369. Ghol, the Forbidden One (II)

"He's an Undying Curse Giant. Escaped from the depths of the Superdungeon—a peak Minor God. Chained, pale fellow, skin glowing with Curse marks engraved on his skin. Quite high physical strength, enough to rival a Rhino. His curses give him power."

She deposited a scrap of bloodied flesh in Zane's hand.

"He was last seen hunting in the Dragon's Teeth Peaks, just north of here. So-called because they look like a row of rising teeth—legend has it they were formed from the corpse of an ancient Time Dragon."

Zane closed his fist. "Got it."

"As for the others…"

She brought out a bee charred to a crisp—a very fat one, swollen and roasted with a stinger half a foot long, a spearhead of a thing, an obsidian shard.

"A bee of the Scourge Hive," said Guri, wrinkling her nose. "It's a peak Minor God—a hive mind of big bees. Quite prone to dive-bombing, those are—I'd watch out for that, dear. It's also finicky hitting the queen, I'm told. They were last terrorizing the Question Mark Woods."

Zane nodded.

"And last…"

She pulled a chunk of rock the size of a shield out of her bag; it expanded as it came out. He thought it was a shield at first, with how it was carved—perfect octagon. That, and its texture, which reminded him of corroded stone.

"This is a scale of the Dead Sea King," said Guri. "The strongest of the bunch, at half-step True God. It's a lot like a Black Tortoise, only mutated… its defenses are nothing to sneeze at. It likes spewing sewer waste. It was last seen making a mess of Lake Eternal."

"Thanks for all the help," said Zane. He pocketed it.

"Of course, dear. Good hunting!" said Guri. "And do let me know if you'd like another leaf."

She gave him a bump, and shambled off.

***

He figured just after lunch was a good time to head out.

He'd hardly gotten out of camp, though, when he felt an aura lock onto him.

A subtle thing, hardly noticeable—if he didn't have Great Sage Mind, he wouldn't have felt it. But it instantly had him frowning.

It was the sensation of deep cloaking.

Something was being sneaky.

And it was coming closer, steadier. There was no doubt its target was him.

He could feel it as he focused in—a patch of shimmering air a few dozen feet behind, closing in on his blind spot.

He remembered the Sage telling him offhand one night, back in a campfire in the Outskirts, that he ought to be careful. He'd been tipped off there was something tailing them.

"I've got it under control," said the Sage breezily. "But in case you see something suspicious, give it a good ol' whack!"

Zane lowered into a crouch. Started slowing a little, still locked onto the aura behind him.

The moment he was sure it was in range, he whirled around, roared, and stomped into a slide-tackle.

He heard a shriek of pure terror—much higher than he had been expecting.

Then—BOOM!

The fellow's back hit the trunk of a Baobab.

Zane's shoulder nailed him there. Dust plumed from the impact.

Now the cloak was off. But when Zane reached out, he was surprised to find no malice. It was an elf-man. A slender slip of a fellow with delicate features, bearing a feather cap, a leather satchel, and armor engraved with the sigil of the World Tree.

Armor that was now slightly cracked down the front.

"Please," gasped the fellow. "Don't kill me!"

"I won't," Zane informed him and stepped back. "What's up?"

At this point, he realized he was the only thing keeping the elf-man standing.

The fellow keeled over and took a few moments to puke and hack in a few breaths

"…Sorry," said Zane, a bit sheepish. He let the guy recover.

"The Mistress—she sent me," said the elf. There was a little color in his face now. Dinner-plate eyes. Zane wasn't sure if he was nervous, or if it was just his face.

"My name is Arien—Messenger Arien of Her Majesty's Mail. It's a p-pleasure to m-meet you, Consort Zane, sir!"

He bowed down to the waist, came back up, and swallowed. He seemed a twitchy fellow.

"You alright?"

"Yes—just fine!"

"Is your back fine?" He did still feel rather bad about that.

"Yes! Well, not all the way—but, I'll be just alright, sir." Arien looked around. His eyes were bloodshot. "It's only…"

He swallowed. "May I be direct, sir?"

"Go on."

"I've gone hundreds of miles through these—Outskirts, I gather they're called—then a few dozen miles through this… this…" he nodded wordlessly around, all pale. "I'm—I'm used to roads, you see, sir," he managed at last. "A tribe of snake-peoples just tried to eat me!"

There was a distant roar, and he squeaked.

