“I said I was sorry dammit!” Yan said to Uleg as the trio took some time for a drink. They’d stripped themselves of the Shieldguard’s armor as soon as they could and were now back in their much preferred leathers. Daggers back at their belts. Seated at one of the tables in the hideout’s main room, the trio were taking a well deserved break from their successful kidnapping earlier today. But some of them were still harboring some grudges.
“I’ve got Small Blades man! Not whatever shit Skill covers fuckn’ batons!” Yan pleaded. “Cut me some damn slack!”
“But of course my dear Yan.” Uleg said in mock sympathy as he waved his mug. “How could I expect a man, any man. To not crack a fucking stick over his pal’s head as he’s holding a man from behind and in a Bind Sig.”
“Well at least I didn’t let him get away like Pollock did.” Yan muttered.
“Shut the fuck up.” Pollock said darkly. Taking a long pull from his mug before spitting out. “I got Strength you fool. Not a speed stat like you do. If anything, you’re the one who shoulda caught the bastard before he nearly jumped the wall.”
“Quiet!” Dumo shouted over the common room as everyone inside stiffened. He glowered for a moment as he stomped into the room. Eyes resting on every man there before locking on Uleg’s table.
“Just got off the Sig with the boss.” He said letting that sink in for everyone present. “He’s coming here personally to meet our guest in the meat locker. You lot. Go get our guest so we can make him ah…presentable. Few hours alone in the locker shoulda softened him up already but I want the chicken shit to fucking sing when Vike gets here.”
Chairs scraped against the wood as all three Rogues stood and rushed to do Dumo’s bidding. Only slowing down once they left the room. Pollock cracked his knuckles eager for the beating to come.
“I’ll break the bastard’s balls in. Just you wait.” He said grinning. Uleg shook his head. “Just don’t go too far alright. He still needs to be able to speak when Vike gets here.”
“Do we even need to do anything?” Yan said questioningly. “Man seemed on the verge of pissing himself the moment he woke up. I know the guild has been up to some good shit recently but I didn’t our rep was that terrifying.”
“Could be a bit of that, could be he recognized the building.” Uleg said in passing.
“Recognize the hideout!” Yan said alarmed. “How would he-”
“No not the hideout.” Uleg cut in. “The building! This was the Raving Red’s old place. You’ve heard the stories haven’t you?”
“Raving Red was real?” Pollock said blankly. “I thought he was made up, you know. A kid’s tale.”
“Naw Raving Red was real. A real scary bastard too if you believe the stories. Probably what freaked out the man so bad.”
Pollock laughed hard. “Man was scared shitless over a children’s story! Even if he was real, that was a couple hundred years ago!” Even Uleg and Yan snickered. It was rather funny. A man believing in ghosts. Everybody knew dead spirits became ghouls.
“Oi! Stop laughing. We’re here.” The door to the meat locker had seen some upgrades since it had last been used to hold carcasses. A line of finely etched Sigmata drawn around the door sucked in the sound from anyone inside. You could scream until your lungs came out and nobody on the other side would hear a thing. Even if the door was open.
Working the latch on the door Uleg opened it expecting the prisoner to be at the door, trying to make a break for freedom like he had before. But he was in the same spot he had fallen hours before. Arms still held behind his back by Pollock’s Bind Sigmata. He was kneeling on the floor. Head bowed forward as he twitched every other second. Mouth working soundlessly, his words cut out by the Silencing Sig.
Pushing the door all the way open Uleg made his way inside with Yan and Pollock right behind. He almost felt bad for the man, he looked completely hopeless. Smothering the small sense of pity he felt Uleg looked to Pollock.
“No more than a few good licks alright?” Revenge was fine but with Pollock’s strength, just a few blows might be enough to kill the man. He was only level one after all.
“Hm…fine.” Pollock said grumpily.
The prisoner was still speaking softly to himself. Not even reacting to them having entered the room. “No, no, no no… it’s all wrong. My… thoughts are wrong. This…this is not…my flesh Mother… Not my skin.”
Granted, knowing what would be waiting for him once he left could leave any man a broken mess. But this just seemed…wrong. Like the man in front of him was a completely different person than the one who’d entered just hours before.
“Shut up you bastard!” Pollock shouted. He raised his knuckles as the three of them approached the kneeling man. “I’m gonna pay you back for before you hear me?”
The Prisoner’s eyes immediately focused on them and Uleg had to keep himself from taking a step back at the unblinking intensity of his gaze. His head rolled to the side like a animal cocking its head as his stare bored into them.
“Who are these men Mother?” His voice a low rumble. Like the tremble of the earth before a storm. “Did they take my thoughts? My skin?”
“Pollock you’ve got the points in Strength, go get him.” Yan said warily. More than a little perturbed by the man’s mad ravings. None of the three had moved closer to the kneeling man. Even though they knew he was only level one. It was ridiculous but they couldn’t shake the sense of danger the man gave off. Like a rabid animal backed into a corner.
“They did this to me.” His voice shuddered, the hate so palpable it left the man trembling. “They took them from me…”
The Prisoner’s tone went from quiet to spitting venom in an instant. His voice going guttural and raw.
“I’ll gut you dead! Peel back your skin until the red drowns the rats! Till your bleeding! Screaming! Dying! And there’s nothing left but the red!”
