Right fist strike to right hip. I was on the second floor, dodging a falling ogre while gently parrying its wooden club with my left hand. Right knee to chin. The ogre's head snapped back. My strikes and parries are asymmetrical as I favor my dominant hand. Should I compensate, or specialize? The ogre's gone, and I step on a card to claim it, neither looking nor caring what it pictures. Probably a wildcard, definitely level three, and even the level five cards I've activated have been mostly worthless. Four level three cards makes one level five. Over a hundred to make a level ten.

I've killed thousands, and every week they fall a little faster. They're only monsters, but they've never killed me so maybe to them I'm the monster. We'll see when all the votes are in. I'm sure to kill thousands more, but that would suddenly change if I went downstairs again.

I spot another target and stalk toward it, bouncing down the hallway on my toes. Dodge the club as it swings down. I'm not wearing most of my armor. I know exactly where the club will travel and make a conscious effort to guide it with my right hand, just a little, just enough, then break the ogre's right hand with a hammer strike from my left fist. A hammer strike is delivered with the pinky edge of one's hand, much like a classic karate chop but with a closed fist. A proper karateka could use this strike to break wood or stone with an empty hand. My hands are reinforced with steel wrapped around each finger (for protection, lest the Dungeon System misunderstand my meaning).

The ogre drops its club from its broken hand. I could probably fight them with my bare fists. They telegraph predictably, their motions sluggish and almost sleepy. But then I'd sprain a wrist or a finger and have to quit the dungeon for a week or a month, or favor the healthy side. That's no way to choose a habit.

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Now the ogre is shouting. It'll throw its left fist toward me next. Waiting. Here it comes. I'm tempted to block with my forehead, but I parry with the back of my left hand instead. Gently, just enough. The ogre is overextending forward as its fist fails to connect. Perfect chance for a kick to the left knee, but I put my right hand behind my back instead.

A cat is Nature's perfect hunter. When they're well-fed, they miss their prey about as often as any other predator. When a cat is hungry, or a mother cat has kittens to nurse and no time to fool around, their kill rate skyrockets. The curtain parts, the gloves come off, the monster emerges with claws exposed. Some people say they're cruel because they often play with their prey. It's both practice and keeps a mighty hunter from exterminating the local food supply.

Fighting an ogre with my left hand. Does it suffer? Dodge to the right. It seems angry. Both arms coming down toward me now, wait for it. Bounce back a step. I follow its fists as they come down, missing me by inches that might as well be miles, gently pressing down with my left palm as I look at the ogre's twisted face. Who picked this fight?

I came here to get stronger. This creature is my practice dummy. Are they intelligent? They're only monsters, and would kill me if they had the chance. No quarter given, no negotiation.

Overextended again, the ogre's left hand opens for a grapple. I feint back, bounce forward, right foot treads on its left wrist, and land a left hammer strike on its crown. A gem appears, I step on it, and it's moved to Storage.

Two solid strikes and they go down. How many times can I slap an ogre in the face before it disappears? Seven. Parries don't do any damage.

With my steel fists in Storage, I switch to weapons practice. Can the steel club take down one of these beasts in one shot? One strike to the crown, temple, or back of the neck takes them down. Other targets take two shots at best.

It's a long road to level nine from here. Woody creatures with venom spines? Maybe an axe. Maybe fire? One close fight could see me surrounded and meet a grisly end. Lance says they're fast.