Stolen by the System

Ted froze as best he could, a tricky task while stifling an inappropriate chuckle. Right on cue.

“Something funny?” the feminine voice demanded. It was closer this time, nearly right behind him, accompanied by the faint hum of a bowstring being plucked.

His blood ran cold, all too easily imagining the arrow no doubt pointed at the back of his head. Given the circumstances, it seemed unwise to test the sharp edge in her voice.

“Drop the… weapon, and put your hands above your head.”

He dropped it immediately. That stupid stick wasn’t worth the risk. If it came to it, grappling would be better, anyway. Maybe he could overpower her, or at least stop her from filling him full of arrows.

Maybe.

He raised his arms, and pain flared back into agony, his broken arm all too eager to remind him he was in no state to fight. “Is this how you treat all your guests?”

“Speak Common, human.” The or else hummed in the air, twice as ominous for being unsaid.

Common? But he only spoke—

Huh. Every word she’d spoken had made perfect sense, yet none of them had been in English. He looked inward again, focusing on languages. There it was, Common, right alongside English. “I said, is this how you treat all your guests?”

“Only the ones faking their stats.”

“I’m not faking anything.”

She scoffed. “Don’t treat me like I was born last year. Level 1, really? What, you live in a burrow your entire life?”

Blood pounded in Ted’s ears. If this was the hunter he’d been looking for, she’d sent running a wolf that, even half-dead, had torn a good chuck out of him. He had no intel, no weapons, and a broken arm to boot. He had to tread carefully, whatever that meant amidst this insanity.

The pain in his raised arm screamed louder, drowning out any semblance of rational thought. He couldn’t spin a believable lie even if he’d wanted to, not now. The truth would have to be enough. “I got dumped here from another world. I reached level 1 after killing a half-dead wolf.”

Silence met his words, each second ticking by like an eternity.

What would being shot by an arrow feel like? He bit his lip and swallowed. Asking that was a mistake, one his imagination all too eagerly took advantage of.

The silence dragged on and on. She didn’t believe him, did she?

Of course not. He certainly wouldn’t have.

Shit. He needed a plan for when it inevitably got even worse—a plan other than dying.

How far back was she? He closed his eyes and focused on every little sound, sifting through distant birdsong and the faint rustling of leaves to try and tell how close she was.

Nothing. Whoever she was, she was completely silent. A useful skill, no doubt, for a hunter—just like archery.

Sweat gathered on his brow. He was telling the truth; she had to believe him.

He gulped. When had that ever mattered?

“Go on,” she finally said. Her tone was softer than before, with a welcome hint of warmth. “What do you mean by ‘dumped’?”

Stale air rushed out of his lungs. He wasn’t dead yet. “I don’t know. One moment I was walking down an alley, the next, icy darkness enveloped me.” He shivered just thinking about it. “When I woke up, I was in this forest.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re level 1.” The sharp, prodding tone was back.

From the sound of her voice, he could tell she was close, but still too far away to have a hope in hell of reaching her before taking an arrow to the face. Smart. “Levels don’t exist where I come from.”

Another harrowing pause. “Turn around.”

He moved slowly, partly not to give her trigger finger any excuses, but mostly because of the agony burning in his broken arm. “Can I at least lower—”

The sight of her pointed ears ripped the words right out of his throat. She wasn’t human.

Piercing emerald eyes stared at him from beneath a chestnut pixie cut. The woman looked young, about the same age as him, not that that necessarily meant a thing. For one fleeting moment, all he could see was the curiosity and determination battling it out behind those bright, wide eyes, silently deciding his fate.

Then reality set in, and the fully drawn recurve bow pointed at his face jumped straight to the top, taking up positions one, two, and three on “Most important things to worry about”. For once, the part of him that asked perfectly reasonable questions like, “Is she an elf?” and, “Are elves real?” had the good sense to shut up and pray it got a turn.

The five-foot-tall woman’s gaze flicked to his injured arm and back, boring into him. “Tell me that again, to my eyes this time.”

His pulse raced, tingling excitement colliding head-on with the urge to flee. Not that he’d get far. “We don’t have levels where I come from.” Or elves.

Her expression softened and she pressed her lips together, her head slowly tilting from side to side. “How do you know how strong something is?”

Ted bit back his instinctual answer. Telling her they’d wiped out almost everything dangerous wasn’t exactly the impression he was going for. “Experience. Knowledge. It’s easier to learn from books or television than by getting eaten.”

She raised her eyebrows and drew her bow even further. “Television? You are a mage, then?”

