“I don't like him.” Amy complained, moving to scootch over. Mark put his hand on her shoulder, stopping her from leaving the bed. “I don’t like him!”
The boy on the other side of the room cringed, closing the curtain surrounding his bed. He shot the boy an apologetic look before he disappeared. “Amy, be kind.”
His voice was stern, as stern as he could make it under the circumstances, and she looked at him with pleading eyes. “Why can’t I go back to my own room?”
‘Because it costs too much, and we’re broke.’
“Because the doctor said you need to socialise. I agree with her, so try to be nice?”
Amy huffed, crossing her arms. She looked so normal at times like this, but the doctor said the worst was yet to come. Looking back he wished he’d saved his money for when she turned bad.
When her muscles stopped working and she needed intravenous feeding just to stay alive. Their doctor had been patient when she explained it all to him, even when he’d started yelling.
“I’ll try, daddy.” She promised, pouting. “But I want ice cream!”
“All the ice cream you can eat, little one, and then some.”
Lying to her was getting easier. Mark smiled as she hugged him, hating himself more than he ever had.
----------------------------------------
“They’ve been in there for two days.” Greed pointed out. “There’s no telling what they picked up.”
Mark tapped his armour, three layers of metal and leather shifting as he turned. Chain over leather, plate over them both. “We have our own advantages.”
Guardsman’s Plate.
Durable. This armour will shrug off wear and tear, increasing its lifespan.
“I won’t fight.” The man said. “Levelling has been good to me, I won’t deny it, but I am and will remain neutral. If Pride, or any of them, wish to barter they will be free to do so.”
Lust eyed the man, muttering to herself. Mark only barely caught it. “Think he’d be more grateful.”
“That won’t be a problem.” He said, loud enough to cover her. “I trust that same neutrality will extend to us?”
Greed nodded, turning to look him in the eye. The man had to look down. “It will. I am not ungrateful, no matter what Lust thinks of me.”
Sloth waved at the portal. “Back to the matter at hand. If a fight breaks out, will you defend yourself properly? Wrath is monstrous in extended combat, even with our new armour.”
Cloth shifted, layers upon layers of fabric falling from her shoulders. It gave her an ethereal quality. Mark shrugged. “I won’t start it.”
“But you will end it, this time.” Lust said, her tone a warning. “I will accept your reasoning for last time, but not again. Not with how he’s been looking at me when no one's watching.”
Mark sighed, nodding. “But I will end it. Or try to, to maintain the facade of humility.”
“They could be in there for another week for all we know.” Greed dismissed, turning around and walking away. “I’ll set up camp.”
Sloth joined him before long, the temptation of sleep overcoming her need to observe. Lust stepped closer when she did, her tone soft. “One with stone still not maxed?”
Mark pulled up his status, shaking his head.
Name: Mark Dallton Class: Gluttony Level: 12 (116/240) Class skills (4):
Adaptable - Physical changes when eating, boosts def skills?
Durance - Buff timer times two.
Strong Stomach - Eat anything.
Consume - Anything eaten feeds well.
Cure - Five meats max, forty eight hours instead of three.
Uncaring killer - Better fighting with weapons, boosts attack skills?
Hunter - Better hunter, more damage to prey. Boosts hunting skills?
General skills (1):
Bought skills:
Pain Tolerance: level 5 (maxed)
Dodge: level 5 (maxed)
Hunting: level 5 (maxed)
Throwing: level 5 (maxed)
Footwork: level 5 (maxed)
Pugilist: level 5 (maxed)
Crafting: level 5 (maxed)
One with Stone: level 6
Useful skills:
Spear fighting (locked)
Club fighting (locked)
Knife fighting (locked)
Sword fighting (locked)
Quick reaction (locked)
Punch (locked)
Kick (locked)
Useless skills:
Rock fighting (locked)
Bone fighting (locked)
Foraging (locked)
Farming (locked)
Skinning (locked)
Campfire Cooking (locked)
Stonemasonry (locked)
Woodworking (locked)
Tailor (locked)
Tool Crafting (locked)
Weapon Crafting (locked)
Sneaking (locked)
Building (locked)
Carrying (locked)
Feature: Kill and eat, eat and survive.
‘Punch and kick, build and carry. Yet one with stone hasn’t maxed at five, has it?’
That had been a surprise, and not necessarily a good one. As useful as defensive skills were, he was itching to try out punch and kick. Especially with how they might combine with pugilist, though he had no proof they would.
Punch. Hit first, hit hard. This skill increases the speed and damage of your punches.
Kick. Hit first, hit hard. This skill increases the speed and damage of your kicks.
Nothing so interesting by their description, though he wouldn't discount them because of it. He looked at Lust, who had the second of the two. ‘And getting kicked by her is less than pleasant.’
