As it turned out, something found him first. A pack of Ash Prowlers emerged from behind one of the many ruins some time later, snarling at him. He still had the blood of their kin on his hands, so he supposed they were justified. However, all he saw was a free level, and a means to test himself. A single Prowler had been trivial, but what about five? Could he keep up with them then? Despite their higher level, he was more than a match for them individually, and his stats were likely higher than theirs.
“Come on then, you mangy pieces of shit! Come and taste my fist.”
It was a bit cliche, but he had been sent to Hell. Some melodramatic one liners were certainly in order. The insult incensed the monsters, and they charged in unison, barking and baying like hounds on the hunt. Only, Jonathan was the hunter here.
He ducked around the strike of one of the monsters, only to be caught by another one. Its teeth sunk into his shin, and struck bone. Jonathan shouted in anger, and pummeled the beast with his fist until it let go, bloodied and dazed. However, by that time, the others had surrounded him. This would be a harder fight than he had expected.
Jonathan leaped a meter up into the air, his muscles propelling him at a greater speed than he had expected. As far as he could tell, the progression of his stats were quite linear, and he estimated his strength at a bit over three times his previous state. As he leaped, the monsters aborted their attacks, waiting until he landed. That would prove to be a mistake.
Jonathan crashed down with twin balls of mana in his hands, sending them plunging deep into the skulls of two monsters. His momentum enabled the balls of power to sink deeper than they would normally, and they killed the monster’s instantly. Perhaps his mana was useful after all. Energy entered him, but it was not enough to bring another level. He had a suspicion that it would only get harder to level from here.
Blood splattered the ground, thick, black ichor that looked almost like molasses, causing the remaining three Prowlers to growl warily. The one that he had injured earlier yelped and turned tail, fleeing from Jonathan. As one of the Prowlers looked back, Jonathan pounced, bringing his fist down on its spine. Something cracked within it, and the beast fell to the ground. Behind him, the remaining one sunk its teeth into his back, but Jonathan ignored it, instead killing the beast in front of him with another blow. Whirling around, he punched the Prowler as hard as he could, sending it back a few paces. With a devastating front kick, it collapsed, dead.
Enough energy entered him to send him up another level, and his wounds healed over. With a smile, he contemplated his options for upgrades. With his newfound talent for mana manipulation, he wanted to invest a bit into Intelligence and Wisdom, which both impacted the resource. He had discovered, through trial and error, that Wisdom impacted the regeneration rate of mana. Adding stats to both would increase the amount that he had to play with. His Strength was far enough ahead that he didn't need to add any more.
Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.
With that in mind, he placed six points into Wisdom and Intelligence, bringing them up to 32 and 34 respectively. Jonathan closed his status screen and looked around him, noting that there was a strange light in the distance. Could that be what he was looking for, civilization? In any case, it was better than wandering around the Ash Heaps until he died of hunger and thirst. On that topic, he had not eaten or drunk in the better part of a day, not counting the time he had spent during his descent, and his mouth was parched. Now that he noticed it however, it became far worse.
Jonathan began walking, ignoring the gritty ash beneath his feet and the desolate landscape around him. If he focused on his predicament, he would only be discouraged. Instead, he concentrated on his mana core, trying to eke out as much knowledge from it as he could. He was slowly becoming addicted to his mana manipulation skill, and it was the closest thing to real magic that he had access too. In fact, it was so addicting, that he lost himself in it fully, leaving himself open to an attack.
A dull and muted thump on his left leg barely startled him out of his fugue, and it was only because of the warm liquid that he felt running down it that he snapped out of his meditation. There was a filthy, rat-like monster gnawing at his leg, tearing off great strips of flesh with each flash of its curved incisions. The thing was about two or three times larger than a rat from Earth, and it had two curved horns that extended up past its head.
Jonathan howled in pain and shook his foot desperately, trying to dislodge the creature. This was to no avail however, and it held on fast. Jonathan gritted his teeth, and pushed his mana through his leg, sending a burst of blue fire out of the skin. It burnt his leg severely, but it also cauterized his wound, and injured the rat at the same time. Overall, a win.
The rat fell backwards, smoking lightly, and Jonathan reached down, snapping its neck. The amount of energy that he got from it was beyond pitiful, but any bit helped. He didn't even bother reading the notification that formed on its death. He did not care what the creature’s name was. In the grip of an intense hunger, he briefly eyed up the corpse, wondering if it was edible. The oozing yellow liquid that he saw spurting out of the rat as it died caused him to abandon that course of action. He might have relinquished most of his old world morals, but just because he had gone almost entirely wild, it didn't mean that he had to eat like a wild man either. No, he was better than that. Whatever was at that beacon in the distance, it would be salvation.
That was the mantra that he kept playing in his head as he wandered, and before long, he was drifting along, lost in a stupor of energy deprivation. He wandered across the ash for some time, unaware of his surroundings. Many of the rat creatures tried to attack him, but he fended them off unconsciously, his skin blazing with bright light as they came close. As he wandered, his mastery of his mana slowly increased, and he eventually ranked it up to the next tier of Novice rank. He was barely aware of that, only recognizing it briefly. Instead, he just kept on walking, and walking, and walking.
Over the next day, he slowly became weaker and weaker until he could barely put one foot in front of another. Each time that he came close to failing however, he was reminded of his purpose by the blinking quest in his interface, the one telling him that he would break Hell. That, and nothing else, was what kept him going in the face of disaster. Finally, he collapsed, unable to continue any longer. His tongue was like a length of sandpaper, and his skin was dried up from the heat of the air around him. Even though his mind and will could keep going, his body couldn't keep up. With that, he drifted into an uneasy slumber, nestled up against one of the ash drifts.