The next day, we went out to clear more monsters.

The instant we arrived at the spawn point, a dozen Rock Lurkers threw themselves at us. The sudden ferocity of the ambush surprised me, but the monsters couldn’t keep up with three determined rankers.

We labored for levels until our stamina depleted, and then we retreated a few paces to catch our breaths.

Paz stared down at his muscular torso, which glistened with mud and sweat. “Any moment now. I can feel it. I think I’m close to level 14.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Nicola said. “But, this isn’t doing anything for me. If we don’t find some other spawning ground, forget about beating Byron. We’d die to the Labyrinth mobs.” She sat in the mud, unconcerned about her hair and clothes.

“Just two more days left,” Paz said. “You’ll see.”

I touched my cheek, which stung from a lucky hit by a Rock Lurker. Despite their low levels, they had managed to put up a fight. Something to do with their base stats?

“What kind of mobs populate the Labyrinth?” I asked.

“The worst kind,” Nicola said. “Chimeras.”

“The fire-breathing lion goats?”

She wrinkled her nose. “That’s an oddly specific combination, Damien. But, yes. Fire-breathing lion goats are also chimeras. They lend an air of unpredictability to dungeon runs. It’s not advisable to challenge the Labyrinth without a well-rounded party.”

"Hey," Paz said. "We're pretty well-rounded for a party of three."

Nicola frowned. “Others would say that we are a tad under-leveled and unbalanced.”

“That ‘tad’,” I murmured, “is doing a lot of heavy lifting.”

“Look at it this way,” Nicola said. “Most parties are usually made up of a tank, a caster, a close-range damage dealer, and whatever they need as an extra. You and I serve the role of squishies in our party, but instead of a Guardian or, at least, a Warrior, we got a Skirmisher with zero defensive skills—”

“Why bother with defense"—Paz wiggled his eyebrows—"when you can slug an enemy in the face?”

Nicola touched her forehead in a futile attempt to quell a groan. “Three glass cannons with no one to initiate. We’ll get steamrolled the instant we make a misstep.”

“So, we’ll try to avoid that,” I said. “Making mistakes, that is.” I took a seat on a rock and scribbled on the ground with a stick. “What’s our biggest advantage?”

“Utility,” Paz said without missing a beat. “We might not have the best team comp, but we make up for it with classes that synchronize well with our affinities.”

“And our biggest disadvantage?”

This time, Nicola answered. “Fragility. Any random team would beat us in a protracted battle.”

“Poor judgment and protracted battles.” I scribbled illegibly on the ground. “Two missteps we must avoid. It means we would be best served sneaking up on enemies and going all out from the start.”

“Full power from the get-go,” Paz said. “My kind of fighting.”

“It also means you need to be strong enough to handle sustained aggression to create chances for Nicola and me to get into position. What’s the one thing that gives Skirmishers the edge?”

Paz scratched his chin. Despite his mannerisms, he took [System] matters seriously. “Melee damage. Polearms require equal tiers in Strength and Dexterity. A Skirmisher focuses on these two stats above all else.”

He didn’t need to finish; I already gleaned his meaning. Strength moderated physical attack and resistance, while Dexterity bestowed agility and added extra damage to any weapon with the [DEX]-based property. Seeing as the two stats also boosted movement speed, Paz wasn’t wrong to brag about his physical offense.

“So, why fight barehanded?” I wondered aloud. “Without a polearm, you don’t gain the extra benefits from Dexterity.”

“I simply don't have the coin,” Paz said, managing to look unfazed despite a reddening of his cheeks. “Ranker-grade gear is pretty expensive. And, a regular polearm would break on first contact with a high-grade axe or shield.”

“Well, that simplifies things. Our first goal, then, upon entering the Labyrinth is to procure ranker-grade items for all three of us.” I dropped the stick. “We’re really in over our heads, huh? No money. No gear. And, we are almost a hundred percent weaker than the man we intend to kill.”

“Welcome to the life of an adventurer,” Paz said, slapping my back. “Hopefully, you live long enough to marry, have kids, and retire. Now, go eat and meet me back here for practice.”

Our sparring session ended the same way as the last time.

Paz, once again, proved that we were not equal as far as hand-to-hand was concerned. But, I ended up confirming a few tips I had earlier suspected.

Health armor protected the body from true damage as long as one had HP available. But, some attacks could bypass health armor to a degree, of which concussions were the foremost.

Critical hits—or more accurately, hits to vital areas—also caused more damage than usual. This explained why I could kill goblins with quick strokes to the neck but struggle to do enough damage while attacking anywhere else.

The aforementioned points reinforced Paz's philosophy about non-XP improvement. Relying on fighting techniques to do the bulk of the work removed the element of personal intelligence that all rankers needed.

Whether that intelligence was enough to close the gap between Byron and I was another matter. But, best to broaden my horizons.

I limped back to the cave, regretting with each twinge of my hip that I’d refused to [Meditate] back at our sparring ground.

Squelching noises—audible to my sensitive ears interrupted my thoughts.

“Um, Nicola?” I said, stopping just short of the cave entrance.

