Breaker of Horizons: A LitRPG Adventure, page 8
“They tell me all these things. But old men are known to lie, and all I’ve ever seen is what Logos built. Factories and shipyards as far as the eye can see.”
Nic held up his newest artwork.
This time he’d tried to capture a different side of the city. A view looking up from below to where the streets lifted and shot straight into the sky, ignoring gravity, bending backward to form rollercoaster loops as they touched back down to earth. Alongside the rising ribcage of a dead leviathan, it gave the city’s low tenement houses a sense of verticality.
In the distance, he’d drawn the governor’s house sitting in the eye of an enormous skull, and the wide pavilion of the Merchesa’s academy.
It was the view he’d had as a child, staring up in hopes of greatness.
She clapped her hands together in delight. “This is wonderful!” Accepting the picture, she laughed as he clutched the pen possessively to his chest. “Yes, yes, you may keep it. You are actually quite the talented artist. I wonder who you were, in your first life…”
“Nobody,” Nic said without thinking. He was glad she’d only heard a croak. One in ten thousand, in a city of millions.
Standing up, he bowed and gave a little three-fingered wave.
“Ah. Of course. You are an adventuring kind of Newt. You must be on your way.” She seemed sad, but she smiled. “Tell me, if you happen to find any way to break curses on your travels”—her hand trailed up to where her skin was grey and cracked—“will you return? My people would shower you with gratitude, of course. You would be a hero among all lizards.”
He lifted his hand to salute.
“Say no more,” he croaked, and this time, she definitely understood what he meant.
The mantis-folk guards watched in confusion as he threaded an enormous leaf from the tree with greenwood sticks, assembling a frame.
For obvious reason, a species with wings had never needed this particular invention, but Nic didn’t have the patience to spend a quarter of the day climbing back down the tree. So he was daubing mud on the upper “canopy” of his new invention to form Hunter-Gatherer glyphs related to wind and calling on his new pen to add Fundamental runes for strengthening the whole construction.
He was building a glider.
Windward Canopy (G)
Glyph of the Wandering Gale
(100% Charged)
Rune of Strength
(100% Charged)
* * *
Formed from the leaf of a mother tree, this glider bears the blessings of the winds and the words of a far-flung world to guide it safely home.
They started to laugh as he slipped on his construction and they finally saw what it was meant to be. To a flying race, it must have seemed ridiculous to think somebody could build themselves wings. With a last wave to the surly honor guard watching him like a hawk, he slipped his backpack onto a special hook and stepped up onto the railing.
The laughter paused, and one of them actually stepped forward to stop him.
Nic jumped. The wind lifted to a roar, and just to give them time to really squeeze their last chuckle out, he dropped straight down for nearly a hundred feet before turning into the wind and letting it fill the glider’s sail with a billowing thump.
As the sail filled, his arc toward the ground twisted up, and suddenly, he was soaring. He bent the wings to one side so he could throw a glance over his shoulder and see the shocked faces of the mantis guards. Out there with them, grinning ear to ear and holding a hand to her face, their princess.
“The moment I’m less small and cute…” he whispered into the wind, forgetting about the passenger in his brain for a moment.
Sofia helpfully reminded him by chiming in. “Please don’t make me educate you on the breeding habits of the mantis-folk…”
“Oh, I think she can educate me just fine.”
“You would really not enjoy the experience. Or survive it.”
“What does that—”
Something hit him with a force that sheered straight through the glider’s right half, turning the peaceful moment into a wild, panicked tumble through the screaming wind. He got just enough of a glimpse of his attacker to see a human flying through the air before the world began to spin, the blue sky and the green sea of leaves below trading places at whirlwind speeds.
He ripped at his broken wings, trying to get them to catch the wind and lift him again. But that was no good. In his final seconds before impact, he curled in on instinct and wrapped his entire body in an adhesive aura.
He hit the canopy hard.
Branches tore his skin and left deep gouges, and leaves stuck to his body. Instead of a single instantly lethal impact, dozens of small ones ripped at him as the branches broke his fall one by one until he was left tangled at the core of countless snapped tree limbs; his adhesive aura had increased his friction and kept him from going right through the canopy and down to the ground below.
Even then, for a bigger creature with more mass, the fall would’ve splattered him without a doubt.
With a horrified little croak, he released the aura and dropped down. The impact was blindingly painful. One of his legs had sustained some kind of minor fracture, and the right arm he’d worked so hard to regrow was hanging limp.
“Nicolas. Get to cover. Now.”
Without hesitation, he abandoned the glider to fling himself behind a tree where erosion had opened a gap underneath the roots. His flexible body squished to fit down smaller than should be possible, his ribcage actually moving to allow him to flatten his entire body as he slithered down into the space. Digging frantically, he burrowed enough space to drag his backpack in with him.
With a thump, a pair of boots hit the ground. They were expensive, cherry-red boots. Above them towered a man, with his hair shaved back to a tight brown ridge across the top of his head, dressed in saffron-yellow robes emblazoned with blue dragons. He had an unsettling smile on his face, but it quickly faded as he realized his prey was nowhere in sight.
He bent down to the remains of the glider and sniffed like a bloodhound.