Sparring with her had been a good idea, one of Sloth’s, if a little weird. She was fond of contact, her hand lingering a tad too long after forcing the air from his lungs. It would have brought plenty of awkwardness if he hadn't resolved to ignore it wholesale.
‘Plenty of problems without adding that one. Do what you do best, and be a coward.’ Mark snorted, making Lust raise her eyebrow. “Nothing important. Greed is right, this could take another week. Come on, we should get some lunch.”
“You are not eating raw rabbit again.” She insisted, not budging. “You spoiled Greed’s appetite last time, and I need him healthy so he can make me enchanted armour.”
“You have enchanted armour.” He pointed out, tapping his own plate. “Not my fault I’m better at hunting than you.”
Guardsman’s mail.
Durable. This armour will shrug off wear and tear, increasing its lifespan.
Guardsman’s leather.
Durable. This armour will shrug off wear and tear, increasing its lifespan.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“Though I’ll admit Greed being able to make enchanted armour has been a lifesaver. Literally, after that goblin with the broadaxe. Shame he can only do durable, but he has time. Not like he’s caught up yet, not in just two days. He’s, what? Seven, and Sloth six?”
Lust nodded after shooting him a glare, looking at the man where he was setting up camp. Her eyes flicked up and down. “Did he get taller again?”
“Probably. Won’t surprise me if he gets to seven feet at this rate.”
“Height isn’t everything.”
Mark grinned, tilting his head down to look at her. “Of course not.”
A punch to the ribs was her reply. Three layers of protection meant he barely felt it. “Funny man. You sure they didn’t get out before we got back?”
“Old tracks.” He shook his head. “So unless they learned to fly, not discounting anything at this point, they haven’t left.”
“Could have covered their tracks.”
He pointed to the ground, still rough and torn up from the fight. Even two days later it was easy to see where the bodies had fallen, or who had taken a blow based on footprints. “Not in this terrain.”
“I’ll defer to your weeks of expertise.”
“Don’t say it like that.” He complained, falling in step as she started walking towards Greed. “I know what I’m doing.”
No reply came, both of them walking in silence until they got to the growing camp. Greed had already set up three of the tents, a fire crackling as Sloth fed it more wood. They had to ration what they found, collecting sticks as they came across them, but they’d been moving enough that a fire for dinner wasn’t ludicrous. It helped that Sloth liked to nap near them and went out of her way to gather wood.
“Spar?”
Mark looked to the side, Lust having marked out an area with stones. It still caught him off guard how fast she could move, seeming to glide over the ground with alien grace. What prints she left were shallow, preferring to step on stones whenever she could. He shrugged. “Depends if lunch is ready yet. Greed?” A shake of the head was his answer, turning back to Lust. “Then sure.”
She held up her knife, identical to her normal one. This one didn’t have a razor’s edge, though, but it still hurt when she poked him with it. His cestus was likewise made of cloth, dampening what blows he landed. It meant they could spar hard, especially with Sloth here to heal them afterwards.
Nodding to show he was ready saw her run at him, her blade aiming to stab between plate and mail. The leather would still protect him, but he twisted out of the way all the same. Desire flooded his mind, distracting him for a key moment, and her knife scraped over his thigh.
He moved with it, jabbing at her torso to create space. She jumped back, rushing again the moment she got clear. Mark took a moment to breathe, letting the urge to grab fade. One with stone worked better than ever, his foot coming up to kick her leg as she got close. Lust blocked it, but wasn’t quite quick enough to dodge his punch.
She cried out in pain, a wounded, terrified sound, and he froze in panic. The blade came to his throat a second later, a smirking Lust looking up at him. His mind worked through the events, scowling down at her and noting how close she was. “That was foul.”
“It worked.” She disagreed, letting her power dissipate. “And with how much that skill is protecting you I need to adapt. Won’t work against monsters, but people have empathy. Misusing that seems right up my alley, honestly.”
He didn’t disagree. “You can take the blade away now.”
Lust let it hang for another second, cool steel pressing against flesh, before dancing back. “Again?”
Greed interrupted them an hour later, finally having finished roasting that goat. Aside from the heads goat twins looked normal and tasted fine. Especially when roasted with rendered bird fat, taking the stick from Greed with a nod of thanks.
‘No euphoria.’ His mind complained, biting down. The taste almost made up for it.
When the food was all gone, and Sloth had gone back to sleep, he nodded to Greed and waved at Lust. Hunting with her was fun, efficient, even, but what he needed now she couldn't find for him. Sharing experience wasn’t always worth it, they’d agreed.
‘Being able to find the object of your desire is such bullshit.’ He complained, strapping his pack tight. ‘Such utter bullshit.’
