Lighting a fire without a tool seemed easy when Uncle Basil was doing it. Admittedly, the man had access to sun magic which made the whole ordeal incredibly simple.
The man had told Diven how to do it without the help of sun magic. But, much like for other things in life, Uncle Basil had trouble putting himself in others’ shoes.
It wasn’t that he didn’t understand his uncle. With Sun Heart bloodline, he was considered the heir of their Leios clan’s founder. Uncle Basil had never been treated like a normal clan member; it was natural for him to be a little detached.
Although, if Diven was honest with himself, he wished Uncle Basil were a little more present. As in, don’t abandon your nephew in the middle of the Wildlands.
At least, Diven had memorized the general idea. With enough perseverance, it should be possible to succeed.
He sat on a flat patch of snow and started rubbing two dry sticks together. Well, two dryish pieces of wood. Nothing was truly dry in a world filled with snow.
He had a larger piece as the base and a stick he was rolling between his hands against the former. He was giving it his all. Going as fast as his body allowed him to. Wood spinning against wood. His hands hurt from the friction.
But it wasn’t enough. He slumped down, catching his breath.
There was a small mark on the wood, showing the results of his efforts, but no sign of smoke or ember. The mark wasn’t even slightly black.
Not expecting it to be easy, Diven went back at it.
The second attempt showed some promise. Still no smoke, but the wood was blackening on the spot he was rubbing with his stick.
The third attempt was not dissimilar.
The fourth was a complete failure. The stick he was rubbing in his palms escaped from his grasp and landed on the ground a few steps away.
He stood up to retrieve it and kept trying.
The fifth try wasn’t good either.
On the sixth attempt, his stick broke. He picked a new one and continued.
He stopped counting and eventually, he was able to create smoke. He was enthusiastic, but it turned out to be only the beginning of his troubles. The ember just wouldn’t come.
He tried and tried again but nothing would come out of it. The skin of his hands was starting to hurt, some punctures appearing here and there.
It didn’t seem like Uncle Basil’s technique would work
Changing his approach, he ground some pine bark to dust and lodged it inside the hole that had formed in the wood he was working. Once again, he started rolling his stick between his hands with all the speed he could muster.
He needed to be steady. Fast and steady. He needed to keep at it for long enough for a spark to form.
Faster.
Faster.
He had to keep going. His muscles were sore, and his strength was reduced by the exertion and the lack of nutrition.
But he couldn’t stop.
He needed to spin the stick in his hands.
Continuously.
Faster.
Harder.
When Diven was reaching the end of his endurance, when he was about to give up and rest in preparation for another attempt, it finally happened.
A small, glowing ember appeared. It looked so fragile. Just one breath could extinguish it. One moment of inattention.
Diven carefully blew on it and added wood to fuel the nascent flame. Hoping with all his heart that it would take, Diven concentrated all his efforts on his creation, slowly and with all the care he could muster.
It latched onto the wood. It had started.
Unwilling to risk the result of his efforts, he scrambled to feed the fire with more wood. The heat started eating into the snow.
Diven wasn’t sure what would happen if the snow melted onto his fire. Would it be enough to extinguish it? He had no idea how deep the snow bank was. Nor how it would react to the fire.
In a panic, Diven cut out a piece of spearfish meat and threw it directly into the fire.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
It burned, the fats from the cut stoking the flames.
Well.
He needed to find a way to recover his meat without burning his hands now. Not willing to risk his only spear, he used a piece of wood to push his meal out of the fire.
It was completely charred. Still, Diven was hungry enough that scraping it a bit to remove the most egregious burns sufficed.
It didn’t taste too bad. Grilled fish.
Sitting next to his fire, he lamented that he wasn’t awarded a skill for his feat of lighting a fire with no tool. However, he knew facetless skills were rare. Getting Spearfishing was already amazing.
Looking back at the monster’s corpse, he noticed dark patches had started appearing on the meat.
It was rotting.
Already.
Black streaks were already crossing the exposed insides of the beast. Its scaly back was throbbing from the reaction.
It was a shame, he would have liked to make some rations with it. It happened so fast.
Diven stood up and walked deeper into the valley, not wanting to see more of it. He wasn’t out of trouble. He needed to find a new beast to hunt and figure out a way to store food.
He couldn’t count on a beatable monster finding him every time he got hungry.
All things considered, he had eaten and he felt a lot more confident looking for monsters now that he knew he could fight back. The problem was that he had no talent for tracking.