Any moment, Nic was expecting the man to turn toward him. Twice, the hunter looked all around the clearing, and Nic felt the primal urge to flinch, to run, as the gaze swept past him.
Then the man simply scoffed and soared straight into the sky.
“Nic. Stay down.” Sofia whispered into his mind.
Nic didn’t need telling twice. A smart hunter would still be watching from just out sight, waiting for him to come out. A good hunter might wait for hours.
So he waited back. And waited. And waited.
And just as the stress was beginning to itch his mind raw, a small predatory bird emerged from the forest. It walked on two legs and had a crest of bright-green feathers above a crocodile-like snout, and it edged curiously toward the glider, eyes glinting greedily.
It stepped out under the break Nic had carved in the canopy.
A bolt of energy streaked down and punched straight through the bird’s skull. Nic flinched as that bolt expanded outward where it struck the ground, becoming a wave of force and a rising ball of white-hot flames that seared him even in his hiding place, setting the forest alight with its fury. For a moment, he could only see the blazing afterimage of the impact.
He gasped, croaking as too-hot air struck his lungs. If he’d left his hiding place that would’ve been the end of him. Even the edge of the blast could’ve been lethal.
But he swore.
He promised.
Someday he’d be strong enough to kill that hunter. Something about the man’s callous overkill enraged him as he wriggled out of his hiding hole and began to move, needing to stay ahead of the blaze that was now taking light in the upper branches. Soon the forest would be full of smoke and fire.
But was the hunter an invader?
Or a native?
Chapter 9
Out of the Frying Pan
The fire was spreading slowly. It licked at the forest canopy like it was getting a taste for death and destruction. Smog filtered through the trees in thick clouds.
“Sofia, I want you to add ‘kill the rat-bastard in boots’ to whatever notification you’re doing up there.”
“Nicolas, you don’t even know his name. You’re not remotely at his level of power…”
Nic thought about that statement for a moment, then slung the pack off his shoulders and reached inside. The wyvern bit him. It clung on as he lifted his finger out, one wing badly broken. “I’m sorry, little guy. I didn’t think—” He bit back the end of that sentence. He didn’t think for a moment.
He set the wyvern on his shoulder, breaking away a bit of healing leaf for it to chew on.
“Nicolas…”
“And you. Sofia! Why didn’t you tell me there were flying hunters before I went and made myself a target to everyone who looked up?”
“There are some things I just can’t tell you yet. Zone Anomalies and other prescient information cannot be mentioned by me until you ask about them.” The calm in her voice was infuriating.
“So what? You’d just watch me get myself killed, not saying a word, if I was about to walk into your ‘prescient information’ like a moron? Fine. Tell me everything that I need to know to not to be in mortal danger.”
“I wouldn’t want to remain silent. But I cannot mention some information, including Anomalies, until and unless you ask.”
He nearly kept going. Let his anger win. But at the last moment, he bit his tongue as what she said struck home.
“Oh. But…. You can phrase your answers so I know what to ask.” She was trying to help. Whatever her rules and restrictions, she really was. “I—Sofia, tell me about Zone Anomalies, or whatever it is that let that bastard fly.”
“Zone Anomalies are unique rules tied to a location in the New World. I cannot give the specifics, but this and many other forms of information can be accessed from a Tutelary Statue. Now, most of those reside in human towns and safe zones where you can’t go. However, there should be one in every Dungeon, and the humans have likely not discovered the one in this zone.”
“Right, that’s our goal then.” Shifting his bag back onto his shoulders, Nic took off. The blaze was going in earnest now, and the short stop had cost him what little head start he had. An ashen cloud lifted above the forest and rained down embers that created new outcroppings of fire wherever they found timber.
The creatures were in a panic, and they charged past at full speed, ignoring each other as they fought to escape the coming destruction.
Nic had no choice now. He ran with them, vaulting over roots and fallen logs, side by side with a small sleek deer that had beautiful blue feathers sprouting from the edges of its eye. Every few moments it would flicker and reappear farther away, leaving Nic behind.
A fire loomed ahead. It had somehow outpaced him. Another flared to the east.
He took the only way open.
Again and again, fires appeared in his path. Each time, the way ahead narrowed and forced the stampede of forest creatures into a smaller path. Fangs were bared and claws flashed in anger as they fought not to be trampled. In the chaos, Nic was almost drowned within them, confused, his small stature turning the world into a sea of stomping legs.
A blow landed on his back, and he had to roll to get free of the stampede before it crushed him. He sprawled on his belly, staring up at the wall of the inferno.
The fire in front of him flickered.
Something was wrong. He stared intently, refusing to blink even as the bodies of fleeing animals crossed between him and the flame.
Then it happened again.
The fire flickered in the exact same way. The motions of the flames were on a loop.
Stepping forward, Nic thrust his hand out toward the flame with eyes clenched shut. The heat intensified to an almost painful degree—but that was all. Almost. His hand sat in the middle of the flame, unburned.
The fires had always been one step ahead of them. Always pushing them into smaller and smaller bottlenecks. Something was taking advantage of the very real fire behind to herd the animals toward… something.
