[ Mnemonic Gene Spores: ]
[ Trace: Lvl 0 Fungal Acuity +5%] (Exp: 1535/50)
Scott's eyes locked onto the experience pool.
The original Scott had accumulated a massive amount of experience in observation, but because he lacked the promotion potions, he had never been able to utilize it.
Now, it was all fuel for Scott's rage.
"Upgrade," Scott thought, his mental command screaming with urgency. "Pour it all in. Max it out."
[ Upgrading Trace Gene: Fungal Acuity from Lvl 0 to Lvl 1… ]
[ 50 Experience Points deducted. Remaining Exp: 1485. ]
A sharp, cool sensation washed over his eyes and nasal cavity, like inhaling peppermint in freezing air. The world sharpened slightly.
"Not enough. Again!"
[ Upgrading Trace Gene: Fungal Acuity from Lvl 1 to Lvl 2… ]
[ 100 Experience Points deducted. ]
[ Upgrading… Lvl 2 to Lvl 3… ]
[ 150 Experience Points deducted. ]
The sensation intensified, turning into a burning pressure behind his eyes.
The smells of the camp, the burning torches, the sweat of the guards, the metallic tang of blood, exploded into his brain, distinct and categorized.
[ Upgrading… Lvl 3 to Lvl 4… ]
[ 200 Experience Points deducted. ]
[ Upgrading… Lvl 4 to Lvl 5… ]
[ 250 Experience Points deducted. Remaining Exp: 885. ]
[ Unlocked at Lvl 5: Sensory Visualization]
[ Sensory Visualization: Allows the user to visually perceive olfactory and thermal trails as distinct color spectrums. ]
[ Upgrading… Lvl 5 to Lvl 6… ]
[ 500 Experience Points deducted. Remaining Exp: 385. ]
Scott gasped, his eyes and ears flying open.
The way he perceived the world seemed to have changed slightly.
The night was alive with glowing rivers of light. He saw the red heat haze rising from the guards' bodies.
He saw the golden particles of pollen drifting from the Heartwood Tree.
And there, cutting through the chaotic mess of colors like a jagged scar, was a trail of sickly, neon-purple dust.
The Siren Mushroom.
It started at the window of his home, spiraled down the trunk, and vanished into the deep root system below the main platform.
"I see them," Scott growled, his voice vibrating with a terrifying new intensity.
He turned to Jorunn, his eyes glowing with an eerie, predatory light. "Aunt Jorunn, I can find their trail, don't follow me, I'll bring her myself."
"Scott, wait! It's dark down there, the roots are…"
Scott didn't listen. He turned towards the railing of the wooden platform.
With a burst of power that cracked the wooden planks beneath his boots, Scott launched himself forward.
"Lord Scott!" Leo shouted, reaching out too late.
Scott vaulted over the railing, diving straight into the abyss below the canopy. It was a forty-foot drop into the twisted, mossy architecture of the tree's base.
As he plummeted, the wind rushed past his ears. Yet, he focused on the purple trail glowing in the dark.
[ Ability Triggered: Impact Bracing… Bull's Frame Exp +3 ]
THUD.
He landed on a massive, protruding root in a crouch.
His muscles tensed, absorbing the kinetic force instantly.
There was no pain, only the solid sensation of power. His Level 5 Bull's Frame handled the drop as if it were a small bump.
He stood up slowly, the damp air of the under canopy filling his nose.
Here, away from the torches, the purple trail was blindingly clear.
It was mixed with a muddy, brown trail, the heat signature and scent of a man. Sweat. Stale tobacco.
The trail led deeper, into a cluster of hollowed-out roots that formed natural caves against the mountainside.
Scott gripped his spear, the wood creaking under his fingers.
"Someone dared to touch her," Scott whispered to the darkness, his voice low and jagged. "You made a mistake."
He began to run.
He moved silently, his Camouflage Spores (even at Level 0) helping him blend into the shadows, but his speed was anything but subtle.
He was a missile locked onto a target.
As he neared the entrance of a secluded cave, his enhanced hearing picked up a sound that made his blood boil.
Snap.
"Beg louder," a rough voice growled from within.
Scott stopped. The purple trail ended right there, inside that cave.
The rage inside him, which had been a hot fire, suddenly turned into absolute zero. A cold, calculating clarity took over.
He stepped into the entrance of the cave, his shadow stretching long and menacing in the dim light of the glow-stone, his chest heaving from the sheer effort of holding back a scream of primal fury.
Varg was standing with his back to the entrance, facing Elara. With his pants open, his focus entirely on the weeping, broken woman hanging in front of him.
Through the heightened, spectrum-colored vision of his Level 6 Fungal Acuity, the scene before him was like a nightmare painted in neon and shadow.
He saw the heat radiating from Elara's body… A feverish, unnatural red caused by the drug.
With purple dust of the Siren Mushroom coating her sweating skin.
But what shattered his composure were the angry, dark crimson lines crisscrossing her pale thighs and stomach.
She was hanging by her wrists, her head lolling back, her eyes dazed and half-shut.
She was whimpering, her body twitching with that confused mix of agony and chemically induced arousal.
And there was Varg.
The source of the muddy, brown stench.
He stood between her legs, his rough hand gripping her hip, his pants unbuttoned, preparing to defile what belonged to him.
A strange sensation washed over Scott.
He had only been in this world, in this body, for a short time. He shouldn't care this much.
But as he looked at Elara, the memories of the original Scott merged violently with his own conscience.
She is my wife.
The thought wasn't a logical deduction. It was a roar in his blood.
"Get," Scott said, his voice sounding like grinding stones, "away from her."
Varg froze. The intrusion was so unexpected that his lust-addled brain took a second to process it.
He turned his head slowly, annoying arrogance on his face.
"Who interrupts me when I'm…" Varg's eyes landed on the figure in the entrance. He squinted. "Scott?"
He laughed, a harsh, barking sound. "The cripple? Did you crawl all the way down here to watch? I didn't know you had it in y…"
BOOM.
Scott didn't let him finish; he rushed forward.
The mossy ground beneath his feet tore apart as his Level 5 Bull's Frame propelled him forward.
To Varg, Scott was a blur, a sudden shift in air pressure.
Scott didn't use the spear tip. He used the shaft.
He swung the heavy wooden weapon like a baseball bat. It connected with Varg's ribs with a sickening crunch that echoed louder than the whip cracks had.
"GAH!"
Varg was lifted off his feet.
He flew sideways, crashing into the rough stone wall of the cave before sliding down into a heap of damp moss.
Elara jerked at the noise, her eyes fluttering open.
She looked at the blur of motion, her drugged mind unable to comprehend.
"Scott?" she whispered, her voice thick and slurring. "Ghost?"
Scott didn't look at her yet. He couldn't. If he looked at her naked, broken body now, he would lose control completely.
His eyes were fixed on Varg.
Varg coughed, spitting blood onto the floor. He scrambled to his knees; his face twisted in shock and pain.
He grasped the hilt of the hunting knife at his belt.
"You… you're supposed to be dying!" Varg roared, adrenaline overriding his pain. "How do you have such strength?!"
Varg lunged, the knife flashing in the dim light. He was a seasoned hunter, fast and brutal.
But to Scott, watching through his eyes, Varg was like moving in slow motion.
Too slow.
Scott stepped inside the guard. He dropped his spear and caught Varg's wrist in mid-air.
"My turn," Scott hissed.
He squeezed. Scott's grip was like an iron vice.
SNAP.
The sound of Varg's wrist shattering was crisp and dry.
"AAAAHHH!" Varg screamed, the knife clattering to the floor.