Stealthily departing to the woods, I decided to spend the whole day on my own. A nice period of grinding to zone out and let everyone calm down while still being productive. Not leveling up, every successful battle left me feeling somewhat elated; getting Experience was enough to trigger a small rush, but it wasn't much of one. Still a pleasant experience, hehe.
In the process of taking down 12 goblins over the course of the hunt, I came to get a better grasp of their mannerisms. Large packs like the one I'd run into with Ross and Troy were frequent, but I avoided them, an easy task on my own. Instead, I worked on cleaning up the solo goblins I found.
The thought of forming a beastiary occurred to me, but without writing materials, the knowledge might as well be kept in the head. Only a few different sets of facts would really stick, so I didn't go full goblin anthropologist. Nonetheless, in the process of finding out their scouting ranges and territories, there were quite a few points of interest. At least, I found it to be interesting.
Recall that goblins’ hands are clawed, giving them trouble trying to grasp items. But not all goblins are created equal. Imagine your own hand(assuming this book has gotten home to a human population), and replace the final segment with a stout claw 5 cm long. Without the traction of fingerprints, or ability to yield a bit like flesh, this would hamper your grasp; but it would not be a fatal blow. Your second joint would still be able to help. However these goblins were in the minority, most possessed a hand structure of palm, phalange, then claw. Unable to ‘coil’ as much, the majority of goblin had trouble holding weapons with smaller hilts.
But the truly curious thing is in the societal division. More interested in killing trying to level up again and avoiding the larger bands, it remained speculation; however there seemed to be a hierarchical distinction between the two. Those with better grasp were more frequently found on their own, or in a pair, while the majority formed larger packs.
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No extra effort was spent on that day, and I just killed the grasper goblin I’d been following when it reached an isolated area.
Such chances weren't to be given up, most of my time was spent practicing my stealth skill. At least one patrol roamed per square kilometer, perhaps even a quarter of that area. The clash of combat didn't travel well through the trees, but enough goblins were in the area that I knew I had to strike quickly. Numerous, I wasn't really in the mood to figure out why, or find their encampment or whatever. It was a grinding trip to kick back and relax a bit.
I returned that evening with quite a few good quality corpses stacked in my Inventory. Unlike processed undead, as long as the bodies weren't missing too many parts, they would stack, once again confusing me as to how Inventory actually worked. Also, six hand spiders were enough for the moment, particularly since I couldn't actually make a great deal of alchemical products at one time. Speaking of which, I grabbed a few herbs on my way back in case I was asked where I had gone. I could have retrieved them from my Inventory, but my stocks increased this way. With infinite stacking, even if I didn't use them if they were already in there, I might as well get more.
Back in the village, things appeared as usual. At first it came as a relief nothing happened. Then, night proper arrived and nothing happened. The lull seemed suspicious, but if the Poran weren't acting, I could do nothing about it. I decided to stay awake just in case, as well as because days were only 21 hours long. Even if each session of sleep didn't last long, they still occurred far too frequently. I’d spend a third of my new life asleep at that pace.
Though I turned the sandman away from my door, no one else came knocking. I just sat with my thoughts until dawn began breaking, and the villagers began gathering for round two of the service.
Having not slept, I reached the area while it was vacant. Standing off to the side, sitting in the middle would make a few uncomfortable, but I made sure the distance wasn't too great. Indeed, the first few villagers to arrive shied away at first, but once more gathered the reaction diminished. The stunt yesterday had been unnerving, but ultimately harmless.
Then the trio arrived, and my eyebrows came together. They’d brought the ceremonial basin again. Most people only attended a service once a week, the amount of time it took to recover the blood given. So bringing the basin out again was an ill omen for the village. Time would tell if the three dared to ask for a sacrifice again, and it did not look favorable.
The order of the procession remained the same. Tomas told some dull stories of the Patriarch, this time a repeat for me about how he gave the Flow of Life to mankind. Harold gave an emphatic speech on the Scriptured Doctrines, and the subtle difference between Life and Unlife. Unlife is that which goes against the Flow of Life, and in his broad interpretation ended up being basically anything he didn't like. He included point-ears, which made me happy, but then he spoke a bit on demons, and magic.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
Is he attempting to incite me?
I didn't care, so I wore a bored expression for when the occasional villager glanced at me. It was a look saying ‘you are so wrong, I’m not even going to bother’. Even less came of this sermon than the one yesterday. Nervousness built in the air, the third portion of the service was approaching, and no one was looking forward to it. Only zealots would want to participate in such a crazy act.
