Hey, it seems you are afraid.

+1 has been added to all stats.

I glared at the popup and continued my descent. Good, ol’ [Scaredy-cat] had become the gift that never stopped giving.

The temporary boost to my attributes—a welcome development on any other occasion—did nothing to allay my fears. One Dread Tiger had succeeded in sending me to the shores of the River Styx. An entire ambush, thus, would grant front seats with Charon.

Death by tiger mauling seemed like my lot. But, it trumped the alternative of hunkering in a hut to wait out the end.

Take note of my resolve, bastards. Damien Njoku wouldn’t die. Not now or ever on your terms.

Striped fur moved within the cover of tall grasses. The monster bait swung in my palm. I tied it off to a belt hoop and settled into a stance. Nana's dagger trembled in my hand.

“Very well, you big, murderous cat,” I gnashed out. “Come.”

The Dread Tiger didn't come. What the heck was it playing at? I could see it right there, thanks to my evolved senses, but it didn’t attempt to pounce. Could it sense I was a threat?

A breeze howled, stopped, and picked up again.

Another stack of [Fear] popped up in my vision, raising my attributes by a total of two.

I took a single step forward. Two Dread Tigers bounded out of the bushes, rushing at me from opposite directions. Both had advanced up to level six, but that wasn’t important. I was more afraid of their [Bleed] skill. If they got close to me, things would get ugly. Fast.

I toggled my one useful ability.

[Fear Aura].

A dark mist rose around me, barely perceptible to my sight. Both Dread tigers whimpered and skidded to a stop. Their pupils dilated, ears flattened in terror—they didn't get a chance.

I closed the distance to the first Dread Tiger and rammed my dagger into its throat.

The blade bounced off. Fucking HP.

I spun my wrist and tried again. Each strike carved chunks out of the Dread Tiger’s health. Unlike my experience with the homemade stakes, health loss proceeded faster. Common Dexterity put in work, accompanied by whatever benefits the dagger provided.

The Dread Tiger snapped out of its daze, much too late to matter. Soul steel bit into its throat and emptied the last of its health. The monster emitted a final strained gurgle as it fell to its side. Blood and bloody matter coated the ground.

I rose from the scuffle and turned to face the second Dread Tiger which stood rooted in fear. It bolted from my presence. Smart lad, that one.

I jumped after it and landed on its back. The next few seconds left me breathless as the monster attempted to buck me. I clung to its back and plunged the dagger into its side. Over and over, I did this . . . until, with a great heave, the tiger collapsed and threw me onto the ground.

A bunch of notifications popped up, regarding the fight. They had thankfully stayed at the periphery—visible enough that I could maximize them with a thought, but largely unobtrusive to ensure I focused on my survival.

As usual, a glance at the messages was all it took for the [System] to transmit the info they contained to me. A couple of messages displayed information concerning [Fear Aura]. Blood pounded in my ears, courtesy of an adrenaline rush that didn’t want to end. I’d killed two Dread Tigers and taken minimal losses from it.

Me.

I flicked the blood off the dagger with a sharp twist of my wrist. The blade had gone strange again, sporting an inky blackness. The darkness moved with an oily consistency, like motile shadows writ in agony, but the bits that dribbled off the blade curled into smoke.

Similar wisps of darkness coiled around my arms. My MP had also fallen by four. I turned off [Fear Aura] to conserve it. That proved to be a mistake.

With the aura gone, another Dread Tiger surged out of the bushes. This one looked smaller, leaner, deadlier, with fewer spikes protruding from its head. A female.

I reached for [Fear Aura] again, only to get a brief notification.

Error: This technique is on cooldown.

Cooldown? This world had cooldowns?!

The Dread Tiger didn’t slow down in solidarity with my confusion, so I closed my eyes—no, bad form; open them, Damien!—and stuck the blade into its approaching maw.

The darkness reacted.

They elongated from the tip of the Blackreach, turning the dagger into a short sword. The Dread Tiger crashed into me, wounded but alive. Sharp claws lashed across my face.

My health meter staved off the blow, taking the damage instead. But, it did nothing for the intense fear that accompanied being smacked around by two hundred kilograms of Dread Tiger.

I gripped the big cat for all I was worth and fell onto my back. Man and tiger struggled fiercely. The former won out.

I kept the Blackreach dagger in place until the tiger breathed its last. Warm blood poured down the chest wound and onto my face.

Oh my! Aren't you good at this! You've leveled up!

Level has increased from 3 to 4.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

I forced the Dread Tiger off me with some effort and wiped my face on my sleeve. [Fear Aura] came off cooldown as I panted on the grass. The [System] didn’t mention this, but somehow I knew. An innate awareness of my techniques surged into my brain.

“Damien?” Mavari asked. “Are you doing okay?”

“Y-yeah,” I gasped. “Pretty stellar, all things considered.”

Mavari padded around me. “Good. Because you don’t get any potions. Not this early at least. You can only use one of each type every six hours. Watch your renewables.”

“What are those?”

“Health, stamina, VP, and MP. Each ingested potion triggers a cooldown timer in the upper right corner of your vision. A fifth category of potions exists for buffs and miscellaneous use, but they don’t get separate timers. Drinking any of those reduces your available cooldowns by a corresponding number.”

I digested her words. The information could be summarized as four potions every six hours, with no more than one of the same type allowed within that time frame.

“What happens,” I asked, “if I ingest five in total, or two of the same type within a single duration?”

“You’d die,” Mavari said simply. “But that’s the worst-case scenario. You’re more likely to suffer toxic poisoning, which still leads to death, save for the added benefit of a period of suffering.”

How was that any better?

