They waited a while to make sure the injured were minimally stabilized to withstand the ride back. In the meantime, Lucian and Adrian skinned the behemoth and also extracted its talons, which they thought may prove to be useful. This was an unnatural beast after all, there might be unnatural qualities to its parts.
The ride back to the waystation blurred into a haze of pain and exhaustion. Mike slumped in Daisy's saddle, the docile mare now led by Adrian since Sebastian's death left her without a guide. Every hoofbeat sent fresh agony through his broken ribs.
Sister Mara rode beside him, hands occasionally glowing with what little healing energy she could muster. "Save your strength," Mike told her after the third attempt. "The others need it more."
"The others aren't holding their intestines in place with willpower and prayer," she countered, but her hands dimmed. Her mana reserves were spent.
Behind them, two bodies wrapped in cloaks lay across horses. Sebastian and Knight Florian, both young men with families waiting for news that would shatter their worlds. Three more knights rode with injuries ranging from serious to critical. They'd won, but victory tasted like ash and blood.
"The Behemoth knew you," Aldric said, pulling his mount alongside Mike's. The Lord Governor's armor bore deep gouges, and dried blood crusted one side of his face. "Called you pattern-speaker. What did it mean?"
Mike considered his answer. These people had bled beside him. They deserved some truth. "My class deals with patterns. Combat applications, analysis, manipulation." He paused, tasting copper. "The creature recognized the abilities somehow."
"Yet you'd never encountered its kind before?"
"Never." That much was completely honest. "But it seemed to know about Pattern Weavers. Maybe they're not as uncommon as I thought."
Aldric's expression suggested he wasn't entirely convinced, but he let it drop. "That trick with the sword and invisible threads. Never seen anything like it. Is that typical for your class?"
"I'm still learning what's possible," Mike admitted. The Thread Manipulation discovery had changed everything. If he could affect lower-level objects without the massive mana costs, entirely new strategies opened up.
A horn blast announced their arrival at the waystation. The gates swung open to reveal Captain Morris and a crowd of anxious faces. The captain's expression shifted from relief to horror as he took in their casualties.
"Clear the common room!" Morris barked. "Fetch every healing potion we have! Hot water and clean cloth! Move!"
They dismounted in organized chaos. Mike tried to swing his leg over Daisy's back and nearly collapsed. Adrian caught him, supporting his weight.
"Easy there," the young hunter said. "You took hits that would've killed anyone else."
Mike wanted to argue, but his health read 397/2,600. One solid hit from falling off a horse might actually finish him. He let Adrian help him inside.
The common room transformed into a field hospital. Sister Mara directed the placement of wounded while guards ran for supplies. Mike found himself on a cot near the fire, trying not to pass out as someone cut away his ruined vest.
"Gods above," Captain Morris breathed, seeing the claw marks. "How are you still conscious?"
Mike didn't answer. Consciousness was a generous term for his current state. The room kept sliding in and out of focus.
Mike activated Biorhythm Restoration, spending what little mana he'd recovered during the ride. An instant cast would cost 3000 mana targeting his own Level 100 body, but he stretched the healing over two minutes to reduce the drain. Warmth spread through his chest as tissue began knitting back together. Slowly. His health crept up to 500.
"Why isn't it working faster?" Adrian asked, watching the wounds close at a crawl.
"Stretching the healing over time to conserve mana," Mike explained through gritted teeth. "Can't afford the cost of rapid restoration."
Sister Mara nodded approvingly as she moved to the next patient. "Smart. Your body's already pushed far beyond normal limits. Better to heal gradually than drain yourself completely."
"The creature's words trouble me," Aldric said. "Ancient things stirring. The deep forest awakening. If something commanded a Level 73 Behemoth..."
"Do you have archives? Records about the deep forest?" Mike asked carefully, aware he was still an outsider but needing to contribute something.
"The Academy in Millhaven has extensive archives," Aldric mused. "Though I doubt they'll have much on creatures of such power. We're in uncharted territory."
A commotion at the door drew their attention. Lucian entered, supporting one of the wounded knights who'd been trying to walk on his own.
"Easy there," Lucian said, guiding the man to a cot. "You're no good to anyone if you collapse."
The injured knight mumbled something about his family in Millhaven. Mike felt a sick weight in his stomach, thinking of how many families would receive terrible news. Florian had mentioned a wife and young daughter during the ride out. Now they'd be widows and orphans.
This was the reality behind the game-like system. Real people with real families, real loss that couldn't be undone by respawning or loading a save.
"I've sent riders to Millhaven," Captain Morris reported to Aldric. "Fastest horses, changing mounts at every farmstead. They'll arrive by dawn with your full report."
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"Good. We'll follow as soon as the wounded can travel." Aldric's jaw tightened. "The city needs to prepare. If this was just a herald..."
Mike closed his eyes, but sleep wouldn't come. His mind kept replaying the battle, analyzing what worked, what didn't. The Thread Manipulation discovery was huge. But against something stronger than the Behemoth? He'd barely survived this fight.
"You're thinking too loud," Sister Mara said, appearing beside his cot with fresh bandages. "Rest. The problems will still be there when you wake."
"Can't rest. Too many questions."
"Then let me ask one." She kept her voice low, hands gentle as she changed his dressings. "You're Level 100, aren't you?"
Mike met her eyes, saying nothing.
"I've healed many warriors over the years," she continued. "Felt their life force through my abilities. Yours is... vast. Like trying to pour mana into an ocean." She smiled slightly. "Your secret's safe. But Aldric suspects. He's too sharp not to."
"What gave it away?"
