Rather quickly, due to his [Tremor Sense] and [Fine-Tooth Comb], Dei found a suitable meal. He wanted something that was smaller than him but still medium-sized, a lot of meat on it, and was trying to hide.
He wanted it to be hiding, that way he could know that it was a prey animal. It took a lot of requests and specifying with his [Fine-Tooth Comb] while he ran, but he eventually knocked it down to two creatures, both of which were the same type of animal, so he picked the closer one and started running towards it.
He had conflicting emotions on how it looked to his Tremor Sense, because it didn’t look particularly appetizing, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
Several side passageways and hidden entrances later, he soon came upon a dark, damp tunnel, far too small for him to enter standing up. While he could crawl in, he didn’t know the level of the creature, or if it had any defense mechanisms, so he would rather dig most of the way through and see how it reacted.
Setting Fang, the red sword (which he also needed to name), and Clever a few feet away, Dei began tearing into the hole, sending sprays of dirt to the left and right.
The stone in this area was softer than most, and he found that it was more mud than stone. It was already quite easy for him to dig stone, so mud was nothing.
After a few seconds though, he stopped, finding a nearby stream of water and thoroughly washing his hands. It felt awful as dirt got caked under his fingernails, but he didnt really have a nail file. Instead, he used Fang to quickly cut the excess nail off. He felt exasperation from their bond, but he wasn’t willing to let the cracked red blade anywhere close to his hand, and fang was the only other sharp thing nearby.
After cutting his nails, he got back to work digging, and it went much faster.
He dug a human-sized hole out of the wall, fully expecting the creature to move, run, fight, or do something as he dug, but it didn't. Instead, he saw it just sit there unmoving. He could see its slow heartbeat, so he knew it wasn’t dead.
Was it hibernating or something? He didn’t know what season it was, but also, seasons shouldn’t even affect anything so deep in caves.
To be fair, neither should daylight cycles, so he didn’t discredit the theory either.
The entire time he dug, it just… sat there.
He was starting to hesitate a bit more, but kept digging. When he was getting really close to it, around three fourths of the way to it, he decided the suspense was too much. Any closer, and he was afraid it would launch a sneak attack, killing him or something. Instead, he would smoke it out.
Charging up a weak pulse of heat in his lungs, he breathed in deeply, exhaling fire straight into the tunnel.
Quickly, the air around him heated up, but he ignored it. It was nothing to scoff at, but a high Physical stat made it tolerable. What was the heat of an oven compared to magical abilities?
Still, the creature did not move. It did not flinch, and when Clever told him the heat reached it, and it still didn’t move, not even from sitting in the heat for several minutes, he turned to start running, when he got a notification.
[EXP gained for killing the Mud-Murker (Level 42). EXP gain lowered due to level disparity]
He stumbled in his step, flabbergasted. There was no way the creature just… died. No way it just sat there and let him cook it. It had to be a parasite on the creature instead, like a bug attached to it.
Actually was there a limit to how small something could be before it got the System? Did germs have the System? If they did, why didn’t he ever get notifications for them?
In response, a second notification window opened, for only a few seconds. The title of it, located at the top of the tab, was called “Experimental Full Kill Display,” filled with hundreds of thousands of kill notifications flying by every second.
[EXP gained for killing the Microbe (Level 13). EXP gain lowered due to level disparity]
[EXP gained for killing the Microbe (Level 82)]
[EXP gained for killing the Microbe (Level 192). EXP gain raised due to level disparity]
…
Before he could process what he was seeing, the display disappeared, leaving him stunned.
The System still watched him, and showed him that as a response. It likely only showed him because he already knew about germs, and exactly what they were.
He felt comforted for some reason, knowing that there was something out there watching him succeed. He smiled when he realized the System was probably jumping for joy with his every success too, as it needed him to live if it wanted any hope of resurrecting its love.
Shaking off the burst of emotions and refocusing, he realized that the creature was actually dead. Its heartbeat had stopped along with its breathing, and he didn’t know what else to do. He just waited it out as the heat slowly dissipated from the narrow cave. When it was finally cool enough, he got back to digging up the tunnel, finally laying eyes on the creature.
