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No More Levels (litRPG)
Chapter 17: A Narrow Path Forward

Chapter 17: A Narrow Path Forward

The strange, foreboding words of the god echoed in Rin’s mind.

Surely I can’t be the only one on this path? Can I?

Although he’d calculated the probability himself using rudimentary guesswork, he could scarcely believe it. Rin had always presumed that gods and goddesses wanted many followers. Wasn’t that what they did? Gathering up their faithful to guide them on their various paths? Yet Rin’s experience with Craven had been the opposite. The god had called it ‘lovely,’ and that was about it.

But he did admit to watching me. That’s something.

Rin transformed into the Greater Cave Wriggler and dove back into the sand tunnel, arriving in the previous chamber beside his pile of discarded gear.

Seeing his clothes lying there gave him an idea, and he imagined his worm body wearing a tiny green velvet tinker’s vest, like the kind Percy wore. The clothes appeared on his torso, already equipped, as he wriggled free from the sand.

As far as he could discern with the wriggler’s weak vision, the outfit looked good on him, but he still shook his little head, dissatisfied.

Okay, so the clothes ability works when I’m transformed. It’s still a dumb ability, though.

He tried something else, dramatically increasing the density of the fabric. The vest reflected the changes instantly. When he checked his MP, it hadn’t budged.

Probably a low-cost change because the clothes are so small.

Next, he envisioned the vest was a different material altogether: steel. Again, his vest updated its style immediately, reflecting in the weak light with the telltale glint of metal. It weighed him down so much that his wriggler body sank beneath the sand. Still, Rin considered the experiment an overwhelming success.

Can I create armor with this? That’s a kind of clothing, right?

He turned back into his human self, imagined his usual clothes on his body, and checked his MP.

Current MP: 28/40

His two recent transmutations had diminished his MP by 20 but his Absorption had countered the cost well, and it was rapidly ticking back.

The furrows on his brow deepened as he concentrated, imagining his body covered in half-plate armor like what Sergeant Ilks wore. It appeared in the blink of an eye. It even had the trademark dents and scratches he’d imagined in his mind’s eye. A cursory check of his MP again showed it hadn’t budged so much as a single point.

Woah. That’s crazy.

Rin played with variations, adding spikes to the half-plate, making it denser and so big the cuirass fell past his knees and touched the floor. Each variation materialized flawlessly. His MP finally reflected his usage of the ability by going down a single point.

This is quickly becoming awesome.

He imagined the armor becoming full plate that covered every square inch of his body, including an imposing helmet. But rather than steel, it was made from volcanic obsidian—shiny, black, and covered in sharp edges. The armor updated instantly.

Rin struggled to peer out of the helmet’s narrow slit. His mobility had been reduced to nil, but he could tell the armor was strong. Once he mastered this ability, he might be able to switch out different configurations, mid-fight. He could transform into an impregnable behemoth in an instant.

Could I transform into a big rock and just squish things?

He imagined the obsidian armor becoming three feet thick until all its edges melded into a single inflexible block. His clothes carried out his wishes perfectly for a measly two MP.

Granted, he was categorically immobile now and couldn’t possibly fight back. His limbs were firmly sandwiched in a coffin of unyielding rock formed perfectly around his body.

Within seconds, he noticed his breathing becoming labored because of the lack of air. In his mind, he pictured the space inside the ‘clothes’ growing bigger so he’d have more room. The obsidian armor obeyed his commands, swelling to some unknown size he couldn’t see from locked within. At least he had more room now, and he could safely withdraw each limb from their tunnels in the rock, curling into a naked ball in the middle where the armor’s torso would be. The increased space meant he had much more air, although it was pitch black.

Wait, why am I naked? I can just imagine another layer of clothes.

His cotton shirt and breeches formed over his body. When he reached out in the dark and felt how close the obsidian walls were, a wave of claustrophobia swept over him, prompting another check of his MP.

I’d hate to get stuck in here.

To his relief, the MP cost was so low that his Absorption countered it admirably, ticking up over time.

Current MP: 30/40

He expanded the armor further, finding that as long as he held the concept of clothes firmly in his mind, he could do almost anything with the creation. But the concept fell apart when he tried to smooth out the arm and leg holes in the obsidian ball he’d created. The entire thing dissolved into a swirling cloud of essence that escaped his grasp.

