Gareth gracefully knelt in front of his master with a far cry more bodily control than he'd had just 6 months ago. He knelt on his knees, with his feet uncomfortably tucked beneath him. It was a foreign custom, similar to ancient Japanese practices, that Guanji was forcing him to practice in preparation for meetings with foreign delegations.
“You fought well.” Guanji acknowledged from his kneeled position.
“Thank you, master.” He bowed forward slightly.
Guanji waved his thanks away, “You have progressed faster than I could have ever hoped. You show much promise, my disciple.”
Gareth bowed again but stayed silent, he could sense the ‘but’ in his master's tone.
Yet it never came.
He had progressed from the 15 920th rank to rank 15 612. A massive jump. Guanji explained that it meant 228 people were travelling away from Volun at the moment, so their ranking was frozen. He could skip past them, but he could expect a challenge to his ranking in the next few weeks. Unless he left Volun himself... Like he was planning to do.
The stab in the back had knocked him out briefly, but once the healers stitched him up, his bloodline boosts had him good as new the very next day. He also learned just how fucking excellent these people's health system was. He didn't win a prize in the tournament because he had to be treated, the expense going to the healers instead. People who lost and treated are covered by the entrance fee that each person had to pay.
On a small scale, this system would be unfeasible, but on a large scale, where thousands of combat-crazed fighters each paid a participation cost, and each spectator paid a modest spectating fee, and all the other vendors paid rent to the arena, the cost of the healers came out net-positive.
It was a system that Gareth could appreciate, given how Mistress Connolly had enslaved him with extortionate amounts of medical debt.
“You have finally reached tier 1 of body cultivation. You have entered the Second Infusion tier and must eventually choose an organ in which to specialise. But first…” he smiled coyly. “An opportunity.” His hand slid up his sleeve, revealing a yellow, tattered scroll carefully held in his weathered hands. “This is called a spell scroll.” He gently handed it to Gareth, “Do not open it.”
They made some intense eye contact as Gareth carefully took his hand away from the metal seal. Only once his other hand was safely resting in his lap did Guanji continue.
“There are various grades of Spell Scrolls. The one that you are holding is a legendary grade {Fire Pillar} spell. The only one of its kind in the Empire.”
“It lets me cast the spell?” He asked and carefully tilted the velum scroll this way and that, trying to see the writing inside without breaking the metallic seal. Weird. I wonder how they melt the metal to drip it onto the page without burning the scroll?
“A spell scroll is much better than simply letting you cast the spell once. Instead, it will inscribe the runes required for the spell into your very meridians, making it possible to cast the spell repeatedly, and nearly at will.” He gestured his hand, and Gareth returned the scroll to him, where it swiftly disappeared back into his robe sleeve. “The market accepted rarity of a spell scroll does not always equate to its effectiveness. A spell scroll of {Sweep Floor}, which is exceedingly rare, would never be chosen to inscribe onto a meridian. At least not to those who could actually afford to buy spell scrolls.”
“So...they're valuable?” Gareth's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, while a mischievous smirk snuck onto his lips. Gareth's poor upbringing reared its head as he smelled money.
“Extremely. The only way to ascend past the Spell Inscription tier of Elemental Cultivation is to inscribe each of your main meridians with a spell. They are, therefore, bought as quickly as they are made. Unfortunately, they are extremely difficult to create, as the spellwork is volatile and might implode. The materials to create them are commensurately expensive. The largest producer of Spell scrolls, Marryvale, is currently having a tiff with our Ellis family. Spell scrolls are therefore even more expensive than usual.”
Guanji smiled kindly as he saw Gareth's mischievous look turn calculating, “You will need to start collecting them as soon as possible if you want to become an Elemental or Qi cultivator.”
Gareth frowned in confusion, “I thought I would be staying with Body Cultivation for the next few tiers?”
