Eight: A LitRPG Novel of Magical Survival

The otter brought me to the pool and scooped up a ball of water the size of my fist. It hovered above her paw, the surface undulating gently. It was so cool—magic, real visible magic, without the need for wires, sleight of hand, or faith in an invisible world.

She pointed to herself, the water, and then to me. I’ll teach you that.

I nodded. “Yes, please.”

She gestured with her paws and siphoned the ball into five streams, each forming into a different shape. There was a tree with a broad and proud canopy, a ribbon dancing in the air, a cloud raining, the tablet I’d seen her use, and my forearm bleeding. I watched as the wound closed.

Bringing her paws together, she recombined the sculptures into a single ball. She pointed to herself, the water, and me.

So, there were five branches of water magic, all starting from the same place, and one of them was the healing magic I wanted. I pointed to the place where the sculpture of my wounded arm had floated.

The otter shook her head before going through an absurd sequence of push-ups, sit-ups, running in place, and stretches. She made a bunch of gestures and connected them to the activities, then one final sign to encompass them all together. Finally, she pulled out her dowel to draw in the dirt, images of me practicing or training in a variety of activities. It seemed she was willing to teach me the starting place for water magic, but that I’d have to learn the rest on my own.

That was fine with me. I wasn’t afraid of hard work, and honestly, just getting access to any magic would be worth the trade. I nodded to show my agreement and signed, “I practice.”

She stopped the weird otter calisthenics and wiped her brow. Not that otters could actually sweat, but she did it anyway. Maybe she’d seen it done elsewhere? A track meet for gods and spirits? The image of her in an otterized track suit made me smile.

For all the mystery surrounding her, she was also adorable, the natural cuteness of otters amplified by her intelligence. Plus, she had magic. And I will too. Soon.

I was startled from my wandering thoughts by the otter streaming the water back into the pool. My hope was that we’d get started with lessons immediately, but she pointed to the sun and clapped her paws three times. Then she showed me a series of signs, clapping in sequence for each one.

Were they numbers? So three? She’d teach me in three days? I nodded.

The otter sighed and scratched at her cheek, no doubt wondering how she’d gotten mixed up with me. She gave the dagger one last look before diving into the pool. Payment was apparently due on delivery. I’d have three days to use it before I needed to hand it over.

I lay on my back and nudged another stick toward the fire. I’d done enough work for the day—more than enough, really, as my body was still healing and needed to rest. And if later that night I dreamt about running through the forest while wielding arcane and potent magics, well… a boy could dream, right?

The next day, I planned to explore the forest and scavenge for more materials.

Before heading out, though, I used charcoal to outline the dagger’s blade on two pieces of cedar bark. I cut away everything outside the outlines and lashed the two pieces together to make a scabbard for the dagger. I looped a cord around the top and tied it around my waist. Then, I repeated the process for the stiletto with the hickory hilt.

The scabbards banged against my legs when I walked, so I looped a cord around the bottom of each and tied them to my legs. It was still awkward, but less distracting and noisy.

I felt like a badass wearing my armor and carrying my spear, a dagger on one leg, and a stiletto on the other. Alas, the feeling wasn’t reflected in my Status.

My attribute increases hadn’t taken effect, and the only changes to my skills were in gaining Qi Body and Barter earlier. I’d assumed at least Woodworking would’ve gone up, but no, it was holding steady at rank 8.

With a shrug, I hiked up the hillside leading to the top of the waterfall to take advantage of the view there. That was where I’d been poisoned, so I took care moving through the brush. Nothing jumped out at me, though, and the Forest Survival skill was silent when I checked it.

The trees at the top were thick, and their branches were draped with vines, especially on the ones next to the stream feeding the waterfall. The vines were dotted with small purple, orange, and pink flowers.

They looked potentially helpful, so I used the butt of my spear to knock some loose. Both the purple- and orange-flowered vines were smooth, but the pink one had barbs. They looked nasty too, like you’d lose flesh trying to get free of them.

I felt more than heard something drop behind me, and immediately dove to the side. Scrambling to my feet, I got the spear up in time to knock away one of the barbed vines. It was on the ground, and swayed in front me like a snake. Instead of a mouth with fangs, though, it had a cluster of needles set in a circle.

My butt cheek ached in memory. A similar circle had been stitched into the back of my pants.

