Chapter 61

Harry then wasted no time in scrambling back out of the way of the trashing horns and feet as the Graphorn struggled to free itself while bellowing out in anger and pain. Panting hard, Harry dropped his shield and clutched at his left arm which was on fire and tingling from the multiple blows he'd blocked with his shield while his back throbbed endlessly from the grit filled scrapes and cuts that now littered his bruised back. He just knew his arm had been broken from the force of the blows but tried not to worry about it just yet because he had to finish the creature in order to both put it out of its misery and to prevent it from breaking free.

Making his way around to stand in front of the creature (well out of range of its trashing horns), Harry lifted his wand and timed an overpowered Incendio to hit the Graphorn's open mouth the next time its head swung down and bellowed out in pain (its hide resistant to spells and the creature thrashing too much for Harry to chance getting close enough to stab it again). The creature gasped and moaned as it swallowed Harry's spell before exploding into millions of crystal shards.

The battle summary appeared seconds later and Harry briefly noted that he'd picked up two Gold Horns, two Ivory Tusks, several yards of Graphorn Hide, and the metal Identification Tag that had been fixed to the creature's ear by the wizards that worked the reserve that it had escaped from seven years earlier. Harry wearily closed out the report and gathered up his shield, taking the time to carefully inspect the dragon scale device for signs of damage (finding only a handful of new scratches from where the Graphorn's tucks had scraped against the shield when it head butted him) before he returned it to his Inventory. He then sat down onto the ground to catch his breath.

"You have grown much this past week, young mage," Firenze declared as he trotted out from his hiding place followed by a black dog that whined continuously as it crept up to Harry's side and began nosing him as if inspecting his injuries.

"Not enough; I relied far too much on my other Skills to deal with the Graphorn," Harry countered as he shoved the dog's face away from him after it prodded a particularly deep cut on his back. Hedwig's return prompted the dog to back away even further when she perched on Harry's knee and hissed warningly at the creature. "Where'd the mutt come from?"

"The beast followed us from the forest's edge; he doesn't appear dangerous so I did not bother chasing him off. Why do you hesitate to use these other skills you speak of if you are obviously more comfortable using them?"

"They are skills that don't belong in this world, skills that I learned when I was trapped in SAO for two years. I use some of them here out of habit but if I only relied on the attacks I learned in SAO, then I'd never master the new skills I need to survive this game. Besides, if I fail to master this game's magic, then I might never be free, so I limit how much I use my old skills in order to make certain I will master the new skills."

The centaur stomped his foot and swished his tail to chase off the flies that had been attracted to clearing by the blood of the dead Troll that hadn't yet shattered (Harry had not approached the remains) but said nothing in reply. Both of the centaurs that watched over the young wizard (Bane had joined Firenze in that duty only after Harry started living in the forest at the end of the term) had simply accepted Harry's insistence that this life was a game at face value because to a centaur, all humans were strange creatures; and Harry was no exception. They also had no desire to anger the mage that they feared could destroy them completely if he should turn on them (the herd well aware of Harry's growing Magical Skills in addition to the other skills he'd spoken of since they'd witnessed him using them many times over the year).

"Did you wish to hunt for another Mountain Troll against which to test your skills or will you set up camp and allow me to tend to your injuries first?"

"Camp… definitely camp, I don't think I could face a flock of sleeping Pixies right now."

"Can you walk or did you wish for me to carry you to a more suitable location?"

"So long as we don't go too terribly far, I can walk," Harry replied as he gently shooed Hedwig off of him before gingerly climbing to his feet. He let out a pained hiss when the movement jarred his arm and pulled on the drying blood that covered his injured back.

Firenze slowly led him back down the mountain and away from the Troll's trail of destruction, Harry's progress achingly slow because each step sent pain through both his arm and his back. Firenze had tried to pick Harry up just once to carry him but had been forced to immediately set the wizard back on his feet when it became obvious that he'd only caused the small child more pain. Harry had actually embarrassed the centaur by apologizing for being too slow before the centaur could apologize for making matters worse. The entire time, the black dog whined as it slunk along in their wake.

Setting up camp involved nothing more than digging a small campfire pit in the center of a small clearing, ringing said pit with a few rocks, and filling it with an armful of dead branches before starting a fire with his wand. Firenze had disappeared into the trees while Harry was doing that and soon returned carrying a section of log that he had cut from a fallen tree. The long was quickly set on the ground a few feet away from the fire and lodged in place with a couple of rocks (to prevent it from shifting).

Harry had then removed his shirt through his Player Menu and sat down on the proffered seat while the centaur knelt on the ground behind him and gently began washing the dirt from the wounds on Harry's back. The young wizard grit his teeth and did his best to ignore the pain the process invoked but every so often soft whimpers and whines would escape from between his lips.

Hedwig watched the process from high in the trees in between guarding the undefended camp from would be predators that had been attracted by the scent of blood or the light of the campfire. The dog on the other hand paced back and forth growling and whining beneath its breath in turns as it continuously watched Firenze working. Harry and Firenze both jumped a bit when the creature let out a long frustrated howl before it suddenly rose up on its hind legs and morphed into a familiar man.

"Damn it all; what the hell were you thinking facing off against a fully grown Graphorn all alone!? Why didn't you just run when you saw the brute!? Why the hell didn't you stop him, centaur!?"

"Shut up, Mr. Black," Harry growled in irritation.

"There is no point in running from a rampaging Graphorn, human; they will ruthlessly chase you down and we centaurs are vulnerable to their horns. Our arrows are useless against their hide and their horns make it difficult to aim for their eyes and had I tried I would have risked injuring the young mage. It takes no less than twelve centaurs to bring down a single adult Graphorn and it is not uncommon for two or more of us to be killed or crippled during the course of such a battle as we are forced to fight the beast with our spears at close range."

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