Reborn as an Adventurer: I Gain a Skill From Every Monster I Eat

Chapter 68: Chapter 68 — The Long Quest

The posting Lyra had given him described an investigation contract unlike anything Arlen had taken on before — a survey of the forest’s northwestern reaches, territory the guild’s maps marked only in rough, uncertain outline, commissioned by a coalition of merchants hoping to establish whether a rumored mountain pass might offer a viable trade route toward the neighboring kingdom.

Exploration Commission — Northwestern forest survey, unclaimed territory. One week travel estimated each direction. Document terrain, monster populations, viable trade routes, water sources. Solo or small party acceptable given investigative rather than combat focus. Reward: 120 Silver, plus standard Explorer merit credit for any first discoveries. Confirmed Awakened required given unknown territory.

Arlen read it several times before finally deciding, after careful consideration, to take it alone.

He’d grown accustomed to party work these past months — Reya’s expeditions, the goblin camp, the timber camp job — and valued the trust and coordination each had taught him. But this posting felt different, calling back to something he’d nearly forgotten in the steady rhythm of guild life: the simple, solitary joy of genuine exploration, unclaimed territory stretching ahead with nobody’s safety but his own to weigh against every decision.

”Alone,” Garrett repeated, when Arlen mentioned his plan during their next session. ”Two weeks, minimum, in unmapped territory.”

”I’ve had solid training behind me now, and Storm Step’s nearly ready for real use. I think I’m as prepared as I’ll ever be for exactly this kind of work.”

Garrett studied him a long moment, then nodded slowly. ”You are, actually. Wasn’t questioning your capability. Just wanted to make sure you’d thought it through properly rather than simply craving the solitude.”

”Both, honestly,” Arlen admitted.

”Fair enough. Go, then. Bring back proper notes — I’m curious what’s actually out there myself, given how little the guild’s mapped it.”

He set out three days later, pack loaded with careful provisions and every piece of equipment he’d accumulated across months of steady, patient preparation, and found the first day’s travel carrying him through terrain he’d never personally explored — dense woodland gradually giving way to rockier, more elevated ground as he pushed steadily northwest.

He allowed himself, for the first time in longer than he could easily remember, to use his abilities freely rather than carefully rationing their visibility. He called on Hawk’s Eye regularly, scanning distant terrain for both danger and opportunity, the enhanced clarity revealing details he’d have otherwise missed entirely. When the terrain grew steep enough to slow his pace, he practiced Storm Step in short, controlled bursts, gradually building the confidence Garrett’s training had been carefully cultivating.

By the third day, the forest had thinned considerably, giving way to a rocky, wind-swept plateau unlike anything described in the guild’s sparse notes on the region. He made camp at its edge, the sunset painting the exposed stone in shades of deep orange and violet, and found himself simply staring at it for a long while, the old, familiar wonder settling over him with a force he hadn’t felt this purely since the boundary expedition, years — though it felt like a different lifetime — earlier.

Unnamed plateau, he wrote that evening, working through his careful documentation. Rocky, elevated, exposed to considerable wind. No water source immediately visible, though the terrain suggests runoff channels that might indicate seasonal streams. Worth noting for any future trade route — this ground would be difficult for wagons, but passable on foot or with pack animals.

He spotted his first genuinely unfamiliar creature the following morning, a small, burrowing animal with faintly luminescent markings along its back that he’d never seen described in any guild bestiary he’d studied. He tracked it carefully, curious rather than immediately predatory, and spent the better part of an hour simply observing its behavior before finally, deliberately, deciding to test whether it might yield something worth the effort of a proper hunt.

He caught it that evening, and found the meat, once prepared, carrying an unusual, faintly sweet quality unlike anything he’d tasted before.

Glowmark Burrower, tentative name pending proper guild classification, he wrote, working through his now-practiced cataloguing process. Small, luminescent markings, meat sweeter than expected. Pairs surprisingly well with the wild mountain thyme growing throughout this plateau.

The warmth arrived that evening, familiar now across five previous encounters with this pattern, though he found himself no less genuinely excited each time it happened. It gathered low, spreading through his core with a grounding, steady quality unlike the sharper sensations of Ember Touch or Storm Step.

A name surfaced, certain and whole.

Earthen Grip.

