NOVEL NEXT Chapter 11
Logan's heart seized as he and the prowler locked eyes. The black, velvety skin at its muzzle's edge turned upward at the corners, revealing yellowed fangs. The predator was smiling at him!
It leaped to an adjacent branch with fluid ease, advancing toward Logan. Logan fumbled, rolling his shoulder along the tree trunk at his spine for an added boost to sprint away, but his feet tangled in exposed roots, made lumpy by Moonbloom nodules. He finally tore his foot away in a small puff of pale blue spores, but the delay had cost him valuable seconds he didn't have.
"This is why I will never be a cat person!"
Logan's eyes bulged with his effort to take in the entire forest floor as it blurred below his racing feet. Difficult as it was to focus on any one detail, he identified areas to avoid, like more knotted tangles of raised, sprawling surface roots.
He never bothered glancing behind him to see how close the prowler was; he could hear bark shredding under its sharp claws as it gained on him. Ahead, squirrels squeaked and fled before the chase put them in the prowler's path.
Logan racked his brain for a way out of this mess, but he drew blanks. How could he distract the prowler when he was navigating its home terrain and the only other animals were squirrels and bees?
Squirrels and bees.
Squirrels and bees…
Squirrels and... "Bees!"
Logan extended his arm with a cupped palm as he approached the next tree. His hand slapped the rough bark, which tore at his skin, but he didn't stop running. His forward momentum carried him, and he only released his hand from the tree after he hooked around it in a U-turn.
The prowler passed just overhead as it swiped a claw down at his face, but he ducked and the prowler's inertia carried it deeper into the thicket behind Logan. It yowled, and branches snapped and creaked as the beast turned to continue its pursuit.
This small area's terrain was familiar enough to him from just racing by that he spared darting glances among the tree branches. Where was that beehive? It couldn't be far.
All he found were abandoned squirrel dens, with drakla pits still rolling from the small prey animals' escapes to safety. One even hit Logan on the forehead as it fell from its perch outside the squirrel burrows. That gave him an idea.
No way was he fast enough to climb a tree and upset the beehive before the prowler killed him. He would need to throw something at it and try to knock it to the ground.
A handful of pits piled at a tree's base, fallen from the squirrel abodes above. He bent and scooped a handful, but most bounced out of his grip in his hurry.
Two shots. That was all he had.
His father loved baseball.
"Don't flail, throw. You're not painting the fence."
He dragged Logan to every local game, rain or shine, muttering stuff like "I hope you took pointers" and "It's not the ball's fault you've got no follow-through."
Logan had struck out so many times they once called him "Three-Swing Logan" for an entire season. And that was a damn community team. Which, of course, he had never wanted to join in the first place, but that hadn't been his choice.
Logan sucked at the sport, but hopefully all that practice with throwing stones at torch slugs would pay off.
The black cat's teeth snapped somewhere above him, and Logan hooked around another tree, twice this time, just in case the cat was expecting him to make a U-turn again.
The bet paid off, and Logan sped onward as he gained another few moments.
"The beehive! There it is!"
He angled himself toward the looming tree, the cat hissing in hot pursuit.
"I can do this!"
As he ran, Logan wound his arm and released. The pit soared as Logan passed under the tree and kept running, neck craning to follow its trajectory. It sailed directly past the hive.
Cursing, Logan performed another hook. The cat, though, had figured out his trick maneuver. It slowed itself before passing over Logan, and it stood facing him, one limb's reach up, ten feet ahead. It launched itself from the branch, forelimbs outstretched, eyes narrow slits as it wailed, teeth bared in anticipation of its human meal.
Logan used his momentum to fall to the ground and slide through the damp forest soil. For a transitory moment, he and the prowler locked eyes, Logan close enough to feel its hot breath against his face. The great beast swiped as they passed each other. It barely grazed his left shoulder, and yet his health bar popped into his HUD and plummeted below 50%.
At least Logan was right-handed. Even as he slid, he threw the stone up, almost directly vertical. The beehive swayed as the seed struck true, and then fell.
The cat had landed on all fours and pivoted in a feat of acrobatic mastery. It lunged for Logan, and the only thing that saved him was the beehive crashing on its head, knocking the prowler to the floor.
A concussive blast exploded from the contact and Logan shielded his eyes as fragments of dried hive husk splintered past him. Then came the buzz.