On the outside, it looked like a curled up roly poly the size of his head, but on the inside he knew it looked like the most disgusting bug ever. It was also very meaty, with only the outer shell being very thick. Now that he had eyes on it, he hit it with an Identify. While he couldn’t read anything about this specific creature because it was dead, animals tended to have information on their species, even if they were dead. He was pretty sure that this was what his Identify meant when it mentioned a “soul signature” rather than just “soul”
[Mud-Murker - (Level 42)
Mud-Murkers are large crustaceans that filter-feed on small creatures in muddy, watery environments. Once a Mud-Murker has had its fill, it will immediately drop into a dormant state, releasing very few life signatures to hide itself. Mud-Murkers rely on sheer chance to survive the first few months of their lives, resulting in a rare innate Luck affinity. Mud-Murkers almost never fight, nor do they form ways to attack. They simply improve their hiding and escape abilities as they grow older, while also further relying on chance to prevent them from being found, hoping that no predator is around during one of the few times they wake up to feed.]
‘Huh… its a crustacean? Like lobster or shrimp?’
Much more willing to eat it now, he studied it again. He tried picking it up, but it was still a bit hot, so he waited a few more minutes. It seemed he’d accidentally boiled it in the muddy pool it lived in.
When Clever said that it should be cool enough for him to touch, He picked it up and moved out of its den.
It looked like a balled up armadillo, and he found where it would naturally uncurl itself, were it still alive. Carefully, he slowly pried it open, feeling three latches crack. When they did, the Mud-Murker finally opened up.
‘Nope. still looks disgusting’ he thought to himself, sighing. It looked like an upside down roach with thicker legs. ‘Ugh.’
Bringing it to a nearby stream that flowed from the wall, he washed all the mud he could get off of it. When he was done, he broke one of its legs off, and it did come off like a crab leg, easily cracking. His “cooking” accidentally boiled it perfectly.
He didn’t have any seasonings or butters, but the meat was very fatty, and it didn’t bleed as he cracked the leg off. Breaking it more until the meat was loose, he finally ate his first bite of real food since he’d been forced to live down in the caves.
It wasn’t extraordinary or delicious, the taste of mud somehow built-in slightly to the meat, but it brought him satisfaction to be chewing something again. It was flakey, and the Mud-Murker was naturally very fatty, so it wasn’t dry at all.
It wasn’t very noteworthy, but it was a step towards freedom. He was becoming more independent, able to survive outside of all the gifts his mother gave him.
Sitting on the ground with Fang on his left, the red blade on his right, and Clever curled up in his neck, he appreciated the moment of peace.
* * *
Eating slowly, he finished his meal in around half an hour. He realized that his body was probably digesting it as fast as he was eating it, with the efficiency and effectiveness of his stomach acid increased in proportion to his Physical stat.
‘I wonder if I’ll have to use the bathroom now. The rations were pure energy, but this meat isn’t. Future problem I suppose.’
He still didn’t really know if it was necessary to eat real meat to compensate with the vegetable ration he had, but it was a good experience
* * *
Getting back to traveling, Dei was a bit more comfortable letting Fang attach itself to his bloodstream. She’d eaten her fill already, now it was only going to be a small continuous drain on him, which would help his Homeostasis Skill build up a resistance to blood loss, especially with how his Growing Pains Skill was being limited in its regeneration, slowed as he forced it to pull from a smaller pool. Without his second regeneration Skill to rely on, Homeostasis would take care of all the healing itself.
* * *
He was still a good distance from checkpoint four, but stopped using [Tremor Sense] to guide him. While it might be safe to get closer, he wouldn't risk it. He’d rather manually find his way around the demon-kin.
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It would add a few days, but that was okay. Slow and steady would win this, rushing into danger was an unnecessary risk.
Still… something goaded him into approaching them… for just a second, he was tempted to test himself against them.
He shook himself from the absurd thought, and started taking his roundabout pathway, making his way through the caves without a guide temporarily. He still had [Tremor Sense], so he wasn’t lost, it would just take a bit longer.
* * *
It wasn’t as quick as he’d hoped, but the detour wasn’t as long as he’d feared either. Adding over a week to their travel time. Once past that, it was smooth sailing, but still multiple days until he was finally back to the entrance to Fendrascora’s prison.
He’d made it though. After significant effort, and a much harsher trip than what his Spiritual form had, he’d made it.
He checked his timer to see how long it’d been since he first started
[Since the Fall: 10/12/809 - 14:52:46]
Twenty five days. It took him two days on his first go around, and now it took twenty five. Fights, stopping to sleep or recover, detours and hiding from monsters took their toll on his pace. Still, he’d made it to Fendrascora, and it was time to see what he could do with all of his abilities to tear down her prison.
* * *
POV: George Gladen
George was about to have an awful day. If he survived, it would be an awful month.
‘You signed up for this’ he told himself ‘One thousand gold per month. One thousand gold to sit around and do nothing, until the order that it's time to get to work.’
He was disgustingly rich at this point, and should have quit months ago, but the money was so tempting. He was the advisor of a Slaughterer, in name. Functionally, he was a scapegoat.