And it could only be bad.
Forcing himself to step into the flames against all his better judgment, he asked, “Sofia, what is this?”
“An illusion, Nicolas. Very astute, spotting it like that. These flames are a conjuration of aura with no physical substance, attuned to concepts of dream.”
As he forced himself not to panic at the feeling of harmless fire engulfing his flesh, Nic waded deeper and deeper until he could see the source ahead. A huge moth crouched at the center of the blaze. Its spindle-thin arms worked to write strange runes into the air with the golden dust from its wings. It was so focused on the task, it hadn’t seen him coming.
And he’d keep it that way.
His spear flashed as he threw it through the flames. It struck one wing and tore the flimsy material even as a stone spear burst up, ripping through the creature’s front legs. Instantly, the phantom fire vanished, and the forest was revealed whole and intact beneath the illusion. The false dust and ash cleared from the air.
Nic launched himself forward. The beast was wounded and reeling, and he slipped the beast fang he’d taken from the massacre at the elven camp into his fist as a punching knife. One blow after another rained down until yellow blood covered his arms.
He reached down and wrenched a blue crystal shard no bigger than his finger from the beast’s head. It glittered in his palm.
“Tell me.”
Nightmare Moth. F-Rank // Dead. Feeding on the liquified remains of those they put to sleep with poison spores and slowly digest using a weak acid, these moths rely on panic for self-defense, creating terrible images that frighten and dismay to drive away the weak-willed. Feeble in combat, they rely on distracting and confusing their prey.
Phantasmal Shard. F-Rank // Secondary. This shard contains purest Essence attuned to the concepts of dreamland and fear. It has been damaged by the death of its previous owner and cannot serve as a Primary Shard, and due to low quality, the skill resulting from Synthesis may be difficult to advance.
He nodded slowly. It was a good shard and an easy kill. He still regretted losing the mantis-kin who’d fallen from the branches—two shards would leave him with the first requirement for evolution nearly complete.
Animals rushed past him. Now that one segment of the illusionary fire had fallen, there was no longer a perfect encirclement leading them toward their doom. There were still other fake fires, other moths working their magic, but Nic hadn’t come here to save anyone.
Saving a few was already his good deed for the day.
He shoved the shard down into his pack. It was time to move.
By the time he made it back to the river and found his way toward the poison grove, another two hours had passed. The day was swelteringly hot, and rain poured down, called by the smoke and rising ash of the forest fire.
For a human, the mixture of heat and moisture would have been vile. To his new, newty form, it was heaven. Warm, muggy water rolled off his back, and he felt wonderfully at home in his skin.
He cautiously approached the grove with his new draconic companion on his shoulder and waited for any sign of poisoning or harm. The wyvern leaned its scaly neck forward and snapped at raindrops happily, unaffected by the toxic pollen. Apparently, being a venomous little bastard gave him plenty of protection from other poisons.
Sliding down into the hidden grave barrow, Nic set the wyvern down with a bed of leaves and a few medicinal berries for food. “This is home, for now, little guy.”
Settling down, Nic rested with his pack as a pillow and his body curled up small. He could justify it by saying he was just refreshing the bonus for resting in a poisoned environment. But truthfully, almost dying had shaken him. The fire and the fear of the stampeding animals were like poison in his mind.
He needed the quiet of sleep to help bleed it out.
From the moment Nic woke, he knew he’d already lost too much time. The sun was high in the sky, and the rain was over when he crept outside the cave.
He needed to get to work.
He went to the riverside and cut down bamboo stalks using the kitchen knife, hacking into them with good, heavy strokes until he’d harvested a handful of poles. Back at the cave, he hollowed them out using the beast tooth as a drill, slowly producing a set of three tubes open at one end. Going out to gather as much dry wood as he could in the aftermath of the splattering rain, he settled back down a third time and worked toward getting a fire going, setting his trove of little sticks alight with the heating stone from the kitchens.
In no time, the walls of the cave danced with firelight, and he began a meal by squeezing the honey from his stolen beehive into the frying pan. It was golden and sweet, and he licked up every drop remaining on his fingers before setting in to guzzle down the lot. His tiny wyvern nudged up alongside him, on his shoulder, as he dug his face into the pan, licking at the feast.
The abundance of Essence within flooded his body and made him feel incredible as he set the pan over the fire and tossed in the squeezed-down remains of the beehive. In no time, the wax was melting away from the various bits of dead bee and other remains caught inside, giving him a pure grey base to work with.
Now, he filled his bamboo tubes up with the yellow flowers that produced the poison spores and sealed the tops over with wax. Taking out Lady Nylea’s gift of the pen, he drew a simple Hunter-Gatherer glyph on one side that would bottle and increase the toxicity.
On the other, he put a rune he’d practiced more than any other. It was named Lakash, or “Unbinding,” and it was a simple rune that would unleash any and all Essence placed into the object in an explosive burst, destroying its base in the process. Although it was less efficient than true explosive runes in converting Essence into firepower, it had several advantages. The first was simple stability, but the second was that it could latch on to other runes and draw power from them. For this reason, it was commonly added to magical items to allow them to self-destruct in dire situations.
