Chapter 5: The Tower
The path west narrowed quickly after the fields ended. Golden grain swayed one last time before giving way to scrub brush and wildflowers. Then the forest closed in. Trees here were ancient, trunks thick as cottages, bark furrowed deep. Branches interlocked overhead, turning the trail into a tunnel of green and gold. Light filtered through in shifting patches, dancing across the dirt path like coins tossed on water.
My bare feet found purchase on soft earth, pine needles, and fallen leaves. The sack on my shoulder bounced rhythmically, tools clinking with each step. Rope coil. Hammer. Nails. Tarp. Waterskin sloshing half-full. The weight felt good. Purposeful.
I kept a steady pace. Not hurried. The perpetual golden light still rode high, promising several hours before it dimmed toward twilight. Birds called overhead in sharp, inquisitive bursts. Small creatures rustled in the underbrush and fell silent as I passed. The air carried resin, damp soil, and something faintly metallic underneath, like distant lightning.
I walked alone, but not lonely. Thoughts circled. The Null Path. Deed-based growth. No shortcuts. No glowing stats. Every gain earned through action, risk, consequence. It terrified me. It thrilled me.
Back on Earth, I had followed every prescribed route. School. Dead-end jobs. Polite scripts for angry customers. Grinding side gigs to afford one more upgrade for the rig. Always chasing the next level someone else defined. Here, there was no guide. No wiki. No build order. Just me and whatever I chose to do next.
The path dipped into a shallow ravine. A stream crossed it, clear water tumbling over smooth stones. I knelt at the bank. Filled the waterskin. Drank deep. The water was cold, clean, with a faint sweetness. I splashed my face and neck. Droplets ran down my chest, cooling sweat I had not noticed building.
I checked the knife at my belt. Torv's loaner. Short iron blade, nicked but sharp. Plain hilt wrapped in worn leather. It rested against my hip like it belonged there. No text appeared. No skill unlocked for drinking or walking. Good. The System only spoke when I did something that mattered. I stood and continued west.
The forest changed gradually. Pines mixed with broadleaf oaks and something taller with silver bark I had no name for. Ferns carpeted the ground in lush green waves. Moss hung from branches like old curtains. Near what felt like mid-afternoon, the trees thinned without warning. The tower rose ahead.
Stone thrust from the earth like a broken finger. Four stories tall, perfectly round, built of dark granite blocks fitted so tightly no mortar showed. Vines climbed the walls in thick green ropes, some as thick as my wrist. The top floor had collapsed inward centuries ago, leaving a jagged crown open to the sky. A heavy wooden door hung crooked on rusted hinges at the base, half-covered in ivy.
I stopped at the clearing's edge and circled slowly. No fresh tracks larger than deer. No deep claw furrows. No blood scent on the breeze. The ground around the tower was overgrown but undisturbed. Safe enough. I approached the door. Pushed. Wood groaned. Hinges screamed. It opened inward, revealing darkness and the smell of damp earth, rot, and old smoke.
Inside, the ground floor was one large circular room. Thirty feet across, maybe. A stone hearth dominated the far wall, cold and blackened. Broken crates and barrels littered the space, half-buried in decades of leaves blown through gaps. Rusted tools lay scattered: a pick head without handle, bent nails, a cracked bucket. A spiral staircase hugged the inner wall, steps carved from the same granite, many cracked or missing chunks.
I set the sack down near the hearth and started work. First, clearing. I found a broken plank among the debris and used it as a broom, sweeping leaves and dirt into piles. Dust rose in clouds. I coughed, eyes watering, but kept going. Stacked usable wood scraps near the hearth. Dry enough for fire. Prodded the stairs carefully with the plank. Several steps flexed under pressure. One near the top of the first flight had a hairline crack running clean through. I marked it mentally. Climbed slowly to the second floor.
Worse condition. Half the wooden floorboards rotted away, leaving dangerous gaps. Below, the ground floor yawned thirty feet down. I moved on hands and knees near the edges, testing each board before trusting weight. Narrow slit windows ringed the wall here, offering views in all directions. West showed endless treetops rolling like an ocean. No movement yet. Third floor: almost open to the sky. Roof beams had snapped like dry bones. Shingles scattered across the stone. Rain and wind had rotted everything soft. Vines had pushed through cracks, rooting in dust.
I spent the remaining daylight hauling debris. Down and up the stairs a dozen times. Arms burning. Back aching. Sweat soaking the torn tunic. I carried fallen beams, broken boards, loose stones. Piled it all on the ground floor for later use or burning.
When the golden light shifted toward amber, I stopped. Built a small fire in the hearth using the driest scraps and flint from the village stores. Sparks caught tinder. Flames grew. Warmth pushed back the chill creeping through stone. I sat on an overturned crate and ate. Chunk of dark bread. Strip of dried meat. Washed it down with stream water. Simple. Filling.
The glow outside dimmed to perpetual twilight. Stars appeared through the broken roof, bright and unfamiliar. No moon yet.
I climbed to the third floor again. Sat with my back to the wall, legs stretched, looking west. The forest breathed below. Leaves rustled in a wind I could not feel inside the tower. An owl called far off. Another answered. Hours passed in silence. My eyes adjusted. Shapes sharpened in the low light. Then I saw it.
Far off, deeper than I expected, a patch of trees swayed against the breeze. Something large moved beneath the canopy. Not wind. Too deliberate. Too controlled. I watched without moving. Breath slow.
It paused testing the air. It Shifted direction slightly. Smart. Minutes dragged. It moved again. Closer by a hundred yards. Then stopped. No sound reached the tower. Faint text flickered:
Deed recorded: Vigil kept from ruined heights without aid or prompt.
Skill unlocked: Basic Observation (Passive).
Affinity progressed: Wild (Minor to Moderate).
Note: Continued observation of natural threats may yield further growth.
The words faded. My vision sharpened further. Distant leaves resolved into individual edges. The moving patch became clearer: tall silhouette, broad at the shoulders, moving low on four legs that bent wrong. Fur dark, matted. Head lowered, sniffing.
It lifted its muzzle. For one frozen heartbeat, yellow eyes caught starlight and looked straight at the tower. Then it melted back into shadow. I stayed awake through the false night. Fire banked low below. Body tired but alert. The glow brightened again toward morning. Birds began calling. The forest woke. Nothing else moved.
I descended and started repairs. Hammer and nails from the sack. Braced weak beams on the third floor with scavenged timber. Nailed cross supports. Tested each with my full weight. Solid enough. Spread the canvas tarp over the worst roof gaps. Weighted edges with stones hauled up one by one. Not perfect. Rain would leak in places. Better than fully open.
Swept the third floor clear. Laid my bedroll in the corner with the widest western view. Ground floor became organized storage and hearth. Second floor I avoided except for quick passes. By midday the tower felt claimed. I descended to the stream again. Refilled the waterskin. Gathered deadfall on the return: armloads of dry branches for the fire. Afternoon brought change. Clouds rolled in from the north. Heavy. Dark. Bruising the sapphire sky. Wind rose in gusts, rattling the tarp.
Thunder rumbled distant. I climbed to my post. The forest stirred. Closer now. The silhouette moved between trunks with purpose. Pausing often. Head turning. Learning paths. Avoiding open ground. It knew the tower was occupied. I checked my gear. Torv's short knife at my belt. The longer backup strapped opposite. Hammer in hand. Rope coiled and tied off to a solid beam, one end looped around my waist for emergency drop. Heart beat steady. Whatever hunted these woods was coming closer.
And the tower was mine now.
I tightened my grip and waited. Let it come. The storm was building and so was I.
*****
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