Slaughterers tended to be an independent bunch, they didn’t rely on anyone, so scarred from their experiences, but they occasionally needed help. When they had no other options, they would ask the advisor. It was rare, but it did happen, which was justification enough for the Slaughterer themselves to believe it.
Really, though, kings, queens, and councils just needed someone to blame if something in the Slaughterers life went wrong. Slaughterers were strong, independent, and aggressively unstable. They didn’t take bad news well, but a Slaughterer throwing a tantrum was a dangerous thing. It was hard to explain things such as “Societal Burden” or “Duty” to a Slaughterer, and when one of the more feral Slaughterers got angry, they needed someone to vent their anger out on. If they didn’t have that, there was a chance the Slaughterer would take it out on the leaders of the civilization which “wronged” them, as the figurehead to their problems.
Thats where the advisors came in. The position was simple: Become a liaison between the Slaughterer and society, get paid a lot, do nothing until it was time to break some bad news to the Slaughterer. When it was time to break the news, you volunteered that it was your idea. It was your idea to send the Slaughterer somewhere dangerous, somewhere they might lose one of the friends they brought along. If one of their friends died? It was on you. It was your idea to pardon the rich noble who assaulted the Slaughterer. The noble isn’t properly punished by those around them? Well, the advisor thought it was an accident, it was the advisor's idea!
In George's case, it was now his idea to withhold urgent mail from the Slaughterer under his care, for the greater good. A month ago, his Slaughterer, codenamed “Whisper,” was about to be sent on a vitally important reconnaissance mission. She was stealthy and fast, one of the only high-level entities within sapient society that could give them information on the demon-kin armies without being discovered. She was tracking their movements in real time, returning across the border, telling the sapient race armies what she’d found, then going back out to do it all again. Tens of times per week. She was fast, stealthy, and the only one who could complete the job.
That's why when urgent mail came in through a cargo teleporter, an executive decision was made to withhold it from her. While they could not decrypt the magical seal on it without breaking it, and tipping her off to them potentially meddling with the letter, they could guess that the letter would pull her from the front lines.
Slaughterers played a vital part in holding off and, occasionally, pushing back the tides of demon-kin. Slaughterers had high-level, niche specialties that helped very specific scenarios, if the Slaughterers were compensated properly.
Whenever a new Slaughterer was discovered, they were gently introduced to the concept of “society,” given an advisor, and asked to stay near the frontlines just in case their strength was needed.
Many, upon hearing that there was an objectively evil, endless army to fight, were overjoyed. Society was complicated, but most had lived their lives to that point simply fighting, and if they could be praised for doing so? They were happy to.
Those that didn’t enjoy fighting, though, had to be paid well, and in their own currency. To date, there has not been a single Slaughterer that asked for only money for its services. Some tacked on a fee, on top of the actual request, but none were interested in money, far too animalistic to understand how to spend or bargain gold coins.
Instead, they each asked for something they loved. Something they wanted that money could not buy. Whisper, his advisee, was no different. He looked down at her file now, which he’d been holding for the last two hours.
“Slaughterer File - Slaughterer 263
Code Name: Whisper
Race: Voiceless Crier (Formerly: Elf)
Location and Window of Survival: Screaming Abyss for three years, from the age of two to the age of five
Estimated Level: 400-700
Estimated power: It is estimated that Whisper has a fighting strength of around 250, but her survivability and tracking level approximates 600. Whisper's stealth abilities are unsurpassed, estimated to be in the 800-900 range.
Appearance: Voiceless Criers are a previously undiscovered race of sapients, and Whisper is assumed to be the only one of her kind, though she refuses to reveal whether she had the “Matriarch” Achievement. They consist of a soul tied to a large body of air, estimated to be around six kilometers in diameter in Whisper's case. When Whisper's mind focuses on a particular area and she wants her presence to be known, a gentle breeze can be felt.
Threat level: 7/100
Whisper was first discovered in the Screaming Abyss on 18/3/756 when an expedition was launched in search of Terrapain Bells. Slaughterer 185 headed the expedition and, on the way back, declared that they were being tracked. For fear of leading a native to the Screaming Abyss out, the party delayed their exit and took evasive maneuvers, activating every stealth ability in their repertoire, but could not find an escape from the one following them.
After giving the ones guarding the entrance to the Screaming Abyss time to prepare, as was the protocol if the party was late, they exited, leading the enemy out of the Screaming Abyss. Multiple sensitive detection devices activated, locking the area down and preventing the escape of the invisible enemy. After many tense minutes, Whisper finally made her presence known, to tell everyone to release her or die. Slaughterer 185 pridefully told her that he would “enjoy dragging you to hell, monstrous bastard. Slaughterers dont die to whispers” (in reference to her means of communication, whispering in the ears of every guard at once).
