Eight 2: The Way of the Hunter, A LitRPG Adventure
Eight 2: Chapter 13

The fields outside of Voorhei’s gate were full of people, villagers practicing their Militia Arts. To the right, they took turns shooting arrows at a string of archery targets. To the left, they practiced their formations while wielding long spears. I noted how every second spear had lugs below the spearhead to keep an injured opponent from working its way down the shaft to attack the wielder.

People called out to Mumu as we walked past. A few waved to me, the faces familiar from my initiation into the Hunter’s Lodge. I was… not quite in the mood to deal with people, though, and the noise and activity grated. All I wanted was to run back into the woods to be alone. Except, I wouldn’t be alone, would I? Wherever I went, the uekisheile would also be.

At least I was able to walk on my own again—as long as I wasn’t at one with the land, that is.

Mumu tapped me on the shoulder to get my attention. She’d spotted Inneioleia coordinating the militia training along with the village’s leadership—Koda, Dwilla, and Sheedi.

“I’ll make the arrangements to meet with the world speaker,” she said. “Will you be all right here until I get back?”

I spotted Billisha and Aluali working with some toddlers. I pointed and said, “I’ll be over there. Come get me when she’s ready.”

Mumu nodded and jogged toward the clustered leaders, while I made my way to the younger children. The little ones were reciting together in singsong: “I am a true human child, not a false one. I can speak, and my blood is red.”

Each toddler had a small knife. They were instructed to make sure it was clean, then were shown the way to draw a thin line of blood across the front of the forearm. Some of the little ones cried, while others retreated into Meliune’s Blessing.

My kids coaxed them out of the blessing and stressed that it was very, very important that they be able to talk when facing a worried adult. In a gentle voice, Billisha said, “You don’t want to be mistaken for a false one, do you?”

The sight of the small children scarring themselves gave me chills. Yet, this was the reality within which I now lived. Every adult I’d met had these scars. Every single one had had to prove themselves human at some point.

That didn’t stop them—the adults—from joking as they practiced. Militia training was one of the few times the whole village came together, so it was an opportunity to socialize. Underneath the amiability and chatter, though, was a serious purpose. These practices were the foundation for how they would defend the village during an attack. It was how they defended their humanity.

The experience at Fort Sugar Shack had shaken me—because of what happened with both the Deer God and the uekisheile. There was a chance I was a ticking time bomb—that I was wrong about believing my situation wasn’t this world’s equivalent of Invasion of the Body Snatchers—or maybe our difficulties were just growing pains, and I’d been right about choosing peace with the uekisheile. I hoped that was the case. I very much did.

But if I was somehow turning into a monster, then what was I thinking by raising two kids out in the wilderness? Had I gone mad in the month I was on my own? The idea worried me enough that I checked my Status, but no mental illnesses showed. Only:

The kids spotted me and waved. I smiled, waved back, and gestured for them to keep working. Pretending felt awful, but I didn’t want them to worry about me.

It turned out that Mumu had spilled the beans about my new talent to the whole village leadership team. They all traipsed over to congratulate me on achieving my fifth talent, their eyes shining like dogs eyeing a tasty steak.

Only Inneioleia seemed apprehensive. No doubt he worried about my ego ballooning. I could see the gears turning in his head—the intense training he was already planning, all in an effort to keep me humble and grounded. I saw an endless future of sore muscles ahead.

The village’s leadership had to stay behind to continue coordinating the training, all except for Sheedi. She hummed an unfamiliar tune as she led Mumu and me toward the village gate. Her steps were light and breezy.

We walked through the empty village. I thought it’d be quiet and still, but the livestock peeked out from their enclosures and lowed or brayed as we moved past. It was like walking through a fairytale village inhabited by animals instead of people.

If only I had a fairy godmother, yet the closest I’d come was a magical otter, who—as I thought about it—might have some ideas for how to deal with the uekisheile, as well as my new spirit-seeing talent.

I really wasn’t thinking straight. Focus, Ollie. Take things a step at a time. Deal with the obligations here, and then get to the Glen as fast as possible. Minimize the variables and get help from a trusted source. And… and… maybe leave the kids behind. Just for now. Just in case.

I really didn’t like that idea, and my heart rebelled, but I steeled myself to make the right decision.

The kids wouldn’t like it either, but I’d just have to convince them—maybe give them a task in the village they could do while I… while I… worked on moving the bodies of Woldec and his crew out of the cave. That excuse sounded reasonable.

Before I knew it, we were climbing the pyramid steps. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the Doggo Destruction Team—Jeseidatchei and Musastacha the Dog Rider—patrolling the area. Sheedi waved to them and led us inside.

We walked down the spiral staircase, past the village’s life stone, and into the room with the spirt examination platform. For the second time in the span of a few days, I had my Status read.

