The enormous ant leaped at Rin, but the boy was already gone, shrinking to a level 4 Ratback that scurried between its six legs.
Why did I pick my weakest monster?
A foot crashed down, narrowly missing him.
He changed to the level 24 Stick Devil and activated its Whirlwind ability, attacking the beast’s underbelly. He limited the mana in the attack, unsure how long the battle would take. His Whirlwind ability still lifted the ant clear off the ground, and Rin tilted at an angle to flip it over and onto its back.
The ant was undeterred, clambering right-side up with no harm done. The attack only enraged the beast further, and its glow burned brighter.
Rin changed into lemur form and activated Bash against one of the ant’s hulking feet. Again, the attack caused no damage.
The ant retaliated by stomping in rapid succession. The barrage sent Rin stumbling back. His lemur form was only level 7. A single hit would be devastating.
I gotta get away. This isn’t working.
He snatched his pack and dashed to the safety of the oversized fir, leaping up into its branches.
But the tree was no longer safe. The Dirt Stomper slammed against it with all its strength, wrenching loose its roots.
Rin raced upward as the tree went into free fall. He reached the gap in the foliage and launched with all his strength. Changing to the raven midair, he soared free with his Monster Pack secured on his back. The fir tree plummeted to the ground with an almighty crash.
He swooped around, glancing at his boosted stats. The bird’s Strength was weak for its level at 33, but its Toughness was a more respectable 65.
Much better. At least now I can take a hit. But can I do any damage?
Rin dove through the space the fallen tree carved in the surrounding forest, circling the monster well outside his range.
Or that’s what he thought.
The ant unexpectedly lobbed a boulder-sized glob of dirt in his direction. It clipped his wing, sending him spiraling into a neighboring tree trunk.
Rin’s bones held firm, but he was dazed, collapsing to the ground.
The monster pounced, thwacking him away with its weighty foot. Rin was dazed all over again.
In a fog, he abandoned his pack and used his previous strategy to escape the monster, becoming a rat to scurry away. Once at a safe distance, he returned to raven form, taking to the air. This time, he flew erratically and unpredictably, anticipating the volleys of earth that came his way.
He risked a glance at his health.
Current HP: 280/1310
Not good!
Rin needed more options. None of his wardrobe attacks affected the creature. He had one final card he hadn’t played.
Here goes nothing.
He blasted the ant with the raven’s Death Ray, hitting the precise center of its thorax. The insect let out a keening wail of pain, and its enraged glow swelled. It thrashed about in a fury, no longer caring for its welfare.
The Death Ray did do some damage, but it wasn’t enough, and the side-effect was substantial: The ant was now so aggressive Rin couldn’t get anywhere near it.
Disappointed at his efforts, Rin swooped down to collect his discarded Monster Pack and retreated, speeding through the gap created by the fallen fir to the blue sky beyond. He didn’t land until he was back at the chuckling stream, turning human so he could refill his waterskin and ponder what had gone wrong.
His recent defeats were all too apparent. His last three combatants had been so strong he’d run away in fear for his very life. On the one hand, three retreats in a row seemed excessive. On the other hand, he was thankful he still breathed to tell the tale.
Transmuting into those lower-level monsters is a bad crutch of mine. One well-placed stomp in that last fight would have ended me.
Thinking back on the battle, he was surprised the undead raven performed so poorly since it was only three levels behind the Dirt Stomper. Perhaps he should have known. The raven was a scout tailored for stealth and reconnaissance, not fighting. The specific build of each monster had never entered his equation for strength. In his mind, it had always been a matter of the number of levels combined with any advantage given by elemental type. Now he understood he also had to consider the role of the monster. The Lesser Trundler, for example, was excellent at traveling by land for long periods, but it would be practically useless for most other applications.
With a groan, Rin realized there were other combinations at play he hadn’t even considered, like if a monster was vulnerable to magical, melee, or ranged attacks, and if the monster had any critical vulnerabilities that were obvious, such as a soft underbelly or weak point in their skull.
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With that in mind, what weakness does the Dirt Stomper have? It’s got to have one.
Ultimately, he couldn’t discern its every last weakness until he could transform into the thing. But he couldn’t do that until he defeated it, which relied on him discovering a weakness, a vicious cycle. The easy way to skip the cycle entirely was to find more dungeon flowers and simply charm the thing.
I need more dungeon flowers. More monsters in my Available Creatures list, too.
If Rin were serious about exploring the country solo, he would need both utility monsters and fighting ones, and with varying elemental types, too. He added the thought to his growing to-do list, which already included securing a reliable light source and a storage ring.
When Rin remembered that assassins still hunted him, he had another depressing thought.
If it comes to a fight with people, I’m screwed. I won’t be able to use Transmutation at all. I need to shore up my weaknesses and learn to do more with Craven’s Wardrobe ability. I also need to memorize more swatches and add mana weaves to the materials. With all that, I should be able to complete a few more dungeons and get more flowers. Then, I’ll return to Craven’s temple and tame every last one of those super-strong monsters.