One look down told him what he suspected. He was naked once more, his conjured shirt and breeches going the way of the rest of the armor as it dispersed. A mere thought was all it took to summon them back.

Rin was overjoyed with the experiment’s results. Craven had been correct in every sense of the word. He could equip any garment he could imagine, even if it had no right to be called clothing, as long as it obeyed some simple rules.

This ability is a total hack in the Game of the Gods. There’s so much I can do with this!

His mind spun as he gathered the few belongings he’d brought into the dungeon. Craven’s Infinite Wardrobe had just become his favorite ability. And to top it off, he received a notification.

The following abilities have advanced by negligible amounts:

Craven’s Infinite Wardrobe

Rin pumped his fist. “Yes! The MP cost should be even lower now!”

Unfortunately, even after running another quick experiment with obsidian armor, he couldn’t detect any change in the ability’s cost. When the notification said ‘negligible,’ it meant it. But it brought up a more fundamental question.

What happens to my health and mana pools when I transform into different monsters? Does every monster have its own pool, or are they shared?

To answer the question, he ran another experiment, rapidly switching between a few monsters while studying the changes in his stats. His total HP and MP were shared, maintained as a percentage no matter which form he took. If he spent half his total MP as one monster before changing to another, his total MP was still around 50%, no matter how big the creature’s total mana pool. And if he spent his entire mana pool and attempted another transmutation, he suffered a splitting headache as his mana bottomed out. It was a harsh reminder to closely monitor his MP expenditure with every creature’s ability.

The discovery seemed a significant setback until he realized the shared pools worked both ways. He could refill his MP more rapidly by turning into a monster with a small total MP but high Absorption. That type of creature would fill its pool fastest. To Rin’s surprise, the Stone Ratback was best for his MP, and the Turtletan was best for his HP.

Some monsters are better for battle, others for recovery, and others for random utility, like the bat’s vision.

The boy returned to the dungeon’s beginning and exited to an empty square. The colors of the setting sun surprised him, peppering the cobblestones in warm pinks and oranges. His meticulous exploration of the dungeon had taken all day.

“All done?” asked Gary Fleck, poking his head from the guard station. “I ‘ope ya got wot ya needed.”

“You could say that.”

Stolen novel; please report.

Rin rushed back to Percy’s house as fast as his low-level stamina could take him. By the time he arrived at the tinker’s house, bursting into the living room unannounced, he was a sweaty, bedraggled mess.

“Rin!” exclaimed the tinker, removing two savory pies from the stove with gloved hands. “Just in time for dinner. I was about to go look for you, but these pies don’t bake themselves.”

The boy’s stomach gurgled loudly, begging for attention. He’d eaten nothing of substance all day except for a few meager strips of jerky with a generous side dish of poison and adrenaline.

“That smells incredible, thank you, Percy. But before we eat, can we talk for a minute? My plan has changed. I’m not going to be a dungeon guide anymore.”

One eyebrow rose on the merchant’s brow, skepticism evident in his features. “What are you talking about, ‘not going to be a dungeon guide’? That’s your best prospect by far.

The boy scratched the back of his head, wincing as he diverted his gaze to the floor.

“I completed the whole dungeon. There’s nothing left to do there.”

“Yes, I’m aware. You finished this morning—”

“No, the whole dungeon. I found secrets, Percy. Secrets I’m not allowed to tell you about. One even put a contract on my soul. Another said I was the only person to find it. Like, ever. And then there’s this map.”

The tinker’s mouth opened and closed several times, like a beached fish gasping for water. “What are you talking about, boy? And what’s this nonsense about a map? What kind of map?”

Rin’s eyes glittered. “A map of dungeons.”

Between glorious mouthfuls of steaming hot pie, Rin told as much of his tale as he could. Unfortunately, his voice locked up when describing the finer details of what happened, and a shooting pain wracked his brain. The contract on his soul flared, restricting his communication.

Still, the tinker discerned that the boy was under a magical restriction and pieced together a broad understanding of what had happened.

Percy handed him a napkin, dabbing his own chin to indicate Rin should do the same. “If I understand you correctly, you’ve discovered an obscure way to scrabble together some attributes despite your Cursed class. But the supply within the current dungeon is exhausted, and you need to find other dungeons that will suffice. Does that sum it up?”