Guanji nodded sagely, “Body Cultivation will remain your main path, but you will need a secondary path to accent the first. For that, you will eventually need Spell Scrolls, and you need to start collecting them as soon as possible. We cannot buy them for you, as it is seen as a right of passage to use Spell Scrolls that were acquired on your own Dao. You will find the scrolls…that were fated to find you.”
Gareth didn't really believe in destiny or fate, but he smiled at Guanji. They had done so much for him already; he was thankful that they would also respect his independence. He disliked being given things for free. They knew this. Guanji was giving the independence he craved. A good long-term project to focus on.
“I’ll include this endeavour in my path, Master, though I would appreciate some advice on where I could find them… if you are willing to share?” He smirked like a cat with a rat.
Gareth would always try to see what information Guanji was willing to give away freely. It was a tactic Gareth had been taught to employ subtly in his spycraft lessons, and he could do so with relative competence. The problem was that Guanji had taught him this, so Gareth couldn't hide shit.
Gareth likewise couldn't hide his shiteating grin, because Guanji knew that he knew that Guanji knew, but Guanji approved, because he was executing what he'd been trained. He was technically correct, and for someone as pragmatic as Guanji, that was the best kind of correct.
Guanji likewise gained a glint of business in his eye, “Of course. There are multiple ways to acquire Spell Scrolls.
#1: Purchase them at an auction.
#2: Win them in tournaments.
#3: find them in dungeons or rifts.
And lastly, #4: trade for them.
These are the most popular methods among the Jianghu. To make a spell scroll requires decades - sometimes centuries - of runic knowledge. Not to mention meridian specialised medical expertise, combined with a specific Elemental Mastery to make a single type of scroll.”
"So, no quick business scheme?" Gareth joked as that light in his eyes slowly dimmed, crushed by reality once again. He may have left the hustle of Terra, but the hustle had not yet left him. He needed to make some cash on his own and was willing to consider every avenue of opportunity to become independent. Guanji had just given him the exact information Gareth would need to find a scroll. Now, he just needed to digest that information and figure out a workable plan.
Gareth slouched, speculatively rubbing his chin, “I don't have much money, so I can't buy it. I doubt I'm good enough to win them in tournaments..." Guanji gave him some time to think. "I've been wanting to see what all the hype is about these dungeons or rifts.”
Guanji nodded, “Excellent choice. I feel that you would reap much from it, and fate will grant you great rewards.” He winked. “Now go! Make haste to Oliver! He will lead you to the forging district, then you will be off to Vormire.”
“As you will it, Master.” He bowed forward slightly, and Guanji reciprocated.
On the threshold of a new start, Gareth looked at his Character Sheet.
He'd gotten so many new abilities and traits in the last few months that it was hard to keep track of them all.
Many of the abilities had unseen effects, like [Exacting strength] and [Serpent's might], have internal effects that strengthen or boost him directly. The most confusing was the Aggregate bloodline. He didn't even know what it did. He also didn't know who was coming for him, from his last system message. It kinda freaked him out, but Guanji assured him there was very little he could do other than what he was already doing: getting stronger.
The air that morning was dark, wet, and filled with opportunity. The Looming Cliffs shaded hid the light of Sol until halfway through Midday, leaving its inhabitants stuck in an artificial Night for longer than most other Imperial cities. Volun was not a nice place to stay. It was dark, drying your clothes took forever since it always rained, mould formed easily and everywhere, and any outdoors activity had to be done with an umbrella. It was still better than a dank torture chamber with the screams of those begging for death filling his ears.
“Junior Brother! I presume you are here for the sword?” Oliver greeted happily and slapped his massive hand onto Gareth's shoulder. He'd met Oliver, as usual, by the training hall.
“Fuck yeah, I'm here for a sword!” Gareth laughed and held two thumbs up. Epic.
“Indeed. Now! I believe the forges are in the merchant's district. You will find them easily enough. Just follow the main road running through the city, and turn right when you hear the clanking.”
Gareth had been under the impression that Oliver would be buying him the sword, but his large mentor just laughed loudly.
