Level One God

Rake smiled. “Okay, I get it. You’re mad that we’re going to kill you. That’s understandable. But I don’t think you’re grasping how much I can make you hurt before you die. That’s the thing here, Mr. Helmet. Death might be the final destination, but you’re lucky enough to decide how you get there. Think about that, hm?”

I was hardly listening. He’d been making every kind of threat he could think of for minutes now. I was tuning him out to rack my brain for ideas on how to get out of this. I was tempted to ask him more about the bait they were brewing in the cauldron, but worried that might tip them off to where my ideas were headed.

He sighed when I didn’t respond. “This is a tough one, I’ll give him that. Maybe he still thinks he’ll get out of this in one piece. Woods, right?” he asked as if his friends were paying attention. He turned his focus back to me.

I wondered how he knew I was a Wood, but then I thought about my own observations. I had been starting to think I noticed subtle clues about someone's rank, even without the help of my helmet, like a barely disguised power in their posture, a sturdiness, and even a slightly too-perfect quality to their features. It was as if increasing in rank was purifying and hardening their bodies. Irons seemed denser, almost, and I thought that perception might come from my mana sense.

He sat back down before me, working his lips to either side. “Alright. I suppose it’s time I start poking holes in you.”

“Wait,” I said. No more time to think of a better plan, then.

I summoned the legendary bed token from my slip space to my fingertips, holding it up for him to see. I went with the legendary since there was a good chance he wouldn’t even want the cursed token, even if it was technically a tier of rarity higher.

Rake’s eyes went wide beneath the shadow of his hood. His lips slowly parted, and he stared. I thought he was about to lunge for it, so I quickly made it vanish back into the safety of my slip space.

Rake looked to either side, probably confirming that Jai and The Acolyte hadn’t seen. “What are you angling at?” he asked, greed and hunger practically dripping from his voice.

“A deal,” I said.

“Speak. Quietly,” he added.

“You make sure I survive this, and it’s yours. The helmet, too.”

He licked his lips. “I could make you regret lying to me. Deeply.”

“I know it,” I said, nodding. I didn’t have to worry about acting because I believed him. He didn’t seem like the brightest man, but that made his promises of pain and torture all the more believable. “All I’m asking is you leave me be until after you deal with the briarwraith. Just focus on the fight, then we can work something out when the dust settles.”

He considered me for a long while. In a blur of flashing metal, his knife was at my throat. He held it there, eyes burning briefly before he pulled it away from my skin, laughing. “Can’t see you under that helmet, but I bet you nearly shit yourself.” He chuckled, spinning the knife and slipping it back to the holster at his hip. “Alright,” he said more quietly, giving me a subtle nod that said we had a deal.

I watched him go, then raised my fingers to touch the place on my neck where I could still feel the memory of his knife. God. That had been way too close. It was a frightening reminder of how easily I could die here–supposed divine being or not.

I had no intention of handing over my token or helmet, but the bluff didn’t cost me anything. All it did was buy me a little time.

Jai kept chanting as she flipped through the book. I shivered, noticing the sticky warmth from earlier in the day had given way to a chilly breeze. I figured it was probably because the sun was almost completely set now, and the night was creeping in.

Rake was pacing around the cauldron, tossing knives at a nearby tree, plucking them out, and staring at me with menace. It had been several minutes before he spoke again.

“Gotta wait till the last minute to chuck this shit on your friends,” he said with a conversational tone. “Doesn’t last that long.” He shrugged. “For what the ingredients cost us, you’d think the shit should last ages, eh?”

The Acolyte seemed to have to focus on keeping the red mist over the others, but I could sense his annoyance with the constant chatter of Rake.

I watched my party's unconscious forms. I was glad they didn’t know their lives were hanging by the thin thread of my shaky plan. If nothing else, I was glad the townspeople hadn’t been dragged into this. They would have been close enough to hear what happened in the cave, and I figured they would take their best shot at moving on if we didn’t come back for them soon.

I felt slightly better knowing at least some lives didn’t depend on me pulling this off. Of course, I still didn’t want to die here.

My jaw hurt from clenching. I kept running through my options, endlessly calculating how it could go wrong. The problem was the number of variables I couldn’t predict. Could people in this world sense when I used magic? How long would I have before the briarwraith was summoned? Would they wake up as soon as the old man was distracted, or did he need to die for the spell to end? And maybe, most importantly, could I form a successful Forge Echo of my weapon for the first time under this much pressure?

There were more unknowns than I liked, but I also didn’t need to know everything. All I needed to do was control what I could. Thankfully, I had a pretty good idea for how to introduce a heavy dose of chaos to the mix, which might be all we needed.

