Several new skills had appeared that he could take with his two skill points.

Available Skill Points (2)

Shield Mastery (Basic) (1)

Sword Mastery (Basic) (1)

Strike (Basic) (1)

Evasion (Basic) (1)

Sense (Basic) (1)

Fortitude (Basic) (1)

Reinforcement (Basic) (1)

Recovery (Basic) (1)

Resistance (Basic) (1)

Multi-Tasking (Basic) (2)

Rapid Processing (Basic) (1)

Magic Sense (Basic) (1)

Ember Spark (Basic) (2)

Meditation (Common) (1)

The sword mastery had appeared just like he thought it might, but it wasn't a great idea since he was currently lacking a sword, and Dave was unlikely to give it back based on how much fun it looked like he was having. It also wasn’t the skill he had his eye on.

Skill: Ember Spark

Attribute – Intelligence

Rarity – Basic

Cost – 2 Skill Points

Harness the smallest flicker of flame, a spark that dances at your fingertips. Conjure and control small embers that deal minimal fire damage to single targets. Each level increases the intensity, range and control of the flames by 3% per level + 2% Intelligence.

Another 2-cost skill, which, on its basic description alone, would allow him to summon fire somehow. He was pretty sure the previous skill would be the Magic Sense skill; nothing else made sense otherwise, but he didn’t bother reading the skill description.

Without hesitation, he selected the skill. The very idea of being able to wield fire excited him but also filled him with ideas for how he could use it in the situation they were now in.

Instantly, he felt a warming sensation deep in his chest that slowly grew. With each breath he took, the feeling grew warmer. At first, a gentle warmth spread throughout his chest, like he had been drinking coffee or a hot chocolate on a cold day, but it quickly grew uncomfortable, then painful, as the heat consumed him.

He was burning from the inside out, the pain almost unbearable, yet he couldn’t move or scream. His body became locked, his muscles clamping down and refusing to cooperate. His lungs cried for air as he lost control of his body.

The fire then moved from his core to the outside of his body, his very skin and eyes seeming to be on fire. Tom’s eyes grew dark as he lost his vision. His hearing was filled with the sound of his own racing heart; everything else was drowned out by pain.

He started to panic. In his mind, Tom imagined his skin melting from the heat, eyeballs liquifying in his skull and evaporating into nothing, bones turning black as they charred before turning to ash, his hair igniting. His lips, nose and ears turned to wax, drooping down and running down his skin. Visions of what he once was being turned into a hairless, skinless thing and slowly melting into a puddle before turning to ash filled his head and he tried again to cry out.

He tried to force himself to move. The vision filling his head gave him the strength to fight against the prison that was his body. Straining against his locked muscles, desperate not to be locked in a tomb of his own flesh. Minutes passed as he struggled, trying to twist and turn, bend, kick, or move any part of his body, yet his body refused to budge.

Without his eyes or ears, he could not see or hear anything. He hoped that the others had noticed by now, not that they could do anything to help or, in the case of some of them, would do anything.

Suddenly, the heat left him, and he collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath as the muscles released their hold on him. His vision slowly returned, and he ran his hands over his body. Everything was just as it had been before: skin, muscles, bone, hair; nothing had been touched. It had all been in his mind, yet it certainly had not felt like it.

He felt odd, as if he was both too hot and too cold at the same time. He shivered, his muscles craving warmth and his fingers numb, even as he felt sweat beading on his forehead and under his arms. His hearing and smell returned in a rush of noise and sensations, hearing the slow shuffling of feet, the gasping of breaths, and the putrid stench of the room, which he had forgotten all about, returned in full force.

He turned and looked around for the others, wondering what had happened to them and why he was still alive after being essentially knocked out of the fight for an extended period. He found them almost precisely where he had last seen them.

Mark had taken off the shredded shirt he had been wearing and was in the process of tying it around his chest to try and stem the bleeding from the gashes the zombie had made. Adam was leaning on his sword, taking a breather as he looked at something with glazed-over eyes, probably checking something to do with his status or in a menu like Tom had just been. Dave, however, was charging at full speed, with Tom’s former sword awkwardly held over his head along with the torch, with both hands, towards the closest zombie. Tom wanted to laugh at how funny it looked. The 4 of them had struggled to kill 1, and he was going at it alone.

Tom looked around for the zombies. The closest one, the one being charged at by Dave, was still a good 6 or 7 meters away. The one beyond that was still about 15 meters away, and then the rest had started to clump up into groups of 2 or 3. The big one was still slowly making its way towards them, but it would take a while.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

All in all, it seemed only a few moments had passed in real-time, while for Tom, the agony had seemed to last for minutes. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, but he noticed something as he ran a hand over his chest. The fire that had consumed him before had left something behind.

A dull warmth sat in the centre of his chest, behind his ribcage, like a bed of coals buried beneath the sand. When he focused on it, it grew hotter and started to spread. He wasn’t sure how to use it or what it was, but he had a vague inkling of what to do. Trusting this feeling and recognising the invisible hand of his newly upgraded Insticts skill at work, he imagined the warm spot in his chest spreading through his body towards his left arm. Holding his palm up, he felt the hot sensation spread from his chest to his shoulder, following the path he had just drawn in his mind. He imagined it now flowing down his arm and into his hand, forming a pool in his palm, and the feeling followed, creating a river of warmth from his chest to his palm where it sat, gathering just below the skin.

Imagining that hot sensation now rising through his skin, he saw a tiny fireball begin to form in his palm. The instant that it formed, it started floating, hovering just above the skin of his hand. Just as the flame formed, he felt the warm sensation stretching from his chest leave him, like a rubber band being stretched and then released. All the warmth he had been feeling along the path he had made snapped away from the core of his chest and flowed out of his body and into the tiny flame.

