[u][b]The Borders of Thunderstruck Grove[/b][/u]
Nothing changed for Klein, not really, as he finally accepted his job. A flickering of light, and a screen flashed before his eyes as he jumped more than ten levels in an instant, obtained three new abilities as well. It wasn’t nearly as many levels as the others, but it wasn’t too bad either. With this, at least, he would be able to finally begin growing in strength as well, no longer wholly reliant on his Nuclei’s ability to contribute to the group.

The others had reconvened at the Keystone at this point as well, a dusty, sweaty Raime being the last to join them. While perceiving the world at six times the dilation of a normal individual, the scout had still noticed that many other Immortals were shooting out of Nyu-Taro at speeds rivalling or surpassing his own. For the monsters closest to the city-state, however, as well as the adventurers who actually stopped to fight them, he had been…not a blur exactly, but fast enough of a target that no one bothered. Searching and foraging couldn’t be done on the go though, not unless Raime stopped in place and allowed his subjective time dilation to fade away, and after a session of picking at unknown plants and weeds, he had come away with [b]thirty seven assorted vegetables[/b]: eight blue star-shaped herbs, twelve snowflake-esque weeds, ten orange buds with spiralling petals, and seventeen more of those white herbs he suspected were painkillers. The value of his herb collection was hard to tell when Raime had no concrete idea what they were, but at least he had them.

A more concrete form of success, really, was found in a new awareness of how exactly rishi could be made within the game. The wooden planks nailed to the wall informed of escort missions, yes, but also of requests to kill a variety of monsters. Of the Thunderstruck Grove in particular, vagrant onis were going for the price of [b]20,000 rishi[/b] per head, with the proof of kill being their horns. Less extravagant, but still a great bonus, were reanimated warriors. These went for [b]10,000 rishi[/b], but only if you could find a family crest on them, or any other form of identification. Grieving families didn’t pay, apparently, for corpses of questionable identity. Finally, there was a special commission from the Ryoku-Jo clan, personally funding an endeavor to slay all bandits and criminals within the Grove, offering a reward that could go all the way up to [b]500,000 rishi[/b]. It was a lump sum payment though, apparently based off the infamy of those that were slain rather than the amount, and it required one to bring back the heads of their foes to one of the clan’s outposts for identification and examination.

Regardless, it was with this knowledge that the group set off for the Thunderstruck Grove, taking the northern gate out of the city-state. The terrain became more varied as they walked down the well-trodden path, often passing and being passed by groups of other Immortals. The quality of the gear seen on the bodies of their peers was definitely a couple steps up compared to the type of people who they encountered at the Pearl Bloom River or the Goldspun Fields. A Mohawk-sporting woman in lacquered wood rode a massive bear that sparked and sputtered with crystalline bolts. A slender youth in fine robes carried a well-worn book in one hand and a sundering spear of jade and pearl in another. A bulky shadow, form not betraying the swift silence in which they moved, shot past them, the scarlet of their scarf trailing behind them. Nyu-Taro was the neutral city-state within Horogi, the cradle of this nation’s newest Immortals, and Thunderstruck Grove appeared to be where the strongest of the newbies went to complete their training.

And like that, it stood before them.

Smoke and fog mixed together as scarred, skeletal trees clawed at the sky above. The dirt here was dark, blackened, shrubbery yellowed and sparse. Moss-grown stone statues could be found here and there, some half-consumed by tree roots, others cracked and broken. They served as landmarks; there were no clear roads here, and the obscuring weather swallowed people up whole. Sounds of conflict were muted by the density of the trees, and perhaps some other factor. Only the occasional scream sounded clearly, but maybe that was just from the evil spirits that lingered within this forest? Was that clattering just some loose stones, or of dry bone? Did someone in the party sigh, or was that the breath of a stalking monster? As the party delved into the forest and considered what they ought to prioritize, whether it be bandit hunting, monster slaying, or tunnel searching, there was at least one thing to be optimistic about.

It wasn’t night, yet.