I hurtled through a stone archway into a candlelit cavern and landed on a dusty threadbare rug. The cavern was pretty homely actually. There was a bookcase carved into the stone with a few books. Books are cool. People who read books are even cooler. Too many people just spend all their time trying to kill each other instead of reading.

My Mana had recovered a fraction, but I would need more if I was going to do more than a single dodge or two.

As I waited for the Stamina depletion ache to fade, I scanned the rest of the cavern. There were some of those stalactites or stalagmite things hanging from the ceiling. I think stalactites are the ones that hang from the ceiling because they have a “C’ for Ceiling in their name and stalagmites have “G’ for Ground. There weren’t any stalagmites, but there was a pile of furs that could have been a bed and a creaky rocking chair with a cloaked figure napping on it.

He looked pretty old and he was snoring.

My stamina recovered a little, so I stood up and prepared to defend myself. The rust dagger had shattered on impact with the enemy, so I reformed it in my hand.

The festering corpse zombie —or Slacker— stepped through the doorway. Now that I could see it in the light, it was way worse. So apparently, Orcs are big. This dead guy was like seven foot tall. Mostly bald, he had crops of wiry ginger hair around his pointy ears, and his eyes were pretty close to his short snouty nose… but other than that he could have passed for a tall, ugly human. I mean, his skin was a greyish-green, but that might just have been the whole reanimated corpse thing.

He shuffled forward and swung his huge arm at me. I ducked it and hit him with the dagger. I hadn’t set the NULL’s Rust Blade Skill as one of my selected, so it didn’t have a mana cost other than to form the dagger itself. I wondered if the skill would be more powerful or just a faster way of forming the dagger… either way, now wasn’t the time to find out. The dagger shattered and the Slacker groaned and swung again. Good, he’s pretty slow. Not pretty and slow, just pretty slow.

I kicked at his knees, then ran back a few paces to create space while I formed the dagger. He didn’t give me the chance. He threw himself forward in a kind of belly flop move. Was that a fucking slam? He stretched both of his out and belly flopped the fucking ground. If I was on the ground and that thing had hit me, I would have died a hundred times, but as it was only his outstretched hands hit me. Even so, if I hadn’t reflexively cast Basic Restoration and used up all my mana, that probably would have been goodnight. I should have dodged. My reactions aren’t quite synced up with my skills yet. I need to do some tactics training… when I’m not fighting for my life that is.

I sprinted to the far side of the cavern to try and create more space while my Mana recovered.

The Slacker clambered back onto his feet. He wasn’t very graceful. I wondered if he had stunned himself with his slam attack, but it was more likely his undead condition was a natural impediment to his alacrity. In other words, the dead thing wasn’t very lively. Still, that slam attack almost caught me completely off guard. I need to be wary. He might have more tricks than just throwing himself at the floor.

Come to think of it, that slam looked like it hurt. Did he damage himself? The vision of Imber smiling happily as he explained his theory of damage types flashed through my mind. Essentially, he boiled it down to Blunt, Piercing, and Slashing. The way I see it, Slashing covers chop and slice attacks, like with an axe or a curved sword. Piercing is all about the straight stab and poke attacks, see spear or sword thrusts. Blunt however, covers everything from Imber’s classic club crunch, to the bludgeoning brawler’s fist, to the skull-cracking hammer drop… or in this case: The Slacker’s Sudden Body Slam. I don’t know if that’s what the move he used is called, but you get the idea.

If the Slacker is resistant or even immune to blunt damage, then no matter how many times he slams, he won’t get hurt. That also means, my kicks and my ram slam probably wouldn’t do much either. Not that that matters really. I was planning on honing my rust lump —dagger— anyway.

The Slacker staggered towards me groaning like a creaking door. Yeah, I get it. You’re undead. “You can quit with the theatrical moaning, dude.”

He grumbled, then lowered his head and stumbled forward a little faster. I guess he’s a little touchy.

I ran around the edge of the room, keeping him at a safe distance while I plucked my Pocket Book and swiped to the Skill’s page.

NULL’s Rust Blade (Hybrid Magical Brutality).

Thrust with your palm open to form a Shattering Blade dealing Rust damage.

I needed to swap out one of my other Skills to select the Rust Blade, but I couldn’t choose. I only had six slots and they were all filled: Ram Slam, Vampiric Bite, Basic Restoration, Basic Identify, Basic Detect, and Basic Dodge.

They were all invaluable to me. Each had saved my life. Ahh, I can’t pick!

I needed the Rust Blade. I couldn’t keep creating it from scratch with my Form Rust ability because it took too long and it shattered on impact. If I could use the skill, I was pretty sure it would form instantly… that would mean I could spam it until my mana was depleted. That could mean six stabs in a row before I need to recover.

