looming over his shoulder.
“Making a spear.” Ike tilted his head, checking the line of the spear, then shrugged and nodded to himself.
Silver pursed his lips. He walked away.
“Weird guy,” Ike commented to himself.
Once he’d finished his primitive spear, he turned to the axe. This close to the stream, it wasn’t hard to find some good, round river stones. He set the axe on a big, flat stone and ground the axe’s edge. The blunt tool slowly sharpened.
A shadow fell over him again. “You’re going to fight it with those things?”
“They’re all I have. I don’t own anything better,” Ike said, shrugging.
Bone clattered against stone. Ike looked over. A barbed spearhead lay on the ground beside him.
“Use it. It’s a flawed product, anyway.” Silver walked away, leaving Ike to stare dumbfounded after him.
At last, Ike shook his head. He took the spearhead and grabbed up his spear. Could’ve used this a while ago. I could have bound the head into place with the glue and a strip of hide.
No, I’m being ungrateful. Silver didn’t have to give me anything. I should be thankful he decided to help.
Ike headed into the forest. Before long, he found a supple vine long enough for what he needed. Lifting his axe, he cut open the sharpened end of the spear, then bound the head in place. He tested the spearhead. It sat firmly in place.
It’ll work for one strike. But then, with the barbs, it’s only meant to work once. He nodded at the spear, pleased with what he had. Spear, axe, razor. Should be enough for this battle. I’d rather have a sword, but I can’t do anything about it until Silver decides to make me one.
He lifted his weapons. I’d like to attack it while it’s sleeping, but the trap won’t work if it doesn’t land in it, and I don’t know where it sleeps, either. Better not to overplay my hand and rely on everything I’ve set up.
With that, Ike set off into the woods again to wait for night.
21
OWL HUNTING
Night settled slowly over the forest. Ike lay on the forest floor, buried in leaves. He watched the bone pile.
Nothing yet. The owl had yet to hunt.
Ike breathed slowly, absorbing the mana in the forest as he waited. He practiced the forearm technique whenever he had enough mana to burn. From holding it for half a heartbeat to holding it for a second to holding it for a few seconds, he slowly strengthened his ability to use the skill. At the same time, he refined the flows, slightly changing the course of the mana to optimize it.
That has to be enough. He checked his skill list.
[Name: Ike | Age: 15 | Status: Nm | Rank: 1 [Salamander Slayer]]
Skills: Common: 6 | Rare 1 | … | Unique: 3
Common: Sprinter LVL 9 | Distance Runner LVL 10 | Razor Handling LVL 8 | Spear Handling LVL 2 | Axe Handling LVL 4 | Primitive Crafting LVL 2
Rare: Salamander Healing LVL 4
Unique: Lightning Dash LVL 6 | Lightning Grasp LVL 4 | Lightning Clad (Forearm) LVL 1
Got the skill! Yes! Wait… He eyed the (Forearm) tag after the Lightning Clad skill. That implied he could clad more than his forearms. Seeing the tag there confirmed his assumptions. The “skill” he had right now was a diminished form of the true Lightning Clad skill. When he could cover his whole body with lightning, he’d obtain Lightning Clad instead of Lightning Clad (area of his body). He pursed his lips. Interesting.
He nodded, then paused, looking back at the list. Beside his rank, his title remained the same as before. Salamander Slayer? Still? I killed the mantis… Does it only track the most recent or most powerful kill? The rarest? Interesting. I’ll have to keep an eye on it.
With the skill secured, he lay there and breathed, quietly absorbing mana. He waited. And waited. Time ground on. The moon crossed the sky.
Ike blinked slowly, on the verge of falling asleep. He shook his head, fighting off the drowsiness. It worked at first, but within a few minutes, he found himself nodding off again. Ike’s head dipped toward the ground.
A screech startled him awake. Ike startled and almost jumped up, but caught himself at the last second. He snapped his head toward the bone pile.
Nothing, but only for a second. A shadow fell over the pile, and then the beast itself appeared. Flapping all-but-soundless wings, the owl dropped toward the earth. Tonight, it carried a deer in one of its enormous claws. It struck the ground, then screamed in dismay. It flapped its wings desperately. One claw lifted off the ground, but the other one stuck to the bone pile.
The glue trap had worked. Not just binding the owl to the bones, but binding enough of the bones together into a heavy lump that it weighed the owl down so much it couldn’t escape.
Ike leaped up, wasting no time. He lifted the spear as he closed in.
The owl let out a vicious hoot. It twisted toward him, and its free claw slashed toward Ike.