Looking at a new map of my spirit, Sheedi pointed to a notch in the area around my heart. “Here is the Way of the Hunter.” A line extended from it up through my neck and into my head. “See how it connects to this area above the brow? That is the new talent. Its shape is unfamiliar—like lightning branching upward—but the color is of the Spirit. You said it allows you to see ghosts?”

“Yes, when I become one with the land.”

“Do it now,” she said. “I would like to observe it in action.”

The world tilted as I joined with the land. My handle on Dog’s Agility wasn’t very good, not without the uekisheile, so I staggered when the initial blast of sensations hit me. Thankfully, Mumu caught my elbow before I fell.

“How is it?” Sheedi asked. “What do you see?”

There were three ghosts in the room with us: a child of about five, a foggy blob that was mostly human shaped, and a giant dog. The dog looked a lot like Jeseidatchei, but had darker fur and a narrower muzzle.

The ghosts watched us, and I felt their interest pressing against the insides of my eyes. The child was lonely, and the dog curious. They kept their distance. The blob was hungry, though, and tendrils extended from its body to reach for me. Something about me seeing the ghost let the ghost see me better in return.

The tendrils were repelled, though. They streamed around an invisible shield, searching for an entry, but the shield covered the whole of me. Was it a function of Tenna’s Gift? One of my blessings? Or something older, something gained from mi abuela? Whatever its source, the shield kept the tendrils from touching me.

Mumu and Sheedi stepped back when I drew my hunting knife. I’d been able to push Bindeise’s ghost away; with the proper applications of will and intent, I felt I should be able to affect this one as well.

“Little Pot?” Mumu asked.

“There’s a ghost.” I sliced, and the dismembered tendrils dissipated like vapor. Good, it worked.

I must’ve looked ridiculous waving my knife in the air, but I wasn’t about to put up with a hungry ghost trying to leech my life from me. The ghost sucked its… his tendrils back into his body, and he tried to flee the room.

“In the name of the Deer God, I command you to stop.”

The words were in English, which confused Mumu and Sheedi, but I couldn’t help it. It was easier to convey my intent and will through English than Diaksh.

The hungry ghost froze. His form shuddered as he struggled to escape, but I refused to let him go. My will held strong. I knew my grandmother would have scolded me for letting a hungry ghost escape.

“Lay down your spite and your anger,” I said. “They will not serve you. Lay down your spite and your hunger. They will only weigh you down. A third time I say unto you, lay down your spite and your despair. Let them go and replace your way to peace instead.”

“Little Pot, are you all right?” Mumu asked.

I didn’t respond; I was too focused on remembering old lessons from a lifetime ago. I focused on gathering the will in my belly and connecting it to my words—pushing it out into the world. I didn’t have any of the spiritual tools and medicines of mi abuela, but for a weak-ass ghost like this, my will was enough.

Doors open in two directions, though. The shield around me faded as I spoke, eventually leaving only a thin layer, like the film of a bubble.

The ghost fought against my will. His tendrils lashed out, and I stumbled avoiding them, falling to the ground. Somehow, in that moment, I felt Helen and mi abuelos gazing at me. I felt their love and support, and re-focused my will, not bothering to stand.

The ghost screamed—then his body pulled upward, like taffy being drawn. I couldn’t hear him, though. His scream was a painful scraping across my eyes, and it didn’t stop until the ghost was completely gone—banished to his rest.

I fell back, spent, and my breath came in short gasps as if I’d been sprinting. Mumu knelt beside me, her brow furrowed.

“Little Pot, you are very much concerning me.”

“I’m concerned about myself,” I said—then I remembered to speak in Diaksh. “I’m all right. There was a ghost that attacked me, but I put it to rest—”

Before I could continue, the child’s ghost stepped closer. His hands were open, but instead of hunger, there was longing in his eyes. He gestured to the place where the hungry ghost had been banished, and then pointed to himself.

“You want to rest too?” I asked. “To rejoin the circle of life?”

The ghost didn’t understand my words, even when I spoke them in Diaksh. The boundary between life and death, Tenna’s Gift, wasn’t something I could cross completely. So, I pointed to the ghost and then to the sky. The meaning of my gesture was simple enough that it got through. The ghost nodded.

“Eight, you need to tell us what is going on,” Mumu said, her voice intruding into my disoriented world.

I struggled to organize my thoughts, and it took a moment just to figure out what language to use. “There’s another ghost. A boy. He’s asking me to help him rest.”

Sheedi became anxious—the feeling was like a taut drum behind my eyes. “You can hear him?”

I shook my head. “No, he used simple gestures. That’s all.”

“And the attacking ghost?” Mumu asked.

