Chapter 62: Battle cry
Chapter 62: Battle cry
I holed myself up in a crevice in the hard rock that could be called a cave if you were half my size. It was barely big enough for me to curl inside, but was almost unnoticeable from outside, especially after I cowered the entrance with webs that blended with the snow around.
With half a million EXP I got from the griffin I caught, I had more than a million total EXP to spend on ‘Cold Resistance’. I put much less in it, though—only the three hundred thousand it took to level it up to 15. I also had to look at another puzzling choice of upgrades.
This one it was ‘Cold Shield’ versus ‘Cold Affinity’. My normal logic would’ve made me pick the first option—it obviously was something defensive. My gut, though, told me that there would be drawbacks, and I was most afraid to lose my mobility. Especially now, when it was at an all-time high. I could not just fly, I could hover, turn around mid air, even do somersaults if I wanted.
Mobility was the king! Armour only took you that far. But with mobility, at the very least, you could always escape. And since winning every single fight was impossible, no matter how strong you were, escaping from the fights you couldn’t win was vital. Not to mention that dodging always saved you from damage with more guarantee than armour.
So I chose the second option.
When the rests of the evolutionary pain dissipated—and this was one of the longer ones, as with all the abilities that affected my entire body—I felt much better than before I laid down to evolve. The chill that permeated the thin air of the mountains receded. I felt too hot in my warm clothes.
I felt even better after taking them off. Without the heat, I the freshness of the harsh mountain winds filled me with a fresh surge of energy. And I knew it was more than just getting some sleep. I wondered if one of my passive abilities was responsible, and my bets were on ‘Cold Affinity’, though I didn’t know how exactly it was related to what I felt.
It was hard with abilities sometimes. Just plain puzzling. I still puzzled over it as I flew to a tiny mountain lake in order to fill my water flask and maybe even take a swim—now that the cold didn’t bother me, cleaning up seemed like a really pleasant idea.
One look at the still waters made me pause and make a double take. Then I grabbed at my hair. It was barely short enough to reach my ears, but I had to see, anyway. I had to make sure. I plucked out two strands: one from the top, and one from the side of my head.
The one on top was bright red. The one from the side was icy-blue, the same colour as the Frost Griffin’s feather. I threw them aside and sighed. It just figured I would get strange colouring at a place I couldn’t see without a mirror.
My hair, originally black, now was icy-blue everywhere except for a red stripe on top of my head. I remembered well where else I saw that stripe—on the berserk mouse that almost killed me. A sign of ‘Berserk’ ability, just like the blue colour was a sign of ‘Cold Resistance’.
Just another day of my life. Since my skin was still mostly transparent, I had no chances of looking pretty either way. I wondered how I would deal with it in the city. I’d need to cover everything… Find or make a mask.
This was something to think about later. For now, I hunted.
⠀⠀
Blue Mountains were full not only mountain goats and Frost Griffins. There were more dangerous creatures, too. Sometimes, I had to avoid a team of adventurers. Once, I saw a giant bird with gleaming rainbow wings fly above and had to hide until it passed. This was, I knew, a Bird of Paradise, and a single look at it was enough to tell that it was too dangerous.
And sometimes I would hear thunder coming from the highest peak of the mountains, though there were no lightnings in sight and the sky was clear. But I didn’t fly that far and high there. The air there made it harder to not just fly, but even to breathe.
Since I found Frost Griffin’s territory, I continued to explore it. I didn’t know if there would be only one griffin per place or if they came in pairs or packs—this was a piece of information Rosha wasn’t privy to. Soon enough, though, I found the signs that there were more than one. Claw marks of different size and on different height, different footprints.
A few times, I saw them flying far away in the sky. I could’ve joined them there, but I knew better. They’d notice me if I moved into open space and they’d swoop in with the speed helped by gravity and the long distance they could use to accelerate. Too dangerous.
I had to find their nest, but they hid it well. It wasn’t anywhere in the open—the griffins didn’t trust height alone to protect themselves in their sleep. Not surprising with all these other monsters around.
But nest or no nest, I knew I got lucky that day, when I heard a loud, warning screech of a griffin nearby. I knew I got even luckier when I quietly followed the sound of a huge Frost Griffin marking his territory with its wicked front claws. It screeched again, signalling everyone to keep away.
I didn’t intend to. I crouched behind in a low bush, planning my course of attack.
Then, suddenly, another screech reached my ears. It came from close by, too, from one of the many cliffs above the griffin. But it wasn’t another griffin’s cry. It was a high, rage-filled scream that could belong only to a female.
A human female.