Walking just a pace behind Sigurd, far more energized after a large meal and night’s rest, Vel listened as the hunter essentially word-vomited an entire wilderness survival guide. She honestly wasn’t sure how much of it she would retain, but she got the important parts━how to find fresh water and how to skin a chicken, though she sort of had a visual crash course the night before.

  Honestly, Sigurd just kept going on and on!

  “What about soap?” Vel interjected.

  “Soap?” Sigurd asked. “You could purchase it.”

  “How do I make it?”

  “I don’t know? With ashes?”

  “Ashes? No, no, we cannot cleanse ourselves with ashes, right?”

  “I’m pretty sure soap is made with ashes and oil,” Sigurd noted. “I don’t know the process. Besides, soap isn’t going to help you survive.”

  “Have you smelled me? Looked at me? My hair is a mess.”

  “Learn to tie it.”

  “Do you have a hair tie?”

  Sigurd gave her an unamused expression. “Really?” he asked. His hair was receding, Vel supposed. He probably wouldn’t be the best to ask about it. But then he sighed, and produced a leather cord. Pulling out his dagger, he cut it, then offered a small piece to Vel.

  With a smile, Vel said, “Thank you,” promptly starting to braid her hair back.

  “Once you’re done with that, we should see if you can gain anymore of my skills, and it wouldn’t be a bad idea for me to take you through a combat lesson. Honestly a miracle you managed to make it this far.”

  “I killed four chickens,” Vel said triumphantly, rather pleased with herself.

  “They’re dumb. Easy to kill.”

  That was offensive! Vel’s wounds agreed with her. “For someone with no training or prior skills, I think I did quite well.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Done,” Velmira said, tying off her lavender hair.

  “Great,” Sigurd said, stopping. He set his sack down, and turned to Vel, who put her precious waterskin next to his sack━she did not want to risk it. “I have five skills. [Unarmed punch], [bow proficiency], [dagger slash], [dagger stab], and [dagger throw]. Most people you come across are only going to have three to ten skills. In Rare cases, some people have been known to have up to 25 skills.”

  “How do other classes get skills?” Vel asked.

  “Usually certain thresholds have to be reached, but once they are, it unlocks selectable skills, often with a limit to how many skills may be selected. It is possible to trade in skills too, but you’d have to sacrifice the stat bonus and start leveling the traded in skill all over again,” Sigurd explained.

  “Like an age threshold?”

  “You have to be twelve years old to select a class,” Sigurd nodded, unsheathing a small dagger. He flipped it in his hands a few times. “The most common threshold is proficiency. Another is a level threshold, and finally a prior skill requirement in some cases.” In one fluid motion, the hunter raised his dagger and flung it at her.

  Velmira flinched, then hissed when she felt a sting against her left shoulder. She reached a hand up to the superficial wound not only to hold it, but to also block the sight. She’d seen enough of her blood for an entire year!

  [Skill gained: Dagger Throw]

  [0.5 Dexterity added]

  “Couldn’t give me a warning?” she asked, frowning.

  “Would it count if I did?” Sigurd asked.

  “Considering that you cut me, probably. You really don’t hold back, do you?”

  “No, I don’t,” Sigurd said, and Vel stepped back when he pulled out a second dagger. “I’m going to slash at you this time.”

  The tall hunter darted towards Vel, and she jumped away as he sliced at her. He twisted the dagger in his hand, the sharp end of the blade closing in on her face. With a gasp, she pulled her hands up to block, and stumbled back. Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest when it did no good against Sigurd’s strength, the blade closing in, then stopping short when it just barely nicked her forehead.

  [Skill gained: Dagger Stab]

  [0.5 Dexterity added]

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  Sigurd pulled back. “You had the right idea, trying to block, but you’re not strong enough yet,” he said. “Until you can build up your strength or gain a big enough stat bonus, you can’t contend with a man of my size.”

  Vel nodded, feeling her heart crawl back to its proper place. “Can we try maybe something nicer? Like, not freaking me out to gain skills?” she asked.

  “That depends, are you wronged if it’s something you’re asking for?” Sigurd asked. “And does gaining a skill actually require my hurting you?”

  “I don’t know, but I’d rather test it before you come at me again.”

  After releasing a sigh, Sigurd grabbed at Vel’s arm, and nicked it.

  Nothing.

  The frown on Vel’s face must have said it all, because Sigurd shoved her back, then pulled a second dagger and swiped at her. With a yelp, Vel slapped his arm aside, the hunter giving her a cheeky smile. “You’re learning,” he said. “Good, use my weight and momentum against me.”

  [Skill gained: Dagger Slash]

  [0.5 Dexterity added]

  “That worked,” Vel said, the hunter just barely pulling back with his second dagger.

  “So a skill doesn’t have to make contact then?” he asked.

  “Well, maybe? It didn’t work the first time you slashed at me,” Vel said. “Purple Fairy, how does [boon of vengeance] function? What counts as being wronged?”

  “Purple fairy?” Sigurd raised an eyebrow.

  “The fairy that tells me how all of this [Dark Avenger] stuff works,” Vel said.

  “Maldwyn, its called Maldwyn.”

  “Why?”

  “I . . . don’t actually know.”

  “So, Maldwyn, the Purple Fairy. Help?” Vel asked.

