Returning home after a long day of adventuring turned out to be harder than he had expected. Everything seemed fine until he mentioned to his parents that he had fought off giant rats. Assuming he would stick to simple gathering quests, his parents were shocked to learn he had been battling dangerous creatures. They reacted dramatically, panicking to the extent that they even considered banning him from future adventures. And, caught up in sharing his tales, he inadvertently revealed an injury he received from the fifth rat he had killed, which only intensified their concerns.
However, with a combination of persuasive arguments and a bit of puppy dog eyes, he managed to stave off any serious punishments from his parents. Ultimately, he had to compromise, promising them he wouldn’t take on any quests or adventures at or above his current rank. This felt almost like a prison sentence; it meant he was stuck dealing with only the rats until he could rank up to a T level adventurer. Still, at least his parents hadn’t completely banned him from adventuring. After all, it was important to always look on the bright side.
The next morning, he quickly put on his adventurer gear, setting out with a clear goal in mind. Today, he was determined to acquire proper protection; after all, armor was essential for any serious adventurer. The previous day, he had opted not to buy armor, choosing instead to invest in a shield that offered more immediate benefits. He reasoned that the more he was injured, the tougher his body would become. But now he wondered, did he even need armor? His shield was designed to absorb the majority of crippling blows, and a few cuts and bruises could only make him stronger.
With the belief that each enemy attack would only make him stronger, he decided to place armor low on his list of priorities. Instead, he resolved that more rat extermination would be his next course of action. After another long day of killing rats, walking into the DOEA office felt rewarding. He had just earned another $2,000, more than doubling his income from the previous day. His hunting methods had become more refined, and he had significantly increased his efficiency in dispatching the rats, greatly boosting his daily earnings.
Days passed in this routine: he would wake up each morning, don his adventuring gear, and spend the day exterminating rats. Each evening, he would deliver his haul to the DOEA office. This pattern continued seamlessly until the second week.
After 10 days of relentless rat hunting, he had honed his skills to become quite the expert, dispatching nearly 100 rats each day. Although he only needed healing for superficial wounds, the cumulative effect of these minor injuries had begun to show. Remarkably, his skin's durability had significantly improved over the past several days.
Although initially skeptical, he noticed that despite all his wounds being on his legs, the improvements in his skin seemed to extend across his entire body, not just the directly affected areas. His working theory was that improvements were organ-specific, and since the skin functions as one large organ, the healing of bruises or cuts on his legs—where the rats could reach—seemed to enhance his skin's resilience overall.
However, this principle didn't seem to apply to his muscles or bones. If his left calf was overused and healed, only that specific calf showed improvement, not his entire muscular system. Similarly, if his right femur was damaged and subsequently healed, only the resilience of that femur increased, without affecting the rest of his bones.
As he surveyed his surroundings, a sudden sense of unease washed over him. The usual noise made by the rats he had been tracking had abruptly ceased. Puzzled, he wondered if they had noticed him or had run away, but quickly dismissed these possibilities. Such behavior was unprecedented; there was no evident reason for it to start happening now. Something was amiss, and it left him on high alert, scanning the environment for any clues to this unexpected change.
Readying himself for a potential fight, he crept toward the area where the rats' noises had ceased. Just as he did so, he spotted a blur of movement out of the corner of his eye. With reflexes honed by countless battles, he turned sharply to the right, raising his shield and swinging his poleaxe in a vicious arc toward the threat. However, before his weapon could connect, a loud crack echoed through the air, followed by a painful snap from his left arm—the one holding his shield. Intense pain shot through the limb, specks of black clouding his vision.
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Acting on instinct, he completed his swing, the poleaxe's head burying itself into the side of the mysterious creature. As he looked down, horror struck him at the sight of his mangled forearm, gruesomely impaled by what appeared to be a horn. The sight of white bone jutting out from his flesh nearly made him gag, but he fought down the nausea and forced himself to assess the situation.
Realizing the horn was lodged firmly in his forearm, he saw a grim opportunity. The creature's head was connected to the horn, giving him a chance to control its movements. Clenching his teeth against the pain, he prepared to use this leverage to his advantage, trying to maneuver the creature into a vulnerable position despite the agony it caused him.
With grim determination, he wrenched the creature's head to the side, using the leverage to his advantage. Swiftly, he dragged his poleaxe through, widening the gash in the creature's side. Shifting his grip, he manipulated the creature's head to the right, creating the perfect angle to plunge the spear-like tip of his poleaxe deeper into the beast, targeting the area where blood was already oozing out.
Leaving the poleaxe embedded in the creature's side, he focused through the excruciating pain. He re-centered his shield, adjusting the creature's head along with it to align with the center of its chest. Summoning all his strength, he pushed upward, simultaneously unsheathing his short sword in a single, fluid motion from above his injured forearm.
Continuing to exert pressure on the creature's head with his shield, he drove forward with his legs, exposing its vulnerable neck. With a forceful upward thrust, his short sword pierced deep into the creature's neck. He then wrenched the blade from side to side, nearly severing the neck, leaving only the top quarter intact. This brutal maneuver was a desperate yet effective means to ensure the creature would not continue its assault.
With its neck nearly severed, the creature quickly bled out and died without further struggle. Throughout the battle, he had channeled healing energy into his body, but his forearm had only partially healed. The massive horn impaling it prevented full recovery, especially since it had shattered the bones completely.
He unstrapped his shield, and the horn fell out of his arm with a sickening crunch, a wave of intense pain nearly causing him to black out. However, with the obstruction gone, his forearm quickly began to heal. Bone and sinew visibly knitted back together as the healing energies, no longer impeded, fully mended his wound.
Once his forearm was fully healed, he stumbled a few steps and, unable to hold back any longer, vomited forcefully, his stomach contents spilling out just a few paces away from what appeared to be an even more heavily mutated rat. Sitting down, he slowly replayed the fight in his mind, going over each moment.
The former cornfield had greatly assisted the giant, unicorn-like rat, shielding the creature from detection until the very last moment. He had used his considerable body weight and the rat’s limited mobility to narrowly secure a victory. It was his first real life-and-death battle, an experience that etched itself deeply into his memory. With steadfast determination, he promised himself that he would never be caught so unawares again.
After catching his breath and recovering for a few minutes, he slowly rose from where he had been sitting. Despite the fight lasting only about 30 seconds, it had thoroughly drained him. It was time to head to the DOEA office, but first, he pulled out the skinning knife he had purchased at the shopping center days earlier. This beast, he realized, was well worth harvesting.
Although he was a novice, he knew that practice makes perfect, so he braced himself for the gruesome task ahead. Observing the creature, he noted the unicorn-like horn protruding from its head, indicating this was some kind of extremely mutated rat. Considering the silence of the other rats in its presence, he wondered if this might be a sort of rat boss—perhaps even a bona fide rat king.
Kneeling down, he exerted considerable effort to detach his shield from the horn, and then began the delicate task of skinning. He slid his knife through the skin, carefully cutting around the base of the horn. In a grim comparison, it was somewhat like cutting a bell pepper, where the core and seeds must be removed. However, in this case, the process was significantly more bloody. It appeared that a major artery lay beneath the horn, and evidently, severing half its neck hadn't completely bled it dry.
After considerable effort and no small amount of time, he finally detached the horn from the rat's head. He then moved on to the tail, severing it efficiently without any ceremony, as he had become accustomed to the task through his frequent battles with the smaller rats. Stowing his trophies carefully, he pulled out his compass and set off back toward town.