Chapter 5 Wolves

I stalked forwards, low, spear in hand. The evening had drawn on. I had spent the better half of a day crafting my weapons. Now I would see how my crafting efforts would be rewarded.

Another scream. Louder. I was getting closer.

I knew others would feel the urge to rush forwards. Someone was clearly in danger, and that scream was primal, pained, but I felt no such impulse. The jungle was expansive, the terrain unknown to me. What was I walking into? A full-scale battle? A single person attacked by a wolf? A pack? Rushing in without first judging would have been foolhardy.

My slither tag gave me a boost to stealth, and I guessed that dexterity also aided that. When I moved, the sounds of my footfall against the jungle floor were somewhat muffled, whilst the sounds of the jungle were sharper than anything I’d ever heard. I wasn’t quite a snake, slithering unseen across the jungle floor, but neither was I a bumbling human, a tourist loudly announcing himself.

‘Stay back!’ I heard a man’s voice say. Close. So close. I stalked until the scene came into view. There were three of them, humans, and judging by the horror on their faces they were avatars like me, plucked from the real world and placed within these death games. A woman was on the floor, her leg horribly mangled. Something had taken a huge chunk out of it. Her face was pale, glassy. She had lost a lot of blood, and was clearly fighting to remain conscious.

Surrounding her were two men. They held weapons, one a club, the other a long curved pole, its end blooming out bent over like metal melted against too much heat. I guessed that was a shaman’s staff. None of them wore the primitive armour that I did, theirs were fur-lined. And blood-stained.

‘We need to call Raymond!’ said one of the men. Three wolves were circling the avatars, two of which already had blood on their fangs.

‘I told you this was a bad idea!’ whimpered the woman on the ground.

‘Quiet!’ said the first man. ‘Stay together, we survive.’

‘I’m out of mana!’ said the man holding the shaman’s staff. My eyes narrowed, ignoring the avatars and examining the wolves.

[Wolf – Level three – Wild and deeply territorial, these wolves will range in packs across enormous territories. Deadly alone, deadlier together. Do not underestimate them.]

Level three. Shit. It was only then that I realised that in my bid to escape the tutorial zone, I’d only picked my Hunter’s class, and had completely forgotten to level up. I was still a measly level one, against three higher level mobs. I gripped my spear. No arrows either. I cursed again. Some hunter I was.

The three avatars were closing ranks as a wolf charged in. It lunged in a straight line, jumping two feet into the air, and launching at the throat of the shaman. They tussled for a moment, as the shaman’s eyes locked to mine. I felt dread in my spine as the wolf tore his throat apart like wet tissue paper. Blood sprayed against the jungle floor, and I knew what it would cost to make a mistake. To underestimate this world.

The woman screamed again.

I wanted to walk away. Every fibre of my being told me this wasn’t my fight. I didn’t know these people. They had made their choice, they would have to live and die by them. It was nothing to me. You didn’t take stupid fucking risks for people whose own stupidity had killed themselves.

I almost took a step away, leaving this scene of carnage.

Almost.

I rushed from my spot, hidden behind a tree, and immediately went to spear one wolf who was slightly further from the others. My spear met flesh, my aim true, and it sunk deep within the matted fur. The wolf gave a feeble howl, and keeled over. I was shocked. I hadn’t expected it to die in one hit. I spared precious seconds to check the combat log in my menu, and thankfully I was now proficient enough to operate it quickly and saw I had struck a critical blow from stealth, with a damage multiplier of 2.2.

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The woman on the ground may have not been able to move, but she could fire a bow. One of her arrows hit its mark, wounding one wolf, whilst the man attempted to hit it with his club. His strike was wildly off however, as the wounded wolf pounced at him with the same movement as the last. The two of them tussled with one another, man versus beast, rolling, struggling. It was difficult to see who had the upper hand, but when they finally stopped, I saw.

Both were dead.

There was one wolf left, and I saw her attempt to draw an arrow, but when she reached for her quiver, she drew only air. Empty.

This last wolf was larger than the other two. It had dark fur, almost black, its yellow eyes staring not at the injured woman but me. An enormous scar lined it, from snout to ear. It growled low. I gripped my spear tightly, eyes narrowed, stance widened.

I had killed its brother. The wolf saw red. The wolf saw me.