The prisoner dug both of his feet into the stone and hurled himself forward, screaming. Pollock being the one closest to the man cried out as the man fell upon him. His swing completely missing as the man jumped up and onto him, bringing his head down. Pollock’s cry grew into a wail of anguished pain as the prisoner bit down on his ear and tore off a chunk with his teeth.
Yan drew his dagger as Pollock managed to throw the mad man off of him. Yan charged and swiped at the man as Pollock stumbled back spitting curses and clutching the side of his head. But even with Yan’s Small Blades Skill the mad man seemed to lean out of every swipe Yan made. It shouldn’t have been possible with Yan at level two and putting both points into Dexterity but somehow the man kept up. The both of them moving back and forth as they weaved between the hanging hooks.
Uleg shouted drawing his knife as well but hanging back. “Get around and flank him!” Hoping that Pollock wasn’t so blinded by the pain that he couldn’t fight.
The prisoner bared his teeth in a red grin, chunk of flesh still between his teeth before he, in a move that disgusted Uleg to his core. Spit the chunk of ear at Yan. To his credit the man only flinched back for a moment but that brief window was all the prisoner needed. With his hands still tied behind his back he burst forward, his leg whipping up and delivering a heel kick to the side of Yan’s head. The knife in his hands slipping from his limp hand to clatter on the floor.
Pollock ran towards the prisoner with murder in his eyes, fists up and too blinded with fury to draw the dagger at his own waist as Uleg came around with his own dagger. The prisoner dived to the floor rolling out of the way of Pollock’s charge and coming up with Yan’s groaning form between himself and Uleg. There was a sickening crack as the prisoner raised both arms from behind his back to straight above his head as his shoulders dislocated. The man shivered, sighing with relief as he brought his dislocated shoulders forward and they popped back into their sockets. Yan’s blade held almost reverently in hands as it gleamed in the dark. As sharp as the man’s smile.
Uleg braced himself next to Stu as he groggily got his legs under him. He stared at the prisoner unable to imagine how this could have gone so terribly wrong. Where was this ferocity? This madness the last time they had fought this fool? Taking him down had been almost laughably easy aside from his one solid blow to Pollock’s balls. The madman before them was a completely different creature from the blubbering idiot they had fought yesterday.
Uleg made a decision. Whatever the fuck was happening was way beyond him. He didn’t give a shit if he was mocked for the rest of his life for running away from a level one while he was two levels higher. Fuck ‘em. This man was bat shit insane.
“We have to get the others.” Uleg said straining to keep his voice from quaking. The damn silencing Sigs on the cell would keep anything more than a muffle from leaving the cell. And he didn’t want to put his back to this man for even a moment. He’d thought for a moment about holding out until help arrived to check on them but disregarded it immediately. Not just because he didn’t trust a single one of those bastards upstairs but because he wanted to get as far away from this deranged psycho as possible.
“Damn you!” Pollock shrieked as he held his bleeding ear. Still blinded by pain and hatred. “I’ll make you wish we left you for the fucking chum fish!”
“We have to get the others!” Uleg repeated. As if those words would be enough to convince Pollock that they stood no chance against the man before them.
Smiling big and wide eyed the former prisoner stalked forward. A predator on the hunt.
Pollock gave in and charged the man again. Unable to hold himself back. Meaty fists raised as he put all his faith in his Strength. The man darted forward and even with both wrists still bound Yan’s knife flickered out at Pollock’s wide frame. For a few moments Pollock was able to keep swinging as the knife opened him up. Then all of a sudden. He staggered forward as he lost his balance. Ribbons of red streaming down his arms and chest. Swaying out of the way of Pollock’s last desperate swing. The man stepped to the side and with both hands on the blade, drove it into his side. One palm pushing against the pommel until the dagger was buried to its hilt in meat and muscle.
Pollock screamed. Just as Uleg and Yan did as they raced for the door and left one of their own behind.
Pollock fell to his knees as he groped at the hilt sticking out of his ribs. Before he could pull the blade out hands wrenched one of his arms behind his back. The movement so sudden he missed his chance to use his Strength to his advantage. A far too calm voice spoke from behind.
“Now. Break the Binding please.” The prisoner said. Sounding bored as he forced Pollock’s arm back. The one with the Bind Sigmata on it. He planted a heel into Pollack’s back to keep his arm straight back, taking away any leverage Pollock might have had.
“F-fuh…Fuck yoaah!” he cried out as the Prisoner yanked on his arm hard. Almost dislocating it. Tears streamed from Pollock’s eyes as he wordlessly dumped the required mana necessary to break the Sigmata’s binding. The light band that held together the prisoner’s wrists disappearing in an instant. Pollock gaped for air as the grip on his arm relaxed and he fell forward.
Pollock would have fallen to the ground if a pair of hands didn’t catch him from behind. Mind numb with the pain, he barely registered the man speaking softly into the ruin of his mangled ear.
“There there. Don’t fear now. Here…” He felt the man rest a hand on his head. Like he was petting a dog. “Let me help you up.”
All at once the hand on his head grabbed a fistful of his hair and the prisoner’s other hand grabbed his belt for leverage. Heaving the man off the ground. Towards a shining meat hook.