I still tried to think of some other, less risky plan, but nothing came to mind. The problem was how stacked the odds were against me. It was three Irons and a creature they needed an edge to win against. On equal footing, we stood no chance of surviving against that if things went how they expected.

That meant I needed to introduce change. If I succeeded, the victor might just be whoever could adapt to the chaos first.

Time seemed to be racing by too quickly.

More frequent breezes brought a rush of oddly cold air from ahead. The fire had mostly warmed me up after thawing out of Jai’s magic, but I was shivering again.

The woman chanted aloud as she read the book. The Acolyte kept looking over his shoulder, staring into the darkening woods with apprehension.

My party stayed motionless and captive beneath the slowly flowing cloud of red mist.

I shifted where I sat. Some primal part of my brain was screaming for me to run—telling me I could maybe save myself if I just waited for the right moment and bolted.

I ignored it. Even if I could slip away by some miracle, I wouldn’t want to live with myself. Some version of myself had come to this world and taken every scrap of power possible. I was certain I hadn’t done that by running, hiding, and shrinking away from challenges. I also knew myself. I wouldn’t strive for that kind of power for no reason. I would’ve wanted to protect something. To help someone.

Whatever the reason, I knew I wasn’t going to get back to the top again by running, hiding, or abandoning the people who put their trust in me. Frankly, fuck that. I’d go down swinging, even if it was hopeless.

I knew this much: I hated running from people who deserved to be punished. If nothing else, I needed to survive this so I could get stronger and go back to those ruins outside Riverwell and kill that lich.

It took a little effort, but I calmed myself down and returned to thoughts of my plan. I was turning over every detail, searching for areas I could improve.

Eventually, Rake grew bored of stirring the cauldron and glaring at me. He wandered over to stand behind Jai. The grimoire was now floating on its own, giving off soft blue light. The wind whipped at her, tossing her hair into chaos and occasionally flipping a page of the book.

I knew fear was trying to grip me, but I did my best to ignore it. With a slightly shaking hand, I discreetly summoned a few siphons from my slip space, tucking them into one of my belt pouches. Next, I produced my Alchemist’s Kit, holding it to the side opposite Rake and Jai, even though they were both engrossed with the book.

With my thumb, I popped the stopper off the bottle and tipped its contents into the dirt behind me. The poison ran down the slight incline, sizzling but not so loudly that it was audible over the rushing wind.

For this to work, I needed my Alchemist’s Kit and its Echo to be empty. And, of course, I needed to hope I could actually form an Echo for the first time.

Even though I knew I had to do it, dumping my second-to-last batch of rot poison was painful. If I got out of this alive, I was going to wish I could have that back.

My breath was coming in ragged puffs now. Each exhale misted into a cold cloud that was blown away in seconds. With my heart thumping like a caged beast, I slipped the now-empty bottle up the sleeve of my robe.

Once I had calmed my breathing again, I stared hard at the cauldron. I tried to form an image in my mind of the liquid inside. I even picked up the scents in the air, adding to my understanding, even though I didn’t know how much of this was necessary or if what I was trying to do was possible.

It was now or never.

Three… Two… One…

I used Forge Echo to summon a duplicate of my Alchemist’s Kit inside the cauldron.

For several seconds, I thought it had failed.

Then, I noticed a faint, tingling sense of awareness in the direction of the cauldron pressing at my mind. The echo was formed. I could feel it inside the cauldron.

But I still didn’t know if I’d actually succeeded. If it was like all my attempts before now, it would be nothing but insubstantial mist.

Carefully, I tried to lift the echo of my weapon upwards. Dread punched into me when I saw a loose cloud of mist rise up and dissipate from the liquid.

Shit.

I tried again and again until sweat was beading on my brow.

It wasn’t working.

I completely drained my mana reserves twice and had to wait for the perfect moment to suck down siphons. Terror itched up my spine, whispering that I should give it up—that I was doomed.

But I kept trying, only pausing when Rake looked my way or when I needed to replenish my mana again.

Minutes passed as the wind grew stronger and the cold grew deeper. Frost started to form on nearby trees, creeping up their trunks with sharp cracking sounds. I shivered harder, scooting as close to the fire as possible without burning myself.

“How much longer?” Rake asked.

Jai’s lip twitched, but she didn’t look up from the book or pause her chanting.

Apparently unable to handle even a moment of boredom, Rake wandered back to me, kneeling and staring at me. “Why do you look like you’re up to something?”

I stiffened.

He chuckled again, punching my arm hard enough to bruise. “Fuckin’ with you.” Then he leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Cause I know you’re up to something. We both are, eh? We got a deal.”

“Now!” Jai called, snapping the book shut and standing. Her eyes shone with focus as crackling frost coated her from neck to toe. The frost deepened until chunks of glacial blue ice sprouted from her skin, encasing her in a jagged suit of icy armor that twinkled in the dwindling sunlight. Cold mist roiled away from her frozen body, and her eyes had gone pale. She looked terrifying.