He tested it cautiously, pressing his palm against the rocky ground, and found, to his fascination, that he could sense subtle vibrations through the stone itself — footsteps, perhaps, or the movement of larger creatures, translated into faint, readable tremors beneath his palm.

Sixth ability, he wrote, turning the discovery over with careful attention. Earthen Grip — some manner of connection to stone and earth, still testing the full extent. Sensed vibration through solid rock just now, which could prove enormously useful for tracking or advance warning in terrain like this.

He thought back, turning the day over, on everything else he’d eaten across the journey so far — a brace of ordinary trail hares two days back, a modest fish caught from a mountain stream, ordinary game that had filled his stomach well enough but left no trace of warmth, no name surfacing unbidden in his mind afterward.

Not everything grants something, he wrote, working through the observation carefully. I’ve eaten plenty these past days that gave me nothing at all — the hares, the fish, nothing from either. Only the Glowmark Burrower, same as the boar, the eel, the lizard, the hawks before it. Common animals, ordinary game, apparently don’t carry whatever it is that makes this happen. Has to be something in the creature itself — some trait worth having, maybe, rather than simple flesh and blood.

Makes sense, in a strange way. If every rabbit and fish granted something, I’d have dozens of abilities by now instead of six. There’s some line separating an ordinary animal from whatever these creatures actually are — monster, magical beast, whatever the guild bestiary wants to call them. I don’t fully understand where that line sits. I only know, now, that it exists.

He spent the following days pushing steadily further into the unclaimed territory, documenting everything with the same careful, methodical attention he brought to every serious pursuit — new plant life, unfamiliar terrain features, a genuine mountain pass that appeared, after careful survey, to offer exactly the kind of viable trade route the commissioning merchants had hoped for.

He ate well throughout the journey, hunting deliberately rather than simply for survival, testing his growing collection of abilities freely against whatever challenges the unclaimed terrain offered. He used Water Affinity to navigate a swollen mountain stream that would otherwise have cost him a considerable detour. He called on Ember Touch to properly cook a particularly tough cut of meat from a larger creature he’d hunted on the fifth day, and found himself, that evening, genuinely satisfied with a meal that would have been considerably more difficult to prepare without the ability’s convenient heat.

Seven days out now, he wrote, on what he calculated to be the journey’s furthest point before beginning the return leg. Documented the mountain pass properly — viable for trade, with some modification needed for wagon traffic. Six abilities now, each one earning its place through genuine, deliberate use rather than simply sitting unused out of caution.

This is what I wanted, I think, when I first dreamed of becoming an adventurer. Not just fighting, not just quest rewards, but this — genuine solitude in genuinely unclaimed territory, testing myself against terrain nobody’s properly mapped, tasting food nobody’s properly catalogued, discovering abilities I’d never have found chasing only safe, familiar work.

I miss my friends, honestly. Cobb’s humor, Sil’s dry commentary, Reya’s sharp confidence. But I think I needed this too — time alone, free to be exactly what I actually am without the careful, constant calculation of what I can safely reveal to anyone else.

He turned back toward Greyhaven on what he calculated to be his eighth day out, the return journey carrying its own quieter satisfaction, retracing familiar ground now rather than pushing into the genuinely unknown. He continued documenting as he traveled, filling page after page of his journal with careful notes on terrain, wildlife, and the small, private triumphs of a solo expedition well executed.

He hadn’t planned to extend the journey. But standing at the edge of the plateau that same afternoon, well ahead of his original estimate and with days of margin still built into his two-week allowance, he found himself looking north toward a stretch of terrain the guild’s maps didn’t even bother marking as unknown — simply blank, unlabeled space, well beyond the route he’d originally planned to retrace.

He stood there a long moment, weighing the decision carefully. He had supplies enough to stretch a few days further, if he was disciplined about it. And he understood, standing at the edge of ground nobody had apparently ever bothered surveying, that a chance like this — genuinely uncharted terrain, this close to territory he already knew how to safely reach again — might not present itself twice.

A few more days, he wrote that evening, the decision already made. I have the time. I have the supplies. When will I have this chance again, this close to genuinely uncharted ground?

He closed the journal, the plateau’s cold wind settling over his small camp, and turned his course northward the following morning rather than continuing his retreat toward Greyhaven — already looking forward, with the same quiet, patient anticipation that had carried him through every deliberate stage of this life, to whatever the unmarked terrain ahead might still have waiting for him.