Eight 2: The Way of the Hunter, A LitRPG Adventure
Eight 2: Chapter 7

The bounty for the chliapp lion was five eltaak, and we also earned another five for the meat, hide, bones, and razors, for a total of ten eltaak. The money was split into shares, though, and then divided up based on each team members’ contribution to the hunt.

Everyone, including the apprentices, got at least one share, but Mumu and Haol each got two extra—Mumu for leading the party and Haol for dealing the killing blow. Tegen received an additional share for teaching the apprentices. That left an eltaak each for Teila and me. Except, Mumu and Haol each voluntarily gave up half a share to me, since I’d been the one to replace signs of the cat’s passage when the party had lost its trail.

That meant I received two eltaak—twenty days’ worth of peasant labor—for the morning’s work. Not a bad haul at all. As for the cat’s silverlight, it was split into six equal portions, with every member of the party receiving a portion. The sixth was set aside for taxes.

While Mumu reported to the lodge master, Tegen skinned and butchered the carcass. He explained each step of the process, especially when he came across the tricky bits where the tentacles joined the shoulders. A wrong cut there could easily spoil the hide. I watched and waited patiently, biding my time.

When the two of them were finally, finally done, I cornered Inneioleia at his desk. “I am now a member of the Hunter’s Lodge. When do I learn magic?”

Seeing the hunters in action had been amazing, and I was anxious to learn what my options were. I might’ve come across a little intense, because Inneioleia backed up to open space between us.

He cleared his throat. “Yes, you are qualified to choose one qi or mana spell. Wait here.”

Inneioleia unlocked the trap door and went downstairs to retrieve two books. One looked like it was covered in a tawny animal’s hide, while the other was beaten silver.

He gestured for me to sit. “If you cannot read, the books have pictures to show each spell’s effect. If you have questions, ask me.”

I carefully opened both books on my lap. The pages inside each were beautifully illuminated, decorated with images in gold, red, and blue inks. Supplementing the pictures was text written in a clear, clean hand.

The hide-covered book contained ten qi spells. The silver one contained five mana spells. There were no actual runes or instructions in either book, though, just descriptions. No doubt it was a security measure against people with good memories making off with more than they were allowed.

The qi spells and their effects were:

• Bear’s Strength increased a person’s Strength
• Collaut’s Hide thickened and toughened the skin
• Dog’s Agility sped up reflexes
• Hawk’s Eye improved visual acuity and long-distance vision
• Iron Heart improved the body’s resistance to damage
• Cat’s Claw enhanced the cutting power of slashing weapons
• Ram’s Head added power to blunt weapon attacks
• Spiral Pierce improved the attack power of piercing weapons, including arrows
• Camouflage changed the color of a person’s skin, and at higher skill levels, their belongings
• Nature’s Spring rapidly accelerated the body’s innate healing powers

The mana spells were more of a mishmash:

• Air Shield created a round shield of dense, turbulent wind in front of the caster
• Hollow Night made one disappear to all senses, but the person casting also lost all sense of the world
• Night Eyes allowed one to see in the dark
• Scentless Hunter muted odors, and at higher skill levels also affected qi and mana emanations
• Spark shot a bolt of electricity at a target; it wasn’t as intense as lightning, but the spark was still enough to temporarily lock up muscles and interfere with attacks

I grilled Inneioleia about effect sizes, durations, and possible improvements through practice. He humored me at first—about what you’d expect from someone talking to a precocious child—but as my questions continued, his expression became more and more solemn. I was likely taking the process much more seriously than he’d expected.

It turned out that spell runes were shortcuts—a way to quickly stamp mana into a pre-ordered and usable form. Real magic was an act of weight and ritual; it took time, resources, and intent to build. Inneioleia pointed to the initiation ceremony last night as a good example.

There were people whose whole lives were dedicated to observing the flow of mana during rituals in order to distill them into runes. Inneioleia explained how the magic underlying Hollow Night was actually quite advanced—used by an order of magician clerics to understand the nature of silverlight—but that a simpler version had been created and gifted to a Hunter’s Lodge for a service performed. The rune was then passed from lodge to lodge, and included with the first selection of spells because it was so helpful in emergencies.

“So there are other spells available?” I asked.

“Yes, of course, but the ones in these two books are wise choices for apprentices.”

“And the lodge gathers more when it can?”