"Beyond surviving hits that should've liquified you? The mana costs. When I infused you during battle, I felt how much your abilities demanded. No one below Level 80 could sustain such drain."
Mike processed this. He'd been careful, but combat revealed truths that peaceful interaction could hide.
"Why Level 100?" Mara asked. "I've heard of Level 60 champions in the capital. Some say the Emperor himself is Level 85. But 100?"
"Lucky roll," Mike said, which was true enough.
She studied him. "Lucky. Right. Well, lucky for us you were here. Without you, we'd all be dead."
"Two knights are dead anyway."
"And nine people live who wouldn't have." Her tone brooked no argument. "Don't diminish what you accomplished. That creature would've slaughtered us all, then moved on to the villages."
A knock interrupted them. Lucian entered, looking haggard. "Mike? If you're up for it, Aldric wants to discuss tomorrow's plans."
Mike tried to sit up, gasped as his ribs protested. His health had crept up to 800, but he was far from fighting shape.
"Let me help." Adrian appeared with a walking stick. Together, they got Mike vertical and mobile.
The meeting convened in a smaller room. Aldric had shed his damaged armor for simple clothes that made him look more like a merchant than a Lord Governor. The remaining knights stood at attention despite their bandages.
"First, thank you all," Aldric began. "What we faced today shouldn't have been survivable. That we sit here at all is testament to courage and skill."
He gestured to a rough map on the table. "The Behemoth is dead, but its warning haunts me. The deep forest has been quiet for generations. If something's stirring there..."
"The histories mention old ruins," one knight offered. "Structures predating the Empire. Maybe something woke up?"
"Or was woken," Mike said. Everyone turned to him. "The Behemoth was intelligent. It chose to expand territory methodically. That suggests purpose beyond animal instinct."
"You think something sent it?" Aldric asked.
"Or it was fleeing from something worse."
Silence greeted that cheerful thought.
"Either way, we need more information before we can act," Aldric decided. "I'm calling a full muster of the militia. Every able-bodied fighter in the region. We'll also send to the capital for battle mages and high-level support."
"That'll take weeks," Lucian pointed out.
"Then we buy weeks. Evacuate the outlying settlements, fortify the approaches to Millhaven." Aldric's expression hardened. "We can't fight what we don't understand, but we can prepare for the worst."
He turned to Mike. "I'd like you to come to Millhaven. We have healers who can tend your wounds properly, and I suspect we'll need your unique skills before this ends."
Mike nodded. He was perfectly capable of healing himself to full health way before they would make it to Millhaven, but he didnât want to draw any attention to himself. He'd planned to reach Millhaven anyway, and now he had allies who understood at least part of what they faced.
"What about Adrian and me?" Lucian asked. "Our village needs to know about the threat."
"I'll provide horses," Aldric said immediately. "Take word to your people. Any who wish to evacuate to Millhaven will be welcomed. We'll send supplies back with you."
The meeting broke up with plans for dawn departure. Mike made it back to his cot through sheer determination, health now at 850 but exhaustion bone-deep. He used Biorhythm Restoration again, spread over a few minutes, his mana reserves also recovering.
Adrian sat on the next cot, staring at nothing. "I threw that spear," he said quietly. "Right into its mouth. Never done anything like that in my life."
"You saved lives," Mike told him. "That spear throw gave us the opening we needed."
"I was terrified the entire time. Thought I'd piss myself when it first appeared."
"Being brave doesn't mean not feeling fear. It means acting despite it."
Adrian managed a weak smile. "Sounds like something my dad would say." The smile faded. "I keep thinking about their families. Florian talked about his daughter on the ride out. Just started walking, he said."
Mike had no comfort for that. In his old life, he never gave much thought to death. Death was abstract, something that happened to other people or characters on screen. Here, it had weight and consequence that pressed down like mountains. He didnât know yet if these people are real, but it sure seemed that way. He couldnât help but think of his wife and son, wondering where they are right now, and what they might think about where he is. Do they think heâs dead? Are they mourning him right now, like the families of the dead here would soon be?
"Get some rest," he said finally. "Tomorrow's going to be hard."
But sleep still wouldn't come. Mike stared at the ceiling, running through his status. His abilities had performed well, but the mana costs against high-level enemies were crippling. He needed better resource management, more creative applications. He knew he should take a look at his progression, but he just didnât feel up to it.
A soft sound made him turn. Sister Mara moved between cots, checking wounds, offering water to those awake. She caught his eye and approached.
"Still thinking too loud," she said, sitting on a nearby stool. "Let me guess. Analyzing the fight? Planning for next time?"
"Something like that."
"Want some advice from someone who's survived too many battles?"
Mike nodded.
"Victory isn't about perfect tactics or optimal ability use. It's about adapting when everything goes wrong. Today, you adapted. When direct confrontation proved too costly, you found another way. That's why we lived."
"Barely."
âBarely counts.â
"Rest now. Real rest, not planning." She stood, then paused. "Oh, and Mike? Whatever your story is, wherever you came from? I'm glad you're here. We need heroes, even reluctant ones."
She moved on before he could respond. Mike closed his eyes, trying to follow her advice. Tomorrow would bring new challenges. The journey to Millhaven. Integration into a society that might fear his power. And somewhere in the deep forest, ancient things stirred.
But for now, he let exhaustion claim him. In his dreams, Sarah's voice called across impossible distances, and Tommy's laughter echoed through digital spaces between worlds. He was fighting to return to them, but first, he had to survive whatever darkness was waking in this realm.
For a few hours at least, Mike Kowalski was allowed to simply be another wounded soldier who'd survived a battle that should have killed them all.
Tomorrow will have to take care of itself.