The screeching lichenthrope quieted down, and a new shriek emanated from the other side of the dead tree. Jun was already moving, cutting down an inactive lichenthrope as she charged into the fray. We had about twenty seconds to cause as much destruction as we could and get out. The first victim crumpled to the ground, bronze tendrils slithering soundlessly into the ground while the moss inside dried out and lost all of its inner light. That was one gamble paid off.
I stepped into a swing with my short blade, feeling it catch on the bronze tendrils around a lichenthrope’s neck and struggling to bring it all the way through. Precious seconds scraped by while my sword scraped through the mossy neck of the monster, my muscles and armor working in tandem to bring this thing to its end.
With a grunt and a pop the lichenthrope’s head fell to the ground, the body crumpling immediately after. I huffed out a sigh and turned to the next closest creature, winding up another strike that severed its head in one clean motion. I noted that this one’s tendrils were wound horizontally around its neck, in comparison to the first one’s vertical makeup, and I must have caught it perfectly between two tendrils to kill it that easily.
Seven seconds left. I whirled around, scanning for the closest monster with horizontal tendrils, and lept in with a spinning slash to sever one last head before sprinting back to a safe distance. I nodded at Jun when she jogged up to meet me, then sat back to watch the aftermath of our hit-and-run attack.
“So far so good.” Jun whispered as the active Lichenthrope went inactive. Another took its place immediately, and the cycle continued. “I managed to get seven of them, and no matter how close I got to the tree the monster on the other side didn’t see me.”
“The tree must be leaking something we can’t see that’s messing with their vision.” I theorized. “There wouldn’t be a reason for the one-zone buffer to either side if that wasn’t the case. Let’s keep thinning the herd and see what happens.”
Jun looked over at me, then offered me her sword. Her sword that also used to be my sword. “I saw you struggle with that one lichenthrope, so we should trade back now.”
I went to accept, but hesitated as I remembered something Jun had said about our weapons. That they could take on any form we’d seen the lichenthropes in. I hadn’t forgotten about it, but I hadn’t considered the option that the stats my sword gave me might change along with its form. I opened my interface and hovered over my Copperbound Mossblade, watching as its description came into view.
(Few,Professional) Copperbound Mossblade
Core Mastery Requirement: 0.
Current Mastery Level: 0.
Grants the wielder +3 to two adaptive stats based on the weapon’s form.
Current Form: Shortsword.
Available Forms: Shortsword, Greatsword, Gauntlet, Arm.
Grants [Floodwalker] while inside the Rusted Floodforest.
When removed from the Rusted Floodforest, the weapon will finalize its shape and lose [Floodwalker].
With a swipe of my hand, I traced over the pattern on the Copperbound Mossblade and willed it to change shape. An extra 3 power wouldn’t make a massive difference, but having a longer and heavier blade would give me better leverage. It still didn’t quite make sense why the shortsword gave resilience and speed, but neither did the greatsword giving speed and power. Resilience and power made far more sense for the greatsword, with speed and power being a much better fit for the shortsword.
My sword unspooled itself, showing a core of dead moss that looked exactly like the sample I’d pulled out of the handle, then re-knit itself into a form that perfectly mirrored Jun’s greatsword. I felt a little stronger thanks to the power bonus, something I hadn’t felt from the rusted fragile weapon even though the bonuses it had offered were more than twice as great.
“I’m fine with this one, thanks.” I chuckled at Jun’s confused stare. “You were the one that said these things could change shape, remember?”
Jun slowly nodded, then ran her hand over her own sword and transformed it into a shortsword. “Uh-huh. Right. I might’ve forgotten about that.” She admitted, then shifted her sword back into its longer form. “I like this one better.”
The screeching lichenthrope deactivating brought my attention back to the absurd number of monsters, and I jabbed my sword into the circle in the dirt to mark where it had been. “We should be safe to go after the next one.”
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It took far longer than I’d expected to cull the horde of lichenthropes down to a manageable number, but it was also infinitely easier than I’d expected. I’d given a level one hazard far too much credit for how dangerous it could have been, and should have been treating it as the simple challenge it was.
Eventually, though, we got the Lichenthropes’ numbers down to two per slice. Both of our batteries were starting to run low from the constant exertion, and the ground was littered with so much dead moss that we had to be extremely careful with each and every step. The stuff was slippery even when it was completely dry, and one slip-up could lead to a cascade that turned this simple challenge into a deadly chase.
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“I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this.” Jun huffed, leaning on her sword like a walking stick. “I don’t feel tired, but my body’s telling me I am. Is that normal?”
“Yup.” I confirmed with a nod, leaning against a tree to hide my own growing exhaustion. “Until you get used to your battery keeping you alive, you’ll feel tired whenever your body tells you it should feel exhausted.”
I reached into my inventory and pulled out two fruit-flavoured energy bars in bright purple packaging. “Here. Eating will help recharge your battery, even if it’s a pretty slow recovery.”
Jun took the bar from my outstretched hand, then stared blankly at the bar while I unwrapped my own. “How am I supposed to eat this through my helmet?”