Luckily, Diven didn’t have to walk far before another frostcrawler spearfish made itself heard. He dispatched it in a similarly easy fashion, bolstering his confidence.
Since he didn’t have any food reserves, he quickly gathered wood for another fire. This time, he built a makeshift fire pit with stones he found lying around. Despite his recent experience, it still took him a while to get the fire going. When he finally did, it looked stable.
He went on to prepare the spearfish, using the same technique he used on smaller fish, except he also cut off the miniature feet of the creature. He found them disgusting to look at and certainly didn’t want to eat any.
Once it was done, he detached the bone spear from the beast's head and used it as a skewer to roast its body. The thing was very sturdy, almost like metal, while being surprisingly light for its size.
He figured if he cooked the whole body at once, it wouldn’t have time to rot.
Diven lay down next to a tree and took a nap. Although there was no day-night cycle in the rift, he still needed sleep. Since he was alone, He planned to doze lightly, ready to wake at the first sign of danger. With the Trap Detection skill, he should be fine.
Closing his eyes, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander. He wasn’t that tired. Even after fighting two frostcrawlers, he hadn’t been injured. The most difficult thing had been to light two fires, but even then it had merely taken a while and a few scratches on his hands.
He was giddy at how much he had progressed since being left to die on the shore of the Lien. It wasn’t shown in his garden, nor in the mental list of his skills and other attributes. It was real, tangible progress.
He was better. More competent.
He didn’t need to lose himself in the illusions created by Echoes of the Heart. He would return to Kheiron for real, relying on his skills. Then he would live the life he wanted. He would convince the clan of his worth.
If one of his skills ascended, he was convinced the elders would be forced to accept him within their ranks. Rot attunement or not, the Leios clan couldn’t afford to reject such a powerhouse.
Maybe he would even reach the next step. Like he had in the visions.
Sweet thoughts filling his head, Diven fell asleep.
He woke up to a slightly overcooked spearfish.
At least there was no sign of rot on the meat. He cut out a portion and ate it, boiled some snow for drinking, then prepared the rest of the carcass so he could take as much food as possible with him.
Once the small bag the guardians had given him with his rations was full, he put out the fire and abandoned what was left of his catch. As unfortunate as it was, he couldn’t possibly carry the entire carcass. It would be fine if he was willing to stay near his self-made fire pit for a few days. However, he didn’t want to. It wasn’t safe, and his recent successes had lit a fire inside of him. He wanted to explore.
In a moment of hesitation, he picked up the bone spear and took it with him. Although it was annoying to carry two spears, the bone one was light enough not to be a burden—and it could prove useful.
As deprived as he was, he wasn’t going to let any item go to waste.
His steps took him deeper and deeper into the valley. At this point, the two mountains forming it were growing closer to each other, narrowing the passage. Diven really noticed it when he had to climb over rocks to keep advancing.
He didn’t think going back to the black stone was a good idea. His facet had already started growing again, and while he was quite sure it would keep progressing as long as he didn’t overuse his Echoes of the Heart, he didn’t want to fall back into his delusional routine.
Living his life in Kheiron through a skill wasn’t the solution. No matter how good the skill was, it wasn’t the same as living for real. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t use Echoes of the Heart at all, but he would only do so when he needed to heal an injury.
The faster he was back outside the rift, the better. And the best way to do so was to take risks and explore. Plus there was this forced facet selection issue to consider. He needed a new option. With the recent refresher of what his rot attunement did, he was more motivated than ever to avoid Facet of the Rot Mage.
Furthermore, the more he thought about it, the stranger he found the guardians. Even if it was not something he heard of, he could wrap his head around the concept of someone overseeing the rift. But a trial to complete three facets before exiting? Them trading a heal against them picking his facets.
He didn’t know. It felt off.
Navigating the rugged terrain under the thick canopy was difficult. His initial goal was to pass between the two mountains, but now that a small window opened in the dense vegetation, he realized he couldn't continue as planned.
There had to be a passage between the two peaks he could see. Their silhouettes were defined enough for that to be likely. But it would still be at a high altitude.
He climbed on a rock to get a better idea of his surroundings. When he took in the view around him, he saw he was already a third of the way up the mountain.
Orientation wasn’t his strong suit. But since he didn’t have a destination in mind, it was to be expected. It wasn’t like the terrain was easy on him.
Considering his options for a moment, he decided to commit to the climb. He had food reserves and no objective in mind, maybe the view from the top would inspire him. If not, it was still something he wanted to see.
Who knew? Maybe he would spot the rift’s exit from up there.