What would an Adventurer do?
It was a question that every Adventurer was meant to ask themselves in times of unrest. That's what the Tutorialist had told him all those years back when he first woke up on The Thread, groggy and confused and struggling to remember anything personal of his life before.
Unfortunately, after 58 years of farming, Perris wasn't exactly sure how to answer the question. He wasn't sure he could remember the words of the Turorialist that well, but it was worth a try.
The Mantis ducked under the doorway and crawled into the bar, two others following close behind, their heads ticking this way and that. Perris read their auras:
Wellbeing: Dark Green | Soul: Hairline Blue | Emotional: Orange-Red
Dark Green, Perris thought, straining to remember his Shade Guide, the darker the shade, the lower the overall wellbeing. The thinner the Soul, the less they can channel.
And the orange-red, of course, meant he was angry.
The Hedgefolk all tried to cram their way out of the rear exit at once, inadvertently turning those in the back into targets for the Mantises. One of the Mantises took note and scurried towards the terrified citizens. The other two began picking apart the dead Hedgeman, dipping their claws in and out of the gaping wound in his back, peeling him open a little more each time to get to the juicy innards.
Perris had to act. He pushed all the nagging thoughts about his lack of experience and weapon training deep down inside and readied himself. If there was ever a time for a strong front, it was now.
Pulling the enchanted hoe Wendibell from her sheath, Perris ran at the lone, distracted Mantis, bringing the blade down into the thing's left shoulder. With a snap, the whole arm fell to the floor; the bug screamed at the ceiling, a sticky pink tongue vibrating from its mouth as its lost appendage twitched, bucked, then died on the hardwood.
Easy, he thought. Their limbs are like crackers.
Wellbeing: Yellow
With the swing of his hoe, the words of the Tutorialist came rushing back to Perris. When in doubt, remember your Soul.
The Mantis swung at him with its remaining arm. Perris jumped back, the blade just missing his throat by an inch. His heart rate skyrocketed. He saw the face of the thief he'd fought all those years ago in Heaven's Basket reflected in its buggy gaze.
Don't hesitate to channel Soul to your weapon for some extra juice. You might feel a little empty for a minute, kinda like your grandpa just died, but don't let it get you down. Your Soul will always renew over time.
Perris hated channeling his Soul. It made him feel so cold inside – like someone took a bite out of his very reason to exist. It was demoralizing at best, and debilitating at worst. At times, he'd channeled just a little of his Soul into Wendibell while tilling a field, but he quickly realized that when it came to growing good veg, the depression wasn't worth the little positive effect it had on the crops.
But as a weapon, and in a dire time? Perris didn't see any other choice.
The Mantis took another step towards Perris, panting, hurt, but determined to slice him in two. Perris gripped Wendibell as tight as he could, the blade of the tool towering just above him. The Adventurer focused, tethering his Soul to Wendibell's shaft, watching from the corner of his eyes as a blue sheen crawled from the aura around his fists, lurched up the handle, and connected to the tool's enchanted purple blade. His whole body tingled; the moment before the swing, this Soul merging with the enchantment, felt surreal – it felt good. It was after the swing that things would get dark.
The Mantis swung wide with its right arm. Perris ducked. The Mantis' blade caught the tip of his hat and struck a support beam in the middle of the bar, jamming it inside, leaving the big bug's right side open for attack. Perris brought Wendibell up and slammed it down into the creature's exposed back with all his Soul. The pathetic creature's spine – or whatever it was that Mantises had in there – snapped like a raw green bean and split the creature in two. It shrieked, its lower half kicking and convulsing on the floor; its upper half spilled out around it, still attached to the hat, attached to the support beam. Before long, the Mantis' aura read:
Wellbeing: Black | Soul: Black | Emotional: Unavailable
The creature was slain.
At some point in the battle, the other two Mantises had finished snacking on the poor Hedgeman and presumably run off to find another meal, probably thinking their now-dead brother could take care of a simple young adult in a poncho and a floppy hat. It was a relief, because after draining nearly his entire soul into Wendibell, Perris could hardly work a coherent thought out of his brain. All he could really focus on was how fast his heart was beating.
The more Soul you use, the longer it takes to recover, the Tutorialist said. As an Auran, you can see it restore in real time just by looking at your hand. Not that you won't feel it, too.
Sure enough, the blue of his Soul aura, wrapped around the green of his Wellbeing aura – still perfect green, mind you – had already begun to re-expand like a balloon. He stood perfectly still, collected his breath, tried to think clearly about what just happened.
Mantises attacked out of nowhere, he thought. Where did they come from?
In the relief of the moment, Perris nearly forgot that they were still attacking Greenhedge. Screams filled the streets and poured into the bar; droves of Mantises stampeded down the road outside like wild cattle escaped from a slaughterhouse. Perris had to get out there and help; he had to—
"Is it safe to come out yet?"
Perris turned and saw a set of antlers peering up from behind the bar, shivering, a few copper rings still hung around them. The terrified face of Ainsley Moose rose to look at his friend, snot drooling from his big nose, genuine fear dancing in his eyes.
"Safe for the moment, but the town is overrun," Perris said. "Come on, Ainsley, we have to help."
"Help?" Ainsley exclaimed through chattering teeth. "Perris, what exactly are we going to do here? All you've got is a hoe, and I hardly even know how to use my Enchanted Gloves. I say we cut our losses and head for The Thread!"
"No," Perris said immediately. "These people helped me for so long – they helped you too, Ainsley! We can't just abandon them like that, and the longer we stand here yapping about it the more of them will get killed."
"O-o-o-oh," Ainsley groaned, scratching his antler.
"There's no time for groaning, Ainsley!" Perris marched around the bar, faced Ainsley Moose, and held his hand out in front of his body as if seeking a handshake. "Join my Party, Ainsley. If we make it official, our bonded Souls will let us channel much more power much more efficiently. What do you say?"
"Wow, Perris. I'm surprised you remembered how to do that."
"The Tutorialist has been on my mind lately. I wonder why, right?" A blood-curdling scream shot into the room from outside. They were taking too long. "Come on, Ainsley, take my hand!"
Without so much as another breath, Ainsley grabbed Perris' hand, squeezed, and gave it three solid pumps. Perris watched as the Blues of their Souls met with a spark, their auras expanding just a few inches, becoming nearly as thick as their Wellbeings. The boys' moods lifted; they felt a rush of confidence and camaraderie as they looked into each other's eyes, hands still locked.
"Off we go?" Perris asked.
"Off we go," Ainsley stated.
But not before Perris could grab his hat.