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The first success sent him through the clouds.
He actually jumped.
Threw a fist bump at the sky.
"Ha!"
Then immediately dove back down to the four skin patches laid neatly on the ground like sacred relics.
He bit his thumb again, wincing.
Blood welled.
One inscription — Burst.
Second — Flash.
The glyph lines shimmered faintly before settling.
"Need more skin for experiments…" he muttered, scanning the forest line.
No immediate movement.
No tremor.
No rattle.
Safe. For now.
He pulled out his makeshift bone daggers and examined them carefully.
Rough edges.
Ash-stained grooves.
Still serviceable.
His mind echoed the mantra from earlier.
Stab. Withdraw. Step. Swipe.
An itch crawled up the back of his skull.
He stood.
Gripped both daggers.
Paused.
"…Wait."
He looked at his hand.
Flexed it.
Opened. Closed. Rotated the wrist.
No pain.
The burn from earlier was gone.
His eyes widened.
"Wait—it's healed?!!"
He waved it around like an idiot.
Stretched his fingers.
Pressed on the scar.
Nothing.
For a brief moment, wonder overtook hunger.
Then survival came back.
He raised the daggers again.
"Now let's see… stab… swipe… dodge… double stab… turn…"
His form was awkward.
Feet too wide.
Elbows flaring.
Balance shifting wrong.
He could feel it.
Everything was off.
His foundation.
His strength.
His center.
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"Tsk, tsk…"
A voice floated lazily through the trees.
"Look at that monkey."
Lady White sat atop a distant cliff, one leg swinging freely.
She popped a small berry-like fruit into her mouth.
Her face immediately contorted.
Her eyelids twitched violently.
"Ugh—why is that so sour?!"
She swallowed anyway.
Then looked back at Eylin.
"Why swing around some teeth when you can bombard them with spells?" She tilted her head. "Ah right. You can't."
She burst into laughter at her own joke.
"Aaah… comedy genius."
Her gaze zoomed out, widening its scope.
Something moved in the underbrush.
Heavy.
Low.
Brutish.
An Ashbourne Porcupine.
Heading straight toward Eylin.
Her brows lifted in interest.
She gave a light whistle.
"Ooooh. This is getting interesting."
She vanished.
—
BOOM.
A mushroom cloud of dust erupted miles away as she reappeared, casually obliterating an Ashbourne Ox in a single strike.
The creature roasted instantly, steam rising from its hide.
"That's more like it," she muttered, hoisting the entire carcass over her shoulder like it weighed nothing.
She walked back toward Eylin's location.
—
Ahead—
She stopped.
Her gaze locked onto him.
He was on the ground.
Push-up position.
And it was… tragic.
His back sagged.
Arms trembling like vibrating wires.
Sweat dripping.
"One… two… ha… ha… haa…"
He tried again.
Collapsed face-first into dirt.
Lady White stared.
"…This is painful."
Eylin rolled onto his back.
"Damn…" he muttered, wiping dust from his face.
"Glad I'm alone. I'd have nowhere to hide my face after that… this is sick."
His stomach growled loudly.
Groooowl.
He froze.
Looked down.
"Yeah, yeah. I heard you."
Another growl.
Longer.
Demanding.
"Fuck… need some food. But nothing around here looks edible."
He stood, gathered his gear, slid the glyph-engraved skins carefully into his satchel.
Covered the cave entrance with rocks and brush.
Then licked his index finger and raised it dramatically to the wind.
He waited.
The breeze brushed left.
He turned right.
"Wind's moving that way… then I go this way."
He nodded confidently.
Lady White slowly blinked.
"…Is he stupid?"
He walked off in the exact wrong direction.
After a few steps he paused.
"Oh."
He pulled out his bone daggers mid-walk and began practicing.
Stab.
Swipe.
Turn.
Almost tripped.
Recovered.
"How long should I stay in here?" he asked the trees.
Silence.
"One year?"
Swipe.
"Maybe two?"