It wasn’t much. There were no points in strength in his new body after all. But that was fine. The meat hook was only a short distance away. The last thing Pollock saw was the curve of a dangling hook before he caught it with his head. His body shuddering in his death spasms as he swung just inches off the floor.
[You have slain a level 2 Human (Bruiser)]
[Small Blades has increased from level 1 to level 2]
[You have 5 skill point available]
The man that wasn’t Toby Kincaid smiled at his new prize and the Skill notification. A sign that the True Mother, the Akashic. Blessed his actions. His mind was still full of questions, not understanding how he came to be in this situation. But seeing a Skill rise in level and being praised for it by the True Mother was a feeling that surpassed all others. Opening his status he felt a strange resistance when reading. As if the information there wasn’t really his to read. He frowned as the sight before him was blurred beyond recognition.
[Name: Rykas Asuliel]
[Race: V@r!#nt Human]
[Level: 1]
[Class: Sp3!*br3@k3r]
[Dexterity: 3]
[Wisdom: 0]
[Abilities: Mi7$ Ov3! M@g!%]
[Skills: Small Blades 2, Sneak 1, Meditation 1]
Everything was…wrong. Even his name felt wrong in its status. And the rest of it all. Level one? And why was his class so unreadable? He could tell it was something else. His class had been… Rykas shook his head at the gap in his mind. There were too many things wrong. Too many questions.
Then there was everything else. A Wisdom stat? Meditation? Why would he ever need a useless skill like Meditation? And three Dexterity at level one? That should have been impossible for any but the High Houses to afford. Attribute crystals were rare to begin with so how had he gotten two Dexterity crystals? He held up one of his hands. The skin was soft, with none of the calluses that should have marked a man with a weapon Skill. What had happened to his body?
He wanted to delve into his status, pour over every detail of it to piece together the truth of his new body. And why his favorite Skill, Small Blades, had only been level one. But he knew he had to move, those weaklings that had fled would bring more without a doubt.
But this place had once been his domain. His sanctuary from the weakness that plagued the world. Where he had practiced his blade work uninterrupted for so long. He knew exactly what he was going to do.
Pulling his new dagger out of the hanging corpse he strode out of his former cell. Rykas bit down on the blade with his teeth and jumped off the wall to grab onto the low hanging beam that held up the ceiling. Pulling himself up onto it he made it just in time to hear the shouting from down the hall. He wasted no time as he stalked forward along the narrow beam as men with crossbows, all dressed like street rats and thugs, came out of the door to the common room and prepared to fire into the hallway.
He held perfectly still as a large man. Larger than any of the others stood behind the line of crossbowmen as he glared into the hallway and the open door at its end. He felt his eyes roam over his position and slide off as he hid well enough to be rewarded.
[Sneak has increased from level 1 to 2]
[You have 10 skill points available]
Suppressing a shiver of delight. Rykas reveled in the level he’d gained before a voice from the hall brought him back to the present.
“He fuckin’ killed Pollock I swear!” The voice even trembled a bit as he cried out. “The man’s possessed! He bit off his ear man. His fuckin’ ear!”
“I don’t give a damn about that stupid fuck!” The man turned and glared at the man who had spoken up. The same one that had fled Rykas’ practice room. “And if he got himself killed by a level one then he deserved to die. If he comes this way, then we plug him with bolts until he looks like a Quill Bear.”
Moving from one beam to another as they crossed each other. Rykas squeezed between a gap in the wood that would have led into another room if it hadn’t been almost completely filled with rubble. He bit back a scream of rage at the state of his home. What had happened here? How had so much changed in the past…
Rykas felt a headache come on as he tried to recall memories that wouldn’t come. His fury only grew further as the conversation from the other room carried through the wall.
“But what if he-!” The voice cut off as a meaty slap rang through the air as someone fell to the ground.
“The only exit.” The big man said plainly. Like you would to a child. “Is through. This. Room. I don’t care how crazy he is, a level one is level one. Even if he has a bit of Agility or Dex. He ain’t getting through all of us.”
Rykas contorted through the narrow space. Blade held between his teeth as he crawled forward. The narrow space so tight it pinned his arms to his side as he wriggled through. Pressing his cheek and chin against the rough wood to help his body forward.
I’m not crazy. Rykas thought to himself. You’re all the crazy ones. He just couldn’t understand it for the life of him. How could so many people just…exist in the same room as each other? When the Mother awarded power and skills for every kill the idea of…mingling with such wasted beings was almost impossible to comprehend. Any living human with a level below five was without purpose. Their flesh only good for practice and further honing power. The only people who were real were those who rose above the sickening mediocrity of the world.
Those above level five, were simply higher beings. The Mother herself made it so with her Class Up at that level. A level that Rykas had the pleasure of experiencing before…
With a shake of his head and silent snarl at the lack of answer in his memory he looked over his recently gained skill points. And immediately decided on where they should go. The fact that there were no points in his Small Blades Skill or either of the combat focused trees that branched off from it was almost too ridiculous to believe. That was a problem that needed to be resolved immediately.
[Small Blades Skill Tree]
[Slash: Continuously chain slashing attacks with a small blade. Can be interrupted.]