He explained that he wouldn't always be there to hold Gareth's hand when he didn't have money. He needed to find a way to barter with a smith and get the sword for a reasonable price, or to find the materials himself and pay for the labour. Gareth didn’t moan, as he was sometimes wont to do, because he was faced with something he was actually somewhat familiar with, resource acquisition. His job when he'd been on Terra, and working for Madame Connolly, was to either gather intelligence or steal it. He'd grown up on the streets bargaining for each creddy, because the corpo cunts would bleed him with microtransactions. He knew how to bargain hunt.
So, he assured Oliver that he would find his way and headed down the stone path running through Volun’s Golden District.
The city was much as he remembered it: wet, woody, and filled with magic. The only difference was that some of the buildings he passed now had faded runes that didn't glow as strongly as before, or were drained entirely. The influence of the Maryvalian's pressure. The people looked the same, though. No hungry faces, polite respect for other people's spaces, and smiling faces as old friends reconnected.
Gareth had grown used to the sight of the massive, majestic Volun tree towering over the city, but he never stopped admiring its beauty. Its mana leaves made the rain sparkle better than the most heavily advertised, billboard-filled skyscraper that Terra had to offer. Not necessarily in brightness, but because of its beautiful, natural, subtle luminescence. It just had more charm to it than concrete jungles.
Gareth crossed over the bridge, down the road with Shekaron's spooky hedge maze on one side, and the thundering storm of Neoborg’s temple on the other. Then past the farms, over another bridge, and finally into the edge of the merchants' district.
He could remember seeing a blacksmith the first time he came into Volun with Ivor Hansen - I wonder how he's doing - and knew he needed to stay on the road for now. He hadn't heard anything from Margrave or Guanji about Ivor Hansen, so he assumed no news was good news.
He passed a grand hotel with footmen at the door, ready to assist, shops selling jewellery, a magic item store called Marvin's Magical Marvels - I want to stop in there once I have some money - a few open floor restaurants, and a dirt road that led to a massive ‘campground’ of amateur merchants, crafters, and people who couldn't afford housing in the main city. He saw people chilling on chairs under extended tent roofs, having drinks with their friends. Four young people made food in a pot, over a somewhat covered braai area, sharing stories and laughing. He saw something on that short walk that he hadn't seen in 23 years on Terra...Community. A group of people who cared about their fellow man. A group of people who could sit together and exchange stories, without being afraid that those stories would be used as a point of ridicule. He even saw one young cultivator, barely past his 20th birthday, showing off what was likely the first medal he'd won in the arena.
Guanji and Ellisandra had made him a part of their community. They had exchanged gifts as the first light of Dawn graced the Empire, at least as far as the calendar was concerned. He felt that he could finally point to a part of his life where he had his own community, where he had his own support network. It felt...nice.
When he started hearing loud hammering sounds, he knew he was close. When he saw a man hammering at a sword, he knew he'd found the right place.
“Good afternoon, senior. I am here to commission a sword to be made.” Gareth said humbly and executed a shallow martial bow.
“Can't help you there, fellow. I be a blacksmith, I make ploughs, tools, nails and bolts. If ye want a quality blade, then you’ll have to commission one at the Goibhniu crafters hall. It'll cost you a large leaf, though.”
He looked Gareth’s clothes up and down, then his eyes latched onto the sword. “Ye could likely afford it..."Gareth was struck dumb, as this was the first time someone had mistaken him for being rich. He struggled to find the words, but the guy continued before it became completely awkward. "Anyway, they're right down this here side street. Ye see the tall building, there at the back?” He gestured down a gravel road that disappeared into the rain, yet shining through it like a lighthouse in the dark rose a lantern-bedecked pagoda.
“Thanks, senior!”
His heritage made him subconsciously raise his hand to wave, while the conscious part of his brain bowed in the traditional Volun way. A brief mental misfire made him do both - an act that left him looking rather foolish. Seeing this as his chance to bow out with whatever dignity he had left, he headed down the street, gravel crunching beneath his leather boots.