This is what poisoned me!

The stinger darted forward, and I batted it away again. Unfortunately, the vine was only an inch across and was too hard to stab as it weaved in the air.

Why am I always fighting long, narrow creatures, world?

After a minute of us missing each other, I noticed that the bulk of the vine had withdrawn behind the tree it’d originally occupied, leaving only the stinger. I backed off, and when I was ten feet away, the stinger rapidly retreated.

Yes! We fought to a draw! I lifted my spear in non-defeat!

And brought it down immediately to stab a second barbed vine trying to sneak up on me. This time, I grazed the vine and swung the spear to force it to the ground and pin it there. A quick look didn’t show any others nearby, so I dragged the spearhead across the wound, severing the stinger. The scent of mint burst into the air, and the vine fled. Suddenly, all the barbed vines climbed higher into their trees.

The scent must’ve alerted them to the death of one of their comrades, and they’d retreated in fear of me! This time I raised my spear in victory—while also keeping an eye on my surroundings and the trees, because these devilspawn apparently loved dropping on their prey from above.

Not today though. Today, I was the winner.

I checked my phone in case the fight had triggered any changes to my Status, but there was still nothing related to experience points or any new skills. Damn, I’d been hoping to see a spear skill of some kind appear.

“It sure is hard to improve in this System.”

Except that I’d gotten Qi Body and Barter easily. Was that because I had prior experience with each? That would explain why they hadn’t started at one.

I’d have to think about that later, once I was back in the safety of the cave. Now, I was enjoying the sweet, minty taste of victory. And checking my surroundings. Because, you know, devil vines.

I waded into the stream to splash water on my face. The current pulled at my clothes, but it wasn’t bad, as long as I stayed near the bank. The fish avoided the waterfall, but I saw one of the little orange ones braving the area, popping up to eat insects on the surface.

“You live in a beautiful place, little guy.”

The view was breathtaking. To the west, an escarpment rose high into the air. It stretched for miles to the north and south, and the trees on top looked like they sat on a high shelf.

Farther east, the ground flattened out. The whole scene was covered in a rich, green carpet of trees. At least three or four miles away, I saw land cleared for farming and a smudge of black in the sky. Smoke, the kind produced by civilization.

Amid the green canopy, movement fluttered. Small birds and arboreal creatures lived in those branches. Above them, birds of prey and scavengers hovered. I saw hawks, eagles, and even a committee of vultures circling south of the Glen.

A creature was dead or dying. Might be something for me to scavenge over there.

The canopy opened as I walked, making room for a variety of shrubs, bushes, and brambles. Each tried to outdo its neighbors, and I made my way carefully, mindful of anything with thorns or needles.

I also looked for any fruits or vegetables and managed to find a patch of thick-stalked plants. Clusters of bean pods as long as my hands hung from them, and thankfully they didn’t react when I used my spear to cut one of the pods free.

The beans inside were mottled green and maroon. They were small too, not done growing, and smelled nutty. When I sniffed them, my mouth watered. Strangely, there was also a sense of… sustenance. A part of me knew the beans would be nutritious, but I’d never seen them before. That knowledge shouldn’t have been something I possessed.

I checked my Status, and my attention was pulled to the Forest Survival skill. There was also a warmth in my belly, the glow similar to the feeling after practicing qigong. Interestingly, it also reminded me of my grandfather. He was the one who’d taught me to hunt. The two of us used to go into the woods every weekend. When I was little, we went after squirrels, but when I got older we brought home ducks and deer for the freezer.

I loved mi abuelito. He was patient and kind. He had this way of walking through the woods, like every tree and every bush was his acquaintance.

It was because he was more comfortable there than anywhere else.

Both my grandparents on my dad’s side were brujos, but where my grandmother’s craft focused on spirits, my grandfather was one with the land. He was aware of the sights and sounds and smells of the forest without seeming to be.

I looked around and saw the forest around me with new eyes. Or, more accurately, I saw it with my old eyes: the ones I’d trained over fifty years of backwoods hiking, camping, fishing, and hunting. I saw some thin stalks poking from the ground and recognized them as wild onions. Digging them up with the butt of my spear proved me right. And another five yards farther, I found signs of a deer passing through this area—a pile of pellets.