I finally noticed that her knife was out of its sheath. When had she drawn it? I hadn’t been able to tell among the colors, sounds, smells, and tastes swirling around me.

“That ghost is gone,” I said. “I exorcized him. Ah, how to explain that word. I… forced him to go where he belonged.”

“And now this child will also be exorcized?” Sheedi asked, stumbling over the unfamiliar English word.

“I won’t need to force him, I don’t think. He’s just gotten lost and needs to be shown the way.”

Sheedi gestured for me to stop. “Wait. Before you do so, what does he look like?”

I shared that the boy was about my age, with short dark hair and hopeful eyes. A small birthmark under his left eye accentuated his delicate features.

“His description does not match anyone I know.” Sheedi looked to Mumu.

“Not me either. He’s not from my generation,” Mumu replied. “What happens next?”

I looked over at the dog’s ghost, but they—no, she was content to sit on her haunches. She didn’t seem to be in a hurry to go anywhere or do anything. Instead, she felt responsible for this place and watched over it. As long as I didn’t try to harm the life stone, I’d be safe from her.

“It’s just the boy who needs help.” I picked myself up off the floor and moved to kneel beside him.

The boy anxiously held his hands together. He started to talk, yet I couldn’t hear him. When he realized his words weren’t reaching me, he bowed his head in disappointment. The feeling of longing was back, but this time for someone. For his family.

“I don’t know your family,” I said, “but I’ll try to replace them and let them know you miss them. It’s all right to let go of the longing. To let go and rest easy. To move on and replace the peace you deserve. To move on and, when the time is right, rejoin the circle of life.”

All it took was a touch of my will to point the boy in the right direction, and he faded away. His sad, grateful, and weary smile lingered, but even that eventually disappeared.

I waited to see if anything else happened. The dog’s ghost lay down on her side to rest, and the shield that had thinned earlier started to recover. Thankfully, it didn’t appear that I’d damaged Tenna’s Gift as a consequence of dealing with the hungry ghost.

I assumed the god’s gift was the source of the first shield, but there’d also been a second, hidden one that I’d almost missed in the rush of events. That second shield was family-related. I was certain of it—I could taste the stone knife, the spear, and the arrows I’d once laid down to bar the doorway to my soul, back when Ikfael had taken me on a spirit journey to give me access to my mana.

I took a deep breath and let the land go. Mumu and Sheedi, their faces full of concern, snapped into view beside me.

“You’re back,” Mumu said. “Your… your eyes are clear again.”

“The ghosts are gone?” Sheedi asked.

“Yes, I’m here. And yes, the ghosts are gone. Well, there’s one left—a dog—but she’s guarding this place.”

Sheedi’s eyebrows rose, and she looked around the room. “Should I be concerned?”

“I don’t think so. She didn’t seem to be interested in anything other than protecting the life stone.”

“Oh. That’s good, then.” The edges of Sheedi’s mouth turned up in pleasure. “I will have to tell the others we have a spirit protecting our village core.”

“Is a ghost the same thing as a spirit?” Mumu asked.

“Three is the direction of five,” Sheedi said. “One is a weaker form of the other. Perhaps this ghost will become a spirit in time. Such things have been known to happen.”

Mumu looked doubtful, but didn’t protest. If anything, there was worry in her voice. “And our Eight’s talent? What did you learn?”

Sheedi shook her head. “None of the paths, skills, and talents I know let one talk to ghosts in this way.”

“Well, I’m not exactly talking to them,” I said. “The words are just a focus for my will, a way to give it shape and direction.”

“So that was a magical language you spoke?” Sheedi asked. “A magical art?”

“Yes and no. That path was my grandmother’s, and she trained me in it. Not a lot, but enough for me to get the basics—so that I wouldn’t accidentally hurt myself or others. The language is hard to explain. Let’s just say that it’s one my family spoke.”

“Then you must have a skill for it,” Sheedi said, “for both the language and art, but I didn’t see either on your spirit map.”

“I don’t know how to respond to that—”

The English skill had always been there, just hidden from view. The Spirit Arts skill, though, was new. Its appearance felt like a wall tumbling down—of being in the dark and suddenly breaking through to the light outside. My breath caught as the feeling spread through me.

The others must’ve recognized the look on my face, because Mumu shook her head in disbelief.

“A breakthrough. Our Eight really is a genius for certain.”

“I’m almost tempted to map his spirit again,” Sheedi said.

Mumu protested: “No, that’s enough. He needs to rest.”

She helped me stand and led me to the dining room, whereupon she poured hot tea down my throat and stuffed me full of porridge.

Sheedi let her, and even helped pour the tea. “Our Eight, let me remind you. We will soon visit Ikfael to offer gifts in gratitude for the clean water she provides. Put in a good word for us, will you? We will make sure to make it worth your while.”