Rin nodded eagerly. “Exactly! And I think the kind of dungeon is important.” The boy’s memory conjured an image of Deeya’s fireballs splashing harmlessly off the stone lemur’s chest. “The unorthodox, uh, method I’ve discovered is loosely based around the kind of dungeon it is. Bastion’s Boulder is a stone dungeon; I’ve gained all I can from it. It would be easier if the next dungeon were something weak to the stone element so that I can use what I’ve learned today.”

The tinker nodded, taking the map from Rin. When he went to put it on the table, the remnants of their meal cluttered the space, so he resorted to spreading it on the flagstone floor. The scroll unraveled in his hands and the tinker whistled through his teeth.

“This map is quite the find. I’ve seen many maps of local dungeons, but none quite like this. The cartography is astounding. Elvish quality, if I’m not mistaken. These are self-preservation runes here.” The tinker abruptly looked up at him. “How did you find this in a beginner dungeon?”

Rin gave a weak smile. “That’s one of the secrets I can’t talk about. Let’s just say it required a great deal of investigation and luck.”

Percy’s slender forefinger found a point on the map titled ‘Bastion.’

“We’re here. And each of these X symbols indicates a dungeon, that much you’ve surmised correctly. The color of the X goes along with this legend over here, indicating what kind of dungeon it is, and the number beside the X denotes its difficulty level. The number suggests the minimum recommended level you should be at before attempting the dungeon.”

The man’s finger traced a line east that curled around the mountains’ foothills and the border of the Kingdom of Hask. The dungeons along this periphery were all lower ranked, with varying difficulty numbers from 10 to 30. “Here you see a level 14 water dungeon, then a level 23 ice dungeon, each about ten or twenty miles apart. Those dungeon types are a bad matchup for stone abilities, mostly because stone types are prone to drowning easily. They also lock up for longer when frozen.”

Percy traced a line in the opposite direction. “However, if you instead travel to the west, there’s a level 15 earth dungeon, then a level 29 wind one. That might sound like a big leap in the difficulty level of the dungeon—and frankly, it is—but stone abilities have a major advantage against wind. The low level of 15 for the earth dungeon is good too, because stone is typically an even match against earth types. So, if you’re serious about doing this, there’s a certain order you should progress in.”

“Just how many elemental types are there? Father could never give me a firm answer.”

The tinker shrugged. “We know of a few dozen by now. Every few decades, the academy puts out a notice saying they’ve found a new one.” He paused to scratch behind an ear. “The last one was a type called celestial, or something obscure like that. And the elemental types don’t just apply to monsters, but magic in general.”

The man raised his right forefinger, wanting to emphasize a point. “But even though there are so many elemental types, they all have one thing in common. They all have strengths and weaknesses. The most famous example is the fire element because it’s strong against wood and weak against water, but the same is true of all elemental types. In other words, there’s no such thing as a god-type that is strong against everything.”

Rin hmphed, continuing to trace his finger around the dungeon map. “That rings true with a lot of what Father told me.” His finger discovered a different series of symbols etched with a double X symbol. Their minimum class levels were substantially higher, ranging from 50 to 100. “What are these dungeons closer to the center of the kingdom?”

“Don’t go messing with those, scamp. They’re higher-level dungeons that kill scores of experienced adventurers every year. They get progressively more difficult as you spiral to the capital, here, Dunspire City. It’s said that hidden far below the city is the strongest dungeon in the country, but the king controls access to that. You’d have to be in his good graces and have a level of at least a hundred to even get on the waiting list. At least, that’s what they say.”

Rin wasn’t remotely interested in that degree of danger. Besides, according to the map, there were enough other dungeons to keep him busy for years.

Percy glanced at the space above the boy’s head, using Identify on his status as if he’d forgotten. “One more thing. There are other dungeons. Cursed ones. They’re not listed on this map, because no one cares about them. You can’t even enter without receiving a lethal dose of Craven’s poison and an XP penalty. Perhaps … perhaps you might find something there?”

“YES! Exactly! Those are the dungeons I want to explore most of all—the kind no one else visits. Where can I find a map of those?”

“As far as I know, a map like that doesn’t exist. No one’s ever bothered to make one.” Percy rolled up the document like a scroll. “You could be the first to add the Cursed dungeons to this one. Although it would likely lower its value. Like I said, nobody cares about them, and no one else would want that on their map, except perhaps a scholar at the Magic Academy. You’ll just have to find Cursed dungeons the old-fashioned way—by asking around.”