[Stab: A strike that drives deep into an opponent. Can be used to pierce light armor.]
[Critical Strikes: Your attacks naturally seek critical areas on an enemy. Critical strike chance increases with level.]
[Thrown Blade: Your accuracy when throwing small blades is increased. Increased accuracy with level.]
Rykas took all four skills. Only upgrading two skills beyond their first level, Critical Strikes and Slash. It would be imperative for him to able to deal as much damage as possible once he entered the next room. With only two point left. He made to open the next Skill Tree.
[Sneak Attack Skill Tree]
[Sneak Attack: Your strike on an unaware enemy deals greatly increased damage. Takedowns unlocked at higher Skill levels.]
[Chain Strike: If your first Sneak attack is successful you can immediately Sneak Attack another enemy. Plus one chained enemy per level.]
It chafed Rykas to no end that he only had the two points to spend for something as important as Sneak, but he steadied himself. With such a low level he would likely only get a small window to strike with Sneak Attack anyway. It was unfortunate. But couldn’t be helped. He spent the last two points split between Sneak Attack and Chain Strikes.
Not wasting another moment Rykas crawled out of the gap in the wall that let him slip onto the top of another wooden banister. He moved as quietly as possible. Taking each step one by one as he surveyed the room underneath him.
The majority of the men in the room were gathered by the entrance to the hallway that lead to his former cell. Five men were loosely shifting as they pointed their crossbows down the hall. A large man, the largest in the room. Stood behind them glaring down the hall. The two men who had ran from him were in the center of the room. Whispering between each other. And another four men were scattered around the room. Twelve in all then. A worthy test.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“Uleg.” The big man said from the front of the room as the tension mounted. “If you want to make yourself useful. Go and get the others. I want this mess fixed before Vike finds out what’s going on.”
“I’m on my way.” He said sounding relieved. He made his way through the four men in the back started making his way towards the door leading outside. Rykas didn’t hesitate. Timing his leap off the banister so he fell directly over the man. Gripping his blade tight, blade pointed downward his momentum did the work of driving the blade into the man’s neck as Rykas rode his body to the ground. His pained scream cutting off as his head connected with the stone floor. Rykas instantly pushing away the kill notifications for the battle to come.
The world seemed to freeze as every head in the room turned to look as Rykas ripped his blade free. He saw it all plain as day on every face in the room. The shock, the horror, the anger. And then it all began with a rush.
“Fucking shoot him!” The large man roared as the crossbowmen leveled their sights, but Rykas was already moving. Empowered by the Chain Strike he crossed the distance to the nearest thug in a blink. Driving his knife into his belly as he immediately bent over with pain. Rykas caught the man’s collar and pulled himself close. His body shuddering as he used the man to catch the barrage of bolts aimed for him. Before he let the corpse fall to the ground Rykas’ yanked his dagger free, using his off hand to pull a knife from the bandoleer on the dead man’s chest as he flicked it through the air. The blade whirring for an instant before sinking deep into an unarmored man’s chest, his hands grasping weakly at the steel as he fell back.
Three down. Nine to go.
The three men left standing nearest Rykas charged at once. Drawing blades as they circled a table to get close to him, two on one side and the last on the other alone. Rykas rushed to attack the lone man before he was ganged up on by the two thugs. Kicking a chair into his legs to trip him up, the man leaped over the chair. Knife swinging down to strike. Rykas raised his hands to block the falling blade at the wrist as he leaned back. Letting the man bring him to the ground as he used his momentum to roll on top of him. The half a second it took for the man to reorient himself was all the time Rykas needed to draw his blade across the man’s throat.
“Casper, no!” Someone screamed as the other two thugs arrived. The next seconds devolving into a flurry of strikes and counters as Rykas struggled to push his pathetically meager Small Blades skill against others who clearly possessed higher skill levels. Rykas snarled as a blade opened a wound on his arm. Leaning hard into his higher attributes he danced between strike after strike. He caught sight the table out of the corner of his eye and took a step back towards it. Reaching a hand back, he gripped his new weapon hard as one of his two attackers moved ahead of the other. His eyes going wide with triumph as he closed in for the kill.
Rykas barely managed to deflect the man’s dagger with his blade hand but that was all he needed. With stat driven speed he drove the steel fork between the gap in his armor and deep into the man’s armpit, feeling the vibration in his hand as the tongs scraped against the bones of his shoulder. His knife slipping from his hand, the man screamed as he was blinded by the pain before Rykas buried his knife in the man’s neck. The last man to face him came in close. Without time to rip his knife free from the corpse’s neck Rykas raised an arm, barely deflecting the man’s arm enough for the blade to miss his heart and drive deep into his shoulder.
The pain from the wound was bright in his mind but it was only a flickering candle compared to the fury that consumed him in that instant. He was a higher being. Destined to receive all the power the Great Mother offered her chosen. And this… this filth had dared wound him. Clamping hard on the man’s wrist before he could remove his blade Rykas lashed out with his other hand. Slashing at the man’s face with only the nails on his fingers. Clawing at him like a savage beast instead of a man. The man tried to fall back but Rykas didn’t let go of his arm.
