Grip

I grit my teeth, feeling my muscles quake under the strain of holding me aloft for what must have been the fourth consecutive hour. Rokharth was continuously making small, disapproving noises as I tried to scale a wall with "handholds" so thin the tips of my claws digging into the hard wood provided more leverage. With every twitch of my straining muscle fibers I solidified my hatred of Rokharth and this entire organization more and more, increasing my resolve to see this place burned to the ground and everyone in it killed… eventually.

Of course, merely hanging off the side of a near sheer wall wasn't nearly good enough, not for Rokharth and not for me. I may not have wanted to do this in the first place, but I'll be.. well, I'm already damned, but my pride will not allow me to just give up and I'm not about to give that bastard the satisfaction of watching me fail before even reaching the fucking oil!

My muscles screamed as I lifted one trembling arm, using the other to more throw than lift myself up to the next handhold. My fingers desperately scrambled for something to grip onto, eventually lacerating the wood enough to -just barely- hold my weight. I could have tried to ask my parasites to numb the pain of my burning muscles, but the resulting loss in dexterity and ability to determine whether or not I had a good grip would almost certainly kill any chance of success I had.

Skill Gained: Cling

Cling: lvl 1: Allows you to cling to a rough surface at the cost of 10 Sp per second.

I barely glanced over the new skill, noting it was potentially very useful but dismissing it for now; even if I could use it on a smooth wooden wall, the stamina cost wasn’t worth it when I could hold myself up well enough without it. Still, it was nice to gain a skill out of this, even if I questioned what exactly I was doing differently here than I did in the damn sewer.

I took deep and rapid breaths, trying to flush my body with oxygen as I hung limply from the wall. My whole body ached down to the bone, though it was nothing compared to being burned alive while scaling an actual sheer cliffside. I had to grudgingly admit (if only to myself) that I would rather do this a hundred times over than ever repeat that particular feat.

The three points of Endurance I had gained thus far were certainly something of a prize, though earning them through pain and effort was far less pleasant than just dumping points in. It had taken nearly three hours of nonstop and very strenuous exercise before exhaustion had started to settle in and I'd started gaining any points, proving that I would indeed be seeing diminishing returns as I got stronger; though, I'd say being able to hold myself up and climb unsupported for over three hours without rest was more than worth needing to do so to see any benefit.

Of course, the fact that none of this is my choice had to rear its ugly head and sour what little good will I may have had, "Well, how long are you planning on hanging there? Going up by a single rung every bloody hour is a failure in my book." He was exaggerating, of course, but with my nerves as frayed as they were, logic was hardly going to interfere with my anger. Even so, I could barely muster the energy to send a burning glare over my shoulder let alone send the kind of cutting words I'd have liked to respond with.

Or the rather more cutting blades I'd really like to respond with.

Unfortunately, I knew damn well that if I couldn’t beat him relatively fresh, my odds were certainly not improved by the exhaustion this damnable test had induced. This test was different from the balance beams in more than just the medium used; whereas the balance beams were a test of skill, this doubled as an endurance test. Whenever I reached the top, rather than simply dropping down I was instead forced to climb diagonally downward until I tapped the floor and then I had to immediately begin climbing diagonally upwards onto a more difficult wall. If I dawdled Rokharth would throw knives in my general direction (I was fairly sure he wasn’t actually aiming to hit me… but I wasn’t about to test him just in case) and then he would ask -in the most condescending language possible- if I would like to quit like a pansy ass bitch.

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Now, I’ve never been one to hold their pride too dearly, and I knew damn well he was trying to aggravate me into going further than I probably should… but it was working. Partially because I knew the only cost of being pushed too far was strained muscles and lingering exhaustion rather than death as it may well have been in a fight, and partially because I genuinely did want to push myself past his expectations out of sheer fucking spite. Even so, with my Sp lingering in the low thirties even with periodic moments of rest to recover and the hardest wall still a ways away, I had to accept that I was not going to make it that far.

Pride be damned, I’m not about to black out just to try and prove I could do something that was, in the long term, meaningless. I get that being able to do this may be useful in the future if I ever find myself forced to balance in the rain or climb up inhospitable walls for hours on end, but right now there’s no point in breaking myself trying to prepare for a future possibility. If I fuck up and cripple myself here, then all my prep will be for less than nothing.

Even so, I can make it to the first oiled wall at least; I wasn’t completely without pride, after all.

I took a deep breath, ignoring the knife that slammed into the wall next to my hand as I felt my stamina tick slowly up, idly noting that my stamina regenerated slower while I was even relatively passively exercising (not exactly surprising, but notable nonetheless). I didn’t wait for another knife to be hurled my way, surging into motion the moment my Sp ticked above forty five. I threw myself up the wall, barely waiting for my claws to catch on one hand hold before all but leaping to the next.

My stamina drained rapidly as I moved, the strain of not just bearing my weight but repeatedly lifting myself burning through it uncomfortably quickly. Nonetheless, I crested the few feet that remained between me and the roof in a matter of seconds, barely pausing a few scant moments to regain my breath and some stamina before throwing myself downward.

Going down was both easier and harder than climbing up; easier in that gravity was on my side, and harder in that finding hand holds and shifting down without losing my grip and falling outright was a significant challenge. This didn’t stop me, of course; while I could barely summon up the will to care for cautionary measures with my desire to be fucking done already pounding in my mind, I knew well enough that a moment’s caution could spare me a day’s failure. Even so, my descent could best be described as a controlled fall as I simply ensured I had a decent handhold every step of the way without actually stopping myself until my foot tapped the floor.

I grinned, vicious satisfaction all but radiating from me as I reached out to the oil slicked wall to my right. It took me a few seconds to get a decent feeling grip on a hand hold with a thin waterfall of slime flowing over it and my hand. When I was sure I had a good enough grasp, I released my other hand and pulled myself up.

I barely made it three feet up the wall before I lost my grip, slipped, fell, and landed on my back. I released a sigh from where I lay sprawled on the ground, too tired to even muster up sufficient anger to bother standing up as Rokharth stood over me with a condescending smirk.

I did manage to flip him off though.

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He groaned, consciousness slowly stirring in his still tired mind. His groan quickly turned into a moan and then a scream as all the agony Silxazar had taken from him over the past day hit him tenfold. He screamed until his voice gave out and beyond, air hissing out raw vocal cords until his very lungs gave out. He kept trying to scream even without air until the dark spots in his vision swallowed his eyes and his consciousness faded.

But even being unconscious didn't free him from the soul deep agony that roared through him like a burning flame. His nerves burned and his very soul ached, his muscles spasming and his mouth was still open wide in a silent scream even as his blanked out mind conceived of nothing but pain. One by one his nerves began to glow, pink light radiating out from under his skin. The light grew more and more intense until magenta flames burst out from his innumerable wounds, spilling out across his skin but leaving it no more damaged than it was already.

Hours later the flames faded and took that wretched light with them, though his body still writhed and his mind still screamed for many minutes more. He would not wake for hours more, and when he did he would find himself even more exhausted than when he initially passed out.