Rake gave me a wink, then went to pick up the cauldron.

I pulled together every last ounce of focus I could manage. I waited for calm to come. When it didn’t, I glared at the cauldron until it felt like I’d taken calm by the throat and dragged it close. It was working.

Peace washed over me. I felt the world go still. I knew if I didn’t succeed, I was going to die, along with everybody from my group and maybe even the townspeople we’d left back at the cave.

I let out a slow breath, eyes closed.

I formed the most perfect image of my Alchemist’s Kit I could, imagining it floating inside the cauldron. I focused on the angles of the bottle and the subtle curve of its lip. I thought of the thickness of the glass and the feel of its weight in my hand—of how heavy it was when empty versus when it was full.

I clung to the image in my mind with a white-knuckle grip, gently easing the mana from my body out and toward the cauldron.

I sensed the echo taking shape inside the cauldron, but I didn’t know yet if I’d succeeded. Even if I did, I wasn’t even sure I could fill an empty echo with new liquid.

No pressure.

Rake picked up the cauldron with both hands, carrying it with more ease than should be possible, given its size and how full it was. I tried to predict the path of the cauldron, commanding my weapon’s echo to stay within the container as he moved. If I succeeded and made something more substantial, I didn’t want it clinking against the sides of the cauldron as he hauled it toward The Acolyte.

A hard shiver ran straight down my spine. I curled a little tighter into myself.

With dread, I noticed the forest had gone completely silent. There was no chirp of animals or rustling of leaves. The branches overhead had all turned bone white, glistening, and sparkling with pure ice.

A glassy clink from inside the cauldron made Rake stop and look down. “Huh?” he said.

At the same moment, I saw motes of frost forming in the air all around me. They were mesmerizing—appearing out of thin air, growing until they were about the size of an insect, and falling to the forest floor under their own weight. The sound quickly replaced the forest's silence with a kind of musical tinkle like thousands of delicate glasses tapping together in every direction.

Jai had dropped the book now. She was busy reinforcing her icy armor until she looked as bulky as a snowman. “Hurry, Rake,” she hissed. “It’s close.”

Rake rushed to the group and set the cauldron down.

Come on, I thought, still mentally gripping the image of the bottle as firmly as I could.

My pulse was racing. It was time.

I lifted the echo of my weapon from the cauldron.

A fully formed, ghostly green mirror of my Alchemist’s Kit shot upward, slopping the cauldron’s contents in every direction. My chest clenched with relief when I saw the echo was full to the brim with the bait liquid.

Rake dove out of the way, but not before the emerging bottle sloshed liquid from the cauldron that spattered his leather leggings.

“Shit, shit, shit!” he shouted, trying to brush it off himself. The mixture on his legs was letting off an ethereal white mist that clouded and formed into stretched out faces as it rose into the air.

I lifted the real, but empty Alchemist’s Bottle. I summoned the echo to myself, then carefully commanded it to pour the bait liquid inside my Alchemist’s Kit. To my relief, it worked.

Without hesitating, I used the last of my mana to project a stream of the concoction at The Acolyte, who was still distracted with his chanting.

He turned at the last moment, raising his hands as a jet of brown slop splashed all over him, knocking him to the side. More white wisps of magic streamed up from him, rising high into the air.

The red mist dispersed as soon as his concentration broke.

And then chaos reigned.

Bloody Steve woke immediately—perhaps because of his rank— and unsheathed both hammers, bolting straight for Jai. The others were taking longer to wake. Rake was pulling off his pants, which were covered in bait liquid. The Acolyte stared down at himself in confused horror. Jai was running—either from Bloody Steve or the thing I saw coming through the trees.

[Briarwraith, Level 50 (Silver)] “These dimensional beasts cannot be killed in the traditional sense. They will feed on pure memory until satiated, then return to add the memories to the Deep Stream. Though they cannot be killed, causing a dimensional beast to return to its home realm often yields great rewards.”

I didn’t have time to wonder what the hell that meant.

A white orb drifted toward us. It couldn’t have been larger than a basketball. It was a fuzzy, featureless spot of light. But there was something in the slow, unrelenting approach. I sensed a deep intelligence. And I sensed danger. There was a deadly purpose within that orb, and it chilled me in a way that had nothing to do with the rapidly growing cold.

I noticed more movement.

Every tree it passed started to shake and stir. One ice-covered tree wrenched itself out of the ground, shaking clusters of roots like they were legs. It tipped forward and started crawling like a spider, long branches churning like the arms of an insect.

Dozens more trees were waking, falling, and then rushing straight for us.

Oh, fuck.