Before the man could get himself free, he screamed as a blinding agony tore into his face. He forgot about the crazed man in front of him as he raised a hand to his ruined left eye. Rykas aimed a kick out at the edge of the table, sending it crashing on its side while his opponent was overcome by his wound. Dragging the screaming man to the ground as crossbows unloaded their bolts into the top of the overturned table. Still filled with the fury of being wounded, and having bought himself a few seconds alone. Rykas unloaded blow after blow on the man’s head. Spittle flying from his mouth as he screamed over the man’s pleas for mercy. The knife laying forgotten in his shoulder as he savaged the man.
He’d been so focused on slamming the man’s head open onto the hard wood floor that he almost missed the shadow of a man appearing behind him.
“You killed Casper you bastard!” The man roared. Tears streaming from his eyes.
In the split second he registered the man behind him Rykas rolled, pulling the savaged corpse he’d been beating on top of him to catch the man’s crossbow bolt. Rykas shuddered as he felt the tip of the bolt almost pierce his stomach as it over penetrated his makeshift shield. Grimacing as he saw the man instantly reload his crossbow with another bolt. The man had a crossbow Skill.
Rykas couldn’t fathom why he hadn’t fired on him while he’d been entangled fighting the others. Even if he killed one of his own by accident, what did that matter if you received Experience for the kill anyway? Whatever strange belief had held his hand before was clearly gone now as he fired bolt after bolt trying to aim for exposed bits of flesh. The next few seconds devolved into a mad scramble as Rykas had to shift the corpse above himself constantly, catching bolt after bolt. As the man continued to rant, moving closer to try and aim a bolt at any exposed flesh.
Before the man could end him Rykas whipped out a leg, catching the man’s ankle midstride and sending a bolt off course as he fell to the ground. At once Rykas heaved the pincushioned corpse off of himself and ripped the dagger out of his shoulder. Climbing on top of the man, he didn’t even even draw the blade back to strike before he drove it deep into the man’s chest, twisting the dagger between his ribs. There was a moment the man under him heaved, before the breath left his body. The glimmer of more unshed tears shining even as the light died in his eyes.
Four more down. Five to go.
Rykas reached for the handle of his dagger with one hand and grasped the stock of the crossbow with the other. Glad the man had reloaded it for him before he died. Rising smoothly over the rim of the overturned table as the stock met his shoulder and his finger found the trigger. Other arm coming up so he could balance the other end of the crossbow over his arm to keep it steady. Aiming even as he clenched his dagger. The remaining men were clearly panicked now. Even the hulking brute that let the others do the dying for him. There were four of them that had crossbows and clearly didn’t posses the same level of skill as the man who Rykas had just killed, judging by their extended reloading time.
One of them had just finished cranking back the string for his bolt and looked up to see Rykas aiming for him. Mouth parting into a small “o”. Rykas grimaced at using a weapon without any Skill designed to work with it. But crossbows were simple weapons. You didn’t need a skill to align the iron sights with a body or to pull the trigger.
Even as close as he was the bolt flew slightly too far up and to the left to hit center mass where Rykas had been aiming, but it still found the man all the same. The bolt caught the man in the meat of his neck and blood fountained out of the wound like it flowed from the Skystream itself.
Dropping the crossbow the instant after he fired Rykas darted towards the panicked men still in the middle of their reload. He could feel the heat in his chest. The compounding of sensations that always came before a level up. He was close. So close to reaching the next level in his class. The brief distraction of his own increase in power was almost enough for the chair to take his head.
The large man among the other thugs, their leader most likely. Had been content to shout orders while his underlings did their dying for him. Until now. The man, who without a doubt poured all his attributes into strength reached for a chair at one of the tables. The thickened wood of the thing groaning as the man pulled his arm back and hurled it forward. The chair actually whistling through the air as it blurred towards Rykas.
I hate strength builds. Rykas thought to himself as he turned his run into a slide. Barely avoiding a chair leg as it ruffled his hair in its passing. He didn’t see the chair collide with the wall behind him, but judging by the sound of the exploding wood and the sprinkle of splinters on his back the thug in charge must have had at least a four in Strength. Maybe even five. Combined with the Attribute Ability gained at level five he would be the most immediate threat. Even if he’d spent the whole fight on the sidelines. That level of power could not be ignored.
Coming up from his slide before one of the frightened men still holding a crossbow. He vainly tried raising the weapon to fire but Rykas was already there. Pushing the weapon down so the bolt harmlessly fired into the floor. Utilizing the last of his momentum Rykas drove a knee into the man’s groin. That brief moment the man was completely stunned was all he needed to bury his dagger in the man’s open and screaming mouth. Shutting him up as a gurgle of red splattered the hilt between his teeth as Rykas freed his blade, letting the man fall dead.
Before the body could hit the ground Rykas was already moving. The sound of another chair scraping as it was lifted from the floor as Rykas closed on the big brute. Already getting ready to hurl another chair at him. Standing where he was in a small clearing in the room Rykas didn’t have any immediate cover. And at the speed the man could throw meant he wouldn’t be dodging the next chair thrown at him. Not this close. Rykas ran forward anyway, and just as the brute threw his hands grabbed a chair of his own. Bringing up the thick wood of the seat and bracing himself just in time to feel the chair smash into him.