So when Tyra stepped forward to ask for a sacrifice again, other than Melissa, the villagers were even slower to react. Even Corsair, the second to step forward was hesitant. It may not have been much, but he still attended a proper service in Glaucen in the past. He clearly felt something off, but went along with it anyway.
More resolute and confident in my healing abilities, I didn't delay long, but being on the edge meant a few more fell in line before me, including Troy, and Ross and Hannah.
When I reached the bowl, almost half had been filled. I took the dagger from Harold, and Tyra did not move to help me this time. As I readied the blade, the three grit their teeth upon noticing my arm had returned to normal from yesterday.
Don't be surprised, the wounds your fellows would have still been here if I healed normally. Hm, perhaps this was actually a test of my recovery abilities as well. Then let me ace it.
Clearing my throat, I gave the faint hearted a little warning. This cut would be a little deeper than the last. I doubted I could fill the remaining liter plus with my current health. Crippling effects also needed to be avoided, and planning the path ahead of time, a clean gash was slowly drawn for 25% of my health.
That only produced half a liter at most, but by that point the blade had reached near my elbow. The surgical precision is only due to the fact the cut went along a low risk area. Dragging the cut further would move into the area of several arteries, and my knowledge of anatomy wasn't so great as to continue on the fly. Another cut held the risk of making the injury compound and adding a crippling effect, and cutting the other arm would likely lead to waste, as well as not being in line with how the ceremony went in this instance.
In the end, I only provided enough extra for three or four more people behind me to get out of it. A bit of safe practice was needed to go further. 75% of my hitpoints remained, and if that was all I could do, then the end of the week looked grim. Just more to do, I supposed.
Being the second time, there was less shock, and since I got in line sooner, the ritual could proceed for a few people more. When the basin had almost filled, Tyra stopped and dismissed the village. Moving straight for the forest’s edge, the brothers, along with Hannah, accompanied me for a bit.
“Haha, I see what you’re doing up there Alric. Theeey might not be able to, but I do.” Troy moved along stretching out his words and gait more than usual. He acted lightheaded, so I withdrew my healing potion in a beaker.
“Drink this you fool. Don’t go too overboard if this happens tomorrow.” Leading the way, I stopped us for a few moments to make sure Troy didn't spill or drop the beaker. Ross took the time to interject.
“You as well. Don't push yourself too far either. You're not immortal, so you say.”
“Haha, you actually sound a bit skeptical! I’m flattered, I think, but I know my limits. Twice as much damage as that still wouldn’t kill me, there's just the trouble of cutting the wrong muscles too deeply. Just be ready for tomorrow. I'm not trying to make a spectacle, but it's far easier for me to bear the burden. I recover in a few hours anyhow, as opposed to several days for you all.”
“If you know what you're doing. Should we come with you to the forest?”
“No, there’s business other than herbs for me there.” I shook my head. Enjoyable companions falling behind during power scaling was regrettable, but nothing could be done about it. Asking them if they felt a rush when killing things also wasn't something I wanted to ask. “You two need to recover more than I do in any case. If you see Rion, remind him to be careful, he’ll know what I mean.” Smiling mysteriously, I headed out into the forest.
Given the almost two hours to reach the depths of the forest where the goblins roamed, I had time to heal up and play a few games of Operation with my arm. The buzzer sounded a few times as I struck arteries a few times, inducing the [Bleeding] effect, but after a short period of rest, the damage would be gone.
That slowed my pace a little, but plenty of daylight remained before it was time to return. I felled three solo graspers, and then ran into a group of three. Observing them, I noted than one of their number was actually a grasper goblin as well. Ignoring possible hierarchical complications, they were swiftly eliminated.
With an overwhelming sense of accomplishment, I threw the spear I had been using to fight into a tree. Laughing out loud, I giddily scooped up the bodies. Gloating too loudly, though it wasn't quite evening, I ran back towards the village. The shouts of joy attracted a few too many opponents, but gleefully laughing and cursing at them in turn, I made for the village.
Ahahaha, you goblins are newb food! So long as I hunt you, I can build myself up atop a mountain of your corpses! Upon my return, you will find yourselves shaking in fear before my awe inspiring presence!
I’d reached Level 3!
A/N:AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! I just realized how much this resembles Mr. Lyle. That’s okay, Mr. Lyle is great.