Cain and Jack continued their trek through the forest, but before they’d gone another one hundred metres, they rode into another ambush of six goblins. They came in a pack, howling, bounding through the trees, swinging cleavers, crude clubs, and axes.

  Cain’s horse whinnied and tried to bolt; he held it steady.

  Jack’s horse reared and almost threw him off. He steadied his horse and pulled his bow. He loosed a quick arrow into a fast-approaching goblin; the arrow sank into its chest. It still kept coming.

  Cain was already in motion with his sword flashing like silver fire. He killed one goblin, taking its head with the backswing of his sword.

  I can’t handle multiple goblins, Jack thought while activating a [Chronos Sphere] scroll. The world slowed as he jumped from his slow-moving horse and ran towards a goblin that was lunging at his ride. He planted his dagger through its throat, and its warm blood oozed down his arm. As his palm itched, he twisted the dagger; he felt the blade scrape on vertebrae before dragging the weapon free. More power and another skill.

  Jack pushed the goblin away and turned. Another goblin was swinging a club down in slow motion at where he’d been. Ducking under the crude club, he stabbed up, the blade piercing through the jaw and into the creature’s brain. His palm itched as he twisted, and time snapped back as more blood spilt. More power… another pseudo skill from a goblin.

  Cain crushed another attacker’s knee, then kicked it off the path into a gulch. The creature’s scream ended in a distant crack.

  The final two goblins turned to flee. Jack loosed one last arrow, and the shot hit a goblin in the thigh. It limped away. The last one got away unharmed.

  Both men stood panting with minor wounds, but nothing too deep.

  Jack leaned on his knees. “That’s what, twelve we’ve killed now?”

  “I stopped counting at five.” Cain wiped sweat and gore off his face.

  The hunting dogs could still be heard in the background; they were drawing closer due to the goblin attacks delaying them. The pair paused only to heal what they could.

  Jack’s mana reserves were running low. He had maybe five healing spells left in him… If he was lucky.

  He checked his two new pseudo skills.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  [Class Screen-Internal View]

  Class: Novice Blood Mage (0)

  Compatibility: 84%

  …

  -- Pseudo Goblin: Night Vision (0)

  -- Pseudo Goblin: Feign Death (0)

  -- Pseudo Goblin: Iron Gut (0)

  -- Pseudo Goblin: Scramble Reflex (0)

  -- Pseudo Goblin: Haemorrhage (0)

  -- Pseudo Goblin: Quick Stab (0)

  Jack focused on the Haemorrhage skill. “I got a skill called Haemorrhage, my claw and bite attacks release something that speeds up bleeding.” He looked at his fingernails. “I just have to grow some claws first.”

  “And sharper teeth,” Cain added.

  They chuckled as they kept moving.

  Next, he focused on Quick Stab. “Hmm… this one’s useful. Quick Stab, when aiming for joints, my strikes with a blade will be faster.”

  “Where do I sign up to be a blood mage?” Cain asked with a big grin.

  Jack smiled. “I’m sure the dozen-plus blood mages chasing us will be able to answer your query.”

  They laughed as they kept riding, the banter helping them get through the exhaustion of the chase.

  ***

  Dawn crept across the sky like spilt ink fading to grey. They reached a narrow valley where mist curled low across the ground and the trees thinned; rocks replaced roots as the forest fell away to shale and stone.

  Half an hour later, a wide river came into view. It tore through the valley like a blade, jagged black rocks jutting through the foam. The sound was deafening, the raging water sped by, furious and uncrossable.

  Jack took one look and shook his head. “No way.”

  Cain dismounted, sweat running down his face. “Back along the edge,” he shouted over the roar. “We follow it west.”

  They rode along a crumbling path; the horses slipped and stumbled. After ten minutes, the river forced them up into a series of steep switchbacks at the foot of a towering rock face.

  Cain’s horse slipped on a loose stone. He caught its mane, steadying it.

  Then they heard it, the horns again. Louder with the accompaniment of barking dogs and hooves striking stone.

  “They’re here,” Jack said, turning.

  Down in the mist, blue cloaks moved like ghosts and silver blades glinted in the light.

  Cain looked to the cliff. “We climb. Ditch the horses.”

  Jack looked to the river. “Or jump in and hope we don’t get shredded on the rocks.”

  Cain didn’t respond. The river was suicidal.

  Jack considered the options. None was good.

  They both looked at the horses. They were trembling, exhausted, and almost done. They looked at the ridge. Way too high to climb… they weren’t mountain goats.

  Jack’s hand found the hilt of his dagger, and he felt comfort from the rough grip. He met Cain’s eyes. “If we fight, we might kill a few before they get us.”

  Cain nodded. “Better to die on our feet like men. It’s been an honour fighting with you, Jack the scribe.” He patted him on the shoulder.

  Jack grunted at the shoulder pat. “Likewise, Cain. You’re a good man.” He drew his dagger.

  Cain unsheathed his sword, the blade gleaming in the morning light.

  The first of the hounds broke through the mist.

  Jack’s jaw clenched, his hand drifting to the scrolls tucked into his breast pocket. He still had two [Frost Breath] and two [Fireball] scrolls. In his other pockets, he had four [Chronos Sphere] spell scrolls, smoke bombs, and blinding powders. He also had his new pseudo skills, his bow, and his dagger.

  And at his side… a trusted ally who was pissed off.

  The horn blew again.

  Cain spoke, his voice low and steady. “We make a stand. We kill as many of the bastards as we can. Send the fuckers to Tartarus.”