“You don’t.” I laughed, dismissing my own helmet and shoving half of the bar into my mouth. I gagged at the taste, then looked down in disbelief at the packaging. It was an energy bar. It shouldn’t be this damn sweet. “How much sugar is in one of these things?”
“Enough to overwhelm the taste of everything good for you, if these are anything like the ones back home.” Jun chuckled, studying the bar before looking up at me and freezing.
The way she was staring at me was strange, and I raised an eyebrow in question while I scarfed down the rest of my energy bar. “I’m guessing that I don’t look anything like you expected?”
“No! It’s not like that at all. You’re not a freak.” Jun said excitedly, as if not being a freak was a huge compliment. “I mean, you’re way hairier than anyone back home. And you have those weird things on your skin that are all red and angry. But you look like a person. And not like a bug-person with mandibles or huge eyes that take up half of your face like in sci-fi shows, but more like a less hairy mammal that happened to evolve into people. Into persons? I don’t know what’s the right term there.”
A less hairy mammal that had happened to evolve. She was closer to the mark than she thought, but her wording brought me pause. “Your ancestors weren’t mammals?”
“Nope.” Jun said with a shake of her head. “Well, not completely. We’re sort of a mixed bag since we have a huge planet with a few nearly-uncrossable divides and extremely powerful gods shaping us. Half natural evolution and half divine meddling, you know?”
I didn't know, but I nodded all the same. “Are you going to eat yours, or are you ready to get going?”
Jun looked down at her energy bar, thought for a moment, then tucked it away in her inventory. “I’ll eat it later. Let’s finish this up.”
The screeching lichenthrope closest to us quieted down, sealing its fate along with all the other monsters in the two zones closest to it. Six down, ten to go. Jun shot a glance over at the next slice on her side, two creatures still completely inactive while the lone active one screeched away on the other side of the dead tree, then looked back at me for permission.
Ten lichenthropes would have been too much to fight fairly. Far too much. Even six would be too much, and that was if we each managed to cut down two in the fifteen seconds we had. But there was always a risk of triggering something far worse than three lichenthropes each if the screeching tried to pass on to a slice where there were no more monsters.
It was snap judgment time. “Kill them.” I ordered, rushing towards the nearest pair and swiftly dispatching them. The greatsword was significantly better at destroying them than the shortsword was, and I counted down the last remaining seconds in my mind as I ran towards the final six.
My foot touched down in what we’d labeled slice seven and all hell broke loose. Well, as much hell as four lichenthropes could muster. It was like someone had flipped the murder switch on them, tendrils reaching towards me with murderous vigor as the moss inside glowed forest green. It was brighter than any of the other lichenthropes I’d seen so far, including all the ones that had automatically activated among the previous one-hundred who had stood here.
“Shit!” I cried, stepping back to avoid a wild swing with an arm that transformed into a spear-like point mid-swing. The attacker stumbled forward as it missed, and the closest lichenthrope clambered over its falling form to get better footing to launch itself at me.
I held my sword up to try and block, smacking one bladed arm to the side and elbowing the other out of the way so that it cut a long gouge into my right arm rather than directly into my heart. My armor’s integrity barely budged from the one glancing blow, but a warning blazing in the center of my vision telling me that there was a foreign pollutant in my system. That was either tetanus or the moss itself, and neither of them held anything but a very painful few hours as my armor cleansed my blood.
The twin-bladed lichenthrope crumpled as I dug my sword into its slightly lowered neck, cutting at an angle to try and ensure that it would die with one hit. I severed it from the base of its neck down to its right hip, but the light inside the moss that spilled forth didn’t blink out. It glowed brighter in death, emitting a cloud of luminescent spores from the bottom half while the top half clawed its way towards me with one functioning arm.
It felt as if an adrenaline shot had been injected straight into my spine, a wide smile spreading over my lips as I tapped the bottom of my sword to eject the dead moss sample. I slashed the crawling lichenthrope’s face in two on an upswing, clashed with a thrust from the spear-armed creatures in the continuation, and shoulder-checked it in one swift motion. I let my instincts from decades of fighting take over, shredding any of the fear twenty-year old me might have had at the situation, and let my blade fall from my hands.
One call to a small portion of my interface created a keypad at my fingertips, and I traced through a circular pattern I’d created before everything had rewound. I didn’t think to check if it still worked, which I admit was a massive oversight, but the error messages seemed to know exactly what I was going for.
//EXECUTING COMMAND: RECONFIGURE.
//WEAPON: COPPERBOUND MOSSBLADE TRANSFORMATIONS ADDED TO COMMAND.
My blade transformed into a spear in midair, now granting me +3 power and battery for some reason, and I rammed it straight through the lichenthrope’s head with as much weight behind the strike as I could muster. It crumpled as my spear carried it back, slamming it into one of the two approaching monsters as I pivoted on my heel to expose the moss sample to the luminescent death of the lichenthrope.
Forest green shot through the tube, countless tiny eyes blinking open to look at me with the confusion of something that had slept for far, far too long. I reached down and ripped the grounded lichenthrope’s sword arm from its socket, recalled my spear to my inventory, and re-summoned it as a twin sword to the arm I now held in my left hand. I licked my lips and zeroed in on the one approaching lichenthrope, the other now distracted by Jun barrelling in from her own wedge.