But she had little control over what she desired, and what he was looking for she didn’t care about. She cared about him finding it, sure, but she hadn't been able to make that work. So alone it was, peaceful quiet falling around him as he moved over mountains and valleys. One of the floating rocks was close, maybe a two hours walk away, and he hoped to find it there again.
‘Just one, don’t be greedy.’ He snorted at the pun, hopping on a boulder to take in his surroundings. ‘Just one giant, I know you can spare that much. I just want to take a closer look, maybe a bite. Perhaps his head, but that’s not too much to ask, right?’
It took hours, far longer than he planned for, but he found one. Or the tracks of it, leading over and away from the floating rock. Mark sighed, turning back. ‘No way I can follow it over that peak. Fuck.’
Dejected, but boosting his mood by killing and eating a very suicidal goat twin, he stretched as he passed a shallow peak. Mark froze, looking down and seeing a man climb toward him. One wearing full plate, trekking over the mountain with large steps. Mark pulled out his pouch, popping his last elemental rock and a piece of boar in his mouth. It wasn’t comfortable, keeping it there without chewing or swallowing, but better safe than sorry.
The man spotted him, correcting his path so they’d intersect. As he got closer Mark saw the enormous sword hanging from his back, no shield to be found. ‘Claymore? Fuck me, first time meeting another human and I’m alone?’
Approaching seemed unwise, and could be taken as hostility, so he stayed where he was. When the armoured stranger came within shouting distance he raised an arm, waving. “Hello! Please tell me you’re friendly.”
His voice came out muffled, having to talk past rock and meat, and Mark stopped waving when the man drew his sword. “I would really prefer to have a talk, instead.”
It started running, Mark’s smile dropping as he bit down. The boosts surged through him, his skin turning thick and grey as a minor bruise faded away. By then the stranger had come close, the sword almost singing as it came for his head.
He ducked, stepped inside the man’s guard and punching against steel. His knuckles complained, even through the cestus, but the stranger staggered. Only it hadn’t sounded like hitting armour. It sounded hollow, a sinking feeling invading his stomach.
The pommel smashed against his face, Mark dancing back as his nose broke and blood filled his mouth. He spit, widening his stance. It came as he stepped to the side, steel flying slower than he anticipated. Leaning to the side was enough to make the sword miss, moving to punch.
Mark had to raise his arm instead, the sword biting deep into his vambrace. The suit tugged, ripping its weapon free but not moving him much. ‘Not strong. Not fast. How?’
He stepped forwards again, blocking the next attack outright and landing his elbow against visor. It had turned to lessen the blow, changing its grip on the sword. The pommel came for his head again, Mark just too slow to dodge. He staggered back.
Shaking away the confusion cost him valuable seconds, having to duck and twist to avoid another swing. It hadn’t changed how it gripped the sword, using it as an improvised club. Mark cursed as it clipped his shoulder, the force jerking him aside.
But not as much as it should have, not with his increased strength, and he got a clean hit on its helmet in return. It flew off, revealing nothing much at all. ‘Jesus hell.’
The suit turned to face him, not seeming concerned with its lack of head. Mark traded again, going for the shoulder. ‘Knock off its arms, cave in its chest. Disassemble it, if need be.’
Easier said than done, a faint being seen through and brutally punished. Mark recoiled as it nearly hit his eyes, pugilist urging him to counter. ‘And buy a helmet, you stupid child.’
He punched as he complained, ringing clear against steel and tearing the shoulder loose. Keeping a mental count told him he’d have another six or so seconds of strength, taking a hit to the shoulder as he tackled the armour.
Strength mattered more, here, and pugilist helped him with this sort of fighting. Rolling over the ground, punishing as best he could and trying to avoid being stabbed. The thing had drawn a knife when it lost its grip on the sword, stabbing with a precision that almost bypassed his layers of armour.
Almost being the key word, Mark managing to rip free an arm as his strength ran out. He forced the other one to the ground, putting his weight on it and clawing at the shoulder. It nearly buckled him with its legs, but the arm came free before it could.
Mark rolled, throwing it away and shaking his head. It had gotten a kick off as he rolled away, scraping past his neck. “What the fuck even are you?”
It stood with a roll, climbing to its feet in a move Mark wasn’t sure he could copy. Without arms this fight was over, luckily, and he rammed it full speed as it tried to kick.
Tearing another leg free was easy enough, if time consuming without enhanced strength, but it didn’t slow. Nor did it when it was limbless, Mark straddling it. His knuckles were bloody by the time the steel caved, the enchantment of his cestus doing most of the heavy lifting. It stilled, finally, and he rolled off it and to the floor.
For killing a Hollow Suit you have been granted ten experience.
General Skills have gained forty experience.
One with Stone has increased to level seven.
“What the fuck.” Mark panted, forcing himself to sit. He took a finger from the arm, having fallen not far away. “This better give me something worth the hassle.”