Of all the skills, the two that were most similar were Ram Slam and Basic Dodge. I mostly used Ram Slam to evade. The only time I had ever really used it as an attack was when I dropped that Hesta trash. Actually, there was also the time I Ass Blasted Boss Riffy, but let’s forget that ever happened.

Fair well, Ram Slam. I swapped in Rust Blade and sighed as the 24 hour countdown appeared next to Ram Slam.

As it turned out, Rust Blade was a hybrid attack. That meant it cost a point of Stamina and Mana every time I used it… but it was worth it.

I dodged inside the Slacker’s range and hit him with a palm strike and felt the metallic tingle of Rust activating as the dagger burst from my hand and shattered against the Slacker’s ribs. Rot sprayed all over my face as the Slacker staggered back. I struck with my other hand and it activated again. Awesome, I didn’t even know if that could work.

I comboed three hits, the last one struck his chin and sent him sprawling back as though he would fall. I stepped in to finish him, but when he rocked back towards me, I saw the glint of satisfaction in his cold dead eyes. This guy may be a stiff, but he's not completely brain dead.

His body slam missed by a fraction as I Basic Dodged at the last moment. That was close. If I had spent that last bit of Mana on another attack, I wouldn’t have been able to dodge. Without Ram Slam, I could no longer use stamina to evade as confidently. I would have to rely on my own lackluster speed.

The Slacker clambered back to his feet as I retreated again to recover Mana and that’s when I bumped into the old guy snoozing in the rocking chair.

“Aha,” he shouted. Criteria fulfilled. “You’ve come to steal my Gloves of Proximategnetism!” His voice was croaky, but whimsical. He lurched to his feet and kind of threw his arms out to the side in a kind of wizardly stance. He was wearing a dark robe, so he actually pulled it off pretty well.

“No,” I said. “I didn’t come to steal shit. Your fucking zombie dragged me down here and tried to beat me to death.”

He looked pretty stunned at my attitude, actually he looked crestfallen. The skin around his eyes sagged and his mouth went slack... I feel bad now.

“That’s a nice wizard robe, though. I appreciate the commitment,” I added to ease my guilt.

“Thank you, child,” he said. Asshole!

I was about to give him shit for calling me a child, but then I remembered I kind of am child sized.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Shan,” said the old wizard. “Did you leave the lair without telling me again?”

The Slacker groaned.

The old guy turned back to me. “He said you dropped down from above and stabbed him.”

“That was after he threw me down here!”

The Slacker shook his head and groaned again.

“He says that wasn’t him.”

“Oh,” I said. “Well he came at me in the dark, I thought he was attacking me.”

“Well, you did trespass into my lair,” said the old guy. “You can hardly blame him for protecting his home from invasion. Shan here is my greatest fighter. Aren’t you lad?”

Shan grumbled.

While they were talking to eachother I cast Basic Identify on the old guy.

Name: Reginald. Race: Human. Class: Grave Keeper. Lvl 4.

Standard Common. Vegetarian. Violent. Sociable. Intelligent.

Reginald raised an eyebrow. “What are you targeting me with, boy?”

“Just identifying you,” I said.

“That’s rude to do without asking. What were you raised in a barn?”

“What?” I asked.

“Come now, I may be a hermit, but I can’t imagine the cities have changed so much that you can get away with Identifying people without even so much as a how's your father?” he said.

“I haven’t been to a city yet. You’re one of the first people I’ve met that hasn’t immediately attacked me. Actually, you’re the first human and the second creature,” I said. “Well, third actually. I forgot about Noring.”

“Noring?” Reginald asked.

“Nevermind.” I shook my head and started backing towards the tunnel.

“My mother’s name was Noring.”

“This was a different Noring.”

“I expect so. She’s dead, my mother. And not the walking kind.” Reginald laughed, then repeated his joke for Shan.

Shan didn’t laugh. He looked pretty grave.

“So you didn’t come to steal my Gloves of Proximatagnetism?” Reginald asked.

“No. I’ve never even heard of your Gloves of...” I can't believe I'm going to say this out loud. “ Proximatagnetism? Did I get it right? And I’m not a thief.”

“Well, then…” he said. “You must have come to request my mentorship. Let me tell you, it won’t be easy to earn my acceptance. But if you train hard, show discipline, respect, and determination, I might be willing to teach you the ways of the Necromancer.” He whispered the last word.

“Yeah, like I said before,” I said. “I was pushed down here. Sorry, but I’m pretty busy right now. My friend is in trouble and I need to get back to him.”

Reginald’s eyebrows twisted downward and he gritted his teeth. “So you didn’t come for my gloves and you didn’t come for training… you think you can just burst in here and wake a sleeping old man and expect to just sod off with a toodle-pip and nary a backward glance?”

“I… what?”

