Chapter 5

It took me another ten minutes to clean the mud off of myself and my boots. While jumping four feet, normally, was something I could do with ease, there had been a few things that I’d misjudged. First, my foot, the one I’d previously stuck in the water, was wet, and still had a small amount of mud on it. Second, the grass at the edge of the stream was wet. Third, the ground nearest the edge of the stream was softer than the rest of the ground I’d been walking on, and also, was damp. Meaning, with all of these factors in play, when I pressed off to jump with the same force I was used to using on solid stone, it didn’t turn out as planned. I’d slipped and ended up full on in the cold stream, splashing water and mud everywhere, and soaking myself fully to the bone.

After that, I had a different opinion of the stream. It was no longer the magical source of holy Tower water. It was an obstacle that would forever remind me of that lapse in judgement and mistake and was now the source of my discomfort as I continued traveling through the first floor.

At the very least, either by luck, or the Tower sensing my misfortune, the forest before me began to thin after another hour of walking. Before me I could see a massive clearing, similar to the one we’d been teleported to. This clearing, far as I could see, was still devoid of my fellow recruits. However, it wasn’t empty.

Various animals milled about, large black and white creatures with hanging pink sacks underneath their bellies, which chewed lazily on the grass. I was pretty sure they were cows, based on the descriptions I’d read. Farmers could use them to create milk, which in turn could be turned into butter, cheese, and other such food items. Furthermore, killing a cow could result in meat that could be cooked in a variety of ways, and their skin could be turned into leather by a tanner. By the Tower’s graces, the creatures were infinite. Everything that existed in the tower reset daily. No one knew how, or why. Purely that all living things within the tower would return, regardless of their fate the day prior, at the start of every Dawn.

With that thought in mind, I made my way out of the forest, adding a new task to my main one. I was still searching for the glow of the portal that would take me to the second floor. But nothing said I couldn’t kill a few of these creatures while I was at it. At the very least, the meat could be traded with the cooks and butchers in town, earning me some coin. And if I took the skin to the tanner, I’d be able to pay to have it turned to leather or could trade it to him for some of his current stock. Doing that would put me on the path to gaining what I needed to have new gear crafted for me. Considering the abuse my current gear had already undergone, I had no doubt I’d want new gear sooner, rather than later.

I grinned to myself as I approached the first creature. It was massive, as tall as my five foot nine, and probably at least five times as heavy as me, likely more. I looked it over, judging how best to deal with the creature. The goblin had been easy. It was humanoid, and we’d trained to fight such things. These cows though, where were the vital points? The neck, obviously, but it was thick, and I doubted my short sword would be able to cleave it in two. The blade was too light for such a feat, and I didn’t have the strength. As for its other vitals… the body was a mass of muscle and fat.

There are two absolutes for creatures on the first floors. Commander Phyr’s voice came unbidden to my mind. Destroy the head, and you destroy the foe. Or… I envisioned Commander Phyr’s laughter. He’d chuckled, a dark, sadistic sound, when he’d been teaching this lesson. Burn it with fire.

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I sighed as I eyed the cow up and down again. Do I use another of my precious fireballs? That seemed like a waste. I only had four left, and many more floors to go. With that though, I stepped up to the side of the creature, and grabbed hold of my sword with both hands. I rose the blade up high, the creature completely uncaring as it munched lazily on some grass. The creature didn’t even make eye contact with me.

“Here goes nothing.” I swung my sword down with as much force as I could. The blade sunk about half a foot into the neck, before it caught on bone. It bent at a weird angle.

“Moooooo.” The cow bellowed. It jerked its head and shifted its body rapidly, and my blade, stuck in between fat, muscle, and vertebrae, was ripped free from my hands. The cow bucked about, sending blood and spittle flying as it continued to let out a startled bellow. The other creatures in the area, strangely enough, continued to eat their grass as if nothing were happening.

“Shit shit shit.” I growled as I tried to grab hold of my sword. During training we’d been taught hand to hand combat. On top of that, we’d trained to intercept staff blows with our hands, utilizing various martial arts techniques to effectively turn blows aside, or disarm our foes. Those…had been easy tasks after a while, drilled into us by trial and repetition. When someone was striking at you, it was easy to intercept. You knew the trajectory, the path.

Trying to grab hold of a sword that was lodged in the neck of a violently thrashing cow, was anything but predictable. The creature, for all its size, was weirdly agile. And all the while it bellowed something fierce, violently shaking too and fro. I had to worry about not only trying to free my sword, but also avoid its jerking head, atop which two massive, pointed horns sprouted. Furthermore, it kept trying to slam its massive body into me, and when that didn’t work, kept trying to turn itself enough to kick me with its massive hooves.

All of these things, thanks to my training, I was able to avoid. Between a mixture of agile footwork, and some deftly timed shield blocks, I was able to avoid any injuries while dealing with the cow. And, after a good five or so minutes of the struggle and charade, I finally managed to free my sword. A task made possible not due to any brilliant action on my part, sadly, but due to the cow’s own exhaustion.

The massive creature so wildly thrashed about, so wildly flung itself too and fro in its panic, that it eventually wore itself down. The blade, all the while during its struggles, had continued to cut in, the head throws of the cow actually serving, as the muscles contracted, to pull the blade deeper into its wound. Through a combination of the ever-biting sword, its extreme panic, and exhaustion, the cows struggles slowed enough that I could reclaim my weapon. Once I had, it was easy enough to finish off the poor creature. By that point, the fight in it was gone. Its eyes were white with panic, and it stood there, trembling on ever weakening limbs, as I finished it off.

When it disappeared, I felt no elation. I knew it was a creature of the Tower, and its existence was to sustain us. But that whole struggle, while embarrassing, had felt…wrong. Blasphemous even. I’d made a gift from the Tower suffer. As the body disappeared, and I cleaned my blade once more, I eyed the rest of the cows, and made a prompt decision. I’d leave them be for now, and return during a later climb, when I could ensure I could kill the creatures in a swift, painless manner.

As a climber, we were trained to battle and fight and kill. At the root of all of that was a single, underlying truth. We did what we had to because we had to. And that meant never purposefully drawing out a fight or causing excess suffering. We were climbers, not monsters. And to cause undue suffering, was something a monster did. Something I refused to willingly do ever again.