The trees began to thin out as James marched deeper east, the spear balanced over one shoulder. Leaves crunched underfoot, damp with dew and something stickier he didn't want to investigate.
Behind him, Nysilus floated sideways, hands behind his head like he was lying on a hammock made of smug.
The forest had changed — thicker now. The air was tighter, damp with the scent of moss and something feral.
James didn't turn around when he spoke. "You keep talking about this contract. About me being 'Spearbound.' What exactly is that? What's my role in all this?"
Nysilus floated upside down, spinning in lazy circles. "Hurry up already. It'll be night before you encounter your first beast. You'll never grow at this rate."
James narrowed his eyes. "What does that mean?"
Nysilus zipped forward, hovering in front of his face again — eyes sharp, amused.
"Everything in this world grows. The animals. The people. The trees. The stones. Even the gods, if you believe the right stories."
His voice dropped to a near whisper.
"If you don't learn to grow with it — you'll die with it."
James didn't blink. "And what exactly am I supposed to grow into?"
"That depends how fast you learn. And how slow you bleed."
Nysilus turned a slow somersault in the air. "Everyone here climbs. Up. Over. Through. Some do it with grace. Some with gore."
He smirked. "Right now? You're weak. Naked. Angry. Stupid. Delicious."
James twirled the spear in his grip. "You forgot 'armed.'"
"That twig you're holding?" Nysilus burst out laughing. "It's only a weapon if you survive long enough to use it."
James stared straight ahead. "So what is being a Spearbound supposed to mean?"
Nysilus rolled his eyes. "You really are a persistent one. Most of you idiots are too stunned to form questions." He floated higher. "Let's just say your 'role' is to fulfill a certain cosmic obligation. The voice gave you power. I'm the babysitter. You're the tool."
James frowned. "Tool for what?"
"Now see," Nysilus wagged a finger, "that's a lore dump I'm not giving out while you're still shivering and shoeless. Clothes. Shelter. Food. Survival first. Answers later."
James groaned.
And then—
A low growl echoed from the trees ahead.
He stopped walking.
Nysilus smiled wider.
"Speaking of survival…"
Here's your text with only bold for impact on key moments:
A rustle stopped them both.
Then another.
Ten feet ahead, the brush parted. A shape moved low to the ground — thick shoulders, pale fur streaked with soot. It was the size of a bear, with too many eyes, and a red glow beating like a second heart beneath its chest.
James swallowed.
"That's low-level?"
"Relatively," Nysilus said. "In the way a punch to the throat is relatively survivable."
Then it charged.
James raised the spear just in time — and was flung like a paper doll. His back hit a tree. Pain burst down his spine.The spear skidded across the dirt.
The beast stalked toward him. Silent. Smiling — somehow.
James gritted his teeth and lunged for the weapon. The beast struck again, and this time it caught his side — a tusk tore through skin. Hot blood poured as James screamed and rolled beneath its bulk.
"Skills," he gasped.
"You said I had skills."
"You do!" Nysilus called.
"Try Sprint before it eats your kidneys!"
James focused.
The world snapped into a blur — trees smeared past him as his body surged forward, faster than instinct could follow. He skidded behind a fallen log. The boar-beast roared and charged again, gouging bark from the trunk beside him.
"Better," Nysilus called, lounging above it all.
"Now maybe fight back?"
James darted left — then cut right, and drove the spear into the beast's side.
The tip cracked. Sparks flew. Blood hissed across the grass, thick and black. The creature shrieked — a horrible, ragged sound.
Then it rammed him with full force.
James flew. Something cracked in his chest. He tumbled, hit a rock, and screamed. A flap of skin was missing from his hip. The world swam.
He coughed and dragged himself behind a mossy ridge, panting.
"You gonna keep watching?" he growled.
Nysilus sipped something invisible.
"Use your environment, genius."
James squinted through blood. Up the ridge. A tree. Overhanging. Sloped ground. A plan.
He limped up the incline. The beast followed — relentless, driven by that throbbing red glow. James climbed halfway into the tree, bracing with one trembling hand.
"Come on," he muttered.
"Just a little closer—"
The beast charged under him.
James fell.
The spear led. His weight followed.
The tip pierced bone — then brain.
The beast hit the ground and didn't move again.
James rolled off its twitching back, covered in gore, chest heaving. He could barely breathe. One arm didn't want to move.
"Now that," Nysilus said, drifting above the corpse,
"was entertaining."
James didn't respond.
"Loot it," the fairy added.
James groaned.
"You're joking."
"I never joke about loot," Nysilus said, eyes gleaming.
"This world rewards the bold. And the gross."