He soon found the large five-storey pagoda, with an elaborately carved wooden sign over the large double door that said ‘Goibhniu Crafters Hall’. The building was beautiful in an ancient, traditional, Eastern way that drew Gareth's eyes to the smallest details. The white plastered walls were decorated with intricate geometric patterns of cut wooden slats. Eight giant red wood pillars, one at each point of the octagon shaped building, supported the immense weight of the roof and other structures. Each was carved by a master carpenter, and Gareth could spend days studying just a single pillar.
He walked through the double doors to find a receptionist at the entryway, a soot-covered young guy about Gareth's age. His white hemp clothes had some burn marks and soot staining, but otherwise looked clean. Gareth greeted him and asked for directions to the bladesmiths. The guy looked him up and down speculatively, as if Gareth was the one improperly dressed for this place, and sent him down a large hallway to the right. Legendary swords, mastercrafted armour, and a few other weapons tastefully decorated the walls of the hallway, making Gareth feel like he was in the right place. Though he doubted he'd even be able to afford anything.
The interior walls were made from rice-paper dividers, with elaborate wooden supports carved in the shapes of swirling flowered vines. The floor was laid in sturdy amber wood planks that didn't creak or thud as he stepped on them, indicating excellent building standards. Warm mage-lights lined either side of the wall in a staggered pattern, which gave the entire place a welcoming air. While Gareth found the construction attractive, he couldn't help but worry about the obscene fire risk.
These people were smiths who worked with fire for a living. Not to mention that this was the only entrance he'd seen. It was a disaster waiting to happen. He decided he'd rather not stick around for too long.
Two hallways branched off to the left and right; the receptionist had pointed him down the one on the left. After turning a corner in the hallway, he walked through a pair of double doors, where a wall of sound suddenly assaulted his senses. Immediately past the doorway, the hall opened up to a large flea-market type vibe. The hall lost the wood flooring, which became stone. The rice-paper walls were foregone entirely in favour of grey bricks that seperated the stalls lining the path. Each stall had its own small forge and chimney, letting all the smoke and fire escape without suffocating the smiths. Large vents were prevalent in the brick walls, though he rarely saw any windows leading outside.
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Shoppers walked up and down the path, peering into the stalls to see what they had on offer. It seemed that each stall had a forge in the back, with the front of the stall reserved for displaying the craftsman’s wares on wooden racks. Klinking, klanging, and chattering filled the air as smiths plied their trade while shoppers haggled for a bargain. It smelled like coal, tar, oil, and a healthy dose of sweat. An assault on the senses, to say the least. The abrupt change from no noise at all to cacophonous smithing struck him as odd, so he gave the doorway he'd just stepped through a quick glance. Where all the flammable materials stopped, and stone began, runes engraved into the rock glowed brightly. He hazarded a guess that sound-dampening enchantments were used? Runes weren't a part of his studies as of yet.
Taking a deep breath to centre himself, Gareth stepped down the path...and marvelled at all the cool ancient weapons displayed on racks, or sometimes just a blanket.
It seemed the stalls were arranged in ascending order, with tier 1 smiths being closest to the doors and higher tiers being deeper into the building. Each stall was marked with the tier symbol of what the smith was capable of, just a simple wooden board hanging on the brick divider between stalls. Tier 1 was represented as an image of a man posing in a fighting stance, Tier 2 as a pouncing tiger, Tier 3 as a hunting shark, Tier 4 as a forged steel gryphon, while Tier 5 was a carved jade dragon. The only reason he even knew about the jade dragon demarcation was because a guarded elevator at the end of the hall was decorated in the shape of a jade dragon with a big-ass 5 on it.
The tier 1 smiths seemed very young, like in their teens, but he looked at their displayed wares and couldn't find much fault in their designs.
Well, Oliver did tell me to find a young smith so that I can develop them as a contact.
