As I entered the fog, my nose was filled with a bitter, metallic scent that made my eyes water. I was also greeted with a notification.

Welcome to your first Delve! Now Initiating user interface. You may customize the interface by concentrating on the element you wish to change.

A series of colored bars appeared at the lower edge of my vision: Red, green, and blue. I assumed they followed standard gaming conventions with red for health, green for stamina, and blue for mana. Above the health bar there was a small skull and crossbones and when I focused on it, text appeared beside it that read “Poisoned, Toxicity: 12/hour”.

I assumed that ‘Toxicity’ told me how much damage I was taking from the poison, since that matched up with the math Varrin had done earlier. I briefly wondered why he’d done math if he had access to the same type of interface. Were his notifications different, or did I have access to different information?

To my upper left was a list of party members, but the only information presented beyond their names was the same skull and crossbones symbol. Each revealed identical text to my own when I focused, “Poisoned, Toxicity: 12/hour”. Another notice appeared, and I paused to read it.

You have entered Delve 1156: The Toxic Grotto.

Difficulty: Platinum

Current accumulation level: 0.5

This Delve’s accumulation has been interrupted. Find and eliminate the cause of the disruption to clear the Delve.

Reward: Early mana distribution.

Time Remaining: 23 Hours, 55 minutes.

The notification used a lot of language that I was sure was shorthand. The difficulty was platinum, nothing new there, but what made a Delve platinum? Was it the accumulation level? Sayil’s reaction to the difficulty made me think there was more to it, but I had no idea what an accumulation level even was. Maybe it also had to do with the clear condition, which I was happy to see, even though it didn’t provide a lot of information. I liked having a clear objective. As for the reward, what was an early mana distribution? I filed those questions away and continued down the steps.

The stairs were damp and had patches of mossy growth that made them slick in places. I stepped down carefully, feeling my body move with an unfamiliar level of grace and precision. My worn leather boots felt like they still had good tread, and although my progress was slow, I made my way down without incident.

As I descended, the stairwell grew gradually darker, until round orbs emitting soft light started to appear. They were set into the walls at regular intervals and I stopped to examine one, finding that it felt cool to the touch, with a surface like smooth rock. I moved on quickly to keep up with my party, but I was curious about what powered the rock lights.

As we reached the bottom, the corridor opened up into a much wider space. The glowing orbs were set into the walls and along the ceiling, providing a gentle level of illumination. Despite this, the omnipresent green fog made it difficult to see more than thirty or so feet away. The rest of the group had come to a stop, and I stepped forward to join their huddle. Varrin spoke softly.

“Have any of you heard of the accumulation being interrupted before?”

“No,” said Xim. The others shook their heads as well.

“Kill the freaks,” said Chilla. “That’s usually the objective. But I’ve heard of others, like investigating unusual mana sources or reactivating ancient devices.”

“Sure,” said Sayil, “but those are usually found in special-difficulty Delves.” His fur had grown wet and stringy from the fog.

“This isn’t a special, though,” said Varrin. “We should still expect hostiles. We’ll treat it like a normal Delve, just keep an eye out for anything unusual.” He wiped a trickle of green liquid from his brow, then donned a steel helm. “Chilla, take the lead and move us along the left wall. We’ll stay back, but keep within visual range. Sayil, move side by side with me. Xim, stick behind us next to the esquire.” Varrin turned to look me in the eye. “Stay close, don’t wander off, and be quiet unless something is trying to kill you.”

“Even then,” said Chilla, “try not to make too much noise.”

I nodded and gave a thumbs up, then the group fell into formation and began moving. Chilla walked about twenty feet ahead of us, her form half obscured by the fog. She moved with careful steps in a slight crouch, bow drawn and arrow nocked. As we walked I kept an eye on the surroundings, wondering what sorts of things could live down here in the middle of a bunch of deadly mist.

The walls and ceiling were rough and uneven, looking as though they were formed within a naturally occurring cave. There were also stalactites hanging down from above in a few places, but the floor of the space had clearly been modified. It was flat and had an intentional grain to it. I bent down to look more closely, seeing tiny grooves cut into the floor, so regular and precise that I would have guessed they were machined. It reminded me of the type of flooring you’d find in factories or other industrial buildings, where it was important to keep workers from slipping.

I noticed Varrin and Sayil slowing, and looked ahead to see Chilla with one fist in the air. We came to a stop and she backtracked to us slowly, then whispered.

“Freaks ahead. Look like Stickmen, but it’s tough to tell with the fog.”

Varrin nodded. “How many?”

Chilla shrugged.

“I can make out four, but there might be more.”