Percy exhaled. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Rin. Cursed dungeons are said to be incredibly dangerous. They’re bad luck. Nobody wants to live near them. Some towns even put up signs to warn unwary travelers away.” The thought elicited an unbidden snort from the man. “Actually, that could be one method of finding them. If you travel through a town and there are old wives’ tales about a place you should never visit for some obscure reason, that’s your sign. There could be a Cursed dungeon at the source.” His smile turned rueful. “Either that, or an evil monster is truly camped out there, waiting to eat you, and you die in agony.”

Percy pointed at the money pouch tied to the boy’s belt. “With what you made as a dungeon guide, you might have enough to pay for passage to your first dungeon. Or you could try renting yourself out as a guard with a traveling merchant, but …” The tinker exhaled. “I’ll be honest. I don’t think a merchant would hire you. It’s because of your Cursed class. I’m sorry, Rin, but it’s toxic. Even if you found someone desperate enough to hire you, the slightest misfortune would be laid squarely upon your back. Merchants are a superstitious lot, and landing a guard job would be more trouble than it’s worth.”

“There is another option,” said Rin. “I could strike out alone. You said the Cursed dungeons are all off the beaten path anyway. If I’m serious about finding them, I’ll have to go alone sooner or later.”

Percy shook his head, skeptical. “The problem is the wilderness between towns is filled with monsters, particularly at night. Sometimes, they’re very high-level, too. I know your father taught you extensive survival skills, but we’re talking about level twenty monsters here. Are you confident you could handle something like that alone?”

Percy had posed it a rhetorical question, fully expecting Rin’s answer to be “Hell, no. Are you crazy?” Instead, the boy was seriously considering it.

Rin gripped his chin between his thumb and forefinger, thinking. Could he take on a level 20 monster and win?

Charming them would probably be my best bet. Either that or crushing them with some clever trick using my new clothes ability. I’ll have to keep gaining plenty of Charisma from dungeon flowers. And I’ll need to watch my MP if I use Transmutation too often.

He looked Percy in the eye. “Yes, I think I could handle that.”

Percy’s eyes boggled. “Truly? Well, in that case, I take it all back. Going alone is an option, after all. It’s still perilous. I can’t stress that enough.” He cuffed Rin playfully over the ear. “What are you hiding from me, you devil?”

The man’s smile suddenly vanished. “Just whatever you do, don’t tell your father I agreed to this. He’d skin me sideways. And I assume now you’ve got this idea in your head, you want to leave right away, hmm?”

The tinker moved to clear away the dishes, but Rin leaped up to take over. “Yes, I’m itching to get going. I’ll take care of these dishes, don’t worry about it. You’ve already been so kind and generous, Uncle Percy.”

“Alright, thanks. I have some paperwork to wrap up in my room, so it’s an early night for me. I’ll escort you to the city walls at first light.” The man scratched at his salt-and-pepper beard. “I’ll make up some story to tell Sergeant Ilks and keep him happy. Like you’ve gone to visit a sick relative on their deathbed, or some such. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”

The boy nodded agreeably, then promptly entered work mode, darting about the room as he cleaned up. He even swept the empty hearth before settling down on his pathetic square of blanket.

Withdrawing Craven’s Ring, he stared at its metal glinting in the dim light. According to his Cursed class, he should now be immune to the ring’s poison. Still, he hesitated.

Dare I?

The impromptu meeting with the god had eased some of his fears, but Rin still didn’t trust him. According to Percy, all mortals were nothing but pawns in this celestial game, manipulated like wooden puppets on invisible strings. Yet after meeting Craven face to face, the god had seemed more mischievous than malicious.

Rin slid on the ring and immediately checked his notifications, fearful of the worst.

You have been inflicted with a lethal dose of Craven’s toxin.

Effect nullified by immunity to Craven’s toxin in all forms.

He exhaled a breath of relief. His opinion of the little ring had swung through so many extremes in the last 48 hours, from fascination to horror to loathing and finally to hope. It symbolized a brighter future, a path to power no one else would travel. If he was bold enough to claim it.

His fingers clenched into a fist. The Cursed class had almost proved his undoing, but no longer.

Now, he embraced it.