The stone in Ike’s hand flared with light, forcing him to close his eyes. He turned the stone away from him and squinted until his eyes adjusted. “It’s official. I’m not in Kansas anymore,” he said under his breath, rising to his feet and directing the stone’s light around the area.
Ike was in a wide room, about the size of a typical fast-food restaurant, with two open exits at opposite ends. The stone’s light was as bright as an ordinary flashlight and went a bit farther when he cupped his hand around it. Even then, it wasn’t enough to illuminate the doorways at this distance.
Stone columns rose from the floor at regular intervals. Ike had been sitting next to the edge of the debris of a fallen column. From its shape, he guessed his newly-enchanted stone had been part of the column’s decorative molding once upon a time.
After a few seconds of looking elsewhere, Ike took a deep breath and turned the light toward where he’d felt blood on the floor. A pit formed in his stomach as he confirmed his suspicion: A body lay unmoving atop a long-congealed pool of blood. All but the person’s outstretched hand was covered by a brown cloak, but the sallow, waxy skin on the hand left no doubt about their state of health.
“Well, I guess that solves step two,” Ike said, his voice cracking a bit. He moved slowly over to the body, every muscle tensed. His throat was suddenly very dry at the thought of having to touch it.
Ike set the stone down a few feet away, positioned himself so his feet were outside the pool of blood, and rolled the body over. It was heavier than he expected and he grunted from the effort.
As the full sight and smell of the dead body hit him, Ike was forced to take a step back. He averted his eyes and took a few deep breaths through the mouth before looking back down.
The body had been a plain-looking, middle-aged man of average size and build. His long black hair was tied back in a simple ponytail. Ike wasn’t sure if the man had been a few days overdue for a shave or not; he remembered something about hair continuing to grow post mortem. A deep wound to the man’s abdomen was the apparent cause of death. Ike wondered if that had contributed to the smell or if it was normal for a corpse to smell like feces.
Ike was less interested in the man’s features than in his clothes. They were as ordinary as the man himself: An off-white linen tunic with a bloody hole in it, green breeches cinched up with a length of hemp rope, a pair of plain canvas boots, and of course the cloak. Ike realized with dismay that it may have been the one item of clothing not covered in blood if he hadn’t just rolled the man over in the coagulated pool.
As Ike knelt to disrobe the body, he continued his previous rubber ducking session, trying to keep his mind on something else. “You know what bothers me the most, Stony? It’s not just that I’m naked in a dungeon stealing clothes from a corpse. It’s that the corpse is dressed like someone from a Renaissance fair and I didn’t even find that weird. It fits, you know? I didn’t want to admit that this all felt like some fantasy roleplaying game right from the start, but there’s no denying it at this point.”
Ike started putting on the clothes. Nevermind that they were scratchy and didn’t fit well. Everything reeked. Most of it was crusted with blood and similarly unpleasant excretions. He considered more than once how staying naked had its advantages, too. The clothes were worth wearing to keep warm, but just barely.
Breeches acquired.
Rope belt acquired.
Boots acquired.
Tunic acquired.
Cloak acquired.
Ike checked each article of clothing in turn, confirming that each had an item window.
Breeches Durability: 3 / 3
A pair of common legwear.
Defense: 1
Rope Belt Durability: 2 / 2
A belt improvised from a length of hemp rope.
Defense: 0
Boots Durability: 3 / 3
A pair of common leather boots.
Defense: 1
Tunic Durability: 1 / 3
A tunic made of linen.
Defense: 1
The boots, breeches, and belt were uninteresting, though Ike wondered if they might have enchantment capacity like the stone had. The tunic had lost most of its durability when its previous owner had been stabbed to death. “I guess one point of defense doesn’t amount to much,” Ike said. “I wonder if it’ll vanish when it loses that last point. Maybe I’ll test it when I get some better clothes. I doubt these are worth the trouble to carry or sell anyway.”
Scoundrel’s Cloak Durability: 3 / 3
A nondescript cloak favored by anyone with a good reason to escape notice.