  [Boon of Vengeance: Whenever wronged, gain 1 skill used from the act of the wrongdoing]

  “That wasn’t very helpful,” she said.

  “Maldwyn has limitations. We’ll worry about the specifics another time, you need more pointers if you’re going to make it against any more dire monsters, or people for Retribution’s sake.”

  Sigurd moved to the dagger he threw earlier, and picked it up. Compared to the other ones he was holding, this one was quite a bit smaller, and fit rather comfortably in Vel’s hand when he gave it to her.

  “This weapon won’t hold up against a sword, it’s not big enough for that. If someone comes at you with a sword, my first piece of advice would be to run. If that’s not an option, you need to disable your opponent. Don’t get hyperfixated on the kill, just━”

  “Kill?” Vel asked, gulping.

  “Considering you were the [sacrifice], you’re likely to run into kill or be killed situations.”

  I suppose that’s fair, she thought, staring up at the hunter. Yet, the idea of taking another’s life sent chills through Vel’s bones. A problem for another time, she decided, giving Sigurd a nod, though he’d already been talking about how she could use the dagger to disable a man. Throwing, primarily, aiming for sword arms, the legs, or in instances someone wasn’t wearing armor, he pointed out a few fatal blows.

  “I’m weaponless once I throw this. What then?” she asked.

  “Then you run. Hopefully the throw itself is a good enough distraction.”

  “I’m starting to think you don’t have any faith that I’d survive a fight against another person.”

  “I don’t. Not right now, at least.” Sigurd grabbed the sheathe for her little dagger, and handed it to her. “But with practice and use of your skills, you might be able to win a fight. As we walk, practice throwing the dagger. Pick a knot, a low branch, or a spot on trees, and aim for that. I’ll think of other things to level [dagger slash] and [dagger stab].”

  “What about [unarmed punch]?”

  “Yeah, maybe I should teach you how to not break your thumb before you go punching things,” Sigurd said, then held out his fist. “This is the shape you want,” he said. “Never tuck your thumb here or here. When you thrust,” he demonstrated, then pointed towards his knuckles.

  When he opened his mouth, Vel holding her own fist now, she looked from her hand to his jaw. She threw it, Sigurd’s eyes growing wide when her fist made contact. Payback felt sweet for all of a second, then she shook her hand out. “Ow, ow, ow,” she whined. “Is your jaw made of steel, or something?”

  At first, the hunter looked entirely unamused, but then the slightest smile slowly formed across his lips. “No, you just have weak priestess hands,” he said. “But that wasn’t a bad punch.”

  “Want another?”

  “Can you stand another?”

  “I have a second hand.”

  Sigurd gave an amused snort, then shook his head. He moved to pick up his pack. “Come on, we should move along.”

  Vel grabbed her waterskin, putting it over her shoulder, then attached the dagger to the strap, given that she didn’t exactly have a belt to put it on. Pulling the dagger free, she spied a tree that laid ahead of them. The moment she lifted it, Sigurd jumped over, taking a hold of her hand, looking nervous.

  “Maybe,” he started, “You should walk beside me instead of behind me while throwing sharp objects.”

  “I guess I could do that,” Velmira nodded, and walked beside the hunter, throwing her dagger over and over and over again. Her arm was quickly growing tired, and after a while, her new mentor had her switching arms. Using her left arm felt significantly more awkward, given that it wasn’t her dominant one, and she missed her targets half the time, enough that he told her to aim for sticks or stones on the ground not far in front of them.

  [Dagger Throw level 30]

  “You’re finally starting to hit your targets better,” Sigurd complimented, Vel ripping the dagger free from a particularly large log that Sigurd had already climbed over. With a grunt, she climbed up, then jumped, getting [feather fall] in before landing on the other side.

  “Thank you, Sigurd,” Vel said.

  “Think you can catch us dinner?” he asked.

  “Maybe if it’s more of those . . . what did you call them?”

  “Dire chickens?”

  “Why dire?”

  Sigurd sighed. “You were unbelievably sheltered,” he said, then explained, “Dire is merely a way to describe the level of an animal. Animals, like us, have skills and levels, maybe even classes. It’s common to see animals in packs or flocks level at the same rate as well.

  “There are four levels, usually denoted by a special feature: Dire, shade, blood, and malevolent. Dires often have fire capabilities, and usually a higher constitution stat. Shades are known for their unusually dark colors, usually bearing shadow skills. Bloods are crimson in color, and have unique magic skills. Malevolents are massive. Never face a malevolent. Ever.”

  How about we just, not? Vel thought, having no desire to face any of those things. Though, she had this feeling that she wasn’t going to get the choice. Granted, she did just fine━okay━she managed to survive dire chickens.

  “There.”

  Vel followed Sigurd’s finger upward, seeing a pair of massive hornets flying through the branches, far too big to be normal.

  “Oh, no, no, no,” she shook her head. “You said animals. You didn’t say anything about bugs!”

  “You’ll be fine,” Sigurd said. “It’s tasty.”

  “Tasty?!”

  “Practically a delicacy.”

  Ick.

  “If something goes wrong, I’ll be right here to help.”

  Velmira paled.

  “Just don’t get stung.”

  “Stung?” she asked, slowly creeping in the direction of the hornets.