Looking around for something—anything to help him—his eyes landed on the corpse of the weird deer. Its antlers had caught on the edge of the platform. Limping over, he lifted it up. The weight took him aback. He assumed it would be easy to lift, but it seemed its weight had scaled with level.
He hoped that his shattered arms would be enough. Planting his feet, he threw the carcass. It soared through the air; blood spun like droplets of rain in spring. As If In slow motion, the charging deer paused as expressions of horror dawned on their long faces, and they began to backpedal. The confusion was justified. How were they supposed to know their former leader would be thrown at them? Like a monkey throwing a shitty banana. The deer-turned helicopter rammed into the first three, sending them to the ground.
Leaping down, he brought his sword to bear and sliced the first deer’s neck open. As his feet hit the ground, he braced and thrust to his left, hoping to take out the second deer's eyes.
The second deer stood up and blocked his approaching sword, using its antlers as a shield. Letting go of the handle, he snaked out his hands and grabbed its antlers. Twisting, he heard a satisfying pop as it fell to the floor. Levering his sword out of its antlers, he ducked out of the way of the oncoming deer. As it rushed by, he sliced, cutting its haunch. It wouldn't kill the bastard, but it certainly slowed it down.
Turning to face the other three, he grabbed one of the carcasses from the ground. And used it as a shield for the incoming charge. With all three of their antlers blocked, he turned and dispatched the injured buck.
With only three remaining, he felt more confident in his ability to make it out alive. Of course, whenever he started thinking about surviving the world, it liked to yank him down a peg. One of the bucks rammed into him, knocking him to the ground and pushing the wind out of his lungs. Quickly responding, he pushed Mana into his screaming body. Using the newfound energy, he launched forward, piercing his blade into the underside of the buck's chest. The deer paused and began to squirm. Letting out a ferocious roar, he sliced upward. The deer gave one big heave as its heart was bisected; blood flooded out of the corpse, like a rushing river.
Before the body could trap him, he pulled out his blade and moved to the side. Bringing his blade up in a guard position, he deflected one of the oncoming deer. He pushed the deer at its brother, and their spindly legs tangled together like a mess of roots.
Piercing down, he used the stone as a sheath, the fleshy matter in between him and his goal. The head of the first buck split like a tree, and the torso of the second erupted with flames. Pulling his blade out, he used it as a brace and caught his breath.
**Ding**
You have killed 12 Lockwood deer level 15, and you have gained XP.
**Ding**
You have killed Lockwood Primadeera level 18 you have gained XP.
*Ding*
You have reached level 15. Your stats have been increased, and you have 4 status points to allocate.
Go forth and grow fast, and let your strength be a testament to your resolve.
As the notifications passed, energy coursed through his arm as his skin regrew, and his burnt and rough Mana channels felt whole again. Cautiously, he pushed Mana through his arm. It felt sore like exercising a muscle after a long workout, but it was far from the searing agony of before.
As the chiming bells of the notifications faded, an almost equally annoying sound began. It sounded like when that particularly spiteful teacher with long nails would drag them across the chalkboard. At the bottom of the stairs, there were two new things. The first was a stairwell leading downward, the other was a large stone chest.
Walking down, he stared at the chest intently. It was a little over a meter long and half a meter high. Its lid looked to be carved out of solid granite and was mard with small indents. A bronze latch held it in place. The chest didn't look to be locked. He poked at it with his sword. Nothing happened. Waiting for a second, he then used his sword as a lever to pry the chest open. The lid flew up as if it weighed nothing. Holding his breath, he slowly stepped forward and peered inside
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The first thing he noticed was a bunch of cloth-wrappings. Reching, he grabbed one of the piles of cloth. As he pulled it out, it felt hard and solid in his hands. Underneath the wrappings was a breastplate. It looked to be made of some sort of white leather. It felt soft yet supple, when he poked the armor, it was like rigid steel.
White Senanail Breastplate
Rarity Uncommon
Rank F
This breastplate is constructed of White Senanail borehide. The beasts known for their incredible toughness and resilience are prized for their leather. This skin was treated with high-quality materials and aged expertly. Mixed with quality Drentonian craftsmanship, this is truly an excellent piece of armor for any adventurer.
Putting the breastplate aside, he grabbed the next item. As he pulled it out, the item split in his hands. Fearing that he had broken it, he pulled back the cloth, revealing a similar leather set of bracers, the only difference being the white tufts of fur, emerging from the sides.
White Senanail Bracers
Rarity Uncommon
Rank F
These bracers were crafted from White Senanail wolfhide. Known for their exceptional toughness and flexibility, this hide inherited its original owner's capabilities. This skin was treated with high-quality materials and aged expertly. Mixed with quality Drentonian craftsmanship, this is truly an excellent piece of armor for any adventurer.
He then looked down once again. There was one item left. It was in a box, which meant that it might have a higher rarity. With quiet anticipation, he pulled out the box. A familiar smell hit him—that of old oak and oil leather. Opening up the lid of the box, he was confronted with a sword. As he gazed upon the blade, the flash of a shadowy figure seemed to lurk behind him.
Veia Dranda
Rarity Rare
Rank E
The handle of this exquisite sword was carved by the Luundan people from Partawood. It’s metal was mined on the plane of the suwde. And forged at the bellows of the round table. It is said that this blade Is a mimic of The Spell Masters own Alfine Dranda As such, this blade's incredible magical resilience and channeling abilities come as no surprise.
It was a phenomenal item, by far the best of the lot. The problem is that it was very comparable in quality to his current blade. Sure, it had a slightly different specialization, being more focused on magic, but he couldn't necessarily justify using it. Because it was in fact just so evenly matched, swapping over to it would hinder him. He'd have to get used to its weight and balance, which would take at least a few fights, and considering how they had been going... Not knowing his weapon would be problematic.
Alternatively, he could... His grandfather's voice rang in his head. “Only idiots use two blades, a shield serves better.” But then again, his grandfather wasn't superhumanly fast. And his grandfather was also more than half decent with a shield. Plus, it's not like he couldn't duel wield; he had been trained in the basics. However, it was tricky, and he had very little experience in it. But it could be devastatingly effective. Some of the greatest swordsmen in the history of Earth had been dual wielders after all. But if not done well. It would certainly kill him.
He also worried that picking up the second sword would lead him down a more destructive path. He wasn't ready or willing to give up control. He shoved the scabbard onto his belt and drew it. Both blades sat in his hands; the weight felt right as if he was meant to have both.
**Ding**
You have gained a new skill, duel-wielding.
**Ding**
Your duel-wielding skill has reached level 4.
He let out a long sigh. The system clearly wanted him to use both. He sheathed both blades and buckled on his new armor. When he was finished double checking. He descended down the stairs. Blackness ingolfed him. As he took another step, the darkness dissipated, and the smell of the forest hit him.
The previous level of the dungeon was rather like a hobbit hole, with moss hanging from every possible crevice and the smell of water abundant. This smelled like a boreal forest. Rich with pine but also with the comfort of the ancients.
The ceiling was far above, and it looked like the middle of the afternoon. The trees were tall, nowhere near the forest where he started, but still impressive. Taking a breath, he once again advanced into the forest.