As I approach the Imp corpse, I see my dagger lying in the congealed blood and vomit around the beast and grimace. I walked to the berries after the fight without my dagger, and then I passed out after eating one. If something had attacked me, I'd be dead.

  I need to prepare myself. This game is just beginning, and the stakes are life and death. I gag once as I remove the dagger from the disgusting soup and wipe it in the dirt. That just means that now it's covered in mud, a mud whose liquid base isn't water but instead is a mixture of my vomit and the Imp's blood.

  I walk back to my backpack and rifle through it, finding a spare length of cloth. I clean my dagger and then do my best to clean the fabric without wasting any of my potable water. I lay the rag out to dry by the boulder. Then, I take my backpack and walk back to the corpse.

  I stand still for a moment, staring at the creature that took my fingers and almost my life. It doesn't look so threatening in death. But I still remember the sounds it made when it initially saw me. That joyful sound, a gurgling laughter. I pull up my status and focus on the combat skills tied to my new class.

  Dash (Common) – A quick, incorporeal movement along a single plane.

  Pierce (Common) – An enhanced, deeply penetrative strike.

  Scales (Uncommon) – Skin becomes tougher and acts as a thin, flexible layer of armor.

  They're simple, all of them. A movement skill to help me navigate the battle, Dash. A striking skill that will suit my merchant's dagger, Pierce. And a defensive ability to raise my constitution, Scales.

  Dash and Pierce are common skills, Scales is uncommon. Only some receive an uncommon skill when first unlocking a class or profession. I was lucky to receive one in my profession back in Summerfall.

  Shroud Intent (Uncommon) – Obscure your general intent and interest more effectively.

  Now I have a second one. If I weren't still in a death trap, I would be celebrating right now. I have an uncommon ability, too. Map, though it has yet to be helpful in this place. I can only see the tree and a small circle around it. Everything else is black. No matter how far I zoom out, I cannot find Summerfall.

  I turn my vision towards my center. To feel my new combat core. It lay on the right side of my sternum, and on the left side is my professional core. They are the size of a coin but spherical. I can feel the energy humming in them both. I tap into my combat core; the energy is faint, swirling thinly like air.

  A cautious part of myself wants to save all my energy. I don't know when the next monster will arrive. But no, I need to understand how to use my skills. I pull my dagger back and lunge towards the Imp corpse on the ground, aiming for its stomach. I activate my Pierce Skill mid-motion.

  I can feel the drain coming from my core, and then my dagger explodes through the corpse. It punches a clean hole through the body and out the other side. My dagger slides out smoothly when I pull it from the gaping hole.

  I examine my core more closely and feel the attack drained about a third of it. Now, I need to wait and see how long it takes to fill back up. In the meantime, I fish the hunting knife from my pack and find a place to put it on my belt. It doesn't have the attachment rune like my dagger's sheath, so I just clip it to the belt in the small of my back.

  Then I pull the knife and kneel in the blood by the corpse.

  "Where is your core? Eh?"

  I place the tip of the knife on its rigid breastbone, tracing it lightly down until it skitters over the wound I left in its stomach. I grit my teeth and put the knife away, deciding to start by putting my hand in the new hole in the Imp's torso and feeling upward, seeing if I can reach the chest cavity from that direction.

  It takes a few minutes, and I have to cut through its thick diaphragm. But I pry out the core with only a few dry heaves. It's a rough sphere, glowing faintly with dark red energy. Its size is the same as mine. Is this what my cores look like?

  I reach into my backpack and pull out a square of waxed canvas about the size of a Tlack board. I lay it out in a clean spot by the boulder and then place the core on it. What else does this Imp have of value? I am a merchant's daughter; if I can leave here with some merchandise, I will.

  After some careful consideration, I decided to leave the talons alone. The Imp nails are black and jagged, chipped all over, I can't think of a single use for those. The teeth, though, I'm taking those fuckers. I get to work with my knife; the jaw is already nearly annihilated from my attempt to escape its death grip.

  I remove the lower jaw entirely and begin plucking the teeth out individually. If they were shaped, they would make good arrowheads. I have to scrape away some of my own skin and flesh that is stuck between the monster's teeth. But in the end, I have a small pile of yellowed teeth. I look at it and shrug.

  An hour. It's probably been an hour since I used my Pierce skill on the Imp's stomach. I focus on my core and find that it is nearly completely full. Filling my entire core takes about three hours, which is good. But if I run out of energy during a fight, I'll have to win it without skills. Unless I can kite my foe around for a few hours.

  I pick up the pile of teeth in my cupped hands and carry them to the waxed canvas with the Imp's core. I dump the teeth next to the core. This is where I'll camp. I don't know how long it'll be my home. But I need a place to rest; this boulder is the only real landmark near the tree.

  The earth is flat here, and the boulder sits between me and the gnarled tree. If it weren't such a dead landscape, I would have a fantastic view of the surroundings from here. I can't make out any details when I try to gaze into the distance. Like I am surrounded by fog.