Hollow Suit consumed. Fighting skill has been improved with Fighting Spirit.
Fighting Spirit will be active for two and a half minutes.
He stood, slowly, as he pushed from the floor. The stone he used as leverage sunk into the ground, far deeper than it should have, and he shook his arm.
‘That feels weird.’ He admitted, jumping a little. He didn’t even clear the ground, crashing back down and nearly falling. ‘It makes me heavy?’
Mark punched, a simple set of moves that pugilist had made feel so natural, and he noticed no decrease in speed. A grin took over his face, looking down at the suit. ‘Heavy without being slow. No jumping, though. Yea, worth the hassle.’
Three pieces of it went in his pouch, cured and ready for later use. Only two boar meats remained, he resisted the urge to eat one and heal, and his elemental stone’s were used up entirely. Mark grinned anyway. Evening had come, the sun disappearing past a mountain top, so he picked up the suit's leg.
Eating as he walked gave him some practice, the heaviness a strange boost to his strength. He wasn’t stronger, not really, but he also was. More weight behind his punches and kicks, caving in the chest of another goat twin before it could do much of anything. Mark shook his head, dropping the leg when its timer ran out. ‘Need to find another boar.’
When he finally got back to camp he found an annoyed Greed waving at him, pointing at three people lying on bedrolls. Pride looked bad, missing a hand and his face not nearly as pretty as it used to be. Wrath was sitting, rolling her shoulder in a way he found familiar. ‘Lost the arm.’
“You fucking skank whore, I know what you want!” Envy spat, twisting to glare at Lust. The woman was missing much of her hair, ugly burns spreading down her back. Lust raised an eyebrow, tapping her knife in what seemed to be a considering motion. “You can’t have him, he’s mine! Mine!”
Mark stepped forwards when Lust’s hand stilled, seeming to have decided. “Envy, silence.”
The woman's mouth clicked shut, his tone hard enough she listened. Then she glared, risking a look at Pride. Envy’s jaw set, as if to speak again. “One word, Envy, and you’ll sleep till dawn.”
He moved past, dismissing her with a wave. Pride gurgled something, his eyes landing on Mark’s approaching frame. “I suggest not talking. Let Sloth heal you, then you can explain exactly what the fuck you where thinking going at it with just the three of you.”
Wrath stood as Pride tried to talk, patting his shoulder and grabbing her axe. Mark turned, seeing the look in her eye. She spoke before he could. “You owe me a spar, Gluttony.”
Mark sighed deeply, his face going blank as his fingers went to his pouch. “You know what, you’re absolutely right. I’ve tried being patient, understanding, but to come back to this? You, sitting there as if nothing is wrong, even as Envy is doing her level best to commit suicide? No. Come.”
He moved to the sparring square, still intact from where he’d fought against Lust that morning. Wrath followed quietly, stretching her new arm as her axe dangled from the other. “Kindly confirm you’re in top health. I don’t want to have to do this again in another two days.”
A grunt was his answer, so he put a piece of metal and meat between his teeth. ‘Anger spikes her strength, the longer she fights the stronger she gets. End it quick or she beats you, and this party is done for.’
Wrath surged and he bit, stepping into the overhead blow and raising his arm to block the shaft. Steel complained as wood crashed against armour, but his arm barely moved. A punch to the torso forced her back, her axe coming to cleave his shoulder off.
He danced to the side, kicking her knee and forcing her to the ground. She was up in a flash, rolling away and whipping her weapon to create space. Mark leaned back, the blade scraping past his torso, and landed a blow on her shoulder. Pain bloomed in his chest, ignoring it with some effort.
She jerked back, her leg kicking out and forcing him to abandon his charge. He used the momentum to roll, the timing so perfect part of his mind boggled. Grabbing her legs dragged her down, his weight too much for her strength to handle. Then they were on the floor, his fist flying.
Blood splattered as her jaw broke, her eyes unfocussing even as she gripped her axe. Mark put a foot on it, bringing his cestus down on her shoulder. Once, twice, before her grip relaxed.
Then she stilled entirely as his knife rested against her throat, the fight going out of her frame. “Are we done, Wrath?”
She didn’t answer, so he pressed the knife a little deeper. She nodded, averting her gaze. “Good. Get some healing from Sloth when she's done with Pride and Envy.”
Mark stood, forcing himself to breathe slowly. ‘At least a broken rib. Act normal.’
He ate his last cured meat when the timer ran out, moving over to Pride with a casual gait. The man had propped himself up to watch, his eyes clear even as his face lay in ruin. Mark bent over the man, Wrath climbing to her feet. “Don’t ever initiate a spar without my consent again.”
Pride glanced at his red teeth and bloodied hands, seemed to consider the look in his eye, then nodded once.