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Labyrinth of the Mad God [An Isekai LitRPG] (Book 2 Complete)
Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Six: Level Eight

Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Six: Level Eight

Then, for the last time on the Searing Isle, Nick pulled up his full profile, marveling at how much he’d grown since waking up on the beach with his memory in tatters.

Contestant Profile: Nicholas “Nick” Henry.

Level: 8.

Tier: 1.

Species: Human of Earth (E).

Class: Survivor (Basic).

Base attribute points per level: 0. Free points per level: 1.

Attributes

Strength: 7 Dexterity: 7 (9) Toughness: 7 (11) Mind: 8 (10) Creativity: 7 Charisma: 5 Magic: 2 (4) ??? ???

Abilities

Ability slots: 2 active, 1 passive, 1 free.

Active abilities: Mana Dart (spell).

No passive abilities have been acquired.

Class Traits

Survivor: You require 25% less food, water, oxygen, and sleep.

Geneline Traits

Gift of Tongues: You can understand and speak the languages of all intelligent creatures.

Awakened to Magic: +1 to Magic.

Versatile: +1 to all attributes. +1 free ability slot.

Bloodline Traits

None.

Skills

Wand: 5

Size Up: 10

Foraging: 9

Inventory (Common and above)

Explorer’s Boots (Common).

Kastillan Dagger (Common).

Adventurer’s Toolbelt (Uncommon). Modifications: Self-maintenance.

Charm of Muffling (Uncommon).

Pugilist’s Gloves (Uncommon). Modifications: Durable.

Adventurer’s Coat (Uncommon). Modifications: Durable. Self-maintenance.

Cloak of Thermal Regulation (Uncommon). Modifications: Self-maintenance.

Bag of Molding (Uncommon).

Wand of Force (Uncommon). Modifications: Soulbound. Skill activation (Wand).

??? Sword.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Eventually, Nick turned away from the screen and returned his attention to his preparations and recovery. The tutorial wasn’t over yet, and he was certain that the System had something special in store for its final hours. As dusk fell, the shadows grew thick, and the water stopped rising at last, stopping just short of flooding the ring of dry stone surrounding the summit.

After a final heave, the island settled into a stable configuration with a grinding that Nick could feel deep in his bones. The sinking had been slowing down for hours now, and he was relieved to see that the process was finally over. Looking out over the top of the web-woven barricade, he took in the sight of waves lapping against the narrow band of stone that bordered the summit like the rim of a cup.

A brief battle ensued when a final group of beasts completed the climb at the last possible moment, fighting to claim the last bits of open ground. Apparently, a handful of the komos in the third valley had survived, along with a flock of the rabbit-like critters he’d seen a few times. Fortunately, the frogs had been few in number to begin with, and only a couple of them were left.

Nick didn’t bother to watch the melee. Similar squabbles had been taking place ever since he’d set foot onto the summit. However, few of the creatures had decided to launch an attack on the web-forts and their occupants in favor of challenging the beasts huddled in less defensible positions. None of the frogs attacked their position, and the lemurs standing guard were more than capable of dealing with a few scattered komos.

He would have been willing to lend them a hand anyway. But his leg was throbbing and hurt like hell, thanks to his rough journey up the mountainside aggravating his injuries. Besides, the Elder seemed all right with Nick taking the night off, and he wasn’t inclined to refute her kindness. He propped his head against his magic pack, stretching out while peering through the gaps in the web-woven fortress.

This left him in the unusual position of watching the final hours of his survival tutorial on the Searing Isle tick past from a position of relative safety. It gave him a chance to reflect on what a long, strange trip his last month had been. He had changed more in the last four weeks than he had in the previous four years. Growing not only in the numbers listed on his profile but in myriad, less tangible aspects as well.

