CHAPTER 51: CHAPTER 51 - THE PLAINS

It didn’t take very long to find a path up the cliff-face. It was a long one, yes, but not particularly difficult.

My eyes traced the narrow zigzagging road carved into the stone, curling upward like the strokes of some patient giant. It almost looked deliberate---too steady to be pure accident---but the years had worn away any certainty. Wind whistled through the cracks, carrying dust and pebbles away before they could gather. The stone told no story of whether men had walked it yesterday or centuries ago.

The cub, as always, was a few strides ahead of me.

Its six legs padded across the rock in a smooth, mechanical rhythm that almost hypnotized me if I stared too long. Tail flicking wildly. Carefree. Almost mocking.

The sight was... grounding. Comfort, in a strange way.

It hadn’t seen the woman. Hadn’t felt what I had felt when her gaze pinned me down like a dissected insect. If it had, it wouldn’t have been wagging its tail like this. But perhaps things were better that way.

I didn’t need my mood poisoned any more than it already was.

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The climb took time. Long switchbacks, step after step. Each bend in the path brought another stretch of rock and wind, the same gray stone, the same sound of grit under boots. But the sameness only sharpened the feeling that this was an ending point.

The Core, the evolutions, the cub---all of it had been...obstacles...to this goal. A maze that had kept me from it. Every turn that should have killed me had done the opposite, and now here I was, walking a road that felt almost too simple after everything else.

Step by step, the world opened wider, and satisfaction pressed in heavier than the exertion ever could.

I had made it back to the top. To the edge.

My gaze roamed the landscape, an unbound satisfaction washing over me.

Red.

The plains stretched, endless in every direction. Rolling waves of blood-colored grass, each blade gleaming under the twin suns, with that dreadful metallic sheen, like red, burnished steel that sheeted the world.

A strange beauty.

I remembered waking here, surrounded by nothing but this deathtrap. If I hadn’t had my Gift...

Hah. I never actually thought about it, but Lysha’el probably placed me there on purpose...so I’d understand my gift through first-hand experience...

Anyone else would have had no choice but to die, either of starvation, or of impalement.

I started forward, excited as ever, but I froze in horror as the cub dashed past me in a blur of black.

"WAIT! NO—STOP!"

I ran. Faster than I’d ever run. Mana surged of its own volition, red light flooding every vein and nerve as I burst forth, the ground cracking beneath my feet.

I dove, arms shooting out to grab the cub before it was too late.

Inches. I grabbed the cub inches before impalement, and we tumbled. I spun, back first, taking the fall straight onto the grass.

[Your blood vessels have been burnt by Mana: x350]

[Host’s [Mana Strain Resistance] has increased greatly: x3]

The cub squeaked, tilting its head as I set it down on my chest with a heavy exhale that blotted out the pain.

It blinked, ears twitching. Curious. Confused.

I couldn’t explain. Couldn’t show it. My resistances meant I could walk through this field forever and never feel what it really was.

So I plucked a blade of the crimson grass, its edge glinting like sharpened steel.

"Watch," I said firmly, and the cub’s golden eyes locked onto the red leaf in my fingers.

My hand moved slowly, carefully, as I pressed it against the cub’s foreleg, light enough not to harm but heavy enough to know danger.

The cub’s front-leg recoiled on reflex, and it whimpered, ears folding back as it looked down at the blade of grass in my fingers, then around at the sea of red grass.

Smart enough to understand.

It looked to me, then back out to the plains, and decided to settle on my chest.

It stayed there, flat against me for a long time, as if pressing closer to the one surface it now knew was safe.

I...didn’t know how to feel about that.

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When we rose eventually, I lifted it onto my pack. There was a little extra pressure on my back and shoulders, though it was pretty negligible with Silver Ranked Strength.

We walked west, watching the afternoon suns dipping lower and lower straight ahead of us.

Here too, the suns set in the west...

Hours passed.

And then...sound.

Roars, deep and echoing. Screams of effort. The snap of a bow, the crack of stone, the whistles of steel.

Battle.

I stood still for a breath, weighing it, but my body had already leaned toward the sound before I’d even decided.

Curiosity...or something else. It didn’t feel the same.

West was abandoned, and I moved towards the sounds that now grew louder with every step.

And then I heard voices, calling out formations and instructions.

I was close now.

A slope ahead. A low hill. I climbed, the cub tightening its claws into the pack straps, eyes sharp now, no longer carefree.

And at the crest, I saw.

It was no normal hill.

The clearing below was a bowl, carved straight into the land. It was perfectly clear of the grass, and bordered by hills on all sides.

Within, fifteen youths fought for their lives.

A bear. Tremor-class. Its massive shoulders rippled with muscle, black fur bristling amongst countless jutting, red thorns that dotted its thick hide. It towered at least 10 feet tall on all fours, each step sending a small shudder through the ground as it moved with unnatural speed, attacking and defending all at once against the party of what I realized were all Bronze-Ranked Hunters.

I observed, for a moment. The humans all looked to be about the same age as my own body. They all wore layered leather armor of varied color and arrangement, supported by bone-plates for protection against impact---materials no doubt sourced from a variety of beasts. Some of them used skulls for helms, some for pauldrons and one even for gauntlets.

So I’ve found some already.

Their people’s disposition was immediately apparent.

Wildlings.