Osric left Ashbrook by the eastern road.
The city loosened its grip gradually—stone giving way to dirt, voices thinning into isolated echoes, the smell of smoke and cooked food fading beneath damp earth and leaf rot. He walked at an even pace, not rushing, not lingering, the sword at his side moving naturally with each step.
It no longer felt foreign.
Heavy, yes—but familiar now. The weight no longer pulled at his balance or demanded constant adjustment. His hand rested near the hilt out of habit rather than need, fingers relaxed, ready.
That alone told him something had changed.
The forest waited ahead, dense and quiet, its edge marked by churned soil and bent grass where animals crossed often. Osric slowed as he approached, attention widening without conscious effort. Sounds separated themselves—wind through leaves, distant birds, the faint scrape of something moving far deeper in.
Not danger.
Not yet.
He stepped off the road and onto softer ground, boots sinking slightly into earth darkened by moisture. Almost immediately, he saw it—the signs Franklin had warned him about.
Deep gouges in the dirt.
Saplings snapped low and carelessly.
Mud torn up in long, uneven lines where something heavy had turned sharply or charged without concern for what lay in its path.
Osric crouched and pressed his fingers into one of the tracks.
Wide.
Deep.
Not fast—but unstoppable once moving.
"Thornback Boars," he murmured.
Predictable.
And unforgiving.
He straightened slowly, eyes lifting toward the trees ahead. This wasn't a duel. This wasn't a test of reflex or clever tricks. It was a lesson in footing, timing, and respect for weight that didn't care how sharp his blade was.
Osric adjusted his path, angling with the wind instead of against it.
He wasn't here to rush.
He was here to learn—without paying the price for arrogance.
The forest accepted his presence without reaction.
For now.
And Osric moved forward, knowing that the next mistake wouldn't come with a warning.
Osric followed the trail without stepping directly into it.
He moved parallel to the churned ground, letting the signs guide him while keeping distance. Thornback Boars were not subtle creatures. They tore through undergrowth because they could afford to. Speed wasn't their strength—momentum was.
The forest around him thickened as he advanced, the canopy closing just enough to dim the light. Roots broke the surface of the ground in twisting patterns, and fallen leaves concealed uneven dips that could spell disaster if he moved carelessly. Osric slowed further, placing each step with intention.
This wasn't about finding them.
They would announce themselves soon enough.
A low sound rolled through the trees.
Not a roar. Not a snort.
A rumbling grunt, deep and resonant, vibrating through the ground more than the air.
Osric stopped instantly.
He lowered his center of gravity and listened.
Another grunt followed—closer this time—accompanied by the unmistakable sound of something heavy shifting its weight. Leaves crunched. A bush trembled, then stilled.
Osric exhaled slowly through his nose.
There.
He slid his hand to the sword's hilt but didn't draw it yet. Thornback Boars didn't stalk. They reacted. Sudden movement, poor positioning, or getting caught in open ground would decide everything in the first heartbeat.
He edged toward a cluster of thick trees, putting solid trunks between himself and the sound. His eyes scanned constantly—left, right, ground, then forward again. Heightened Senses didn't shout warnings, but it sharpened the moment when something didn't belong.
The underbrush ahead shifted violently.
A massive shape burst into view.
The Thornback Boar was larger than Osric had expected—its body low and wide, muscle packed beneath coarse, mud-caked hide. Thick bristles rose along its spine like jagged armor, hardened and darkened from old scars. Its tusks curved forward, stained and chipped, built less for precision than destruction.
It wasn't charging yet.
It was assessing.
Small, dark eyes fixed on Osric as it snorted, digging one hoof into the dirt. The ground trembled faintly beneath its weight.
Osric drew his sword.
The iron blade felt solid in his hands—no hesitation, no surprise. He didn't raise it high. He kept it angled, point forward, stance widened slightly to keep balance. His grip was firm but not white-knuckled.
No flourish.
No wasted motion.
'Don't meet it head-on,' he reminded himself. 'Make it move first.'
The boar snorted again, louder now.
Then it charged.
The world compressed into motion and sound.
Osric moved sideways, not back—cutting at an angle just as the boar thundered past where he'd been standing. The ground shook violently as the creature tore through undergrowth, momentum carrying it several paces before it skidded and turned.
Osric's heart pounded—but his mind stayed clear.
It was fast.
Faster than he'd expected.
But not agile.
The boar wheeled around, muscles bunching as it prepared to charge again, breathing hard through flared nostrils.
Osric adjusted his footing, circling slowly, forcing it to turn with him. His arms felt steady. His legs held firm. No pain interfered. No weakness crept in.
This was what full strength felt like.
The boar charged again.
This time, Osric didn't evade fully.
He stepped just inside its path and slashed—hard—aiming for the shoulder where muscle met joint.
The blade bit.
Not deep enough.
The hide resisted, thick and stubborn, the cut glancing instead of sinking. The impact jarred Osric's arms, vibration shooting up through his wrists.
The boar screamed.
A raw, furious sound.
It clipped Osric with its bulk as it passed, sending him stumbling sideways. He rolled instinctively, dirt filling his mouth as he scrambled back to his feet just in time to avoid a tusk gouging the ground where his leg had been.
Osric's breath came fast now.
So this was the lesson.
Power alone wasn't enough.
Iron alone wasn't enough.
He had to choose his cuts.
The boar turned again, blood darkening the coarse bristles along its shoulder. It was angrier now. Less cautious.
More dangerous.
Osric raised his sword once more, stance tightening.
This fight wasn't over.
Not yet.
And the forest watched in silence as the real test began.