The force of the blow was enough to lift Rykas off the ground. His paltry shield breaking into pieces as it came apart. He hit the ground with a rain of wood fragments and splinters. Rolling backwards with his fall and coming back up in a crouch. Skidding to a stop as he glared with naked fury towards the last of the intruders in his sanctuary. His knife was gone, lost somewhere among the broken wood and blood staining the floor. His fingers twitched, hands clenching an unclenching as he tested their functionality through the burning pain and numbness running up his forearms. Not even bothering to remove the splinters sticking out of his skin. Lines of red trickling in slow streams down his arms.
The brute stared incredulously at the level One that had singlehandedly slaughtered most of the men under his command. A level fucking One! He wouldn’t have believed it in a million years if it hadn’t happened right before his eyes. Even his last two Rogues were staring dumbfounded and horrified at the carnage. He hadn’t meant to say a word but his mouth was already moving before he could stop it.
“Who are you?” he said shakily. As his former prisoner rose from his crouch. Picking up two knife sharp lengths of wood that had been chair legs mere seconds ago. He was bleeding, but Dumo knew the most of the blood that spattered his body wasn’t his. Madness danced in his eyes as he smiled warmly. As if he hadn’t been butchering his men a minute ago. Like a friend sharing a secret.
“I am Her chosen.” He said sweetly as he stepped forward. Twirling his improvised weapons as he stared hungrily at the last people alive in the room. “And I will not be denied.”
Rykas moved. Sprinting at the big man as he pulled back a meaty fist. Finally out of things to throw. The stakes in his hands weren’t what Rykas would have preferred but he could feel his Small Blades skill just barely encompass them as he charged. Ducking under the first swing. His right arm flashed out twice, driving the needle sharp point of the wood deep into the fat of the man’s side. He spun away from the follow up punch as the man’s last living companions joined him in the melee.
For a time the stalemate held. The three men pushing back just enough to keep the butcher at bay, to force him to pull back when he would try to commit to a killing blow. But despite their experience as seasoned fighters they had never trained together. Never recognized each other’s strengths or weaknesses enough to cover for them in a battle. So when the first man faltered, his boot slipping in another man’s spilled blood. He was the first to die.
Within the breadth of a heartbeat Rykas was there. Ready to end the man for his moment of weakness. The man raised his blade to block, but the spike of wood being wielded against him was longer than he realized. Almost the size of a short sword instead of a large dagger. What would have been a solid guard against a knife was woefully lacking against the longer sharpened wood. The tip of the stake went deep into his neck as his eyes went wide with more surprise than pain. As if he couldn’t believe what he’d just seen and felt.
With the last of his strength he made a feeble attempt at a slash at his killer but failed. His fingers loosening on his dagger as his strike was deflected upwards. The dagger sailing into the air. Rykas let go of the stake he’d run through the man’s throat. Abandoning it as he ducked another haymaker from the large man. Putting himself in range of his enemy's last ally. His stake came up to strike, meeting the other man’s blade and knowing with absolute certainty that he’d made a mistake.
The Disarm Sub-skill had been available in Small Blades’s upgrade menu, but Rykas had ignored it in favor of dealing out more damage with the other Sub-skills. Trusting in his own ability and experience to slay his enemies. That sub-skill he’d ignored, the one that the man in front of him clearly possesses sent his stake spinning away with an impossible flick of his blade. His weakened grip no match for the Disarm.
“Tch.” Rykas grimaced in irritation. Even for him that had been sloppy.
Now, where was that other one? He thought to himself. Casually stepping out of range of the swipe that would have opened his neck. Taking a measured step towards a specific part of the floor. The man with the blade grinning triumphantly as he closed on his weaponless enemy. The falling blade that had been sent airborne completed its arc in the brief seconds after it’s owner’s death. Falling into an outstretched palm as Rykas deftly stepped towards his attacker. Driving the dagger deep into the man’s chest as his own momentum carried him forward.
Rather than dying like he was supposed to, being stabbed seemed to give the man some frenzied strength. His arms coming around and restraining Rykas’s movements. Even as he coughed up curses and blood in equal measure. Rykas desperate to be free of the man’s grip stabbed him again and again. Three, four, five times.
Too late.
The brief moment the dying man bought was all Dumo needed. Pounding forward despite the pain of the wounds in his side, he delivered a savage haymaker that would have taken the butcher’s head clean off had he not contorted himself at the last second. Placing the body of his dead underling between himself and the descending blow. Dumo’s Strength enhanced fist slammed into the corpse, the snapping of the dead man’s ribs cracking through the air as the force of the blow transferred into Rykas. The arm holding up his recently deceased shield snapping under the force as he was shot back like a cannon ball.
Rykas bounced off the ground once before he slammed into the wall. The aged wood cracking under the impact as Rykas fell to the ground. And to Dumo’s shock, began to rise.
“What the fuck are you?” He said breathlessly. As the man in front of him rose to his knees. Left arm flopping uselessly as he stared back with blood shot eyes.
“Oh Mother…” He said serenely, as he held up his broken arm. As if it were some toy that had broken instead of his own body.
“I’ve broken my new skin. Oh Mother, sweet Mother… Will you give me another I wonder?”