“Again, yes. How else are we to strengthen ourselves? To feed our families and defend them from the wild things outside our villages?”

“So…” I let the word draw out, thinking. “If someone brought a new spell to the lodge, that would count as a contribution, right? You’d said earlier that contributions would be rewarded—with access to additional spells—which means I could trade spells for spells. Am I getting that right?”

“Yes.” Inneioleia’s eyes narrowed. “What do you have?”

I knew three spells, except I wasn’t sure I was allowed to share Healing Water. Nothing Ikfael had said indicated the spell was a secret, but my preference was to stay in her good graces and ask her permission first. Besides, it was the polite thing to do. The other spells I’d found on my own, so they were fair game.

“I found two from the animals in the forest,” I said.

“You can tell me, but the forest’s easy secrets are mostly known. It is rare to replace truly new spells.” He leaned back with a sigh. “I have seen the one that makes the air freeze. We have it downstairs in the journeyman book.”

All right, strike one. Wait, no—that was a bad analogy, since I only had two shots at this. Hopefully, giant parasitic worms were more rare than unideer. “The second spell I call Anesthetic. It makes the target feel no pain.”

“I have heard of such a spell, but it belongs to the Healer’s Lodge.” Inneioleia frowned in thought. “If you share it with us, then yes, that would count as a contribution, but we would need to negotiate with the healers first. They are protective of their secrets and not a good group to anger.”

“How do we do that?” I asked.

Inneioleia went back downstairs to retrieve a silver orb the size of a walnut covered in intricate designs. “Hold this and bring the rune to mind. Give mana to the orb, but do not cast the spell.”

The orb was warm in my hands, and when I followed Inneioleia’s instructions, it became even warmer. Once he saw I was done, he took it back and must’ve inserted his own mana, because the rune’s three-dimensional image appeared in the air above the orb.

Inneioleia nodded when he saw everything was in order. “I will send the orb to our lodge’s grandmaster in Albei. The degree of contribution will depend on her negotiations with the Healer’s Lodge, so we must wait until then. In the meantime, you can still choose one spell.”

I licked my lips. How can I choose just one? All of them look helpful, which is probably the point, but still… this is painful. “Can I think about it?”

“I encourage you to. Talk to the other hunters. Not all are blessed with the use of qi, but about half are. Learn from them.”

“What about mana? Can any of them cast those spells?”

“On your team, Mulallamu has Night Eyes, and Haoleise has Scentless Hunter. There is a hunter named Benseisu who knows Spark.”

“What about you?”

A wry smile spread across Inneioleia’s face. “My memory isn’t strong enough for the runes, so my blessings lie elsewhere. And it’s my fortune that a lodge master’s magics are all rituals—as they should be. Not every candidate for master will be blessed with the ability to use mana quick magic.”

I spent the rest of the afternoon tracking down my lodge brothers and sisters to get their advice. After I spoke to the first couple, word must’ve gotten out, because the others started hiding from me. If they were in the village and not doing anything pressing, they tucked themselves away in the village’s nooks and crannies. If they had skill in Stealth or hiding magics, they used them. My search for answers turned into a village-wide game of hide and seek.

At first, I thought I was being hazed, but then it hit me that this was a ‘learn by doing’ approach in action. Once I understood that the hunters were actually being helpful, the experience transformed from a pain in the ass into a game.

One hunter dropped down behind me from a longhouse’s rafters. It was a good reminder to look up. Another popped out of a hole covered with drying hay. Why was there a hole? Apparently, there were creatures that ambushed their prey from underground, and the hole was to simulate that happening. The lodge members took their games seriously. I could respect that.

Once I had a better sense of the ground rules, I worked my way methodically through the village and found all the rest, except for two who eluded me: Haol and Mumu.

Haol used both Camouflage and Scentless Hunter, and the combination was just too much for my Uncanny Tracker to overcome. When I’d passed by him for the second time, he dismissed the spells and appeared out of nowhere so he could answer my questions.

As expected, the two spells combined were incredibly powerful, especially when sitting still. Camouflage was slow to adapt to color changes, so any movement had to be slow and careful. Running the spells concurrently was a drain on both qi and mana, but that also meant the strain was spread over two stats instead of just one.

