Path of Dragons

“Can I help you, friend?” asked the man leaning against the door frame in the back of the shop. He was tall, though not nearly as tall as Thor, with a slender waist and wide shoulders. It was the build of a Warrior, yet Thor suspected that the man was no true fighter. However, there was a sense of menace about him that made Thor hesitate to force anything.

“I seek a Druid,” Thor stated.

“I’m an arm’s dealer, not a rumormonger,” he stated. “You want weapons? I’m your man. I even a few pieces of decent armor. Our adventuring team recently completed a run of the tower, so –”

“I don’t need your trinkets.”

“Ah, see – that’s where you’re wrong, friend. Everyone can use a solid weapon. Sure, you’ve got that spear. Nice weapon. Probably suits you quite well. But everyone can use a backup, right? And a big fellow like you? With those arms? You seem like an axe-man,” the merchant said. “I can –”

“Enough of your babble!” Thor growled, his fingers tightening on the haft of his spear. “Tell me about the Druid.”

“You should watch your tone, friend,” the arms dealer said, his demeanor shifting. “You’re number three on the list, but how do you think you’d fare against an entire city? We only have one person on the power rankings, but I can tell you right now – you cause trouble in Argos, and you’ll not leave here alive.”

At that moment, Thor sensed something strange. A weakness he couldn’t explain.

“What did you do?” he demanded, stepping forward. His legs wobbled, and as a result, he nearly stumbled. “Who are you?”

“Name’s Atticus, friend,” the merchant said, stepping forward. There was no kindness in his voice. “And in here, I’m basically a god. Zeus himself could walk in here, and he would tremble at my wrath.”

“You’re only level thirty…”

“You don’t deal with many merchants, do you?” asked Atticus, approaching a glass case containing a golden short sword. His hand passed right through the glass pane, and he withdrew the weapon with nonchalance bordering on dismissiveness. Then, he pointed the weapon at Thor. “Now, are you going to be a good boy while in my town? Or am I going to have to show you why nobody messes with a merchant in his own shop? Your choice, big guy.”

Thor wanted nothing more than to put the man in his place. Yet, he knew better than to fight a battle he didn’t understand. That was underscored when his mind flicked to his status:

Name	Thor Gunderson
Level	67
Archetype	Ranger
Class	Ancestral Hunter
Specialization	N/A
Alignment	N/A
Strength	10 (128)
Dexterity	10 (142)
Constitution	10 (101)
Ethera	10 (42)
Regeneration	10 (72)
Attunement	Conflict
Cultivation Stage: N/A
Body	Core	Mind	Soul
Wood	N/A	N/A Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.	N/A

“What did you do?” Thor spat, steadying himself by grabbing hold of a nearby rack. The weapons upon it clattered to the shop’s floor, but he paid no attention to it. Instead, he was too focused on the insidious weakness pervading his normally reliable body. He hadn’t been so feeble even before the world’s transformation.

“Evened the odds. Now, are you going to make me kill you? I’d prefer if we parted friends, but that ship seems as if it’s sailed. Perhaps it never even left port.”

“Fix it!” Thor yelled, even his voice sounding pitiful in his ears.

“Not going to happen,” Atticus said, stepping close. “Since it doesn’t seem like you’re going to buy anything, then I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Now.”

Thor started to respond, but Atticus wasn’t having it. Instead, his hand shot out, clamping around Thor’s thick neck. It happened so quickly that Thor couldn’t hope to respond, and before he knew it, he couldn’t breathe. Panic – hot and terrifying – tore through his mind as, for the first time since the apocalypse, he truly found himself outmatched.

He gripped Atticus’ wrist, but it did no good. His eyes bulged as he fought for breath, but the merchant paid no mind to his victim’s struggles. Fortunately, he didn’t intend to kill Thor. Instead, he just pushed him through the door and shoved him hard enough that Thor stumbled into the street.

A second later, his power returned to full strength. Before he knew what he was doing, he’d leaped to his feet and let out a roar as he threw his spear as hard as he could. It clanged off a solid sheet of ethera covering the doorway, then fell to the ground. Thor gaped in surprise.

Meanwhile, Atticus bent down and grabbed the bone-hafted spear.

“Bound, huh? Shame. It’s a nice weapon,” he said. Then, he turned his attention to Thor. “I’ll make you a deal, friend.”

“I don’t make deals with weaklings! You will –”

“Come in here and call me a weakling.”

Thor seethed. But as furious as he was, he could read the writing on the wall as well as anyone. The merchant had used some sort of spell on his shop, and the effect was that, so long as he remained inside, he was unassailable.

So, he knew better than to walk into that. Of course, there were hundreds of ways to get around that. He could wait for the merchant to leave. Or he could burn the building down. Maybe Atticus had friends or family somewhere nearby.

If the cooldown for Ancestral Hunt hadn’t been up, he might’ve used them. But with the ability available, he saw no reason to challenge the man.

He didn’t acknowledge that his fear, born of the previous encounter and that feeling of feebleness, probably played an even bigger role in his decision-making. But that reality remained nestled in the back of his mind, reminding him of how easily all of his power could be snatched away.

Atticus said, “I’ll give your little toy back. In return, you leave. No looking back. No campaign of vengeance. Just go away.”

“And if I refuse? What if I tear this town down around you?”

