The Path of Precision was brought to the fore, and Chase immediately followed the path it laid out to avoid the boulder, bending his torso to move out of the way. Unfortunately while he had grown more agile, the benefits the Network granted making him far and beyond what was possible even in Olympic athletes a few months prior, he wasn’t fast enough to completely avoid the earthen projectile. It clipped his side, and though the pain was intense, Chase didn't have time to worry about the damage done.
As Chase straightened, the glyptodon had drawn its legs and head underneath the shell, which looked even larger up close. Then, faster than Chase would have believed possible for something so large, it lunged forward, spikes rising up from its shell like a dog's hackles and shredding the dirt.
Chase jumped, avoiding the charge, and was grateful that the Path of Precision was active, because if he hadn't seen the path form, he wouldn't have jumped in time to avoid the attack. Landing in a roll, Chase ducked under the swing of the glyptodon’s tail and returned to his feet, his eyes narrowing as he tried to spot a weak point.
While his weapon of choice was good for dealing with armor, and it was the best pick he’d made so far, Chase was skeptical about the point being able to punch in deep enough to do serious damage. Unless he managed to score a blow to the spine or brain, he might just have to bleed it out. Fortunately, while it had its boulder trick and had some beefy defenses, it didn’t seem to be particularly fast.
Which made sense, he realized. In its natural environment, there probably wasn't a whole lot it would have had to avoid. He couldn't imagine anything that would want to take on something with a shell like that, and the glyptodon's charge and the boulder were the only attacks it had shown so far.
The charge was a powerful attack, but not necessarily a fast one, and once the boulder was moving it couldn’t adjust its trejectory. If he could keep moving, it shouldn't be too hard to stay out of range. Hopefully. He should probably put more points into Agility when he next leveled up.
Refocusing, Chase charged the glyptodon, using the Path of Precision to find the gaps between its spikes and leap through. As the path formed, he could see that it led him towards the base of its head.
So when the glyptodon's head snapped forward, trying to grab him, Chase was ready. Diving forward, he rolled beneath the creature's neck, then spun, swinging his pick up into the softer flesh where its head connected to its shell.
His aim was true, the pick sinking into the muscle and eliciting a pained roar. It was a lucky hit, the angle allowing him to sink the pick nearly to the haft, and the glyptodon thrashed, trying to free itself from the sharp antler in its neck. Chase pulled his weapon free and moved out from under the glyptodon before it could crush him.
His eyes flickered over the glyptodon, and his eyes narrowed. Despite there being a veritable shower of blood leaking from its neck, the glyptodon moved like it was barely inconvenienced.
“This is going to take a while,” Chase muttered. Raising his voice, he called out to Ricardo, “I don’t suppose these things have a weak spot?”
“The top of the head, maybe?” Ricardo called out, shimmering barriers hovering in front of him, a mass of dokkalfar hiding behind him. “I hadn’t had time to study as much as I’d have liked, but I vaguely remember a hypothesis that early humans hunted them by bashing themontheheadtostunthemthenflippingthemoverbut…”
Chase would normally have reminded Ricardo to breathe, but the glyptodon was charging him again. The Path of Precision helped him avoid the charge, and as he landed, he called back, “The top of the head, right?”
“That was the hypothesis!”
Chase nodded and ran for the glyptodon. It had ground itself to a halt, and before it could turn itself around, Chase leapt towards the back of its shell, grabbing one of the spikes and using it to launch himself up and onto the glyptodon's back. With a grunt, he hauled himself up and grabbed another spike, pulling himself along until he was directly above the glyptodon's head.
Jumping down, Chase maneuvered himself so that all of his weight landed on the top of the glyptodon’s skull, the heel of his right foot colliding with a loud crunch. Pain roared through his leg, and Chase nearly screamed in pain. Just what kind of stats did this thing have?!
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But it worked. The glyptodon stumbled, its head hitting the ground with a dull thud. Not waiting for it to recover, Chase raised his pick with both hands and slammed it down into the spot he hoped was the brain. The point pierced the hide and the tough bastard jerked and screeched, jostling Chase’s arms violently, forcing him to struggle to maintain his grip.
With a snarl, the glyptodon snapped its head to the side, making Chase lose his grip and sending him flying through the air until he landed hard in the dirt. Rising to his feet, Chase noted that the glyptodon was still staggering on unsteady feet.
Rushing forward, Chase avoided the worst of the shower of rocks that the glyptodon sent at him and grabbed onto the rim of its shell. Using all the strength in his legs and arms, Chase groaned as he tried to flip the glyptodon onto its back. After a moment, he felt a surge of strength flow through him and the glyptodon rolled onto its back.