Name: Bristlewing Bee
Type: Insect
Logan scrambled to his feet and broke back into a desperate run as he glanced behind him to calculate how much time he earned. His health bar jerked downward with three successive blips as bees the size of Logan's thumb stung his neck and arm. If not for his recent level ups, he would be dead twice over. One got its barbed stinger stuck in his shoulder and he had to yank it out. He was lucky only a few bees targeted him.
The cat lacked his luck. Honey glazed its fur, and the bristlewings bombarded it. On its back, the prowler flailed with every paw to thwart the bees attacking it. It failed, and the bee's giant stingers tore at its pelt with such fury, the beast started bleeding as patches of fur shredded under the assault.
Logan caught his breath, and fell into a fit of maniacal laughter. "Take that, ya filthy animal!" His level of spite surprised him, but only for a moment. He would survive.
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The cat's neck shifted as the vengeful beast glared at him. Then it looked at the ground. Logan followed its gaze to one especially fat bee. Unlike the flying army, this one waddled in the dirt, small wings unable to lift its huge abdomen.
Was that… the queen bee?
The cat slapped its thick, padded paw and reduced the plump queen to goey splatter soaking into soil.
Chaos erupted as the coordinated throng of winged insects scattered. Some bees circled their fallen royalty, others retreated to the broken hive's husk, but the majority careened in every direction of the forest's depths.
The few that remained to attack the prowler slowed, and the predator finished them with three simple swipes.
Panting heavily, the great cat righted itself and stalked toward a frozen Logan.
Its baleful stare sent a chill down his spine; his adrenaline spent, he was stuck, his legs refusing to carry him any further. Its sleek black fur, rended in patches, slid over its shoulder blades as the apex predator crept closer, hunger in its eyes.
Finally, Logan pried his foot free from his fear-stricken daze. His heel caught over the rim of a root infested with moonbloom nodules.
Dumb as the idea was, Logan was doomed if he didn't try it.
He stopped in his tracks, and bared his teeth back at the cat.
Fury incited, his foe propelled itself into the air. Logan held his breath and threw himself to the ground. Moonbloom nodules crunched under his crashing weight, exploding into a massive blue pollen cloud.
Every cut on Logan's skin burned as if he had dipped himself in vinegar. Worst was the deep gash in his shoulder, the pain of which his body finally registered. It stung his eyes and so he clenched them shut, rolling along the irregular root knuckles, popping more moonbloom pods. Claws swiped at him, but without lethal intention. The cat had to be as blinded as he was, and it had more exposed wounds than Logan. He kept rolling, chancing occasional bleary glances until he freed himself from the blue haze.
The nerves in his shoulder flared in jagged pain, and something unexpected drew Logan's attention to his HUD. For the first time, Logan's mana bar showed there. It was already empty. Worse, his health was dipping too, an apparent result of mana poisoning. He scrambled into his pockets for the last bits of gray cave moss and immediately started chewing.
At least the cat suffered from the effects too. Blisters covered the patches of visible skin where bees had flayed its flesh. Drool dripped from its loose jaw as it lumbered to Logan.
Only now did Logan notice the prowler was Level 67.
I don't think I'm winning any giant slaying titles against this kitty.
Too weary to run, he supported himself with a hand against a tree.
Then a great shadow blocked out the patchwork light piercing the canopy.
Logan and his soon-to-be killer paused as their eyes flicked up. The shadow passed once more, and clumps of wilted leaves gave way to whatever soared above.
With the cat distracted, Logan mustered what strength he had left to drag himself behind the tree.
He peered from his hiding place just as branches snapped to reveal a massive scaled leg crash through the foliage and pin the prowler to the forest floor.
Logan watched, dumbstruck, as dinosaur-like talons rended fur. Bloody mist geysered from the prowler and quickly obscured the beast.
Logan rubbed his eyes, unsure if the sight was just a hallucination induced by mana poisoning. A thin stream of blood sluiced through the air and slapped him on the forehead, promptly ending his doubt. He tucked his head back behind the tree, not trusting himself to elude the newcomer's notice.
He gasped when it registered what he had seen. That was no dinosaur. That was a full-on, vicious dragon. The scaled goliath was at least twenty feet tall!
Hidden in silence, he listened to every snap of torn tendons and ripped muscles. When the wet squelches diminished, Logan's awe outweighed his fear.
He dared another glance.
The dragon's ridged spine faced him as it slowly lifted its neck, finished with its meal. What happened next was even more bizarre than encountering a dragon in a forest that smelled like a compost heap.