Whisper, surprisingly, stated that it too was a Slaughterer, kicking off a conversation on who and what she was, resulting in the reveal of her true identity, as well as a fight between Slaughterer 185 and Whisper, which ended in Slaughterer 185’s demise and a crippling wound to Whisper, incapacitating her for two years.
Specialized healers needed to be brought in to revive her, as it was thought that she did not physically exist, and was instead a spirit. When Soul and Spirit specialists could not find her focused body, the guards around the gate to the Screaming Abyss had to wait for her to make her presence known. After a month, where she was presumed dead, she finally recovered enough to reveal that she simply needed basic healing magic to be present in the area for her to siphon off of.
Twelve healers were brought in to cast their magic to the open air, and the energy was, as stated, siphoned away to somewhere unknown. Grateful for the help, she revealed some information about her race and the physical makeup of her body. She also revealed that she used to be a Prime Elf, but gave up both her name and body in the Screaming Abyss to transform into a Voiceless Crier, a species better suited to surviving in the Screaming Abyss.
She claimed the name “Whisper” in mockery of Slaughterer 185 as, despite his declaration, he did in fact die to a whisper. Under no circumstance should one suggest that her name is anything other than Whisper and, if one finds out her true name from when she was a Prime Elf, absolutely do not use it. See file ‘Slaughterer 263 - Nameless Erasure’ for more information regarding the last person to use her Elven name in her presence. For all intents and purposes, Whisper is both her codename and real name.
Once she was recovered, negotiations were made to find what she could offer to the war effort, as well as the price on her compliance with elven society- as she insisted on living with other elves, despite no longer being one herself.
She stated that she would comply with the laws for free, but would require criminals for every job. Like other Slaughterers who spent their windows of survival in places that caused perpetual pain, she wishes to inflict this upon others. Luckily, only those who deserve such a fate, so the order for her execution has not gone out. When given criminals, it is assumed that she subjects them to maddening sensory overload until their identities become forfeit, and she takes their name (See file ‘Wild Magics - Fae’ for more information on such a process).
Whisper has proven to be reliable, stable (for a Slaughterer) and kind in many cases. She does, however, have the tendency to flay those who even mildly wrong her alive. Because of this, it is assumed she has a Wrath affinity, and one should be wary about violating her Rules.”
It was the last few lines that got to him, that made him panic. Today was the day her mission would be over, and she would soon be in his office for a meeting he called her to. It was in this meeting that he would reveal that he’d withheld an urgent letter so her mission would not be interrupted, and it was here where he knew she was going to, at the very least, skin him. If he was lucky, his physical stats would keep him alive long enough for her to leave and healers part of the Elite to mobilize and save him. If he survived, he would go through the lengthy process of entering the Advisors Survival program, which would fake his death and let him live out a perpetual vacation on the money he’d made over the course of his career.
If he survived.
If.
Finally, after so much tense waiting, he felt it, a light breeze through his office. He’d already put away any loose papers, so there was nothing to stop from falling to the floor, but he did put the file on Whisper away. Slaughterers were able to see their own public files, but he wanted to get this over with already.
“Ah, welcome Whisper. I called you here to talk about something important. I know you appreciate brevity, so I’ll keep it short. A letter came in one month ago marked as urgent, but I thought the mission you were on was too important to stop at the time. I am sorry, this is it.”
As he said that, he unlatched a box specialized in hiding things specifically from Whisper, revealing a small envelope of paper within. It was in the air, seal open, in a single heartbeat, In the second heartbeat, he floated in the air as his arms and legs were held by invisible chains, pulling him. He tried to say something, but his voice never left his throat. Sadly, his high Mental stat let him feel and process what happened next, without letting him do anything about it.
She took all of his skin off, then the muscles on his limbs. Then, she ripped the tendons holding his bones together in his arms and legs, and lastly, she removed his rib cage one piece at a time, dropping what was left of him on the floor, when her presence finally disappeared.
It was absolute agony, over the course of a few seconds. She no doubt took his Mental stat into account when calculating how quickly she could torture him without delaying her departure to wherever the letter called her towards. Despite her desire to torture him though, he was alive, if barely, and only for the next few seconds as his heart no longer had the structure needed to beat.
Before he could die, though, the healers standing ready had begun the process of reconstituting his body.
Lying in a puddle of his own viscera, he could only think “Oh, thank every fucking God there ever was. She let me live.”