Path of Dragons

Thor yanked his spear from the Voxxian monster’s body, sending a spray of black blood to splatter on his pants. He frowned, then spat on the creature. Then, he looked around at the other corpses. There were five of them, a full three of which were capable of healing. The other two had been durable, with thick scales and a dearth of Dexterity. The result was that it had taken Thor many frustrating hours to finish them off.

But he had won.

As was right and proper.

And he’d already gained the reward he’d sought ever since he’d left those hellish canyons behind. He looked at his status with no small degree of pride:

As always, the bulk of his attributes had been automatically assigned to Strength, Dexterity, and Constitution. From what he’d seen, the sheer number he was awarded for each level was uncommon, with two being allocated into Strength and Dexterity, while one went into Constitution. In addition, he received four free points each level. Though he wanted to believe that his talent was responsible for his rapid rise – and he would tell anyone who’d listen that that was the case – Thor was well aware that his rare class was the largest contributor to his power. Without it, he wouldn’t have had such a wide range of useful skills or the weight of his attributes on his side.

It was why he was always so frustrated with towers and rifts. They scaled to his level, which sometimes made him feel like he’d actually lost ground with every step forward on his path. However, when he encountered other people or wild beasts, he was reassured of his own power. He was one of the strongest people in the world, and he didn’t like to be made to feel inferior, even if he knew it was a contrived scenario meant to push him to his limits.

A silver box appeared before him, and when he opened it, he saw a shimmering vial full of yellow liquid. The notification that came with it told him what it was:

“Where was this when I was going through that damnable swamp?” he demanded, grabbing hold of the potion. It was a powerful concoction that had three functions. The first was that it immediately cured the imbiber of most ongoing ailments. That alone was extremely useful, but the second feature, which was to apply a low-level heal over time, really separated it from any Alchemist-created potion. But the third function made it an invaluable part of any toolkit. Once he drank it, the potion would remain in his system for the next half hour, pulsing every thirty seconds to cleanse him of any afflictions.

He'd received such a potion once before, and he’d been forced to use it in his very first tower. Otherwise, he would have ended up like his companions – a withered husk, defenseless against the spider monsters who inhabited that tower. As it happened, he was the only survivor, which meant that he’d received quite a lot of experience for clearing the nest of monstrous arachnids.

So, he knew the value of what he held, and he suddenly felt much better about the Rift.

But more importantly, Thor was interested in his newest ability:

“Interesting,” he said, though he was a little irritated at the restrictions. Not only did it have a low duration, but the potential clone was only going to be level fifty-eight. Presumably, that would affect its attributes as well. However, the real irritant was that it had such a long cooldown. More than a week meant that it was only usable in emergencies. That also meant that he couldn’t afford to test it out, because as he stepped out of the Rift, he knew he was getting close to his prey.

The surrounding desert was much the same as it had been when he’d found the Rift, though night had fallen. He didn’t care about that. He could push forward without rest easily enough, and as he’d found throughout his time in the canyons – as well as the desert beyond – finding somewhere safe was almost impossible. More than once, he’d gone to sleep in a cave only to awake to find some venomous monster clamping down on one of his limbs.

In a lot of ways, it was just as bad as the swamp that had driven him to his absolute limits. Though at least he didn’t have to worry about those damnable leeches.

Regardless, Thor wouldn’t dare to rest for more than an hour or two every couple of days, and it would remain that way until he reached civilization.

So, after sitting down and eating a meal of dried meat that had come from some sort of enormous lizard that had made the mistake of trying to attack him on his first day in the desert, he rested for about an hour. Then, he pushed himself to his feet and set off in the direction that had been revealed the last time he had used Ancestral Hunt.

Since leaving the last town, he’d found a strange pond that was surrounded by immense concrete statues. Like the other circle he’d found outside of Argos, it was completely impervious to his every attack. So, he’d moved on, following Ancestral Hunt until he found an area marred by hundreds of deep canyons. He’d spent weeks wandering through them, even having to battle some primitive, dog-headed humanoids.

They had not been powerful, but there were quite a lot of them. As a result, he’d spent a long time fighting the creatures, and for very little in the way of reward. So, he was grateful when they finally gave up and fled his presence. After that, though, Thor had been incredibly aware that eyes were upon him. He couldn’t see any of the watchers, but he knew they were there. As a result, his trip through the canyons was one characterized by unease.