“Ok. Return to position and wait one minute, then see if you can pull them with an arrow.”

Chilla turned and crept forward again without a word. Varrin gently placed his pack on the ground, the others following suit, and I put down the bag I was carrying as well. Varrin turned back to me and Xim.

“You two get that?”

Xim nodded, but I needed to know more. The group already thought I was ignorant, and rightfully so. It wasn’t safe to try and conceal how unfamiliar I was with what was happening, although I wasn’t about to try and explain that I was from a different world altogether. If I did that, the best case scenario is that this sort of thing happened a lot here and I’d get a small welcome gift.

On the other hand, maybe outsiders were feared and burned as witches. I was surrounded by four heavily armed and armored individuals. I didn’t want to accidentally provoke any strange prejudices. Most likely they’d think I was a loon, or playing an exceptionally vicious prank. Either way, I decided that further exposing my ignorance was safer than going into a fight with next to no information.

“What are Stickmen?” I asked. Varrin frowned, but looked as though he’d already accepted my naivete.

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“They’re creatures about as tall as a grown man,” he said. “Their body is thin, flexible, and light, but covered in tough skin, so it’s difficult to get a good hit on them. They attack with two long front legs that have hard points and inject you with venom.” He looked over my threadbare clothes. “Try not to get hit.”

He turned back to the front and drew his sword. Sayil stood with his spear ready, and Xim held up her shield, scepter held back and low. I didn’t know what to do, so I took up a boxing stance. Xim eyed me, but then focused back on the dark shape of Chilla without comment.

Chilla let loose an arrow with a soft twang, stood and watched for a brief second, then turned and hurried back toward the group. A baleful screech came from behind her, then dark, lanky creatures became visible through the fog, darting toward us.

I tried to count them as they emerged, but lost track at a dozen. Their bodies were long and unnaturally thin, with two short hind legs and two lengthy front legs, each as long as my entire body. The front legs were segmented like a spider’s, but ended in a slightly curved point the length of my torso, which dug into the ground as they galloped and crawled. Their skin was black and craggy, looking like tar-stained tree bark. They had small heads atop long, skinny necks, which were elongated and misshapen. They each had a single oversized eye which darted between the members of our group, and had mouths like a lamprey’s, circular and covered in needle-like teeth. Ichor oozed from the orifice.

A pair of the Stickmen closed the distance between themselves and Chilla, and the archer leapt into the air as one shot a claw toward her. She spun and soared over Varrin, landing in a crouch behind him, another arrow already nocked.

Varrin interrupted the attack from the first Stickman, leaning into the swipe with his shield, then bashing the creature away. He swung his sword in a backward sweep toward the second, and the blade skidded across the creature’s flesh, knocking off a few chunks of bark. It let out a screech and tumbled to the side, where Sayil was waiting with his spear. The beast-man thrust at the creature, which was off-balance from Varrin’s attack, and Sayil landed a strike on its joint. The spearhead dug deep and Sayil twisted it like a pry bar. The Stickman’s front leg tore off its body with a loud crack.

Before Sayil could follow up on the injured creature, two more drove toward him and he spun the spear, knocking away two sets of thrusting claws. Varrin intercepted attacks from another pair of Stickmen that had made it to our front line, their pointed limbs driving into his shield with loud thunks.

Chilla let arrows fly toward the creatures, but their thin bodies and quick movements made them hard targets. A couple arrows glanced across skinny torsos before a third struck true on a joint, causing the creature to stagger into a strong downward strike from Varrin, which ran along the back of the creature’s neck, catching on its head and cleaving off the top of its skull. It moved about drunkenly before crashing to the ground.

The trio did their best to hold the front line, but Sayil was forced aside, spinning his spear to knock away a half dozen thrusting claws, and more of the Stickmen poured into the gap between him and Varrin. The eyes of the newly arrived Stickmen spun and moved between me and Xim, one locking onto me and two more moving toward the cleric. I heard the sound of their pointed appendages crashing into Xim’s shield. The creature that had locked onto me gave a low, wet moan as it brought its front legs up, getting ready to drive them down into my body.

Now, I cannot express how much I did not know what I was doing. I had very little in the way of combat training. I had taken a grand total of one year of kickboxing lessons, and hadn’t even entered the ring with anyone other than my trainer. I wasn’t a fighter. Any time a situation had gotten heated enough that I thought violence might ensue, I either talked the person down or got the fuck out of there.

I’d taken the boxing stance because it was the only thing I knew to do. Beyond the fact that my understanding of the martial art was, at best, amateur, kickboxing was designed for use against a human opponent. My head was low to keep a fist from crashing into my jaw and laying me out. My arms and fists were up to intercept strikes and throw out jabs and straights. This leech-faced fuck didn’t have fists. I was trying to stop a pair of three-foot-long pickaxes with my forearms. It also wasn’t aiming for my face. Needless to say, my defense was… ineffective.

