“The goal of this trial,” Hunter says, “is to reach that mountain over there,” he points at a mountain in the middle of the island, surrounded by thick foliage, “and climb to the top!”
Even though the walls of the classroom literally collapsed, a hand still flies up. Hunter, being a man of honor, points to it. “Um… Is that all?”
Hunter isn’t fazed. “Yep, that’s all! The time limit is one attempt, starting now, so I suggest you get going. The ones of you who are exempt—you know who you are—you’ll be coming with Me to sit on top of the mountain and watch the Easies flounder for a bit.”
He didn’t need to put it like that, but okay. Apparently, out of the twenty-eight people here, only eight people are from any difficulty aside from Easy. Does it really make that much of a difference?
Either way, the eight of us follow Hunter, who gets us out of the way from the suddenly very stressed Easy challengers, and teleport us as soon as we’re out of sight. Now, we’re on top of the mountain, where there’s a platform, and… A fully decked-out barbeque. And by decked-out I mean that there’s basically any type of non-sapient meat you can think of. Not a single vegetable in sight.
“As we wait for everyone else to arrive, let’s enjoy some food! Afterwards, I’ll bring you to the trials applicable to you. The Easies will be here for a while, so you might as well use the time constructively.”
Spurned on by his promise of more trials, people start digging in.
It looks delicious. It smells delicious. Some of the meat is covered in sauces and glazes and exotic spice rubs, while other pieces have only been given the light salting treatment. There isn’t a single doubt in my mind that whatever meat is on there, it’s tender enough to stand on its own two legs. It doesn’t need any more seasoning.
A trail of drool runs down my chin.
B—but there’s only so much food, and it’s not like I need to eat, so if I eat, I’ll be taking food from others, so…
Hunter spots me across the cape. “What are you standing over there for, Kitty? Come on, have some drake!”
…Aw, to heck with it.
I wipe the drool off my chin and saunter up, grabbing a plate and filling it up as much as I can. Then, I look for a place to sit, unhappily finding that there’s a table for nine prepared atop the mountain. H—he wants me to sit there? Together with everyone else? But, that’s…
Gecko sidles up to me. She gives me a look, and we link telepathically. There’s a bit of lag, but after only a millisecond, we both nod resolutely and march over to the table, sitting next to each other. The other people soon join us, and within only a few minutes, everyone’s sitting around the table—including Hunter.
…Hm? Wait, why’s he sitting with us?
Apparently, my question is shared by the rest of the people at the table, who all stare at him. He smiles back at them. “Go ahead, dig in!”
The other people share glances, but I’m too hungry to care. I dig in.
“Hey, Kitty, why didn’t you grab any utensi—” Gecko’s expression falters.
I bite a hareleg in half, crunching up the bone before swallowing all of it. It’s not polite to talk with food in your mouth. “What is it?”
“Ah, uh…” She shakes her head. “Nothing.”
As she starts eating, the other people around the table begin to tentatively eat as well, an awkward silence falling over us. Ah. This is horrible. I hate this. If Hunter hadn’t been at the table, then…
I glance at Gecko where she sits, munching down on some grilled drake.
Alright, so maybe I wouldn’t have. But it’s still a little tortuous to sit here. I really hope the teamwork trial isn’t like this, or I’ll fail for sure.
“So, uh,” someone across the table says. I assume they’re talking to the table as a whole, so I keep shovelling food down my gullet. These whole baby tarantulas are good! What kind of sauce did he put on them? I don’t think they’ve been grilled, it seems closer to boiling, and then maybe a sauce injection? Unsure. But the shell is crunchy and the abdomen is squishy, so— “You’re from the hell difficulty, huh?”
I almost choke on the tarantula. Actually, no, I am choking on it. How the heck did I inhale a palm-sized—no, that doesn’t matter. They’re trying to talk to me, and I’m being extremely rude by choking. Shoot, shoot, shoot, how do I…? Holding up a finger, I express the fact that I need some time. Then, I slit open my throat, grab the tarantula, put it back on my plate, and eat one of my fingers to undo the damage. Whew, I’m lucky I grabbed a napkin or I wouldn’t be able to clean up the blood…
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I clear my throat. “Yes, I am. How so?”
They’re staring at me. Why? What did I do?