Ted shook his head. Great job, idiot. “No, television is… it’s a kind of machine. A very advanced machine, but just a machine. There’s no magic in our world.”

“Yet you have 230 mana. At level 1, no less. You’re a scholar, then?”

“I guess, in a way, yeah.” A scholar of computers in a fantasy world. He allowed himself a chuckle. Typical.

The elf lowered her bow and placed the arrow back into her quiver, shaking her head. She ran her hand through her hair and muttered, “Entil ko‘enda-va po ri.”

“Was that Elvish?”

Her jaw set, and she scowled. “I’m a wood elf, you’re in wood elven land, and, yes, that was Wood Elvish.”

Ouch, but, hey, he’d take metaphorical daggers over actual arrows any day of the week. “You believe me then?”

Her scowl smoothed out, providing a glimmer of hope. She tilted her head to the side and shrugged. “I believe you’d choose a better story if you were lying.”

Not quite the same as believing him, but infinitely better than the alternative. Maybe he was getting somewhere.

Oratory skill increased 0 → 1!

… level 1 was somewhere. Every journey had to start with a single step, right?

A shiver ran down his back. Every journey had to end somewhere, too.

Not for a while yet, not if I have anything to say about it. “How about we start over? My name’s Ted. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The elf stared at his outstretched hand with narrowed eyes for an eternity before responding. “I’m Cara. Where’s the carcass?”

“Carcass?”

She stared with her mouth slightly open, in much the same way one might look upon a helpless child, and shook her head. “The wolf you killed.”

He shrunk under her gaze. The idea of eating it hadn’t even crossed his mind. If he was going to survive this place, he couldn’t keep making stupid mistakes like that.

Cara looked down at the ground and muttered something under her breath. “Alright, let’s take a look at that arm. We can hunt on our way back.”

“Back?” Ted asked, tentatively presenting his broken arm. Trusting the elf was a risk, but wandering blind through the forest by himself was suicide. Some choice.

“To my village. You’ll be safe—” She paused mid-sentence and winced. “Safer there than here, at any rate.”

Well, that didn’t sound ominous. Not that it was worth probing for more, not while she was glaring like that at his broken arm. She’d chosen not to kill him for now, best not to push his luck any further.

Besides, the next wolf might not have an arrow already in its side.

***

Cara studied the human’s—what was his name again?—injured arm and activated Triage. A simple Broken Arm, just as she’d suspected. Easy enough to fix.

Her brow scrunched up and her muscles coiled for action. It made no sense! The bite marks were clearly from a wolf, but the Broken Arm was from blunt force, not wolf fangs. “How did you say you broke your arm, again?”

“I… I didn’t.” His throat bobbed and his cheeks reddened. What was he hiding?

Or was he just embarrassed? Why would he be?

Oh, oh no.

Fluttering embarrassment filled Cara’s chest on his behalf. She glanced down at the blood-stained branch he’d been using as a club and winced at the thought. “Did you…?”

Instead of answering, the human closed his eyes, performing some kind of drawn-out breathing exercise. By the Forest, he had, hadn’t he?

She snatched the opportunity his closed eyes afforded to study him closer. His short hair, dark almost to the point of black, did little to hide his strange, rounded ears. Aside from that, his features were much the same as a wood elf, and he appeared only a few springs older than her.

Identify pinged his name as Edwin Williams. What an odd name. And pronounced Ted? Weird! Or was that a nickname? Did humans usually have nicknames?

Her breaths quickened. What if he really was from another world? The stories he could tell! So what if he was level 1? Foolish or not, he’d shown a dedication to doing what had to be done, no matter the price. She could teach him to hunt, and he could tell her all about his own world!

Maybe they’d even—slowly—get to know one another.

A hazy memory from one of Reltan’s lectures scrambled to the front of her mind, lurching her back to reality. Even if Ted looked a bit older, he’d only seen, what, twenty-four springs? If that?

The knowledge sat awkwardly in her chest. No matter the superficial similarities, he wasn’t a wood elf.

Not that he’d ever pass for one. His every movement gave him away, ungainly enough to be an orc masquerading as a human. Even the rising and falling of his chest was stiff as a thorn.

Cara smiled to herself. If he stuck around, she wouldn’t be the clumsy one anymore.

The village would take him in, wouldn’t they?

Her stomach twisted into knots. She could all too clearly imagine Jeremy’s disappointment lecturing her, reminding her just how dangerous the world was. What if the human was a dungeon spawn? Or an illusioned orc?