“Why won’t you just fucking die already!” Dumo roared. Not daring to admit to himself that he didn’t want to get any closer to the monster on the floor. Even to finish him off.
“Why are you here?! You a Red Brand draft dodger? Some Silk Spinner assassin or some shit? What the fuck do you want?” Dumo thundered at the man.
“Power.” The man said hungrily, blood and flecks of spittle flying from his mouth. He grinned, red blood staining his teeth as his good hand dropped to the floor and picked up the dagger that had dropped as he’d been launched. Rising slowly but steadily to his feet.
“I’m so close, I can almost taste it… All I need…” He said smiling with glee. “All I need is you.”
Rykas licked his lips as he thought of the gift to come. One more life and Mother would reward him with the level up he so rightly deserved. It would still be a far cry from his old level of power but that could be worked out later. Now there was only one thing to think about.
“Fucking try me.” Dumo said snarling. He made fists with both his hands and pounded his knuckles together. The Sigmata lines written into his arms came to life in an instant. The working twisting and moving as one to layer themselves over the man’s hands. After half a second the large man was armed with two spectral white knuckledusters with brutally barbed tips.
Rykas darted forward, powering through the mounting fatigue and tiredness of fighting a battle for too long. He’d gone into the fight assuming that his experience could make up for his lower stats and Skill levels. And while it had seen him through all the fighting it was clear that he was reaching his limit. Or at least the limit of the new body he found himself in. While he had been accumulating wounds however his opponent was relatively unharmed despite some wounds in his side.
Rykas closed in blade held in a reverse grip as his enemy pulled back a fist to strike. At ten paces away, well before Rykas was within range. Dumo hurled a punch at him. The brief moment of confusion Rykas felt seeing a punch thrown too early fled in an instant as the knuckleduster separated from the other man’s fist and crossed the space between them in a blink. Nearly taking his head clean off. The spectral strike hit and exploded against the backwall, a testament to how much strength the man could put into his strikes.
Dodging a second flying knuckle that blew apart a table. Rykas struck out with his dagger, carving red lines on the man’s arms as his Sigmata spun up new Knuckles to replace the ones that had just been fired. It went on like this for some time, Rykas darting in close to deliver a strike before being forced back by Dumo’s new ranged advantage. Empowered strikes blowing chunks of the floor apart as Rykas danced between strike after strike. In his mind he knew he only had to bide his time. The man was quickly burning through his own mana reserves and stored charges for his attacks. It was only a matter of time before he could bring his blade across the man’s throat.
Rykas reveled in the killing he had done today. Ecstatic that he still had his old capabilities after whatever had brought him here in the first place. But there was something…wrong. Within the depths of his own twisted thoughts there was something that looked out through his eyes. The feeling of it had been almost imperceptible at first. Only flaring up when he had opened his own altered Status screen. But the strength of it had grown with every kill he had made. The pressure of it mounting in his mind like the rising of the tide.
An overwhelming horror that was not his own.
For the first time since he had awoken Rykas felt doubt. As the force of the thing in his mind started flailing. Fighting back against him.
What is this magic? He thought to himself as he dodged again and again. The pressure in his mind had only taken away his attention from the fight for a moment but it almost cost him his life.
His foot found one of the floor boards ripped apart by a magic strike and despite his Dexterity his ankle bent at a painful angle before he could pull it back. Rykas barely recovering in time to keep from rolling it and becoming useless. His mistake was one that Dumo immediately took advantage of. Already winding up a strike before Rykas lost his footing. Dumo sent two flying knuckles one after the other straight towards Rykas’ chest.
Unable to dodge to the side with his uneven footing. Rykas bent backwards as far as his body would allow. His spine parallel to the floor as the air parted above him. The two knuckles passing through the spaces where his heart and stomach were just a moment before.
Slamming into the splintered floor Rykas grunted as small spikes of wood dug into his back. He had just freed his leg when the shadow of Dumo loomed above him. Leg raised up to stomp through his chest. With only the one working arm and a damaged leg Rykas flung his arm out and drove his knife into the solid wood of the floor. Using his knife as leverage to pull himself away from the stomp that fell like a guillotine. Rykas rolled away for all he was worth as Dumo tried to crush the life out of him over and over.
Barely recovering himself as he rolled up unto his knees. Rykas whipped his blade out and grinned as his wild strike, guided by his Critical Strike Sub-skill, found the fragile tendons in the big man’s ankle. With a cry of rage and pain the big man collapsed onto a knee as his leg failed to support his weight.
Scrambling to get away, Rykas felt a bone crushing grip close around his ankle as he was yanked backwards. Right under Dumo’s waiting fist. As the death blow came down he barely had the time to move his head out of the way as the fist buried itself into the floor. The ground splintering around the force of the impact. The splinters splashing the side of his face as something hit his eye. Forcing it shut.
With Small Blades and its upgrades guiding his hand. Rykas drove the tip of his blade into the massive wrist holding his leg and like he’d done so many times before. Dragged the blade all the way up through the arteries and veins of his arm till the blade came out at his elbow.
Blood rushed out of the man’s arm as he reflexively dropped his hold on Rykas. Screaming as he brought his other hand over the weeping wound. His hand only covering half of the lethal wound.