Muffle: Dampens the sound of the wearer’s clothes rustling, granting a small bonus to stealth.
Defense: 1
The cloak piqued Ike’s interest the most. He swung it around noiselessly to confirm its effect. “I guess I don’t feel as bad stealing from you,” he said to the corpse. “If the name of this cloak is any indication, you probably had it coming. Then again, don’t most thieves carry a dagger? Lockpicks? What gives? I mean, you didn’t even have a pouch.” He retrieved his stone and searched nearby for missing items. Beyond a trail of blood leading out the western exit, he found nothing.
Ike walked closer to that side of the room, considering his options. There wasn’t anything else of use here, but it stood to reason that the man might have dropped some of his belongings when he was injured. That meant Ike had a higher chance of finding something useful if he went west, but also a higher chance of finding something dangerous.
The groan from behind Ike decided for him. It was unmistakable: A slow, dry intake of breath followed by a long, low “uuuuhhhh” sound. Ike spun in place, directing the stone’s light at the corpse that had just started standing up.
Zombie Level 1
A weak undead created by animating the remains of the recently deceased.
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Attack: 3 Defense: 3 Health: 10 / 10
“Fuck!” Ike yelled. It was dead. It was naked. It hadn’t gotten the memo that it shouldn’t be moving. And it probably wanted its stuff back.
Ike looked around in a panic, forgetting he’d already searched the place for weapons. He briefly considered rushing the thing before it could come after him, but immediately thought better of it; he had never been athletic or laid any manner of smackdown in his life.
After a second’s hesitation, Ike bolted out the western exit. Unfortunately, a second was all it took for the zombie to catch sight of him. Ike heard it give a low growl and glanced over his shoulder to see it ambling toward him.
Small chambers adjoined the corridor, some with doors intact, others that had collapsed. Ike came to an intersection with another large hallway, ducked just around the corner, and closed his hands tightly around the stone to smother the light.
It worked, but not very well; even the faint light that shone through Ike’s skin was enough to pinpoint him in the absolute darkness of the dungeon. Thinking back to the description of the Glow enchantment, he issued a mental command and was relieved when the stone’s light extinguished fully.
“That’s not a lot better,” Ike whispered to himself, unhappy to be back in the dark. He glanced around the corner. He couldn’t see anything, but he could hear the zombie moaning and shuffling a ways off. It moved slowly and seemed to have lost track of him when the light had gone out, but without other options, Ike was sure it would reach him eventually.
“Okay, what do I do now?” he whispered to himself. “Rushing ahead seems like a terrible idea. What if the zombie catches up when I’m not ready for it? Throwing the rock wouldn’t do much. That thing’s got three times more defense and ten times more health than the stone’s attack rating. I have no idea how the math works, but chances are it wouldn’t hurt it. Plus I’d lose my only light source. Speaking of its stats...”
Ike focused on the sound of the approaching zombie. Just like when he’d focused on touching the stone, the stat window for the zombie reappeared. It wobbled from side to side, apparently tracking the movements of the unseen monster, so Ike had a sense of its direction if not its distance. “So it’s not just touch, then. Focusing any sense will do. And it’s not just items. Monsters have stats. Then, do I?”
Ike wasn’t sure exactly what to focus on, so he just homed in on the rhythm of his heartbeat.
Isaac Fennell Level 1 Class: Artificer Age: 26 Height: 180cm Race: Astral Sex: Male Weight: 84kg Primary Attributes Agility: 4 Mettle: 5 Vigor: 5 Insight: 7 Might: 3 Wits: 9 Secondary Attributes Attack: 1 Health: 6 / 6 Defense: 1 Mana: 9 / 9 (-1) Skills Enchantment 1 Identification 1 Magic Item Improvisation 1 Spells Harvest Enchantment Minor Repair Minor Reshape
“Okay, that’s a lot to digest right now,” Ike whispered, scanning over the character sheet for anything that might be useful against a zombie. “Well, my attack and defense are garbage compared to that thing. No combat spells. What’s this Minor Reshape spell?” Upon asking the question, a new box appeared.