Mumu, on the other hand, had used her special ability to stalk me. She’d found me early on and followed behind as I’d searched the village, always staying out of sight. It had taken more work on her part to avoid my replaceing her, but by doing so, she’d been in full control of the ‘hunt.’

I’d come back to the pyramid to regroup and restart my search for her—and she’d chosen that moment to tap me on the shoulder and ruffle my hair.

“I’m sorry, Soteiqu, but my family needs me and I must stop our game. Quickly ask your questions, then I must go.”

“Soteiqu? What’s that mean?”

Mumu laughed. “It is two words combined. Together they mean Little Pot Full of Questions.”

I grimaced. “Don’t tell me—”

Her grin spread. “Oh, yes. We all agreed. It is a fine nickname.”

I sighed and rubbed my eyes. Well, it could’ve been worse. Nicknames were a thing in many cultures, and some of them could be quite rude, even if they were affectionately given. I’d just have to save her life one day and have her call me zasha instead. I grinned at the idea and couldn’t help but look forward to the day. That is, until I asked her about how she’d avoided me replaceing her.

That was when I found out that she had me in her sights for over an hour. Chills ran down my back. Let’s remember to stay on her good side, I thought.

“Good evening, Little Pot. Did you replace what you needed?” Inneioleia didn’t laugh like Mumu, but he couldn’t keep the twinkle from his eyes when he used my new nickname.

“Mostly, thank you, but I would still like to sleep on the decision.”

Inneioleia quirked his head. “Sleep on the decision?”

“To think about it overnight and decide tomorrow.”

“Ah, I understand,” Inneioleia said. “The ancestors can guide us through our dreams. To sleep on it—yes, that is a good expression. It is unexpectedly wise for one so young.” He smiled and gave me a pat on the head. “Then I will see you tomorrow morning, after you have slept on it.”

“Actually, I do have another question: are the spells in the books here at the lodge? Will I have access to my choice right away?”

“Some are kept here, but for the rarer ones we must send a request to the lodge in Albei. The message would travel with those going to market and come back with them. On the tenth day of the week.”

Only a few days then. That wasn’t terrible.

Inneioleia cleared his throat. “If there’s nothing else, I will wish you a good evening—”

“If you don’t mind, there’s one last thing I was wondering about: there’s a grandmaster of the Hunter’s Lodge in Albei, right? Does that mean our lodge is part of the one there?”

“That’s correct,” Inneioleia said. “All the lodges within Albei’s territory are children to the parent lodge there.”

“And what about other cities? Are we connected to their lodges?”

“We belong to the Way of the Hunter,” Inneioleia said, explaining. “We are all of a family. Another city’s lodge is our respected uncle or aunt. The lodges in their villages are our cousins.”

“I see, thank you. That’s helpful.”

“I’m glad. Then good evening.” Inneioleia turned to his desk to go back to work.

I was halfway out the door when I pulled a Columbo and decided to call out another question. I didn’t have the TV detective’s rumpled trench coat, but I did my best impression. After all, if they were going to call me a little pot full of questions, I might as well live up to the name, right?

“Sorry, I have one more—something that’s been on my mind. That’s okay, right? We have qi and mana spells, but what about body power? Why don’t we train in it, since it’s so useful during the Long Dark?”

Inneioleia frowned. “The foundations of body power are simple—they are a person’s Strength and Constitution. Develop them, and body power grows alongside. To do more than that, though, a person needs to change their body. The rituals, medicines, and methods to do so are all kept as close secrets by those who practice them. And those who practice them come very close to being lost.”

“Lost?”

“It’s what we call those who absorb darklight—they and their children. They’ve strayed from the Path to Perfection and become lost.”

I rummaged in my memory for what my Status camera said about the bandits I’d killed. If I remembered correctly they were described as human but also, “dolbec and nisaak.”

Inneioleia’s brows rose. “You know of the dolbec and nisaak?”

“I rescued my family from bandits who were described that way.”

“Those who you met were descendants of the original Dolbec and the original Nisaak. Those two warriors grew strong on darklight and passed their talents on to their children and their children’s children. Now they are a people, a lost people.”

“Is it really so bad to be lost?” I asked.

“Everyone who chooses to pursue power must face countless decisions about the paths they will take. Also what skills to train and how true they will be to the gods’ intent. Do you know of the gods’ intent?”

I shook my head.