I wiped my face again. “So, if I’m getting your meaning: The smart thing to do in prolonged fights is to conserve my renewables. I can’t refill them at will.”

“Correct.”

“What about techniques then? I noticed those have cooldowns too.”

“They do. The stronger the technique, the longer it takes to recharge. Casters typically recover faster than others, to compensate for their weakness in basic attacks.”

Heh. Basic attacks. Again with the gaming terms. What kind of fantasy world relied on mechanics like these?

I could respect the [System]’s stance on anti-spam, however. Fights would suck if everyone could just duck around corners to drink potions ad infinitum.

Mavari tossed me a pouch. “Attach that to your belt. Set of four. Use only in cases of emergency.”

I studied the contents of the pouch. Bright fluids sparkled in vials, colored red, green, blue, and yellow. “My whole life is an emergency, Mavari.”

Mavari frowned. “Don’t say that. You fought pretty well a moment ago.”

I did. But for all of that, I was only level 4.

Five hours left. Six levels to go. Better make the most of it.

I killed five more Dread Tigers and another nine before progressing to levels 5 and 6 respectively.

Granted, none of the Dread Tigers had risen beyond the seventh level, and Mavari helped by herding them one at a time in my direction. Despite her best efforts, we blew two hours on this grueling tactic, forcing an early consumption of mana and stamina potions. The latter served as an effective pick-me-up, restoring me to my feet.

Going by my math—which was admittedly wonky—experience requirements doubled per level. If nine Dread Tigers had sufficed for level 6, I probably needed another eighteen or so to level up again.

Dear god. No wonder Nana had pitied me. This was a fool’s errand, and that was even assuming I could find such large numbers of enemies.

I looted the monsters after each kill and handed the items over to Mavari for storage in her inventory. The understory in Corpse Valley eventually thinned out, giving way to rocky ground punctuated by trees.

Mavari scouted some distance ahead, undetectable even to my elven senses. She could be quiet when she wanted to be, huh? A possible benefit of her class. In contrast, I bumbled around like an idiot.

Trusting her ability to warn me, I diverted some of my attention to the status screen.

Damien Njoku

Race: Dark Elf

Level: 6

Affinity: Fear

Class: [?]

VP: 24/24

MP: 22/26

Attributes:

STR 4, PER 5, END 10, DEX 10

INT 5, WIL 3, V.F 2, MGK 3

Free stat points: 3

A surge of excitement filled me as I studied the increased numbers. I’d erstwhile put three points in Endurance and another three in Perception.

The evolution of Endurance had come with a note:

Yay! You have upgraded an attribute.

[END] has changed from [Lesser] to [Common].

The new tier has granted a 1.5x boost to base hidden stat: Defense

Upgrade for further boosts to health and stamina.

Endurance was incredible. But then again, if every Regular grew this strong without trying, didn’t that make altercations in this world extremely deadly?

I was almost tempted to chuck three more points at Endurance just for the heck of it, but Mavari’s warnings about stat increments came to mind.

Stats evolved at every tier which in turn occurred at every tenth. I could raise Endurance to twenty for more defenses, but what did that mean in terms of opportunity cost for other snubbed attributes?

The Dread Tigers hadn’t lost out to me in slugging matches. They had lost because of [Fear Aura] and the bonus damage from Dexterity. Strength, thus, would make me even stronger, and that was without factoring in the improved reflexes from Perception.

Better be careful. Focusing on one attribute this early could hamper my effectiveness. Not to mention, I had four more levels to go. In case I ran out of MP, throwing a few stat points into Magicka could help out in a pinch.

“Damien!” Mavari called, ending my musing. “Over here. Quickly!”

I chased after her.

Mavari crouched low to the ground, cloak spooling around her feet. A large boar—the remnants one at least—hung in her path. The boar dangled between the lowest branches of a deridum tree. Half of its form had been gnawed off, leaving a rotten head attached to a maggot-filled torso.

I activated [Identify]. The words ‘Animal carcass’ rewarded my effort.

“That's a territorial display,” Mavari said, rising to her feet. “Alpha Dread Tigers sometimes do this to warn other predators off their territory.”

I stared at the boar and scratched my chin. “Won’t this achieve the opposite effect?”

“Wrong. You can’t sense it at your current level, but that carcass emits a terrible aura from the alpha urinating on it. Other alphas would sense this aura and keep their distance, leaving only weaker animals to troop in.”

“Great. So, what are we waiting for then? This confirms your suspicions. We have an alpha to kill.”

Mavari raised a bemused eyebrow. “Hold your horses, Damien. How strong do you think an Alpha Dread Tiger is?”

I frowned at the question. “Judging by the strength of the rest of the group, I’d say maybe . . . level ten or fifteen?”

“Think bigger. You’d find them between the ranges of twenty and twenty-four.” She chuckled at my expression. “Not to worry! That’s what I’m here for. I can handle one alpha monster. All we need to do is ensure you score the last hit.”

Her cavalier attitude highlighted her attractiveness but did nothing for my nerves.

Mavari unslung her bow. “That said, Damien. Alpha monsters are some of the strongest in these parts. Stick close to me and tread with caution. The presence of a marker indicates a nearby lair.”

“And how are we supposed to find it?”

Mavari smiled. “Remember when I taught you about classes? Well, you are about to discover why Dreadwood elves favor the Ranger class above all else.” The color of her pupils deepened. “This is my skill [Hunting]. Follow at my pace.”

She jogged off but maintained an inconspicuous profile via the green of her cloak.

I watched her recede for a few precious seconds before rousing from my daze.

My heart quivered at the thought of the looming fight with the monster, but The Blackreach Dagger sang in my grasp.