  The half-light is eerie and unchanging. I wonder if I can make a fire. I look around the bushes and find a few of them that are dead. There are no leaves nor berries on their branches. I break them down and carry the sticks to my camp.

  If I ration it well, I have enough food for a week, maybe two. But the Keeper made it sound like completing the Crucible in eight weeks would be rushing it. I'll need to find other sources of food at some point. Can I eat the Imp?

  The question nags at my mind while I set up the fire. Maybe more appetizing creatures will come along after the Imp. Should I wait and see or test it out? I have a nice bundle of sticks ready to burn but found nothing thick enough to provide heat for hours. The branches will burn quick and hot.

  It's not cold yet. Maybe the night won't be so bad. I need to try the Imp meat. I realize it quickly; something about considering a long cold night helps me understand that I am in survival mode. My rations will travel; I might need them later. I can't turn my nose up at fresh meat.

  I walk back to the corpse and slice my knife deep into the dead meat of the Imp's thigh. The meat looks no different than a rabbit's. My father packed me flint and steel, but I've never used them. Luckily, he also packed a tin full of a waxy fire starter. My eyes tear up for a moment. I hope he knows. If I die here. I hope he knows that it helped me, that he helped me.

  This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

  Then the fire catches, and smoke wafts up from the young flames. I blow to make the fire bigger and brighter. Once it starts to die down, I add more branches. I create a spit while it burns down, spear the meat with a branch, and hang it over the red coals.

  I sit cross-legged in front of my campfire. Removing my sheathed dagger from my waist and laying it across my lap. I remember Harrison directing me to do the same in the carriage yesterday.

  Juices fall from the meat and sizzle when they land in the coals. It smells delicious, and my stomach rumbles insistently. Am I really looking forward to eating an Imp? I recall its mishappen head and its gurgling laughter. Gross.

  I am pulled from my thoughts by another shriek. It's as if my Imp recollection somehow summoned another. No, I listen again, standing and pulling my dagger quickly. It's two. I can hear them, their shrieks layered on top of each other. I walk quickly out of my campsite, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness.

  Then I see them and move closer to the site of my first fight. Hoping to draw them both to me and the scent of their dead friend. If they both charge for the tree from opposite directions, there won't be any way for me to stop them.

  "Hey! Ugly! Yeah, over here fuck-faces."

  Their noises rise in pitch, and I can see them; they're closer than I had anticipated. I bounce from foot to foot, my mind running through my new skills. Dash, Pierce, and Scales. Dash, Pierce, and Scales. They move like coyotes through the mist. They are separated by a dozen meters, and they probably aren't going to cooperate with each other. They are charging me with wanton abandon.

  A plan begins to form. A simple one, take out the first, then face the second. I can't let the Imps surround me, or they'll rip me apart.

  I lunge forward, activating my Pierce skill and aiming at its core. That's another good reason to dissect your victims. I feel the dagger slide through its black skin and shatter its breastbone; it rips out the back of the beast, who shrieks in my ear. Its body sags against me, and I only have a moment to activate my Scales before the second Imp hits me from the side. The three of us tumble together, and my dagger is wrenched out of my hand.

  “Fuc-- AGHH”

  I'm using the dead Imp as a shield until it's ripped out of my grasp, and I'm on my back, below the living Imp, in a frighteningly similar position to when I lost my fingers. I have no interest in a repeat performance. I can feel my hunting knife pressing into the small of my back, but in this position, I can't reach it. I do the first thing I can think of and smash my forehead into its face. It rears back but recovers quickly and slashes its talons toward my throat. I cross my arms and block, trusting my bracers and Scales. Then it comes back with the other talon.

  I'm blocking the slobbering Imp, whose only goal seems to be to rip my throat out. I feel my arms tiring, and a scream bursts from my throat, my vision going red. I buck my hips up violently; with its hands busy attacking, it can't help but be thrown over my head, not all the way, but enough for me to wrap my arms tight around its waist and roll us so that I'm on top.

  I punch it in the face. Once, twice. My knuckles catch a tooth, and a deep gash opens up. I hit it again and again. I can't let it catch its breath. I can't let up, or it will strike back. My knuckles are shredded, but I don't stop until its head lends to the side. Its eyes are still open, dazed. I'm breathing heavily. I reach back with a shaky hand and unsheathe the knife; it feels small and light after fighting with my dagger.

  I'm weak, and the Imp's vacant eyes are starting to shift and focus; I can feel my core is empty, and Scales is no longer active. I need to move fast. I hold its head still with my three-fingered left hand, pressing it into the ground and leaning my weight on its head. I jam my hunting knife deep into its neck. The blood from my forearms flows down to mingle with the dark, bubbling blood at its throat. It gurgles and thrashes, its eyes wide with an animal panic, and then it relaxes into death with a rattling groan.