Loud shuffling followed. Nicola appeared in a short, linen dress, panting for breath. Damp, black hair clung to her forehead, loosened from her intricate array of braids. “Uh, Damien?! You’re back? You boys finished sooner than I expected.”

Sweat glistened on her arms and the upper part of her chest, lending her already exotic skin an irresistible sheen. A heady scent filled the air, palpable in its warmth. Something stirred in my loins—dark and fearful—like the sinuous uncoiling of a snake.

You have resisted [Lust].

“Nicola,” I cried, slamming back to reality. “Turn it off!”

Nicola balked. “Oh, goodness. Damien, I’m so sorry. I had no idea!”

The heat dissipated. The tightness in my pants vanished alongside it, calming my breathing.

“Was that your ability?” I asked. “[Ecstasy] or something?”

“It was . . .”

“Why were you using it in the middle of camp?”

Nicola’s eyes widened. “I-I didn’t d-do it on purpose! It triggers by itself whenever I . . .”

I forced my eyes away from her heaving chest. Whenever she . . .?

And, then it hit me. Oh . . .

Oh.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Are you that frustrated?”

The summoned tentacle nearly flattened my head.

“It’s not like I have a choice,” Nicola said, after accepting my plea for leniency. “You have no idea what it means to be [Born of Pleasure]. The longer I go without gathering Eros, the weaker my spells, and the harder it gets for me to focus.” She buried her face in her palms. “The last couple of weeks have been brutal because I couldn’t make time for myself. I'm so fucking tired, Damien.”

Her voice broke near the end, springing me to action.

“Hey, now,” I said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t need to explain. Not to me. I’m also born of an affinity.”

Nicola shook her head. “No. We’re teammates now. It’s best to avoid awkward situations in the future.”

I waited for her to speak.

“I received two abilities from my trait after my eighteenth birthday,” she said. “One of those abilities—[Eros Collector]—created a third energy meter for me alongside HP and stamina.”

I ignored the obvious question about how the [System] knew that such techniques were best reserved for adulthood. “I’m guessing this third meter measures your level of Eros?”

“Yes . . . pleasurable activities grant me a measure of energy. It builds up, increasing my arousal, and well . . . I experience release when the meter is at its fullest.”

“What happens then?”

Nicola glanced at me with half-lidded eyes. She stood closer to me now—when did that happen?—enough that her hot breath cascaded over my chest.

“I get so fucking powerful,” she rasped. “My spells strike with twice the power, and every step I take sends pleasurable sensations shooting up my skull.” Her finger poked my chest. “The euphoria lasts an entire day, but once it’s done, the meter empties, and I get all jittery until I fill it again.”

That explained why she was so prone to hysterics. I couldn’t imagine that kind of life—living each day in pursuit of the next release. It put another meaning to thinking with one’s nether. [Born of Fear], in comparison, did nothing to affect my mood. But, Nicola . . .

Her hand slipped lower, toward my belt.

“Okay!” I said, extricating myself. “I should probably give you some space to, err, conclude your battle. I’ll speak to Paz about giving you some alone time. Maybe two hours each day, assuming that will be enough?”

Nicola stared at me with those sinful orbs of hers, and then she blinked at my hands which kept her at an arm’s length from their position around her shoulders.

The fog in her eyes cleared. “Oh, Heralds, Damien. I’m so sorry.”

“Think nothing of it,” I said before she could break down into tears. “I’d help out if I could . . .”

I paused. No. No. Abort mission! There was only one possible way to help, and I wasn’t taking it.

Thankfully, Nicola didn’t pounce on the opportunity, allowing me to hobble out of the cave with mumbled apologies and one hand in front of my pants.

Paz took one look at my face as I returned. A wide grin split his lips. “Ran into Nicola, huh?”

I sat ungracefully beside him. “I’m assuming you knew.”

“I did. I heard the rumors about her in the tavern. Plus, you don’t need to be a medium to understand the reason she rustles a lot at night. That’s a terrible power she’s got. Terrible and useful.”

“Useful?”

“Between the two of you, our enemies will have a hard time battling us while scared and enamored. Imagine decapitating someone who had to defend himself with a boner in his pants! That’s comedy gold.”

Please, no. The last thing I needed was a reminder of that goblin incident.

“Assuming they don’t resist it,” I said.

“True that.”

We settled into an easy silence.

Paz spoke first. “I saw you scribbling on parchment the other day. What was that about?”

“Oh, just some notes I’ve been keeping. I don’t want to forget any of the [System] stuff I learn.”

“You intend to optimize your build? Like some kind of min-maxer?”

There it was again. Proof that Vizhimans knew terms that inhabitants of a fantasy world had no business knowing. Nicola had done the same when she had mentioned the word, squishies. I'd always suspected that a deep connection existed between Vizhima and Earth. But, of what kind?

“That is my intention, yes,” I said at length. “To avoid pitfalls and irreversible mistakes. However, to do that, I need more information on [System] mechanics. I’ve gathered little of value so far.”

“What bothers you?”

“A few things. For starters, what’s the exact number of stat points a ranker may earn in their lifetime?”

“Two hundred and seventy-five,” Paz said, without missing a beat.