Minor Reshape Level 1
Molds up to one kilogram of nonliving vegetable matter into a desired shape. Items created this way are of low quality. Cannot be used on magic items.
Range: Touch Cost: 1
Ike furrowed his brow. At first glance, this didn’t seem all that useful. Then again, “nonliving vegetable matter” and “desired shape” were pretty broad terms. Even if he was limited to a kilogram or less, there were plenty of useful things in that size.
Ike could hear the zombie getting closer. He didn’t have a choice. He reactivated the stone and scanned the area for raw materials. His eyes settled on a nearby doorway. The roof of the room beyond had collapsed and the broken, rotting door was lying nearby. He rushed over to it and touched it, mentally activating the spell like he’d activated the stone.
The wood rippled and flowed in Ike’s hand like water, moving according to his will. He could hear the zombie staggering up behind him and had a very clear idea of what he wanted.
“Batter up, asshole!” Ike whirled around, carrying the centrifugal force of his spin into a one-handed swing. The newly-formed bat connected with the side of the zombie’s head, letting out a resounding crack and causing it to stumble drunkenly to the side.
Judgmental character sheet aside, Ike knew he was no heavy hitter. He’d never really played sports, so one lucky hit wasn’t about to finish the job. He dropped the stone on the ground and gripped the bat in both hands, squaring off against the zombie as it regained its footing. As the zombie turned back toward him, its face a study in slack-jawed malice, Ike took another swing at its head.
The swing went high as the zombie took a clumsy step forward, slouching into the motion. One of its hands gripped Ike’s tunic and the flesh beneath, digging its nails in.
Health: 4 / 6
Ike yelled in pain as the new notification lit up. The zombie hadn’t let go and was raising its other arm over Ike’s head. Ike’s arms were poorly positioned for the zombie being so close, so Ike brought the butt of the bat straight between its eyes instead.
The zombie released its grip on Ike’s rib cage, stumbled backward, and fell. Ike knew this was his chance. He circled past it and brought his bat down on the zombie’s head, yelling with each strike. Some of his swings were sloppy, hitting the zombie’s chest, shoulders, or arms as it thrashed around, but even the glancing blows managed to keep the zombie on the ground long enough for Ike to finish the job.
You have gained experience.
Ike dragged the bat at his side as he returned to where he’d dropped the stone. He slumped down next to it dripping with sweat, shaking from adrenaline, and panting heavily. He touched the wound under his tunic and winced, his hand coming away bloody. He viewed the message with detachment. “Yeah. Beating a man to death is a hell of an experience,” he said wearily. He’d meant it to be funny, but he couldn’t bring himself to laugh.
As Ike sat there, he examined his new weapon.
Club Durability: 1 / 4
A section of wood fashioned into a crude bludgeoning weapon.
Attack: 3
On closer inspection, it was just as crude as the description read. The surface was uneven and the balance felt off. Not exactly a Louisville slugger. Ike wondered why the interface classified it as a club rather than a bat but didn’t have the energy to speculate. Instead, he noted that it had nearly broken during its first fight. Ike activated Minor Repair and watched with tired fascination as the notched and splintering parts of the wood stitched themselves back together.
As Ike was catching his breath, he took another look at his character sheet. “What the hell is an astral?” he wondered aloud. Oddly, no prompt appeared to answer his question. Skills and spells did seem to get further explanation, though, and he spent several minutes familiarizing himself with the specialties of his class.
“Okay, so I can’t fight, heal, or blow things up,” Ike summarized aloud, “but I can do this.” Ike rose and cast Minor Reshape on his tunic, breeches, and shoes in turn. It cost him four of his remaining seven mana, but, by the time he was done, his clothes were clean, mended, and fit perfectly. “I might die in this dungeon, but at least I’ll look fabulous.”