I was still standing halfway out the door, so Inneioleia gestured for me to come and sit. He looked like a grandpa about to tell a family story, but not one of the pleasant ones.

Here’s how the story went:

In the beginning was the Imperfect God, first of all things. Alone in the void, they anguished over their great imperfection and set themselves to grapple with it—to subdue and hew, to tear and beat down—but it was to no avail. Their imperfection marred every action. It lay like a bad seed at the heart of all the Imperfect God’s actions.

The Imperfect God thought long upon their dilemma, and they decided that if they could not achieve perfection alone, then they together with another’s eye could. They needed another eye to see the imperfection at work. Another eye to guide imperfection to perfection.

And so the first of the Imperfect God’s children was born, Aethas the Watcher.

Now, the Imperfect God knew that anything they created would also be imperfect, so they watched Aethas, just as Aethas watched them. Together, they would work to root out each other’s imperfections.

It was, however, not to be. The imperfections were insidious. Not even the Watcher could identify all the roots and shoots that bored their way through thought and action. Seeing the wisdom of the original plan, however, Aethas convinced the Imperfect God to create nine more children.

Altogether, the children were: Aethas, Tenna, Heidilei, Suta, Trintilei, Barakas, Agraza, Diriktot, Cothus, and Meliune.

And yet even the first gods were not enough. The bad seed spread among them and turned each away from the others as they pursued their own intents. The power of creation was in their hands, and so the world was born: the air and waters that nourish it, the plants and animals that move through it, and the spirits that oversee it. All were made by the gods as they searched for their own Paths to Perfection.

All was chaos, and hope fled from the Imperfect God. What was once a bad seed now took root in all things. It was a time of strife and suffering. Darkness flowed like sap within every creature.

The gods reflected and regretted their choices. They gathered to watch, think, and decide how to make right their mistakes. Long did they watch, and long did they discuss. Fear had taken hold within them of their own imperfections. They could not decide, for fear of making things worse.

Cothus grew frustrated with the other gods’ hesitation. And so in secret, even from his twin brother Diriktot, he developed a plan to separate imperfection from perfection. He went against the counsel of the other gods and unleashed his plan upon creation.

Thus were silverlight and darklight made manifest in the world. And Cothus fell, rejected by the other gods for acting without their approval and stamping creation with his will alone.

Creation grew even more chaotic. Life and death intertwined, as plants and beasts hungered for silverlight and darklight. The first peoples were ill-equipped to defend themselves from these powerful creatures. They pleaded with the gods to save them from the suffering.

The gods once again feared to take action. Diriktot saw his brother’s imperfect intent and knew he could create order from the chaos, to give it shape and purpose. One day, while the other gods continued their talk, he built a great machine and set it into motion. Like his brother, he stamped his will upon creation. Like his brother, he fell. Thus was the World Spirit born.

Order slowly came to the world. The plants and beasts grew, but so did the people. Seeing that good was possible, even though it was imperfect, the other gods gave their blessings, curses, and gifts to the world to help bring it into even more balance.

This is the state of creation: silverlight is the good seed—those who gather it seek perfection. Darklight is the bad seed—those who gather it immerse themselves in imperfection. They are both powerful, but one follows the gods’ intent and the other does not. That is why those who stray are considered lost.

I sat there thinking about the creation story and wondered about its accuracy. Given that I’d actually met a god, the odds were pretty good that it wasn’t just a fable. Inneioleia likely told the story filtered through his beliefs about the world, but the bones of it were probably real.

I’d still take it with a grain of salt for now. Anytime you classified whole peoples as lost—well, that was a red flag for me. A big one, stamped with the word prejudice. But this was another world. Maybe there really were ‘naturally’ evil creatures. I didn’t think so, but I’d be careful, just in case.

“Will there be anything else, Little Pot?”

I shook my head. There was already enough to think about for now.

“Are you sure?” Inneioleia asked. “You don’t have any more with which to bother your lodge master?”

“Yes. I mean no. Yes, I’m sure. No, I don’t have any more questions.”

“Good,” Inneioleia said with a wry smile. “If you had, maybe we’d call you Inteiqu instead.”

“Inteiqu? What’s that?”

“Mischievous little devil. Now get out of here. I will see you tomorrow. Remember that you must be here early to guide Dwilla to the corpses you found.”

I gave him a quick smile and bow before fleeing. The last thing I needed was another nickname.