With his plan in place, his next step was to check his supplies. With a mere thought, he dismissed the conjured Monster Pack still wrapped protectively around his knapsack. His trusty hand-carved staff was snapped cleanly in half, and he reluctantly tossed it aside. The assassins had stolen his dungeon map, sword, and money pouch. He’d eaten the last of his dried rations. His remaining possessions were an old waterskin, the swatch book, and a spare set of clothes that could be replaced and even upgraded by his wardrobe ability.
He took another look at his old traveling knapsack. It had served him well, but with his transmuting ability and a lack of a storage ring, it was an encumbrance he could no longer afford. He set it on a nearby log with his extra clothes still folded inside and gave it a kindly pat goodbye. Then he conjured a new Monster Pack and added his waterskin and swatch book to its contents. After adjusting the straps, he transformed into the undead raven and took off into the air.
At first, he searched above the canopy, earnestly seeking a hint in the sea of green without alerting the Dirt Stomper to his presence. From what he could remember of the map, the dungeon should be due west of the abandoned village.
He eventually gave up looking for fresh landmarks and returned to the fallen fir, an unmistakable crater in the unbroken foliage he could spot a mile away. Angling west, he flew for fifteen minutes, then cautiously fluttered to the ground between a gap in the trees.
Seeing nothing of interest, he took off again and repeated the process twice more before having any luck. This time, when he slipped beneath the sea of green, an imposing hillock of dirt caught his attention. Leading right up to it was a well-beaten path peppered with various tracks, from mundane animals to the monster variety.
He landed and turned human to study the tracks more closely. Beside the trail, clear as day, were the immense circular footprints of the Dirt Stomper.
Why is the Dirt Stomper visiting this dungeon?
Slowly, a theory formed in his mind. Once a monster spawned in a dungeon, it rarely left. The exception was if the dungeon’s mana swelled to such a state to create a ‘dungeon break,’ spewing its more powerful residents into the surrounding area. Dungeon breaks were dangerous, and the kingdom relied on parties of adventurers to regularly plunder each dungeon and cull its inhabitants, keeping its ambient mana to a safe level. But if this earth-type dungeon was unpopular to begin with, it was possible, and even likely, that it had eventually suffered a dungeon break. Such an event would endanger the nearby village, explaining why it was abandoned. It could also explain the Dirt Stomper’s level of 35, far above what a level 15 dungeon should be able to support. If the Dirt Stomper had been out exploring the nearby forest for several decades, its level would have mushroomed over time.
A dungeon break. That must be the reason. I wonder how many monsters are strong enough to leave the dungeon. I’d better be careful.
Rin shook his head as he dug around in his monster pack, extracting his swatch book.
The natural counter to earth types is water—it can cut right through them or wash them away.
He began flipping to the water category when a page of light-affinity materials caught his eye. One exemplary specimen was titled ‘Blinding Skin of the Sun Newt.’ When Rin concentrated and trickled the tiniest thread into the swatch, it lit up to a painful brilliance.
This would solve my light source problem!
Activating his wardrobe ability, a hooded garment formed around his head with a ball of the newt skin affixed to the top. Not only did it look ridiculous, it was also too loose. Some preliminary experiments of jogging around made it flop about so much that the darting shadows distracted his eyes. Instead, he reimagined his hood as a collar about his neck that shone in every direction without flapping around erratically. It worked perfectly, and he saved the accessory to his Memorable Outfits with the name Light Collar.
I can adjust this to fit any of my monsters. Well, except for the stick devil. I have no idea what clothes would fit a bundle of wood.
He resumed searching the swatch book for water-typed materials and found a compatible material titled ‘Scales of the Thorn Fish.’ It wasn’t perfect, but without an available water source, it was one of the few materials he thought might work without constantly replenishing it. Apparently, the scales didn’t possess any offensive damage of their own but retaliated using magic to reflect water damage back toward the attacker, depending on the strength and type of the attack. The swatch description said it even worked against ranged attacks, although Rin didn’t understand how.
Great, so all I need to do is stand there and get hit. Better than nothing, I guess.
He checked a few more pages of the swatch book, stowed it in his monster pack, and turned into the level 32 Scout of the Undead. Although the bird wasn’t great for offense, it was still his strongest monster, and he knew it could take a hit. Plus, its air mobility was an excellent method of escape.
Nothing beats running for your life. I’m getting good at that.
Hopping along the path, he neared the face of the earthen hillock when the ground opened under his bony feet, swallowing him up in a sinkhole of magical design. Rin resisted his natural urge to fly away and let the sinkhole take him down, tumbling into a dirt-walled cave with the customary blue-flamed torch ensconced on the wall.
You have entered the dungeon: The Mountain’s Footstool (Earth Type)
He stared at the torch of blue fire, his raven head cocking aside without intending to do so.
My plan to use the raven has already fallen apart. That didn’t take long.
With a resigned sigh, the boy turned human and strode up to the torch, giving it a firm tug. Unlike the Cursed Temple, this time it came free of its metal bracket easily, springing into his hand as if glad to be rid of its jailor.
The boy knew precisely what would happen next.
You have been cursed by Craven’s flame.
-100% XP gain for the entirety of this dungeon run
A glint passed over Rin’s eyes and a smile formed on his lips.
The game is on.