The flame itself was no bigger than his pinky finger. It sat in the centre of his palm, just flickering. It didn’t give off any heat that Tom could feel, although he wasn’t sure if his body was still feeling the effects of before. Before he could inspect his flame any more, deep exhaustion spread throughout his body, leaving him feeling like he’d just pulled an all-nighter and badly needed to sleep. But he didn’t have time to rest. Not yet.

A high-pitched cry of anger caught Tom’s attention. Turning around, he saw that Dave had started to attack the zombie he had been running towards a moment before. Swinging the short sword at the zombie's outstretched arms. His cry had also alerted the other two. Mark had finished turning his shirt into a makeshift bandage and started walking towards where his axe had fallen. His blood was still seeping down his chest, but it looked to have been slowed by the big man’s first-aid efforts. The initial fear he had shown upon encountering the zombies had disappeared from his face, with his usual tight-lipped expression back in place.

On the other hand, Adam had finished whatever he had been looking at on his menus but hadn’t started moving yet. With his sword resting over his shoulder, he watched Dave begin his solo assault on the zombie.

With the rest of the zombies slowly approaching, Tom had to act. He had some time, but he didn’t know for how long. He didn’t know how long or how well Dave would be able to fight on his own, given that all their fights until now had been mostly group affairs.

He had two ideas that he hoped might help them kill the zombies faster and survive. The problem was he didn’t know if they would work like he wanted them to.

Struggling to his feet, his legs still feeling like jelly, he staggered forward after Mark while trying to keep his left arm steady. He wasn’t sure if the flame could go out, but he didn’t want to find out the hard way. Tom wasn’t sure if he could summon another flame based on how he was feeling. Looking back toward the weapons, he didn’t want the axe; that was Mark’s, and Tom had no wish to get between the big man and his axe. He wanted the spear, the weapon Dave had initially tried to force Tom to swap with at the beginning of the dungeon in the starting room.

Mark grabbed the axe and moved towards where Dave was fighting, experimentally swinging the axe and shield around.

Tom knelt to pick up the spear. Moving the short distance had already caused a painful cramp in his right thigh. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much exercise since high school.

He thought, as he grabbed the spear, that there was nothing like repeated exposure to life-threatening events to kick-start an exercise program.

Holding it out in front of him, he inspected the weapon.

Wooden Spear

An iron spearhead and wooden shaft.

Quality: Basic

Bonuses: None

Condition: 76%

It had taken a few knocks, but it was still in great condition for what Tom needed it for. First, he needed to test a few things. Taking his left hand and the flame floating on it, he placed it next to the spearhead. Next, using the same method he had used to create the flame, he tried to force the warmth in his hand to move and attach itself to the spearhead. He hoped that since the skeletons had reacted badly and died almost instantly to the fire from the torch he had jammed into its eye socket, the zombies would have a similar reaction or at least make killing them more manageable.

He had good reason to think that it would. Dave had hit the first zombie they had fought with his torch, leaving some sticky residue behind and setting fire to its skin. The body of the zombie had remained behind, unlike the bodies of the skeletons, and the burn mark was clearly visible on its shoulder. Small cuts, nicks and slashes had healed up and disappeared during the fight, but the burn mark was still there. Tom thought that if nothing else if they could burn a spot on the zombie and then attack that area, it might make a weak point they could exploit.

Tom imagined the warmth in his palm extending over to the spearhead, but the flame refused to move no matter what he tried. He tried the spear shaft next and had the same result. It seemed that once the flame was outside of his body, he appeared to lose the ability to manipulate it. Trying to get the flame to move, he imagined it returning to his body by having the warmth merge back with his hand. The flame shrank and disappeared back into his palm in a reverse of how it first appeared there. Tom could now feel the warmth back under the skin in his hand, it felt unnatural, like it didn’t belong there. Imagining the warmth flowing back up his arm and back into his chest where it had come from allowed him to move it back until it merged with the dull heat in the centre of his chest. As soon as it had merged, Tom’s body perked up like he had been given a shot of adrenaline. Instantly, the exhaustion he had been feeling disappeared, leaving only a slight tiredness behind instead of the full-blown exhausted state he had been in before.

He tried again; this time, he imagined the heat from the centre of his chest flowing down the arm to the hand and the spear itself instead of stopping at hand. But the same process occurred as soon as the heat left his hand. The flame formed in his palm; he felt the same exhaustion, and the flame stopped moving. Tom felt disappointed that his first idea had been a failure but didn’t have time to dwell on it too much; he could already hear Mark fighting behind him, which meant he needed to hurry up and get back into the fight.

Fortunately, he had thought of a backup plan when he first had this idea. Pulling the spare torch he had stashed in the back belt of his pants and began to unwrap the fabric from around the handle and wrap it around the back half of the spearhead, leaving the sharpened front uncovered. Once he had wrapped the fabric with its sticky pitch concoction around the spearhead and the top 15 cm or so of the handle, he repeated the earlier steps of creating the tiny flame. It was much easier this time; he’d barely had to think about it, and he’d been able to create the flame in his palm and use it to ignite his spear.

Getting to his feet, he held the spear in front of him. The flames were merrily dancing around the top of the spear where the fabric had been wrapped but hadn’t appeared to have set the wooden shaft on fire yet. There was no telling how long it might stay like that, however.

Looking back at the others, Tom could see that Adam had finally joined in the fighting. Between the three of them, they had killed the zombie Dave had started out fighting, but now they were facing down two slowly approaching zombies coming from opposite sides of the circular room with others closing in. Dave and Adam veered off to the side to tackle one, leaving Mark to take on another on his own.

Tom was glad. He knew he could fight well with Mark; they had proved that in the tunnels before. Setting his spear in a two-handed grip, Tom rushed after Mark. It was time to get back into the fight.