“Excuse me!” He called into a stall where a young woman, about 19, was hammering out a sword at her anvil. Her display featured mostly traditional double-edged longswords, with some daggers and short swords thrown into the mix.
Her flushed, slightly sweaty face looked up, “Aye, what can this one help you with?”
She placed the sword she was forging to the side, on a bed of sand for it to cool down gradually. She wiped her soot-stained hands on her leather apron, which honestly made little difference.
“I’m looking for a Low-Tier 2 longsword to be commissioned for myself?” He phrased it as a question.
“I can forge your sword, but I’m currently busy with a project for a different client. I’ll only be able to make it tomorrow, at the earliest.” Her brown eyes seemed to say that she was sorry but that she wouldn't compromise for a stranger.
“That’s fine,” he smiled brightly. People trusted an honest smile and were often more willing to help or accommodate a friendly smile than an irritated stare. “My mentor said that I could barter for the sword to be made with the materials I bring, and I’ll get a discount?”
She winced slightly, “Aye, you can. But you’ll still have to pay for the labour I’m doing.”
He noted the wince but ignored it, “I don't mind. I just came by to find out what materials I need to get for the sword.”
“What tier are you again?” She looked him up and down, but he did not smell any beast cores on her, so she was likely a Qi cultivator - the opposite side of the coin for elemental cultivators. Unlike elemental mages, who were predominantly mid to long-range fighters, Qi cultivators couldn't push their viscous mana very far outside their bodies before losing control. They therefore focused more heavily on crafting, infusing their crafts with mana and strengthening them beyond the effects of mere enchantments.
“I'm tier one.” He smiled happily. If there was anyone to build a long-term arrangement with, it was someone who could make his blades truly special. She was currently his prime candidate.
She looked at him like he was crazy, “Then, how do you expect to wield your blade?”
Metals and other materials became heavier as they rose in tier, so her fear was likely valid: “I'm a body cultivator.”
Her pale straw brow raised incredulously, “And that doesn't mean you could handle a blade above your tier. Are you buying it for the next tier?”
He felt that she wouldn't believe him until he showed her, so he gestured towards a tier 2 longsword with an ivory handle, “May I?”
She frowned slightly, somewhat unwilling to let some stranger handle her wares, yet curious to see where this went. Ultimately, the spark of curiosity won out, “Sure, but if you damage it somehow, you'll have to buy it.”
He waved off her fear and hefted the blade, "Don't stress, I've got this."
The weapon was at least double the weight of his current sword, which meant it would be ideal to enhance his fighting style. His current strength meant his blade was too light, which was fine for now as he could leverage his speed, but the problem would be when he hit Level 7. If his sword was too light now, it would be downright unwieldy when he improved his muscles yet again. He was just future-proofing himself a little.
He made sure there was no one in his immediate vicinity, looked her in the eye, winked, and started twirling the sword around in his katas.
She looked at him like he was stupid for his wink until he actually started swinging the sword around with some proficiency. As he did more and more complex manoeuvres, her brows rose and…her eyes rolled.
“Fine-fine, you've proven your point. Now put my sword down before you hurt someone.”
He laughed at her gruffness, “Thank you kindly. I'm Gareth by the way…” he bowed.
“Ember Hopeshard.” She also bowed, though kept her eyes on him as he returned the blade to its stand.
“It's a pleasure to meet you. Do you have any idea where I can find the materials you need for the sword?”
She nodded as she walked back toward her forge, “Aye, I need 10 Litres of demon blood - it doesn't matter what kind - to quench the blade. You should be able to find it if you take a contract for the Leeches at the Adventurers guild. Heard the bloodsucking bastards have been a problem recently.”
Gareth nodded as he took out his notebook from a pocket.
“The other materials are going to be a bit tricky.” She used her tongs to place the blade back in the coal forge. “The best place to find infused materials would be either a dungeon or a rift. There is a dungeon not too far outside of Volun; the Vormire Dungeon, they call it. Go there, and you'll likely find what I need.” She picked up her hammer, refastened her apron and picked up the tongs holding the long piece of unshaped metal, “I need ten kilograms of essence-rich metal ore, and two kilograms of essence-rich wood/bone/horn, does not particularly matter which.”