She jabbed her finger at his chest. Relief flooded back through her as her fingertip pressed his weirdly thin top directly against his not-at-all-leathery skin. Not an illusion. Or if it was, it was an incredibly good one.

His eyes shot open again and he scowled back at her in a silent rebuke.

“Sorry,” she said, forcing out a smile. “Just checking you weren’t an illusioned orc. You passed!”

He took another deep breath and gestured back down to his arm, thankfully changing the subject. “I broke it. Stupid wolf wouldn’t let go.

Cara nodded, wincing again at the thought of him breaking his own arm. “You did what had to be done.” She pulled a bandage out from her pack and gently held his arm. “Hold still, this will hurt. Whatever you do, don’t scream.”

She wound the bandage firmly around his arm, forcing herself to focus on her training and the guidance of the First Aid skill instead of the human from another world. Mid-treatment was not the right time to get distracted.

Ted ground his teeth and let out a couple of whimpers but no screams, thank the Forest. They had enough problems as it was without attracting any dungeon spawn.

“There.” Cara tied off the bandage and double-checked it. “Don’t move the arm too much, and the injury will be gone in a few minutes.”

He stared back at her with wide eyes, his jaw hanging open like that was anything special. “A few minutes?”

Cara basked in his amazement for a moment, even knowing full well it wasn’t deserved. “Yes. It’s a simple Broken Arm, not a Punctured Lung or anything like that.”

He cradled his arm carefully and a smile lit up his face for the first time. “Thank you, Cara.”

“It was nothing.” A guilty flutter bounced through her while a host of questions screamed to be asked, but there’d be time for that later. Mind on the job, Cara. “We need to get moving. Follow me, and stay quiet.”

Cara drew her bow, nocked an arrow, and set off for home with Ted in tow. Her bare feet tingled, longing to dance swiftly through her Forest. But no, she had to be responsible.

She glanced over her shoulder, more to remind him she was watching than to check on him. The thumping of his strange shoes was impossible to miss. Why did other races insist on covering their feet?

It still felt wrong, being on such high alert in this part of the Forest. It was meant to be safe here, of all places!

But it wasn’t, and that simmering background of fear in the tree-song wouldn’t let her forget it.

She scowled as she prowled toward home, scanning for any potential threat. If there were any dungeon spawn around, she was determined to get the drop on them.

The human would be a problem in that regard. Even the slightest of sounds might give them away, and he clearly had little in the way of Stealth levels. If what he was saying was true, he might not even have any.

“How big’s your village?” Ted asked, like she hadn’t told him to be quiet.

Cara sighed. Why did she have to get stuck with the newborn adult? She turned and signaled him to be silent with an X-shape across her chest.

The human cocked his head. “What’s that mean?”

She glowered at him. Didn’t he know anything? “It means shut up.”

His mouth formed a circle. Was he seriously going to keep talking? Cara’s hand slid off the bowstring and tightened into a fist.

Fortunately for them both, he silently nodded and gestured to the front. Maybe he wasn’t entirely stupid.

She shook her head and resumed leading the way. The Forest was more dangerous than ever. She had to stay focused and alert, not thinking constantly about the human.

Who was he? Why was he only level 1?

Her throat closed up. It had happened again. Now was not the time to get distracted! She could hear Jeremy drilling it into her again and again.

Mind on the job, Cara. You let yourself get distracted like that in the Forest, you’ll wind up dead before your time.

The worst part was that he was right. Not that it stopped the parade of questions sneaking in. Did other worlds really exist? Did his world truly have no levels? Why was he amazed that she could treat a simple Broken Arm? How did he get here? What was he like?

The last question was particularly perilous. Looks could be deceiving. Until it was certain he wasn’t dangerous, she had to tread carefully. Some creatures could fake their stats, and some status effects—like Disguised—were inherently hidden. For all she knew, he could be a dungeon spawn shapeshifter, or the vanguard of an invasion.

No matter how safe he seemed, the coincidental timing was too great to ignore. This was above her responsibility. Jeremy would know what to do with him.

That didn’t stop the giddy flutters in her chest. He was from outside the Great Forest, maybe even the world! And he wasn’t some gruff old ranger. Probably not full of insightful hunting tales, but his hobby set had to be wider than tracking and killing monsters. What stories could he tell? What were his craft skills?

How did he feel about adorable little furry creatures with no sense of personal space?

Wood cracked in the distance, so quiet she almost missed it. Almost.

Kalkarka! She wrestled her focus back onto the forest. Something was hiding out there.