The dragon's body bubbled.
At first, Logan thought it was growing, like Bruce Banner turning into the Hulk. But it ended up the opposite outcome. The dragon shrank, each squishy, disconcerting churn beneath its scales reducing its size to match Logan's. The membranous wings thinned and rounded off into nubs that sank into the creature's back, where pink flesh replaced the dark purple scales. Clothing stitched itself into existence around a feminine frame, keeping the transformation modest, and long hair—crimped, and a deep brown that kept the purple lustre from the now-absent scales—fell past its wearer's waist.
Was this a... human?
A bewildered Logan Analyzed.
Name: Unknown Villager
Race: Human
Type: Person
Level: 19
Lore: Humans are the most adaptable and resourceful of all System-aligned species. While physically and magically average, humans make up for their shortcomings with unmatched versatility and vast numbers.
Strength: Inventive
Weakness: Harsh climates
Analyze is level 12!
That settled it. Logan was hallucinating from mana poisoning. It was the only plausible explanation. In no world had a Level 19 Human just shredded a level 67 Black Prowler with her bare hands.
But she hadn't used hands. She had used talons.
Could humans become dragons here? Or could dragons become humans? Was this some other shapeshifting race he had never heard of before, one with an unfamiliar name like the aerudine?
Whatever the case, this was somebody other than a slug or a squirrel.
Indecision and wariness stalled Logan as he considered revealing himself to her.
If he did, would she tear him apart? He looked at the prowler.
No, she couldn't. He wasn't a beast. He was a human, just like her. Maybe.
She tilted her head and her ears cocked slightly toward him. He retreated until he could only see a sliver of her from his hiding place. Her nostrils flared, and he swallowed, wondering if she smelled him.
She opened her mouth, took two deep breaths, and then—
hah-CHOO!
She doubled over with the cacophonous sneeze.
"Ugh, I hate moonblooms."
She straightened her dress and wiped her nose with the back of her hands, but sneezed again.
She's allergic to moonblooms? Seriously? And she speaks English? At least those details were humanizing.
Logan prepared to reveal himself, but her next words came in a low growl.
"I will find you, Champion. No matter where you are."
Logan tucked himself fully behind the tree. Nope. Not revealing myself.
He clamped his hand over his mouth until long after her footsteps retreated into the forest. Even then, he waited all the way until sounds of forest life returned to the area, and then he waited some more.
While he waited, he meditated and tried to process what he had seen and how that fit into his survival. That raised his Meditate to 4.
He was pretty annoyed that he hadn't gained any experience toward a new level from that. Why not? He thought back to his other level up. The System had only given him experience for enemies he himself had defeated, like Iron, Silence, and the torch slug. If he had landed a swipe at the big cat, would he at least have gotten partial experience? At least now he was learning a bit about how the System factored this stuff.
A second thought occurred to him, though. If he had gotten partial experience, would that dragon have been notified of a shared gain? A lot of gaming systems he was familiar with did that. If so, it might have given his presence away. Maybe it was for the for the best… Besides, all that would have assumed his level 4 self could have actually landed a strike against the level 67 predator without becoming its dinner.
He knew nothing about this world other than some magical stone had summoned him as a champion and launched him into a series of death traps. He desperately wanted to find people to ask questions. Perhaps it should have dawned on him earlier that he might need to be careful about finding the right people to ask questions, though. Killer shapeshifting dragons hunting him in the wild were not his first pick.
But he couldn't survive out here on his own forever, and the human lore suggested vast numbers. Surely they couldn't all be out to get him. Plus, who would know if he was this alleged champion? He hoped his Exalted Kin race remained hidden from others' Analyze abilities. Something about that sounded a bit too champion-like.
He needed a cover story.
When he finally came out of hiding, a family of flicktail squirrels was taking turns chucking drakla pit at the nearly unrecognizable prowler carcass.
He whistled low. "Spiteful little buggers."
He couldn't blame them, though. How long ago had he reveled as the ferocious feline cowered beneath the militant bristlewing swarm?
Logan approached the gory scene, and the squirrels clicked their teeth at him before scampering away. With his foot, he nudged a severed paw, one of the few indicators that this bloody mess had once been a prowler. What little he had in his stomach churned, and he vomited.
Still, he couldn't help but smile. He wiped the edge of his mouth, bent down, and picked up the grotesquely sticky amputation.
"I think it's about time I make myself a proper weapon."