Ike threw himself forward, sliding on his knees. As he slid forward, he found himself gazing at the owl’s huge eyes. Its vicious beak slashed down toward him.
Lifting the axe, he smacked it at the owl’s beak. With his other hand, he thrust the spear upward, speeding his strike with Lightning Grasp and Lightning Clad. Purple lightning burst around his arm from the elbow down.
Clang! Axe struck beak, and Ike parried the blow away. His spear plunged into the owl’s eye, and Ike shoved it home with all his might.
The owl screamed in pain. It pulled its head back, yanking the spear out of Ike’s grasp, and tried to hop away. It only made it half a hop before its stuck claw pulled it up short. Panicking, it flapped its wings wildly and thrashed with its free claw.
Ike ran at the owl, charging toward its underbelly. The claw darted toward him. Ike slashed it back with his axe. Blood poured out, and the owl flinched, hurt. It stumbled, then fell, only held up by its stuck foot.
Ike jumped up onto the owl’s belly. He grabbed onto its fine belly feathers and climbed, crawling up toward its head.
The owl battered him with its wings. It drew back its head and jabbed him with its beak. Lifting a hand, Ike slashed at the beak with his axe.
The beak jarred away but cut a glancing blow to his shoulder. Ike’s offhand weakened, and suddenly it hurt to hold on. He gritted his teeth and forced his hand to grip the feathers. Just a little further.
The owl chittered in pain. It drew its head back, clicking its beak. A gash marred the side of its beak, and Ike could see its tongue through the gap.
He pulled himself up. One more pull. Another. The owl drew back its head again, but too late. Ike slashed into the feathers. The axe cut through nothing, feathers and air, then thunked home. Crimson spilled down the owl’s chest.
I did it. Relieved, Ike released the owl’s feathers and flopped down into the bone pile. His injured shoulder jolted as he struck the ground, but then a wave of relief washed over him. Not having to hold his own weight up was amazing. He’d never thought it could feel so good to let go.
The owl’s eye burned with vengeful light. It was dying, but slowly. It cocked back its head. The beak hurtled down toward Ike.
Shit! Ike grabbed his axe.
The patter of pads. Galloping at Ike. The boy tensed. Two at once? I’m fucked.
A black belly eclipsed the moon, and then a panther landed in front of him, tossing up bits of dirt and bone as it skidded to a halt. The owl turned toward it instead, deep hatred washing away even the vengeance. The panther leaped and caught the owl by the neck, bearing it to the ground. Gore and blood stained the night.
Ike climbed to his feet. He backed away, glancing toward the forest. I don’t think that panther noticed me. I should—
He froze. His eyes widened.
On the bone pile, the panther raised its head. Blood dripped from its jaws. The owl lay prone under it. It licked its lips.
“Silver…?” Ike whispered.
The panther turned and looked at him. The same gold eyes bored into his. A silver scar sliced over its right eye, a white mark in his fur just as it was white on his skin.
Lowering its head just a little, the panther walked over. It drew up to Ike’s feet and knelt, dropping a glittering, translucent orb to the ground.
“It dropped a Skill Orb?” Ike picked up the orb.
The panther darted away. Ike faced the owl alone.
He stared over his shoulder, in the direction the panther had vanished. His brows furrowed. That was Silver, right? That had to be Silver. Wait… is he a monster, then? Has he been a monster this whole time?
Is that why he lives in the wild? Is that why he doesn’t go into town? No, before that—why does he have human-level intelligence? That’s possible? Monsters can be… What does this mean?
Looking at the dead owl, he scoffed. “You didn’t have human intelligence, did you?” Not even close. Whatever Silver was, he was special. Abnormal.
Or maybe he’s a guy with a skill that turns him into a panther. Yeah. That makes sense. Ike nodded to himself but felt the cloying grasp of self-delusion close around him. With a sigh, he shook his head. Is there even a skill like that? Who would make that skill? How do you shape your mana to turn you into a panther?
Ike tapped his chin, thinking. Human, or monster? Which was his true form? The way Silver had pushed him into the mud… Cats liked pushing things over. Or maybe he’s just an asshole. Silver liked eating fish, but so do I. Silver had a self-cleaning skill, not unlike a cat, and I’ll be damned if I wouldn’t find it incredibly convenient, too. Silver didn’t carry a weapon and claimed he didn’t need a sword skill… Okay, no, that one’s a little suspicious. Hand-to-hand combat is a thing, sure, but you aren’t going to get far against a twenty-foot-tall owl with your bare hands alone.
