By the time I woke up my mana had gone up to 95, so I’d taken a respectable eight-hour nap. Both physical speed and magical endurance had ticked up by one, however, much like going to the gym it was hard to give a shit when the effects weren’t immediately noticeable. I wasn’t much of an early-bird either, or any kind of time associated bird really, so I procrastinated before engaging in a long day of walking and Errant slaying. I supplemented breakfast with a bunch of jerky and examined my piece of magic bamboo. I hadn’t gotten the entire thing despite sawing it off at the base. Once I severed it, nearly the entire stalk disintegrated and left me with just a single piece which I estimated to be 30 centimeters in length.

Sticks were fascinating. Everyone who had ever owned one knew it. Most people grew out of it but that wasn’t a philosophy with my support. I believed in embracing my inner child, to the point it repressed my inner adult. Deeply. I was quickly running out of maddening thoughts to entertain – was really jonesing for a smoke – and decided to continue onwards. Didn’t have much else to do anyway. Any Errant on my path today were utterly fucked because nicotine withdrawal made me violent. Today I would melee. It wouldn’t be satisfying enough otherwise.

I’d been going a little slower than usual to try and be as quiet as someone with a backpack full of stuff could be. Although I didn’t wear the thing since I needed to be able to drop my things at zero notice. I made a little carrier bag out of my winter jacket towards that end. It wasn’t cold enough to regret not wearing it.

It took over an hour before I came across my first victim. I bet the fucker was sneaking too because it hadn’t made a single noise. It rounded a corner about 3 meters in front of me and emerged from the left. I suffered a minor heart attack and dropped my carry-on luggage when I saw its paw-thing. The sound echoed in the hallway and sounded the starting shot. I froze, while the paw grabbed onto the corner. Eternity compressed and I saw the claw sink into the stone with astonishing, primal violence.

Before I realized what happened, a short screech like nails on chalkboard announced the rest of the Errant when it rounded the corner and catapulted diagonally towards where wall and ceiling met to my right.

I only managed to manifest a sword in my right hand as the blur bounded diagonally again, towards… my left this time. I barely tracked it but rather than take aim, I’d backstepped reflexively as hard as I could, vainly hoping to create distance. Huge fucking mistake. I was in the air and the beast clearly recognized opportunity when its quarry presented itself on a silver platter. Another violent brace was accented by shattered stone and the monstrosities’ hard leap closed two thirds of the distance between us in an instant, while bladed extremities reached for me while I’d only managed to angle my projectile slightly.

Panicked reflex took control of my body and caused me to do nothing but slam my feet onto the floor mid dodge. The sudden anchoring clashed with my rearward momentum, and pitched me backwards in what would soon become an uncontrolled tumble. In a singular moment of clarity I finished lining up my shot and wildly thought ‘Launch launch launch!’ as the last remnants of balance left me. The weapon wrenched out of my hand in a flash and time slowed when it impaled the Errant point blank through the chest at an upwards angle, mercilessly disrupting its graceful pounce in a spray of black blood. Fuck, I flinched from the violent clang and crossed my arms in front of my face, reinforced by the flats of twin magic swords.

The impact slammed me into the ground, luckily I’d been practicing the maneuver and it paid off. I successfully stored my improved shields before starry lights polluted my vision as the back of my head become intimate with the hallway floor. I was barely cognizant of the scratch and shuffle of something moving nearby. Survival instinct alone drove me to roll over so I could look ahead and extend my arm at the beast now several meters in front of me with a gaping hole in its chest, dark liquid poured out and evaporated with unnatural speed. Shit. It was still alive, but getting up in a far less energetic scramble than before.

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A flying sword interrupted its return to stability, this time it skewered the creature lengthwise with the telltale high pitched whine of metal on metal friction. That put it down and the smoke from open wounds sizzled. I breathed hard as the tide of my swimming vision settled. Adrenaline slowly settled down in-between furtive glances up and down the hallway. My interface confirmed some level of safety at least. I immediately ignored any discomfort and touched the first sword, still embedded in the ceiling nearby, and then went for the one still stuck in the killing machine. A short surge of maddening euphoria passed through me and I couldn’t believe I was still alive. What the fuck was that thing?

Its appearance hadn’t registered due to the chaos of combat in what couldn’t have been more than a few seconds of fighting. I felt sick in my stomach once the events solidified in my mind, even though the acute effects of my concussion faded away rapidly. To my surprise I didn’t feel any liquid or stickiness on the back of my head. My arms were fine somehow, aside from the telltale greenish blue of a heavy bruise on my left wrist… Shock faded away with the realization; my left arm was definitely not fine. I finally took a proper look at my would-be killer while shaking off the hurt.

Jesus fucking Christ. It was ‘roided out and covered in full plate armor. Like a medieval knight who’d modeled his armor according to his inner thoughts, which had never evolved past the age of 14 and were perennially stagnant in the dark and edgy phase, then transformed into an animal born from nightmare.

This wasn’t like anything I’d seen before. It was entirely black and looked the same size I’d imagine a tiger to be and just as four-legged. The similarities ended there. It had no tail and its head was a triangular shape, not unlike a lizard - although those didn’t have catlike ears. A quick tap with my weapon confirmed the hardness, likely a kind of natural armor, with no mouth from the looks of it.

It was covered in the stuff, rare glimpses underneath showed skintight corded muscle. It had two pairs of yellow slit eyes on its head, with one set facing forward and the other set to the sides. Both pairs were covered by thin strips of armor, reminding me of a certain type of sunglasses. Many of the plates had bladelike protrusions running across them lengthwise which easily sliced into a sacrificial wooden cube, its claws were like extended daggers and closer to straight blades rather than the expected animalistic half-moon curve. Some testing revealed they were just as retractable though.

I’d been insane thinking melee would ever be an option and far too intoxicated from slaughtering my way forward - at least the beginnings of a proper fighting style solidified in my mind. I also learned something I hadn’t considered before on account of being down 20 mana. I finally condensed the damn thing and it was five out of five. Five energy, bonemetal and manual were the options, so par for the course.

I had a little decision to make that might significantly impact my future. I clearly had a screw loose for even considering it, but fucking off and never looking back could be the wrong choice here. So far, the nasties aboveground seemed a lot more terrifying than the ones here in the tunnels. The situation changed with this fucker, yet the terrain favored me. I probably couldn’t have killed this thing if it had more room to maneuver or, System forbid, more terrain elements to use as a springboard. I was clueless about what lurked in the bamboo thicket aside from the trees, but there was a good chance it would take me by surprise in more ways than one. At least I knew what I was up against here.

Reluctantly, I accepted the reality of my situation. The Errant were everywhere and I’d better start getting a handle on fighting or I might as well just give up now. I’d been decent enough at hand-to-hand once upon a time, but those skills and instincts didn’t carry over. They barely even existed. There was no life or death in a boxing ring. If I accepted fighting as the new normal, then I’d need some proper armor eventually. My denim jeans and green sweater were woefully inadequate as anything more than casual wear.

Shit. I wasn’t built for this kind of crap. The thought of repeat death matches made me physically ill and survival instincts dictated I swallow down the rising acidic mush. Facing down your fears wasn’t easy, and I was plenty afraid of death. But the same damned part of me which enjoyed a good spar told me I could win again, no matter how hard I tried to hunt down and kill it.

The war within settled, lost by the side that was supposed to make me realize I knew better than to entertain these ideas, thus it was dragged behind the shed and shot in the head.

I would go on. I would fight. I would survive.

I would thrive, if fate allowed.

If not, I would die.

Again.