As Stark came tumbling down the ledge, his eyes widened, and his jaw tightened as he searched for any way to stop his descent.
He looked down below—
The ground was fast approaching, the hard grey soil of the evil forest looking more menacing than ever.
And then he tore past the trees, his body cutting through multiple branches and leaves.
He tried to grab hold of them, but each branch he held would simply snap. They were just far too thin.
That was when he saw something else, something hopefully sturdy enough.
'Please let this work…'
Hurriedly, he reached up and took hold of a thick green vine.
Yank!
The vine extended like a spring, just before bouncing slightly, stopping his fall.
Cold sweat had filled his back and his heartbeat had become erratic, but now hanging from the safety of nature's sturdiest rope…
Stark breathed out and looked up.
He could see through the canopy of the tree, but barely. Up above, floating above the ledge—the three banshees were circling about.
After a few seconds, they turned back, probably presuming he had died from the fall.
"That was a close call…"
He could not imagine the thought of dying minutes after he had just returned.
But then, he heard a sound that made him shudder.
Creak!
He gulped and looked up. "Shit!"
Snap!
Unable to support his weight, the vine tore, sending him on a ten foot drop to the ground.
Keeping his eyes wide open and his legs free, Stark crashed, and rotated his body the moment he hit the floor—doing a barrel roll that sent him slamming into a nearby tree.
He closed his eyes, absorbing the pain that seared through his back.
"At least I'm not dead…" he muttered before opening his eyes.
"…."
There was something staring at him—
Stark paused as he stared back at the odd creature. If he was to describe it in one word, he could call it a man goat.
It had a typical goat's head and hooves, but this strange creature stood on two legs—or rather hooves.
It also had rather muscular arms, maybe even more muscular than him. But thankfully it was as short as a two year old…
So short that Stark considered it kickball.
'Evil forest, man, don't forget where you are.'
Not like it mattered though, at least he had encountered something that he could defeat with ease.
Stark gave his most convincing smile, then he sat up straight.
"Hello little guy, could you point me in the direction of the exit?"
The little beast said nothing, it simply stared, its eyes hard and its lush beard swaying in the wind.
Stark picked up a stick, keeping a respectable distance from the beast.
Poke Poke
He tapped the beast repeatedly on its plump belly, watching as it vibrated with each poke.
"Come on dude, help me out here."
The little thing looked down at the stick and frowned.
For a moment there was silence, right up until the goat man pulled out an axe—
Whoosh!
Stark jumped back, his feet almost tripping on the forest floor as the axe came seconds away from ripping out his throat.
"Calm down little—"
Boom!
The beast planted its axe in the floor where Stark had stood moments ago, dust flew up from the dirt, as its muscles flowed with explosive strength.
The axe the beast was using was just as tall as it, maybe even heavier… and yet, it spun it like an extension of itself.
Jumping up, the goat man went as high as Stark's face, its dash-shaped pupils burning with quiet menace as it nearly took his head off.
A metallic shrill rang through the quiet forest as the axe cut through plain air.
Stark managed to evade it by just a few inches, his long grey hair billowing from the sudden movement.
'It will need a few seconds to recover from that swing.'
Seeing his opportunity, while it was still in the air, he rammed his fist into the beast's gut, following it up with a thunderous uppercut.
The little guy backflipped, like a full-on gymnastic backflip and then it spat out blood, the look in its eyes even more intense than earlier.
Stark cracked his neck and both he and the midget stared themselves down.
Slowly, but with purpose, he grabbed a sizable branch and weighed it.
"Yeah, this should do."
His grip on the branch tightened.
It was getting to nighttime, if he wanted to survive he needed to find shelter soon.
"Come on if you're eager to die so fast, goat man, I don't have all day."
The beast changed, its movement erratic, to make it harder for Stark to predict.
But somehow, as though he had been in countless battles before, he knew instinctively where to swing.
Whoosh!
Tearing through the air with unfettered velocity, the branch exploded against the rock hard belly of the beast, stunning it.
Its eyes widened in pain, and it stumbled back, barely holding onto its axe.
Without missing a beat, Stark lunged at the beast, reaching for the axe, but just as his fingers were mere seconds away from reaching it—
BOOM!
Springing up like a projectile, the goat jumped at him, ramming its horns right into Stark's head.
He was dazed.
Unwillingly, he stumbled back, the area swirling around him and his movements unsteady.
The little bastard was playing possum.
Stark collapsed to the floor, his hand slowly reaching for the ground behind him, while the beast rose, heaving its axe as it pounced.
As the beast came charging at Stark, he smiled.
Stark sent a cloud of dust straight into its eyes and laughed.
"Playing dirty against a goat, what has become of me?"
The beast staggered back, trying to blink away the dust when Stark dove at it, wrestling the little vermin to the ground.
His hands wrapped around its narrow neck and he squeezed.
It thrashed around at first, the air supply to its brain shortening by the second.
But then… It stopped, its eyes closed.
At first Stark thought it was dead, or at least dying…
But then its eyes shot open.
Those eyes that had become bloodshot glared at Stark as it grabbed onto his hand.
And then it began to push.
Stark watched in awe as the tiny goat was actually managing to pull his hands off its neck.
"The fuck?"
Crack!
Stark drove his knee into the creature's crotch, making sure to get all its family jewels in one go.
The creature shrieked so loudly that the entire forest probably heard it, and it let go of Stark.
Swiftly rolling to the side, Stark grabbed the axe, and then he brought it down in one fell swoop.
The axe cleaved right through its neck, ripping through bone and muscle with ease.
Finally, there was quiet.
Stark sat tiredly beside the corpse, his heart pounding and sweat glistening his body.
"Just one fucking goat…"
That was what had pushed him to this extent?!
> Death Whisperer
> Death Singer
> Spirit Herder
None of them could help him in this situation.
He realized then and there—his power lay in gathering spirits.
It was about time he got one.
He glanced at the beast's corpse, and there he saw something glistening above it.
It was a slight glow invisible to the regular human eyes. But to a spirit user like him?
It was gold.