“Seize him!” he shouted, spit flying in my face.

Fuck this guy.

Shan staggered forward to grab me, but my Mana and Stamina had completely restored, so I spun on the spot and palm spammed him with the Rust Blade. He started to fall after the third strike, but I kept hitting until I was empty. The clotted blood and chunks of decayed flesh peppered me. I tasted iron, mulch, rotting meat, and mold, but I was too angry to care. I thought this guy was finally going to be a nice person that wouldn’t mess with me, but he thinks he can fucking trap me here!

“Fuck you,” I shouted as I wheeled back to face Reginald.

His face was chalk white with fear as he fell backwards in fright.

“Holy shit,” he muttered breathlessly.

I was about to strike, but then something surprised me.

Stat Increase: Brutality +1.

Six strike combo!

Devour activated:

New Skill Absorbed: Tumble Slam.

You defeated a Monster:

Slacker Level 4.

XP Gain: 20.

It had been so long since I gained that Devour Perk. I had completely forgotten about it. I had defeated Shan, but only gained 20XP. That’s bullshit, I should get more XP for a level four… I mean shit I didn’t mean to kill him, but still 20XP?

“Sorry,” I stuttered. “I didn’t think… I killed him? I killed your zombie.”

“Oh, he’ll be fine. He’s not a zombie. I wish!” he said. “No he’s just a Slacker. If he was a Zombie, I could raise an army, but no the only thing a Slacker can do is reanimate. He’ll be back up again soon.”

“Oh,” I said.

“You’d have to use the right type of attack to completely destroy him.”

“What kind of attack?”

“Aha, my apprentice,” Reginald chortled, regaining composure. “In time, I will teach you all of the tricks of the Necromancer, but we must begin with the very basics.”

“I’m not your apprentice and you aren’t my mentor.”

“Oh, come on,” he said. “Every young hero needs a mentor.”

“I don’t want to be a necromancer,” I said.

“You…” he stuttered. “You don’t want to be a necromancer?”

“I mean,” I began. “I like the build in theory. It’s got great style and the tactical advantages are too many to list. I seriously think its awesome, but I wouldn’t even allow one to travel in my party.”

“What?!” he shrieked. “Why not?”

“Well, for starters.” I held up a finger and began listing. “The smell. This place stinks to valhalla. I could never put up with that stench. Then there’s the decor. Travelling on the road, it wouldn’t be so bad, but living in a dank, sweaty dungeon is gonna get old fast.”

“Well, you have a point there,” he said. “But it has its charms… no solicitations, for example.”

“That’s my next point,” I said. “How could I ever enter a settlement with a necromancer in tow? You think I could get good prices with a merchant if the guy standing next to me is asking for directions to the nearest graveyard and the zombie on my other side is leaking guts onto the floor?”

“I…” he said. “Well, I certainly see your point.”

“Look, I love the commitment to the role, but I’m afraid it’s not for me.”

“I didn’t choose this, you know!” he shouted suddenly. “Those bastards banished me. They’re cruel and corrupt. I was helping them! And they turned on me.” Tears began to roll down his cheeks.

“I should go,” I said.

“It was a long time ago…” he sat back in his rocking chair and pulled a pipe out of his cloak. “I was raised on the outskirts of Pentamorel City. My family tended the graveyard there. We lived in a little two-story wooden cottage in the peninsula style. You know the kind with the long wooden beams and trellises in the front garden. My father was a proud man. He never accepted charity from anybody. And my mother, ahh she was a saint. And not the crazy cult kind. She was a skeptic. A good woman. I was a loyal son. I plied the family trade, tending the graves, pruning the flowers, shearing the gravesheep. You know how it goes, a young boy with all that space growing up. I loved that house and those lands, and I learned the layout like the back of my hand —Ooh, a hangnail.— I explored every nook and cranny, every field and burrow.”

Tell him to shut up. Tell him to shut up. Tell him to shut up… I can’t do it!

“I was homeschooled, of course,” he continued, taking the occasional puff on him pipe. “I would offer you a draw on this old thing, but you’re too young lad.”

He chuckled. “You have to save some luxuries for later in life. This thing will kill you, am I right, Shan?”

The Slacker slowly sat up.

“Welcome back to the world of the unliving!” Reginald slapped his thigh with laughter at his clearly well-tried joke. “Now where was I? Oh yes. You see, my family and I tended the entire graveyard for all of Pentamorel.”

I glanced at Shan and he shrugged pitifully. Poor guy.

“Is it alright if I defeat Shan again while you’re telling me all this?” I asked. “It’s just I’m pretty close to leveling up.”

“Hmmm, Shan what do you think?”

Shan groaned happily.

“Oh, my stories aren’t that bad,” Reginald chuckled. “Swing away, apprentice. Swing away.”

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