I’d been running and running, just trying to survive, and hadn’t taken the time to get my bearings. So, I drew in a deep breath and relaxed my shoulders. They were so tight, they felt like they were riding just under my ears. I reminded myself how it felt to be one with the land.

“Yeah, just like that. Keep breathing, Ollie. Keep breathing.”

I wrapped a handful of bean pods and onions in a frond to bring them back to the cave later for testing.

It was a couple hundred yards before I felt the boundary of the otter’s territory. Well, probably not that far. My sense of time and scale were likely distorted by my slow pace and the need to constantly check for danger. Maybe it was only a hundred yards? One hundred twenty or thirty?

I felt exposed outside the boundary, but my curiosity kept me going. At least the walking was easier. The forest canopy was thicker where the vultures circled, and the groundcover thinned.

Ahead, coming down from one of the hillsides, a moose calf stumbled between the trees. Even from forty yards away, I could see she was wounded; the flesh of her hindquarters was exposed, the meat red against her brown fur.

Wait, she? How did I know? The animal was too young to be able to tell the gender at this distance. Before I could check my Status though, I felt the same warm glow in my belly as before. The Forest Survival skill was at work again.

The glow quickly turned into alarm, however, as a flock of wild turkeys leisurely followed the moose calf, led by a giant bird easily four times the size of the others. He had deep orange feathers mixed in with the usual dark brown. The other turkeys included three or four with orange feathers. They were also bigger than average, just not quite as big as their leader.

He must’ve gotten impatient. A haze, like the shimmer you’d see on hot pavement, shot from his beak. Steam rose from where it struck the calf. Her fur smoked and sloughed away to reveal the meat bubbling beneath it.

I gulped and tightened my grip on my spear.

The monster turkey jumped at the calf to use his talons on her injured flesh. The calf buckled under his weight and called plaintively for help. He seemed to enjoy the sound, preening his feathers and strutting across her back.

He used his beak to tear the flesh from the calf’s face and gulped it down. The other orange-feathered turkeys circled the dying calf and tore open her belly. The monster apparently didn’t like that and batted them away with his wings. He hopped down to drive his head into the calf’s belly and eat the innards.

Only when he was done did he allow the other orange feathers to take their turn. The rest of the turkeys, the ones with brown feathers, kept their distance and pecked at the ground.

I stayed still, not wanting to draw the turkeys’ attention, especially that monster. Sweat poured down my back, but I kept my breathing steady. My eyes were mild, my gaze soft—it was one of my grandfather’s lessons. He said that it was best not to be too interested in prey and predators, because they could sense when a hunter was looking at them.

“To be wise in the woods,” he had said, “is to blend your heart with the land.”

I put his words into practice, quieting my thoughts and feelings, my breathing and actions. My heart still pounded, and I was ready to move quickly, but all that lay under a still pool’s surface.

The feeling was similar to Meliune’s Blessing, except I was in control—it wasn’t forced upon me.

The lead turkey went back for seconds and thirds. He shredded the fur and made a game of tossing the bones at the other turkeys. They’d flap away to avoid being hit, but never strayed too far. Eventually, the monster got bored and wandered back up the hillside. The rest of the flock followed after.

The vultures that’d been circling landed once the turkeys were gone, their heads swiveling to check for danger. Only once they were sure it was clear did they hop toward the calf’s remains. I waited until I was certain none of them shot heat beams from their beaks.

There wasn’t much cover in between the birds and me, so they saw me coming and hopped away from the carcass. Some stayed on the ground, while a few flapped up to perch in the nearby trees. My spear was ready, just in case.

The calf’s fur was tattered and unsalvageable. Most of the meat and viscera were gone. The sinew would come in handy, though, so I cut two of the forelegs free. “Thank you,” I said. “I’ll use these to make tools, and my life will be better because of your sacrifice.”

I would’ve taken more, but carrying the two legs was going to be awkward enough.

The vultures eyed me as I also walked around to pick up stray turkey feathers. There was something about the orange ones that made me want to hold them. It was like my hands knew what to do without me. They played with the feathers, testing them. The shafts were sturdy, and the vanes flexible but resilient.

More skills at work? Maybe. Probably.

Just as important, though, an idea started percolating—the feathers, both the dark brown and orange, would make for fine fletching for arrows. I stuffed them all in my shirt and walked back to the glen, the damn things tickling me all the way home.