Nick had gone his whole life trying to avoid conflict whenever possible. Now, he’d grown used to experiencing turmoil on a daily basis. He even found himself savoring aspects of his new life—the excitement of making his way into a dangerous, magic-filled multiverse. He had even learned to enjoy combat, although he took no pleasure in inflicting death and pain. An insight that would have shocked his prior self all the way down to the core.

Over the last, danger-filled month, he had learned to live off the land. How to fight for his life. He had honed his body and mind in ways that he’d never dreamed possible. Most remarkable of all, Nick had gained the ability to wield the force of magic, like the characters he had played in his games.

Now, he was leaving a life filled with games behind him forever, stepping into a new reality that was shockingly similar in certain aspects and radically alien in others. Stranger still, he had begun to internalize that this was only the beginning of his transformative journey. Assuming he survived, if Nick kept walking down this path, he would one day look in the mirror and discover that he’d become someone beyond the boundary of his imagination.

When he stepped through the portal tomorrow, he would begin searching for a way back home, helping humanity adapt to their new life as part of the System. To begin exploring the Labyrinth, the realm of Taltos, the Mad God. A bizarre being utterly beyond his understanding.

He only hoped that he was ready to rise to the challenge.

Nick savored the last fading glory of the most spectacular sunset he had ever seen, then nodded to himself. While his wounds still ached, his stamina and mana had begun to recover. He was ready to face the night and everything that would follow with the breaking of dawn. Despite his determination, the twilight hours proved to be even more peaceful than the dusk that had preceded them. Every beast on the island had fought long and hard to reach this point, and each desperately wanted to rest while they could. Battered and bloody, the survivors of the tutorial huddled together for warmth, waiting for the sun to rise.

With Bandit at his side, Nick set his head against his pack, staring up at foreign constellations spanning the limitless heavens. Searching for the pale blue dot of the world of his birth. His thoughts were filled with memories of the people he had lost. Of a home that was so far away. Nick drifted in and out of consciousness, straddling the boundary between dream and waking life, as the timer over the portal ticked down toward zero.

He knew that he should be using these final moments to plot and plan. To eke out any advantage that he could in the little time he had left. But he was simply too exhausted to bring his thoughts into focus. He let his mind drift as he took in the surreal scene playing out before his eyes.

He must have fallen asleep eventually. When Nick opened his eyes, the cries of seabirds arose to accompany the lapping of the waves, and he knew that dawn was not far off. He rose to his feet, glad to discover that the pain in his leg had diminished during his rest. He polished off the last of his provisions, waved good morning to the Elder, then turned to look at the portal. The time on the clock was now just a few seconds shy of four hours. Enjoying the relative peace engulfing the summit, he hoped that the final minutes of the tutorial would be as peaceful as the hours that preceded them. But matters were not fated to be resolved so simply.

Instead of glowing red with the coming of dawn, the horizon remained as dark as ink. Nick pulled out his spyglass and took a long look at the place where sea met sky. When he realized what he was looking at, a bolt of fear shot down his spine, filling his veins with electric adrenaline and icy dread.

Streaking toward the summit of the Searing Isle was a raging searstorm that put the others he had seen to shame. The eastern skyline roiled with angry, green clouds—a nebulous host, filling the air from sea to stratosphere. Purple lightning erupted without cessation within the brooding stormfront—wild, horizon-spanning bolts, each containing the unbridled fury of nature’s wrath.

He lowered his spyglass as a sinking feeling arose within his chest, just as the first lick of hot wind brushed his cheek like a lover’s caress. The churning storm was mingling with the atmosphere above, drawing in air that was warm and wet, like the breath of a living creature.

Nick had been hoping that the next storm would strike after the tutorial was over. Tracking the progress of the army of clouds, he became certain that his hopes were in vain. By now, he could feel the pressure dropping by the heartbeat from somewhere deep inside his ear.

“Well…” He turned to Bandit, who was looking out with a grim expression plastered on his furry face. “Shit,” he concluded, as there really wasn’t anything else to say about the matter. Bandit let out an aggravated whuff that Nick correctly interpreted as agreement.