Maybe there are still a few of you that are interested in my work, so, to give you a little heads up, I'm posting this here.

First and foremost let me say that the editing and continuation of Kael's story will be postponed.

After working on editing right after finishing this first book, I was already so burnt out on the story that it was a slog to get through even the first few chapters. I already had an idea for a different story in my head and decided to take a break from Feathery Delight and start on something new. Just meant as a little project for fun, I grew to really enjoy the characters and the setting of my new work and stuck with it. Now, 4 months later the first 50k words are written and my enthusiasm for the project has not dropped. What does that mean for Kael? Hopefully only a postponing. I still love the setting, story, world, and characters in Feathery Delight and the next two books already have very rough outlines. It is just a matter of editing the first book before starting on the second.

Additionally, there are still so many things I want to work on as a writer that simply don't work in the setting chosen for Feathery Delight. Below you will find the first chapter of my new story. Hopefully, the improved quality of writing shows. Thank you all for reading and giving a damn about my work. :) Give it a try and let me know what you think!

Chapter 1

In the stories his grandparents had told him when he was but a small child, the landscape should be a mix of browns and greens, interrupted by many dots of bright colors. Trees grew strong and healthy into the sky. Grass and colorful flowers hide the brown earth below. Instead, what lay before him was a wasteland of ice and snow. Everywhere Karl looked, the world was tinted white. Billowy mountains of frozen water and air surrounded him. The sun was finally visible again after over 10 years of darkness. But nothing had changed. Would he ever see nature in person, or had it given up on them?

Karl shook his head. Chastising himself for letting his thoughts interrupt his concentration. This was not the time to think about granny Matilda's stories. He focused on his objective. Quickly, his eyes found what he was looking for. The target of this hunt. There, stalking through the slowly shifting mountains of snow. The thick, furry beast was commonly known as a Barom. Its brown color made it rather easy to spot on the otherwise white canvas.

The vaguely bear-like form of the barom trudged through the snow, only stopping to sniff the air from time to time. Even on all fours, it was almost a meter tall. The shaggy, brown fur covering every centimeter of its hide hid steel-like muscles capable of propelling its heavy body forward with incredible speed and power. Hide, strong enough to deflect most mundane attacks. Razor-sharp claws, piercing fangs, and the ability to use phase-energy to empower them made the barom one of the more dangerous predators roaming the tundra.

He lifted his right wrist. With a quick motion, he pushed the hem of his white winter jacket back, exposing the thermal underlay beneath and the slim, unassuming metallic band circling his wrist. There was, strictly speaking, no need to see the device to use it, but Karl had gotten used to it. His eyes focused, and with but a mental command he activated it. The familiar, minimalistic screen appeared just a few centimeters above the accessory.

Name: Karl Baumgarter

Age: 17

Power-Level: 4

Statistics:

Cognitive ability: 3

Wisdom: 5

Sensory functions: 4

Fitness: 3

Phase-compatibility: 0

Skills: [Archery 6] [Silent walking 4] [Trapping 3] [Hiding 3] [Combat prowess: Spear 2] [Combat prowess: Dagger 2] [Running 2]

As minimalist as it was, that was him. It was proof of his accomplishments and hard work. Proof of all the hard work he had put into aspiring to what everyone thought he was. Only seventeen years old, Karl had been heralded as one of the best hunters in his community. The countless slaps of encouragement on his back as he left the academy almost two years ago were still present in his memories.

A satisfied look graced his sharp, mostly hidden features for just a moment when he noticed that his silent walking skill had gone from level three to four. 'There we go. Today is going to be a great day.' He mentally cheered for himself. Every level was precious, especially in skills that helped keep you alive. Silent walking had helped him stalk prey and avoid predators many times before. Confidence boosted, Karl dropped his arm, making the screen disappear with another mental command, and pushed his jacket back into place. It was time for action.

The barom made its way through the dunes of snow. Its slow, seemingly lazy, even dopey-looking movements betrayed nothing of its power and lethality. Estimating the beast's path, Karl looked for a location to place his traps. While Archery was his highest leveled skill for a reason, without a few well-placed traps, even he had no chance of taking the barom down.