Chase quickly stepped back, panting heavily as he watched its stubby legs thrash about. Maneuvering around to the head, he pulled his pick out from its skull and looked at the softer skin under its neck. Quickly spotting the best spot to strike with Path of Precision, he brought it down with a single, precise blow.
The glyptodon stilled, and Chase let out a sigh of relief. He’d think of something to do with the skull, but it was much too big for him to use the majority of it for personal gear.
“Well fought Lord Newell,” the voice of Uthrik came from behind Chase, and he turned to give a halfhearted glare at the dokkalfar.
“Thanks for the assistance,” Chase sarcastically quipped, rolling his neck.
“Our weapons proved unable to pierce its hide, if we had remained in melee, we would have been in your way,” was the immediate response, making Chase blink, sending a curious look at the soldier.
Rather than verbally answer, Uthrik walked over to the dead glyptodon and drew his sword before attempting to cut the softer underbelly. Nothing happened, not even a line. Chase stared in incomprehension before, curiously, tossing his pick to Uthrik.
“Try it with that,” Chase said, curious how much of a difference his Echoes of the Hunt perk made.
The result shocked Chase. While Uthrik swinging with all his strength allowed him to make a small hole, the tip of the pick didn’t even penetrate the width of Chase’s thumbnail. Uthrik had to put the point against the skin and shove, and even then it only sank a few centimeters in.
“Well, that’s interesting,” Chase said, taking his pick back from Uthrik. “Save the skull and some of the meat for me, your people can use the rest. I recommend trying a couple different methods to cook it.”
“As…you say, Lord Newell,” Uthrik said after a moment. “Was there a reason you and your advisor came here?”
Shaking his head, Chase nodded, “Yeah, once you guys are situated and established, let me know if your craftsmen have some excess goods. I’ve got a way to sell them through the Network, and I’ll set up a percentage commission with them.”
“Very well. I will inform Sikadi and she will have an inventory report compiled for your perusal. Was that all?”
Chase thought about it for a moment, then nodded. That was really all he needed from them at the moment.
~*~*~*~
A few days passed. The dokkalfar started clearing trees and erecting their buildings. Ricardo and Chase helped them clear trees, but Ricardo was usually off with the scouting group.
They had managed to kill a few more of the giant, mutated squirrels that roamed the area, and while the hides weren't worth a whole lot, they were apparently good for leatherworking. Or at least, he'd been told that they were better than what the dokkalfar had been working with.
But that wasn't what Chase was happiest about. He hadn't noticed it at the time, but the gylptodon had pushed him to Level 23, and he'd made a discovery. Whereas before he'd been getting five points to distribute per level, this last level he'd gotten ten. Ricardo's books confirmed that it was a benefit of advancing his race to Rank K, in addition to granting an immediate boost to all Characteristics, the higher your race's rank, the faster your Characteristics increased.
He’d eventually decided to split the ten points between his Resilience and Agility, bringing their totals to 115 and 62 respectively. He’d read the description for the Survivalist skill he’d gotten for completing the Man vs Nature quest he’d gotten at the beginning, and contrary to his expectations, it actually was a regenerative skill that was scaled off his Resilience.
Which, he supposed, was a fair enough reason to invest more points into it, even without considering that it was one of the stats that his class cared about. It explained how despite having been beaten and batted about by the glyptodon he was completely recovered in an hour.
Speaking of the glyptodon, while it wasn’t what he’d originally been thinking, he decided to turn the skull that he’d called dibs on into another shield. He still wanted to repair his turtle shell shield if the crafting interface would allow it, but in the meantime he needed a replacement.
“My Lord,” a melodic voice called out, making Chase lift his head from where he was removing one of the cheek muscles from the head.
Sikadi was approaching, alone to his surprise. Waving her over, Chase set his knife down and rinsed his hands in a bucket of water.
“Sikadi, what brings you over by yourself?” he asked, drying his hands on his pants.
“I have the inventory you requested, My Lord,” she answered, pulling out a stack of off-white plates filled with neat, orderly text.
Taking the plates, Chase noticed that she was barefoot again. Come to think of it, every dokkalfar he’d seen was barefoot, except for the heir he’d killed. It was quite possible that there was a sensitive cultural reason for it, a socially adept person would broach the topic carefully.
“Why are you all barefoot?” Chase asked. He’d never been socially adept.
Sikadi blinked, looking up at him as she answered, “We are thralls, all of us. Thralls are not permitted footwear.”
Chase looked up, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Why? I can’t think of a reason to justify it, but I feel like there must have been one at some point.”
Sikadi’s mouth opened and closed for a few moments, before she slowly said, “I…do not know. It is how our society has been for thousands of years. It just…is.”