  Fighter Level 1 > Fighter Level 2

  I roll off the Imp, breathless. Then laughter bubbles up from deep in my stomach. It fills me with a profound sense of relief and unbridled joy. The emotions surprise me, but the pain isn't that bad; it's bright and exciting. The blood smells earthy and sharp. I've never felt more alive.

  I stand up and kick the twitching Imp once in the stomach. It doesn't react.

  "Ha, that's what I thought, bitch."

  Then I wipe the hunting knife on my pants and sheath it. I find my bloody merchant's dagger lying a few feet from the first Imp's corpse. I remember Arthur's advice about cleaning it before sheathing it. I chuckle and wipe that on my pants, too. It'll be fine. If I need to buy a few new sheaths in two months, It means I survived this place. I'll celebrate it.

  I walk over to the berry patch with a slight smile. My injuries aren't limited to my knuckles and my forearms. I can feel sharp, long slices along the sides of my back where the armor doesn't cover. My scalp is bleeding, though that could be from our tumble.

  I pluck a berry, feeling in much better shape than the last time I stumbled over to these bushes. Two Imps at once. I smile again.

  "Thanks for the berries, birdy," I say, looking up to the tree where the Phoenix once perched.

  Then I pop the berry into my mouth and scream, falling to my knees. My vision starts to narrow as the flames migrate through my body. My last thought is to reach for the dagger on my hip. Then I fall into darkness.

  I wake on dry land instead of in sticky blood. That's new. Also, I feel good. How long was I out?

  I stand up, feeling stronger. Turning my gaze inward, I sense the density of energy in my combat core has doubled. The perks of level 2.

  "Okay, okay. Not bad at all."

  I reach to my hip and rest my three-fingered left hand on the pommel of my dagger. The missing fingers hadn't really bothered me during the fight. I could feel a lingering pain, an ache that felt bone deep, and when I made a fist, it felt strange. But really, it hadn't hindered me since I lost them. Strange. My stomach grumbles.

  "Oh shit, no!"

  I run over to my campfire. I can smell the sickly, sweet stench of burned meat. At some point, it had fallen off the stick and into the fire. I gather more branches and feed the fire again. I cut a new slab of meat from one of my fresh kills and set it up to cook.

  As the meat crackles, I think of my life. Only a few hours ago, I was tucking myself in for the night, safe in a wagon with a happy family. It wasn't my happy family. But I was surrounded by kind faces. I would have spent today riding in the front with Dirk, and at night, I would help him care for the horses. My mind finally lands on Nyce.

  Nyce. My friend. I've been avoiding thinking of her, and there have been plenty of distractions. I thought she was my friend. I trusted her. I followed her here like a stupid puppy. I dug my own grave and laughed at her jokes the whole while. No idea that from the first moment we met, this was her plan. She sought me out on my walk by the carriage. She called me her friend.

  I'm going to get out of here. Then I'm going to kill Nyce, kill her whole family. I picture her dead, still, like the Imps. My dagger through her narrow chest. It makes me happy. The thought of watching her bulging eyes as they realize that she's already dead. I want that.

  The meat is done cooking. I cut it in the middle and see it's hot all the way through. I hesitate for a moment, but the smell is too enticing. What's the worst that can happen? I shit my brains out and die? That doesn't sound so bad. I sink my teeth in and rip off a chunk. It's delicious, and I barely chew it before swallowing. I eat it until I'm stuffed. The food sits warm and thick in my stomach, reminding me of home.

  Soon, I'm crying. Sobbing. Hunched over my slightly overcooked Imp thigh kebab. The sobs wrack my body for minutes, and then I am done. Exhausted, I fall asleep with half-eaten meat lying forgotten in the dirt beside me.

  When I wake, my eyes are crusted shut. It takes a minute and some scrubbing to clear them of the crusties. Both blood and eye boogies. I can't remember the last time I slept so deeply. It must have been hours; I feel well-rested. Did the Keeper let me have a break? Did he let me rest? Is that something he would do?

  As the thought crosses my mind, a deep roar splits the air. Where's my dagger? I pick it up off the ground, attaching the sheath to my side and jogging to the killing grounds. The half-light remains, though I'm sure I slept for hours. I see it, strolling with heavy steps, my next enemy.

  Elite Imp – Level 5

  This Imp is twice the size of its predecessors. It's as tall as me, and it stands on two legs. It has the same ugly, razor-filled mouth and sharp talons. Its steps are heavy, and it pauses when it sees me. It looks between the Cinderfruit tree and me, then back to the tree. It steps towards the tree, and I move to stand in its path.

  The Imp shows me its teeth. Then it lets loose another roar, spittle flying meters from its open maw. Then it charges. I stand waiting. I'm covered in blood, missing two fingers, and my armor is scratched and punctured. I walk, jog, then sprint to meet the monster.

  It roars again, and I match it with one of my own.