“You might find that a little more difficult than you expect,” Atticus said.

Suddenly, Thor realized there were people all around him. Some, like the tall, muscular girl with a spear, looked like they could handle themselves. Others, like a matronly woman carrying a spatula, of all things, were clearly weak. However, there was one that drew Thor’s Hunter’s Eye:

Name: Isaak Anthopoulos Archetype: Sorcerer Level: 51

He certainly didn’t look very powerful. In fact, Isaak Anthopoulos was little more than a child, skinny and awkward. He wore a pair of round-rimmed spectacles, an affectation that sold his feeble appearance. Yet, at level fifty-one, he was in the middle of the top one-hundred, which meant he was an opponent who shouldn’t be underestimated.

Thor could defeat the boy. He was certain of that. But not with dozens of other people around. He also preferred to fight his battles with the advantage of surprise on his side. So, even though his mind roiled in anger and indignation, Thor knew better than to rise to the arms dealer’s taunt.

But he wanted to.

Desperately.

However, he hadn’t climbed the ladder by being stupid or impulsive. He knew when to pull back. And he was well aware that there were battles that couldn’t be won. Or that weren’t worth the cost of victory.

So, he spat, “Deal.”

“Good choice, friend,” Atticus said, casually tossing the spear to Thor.

Even as Thor caught it, he became aware of a cat suddenly appearing at his feet. The creature was the size of a mountain lion, though it was clearly a housecat. More importantly, when he used Hunter’s Eye, he found that the thing was the highest level he’d seen in the city.

That confirmed his decision, and with every eye on him, he quickly retreated from the town. The cat followed him all the way to the gate, but it didn’t pursue any further. Only when he was out of sight of the guards, he finally let his anger out. He shouted, thrusting his spear into a nearby tree. It splintered beneath the blow, and a second later, the tree tipped over and, with a thud, fell.

Breathing hard – from fury, rather than exertion – he considered going back to the city and killing everyone there. He could do it. Especially since they wouldn’t be expecting him. But he had to remind himself that the costs of doing so far outweighed any benefits he might gain.

Except for banishing the shame of being run off, of being made to feel like a weakling. If it hadn’t been for Isaak Anthopoulos or the cat, he would have done it, too. He’d done more for less disrespect. Yet, those two filled him with wariness. He didn’t acknowledge it as fear, but there was a thin line between the two.

Whatever the case, Thor took a few moments to calm himself before using Ancestral Tracking. Soon enough, the ephemeral and mostly formless spirit appeared. It immediately filled the air with a cackle.

“So fearful!” it laughed. “So pitiful!”

“Enough!” Thor growled, gesturing with his spear. “Lead me to my quarry.”

“Oh, very well.”

Then, the thing spun around before erupting into a hundred threads of ethera. They disappeared, one by one, until they pointed off to the north. As soon as the disrespectful spirit disappeared, he set off in that direction. As he did, he soothed his ego by reminding himself that his choice to leave Argos was rooted in practicality. Killing those people would have done nothing for him. Instead, he had a goal. A prey. And he refused to be distracted from that purpose.

It was discipline that drove him.

Not fear.

An hour later, he found himself in an idyllic glade, in the center of which was the strangest monument Thor had ever seen. In some ways, it reminded him of Stonehenge, yet the stones were unweathered and bore fanciful designs that further inspection told him were supposed to be dragons. More, there was a young tree in the center.

The moment he’d stepped into the glade, Thor felt the power of the place. Yet, when he looked closer, he couldn’t pinpoint the origin. More, when he experimentally thrust his spear at one of the massive stones, he was surprised to find that it was protected by some sort of ethereal shield resting only an inch above the surface of the stones. The same was true of the tree, which he tried to cut down because he suspected it was a natural treasure.

Once again frustrated, Thor tried to take it out on the monument, and to no effect. He used every ability at his disposal, and though he quickly ran himself out of ethera, the circle of stones and tree remained completely unmarked.

A few hours later, after he’d calmed himself, he followed some tracks to a nearby range of foothills where he quickly found where the stones had originated. But his prey remained at large. So, he returned to the circle, where he tried to think of how to proceed. However, the fact was that he had no leads. No trail to follow. He was stuck.

Which meant that he had little choice but to wait until Ancestral Hunt came off cooldown. In the meantime, he occupied himself by hunting the local wildlife. It was unsatisfying and without challenge, but at least it allowed him to exorcise his frustrations. Soon enough, though, Thor’s ability became available, and it pointed him to the south.

The moment he knew which way to go, he set off across the wilderness, eventually reaching a wide ravine, which he followed south to what appeared to be an endless swamp. There, Thor hesitated for a few minutes, wondering if there was another way. Yet, the thread of ethera was clear, and it directly into the mire.

So, after taking a deep breath, Thor waded into the murky water. Immediately, he felt something latch onto his leg, and when he reached down to inspect the wound, he grabbed something thick and slimy. He yanked it free, and when he pulled it out of the water, he saw that it was a monstrous and disgusting leech.

It was at that moment that he questioned his course. But the memory of what had happened in Argos still haunted him. The only way to prevent a reoccurrence was to get so strong that no one else could even hope to stand up to him. Next to that resolve, a few leeches was nothing more than an annoyance.

So, he pressed on, looking forward to the day when he could take his frustrations out on the Druid.

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