The next thirty minutes turned into a brutal series of fights.
One Shadow Wolf pack after another.
The warriors crashed into them swinging wildly, the ranger kept up a steady barrage of arrows, and the mage shrieked and panic-cast firebolts like a terrified chicken with a flamethrower. The thief? Did thiefy things.
Ren stayed way back, lurking behind rocks and bushes like the professional coward he was.
He fired off Basic Heals whenever somebody’s health bar dipped low enough to look concerning, but there was no way he was charging into the front lines if he could help it.
Kanuka had gotten slightly better at aiming, too.
Only one more accidental heal—and this time, it had gone to a startled Gloomsprite, who immediately bolted off into the trees sparkling with health like it had just won the lottery.
“That counts as a successful friendship mission,” Kanuka insisted.
Ren rolled his eyes so hard it felt like exercise.
Still, they kept fighting and moving steadily toward the craggy hills.
Pelts, fangs, and scraps of Shadow Wolf Fur piled up in their inventories.
And finally—
Ding!
A soft golden glow pulsed around Kanuka.
“YES!” he shouted, practically punching the air. “Level 2, baby!”
“Congrats, dumbass,” Ren said, grinning. “Now you’re only half as useless.”
Kanuka flipped him off again, laughing.
The others clapped him on the back and let out tired but genuine cheers.
Leveling meant more mana, more health, and better heals.
Usually, with this much loot and someone hitting a level-up, a pickup group would head back to town for a quick break—sort their bags, spend points, maybe grab a snack. But not this time. Not with this group.
Ren wasn’t thinking about town yet.
He was thinking about the craggy hills ahead.
Jagged stone.
Narrow gullies.
Sharp drops and natural choke points.
Perfect.
He hadn’t dragged them out here to pick flowers.
He wanted the terrain.
The kind of terrain that would make fighting easier for undergeared, underleveled scrubs like them.
He’d stolen the idea shamelessly from that unfortunate loudmouth streamer—the guy who had bragged about it before Ren’s second chance had stolen the opportunity right out from under him.
And Ren didn’t feel bad about it.
Not even a little.
If he wasted time feeling guilty about every opportunity he grabbed, he’d spend the rest of his life whining and moping instead of winning
He waved his staff forward.
“Alright, let’s move! Tight formation! Kill everything that moves!”
And so, with fresh levels under their belts and battered inventories full of loot, Ren and his ragtag party of hopeful idiots marched straight into the rocks.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
The mountainous craggy terrain was really important for the next part of Ren’s plan, because they had to get somewhere safe—somewhere a Shadow Wolf couldn’t just pounce upwards and drag them down.
They carefully climbed into the rocky hills, scrambling over loose gravel and slick stone, until they found a narrow ledge just big enough for their party to cram together.
Ren, naturally, immediately positioned himself way in the back.
“Don’t worry, guys,” he said brightly. “I can heal you from here.”
Technically he might have to step forward a little if things got bad—but as far as Ren was concerned, the farther away he was from wolves and teeth and claws, the better.
He turned toward Kanuka.
“Okay. Kanuka, you’re Level 2 now, right?”
“Yep,” Kanuka said proudly. “Even got a couple points toward Level 3.”
“Good,” said Ren, nodding. “That’s all we need.”
Kanuka frowned. “All we need for what?”
Ren didn’t answer right away. Instead, he eyed Kanuka critically. “How’s your movement speed feeling?”
“Normal,” Kanuka said, shrugging.
Ren smirked. “Yeah, about that.”
In Towerbound, a character’s base movement speed wasn’t just flat. It was tied to their Agility and Strength stats—and how much gear they physically wore.
Everyone started at 100% movement speed if they were completely naked.
The more armor and gear you piled on, the more penalties stacked up—slowing you down bit by bit.
That’s why serious warriors were always hunting for lightweight equipment or gear with weight-reduction bonuses.
Move faster, dodge faster, live longer.
“Your bag inventory doesn’t matter,” Ren said, waving vaguely at Kanuka’s space bag. “But your body does. Your heavy robe and fat staff are dragging you down.”
Kanuka blinked. “It’s just a starter robe, man.”