Some of the more... intense hunters he knew would try to argue against such an approach, preferring a direct contest of strength. There was some merit to their approach. Skills and abilities leveled faster when they were pushed to their limits. Still, Karl preferred the slow and steady approach to leveling. What good was a Skill when you were dead? Also, wasn’t trapping a separate skill for a reason?

Even distracted by random thoughts, he never stopped searching. „There.“ he whispered, internally cursing the long solo hunts for his habit of talking to himself. When he knew that his voice would give him away, he could still stop himself but was otherwise helpless. He had found the location. A small, narrow valley between two high hills of snow and ice. It lay directly on course for the beast and would limit its movements so that his traps could do their job.

Karl carefully traversed the snow. His thick boots sank silently into the white snow until it covered his ankles. Meanwhile, he was searching for those treacherous patches of ice that sometimes hid beneath the thin layer of fresh snow. He pushed on and arrived at the valley with a few minutes to spare.

Once he arrived, he slipped the backpack off his shoulders, depositing it behind a high snowdrift. Then he pulled out his traps, unclipping the safety covers that kept them secure and quiet during transport. The lethal contraptions of metal jaws and deadly poison were quickly made ready to be set.

Karl managed to arm and hide all five of them with little time to spare and returned to his backpack. There was not enough time to hide his tracks with his brushwood broom, but baroms were known for their strength, not their intelligence. This much should be fine, he thought. Might even attract its attention. Now it was just a matter of minutes. Karl knelt, hiding behind the drift, his white clothes helping him stay hidden. His compound bow and spear were in easy reach.

Finally, the beast entered the valley. With quick and practiced movement Karl changed his winter gloves for the archery gloves and arm bracers he had been using for years now. After checking the release mechanism of his glove, he was ready. He picked up his bow, keeping one hand by the quiver at his hip. This was the part where his patience was tested. The beast was right there. Everything was prepared. Once it stepped into one of his traps, every second counted. It was exhausting. Thankfully, Karl did not have to wait long for the barom to stumble into one of his traps.

He quickly knocked the dangerous-looking arrow to the bowstring. His deft fingers connected the loop mounted to the string and the quick release of his archery gloves in one swift motion. His arm, chest, and back muscles strained as he pulled back. Slowly, the bowstring and arrow moved backward. The camwheels turned, transferring his power evenly across the bow and increasing the pull weight. The resistance quickly spiked. Only when the bow reached full draw did his muscles relax again. Letting out the depleted air in his lungs, he focused on his target.

Karl’s mind was empty of anything but the task at hand. He slipped into the apathetic state he had developed over the years of hunting. Feelings were pushed to the side, and objective facts and observations ruled his decision-making. He followed the barom with his eyes as it moved, waiting for the trap to spring. „Yawoo!“ There it was. Blood was oozing out a wounded front paw, tinting the previously white snow in red. Karl stood up from his crouching position and aimed. The barom was yowling while it clawed at the metal teeth invading its flesh.

Unbeknownst to Karl, its grey eyes flashed purple for just a moment when excess phase-energy escaped its control. He triggered the quick-release, and his arrow was off. As he drew his second arrow with practiced ease, the high-pitched groaning of bending metal reached his ears. His first arrow hit true and injured the beast's sensitive nose. A flash of purple later, the metal jaws of the trap snapped, releasing the beast from its hold. There was no time to curse. His second arrow was on the string. He drew and aimed.

Karl’s mind was going a hundred miles an hour. The power and mastery over phase-energy the beast had demonstrated did not bode well for his survival. Still, there was not much he could do now. Once the fight had begun, there was only one way he would walk out of it. The barom would be dead, and he would be alive. With a snap, the string of his bow shot forward, catapulting his arrow forward.

„Rawr!“ The beast had spotted him. Sailing through the air, stabilized by the small fins at its back, the arrow hit. It penetrated the baroms chest, making an ugly, wet, thunking sound on impact. Karl noticed the muscles on the barom’s legs tense a second before it rushed at him. Estimates of distances and speed updated the complex network of possibilities he used as his battle plan. Another arrow was drawn.

