Chapter 7: After the Storm
The rain eased as suddenly as it had arrived. One moment the world roared with water and wind, the next only a steady patter on leaves and the occasional drip from the torn tarp overhead. Steam rose from the forest floor where faint golden light pierced the clouds again. The storm had passed, leaving everything soaked and strangely clean.
Lira and I sat on opposite sides of the small fire she had rebuilt on the ground floor. Flames crackled over fresh branches, pushing back the chill that had settled into my bones. My tunic clung cold and heavy. Blood—mine and the beast's—had dried in dark patches on my arms and chest. Pain throbbed in my shoulder, ribs, and a dozen smaller places.
Lira worked in silence at first. She pulled a small leather pouch from her belt, opened it, and laid out bandages, a tin of green salve, needle and thread. Ranger perks, apparently. Her hands moved with practiced calm.
"Shirt off," she said. Not a request.
I peeled the soaked tunic over my head. Winced as fabric tugged at cuts.
She whistled low. "You look like you lost a fight with a thresher."
"Felt like it."
The worst was the claw rake across my left shoulder: three parallel gashes, deep enough to show muscle. Bruising bloomed purple around my ribs. Smaller cuts crisscrossed arms and torso. She cleaned the wounds with water from her own skin, then applied the salve. It stung sharp, then cooled. Smelled of pine and something sharp, medicinal.
"Field dressing?" I asked.
"Advanced," she corrected. "Ranger starting skill. Plus a few points in Herbalism." She threaded the needle. "This'll hurt."
I nodded.
She stitched the deepest gash closed. Quick, efficient stitches. I gritted teeth and stared at the fire. Pain grounded me. Real. Earned.
When she finished, she bound everything with clean linen. Knotted it tight.
"You'll live," she said. "Might scar. Probably should."
I pulled the tunic back on carefully. "Thanks. Again."
She shrugged, packing away her kit. "Three arrows bought me the right to patch you up."
We sat in silence a while. Fire popped. Water dripped somewhere above.
I broke it first. "How did you find me so fast?"
"Tracked you from the village. Mira pointed the way. Said a Null took the tower job. Figured it was the guy from the meadow." She poked the fire with a stick. "Then the storm hit. Saw that thing heading straight here. Ran the last mile."
"Lucky timing."
"Not luck. Ranger passive: Danger Sense. Tingles when something big and hungry gets close. Started buzzing an hour out."
I leaned back against the stone wall. Exhaustion crept in now that adrenaline faded.
"So," she said after a minute. "Null Path. You actually went through with it."
"I did."
"Why?"
I considered the question. Really considered it.
"Because every other choice felt like handing control to someone else. Classes. Skills. Builds. All predefined. I spent years on Earth letting other people script my life. Jobs I hated. Goals that weren't mine. Even games—always min-maxing someone else's meta." I met her eyes across the flames. "Here, I wanted blank. I wanted to write it myself."
She studied me. Firelight danced in her dark eyes.
"Dangerous way to think," she said quietly. "Most Nulls I heard about didn't last a week."
"Most don't get saved by a Ranger with perfect aim."
A small smile tugged her mouth. "Fair."
Silence again. Comfortable.
She pulled two wrapped packages from her pack. Handed one over. Rabbit, roasted earlier. Still warm somehow.
We ate. Simple. Good.
"My brother," she said suddenly. "He was nine. Loved games. Begged for alpha access to whatever big VR thing was coming. When the prompt hit, he was at a sleepover. Different city." Her voice stayed steady, but fingers tightened on the rabbit bone. "I keep hoping he's here. Somewhere. If I get strong enough, explore far enough…"
She trailed off.
I nodded. "Then we're both chasing ghosts."
"Guess so."
The fire settled into steady glow.
I shifted, testing bandages. Pain dulled to ache.
"Tell me about the beast," I said.
She leaned forward, elbows on knees.
"Called it a Corrupted Apex in the text you got?"
I nodded.
"Matches rumors. Rangers get a bestiary perk. Unlocks entries as we encounter things. Mine updated after the arrows hit." She frowned. "Says it's not native. Something old woke up. Or broke out. Corrupted by whatever's bleeding into the zones."
"Zones?"
"Starter areas like this. Supposed to be safe. Balanced. But lately… not. Monsters stronger. Spawns wrong. Hunters vanishing." She glanced up at the stairs. "That thing? Level twenty at least. We shouldn't see it here for years."
I thought of the stag-thing. The mercy deed. The claw marks.
"It's connected," I said.
"Maybe."
We talked longer. Shared details. She described her starting forest. Tutorial quests. Party invites she turned down to search alone. I told her about the wounded creature. The spring. First skill from mercy, not violence. Her eyebrows rose at that.
"Wild affinity from helping, not killing? That's… rare."
"Null perk, maybe."
"Or just you."
Night deepened outside, though true darkness never came. Stars wheeled slowly. I stood, tested balance. Stiff but mobile.
"Roof's wrecked," I said. "But third floor's usable. Best view west."
She nodded. "I'll take watch. You sleep."
"Not yet." I climbed the stairs slowly. She followed.
The third floor was a mess. Tarp shredded. Claw marks scored stone where the beast had fought. Black blood mixed with rain puddles. We cleared what we could. Pushed debris aside. Re-secured the tarp with fresh nails and rope. Then we sat against the wall, looking west. Forest breathed below. Steam still rose. No movement yet.
Lira strung her bow quietly. Checked arrows. Twenty left, bodkin points. I sharpened both knives on a stone from the wall. Slow, rhythmic strokes. We talked in low voices. About Earth. What we missed. What we didn't. She missed her brother's laugh. Rain on real windows. Her mom's kimchi. I missed quiet nights with the rig humming. Energy drinks at 3 a.m. The feeling of loading into a new game world for the first time. We didn't talk about what we'd lost forever. Hours had passed.
Then text appeared for me alone:
Deed recorded: Alliance formed in the face of shared threat.
Skill unlocked: Basic Tracking (Passive).
New title: Storm Survivor.
I shared it. Lira read over my shoulder.
"Storm Survivor," she murmured. "Fitting."
Dawn glow brightened, or what passed for it. No sign of the beast. But tracks would be fresh in the mud.
Lira stood. "We hunt it tomorrow?"
I stood beside her.
"Tomorrow," I agreed.
The tower felt different now. No longer just mine. It was ours. And the Game had taken notice.
*****
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