He did seem a rather frail fellow. Zane could understand. It was easier making it here—making it through life, really—with some more heft to you, he felt. But he sensed now wasn't the time to dispense this advice.

This Arien's cloaking was plenty good, though. It got him here just fine. Zane imagined he'd get back just fine.

"You said Reina sent you."

Arien nodded quickly. "Y-yes, sir! One moment…"

He shuffled through his satchel and produced a few letters. "These are for you, sir!"

It was a pleasant surprise—he hadn't thought he'd hear from his friends for weeks.

Zane took them and started to read.

The first came from Evan.

Evan had broken through to Tier 5 Law—the Law of Shooting Stars.

He couldn't wait to explore all the Concepts. The Law seemed like it had a lot to do with Fate and believing in himself—then he'd make his dreams come true.

The thought of Evan running around like a comet, doing his very best, did make Zane smile.

"Do you have a pen?" he said.

"Eh?" Arien seemed to be scouting the perimeter for threats—it took him a moment. "Ah--yes!"

He fumbled out a quill. Zane took a moment to think, then started writing.

Soon he was satisfied and moving on to the next letter. This one came from Avery. It was all messy script—barely readable. But Zane managed to piece together that she'd been working on getting herself up to Level 500 and breaking through to Minor God. She had all her Concepts and Laws—she'd been working on them all this time. Only her Levels had fallen behind some.

She just needed to get that up to cross the finish line. Last Zane remembered she'd locked herself in a room with a treasure hoard of sweets—she declared this was 'closed door cultivation'—and promptly started chowing.

This was taking much longer than she'd thought. And it was much harder, too; she spent most of the day flopping around groaning, trying to digest faster. She regretted her decisions, she informed him. But she was determined not to give up—partly because no-one would buy two giant bags of half-eaten sweets from her.

The last letter came from Reina, written in neat cursive.

She'd done some research on the Desolate Wilderness, which naturally brought up a few worries about him—but it was also the sort of place she knew Zane'd thrive, so it wasn't any more than usual. Though she still would rather it weren't such a long trip. She was already missing him.

It was rather sweet, he thought. Then he blinked and remembered the mood she was in the last time he was gone for a long stretch.

He figured—best not to drag his feet.

As for updates, she had a very important ceremony coming up—a once-in-a-millennium chance, she said. Their scryers got word that the spirit of the World Tree was awakening. If Reina could commune with it and gain its approval, it'd grant her a share of its powers—the Blessing of the World Tree.

That'd get her well on her way toward Level 500, and give her Life Laws a strong boost too. The most prized effect, though, was that she'd get a special Skill—Blessed Pure Body. It'd not only make her immune to Corruption, it'd help her cleanse even True God level Corruption.

The rest of her enterprises—the war machine, her potion-making institutes—were all chugging along, and expanding fast too.

She was probably in a gilded conference right now, making sure all of it was running just right.

Meanwhile, he looked around where he was. Just in time to see a lion with a mane like a sun's corona tear out the throat of a giant one-eyed vulture.

It tickled him putting the two scenes side-by-side.

He wrote back to her too—he was pleased to hear from her, mostly. There was one more thing—he'd been chewing over how to tackle the Scourge Princes as he chewed milk curds for lunch. The bees seemed most troublesome.

He had some ideas, but he figured he was better in-the-moment. He was curious what she thought.

That done, he handed his reply off to the elf fellow. "Good on you, making it all the way out here," said Zane.

"Of course!" said Arien. He'd gotten some pluckiness back; he beamed."Just happy to serve the Mistress, sir—and you, sir. You have a splendid day."

Then turned to go back, looked at the looming wall of ice, and Zane watched the realization slowly hit him.

The fellow looked about to cry.

***

"Guri!" said the Sage. "Can you do me a favor?"

The Shaman was tending to the fire with a giant branch. She looked over a shoulder. "'Course, dear. Just ask."

"Here."

He handed her a chunk of fabric. Low transcendent-grade material—but even still, it was nearly burned all the way through.

Stained with the black blood of a very high-tier Monster indeed.

Guri sniffed. "That's some vile blood, Jogo."

"It is, isn't it? The thing it came from's a real nasty piece of work. This thing good enough to trace it with?"

"Mm."

"If you feel it come anywhere near the Wilderness—"

The Sage corrected himself. "Anywhere within a hundred miles of Zane, you let me know right away, alright?"

Guri nodded.

***

The letters were sent. All were taken care of.

Zane was finally off on the hunt.