The one who asked leans in closer to a girl sitting next to him. He says it softly, but I can hear him say, “So this is what the hell difficulty challengers are like…” I don’t have time to comment on it before he looks at me again, attempting and mostly failing to show an amicable expression. “Y—your healing abilities are really impressive. What’s your level? We were wondering… Ah, we being my party—that is, me and my three comrades here. We’re a small party, but we’re excited to try to beat the tutorial, so we think that your skills could be a great addition to…”
They really don’t know who I am, do they? Sure, the tutournament was over a year and a half ago, but surely they have to at least have heard of what happened?
Apparently not. Frankly, though, I’m not in the mood to fool them. It’s not like they could kill or arrest me even if they wanted to, so…
“I’m wanted by both the Server Alliance and several kingdoms in Purgatory,” I say. “You really don’t want me in your party.”
The table falls silent again. This time, it’s somehow even more awkward than before. Great going, me! I really do have a knack for this, huh?
While the table falls into social disrepair, I start to wonder… What is my level nowadays?
Let’s see here…
Human Level 159 Agility: 449 (+56) Strength: 366 (+56) Stamina: 482 (+56) Magic Power: N/A> Yep, looks about what I— My right eye itches. “Ughh…” Removing my eyepatch, I itch my eye, blinking to try to get whatever started— {88A88}!! Oh, shoot, Simon! I totally forgot— I stop itching, blinking a few times to make sure he’s still in there. {>>m<<} {::w::} Ah, good, you’re okay. Phew, that was a bit… You’re okay, right? That weird doubling effect is still active, so you should be… …Hm? My status… It looks weird? Hang on. Let me just… I adjust my eyepatch, putting it over my left eye instead. Gecko is looking at me oddly, but it’s fine. I turn my attention to my status. I squint. Looks like another garbled mess— {::w::}! Oh! Simon to the rescue! Within moments, the status message is all fixed—though still just as incomprehensible as before. Let’s see here… Europe Server Username: PrissyKittyPrincess Soul Progress: 78,4% Agility: 5 (+2494%) Strength: 2 (+1124%) Stamina: 4 (+3738%) Magic Power: 57 (+968%)> …What? What the heck does this mean? Why did it suddenly include my middle-name? Um, this is… No, I seriously don’t know. I frown to myself. Maybe if I press one of these, then… {::w::}! Base body agility: 5 Stat modifier: +505% Skill modifier: +630% Soul progress modifier: -21,6% Total agility: 124,7148> This… isn’t really helping. However, if nothing else, there’s one thing I’m understanding here… The stats I see normally aren’t really my stats. No, those stats seem to correlate more so with the stat modifier aspect here. The stats I receive don’t directly increase my strength, they act as a multiplier. The skills seem to have a similar effect. There’s a better question to ask here, though. What is base body agility? If I do the math quickly in my head, it doesn’t seem too implausible that the total agility is the base body agility, multiplied with the rest of the stuff. Unfortunately, this makes me suspect one potentially life-ruining aspect to this whole thing. Base body agility… It’s my body’s actual agility. Like, with no stat modifiers and no special powers, this is purely what my body would be capable of on its own. On its own, with nothing else, my agility is a 5. …And you know what’s worse? The first time I checked my stats, over three years ago, my agility was 9. I remember it well. That only makes it worse. In the years that have passed, I have become weaker. This realization makes me reel. If it wasn’t for my skills and status, I would be just as weak as I look. Because, really… My body is weak. I seldom eat my daily needs. I don’t sleep. Although I move a lot, the fact that I never rest means that I don’t give my muscles time to recover. I’m skin and bones. And that makes me brittle. My hands curl into fists. Bony, trembling fists. But… there is one thing I’m curious about. What is soul progress? It seems to directly cause a debuff to the total stats, but I’m not sure why. Or, rather, the less it is, the more of a debuff it causes. But why? {>>w<<}! Simon—my savior! Level progress: 15,9% Skill progress: 4,3% Resistance progress: 58,2% Total soul progress: 78,4%> …Uh… Well, that’s… By the looks of it, the level adds a tenth of my total level as a percentage. So, by that logic, once you reach level 1000, you’ll reach 100% soul progress—whatever that means. But, more interestingly… What the heck is going on with my resistances? {==w==} Simon, helpful as always. Tolerances: 100/100 Resistances: 100/100 Protections: 67/100 Immunities: 9/100 Nullifications: 0/100> …Well, well, well. So that’s the step beyond immunity, huh? It seems to be the ceiling. One can only imagine how powerful the effect of that will be… More interestingly, why is this calculated separately from skills? All of this is very confusing, but ultimately, explains a lot. If nothing else, this tells me that if I just took care of myself and my body… I could get really strong.