Skyborne Raider

She raises her gaze. “We should try to burn it!”

“Heh.” I smirk, letting out a small breath through my nose.

“Well, when was the last time you made a fire without a lighter?” Mike asks skeptically, raising an eyebrow. The creature wobbles and gurgles on the ground.

“Upside-down room at the castle? There were candles, maybe they’re still lit. Or we could make it the old-fashioned way,” she suggests.

“I’m not sure if we should waste time fiddling with sticks, only to probably fail. But on the other hand, I can’t believe it—we have to go through that damn path again, avoiding that asshole, and pass the shack all the way up.” I sigh in disbelief.

“Okay, then pin him down more and leave it there,” she says with a shrug.

“I’m not leaving here without my sabre.” Mike frowns.

“Ugh. Good thing you mentioned that. I almost forgot.”

“What?” he asks.

I open my inventory and quickly pull out the sabre miniature. It’s Mike’s almost brand-new sabre, in the same condition it was when we left the shack.

“No way! How did you…?” He cracks a wide smile, excitement sparking in his eyes.

“Apparently, when we die, not only does our corpse stay, but so do our belongings outside the inventory,” I explain.

“Not that it’s an efficient way to duplicate stuff, but at least it works,” I chuckle.

“I know I’m getting ahead of myself again, but… what’s the point if we can’t extract anything from these?” Mike is nodding as I talk.

“I mean, look. If this works and there are tons of them hanging like salamis in some Hungarian basement, we can pin them down one by one and turn them to charcoal. What’s your excuse?”

“There is none! Let’s go, before it’s dark.” Mike is fired up, his eyes fixed not on the swirling creature but on his second curved sword, salivating over the idea of dual-wielding sabres.

The body is very dry. It seems like it's just waiting to be set on fire.

I stomp on Jonathan’s head and extract the broken arrow. It’s still repairable; only the feathered tip broke off. The head isn’t going anywhere on its own. It’s quite horrifying to handle, watching its empty eyes move around and its mouth open. I gulp and shudder with sudden unease.

Mike holds the moving torso with his second sabre and stands on the neck. He pulls some arrows out but leaves the one that pins the body down the best. “Here, hide these quickly, and let’s move.” He hands them to Astrid.

We’re back on the path to the upside-down castle ruin, moving past the hole we came through to this world.

“Did we just completely forget our original plan? What if we can get back?” Astrid asks.

Mike offers his hand to her, and we jump inside all at once.

Nothing happens.

“As expected,” Mike notes. Astrid sighs.

As I climb up, I relive the moment I first climbed out at night. The thought of my mom being all alone, probably already on pills and broken, still not knowing she lost her only child, tears me apart inside.

All things considered, if time works normally, maybe it doesn’t. And if I ever return, it could be the same day. I convince myself it’s like that. I sniffle and wipe away a tear.

“Before we rush into the castle, Mike, Astrid, would you like to level up a bit and hunt for our dinner?” I suggest a group fight for selfish reasons—I need to unwind and stop thinking about what might be happening at home. When I fight alone, my mind wanders.

Mike looks up at the sky thoughtfully. “I could prepare a good dinner from those nutrias if we have fire, of course. They looked fat and bulky.”

“Yes, exactly,” I confirm.

“Good, Mikey. You owe us this,” says the pale red-headed girl while counting her arrows.

Cropfield Nutrias, mix of level 3 and 4

Arriving back at the field, we start to comb through it, keeping an eye on the shiny helmet. Astrid practices her shooting on moving targets. I break their skulls with my shining hammer, and Mike tests his thrust attacks, making them bleed out. They’re a bit larger than before, yet we’re upgraded too. Mike moves more swiftly, and Astrid’s reload speed and aim have improved.

Not sure if it’s due to leveling our stats or classic training, but it’s satisfying. We hunt and slaughter those beasts with a methodical precision.

I breathe heavily, my sleeves stained with blood. Whistling in my chest, my right arm is pumped up, veins bulging, and my forearm strained. Hungry for power, hungry for fatty meat.

“So, in total, we killed nine of them. Three each,” I summarize.

“Everyone leveled up, right?” Mike adds.

“Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m going with endurance this time,” I announce, though I’m not sure why. My knee still hurts from nutria, monkey, and turtle bites. Rounding up my level feels great, even if it’s just a small achievement.

Markus Hale foreigner level 10

Strength 12 no skill

Agility 3 no skill

Willpower 4 no skill

Endurance 4 no skill

Astrid mentions willpower again but opts for endurance since the old bow is still straining her fingers.

“No, no… this can’t be placebo anymore. My skin is thicker; I can feel it,” she mutters under her breath.

Mike doesn’t disclose his choice. I wonder what he’s leveling up. His bicep twitches a bit, just like mine did when I invested everything in strength. Is he trying to catch up with me?

No, of course not. What do you think of yourself, dummy? He probably just wants to make deeper cuts.

“Mark? You with us?” Mike asks, raising an eyebrow.

Shit, I must’ve zoned out, overthinking again.

“I’m a man of my word,” says Mike ceremoniously as he buries his blade in the animal.

“Don’t watch if you can’t, Astrid,” he adds. She moves away from the wind’s direction to avoid the stench of intestines.

“We won’t bother you. We’ve done the route twice, so we can do it again. We make a good team sneaking past the knight, right, Mark?” Astrid asks cheerfully, chuckling.

I keep a poker face, not reacting with any emotion, while watching Mike’s reaction. This is a situation he won’t like. Despite having zero experience in relationships myself, I can sense a bit of jealousy from him, ever since the beginning.

“I’ll finish this up. Go and bring the fire. Quickly,” he suggests, avoiding eye contact.

I nod, even though he’s not looking.

“Tighten your laces. Tripping over could be fatal,” I warn her again.

“Of course,” she replies, meeting my gaze.

We make it past the knight without any complications—fast and precisely timed. After a bit of galloping up the rocky road, we’re finally here.

“Finally, the peculiar hall,” I say.

“If the fire is still there, we’ll need a long pole to retrieve it,” I suggest.

Astrid steps into the bushes on the side of the rocky road and searches for some long, narrow sticks.

“I’ll tie them with shoelaces. Give me yours too.”

Impressed by her idea, I hand them over. In front of the castle entrance, I decide to make a small fireplace next to the stairs, using a few sticks, dry leaves, and some stones to prevent the fire from spreading easily.

She finishes her pole just in time and sticks dry weeds on top of it.

“You have stronger arms, Markus. Here,” she says, handing me the pole.

Inside, the hall remains unchanged. Two large candlesticks are still burning on the ceiling in the corners of the room.

“You know what? What if these are like the fire bowl—unable to burn?” I joke, half-laughing and smirking in disbelief.

“Don’t even mention it, or you’ll jinx it.”

Carefully raising the pole, I touch the fire, hoping for the best.

Whoosh

The leaves and fuzz catch fire instantly.

“Yay!” She claps.

The burning pole sheds more light on the table and its contents.

“What’s that roll over there in the silver pitcher?” she asks, pointing her finger.