The midday sun pierced the dense canopy of the Eternal Wilderness, casting dappled patterns of pale green and gold across the Treehouse Sanctuary's clearing. The air hummed with life, carrying the lingering scent of roasted boar meat from their recent meal, now blending with the earthy musk of moss and the sweet tang of blooming vines.
Karl sat cross-legged near the Sanctuary's base, his allies gathered around him—Mira, her hands still dusted with herb residue; Grok, his bark-skin armor creaking softly; and Thorn, the Vine Wolf, lounging in the shade.
Ember, the hatchling, chirped softly from its nest nearby, vibrant feathers catching the light, eyes bright with curiosity as it watched the group. The Sanctuary's warm glow pulsed faintly, a heartbeat of safety in the wild.
Karl stood, gently cradling Ember in his calloused palms, its tiny warmth grounding him.
"Come with me," he said, his voice steady but warm, turning to Mira and Grok.
"I'll show you our territory and thorn, you should rest for now."
Thorn's green eyes flicked up, assessing, before the Vine Wolf curled into the vine-and-moss shelter Mira and Grok had woven earlier, its thorn-laced fur blending with the underbrush as it settled into a light doze.
With Ember tucked against his chest, Karl led Mira and Grok through the hundred-meter domain, the Sanctuary's shimmering barrier a constant reminder of their fragile safety. The forest buzzed softly, alive with distant bird calls and the rustle of leaves.
They reached the Spirit Leaf patch first. Its luminescent leaves glowed faintly, veined with healing energy. Mira knelt beside them, her hand hovering uncertainly.
"So much… vitality," she whispered, awe flickering across her features before the bond nudged her words into formality.
"My Lord, even a single leaf could do more than a day's brew in my old world." Her tone wavered, as though she were still adjusting to calling him Lord.
Karl nodded, watching her fingers tremble before steadying on the leaves. "We'll need your skill more than ever here."
They moved on. The bone-filled crater gaped like a wound in the forest floor, the skeletal remains of an ancient beast half-buried in moss.
Mira shivered, pulling closer to Karl. "This land holds death…?" she asked softly.
Karl touched one of the jagged ribs. "Death leaves strength behind, sometimes it can be weapons, armor or strong bones. If we don't use it, then who will and in our current circumstance we have to use this to survive."
At the Sunfire Fruit grove, Mira's eyes softened. She plucked one cautiously, its amber glow casting golden light on her face. "Mixed with Spirit Leaf, this could mend torn flesh in half the time."
A small, almost wistful smile crossed her lips. "If only I had these back home…" The bond softened her voice into reverence. "Forgive me, my Lord. I'll make use of them here."
Grok simply tore a fruit free, crunching it in his wooden jaws. "Sweet," he grunted. "Strong. Good for warriors."
After showing them around they returned to the Sanctuary, moss muffling their steps as the midday heat waned. Karl's mind churned, replaying the wolf pack's earlier strike—the scarred leader with singed fur and burning amber eyes, directing its pack with uncanny cunning. They were adapting. Avoiding traps. Striking at his weakest moments.
He turned to Mira, who was sorting Spirit Leaf into neat piles. "Can you make anything to weaken those wolfs? Poison, maybe, from what we've seen?"
Mira's hands paused, trembling faintly, but her eyes lifted to meet his. "Yes, my Lord. Near the Spirit Leaf I sensed a cluster of black, glossy berries. They thrum with a dark vitality.
I can grind them into paste, mix it with Sunfire pulp. It won't be enough to kill them, but it will weigh them down, slow their bodies and dull their reflexes."
"Do it," Karl said firmly. Then he softened, watching her focus steady under the bond's pull.
She hesitated, then dipped her head. "Thank you, my Lord. I'll… do my best."
With the immediate threat at bay, Karl reached into his pouch, fingers brushing the five remaining Essence Crystals, their faint green glow warm against his skin. Hoarding them was tempting, but hesitation could cost them.
Summoning more allies risked straining their scarce food supply—Mira and Grok's stories hinted that new summons might arrive with emotional burdens, needing time to adjust.
Strengthening his current team was the smarter play. He knelt before Thorn, dropping three crystals. The Vine Wolf snapped them up, its vitality surging as its thorns lengthened, eyes glowing brighter, muscles coiling with newfound power.