“And it’s costing you a few percentage points.”
“So?”
“So,” Ren said, grinning evilly, “strip it.”
“What?!”
“Hand it over.”
Grumbling and muttering about betrayal, Kanuka pulled off his battered robe and handed it over, followed by his starter staff.
He stood there, shivering slightly in the chilly mountain wind, wearing nothing but his PG-friendly starter underwear—thin cloth shorts and a cheap shirt.
The female mage in the group gave an appreciative whistle.
Kanuka crossed his arms and glared. “I want to be paid for this show, guys and girls.”
“Don’t worry,” Ren said brightly. “You’ll be fine. Probably.”
The rest of the group chuckled.
Ren pointed at the rocky ground. “Now—everyone who’s not a ranger or a mage, start gathering rocks.”
“Huh? Rocks?” the thief asked, cocking an eyebrow.
Ren nodded.
“Yeah. Listen, not all of us have long-range skills. Some of you are melee, and trying to jump off this ledge is suicide. So when the Alpha shows up, even if rocks only do one point of damage, a hit’s a hit. And it stacks up.”
They spent a few minutes stacking loose rocks into little piles around the ledge.
Auto-lock would help their throwing, but manual throws—even if weak—could still tip a fight.
“Who are we throwing the rocks at again?” the thief asked.
Ren tossed a rock casually up and down in his hand.
“The Shadow Wolf Alpha,” he said.
Everyone straightened up immediately.
A Shadow Wolf Alpha wasn’t just a bigger version of a wolf.
It was faster, meaner, and could easily wipe a full newbie party if they weren’t careful.
But Ren had a plan.
He always had a plan.
“Alright,” he said. “We’re gonna aggro that Alpha, pull it into the kill zone, and pelt it with everything we’ve got.”
There were excited whoops.
Ren clapped his hands together. “But—before that—settings check.”
Everyone quieted.
“You guys,” Ren said, pointing around, “turn your realism settings up to maximum.”
There were groans.
“You’ll get more experience this way,” he explained. “The system gives bonus XP if you’re running at full pain, full immersion, full everything. You want fast levels? This is how we do it.”
He turned to Kanuka.
“Kanuka—you, specifically, need to turn your pain settings down to 10%.”
Kanuka’s eyes widened. “What? Why?”
“Because you’re the bait,” Ren said cheerfully. “And you’re about to die horribly.”
Everyone laughed—except Kanuka.
“You said death just feels like death!” Kanuka protested.
“Yeah,” Ren said. “At 10%, it’ll feel like a nasty punch to the gut. At 100%?
It’ll feel like getting hit by a truck, set on fire, and run over again.”
Kanuka made a strangled noise and fumbled with his settings.
“Also,” Ren added, rubbing his hands together, “I’m kicking you from the group.”
“What?!”
“Sorry. If you’re still in the party when you die, it splits the XP penalty across all of us.
This way, you lose everything yourself—and we don’t get dragged down with you.”
Kanuka muttered something very rude under his breath, but accepted the kick-out anyway.
Ren tossed him a cheerful salute.
“Don’t worry. We’ll still split the loot with you after.”
“Gee, thanks,” Kanuka said, voice dripping with sarcasm Even though Kanuka knew it was necessary, nobody wanted to be the sacrificial bait. Not really. Not even him.
They spent a few more minutes practicing their rock throws.
They even used Kanuka as the moving target.
Every time he got hit by a stone, he’d yelp and curse, while Ren grinned and tossed him a quick heal if he dropped too low.
“This sucks,” Kanuka muttered. “At least it just feels like getting slapped with a wet sock now.”
“Exactly,” Ren said, grinning.
Finally, Ren tossed his practice rock over his shoulder and turned serious.
“You ready, Kanuka?”
Kanuka sighed like a man walking to his own execution.
“For freedom. For victory. For glory,” he muttered unenthusiastically.
“Yeah, yeah,” Ren said. “Go forth, oh brave bait!”
Kanuka muttered a final curse, picked up a few rocks, and began the most suicidal charge of his brief Towerbound career.
The Shadow Wolf Alpha had no idea what was about to hit it.
And what was going to hit it was rocks. Lots and lots of rocks.