She signaled the human to stop and stilled herself. Would he understand the signal, her hand out to the side with her palm outstretched? She wasn’t sure, but didn’t dare look back or say a word.

Thankfully, whether he understood or merely copied her, he stopped without a word this time.

Barely breathing, she crouched down and peered into the wilderness, through the dense foliage. The recent danger had robbed the Forest’s poor visibility of its charm. She nocked an arrow and pulled it back, as slowly and silently as she could.

Nothing. She cocked her head and pressed her lips together. If she were alone, she would have snuck through the forest, Identified whatever was out there, and then decided what to do about it.

But she wasn’t alone. She had a human in tow, one with the Stealth skills of a wild bracka in a pottery. Sneaking past wasn’t an option, so they’d have to go around.

A knife twisted in her gut. That would mean leaving whatever it was out there and making it someone else’s problem. If it was a wolf, no problem—anyone out in the Forest alone could handle a wolf easily—but what if it was something worse?

Dungeon spawn. A chill shot down her spine. For thousands of years, they’d stayed confined to their dungeons, a threat only to those brave or stupid enough to venture into those dark depths. And now, the same week that they ventured out, this newborn human appeared?

There had to be a connection, but what? Assuming he wasn’t a monster plotting to kill her, he might be the best, and only, clue yet on what had caused it and—more importantly—how to fix it.

That would have to wait until they’d passed whatever danger was prowling through her beloved Forest. Strolling through it without a care in the world was no longer a luxury she could afford.

Her heart skipped a beat. A shadow, far longer than any wolf, slithered in the distance. She honed her senses on it and activated Identify. Thank the Forest that she had put a perk point into Fast Identify.

Not so stupid now, huh, Jeremy?

Deep-Forest Snake

Level: 13

HP: 340/340

Stamina: 359/365

MP: 105/105

Status: Ravenous

The rush of being right didn’t last long. Her throat constricted, and a quiver ran through her. The snake was fast—too fast. By herself, she might be able to outrun it long enough for help to arrive. The same wouldn’t be true of the human.

Leaving him to die wasn’t an option. She activated Horn of the Rangers and blew one short, sharp burst. At least she couldn’t see the human’s expression—she had to look ridiculous blowing a silent horn.

Any rangers within reach would hear and come running. Even if they weren’t in time, they could finish the job and recover their bodies.

Her jawline stiffened, and she aimed her bow. Not today. “Human, take the dagger from my belt.”

“It’s not ‘human’, it’s—” Catching her eye, he shut up and moved closer. After a brief pause, he tentatively took the longer of her two blades.

Maybe there was hope for him yet, if he could survive the next minute.

The snake hurtled toward them, dodging and weaving through the cover of the forest with more dexterity than it had any right to. The closer it came, the more worrying its size became— it was longer than three tall wood elves, and at least a hand span and a half in diameter.

Her chest fluttered, doubt refusing to be silenced. I can do this. She wouldn’t let the village down. “Do you know how to use that thing?”

His pause wasn’t particularly encouraging. “Pointy end first?”

She swallowed and steadied herself with a deep breath. That would have to do. “I’ll stun it when it gets close. You’ll get one attack, maybe two. Make it count.”

A grunt was his only response. Untrained, inexperienced… He had to be terrified.

She couldn’t worry about that, not now. She had to focus, just like Jeremy had taught her. This wasn’t the practice range. If she panicked now…

The snake came into range and Cara activated Rapid Shot. She loosed arrow after arrow, which the beast evaded with jerky contortions. Even the few shots that landed glanced off its hide, doing minimal damage. She swore under her breath and kept firing.

The human needed to do his job right. Best to assume he knew nothing. “Aim for the head. Criticals will be easier while it’s stunned.”

Another grunt. “Makes sense.”

With every glancing blow, her chest tightened. The icy grip on her heart told her she couldn’t do it, that she’d mess it up, that she should flee while she had the chance.

The last of her rapid-fire shots glanced off the snake. She grabbed her most trusted arrow and nocked it. If anything she had could pierce its hide, a Sniper Shot with this beauty could.

She pulled on her mana as she drew her bow and hissed, “Ro’ronkatara-fa si.” The mana rushed into the myrellium-tipped arrow, drawn and bolstered by the metal.

What if it still wasn’t enough? She wasn’t a real caster, not like Jeremy or even Aidan. How much Physical Resistance did dungeon spawn have, anyway?

Her muscles strained under the pressure of her drawn bow as she lined up the Sniper Shot and waited for the perfect moment. There was no backing out now.

I can do this. “Three… two… one… now!”