Karl was standing still as he shot one arrow after the other. His motions were smooth and well-practiced. The deadly mass of fur, claws, and teeth was almost upon him. Calmly he drew the bow back again. A loud snap. A crunch, followed by another ghastly howl of the angry monster he was fighting. The trap he had placed between himself and his other traps had triggered, stunning and keeping the beast at bay for a little longer.

Two more arrows soon decorated the barom’s heavily bleeding body. Karl was just about to draw again when the sounds of metal bending reached his ears once more. He had to drop his bow. One hand threw the expensive bow to the side while the other fetched the hunting spear he had prepared beforehand from the ground. Karl had just enough time to get into a fighting stance before the beast was free. With his body turned sideways, his legs spread, one forward and another backward, and the spear held at his hips, he waited for the barom to get in range.

Karl watched the beast push its injured body forward. It took two steps before leaped and sailed through the air with its clawed front paws aiming at his face. Karl noted how the eyes of the barom screamed of pain and untethered rage. He recognized the slight violet shimmer around its claws. There was a tilt when it pushed off. One of its legs seemed to be maimed enough to hamper its movements. All of it was entered into the vast network of background information he drew upon to make decisions.

Then it was upon him. Engaging the roughly 130kg heavy beast head-on was pure stupidity. So, instead of standing his ground and letting the beast crush him into a paste, he shuffled to the side, making the beast sail past him. The sudden movement caught the barom off-guard, and even the rushed claw strike it sent after him only hit the air. It let out a rage-filled howl as it crashed into the ground two meters past him.

Snow was thrown into the air when the barom’s heavy body landed. Karl took the opportunity to attack while the beast was still trying to regain its footing and rushed forward in measured half-steps to keep his form. Once he was in range, his spear shot forward in a straight thrust. He put about 70% of his power behind the attack, and while the weapon struggled to pierce the tough hide, it left a bleeding wound. There was no need to take risks yet, and Karl backed up again before the barom could attack. Karl kept light on his feet and waited for opportunities to attack.

The next minute or two was a blur of shuffling feet and combat. It took a lot of energy to move as he was, but Karl preferred being exhausted to being dead. All things considered, time was on his side. The barom was still bleeding, and thanks to new wounds his spear left from time to time, the rate at which it lost blood was only increasing. It was just a matter of time before the beast would succumb to its injuries.

Karl had just left another shallow cut near its snout when alarm bells went off. The beast was not flinching back. The barom had always needed a short moment to recover after being injured, but this time was different. It ignored the wound and the pain and attacked. He was too close to his foe to cleanly dodge its swipe. Working on pure instinct, he raised the shaft of his spear and tried to bring it between himself and certain death by the empowered claw.

It worked, if only partially. The claw pulverized the solid wooden shaft of his weapon, but it brought him enough time to get out of the way. Using the momentum of the barom’s hit to his advantage, he pushed himself backward and out of clawing distance. With his arms shaking from the impact, still clutching the now two halves of his spear, he shuffled back, trying his hardest to keep his balance.

Just as he thought he had succeeded, his left foot began to slip. He had found one of the treacherous patches of ice that was sometimes hidden below a layer of snow. While the snow soon stopped his momentum, the damage was already done, and his center of gravity had shifted too far back to correct. "Ahh Fuck!" With a heavy thump and more puffing snow, he fell.

His ears rang, and he saw stars. The back of his head hurt, and he was stunned for a moment. By the time he had his facilities back, the barom was already above him. It dove towards him. Instead of its claws, however, Karl came face to face with its open maw. There was no time to think. He reacted.

His hands shot forward. He still had the pieces of his spear in them, and right before the purple-glowing fangs reached his face, a speartip and a chunk of broken wood appeared between them. Karl attacked with every ounce of muscle and willpower he had left. This was do or die. Then it was over. There was no time left. His last thoughts were of his family. Would they be proud of him? Then, there was a crash, and pain pierced his mind for a short moment before the world turned black.