So, when he finally found his way through, Thor was very grateful. Nearly a week later, he had found the Rift, which he’d challenged eagerly, if only for an opportunity to see something other than the bleak desert landscape.

Through the night, he progressed through the waterless wastes until he saw something on the horizon. At first, he thought it was an oasis, but when he finally reached it, he found no water. Instead, it was just a circle of oddly twisted trees.

But that wasn’t what concerned him. Instead, an irrational anger suffused his mind. He wanted nothing more than to rip those trees out of the ground, but he mastered his fury long enough to examine the origin of the emotion. And what he found was as troubling as it was surprising.

A blanket of nature hung over the area, thick and seemingly impenetrable. However, as Thor stood there, he felt something else far beneath it. Thor’s first impression was as if someone had painted over a masterpiece, covering it with a child’s fingerpainting. Beneath that cloyingly profane blanket of nature was a roiling pit of conflict and rage that, at first, he couldn’t identify.

Then, he remembered the line on his status:

For the longest time, he’d ignored it. As far as he could tell, it was useless. Or merely informative, like his name. Yet, with what he felt beneath that thin veneer of nature, he suddenly understood that it was far more important than he’d ever realized. Instinctively, he mentally reached out for whatever he felt, but he found himself coming up short. No matter how he tried, it was impossible to grasp.

And that made him angry.

He lashed out with his spear, cutting through the first tree. It splintered pleasingly, which only spurred his anger. So, Thor continued his tirade, ripping the trees apart with every swing. And each attack pushed him further until his mind went white with fury. When he finally came back to himself some indeterminate time later, he was surrounded by a series of low stumps and splintered tree trunks.

That felt good, even if it didn’t solve the problem. That aura of conflict remained out of reach. But at least he’d tipped the balance a little. Perhaps one day, conflict would overcome the disgustingly wholesome aura of nature.

Soon after, Thor moved on, crossing the desert with renewed purpose. Destroying the trees had been therapeutic, after a fashion. However, it was a poor salve. He needed to vent his anger on something that could feel it. He needed to find his prey.

So, it was with conflict roiling in his heart that, four days later, Thor finally came into sight of a city. From the maps he possessed, he expected it to be the formerly American city of Seattle. Surely, given the transient nature of humanity after the world’s transformation, there were plenty of other nationalities that now called it home, though. It still bore the stink of the former superpower.

Never was that more apparent than when he saw a mechanical drone cutting through the sky in his direction. For some reason, that angered him even further, and when it came close, he reared back and threw his spear at the thing. The weapon flew through the air with deadly precision, and when it hit the drone, a brief blue light flashed before the thing exploded into a hundred pieces.

Thor used the weapon’s ability, which allowed him to return it to his hand, so long as it was within a few hundred feet. Then, re-armed, he proceeded toward the city’s gates.

The guards didn’t dare impede his entry, and as he strode into the city, he was appalled by the decrepit state of the once-mighty metropolis. Crumbling buildings abounded, the place smelled like a sewer, and worst of all, the people were all low-leveled trash.

“Animals,” he muttered, feeling an urge to simply enslave the lot of them. They would at least serve a purpose, then. However, that thought only lasted for a moment before he realized that it would be more trouble than it was worth. Let lesser men corral the unwashed masses. He had better things to do.

With that, he found a secluded alley – where he was forced to ignore the smells emanating from the trash heaped on the other end – and used Ancestral Hunt. Predictably, the spirit that responded to his call made a snide remark about the filth, but when it became clear that Thor had no intention of rising to the insulting tone, the thing sent its tendrils of ethera in every direction.

A few moments later, all but one had dissipated, and judging by the solidity of it, his prey was close. So, it was with no small degree of anticipation that Thor set off through the city. Fortunately, the path led him to another gate, and back into the desert. As much as he hated the arid terrain, he was grateful to be away from such a filthy place.

He set off, following the trail for another hour until he saw a speck on the horizon. He didn’t even need to use Hunter’s Eye. He knew he’d finally found his prey. The man was still more than a mile distant, and he clearly hadn’t noticed Thor. So, he took a circuitous route, which sent him around a great hulk of a container ship and to a rock formation in the distance.

The Druid was taking his time, looking around like a tourist, so it wasn’t difficult for Thor to get ahead of him. As he waited, poised to attack, he couldn’t help but mutter, “Got you.”

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