I blinked at him. Even Mavari did not know that. “You’re not kidding.”

“Why would I? A lot of Adamantiums have said the same.”

275 . . . Then, that meant . . .

“Stat points cap at fifty,” I mused aloud. “To max all eight attributes, one would need four hundred points.”

“Then, don’t max all eight.”

“Yeah. With two hundred and forty points, one could theoretically raise each attribute to thirty . . .”

“The Grand tier.”

“. . . but, that would mean having attributes that are two tiers weaker than the peak across the board.” I drummed my fingers. “The smarter choice would be to raise five attributes to fifty and ignore the others, assuming there are no diminishing returns the higher up you go.”

“There aren’t,” Paz said with a grin. “I’ve seen idiots argue in favor of that: stopping around thirty for a more rounded build. But, that’s plain disingenuous. Unless you have no idea what you are doing, you don’t need to dip a hand in every attribute.”

“Lean on your strengths and abandon your weaknesses.” I could vibe with that. “Though, I suppose a mix of both schools of thought can also be effective. Something like three attributes at fifty, and another three at forty.”

“Bah. Your first inference was the best.”

“Tell me about skills and abilities, then,” I said, resisting the urge to scribble right there on my parchment. “Is there a process that governs their unlocking? Or, do I keep fighting monsters and hope for the best?”

Paz crossed his arms behind his head. His abs and biceps rippled as he lay back on a rock. “A little bit of both? Starting from level 20, you gain one technique choice every ten levels. Can be a skill or an ability, depending on your class. But, you’ll need to choose one from a list of options.”

“And what determines the options you get?”

“The part about fighting and hoping for the best. The [System] favors rankers who gain XP from enemies many levels above them. This favor comes in the form of improved choices to select from and better rank-up rewards.”

“What's the latter?”

“Another way to learn new techniques. Apart from the choices you gain every ten levels, you also learn a random technique each time you achieve a new rank.” He scratched the bridge of his nose. “In your case, your next rank-up reward comes at level 25.”

This time, I couldn’t refrain from writing. I extricated the parchment and the quill. “What you’re saying is that I get to choose from a list of techniques every multiple of ten. And, the [System] also grants a freebie each time I rank up.” I did the math. “That’s a total of fourteen techniques.”

Paz glanced at my notes. “Remember to include the four you learn immediately after Specialization. Everyone unlocks [Meditation], a fighting style, and two starting techniques. I also forgot about the [System] bonuses at levels 15 and 85. Include that.”

Oh, yeah. I’d gotten [Decoy] for leveling up after the fight with the Primal Dread Monkey.

“Twenty in total,” I said with a sigh. “And, more, I assume for anyone with a trait.”

I studied my notes. The idea of dealing with random elements in the course of completing my build irked me a little, but I could see why the [System] had designed things this way.

It was not beyond some asshole to try to level up on the weak by committing mass murder. Placing a penalty on shortcuts made for an interesting approach.

Paz laughed when I shared my concerns. “That’s the whole point of the [System], Damien. You can plan your build all you like, but if you aren’t pulling off impressive feats, you’d only end up with mediocre techniques. Punching beneath your level does nothing to help you. And, neither regulars nor specialists provide an iota of XP.

“There’s only one route to power available to a ranker: Kill greater enemies.”

I saved that advice in my notebook: Kill greater enemies. Ben’s commentary from a few days ago about the plight of adventurers struck me as poignant. At some point, this job stopped being fun and became a constant slog of throwing oneself at increasingly dangerous challenges to reap greater rewards. Little wonder Ben’s mental health had suffered for it.

“Hold on,” I said. “You knew all of this yet brought us here to fight Rock Lurkers below level 10? Won't that sabotage our growth?”

Paz rose quietly to his feet.

A few seconds later, he sprinted down the swamp.

Asshole.

We returned to grinding the next morning.

The Rock Lurkers attacked first again, forcing us to slip into a tight unit. Our cohesion as a team wasn’t quite where it should be, but we had made good progress syncing our techniques.

Nicola killed one Rock Lurker by summoning a tentacle into its open maw.

“I’m done for,” she said, falling to her knees. “Let’s call it a day.”

The dormant Rock Lurkers squirmed. They rumbled in agitation and rolled at a glacial pace, smacking into one another. Each of them that collided remained conjoined until multiple short chains of boulders spun in place. The rumbling evolved into a ground-shaking crescendo—

“It’s happening!” Paz said, as the forest floor trembled beneath us. "The time has finally arrived!"

The Rock Lurkers merged, one atop the other until a stony behemoth towered above the swamp. Smaller chains of rocks formed its limbs, and a boulder-head sat atop an impressive stone torso.

Green eyes glowed down at us from deep in its face, bearing such malice that Nicola and I took a few steps backward.

Paz clapped his hands in place, oblivious to our terror. “See? I told you. Clearing all those Rock Lurkers wasn’t for naught!”

I took a look at the green-tongued giant stone golem and the tooltip hovering over its head.

Primal Rock Lurker LVL 26.

[Scaredy-cat] fired in tandem with the monster’s roar.

“Oh, hell no,” I muttered.