“Just any essence-rich metal?”
She smirked coyly, “Of course. I'll forge whatever you bring, so make sure it's the best...for a good result.” She winked, and before Gareth could ask any other questions, her hammer raised…and fell.
-
Gareth walked back all the way to the training arena where Oliver worked and told him what she'd told him.
“Well, it sounds like you have a quest then. Venture to the Vormire Dungeon and retrieve the materials. I will see you to the Adventurer's guild to pick up the bounty. But you must find a container within which to store the blood.”
“A bag of holding won't work?”
“Nay, it would contaminate everything else in the bag. Demonic blood is temperamental in nature. The scent of the blood will likewise lure predators and other demonic leeches. It must therefore be kept in a sealed container…an urn perhaps?”
Gareth grimaced, “That's going to be a bitch to lug around.”
“That is why you will collect it on the return trip.” He said and winked roguishly, as if he'd just given sage-level advice.
“Fair enough.” Gareth shrugged and looked around at all the people training in their various sand pits. Oliver had some new students, though he had taken a second to chat while they practiced their katas. It was strange to think that, just a few short years ago, he'd been one of those 'saplings'. It didn't feel like he'd been here for two years. He didn't feel completely ready to take on a dungeon by himself. Yet as he spotted the flaws in Oliver's student's footwork, he realised he was more prepared for combat than he'd ever been. He might still have a ways to go, but ya boy could breathe fire. I'll be fine.
They chatted for a while as Oliver finished up his practice session, then they headed off to the guild. While they walked, they filled their conversation with discussions about what the dungeon might hold.
“It's often best to run it with a party, but given that you don't have a party, you would just be completing the first two floors by yourself.” Oliver assured him it wouldn't be that hard and that the first few floors would be child’s play for him. If he noticed he was in trouble, he could always just retreat. Simple...right? I can breathe fire, and I can just run away. It's always that simple, isn't it?
They arrived at the Adventurer’s guild, where Gareth had already gotten his qualifications with a few simple combat and fitness tests. He was only a Sapling, though. The starting rank in the Guild.
Oliver showed him the notice board where missions were posted, and unpinned the bounty for the demonic leeches that the city lord himself had commissioned.
Technically, Gareth was too low-ranking to accept the mission. But if Oliver accepted it on Gareth’s behalf and Gareth handed the collected leech tails to Oliver as proof of completion of the contract, then it wasn't breaking the rules.
They checked in at the mission desk, where a very pretty lady smiled behind the counter. Then, after a professional acknowledgement that the mission was accepted, they were on their way once more.
Oliver, on behalf of Guanji, took him to buy an adventurer’s bag with rope, climbing hooks, a collapsible 15ft hooked pole, flint and steel, and 3 torches. Some rations of dried meat, biscuits, dried fruits and two waterskins. Then, a very thin bedroll and a tarp for a tent.
Oliver clapped a hand onto Gareth's shoulder as they left the general goods store, “Fare thee well, junior brother. The Vormire dungeon is 25 miles due west of Volun. Depart from the main gate, turn left, walk until you find the Crystalline River, and follow it until you reach the small river town where the Neighing Hippo Inn resides. Turn due north, towards the Looming Cliffs, and walk until you see the fortress on the horizon. The journey shouldn't take more than two weeks. Be on your guard. Beware strangers, for you know not their motives, and most importantly…Have fun.”
He slapped Gareth on the back, pushing him towards the gate.
-
Gareth stepped out of civilisation feeling the trepidation of venturing into the unknown...alone. Yet, he felt prepared for the first time in his life. Back on Terra, he'd been scrambling from one emergency to the next. He’d felt powerless against Ian’s men, and Oliver still sparred with him like a child. His only consolation was that he had fought people of his own rank and held his own. Not only had he won, but he’d done so relatively well.