The pair of pointed legs lanced down at me. One struck straight between my forearms and the other to the outside of my right. I felt a moment of abject fear as the deadly limbs descended, followed by an overwhelming sense of calm. I had come close to dying a few times in my life, aside from the time that I actually, well, died. In each instance, the moment my brain accepts the imminent danger, it fucks right off with emotions like fear or panic. I shut down and immediately moved into damage control.

What can I do? How do I mitigate? It’s a characteristic I was proud of, having a cool head in an emergency. There was also an element of acceptance to it. If things don’t work out, if I actually bite it, then I did my best. No use worrying.

Both of the points slammed into my chest, nearly knocking me on my ass. But my footing was good and, despite the power behind the strike, I stayed upright. I gritted my teeth, waiting for a delayed sensation of pain to begin crushing my will, but it didn’t come. The claws didn’t feel good, but they didn’t hurt much either. It was like being roughly prodded with an umbrella. It didn’t do much damage, it just felt rude.

I confirmed this by glancing down at my health, which was still completely full. I glanced back up at the Stickman, who stared at me in what I like to believe was a moment of confusion. His claws had met soft, tender flesh, and it hadn’t done shit.

I swung hard with a right-handed straight, popping the monster right in its tiny little face. Despite the solid hit, I didn’t experience the satisfying, concussion-inducing thunk of a well-aimed blow. It felt more like punching a recoiling snake, or a green tree branch. There was no weight behind the creature’s head, so my attempt at delivering blunt-force trauma was useless.

There was another long moment where we stared each other down. In reality it was probably less than a quarter second of consideration, but in the middle of the adrenaline-fueled fight it felt long enough that I thought a tumbleweed was about to roll between us.

I seized the initiative and drove forward with a combination of strikes, but like the first, none of them found good purchase. The creature drove its limbs into my ribs and chest as I rotated my hips and leaned into every hook and straight. We may as well have been having a pillow fight.

I jumped back, surprised at the distance I cleared with the hop, and considered my options. At this point, an astute observer might notice, and perhaps loudly remind me, that I hadn’t used my Oblivion Orb. You know, the one ability I had that was explicitly designed to maim and slaughter my enemies. In my defense, it’s not like I came from a place where magic was an option so, when I flipped into fight or flight mode, that tactic wasn’t among the very short default list of things I could do to not die. However, after leaping back like an olympic athlete competing in the GTFO olympics, I was reminded that I was not limited to the mundane options and abilities available to my previously puny human form. I didn’t know how to use the spell, but I had an idea about how to apply it.

The creature skittered toward me and I rushed to meet it. I had a plan. That plan, however, failed to account for what the monster did next. As its mighty claws rose into the air, it shrieked and the points of its front limbs began to glow with a green light. I was already committed to the attack and couldn’t stop my momentum toward the beast before its claws shot down at me faster than my eyes could process. The points of its legs hit me hard enough to arrest my upper body, though my legs continued forward, and the creature used my newly diagonal stance to slam me into the ground. Its legs dug deep into my chest this time and I felt something hot inject itself under my skin and begin burning away at my muscle.

Overall, it hurt, but not nearly as much as the fatal tree hug given to me by my arch nemesis, The Mighty Oak, in Chapter One. I ignored the pain and reached up to grab the creature’s thin neck. Again, I didn’t know how to use Oblivion Orb, or how to cast any spell for that matter, but the System had given me a few hints as to how it worked. So far, I’d been able to make selections, see additional details, and potentially change my HUD by concentrating or focusing on the thing I wanted to affect. So, I simply thought about casting Oblivion Orb.

A power flowed out from my gut and a pulse of white light traveled down my arm. I felt air being sucked in between my fingers accompanied by a loud pop! My fist closed more tightly around the creature’s neck, and something warm and wet started to trickle down my wrist.

I let go of the Stickman and saw that half of its neck had disappeared, replaced by a golf ball-sized hole. Its head lolled from one side to another, as a violent spurt of dark green ooze sprayed from the wound. It yanked its limbs from my chest, sending up an arcing stream of my bright crimson blood, then collapsed onto the ground, its limbs flailing violently. I hopped to my feet, then dropped on top of the monster, reaching out and grabbing it in the same spot, then cast Oblivion Orb again. This time, its neck was nearly severed, the head held on by a small sliver of barky skin. Its body twitched, and then it lay still.

“Well,” I said, “that was effective.”