The awful squeals of a being in pain continued unabated as Mike hustled from his training chamber, motivating him to climb the ladder in record time, despite the narrowness of the shaft. He barely noticed the wave of heat that sat on his upper floor, a product of the oven room having imperfect insulation and the heat of noon-day sunshine. Before he reached his entryway, another crash sounded, and the keening peals of pain took an angry note, urging him to move faster still. Only his training enabled him to overcome the compulsion, and he forced his mind to be calm as he quickly made his way to the entrance of his shelter and peaked outside.
He located the source of the noise instantly, near the water’s edge, a desert fox as large as a horse lay bloody and broken in what had once been its burrow. He initially thought that the den had collapsed but as he looked closer, it was evident that the den had been destroyed from the outside.
A blinding flash of feathers streaked from above and collided into the wounded animal, gouging at it with talons the size of Ka-Bars. The exchange was too fast for Mike to see or understand all of it, but he did see that the fox was fighting back, despite the multitude of its wounds, it continued fighting with a fury that surprised him. He knew it would be suicide to assist, but he found himself routing for the fox. For a brief moment, he actually believed it would come out on top, but then another streak of feathers pounced on the fox from behind as a second vulture joined in the combat.
Rather than back down, Mike sensed a growing accumulation of energy within the fox as it seemed to drain its surroundings of all lifeforce and it fought harder than ever before. It was a dazzling display of ferocity and raw power, but Mike recognized it for what it was, the last ditch effort of a protector who was willing to give its life to guard its wards for a few final moments. His fears and suspicions were validated as a particularly nasty attack from the bird on its right side forced it to take a step back, and 5 fox cubs were revealed.
Any control Mike had managed to maintain in that moment was shattered at the sight of the small, soft, fury creatures, and he was out the door of his shelter and launching himself into a wreckless dive into Stomach Surfing before he had taken conscious thought of his action. He took no notice of his surroundings nor the way that the sand was heating his sled beneath him until it glowed red hot, so focused was he on the battle raging before him. He had heard stories and even seen instances where superhuman feats were performed in an effort to save the life of another, but with the System enhancements, this was on a different level. He was unable to comprehend the speed of most attacks, but he was surprised to see that some of the fox’s attacks were enhanced with air-infused strikes that extended its reach and left ghastly wounds wherever they landed.
When Mike was still 50 feet from the battle the world seemed to slow as yet another vulture descended with mind-numbing speed. The moment before it struck, the fox turned its head towards him, looking directly into his eyes. In that instant, which was shorter than a single beat of his raging heart, he felt as if the mother both recognized his attempt to help and evaluated his worthiness to do so. He must have been found worthy, since the fox flicked two of its cubs airborne and in the path of his trajectory only a split second before the bird struck with the sound of a thunderclap. The resulting shockwave followed immediately after, and it took all of his concentration to not be buffeted off course.
He managed to snatch the first foxling by the scruff of its neck as it flew past his location, forcing him to steer the sled with only one hand as he aimed for the cub that was tumbling through the air. The final instincts of the dying parent had been precise however, and he managed to grab it with his other hand in the instant before it struck the ground, forcing his hand to touch the scorching sand and causing blisters to form. Yelping against the pain, he guided the sled sideways, gently at first to lose momentum, and then more sharply to come to a complete stop, a task that was more difficult with both hands being occupied.
Conscientious of the killer vultures that had surely turned their attention to him in the two seconds that had transpired since the fox’s death, he found his feet in an instant, tucked the foxes in his arms like two footballs, channeled Strength and Toughness into Dexterity, and charged up the hill, activating Footsteps of the Wind as he did so. By siphoning 10 of each attribute and with the subsequent tripling from the skill, he was able to reach a 252 Dexterity, almost as high as the 280 he had reached before. He was briefly tempted to dump his remaining unassigned points into Dexterity, which would help reach a new record, but decided against it almost as fast as the thought surfaced. The vultures likely had over 400 dexterity, and an extra 30 wasn’t going to make much of a difference in the here now, while they might just be essential in progressing one of his skills down the road.
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Though his Dexterity was much higher than anyone of his Level, it was nowhere near the amount that the birds had, and were it not for Damage Premonition, he would have stood no chance of escaping. Damage Premonition also wouldn’t have been enough had any other monster been chasing him, but as these enemies attacked by dive bombing from above, he only had to avoid three attacks.
At the first warning, he skipped to the left, off balance, but managing to stay upright despite the shockwave of sand that hit him a moment later. The second warning followed immediately after, and he dove forward, rolling ungracefully in a desperate attempt to protect his payload. Finding his feet as quickly as he could, he began running again, only taking two steps before the final warning forced him to leap into a dive, which brought him to the door of his shelter just as Footsteps of the Wind died out.
After seeing the destroyed burrow earlier, he knew he wasn’t out of danger yet, and he wiggled forward into the tunnel and down the shaft until he reached his bedroom. Crawling to the corner, he leaned against the metal wall, cradling each whelp and sushing gently despite the way the walls shook and the very air seemed to vibrate with each concussive blast.
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The assault lasted for an entire hour, after which Mike heard the raspy, hissing sounds that the species emitted while feeding. He didn’t have to be a genius to realize that they had found the meat room. The loss piled onto the load he was already carrying from being unable to save the other cubs. There was no denying it, he would have to move again. Thankfully, despite the meat he had lost, he had managed to process enough food and water to last him for months, although he was unsure how that timeline changed with the newest members of his traveling group. Surely foxcubs couldn’t eat too much, right?
Once the cubs had been triple checked for injuries and given some food, he pulled out some wurm hide and began to fashion a carrying device for his charges. The work was slow going due to the thickness of the leather, but thanks to extra energy provided by the adrenaline stemming from the day’s events, he was able to rig something together. The completed piece was a set of of shoulder pads that had a pouch fashioned on each side. The pouches could be closed when he needed to sled, which would prevent the sand from hitting the cubs and stop them from falling out. The final touch was adding air holes to the bottom of each pouch.
When at last the feasting noises above ended and all was silent, he began the arduous task of leaving his burrow. He had to be very careful as he slowly made his way upward, extracting the Quicksilver with him as he went. He couldn’t be sure, but it seemed the metal was beginning to respond to his wishes more quickly than it had before. Despite the care with which he extracted the metal, his excavated abode began to fall apart when the supporting endoskeleton had been removed, and it was with no small measure of relief when he was once again in his entryway, with only the oven still needing to be salvaged. It was as bad as he feared. The birds must have dive bombed straight through the vent as it was strewn in pieces throughout the room. The carefully designed, mirrored walls were bent and distorted, their usefulness destroyed. It was hard to see so much work be destroyed so thoroughly, almost vengefully, but more than anything, he regretted the loss of the meat. Several hundred pounds had been ravenously devoured, and getting more was always a worry. In his third interaction with monsters in this zone, he had once again barely been able to escape with his life.
Twenty minutes later, he had collected all of the Quicksilver, as well as the door to the room, which while obviously damaged from beaks, was still serviceable. It was still not quite twilight, but he made his way from his hideout anyways. He was certain that more than one other monster had seen the events of the day, and he wanted to be far away when they came looking for an easy meal.