While it was technically Dawn, Volun, and its surroundings were still in the shade of the cliff. This meant that it was still cold, it was still raining, but at least it wasn't as dark as full Night. Honestly, it wasn't even that dark once his passive [Darkvision] trait kicked in.
For all that he was a traitor, Connor Grimsbane had taught him everything he needed to know to survive the wilds that dominated the Empire. Its borders spanned more than 600 000 square miles, and only five major cities were safe to live in. The rest of the imperial lands belonged to the beasts that inhabit the hinterlands. Yet, Gareth could now somewhat reliably identify animal and beast species, edible plants, how to find fresh water in the wild, how to travel in which biome, and where to seek civilisation if he got lost.
From Ellisandra, he had learned that the people of the Yun Cheng Empire were diverse. That they would test him if they ran into him in the wild, and that he had to conduct himself in a certain way to avoid conflicts. The empire's customs were so diverse, in fact, that it was a miracle all-out war didn't break out more often. Yet only a man at the peak of the mortal realm could unite them. Only the emperor had the power to bring the other cities to heel.
Gareth heard the ground crunch under his boot as he stepped off the main road out of Volun. He breathed deeply of the crisp morning air, scenting jungle, beast, and opportunity.
Utgard was a realm of strength, and Gareth had taken his first step into the world of Giants.
-
The rainforest started literally as soon as Greth stepped onto the dirt path that would lead to the river. Water droplets dripped through the thick canopy above, though it sheltered him from the worst of the rain. The prehistoric sounds of birds and little pterosaurs calling echoed hauntingly through the vine-covered trees. Both sides of the path were veritably choked with vegetation and trees. One step off the path and whatever dangers he knew lived in this rainforest would become very real, very fast…if he didn't keep his head on his shoulders.
He was cautious as he walked down the dirt path, which he could see would end in sand as it devolved into a trail. Loud growls, hisses, and yaps alerted him to a large iguana fighting a badger the size of a dog, not six feet off the trail. Looking up, he spotted a brightly coloured snake battling it out with a praying mantis, each striking in and darting away in a flash, neither making headway.
Connor had taught him that the jungle floor was too dangerous to walk on, at least for him. So, he needed to walk in the bottom layer of thick branches, higher up in the canopy. The trees and vines were so closely packed near Volun that one could actually travel between the massive boughs like walking a trail, though it would take all his athletic skills not to fall.
The athleticism he needed to do this would have been impossible without his bloodlines strengthening him. It would also be too easy to say that the strength he had earned was purely because of Body cultivation. The truth was that he had trained harder in the last year than was strictly possible...or safe. Only the fact that he had the best coach in Volun allowed him to get this fit. Only the fact that he literally couldn't die allowed this familiarity with what his body could and couldn't do. His Traits and Abilities only enhanced what was already there.
[Glacial Heart] and [Breath of Victory] had raised his cap of endurance, allowing him to run further each time he collapsed. [Volgan Gale] and [Exacting Strength] then allowed him to wear himself out faster, and increase his endurance. It was a great repetitive cycle of working himself to death for his improvement.
Each time his body was broken down, the essence and mana of the realm would infuse his injuries and rebuild him stronger than before.
He did more than just run; he fought with blade, bow, and fist. He traversed obstacle courses until his feet and hands blistered, until those blisters tore off. He beat against a wooden training dummy until his bones cracked. Then he would awaken a bloodline and improve his potential further.
This all meant that Gareth ran up to the trees around him, mapped out a mental path to get to where he needed to go, and lunged upward. He stepped on a nearby stump to the right, kept his momentum going and jumped eight feet up, stepping onto a thick vine. Lithely using it as a stepping stone, he latched onto a swinging vine more than three body lengths away, yet his iron grip and fingers-like-fish-hooks easily made the grab with both hands. He kept his momentum and swung directly upwards as if the vine was a monkey bar, safely making it to a branch thick enough to hold him, only slightly higher.