With his guard down trying to staunch the bleeding. Rykas lunged. His blade sinking deep into the man’s eye as he screamed in rage. One of Dumo’s meaty hands closed around Rykas’ throat. His one good eye glaring with hatred as he tried to force his dying body to crush the man’s throat.
Gagging as Dumo’s gripped tightened. Rykas was lifted into the air by his throat. His empty hands couldn’t reach Dumo’s head and his dagger stuck in his eye but Rykas kept his composure. Using his unbroken arm to grip Dumo’s arm holding him, he lifted himself up. Aiming a kick with his good leg at Dumo’s head.
With his other arm disabled and weeping blood. Dumo had no hands free to stop the kick that hit the pommel of the dagger and drove the point of it through the back of his skull. His form shuddering violently as he released Rykas and fell dead to the floor.
Rykas rolled away to get some distance from the corpse. Trying to stand but the ankle that Dumo had gripped gave almost immediately under his weight. Putting all his weight on his good leg, broken arm still dangling uselessly at his side. Rykas sighed with contentment and even a little relief. The battle was won.
“Hmph. Strength builds.” Rykas said dispassionately as he tried to stay standing. Letting the notifications roll on in.
[You have slain five level 2 Humans (Thug)]
[You have slain three level 2 Humans (Lookout)]
[You have slain three level 3 Humans (Thief)]
[You have slain one level 3 Human (Crossbowman)]
[You have slain one level 5 Human (Bruiser)]
[Congratulations. Your level has increased from 1 to 2]
Rykas shivered as he felt the level wash over him. The rush of energy from the Great Mother’s favor already working on his wounds. It would still take time for the arm and ankle to heal but the injuries felt more bearable now. As if they were less significant to his higher level body than they should be. He was about to move on from his slaughter to heal and find more easily won experience when his newest notification froze him in place.
[You have 3 Attribute points available]
Rykas stared at the number. Not one. But three. Three entire attribute points. For a single level! That wasn’t possible. Every human only received a single attribute point.
With a thought Rykas opened his status screen and forced through the resistance that was keeping him from seeing it clearly. Until he could focus on a detail that had eluded him the first time he’d looked.
[Race: Variant Human]
[Description: A Human that has evolved on a dead world to survive without the lifegiving nature of mana. Their bodies, starved of mana, devour it at a level far higher than normal humans. Allowing them to receive more power from the Akashic. Without any previous exposure to mana, their mana pools are smaller than even those of children. But their unique biology has resulted in them being able to regenerate mana at a truly prodigious rate. They are new to this world. Raw potential made manifest.]
[Racial Bonuses: Plus three Attribute points per level]
[Negative 300% Mana Pool capacity]
[300% increase to Mana Regeneration]
Puzzles that Rykas had been unable to glean fell into place as he continued to stare into the screen. This body hadn’t received any attribute crystals at all. It only had the points it had received at level one. With flick of thought and still unable to believe what he was seeing, he put two more points until his dexterity reached five points. He felt the shiver of sensation across his skin as his body adapted to the change. And a new screen opened up in front of him as his face split into a monstrous grin.
[Attribute Ability Available: Please select a Common rarity Attribute Ability from the list below]
[Dexterity Attribute Abilities]
[Fast Hands]
[Acrobatics]
[Mobile]
[Uncanny Dodge]
[Light Step]
Rykas still couldn’t believe it. At level two he should have had to wait for months, possible even years to get enough experience to level up to level five. That was how it had always been. But that was not how it would be for him. He was chosen. And this revelation only made clear that the Great Mother approved of his actions and wanted him to continue. With the three points he gained per level he could reach the next Uncommon Attribute Ability milestone at ten points by level four! And every other Ability that lay beyond that.
Rare. Epic. Even the mythical Legendary.
The chuckle started deep in his chest. Bubbling up out of the darkness of his soul, rising until they met the surface. Rykas laughed. Harder and longer than he’d ever done before. Until he was practically howling with the joy of it.
“I’ll be a god!” He yelled. Uncaring at any who could hear. “I’ll purge the weakness from this world for you Mother! One by one! Until there are none but the Worthy! There will be none it this entire world that can stop-”
Rykas felt a piercing agony in his mind as he tried to focus. Holding his one good hand to his head. He reflexively opened his status screen to find the status effect that was affecting him and stared uncomprehending at what he saw.
The screen was changing before his eyes as the pain mounted in his skull. Not his class or abilities but the most fundamental aspect of his personal screen, something that should have been impossible.
[Name: Ry#%k@s Asu?*iel (Display Error Present: Present descriptor no longer accurate. Correcting)]
[Name: R%oby Kin&$iel (Display Error Present: Present descriptor no longer accurate. Correcting)]
He slipped to the ground and held onto the edge of a table that had survived the battle. His mind was sinking somehow. Falling into the black of unconsciousness, not out of pain, but because something else was taking its place. Rykas’ knuckles turned white as they gripped the wood. As if he could hold on by physical strength alone.
As he felt himself falling away he gazed one last time at the still open screen in front of him. Carving the new name there in his mind. It was a promise. Of hatred and vengeance on the one who would dare defile his new body. The one the Great Mother had given to him.
“Kincaid.”
The name was the last thought in his mind as Rykas fell away. And something else. Someone else. Took his place.