Grok received two, absorbing one slowly, his barkskin thickening, muscles bulging beneath the wooden armor. Karl stood, satisfied but cautious. The Sanctuary's glow felt warmer now, a beacon of hope, but the forest beyond whispered of danger.
He needed to test his team's strength and gather more resources. "Thorn, Grok," he called, gripping his bone-tipped spear.
"We're going to hunt. There's a boar herd near the stream, just beyond the barrier. Get ready and let's go."
The trio ventured past the barrier, the air growing heavier with the scent of damp earth and distant water. Thorn scouted ahead, its thorn-laced fur blending seamlessly with the underbrush, while Grok flanked Karl, his club raised, eyes scanning the trees.
Karl's Breath of Spring guided them to the herd—armored boars rooting through the underbrush, their vitalities steady and non-aggressive. Perfect for meat and crystals.
Karl signaled, and they struck with precision. Thorn's jaws snapped a boar's leg, crippling it; Grok's club crushed its skull with a wet crunch, blood spraying across the moss. Karl's spear pierced the second boar's flank, and Thorn finished it with a swift bite to the throat.
The coppery scent of blood hung heavy as Karl carved out two Level 1 Essence Crystals, bringing his total to 2, their warmth pulsing in his pouch.
As they dragged the carcasses back toward the Sanctuary, the forest shifted—too quiet, too heavy. A heartbeat later, the silence shattered. From the mist burst a wolf pack, shadows flashing between the trees. Two Bronze II wolves, larger and leaner, fanned wide, while two Bronze I wolves lunged forward with bloodlust, all led by the scarred alpha whose amber eyes glowed like burning coals.
Thorn bristled, vines lashing instinctively, a guttural snarl ripping from its throat. But the pack struck fast. One Bronze I wolf darted low, jaws clamping onto Thorn's flank, fangs tearing through vine and bark-flesh. The wolf's weight yanked it down, vines snapping as blood and sap spilled. Thorn howled, struggling against the crushing bite.
Karl surged forward, spear flashing. He thrust hard, the point piercing the shoulder of another Bronze I wolf. It yelped and staggered back, but not far enough. Grok bellowed, his massive frame swinging a crude club with bone-rattling force. The blow cracked ribs and sent the beast tumbling into the undergrowth.
But the wolves regrouped almost instantly, circling tighter, their snarls weaving into a suffocating chorus. Each attack tested for weakness, a coordinated hunt closing in on prey. The scarred leader barked, and the two Bronze I wolves sprang again.
Karl's chest heaved. Their burden slowed them. The boar meat was dead weight. With a curse, he flung the carcass aside, muscles straining as he pulled Thorn upright.
"Move!" he roared. Grok fell in step, swinging wide arcs to keep the wolves at bay as they stumbled toward the faint shimmer of the Sanctuary's barrier.
The wolves lunged as one, claws tearing at their heels. Karl dove through the protective veil with Thorn and Grok in tow, the barrier flaring as if rejecting the feral intruders. The pack slammed against it a heartbeat later, their claws raking sparks across its surface. The sound was a shriek of fury—metal on glass, rage denied prey. They prowled the edge, amber eyes blazing through the mist, their growls low and relentless.
Inside the barrier, Karl collapsed to his knees. Thorn's body sagged beside him, blood pooling fast, vines slack and trembling. Fear gripped his chest like ice, but he forced it aside. Pressing both palms to the torn flesh, he summoned Breath of Spring.
A soft green light flared beneath his hands, weaving into the wounds. Flesh knit, vines rethreaded, and bleeding slowed.
Thorn's shuddering breaths steadied, the glow cradling it like a second heartbeat. But Karl could feel it—this was no cure. He had only pulled Thorn back from death's edge, nothing more. Full recovery would take days, maybe longer.
Exhaustion tugged at him, but Karl gritted his teeth, jaw tight. Losing Thorn was not an option.
"Grok's wound needed little attention —it was a shallow scratch on his arm and Karl healed it swiftly, but all the effort drained him heavily leaving him dizzy, until he used Vital Touch to spark a flicker of vitality back into his limbs.
[ Status Panel ]
Name: Karl Varn
Lord Level: Bronze II (0/10)
Strength: 10 (3 → 6)
Agility: 11 (4 → 7)
Vitality: 14 (3 → 7)
Intelligence: 9 (8 → 3)
Abilities: Breath of Spring
Skills: Herbal Resonance, Vital Touch