He placed his hand against the stem to steady himself and re-assessed his path.
His striking blue eyes followed the stem upwards and saw thicker branches nine feet up, only slightly higher than he could jump.
The next tree over was 16 feet away, but he saw that that one would be easier to climb as the branches were closer together. He saw a branch that could hold him, took a breath, ran, and leapt. His ass puckered. The wind rushed through his hair for a split second before he stuck the landing on the other branch and hugged the stem to stop his momentum.
Then it was just a simple matter of climbing a bit higher until the canopy was slightly scarcer.
He used the ever-present looming cliffs to orient himself, as they were always visible as a darkness in the sky, and set off. It was terrifying, and he was constantly scared of slipping, but fuck, it was fun! The cold wind kissed his cheeks each time he leapt and he barely stopped himself from shouting with joy; he just felt so free!
Is it dangerous to run across a tree branch very high up in the air? Yes.
Is it even more dangerous to try to avoid venomous snakes, millipedes, Saprophil bugs and disease-ridden ticks, rodents, and leeches, littering the forest floor? Also yes.
This high up in the canopy, all he had to worry about were large pterosaurs, gangs of monkeys, and tripping over the occasional sloth. Luckily, his [Falcon Sight] helped him look out for threats before he ran into them, and he trusted in his [Sense Hostility] to detect when an eagle or pterodactyl locked onto him from above, and hid.
It took constant and intense concentration to avoid any mistakes, but he was making good time. Twenty minutes of acrobatic travel, five minutes of rest as he plotted his next route through the twisty-twirly canopy, then he would be off again. His heavily packed bag made it slightly more difficult to keep his balance, but he was strong enough to hardly notice its weight. At least, he barely noticed it for the first hour, then it became a real bitch as the straps chafed his shoulders, neck, and upper back. It didn't help that he was soaked to the bone, making him likewise chafe between his legs.
Another problem he was facing was piles of leaves along some branches, because things tended to hide in them. Once, he accidentally stepped on a camouflaged sloth and fell nearly ten feet! Only catching himself when his chest impacted with a branch and his arms found purchase on a thick branch.
This high up in the trees, the branches he walked on were nearly six feet wide. The landing knocked his wind out, but Gareth felt a worse sort of pain…guilt.
He saw the sloth lose its camouflage as it looked around, frightened, and frantically crawled away. Its cute little beady black eyes were wide with fright as it scrambled higher into the tree. There was nothing he could do to help it, because trying to capture it would scare it even further. It might even get to the point where it hurts itself by accident if Gareth tried to help it. He watched it climb for a bit before its camouflage re-established itself, and it didn't look injured, at least. Hopefully, he didn't hurt it too much when he stepped on it. He hoped the little guy would be alright.
Wild animals were extinct on Terra, but street dogs were a common enough thing in the slums that he knew he loved animals. He'd even owned a cat once, briefly, before his dad had sold it to the butcher for booze money, while he was at work. He really wanted a pet, but wasn't in the right place in his life to look after one. Heck, look at where I am! How the hell am I going to look after a dog while galivanting in the jungle? One day, though...
With due vigilance, he travelled slowly, yet safely, through the wilds around Volun. While the beasts here were prevalent, the Volun military regularly sent patrols to cull beast nests that became too dangerous. While they couldn't kill every poisonous snake or chase away each man-sized spider, they kept the larger predators at bay around Volun.
He eventually heard the crystalline river and made his way toward it.
Now, were there carriages from the city that went directly to Vormire? Yes.
Did Oliver and Guanji both inform him, in no uncertain terms, that he would be walking and taking the old road to Vormire? Also yes. So, for the next few days, he followed the overgrown dirt path. When he needed to rest, he would use the tent as a hammock and sleep. Though it made his adrenaline spike each time he heard roars and rustles outside his small hammock.
At least it kept him dry, but he slept fitfully and lightly.