Stab.
He imagined it.
Living here two years.
His face darkened.
"Yeah… two months it is."
He snorted.
"Two years. I'm not that suicidal."
Lady White followed from a distance, Ashbourne Ox on her shoulder, grinning like someone watching a reality show.
Behind Eylin—
The Ashbourne Porcupine entered the clearing.
It lowered its head.
Quills rattling softly.
It began to track him.
And this time—
He wasn't ready
Leaves crunch beneath Eylin's boots.
Stab.
Swipe.
Turn.
He nearly slices his own sleeve.
"Clean," he mutters to himself, completely serious.
Behind him—
The forest goes quiet.
Not gradually.
Suddenly.
No insects.
No wind.
No distant bird calls.
Just the soft, rhythmic rattle of something brushing against bark.
Lady White slows her pace.
Her eyes narrow slightly.
"There it is."
The Ashbourne Porcupine moves low through the brush. Larger than the last. Its quills are darker — tipped in a faint crimson sheen.
Its snout presses to the soil.
Sniffing.
Tracking.
Eylin continues practicing.
"Stab, swipe, dodge—"
A twig snaps.
He freezes mid-swing.
Slowly turns his head.
"…Probably nothing."
He resumes walking.
The porcupine's quills rise.
A low vibration builds inside its chest.
Rrrrrrrrrrrrr—
Lady White sighs.
"Oh this will hurt."
Eylin steps over a root.
His foot sinks slightly into disturbed soil.
His brow furrows.
That wasn't there before.
Too late.
BOOM.
The ground behind him explodes.
Dirt erupts upward as the Ashbourne Porcupine bursts from beneath the surface like a living spear.
Eylin barely turns before—
WHAM.
A wall of bristling quills slams into him.
He's launched forward, tumbling across the forest floor.
His breath leaves his lungs in a violent choke.
He rolls twice.
Three times.
Stops.
Everything rings.
He tries to inhale—
Pain.
Sharp.
Burning.
He looks down.
Two quills embedded in his shoulder.
One grazed his ribs.
"Ah—!"
The porcupine doesn't pause.
It charges again.
Fast.
Too fast.
Eylin scrambles to his feet, legs unsteady.
"Flash—!"
He slams a glyph patch against his chest.
It ignites.
A sharp pulse of light detonates around him.
The world flickers.
For a split second—
Reality glitches.
He disappears.
The porcupine barrels through empty space.
Eylin reappears several meters away, stumbling hard onto one knee.
Breathing ragged.
"Okay—okay—okay—"
The porcupine skids, turns with terrifying agility.
Its eyes lock onto him.
No hesitation.
Quills vibrate again.
This time louder.
Eylin yanks one dagger free.
Blood runs down his arm.
"Stab. Withdraw. Step."
His voice shakes.
The porcupine lowers its head.
The ground trembles.
Lady White watches from a branch above, chin resting in her palm.
"Now this…" she murmurs.
"…is interesting."
The beast charges.
Eylin doesn't think.
He moves.
But this time—
Not clumsy.
Not rehearsed.
Instinct.
At the last second he pivots sideways.
The world feels slower.
Too slow.
The porcupine's movement stutters in his vision—
Like frames dropping.
Like something skipping.
His dagger drives down.
Not into hide—
Into the soft seam beneath its jaw.
The blade sinks deeper than it should.
For a fraction of a second—
The wound fractures with faint digital cracks.
The porcupine screams.
Eylin rips the blade free and dives away as quills fire outward in a violent spray.
Several slam into trees.
One grazes his thigh.
He crashes behind a trunk.
Heart pounding.
Blood dripping.
The porcupine staggers.
Its wound flickers unnaturally.
Lady White straightens slowly.
"Oh?"
Her smile widens.
"Ohhh."
Eylin stares at his dagger.
At the faint distortion still rippling along its edge.
"…What the hell was that?"
The porcupine roars and charges again.
This time—
Eylin smiles back.
