CHAPTER 59: FLAME FOREST BEASTS

Jethro understood what was happening. He didn’t have much of a choice anyway. Didn’t have much time. Something was watching him from the shadows— watching him with intent —and it wanted him. Jethro could tell.

He hadn’t anticipated being afraid. He knew that Flame Forests, despite their extremely high saturation of flame-based aether, only hosted mechbeasts ranging from Gray to Silver Rank within its flaming thickets.

This was because of the small region space. If Gold ranked mechbeasts or higher were living here, they would fight constantly to claim it as territory. Only Silver to Gray Ranks tolerated each other enough to share.

But those eyes... they didn’t feel like they belonged to anything Silver, Bronze, or Gray.

[Deep Sense], Jethro’s passive skill, prickled like a cold needle at the base of his skull, sending waves of static through his nerves and making every hair on his body stand.

Jethro lowered into a crouch, moving slowly as he scooped up Scorch.

He rose again, slipping the lizard around his neck. Scorch had grown just large enough that perching on Jethro’s shoulder was awkward. Now the creature’s tail could coil across his collarbone like a lazy snake.

Meanwhile, the feeling became stronger, like the predator was moving, etching closer on the boiling ground.

Jethro didn’t know if running was a good idea yet. Back in his former world, turning your back on an apex predator was the fastest way to end up inside its stomach.

But he had to know what he was dealing with. What kind of mechbeast was staring him down with such malevolent patience?

[Deep Sense] was mainly a passive Skill, but Jethro knew from games he’d played, that passive Skills could also be used like active ones. In fact, consciously using passive Skills, tend to make them more powerful than they would naturally be.

So, he consciously activated [Deep Sense].

The thermal haze painted across his vision once again, turning the entire forest into a heat map. He looked in the direction where he had seen the mechbeast’s eyes, and this time, he captured its form.

It crouched twenty meters away, half-hidden behind a cascade of molten rock. The eyes were still the same. Unblinking. Ancient. Deadly. It was like they hadn’t looked away ever since they set on him.

Jethro made out the rest of its body.

The head was big and craggy, covered in glassy black metallic skin, threaded with orange fissures.

It started to move, stirring more likely, like it could tell that Jethro had noticed it. Its humanoid body advanced like a slither, crawling on the ground, closer and closer, its human-like arms pulling it ahead.

Except it was too slow. Far too slow to be an apex predator.

Jethro’s eyes widened. "Fucking Magma Sloth!"

He couldn’t stand and wait for that mad beast to get any closer. They were dreadfully slow, yes, but their brute force could shatter ferrocrete, and they bend lava to create constructs with that twisted mind of theirs.

Jethro stumbled backwards, trying to hide behind a tree. He knew what a menace those Sloths were, but as long as he managed to stay out of their evil gaze, it couldn’t create lava constructs to harm him.

That was the saving grace with Magma Sloths: if you stayed out of their direct sightline, their constructs couldn’t find you.

"Stay still, Scorch," Jethro whispered to his lizard. "Don’t move so it won’t see you."

The tree kept them out of the Magma Sloth’s periphery, the fires on its branches crackling above Jethro and Scorch. But when Jethro risked a glance to check where the Sloth was, he met its cold, dreadful eyes almost immediately.

It knew he was there. The slow bastard was stalking and waiting. And crawling closer at the same time.

Jethro knew then that he couldn’t just stay there and wait. The Magma Sloth was a Gold Rank, Grade B. Jethro? Even with Scorch’s earlier victories tonight, Jethro was still only Gray Rank. And Scorch, was at best, a Grade B.

They stood no chance.

[Deep Sense] mapped the burning terrain for Jethro, showing him where was safe and where wasn’t.

There were bigger trees, spiky mountains, smaller fire lakes and rock faces. With that stored in his memory, Jethro took one deep breath and exploded into a sprint.

"Come on, you ugly Sloth! Race you to the city!" he shouted over his shoulder.

The Sloth paused, standing on a small rock, and watching him scurry down the forest with impressive speed. It didn’t chase, but its gaze stayed locked, tracking every step Jethro took.

Still running, Jethro looked over his shoulder and saw the Magma Sloth standing silently, watching him. Jethro frowned. "That’s not good," he mumbled. "Either Mr. Slowpoke has given up... or—"

The ground suddenly burst open. A hand of glowing molt emerged, reaching to grab him by the ankle. Jethro leaped high, averting the burning grasp in a brisk second before landing a few feet ahead. "...it’s summoning lava constructs!"

He increased his pace, running as fast as he could. More molten hands burst out of the earth like the fiery undead, reaching for him, trying to pull him into the burning underworld.

But Jethro was fast, at least faster than the Sloth’s constructs.

His Agility stats had increased exponentially after [Deep Sense], and Jethro could feel it. Especially because he sensed another construct— a large sweeping palm, attempting to grab him from the direction he was heading to —just in time.

Jethro cut to the right, using the movement to launch himself at a flaming tree. Mid-leap, he activated [Wall-Climb] at the same time, praying in the depths of his mind that it worked on tree barks as well.

It did!

His palms and feet clung to the charred surface like they’d been glued there. Below him, the great molten hand swiped through empty space before sinking back into the scorched earth.

Silence was present for a while, nothing but Jethro’s own heavy breathing filled his ears.

He looked at his palm, gummed to the bark of the tree, and he grinned. "Take that, Peter Parker," he murmured.

But the grin vanished instantly as his eyes caught something above him.

Hidden in a crevice, wreathed in fire-vines, was a nest.

A nest of Flamewing Crows.

The bristling mechbirds froze for a heartbeat, their eyes taking him in.

"If I cawed, would you believe I’m one of you guys?" Jethro offered weakly.

The Crows looked at each other, seemed to come to an unspoken conclusion, then spun back toward him. They suddenly erupted into ear-piercing shrieks and dove straight for the walk-climbing intruder.

"No! Damn it!"