Chapter 11: Experimentation

I stare at my window, looking over my status menu. My Health is currently sitting at max. Does that mean that my leaves…

I reach up to my forest crown and feel my hands rake through new leaves. I’m whole again.

My smile only widens as I look at the (H) after my species. So that is one grade down. Maybe things won’t be that bad after all. Sure, I had to kill lots of things to get this far, but it wasn’t that difficult.

Still, after looking at my status I see one problem. I didn’t gain a single stat from my evolution, only a few skill changes. Does that mean that there is no difference between a peak (I) grade and a level 0 (H) grade?

It has some advantages but this only spells more doom. With each level bringing more stats in each grade, the difference between a lvl 0 and a lvl 1 will grow. No, the differences in just the same grade will continue to grow until even when monsters are at the same level can dominate over each other.

Each grade will only let the very best through, growing progressively worse.

I really, really need to find a book or something to write on. I wasn’t good at maths in my previous life, though, I have the feeling that this all is essential to understand the system.

All the questions that keep popping up in my head get thrown into the pile in the back of my mind. Honestly, the next time I meet Sairal he’ll have to answer all the questions I have.

But now it is time for different matters. Eagerly I pull up my newest skill.

Roots of Nature (R) lvl 1/20: You are nature and you are roots. Allows the user to make small changes to their root body and to manipulate the roots in the immediate vicinity.

With this the possibilities are endless. I can make weapons to aid me in battle. Maybe I can even create a bow and learn how to properly use it from Sairal. Shooting down monsters from far away is great. It won’t even be that bloody.

I search around the room, finding a few dead roots hanging from the ceiling, clumps of dirt sticking on them. I pluck a few of them and activate the skill. In my mind, I feel the skill construct spring to life. It takes in my Stamina and the roots in my hand begin to change. They merge together and slowly begin to grow into something that might be called a spear if you strain the definition far enough.

I focus on lengthening the root while trying to maintain a sharp point. It’s far more difficult than I thought. My mind strains and the beginnings of a headache form.

I glance at my Stamina. The system wasn’t lying when it said that it uses far more stamina. Already, most of my pool has been emptied and I’m left with a spear that should be called a stick.

This project is going to take a while. It kind of disappoints me. I expected the skill to be better than just making a root grow a bit longer and pointier.

I wait for my Stamina to regenerate more and I head out, walking towards Sairal’s tree. I don’t know how long it usually takes to evolve so he might be back already from killing all those beavers. Besides, I really want to brag about my Epic evolution.

I pack the dirt out of the entrance and am greeted by a moody sky. Thick, roiling clouds hang up high, blocking the sun. Some of the clouds look bruised in shades of blue and deep purple.

Branches and leaves shudder under the violent assault of the wind. As I walk past the lake, I notice that all the Moss flamingos are gone, along with every other living monster. The forest looks almost desolate. The ever-present singing of the birds has fully fallen silent in anticipation.

The closer I get to Sairal’s tree, the more I notice that things are wrong. The lake is smaller, having not been fed by the stream for several days. In fact, the stream is still fully dry, spelling that the dryad hasn’t killed all the beavers yet.

I’m glad that I didn’t pick the Hydro mandrake. It would suck to be trapped in that lake, seeing the water level slowly decrease and your livable space shrink bit by bit until you are left with nothing and are easy pickings for some other monster.

My mind flicks back to that monster that almost killed me a few nights ago. Sairal called it a wolf-blooded alligator. That fear I felt, I never want to feel that again. I never want to be trapped in a cage again. I want to live my freest life.

The smell of blood fills my nose, and I quickly jump into the nearest bush. I curse my new evolution that has increased my size.

I peek out from the bushes and look for the source. My eyes fall upon the dryad’s tree I’ve been walking towards. All around it lay brownish, bloody, blobs, mushrooms growing in the pools of blood.

There are at least a hundred if not more corpses around the tree. Along it are a few pale white bodies with mushroom caps on their heads. He lost a few guardians to this attack. Luckily, there isn’t a scratch on his tree.

A (G) grade mushroom guardian along with two (F) grades stand guard around the tree. The two (F) grades, several heads taller than the weaker ones, stand at the back with their hands made into fists.

My eyes fall on the carpet of moss next. Most if not all of the glowing mushrooms are gone, only the smallest remaining.

There aren’t enough corpses for it to explain why there are so few mushrooms around his tree. Did Sairal call them to his location? Then the situation must be bad.

But even now I might barely make a difference. The gap between a (H) and an (E) grade is just too large. Maybe with some more levels under my belt, I might be able to take down some beavers at the edges of the fight…

With a plan in mind, I head out, searching for a few monsters and a few easy levels. Somewhere, I’m excited. I don’t have more stats but I have a new skill to test out. With the new upgrade, I must be able to make my claws sharper, even if the level of the skill reset. The rarity of the skill has been upgraded to (R) which must count for something.

I activate the skill and try to shape my claws. It’s strange. The feeling is similar, though, I feel like I can push the skill further than before. But somehow it requires more for me to change my claws and sharpen them.

I lengthen them by a good two centimetres and stretch my fingers. I need something to test the sharpness on. That brings me to my next question. Is it smart to search for something in (H) grade to take out? I’m at the bottom of the barrel again. A monster one level higher has a lot more stats than me. Might be better to adjust to everything as I take on some small fry.

The clouds rumble in discontent, drawing my attention. More have turned to shades of blue and purple with unnatural speed. Among them thunder crackles, the sky lighting up with flashes every few seconds.

I keep searching the forest for monsters while I push every available point of Stamina into Roots of Nature Sharpening my claws to a razor's edge.

After who knows how long, I find absolutely nothing. The forest is desolate of monsters, at least in this area. I head towards the stream, hoping that there might be a few monsters there. It’s always been crowded with monsters. Surely, there must be a few still out and about.

***

All too soon I reach the dead, dry stream with no monsters in sight. I walk along it, searching for anything. If it keeps going on like this I need to head home before the storm breaks.

A few minutes later I finally find my first monster of the day. I’m only slightly disappointed that it is one of those yellow snails. Well, I can test my improved claws on its shell.

The Segriad specked snail is moving up the trunk of one of the trees. With my new height, I reach up and grab the snail in my hand. It can’t reach any of my fingers, my hand now having grown large enough to properly hold it by its shell.

I scrape my finger over it, making the creature shudder and retreat into its shell. I’m kind of confused why this one is here in the forest. The only times I found them, were at the very outskirts. Maybe some new monster has set up shop there, and that is why it is retreating towards the centre?

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

I look down at the bits of shell that flake off. My claws have grown sharper by a lot. With some clear effort, I’m able to claw through its shell and kill it.

The acid the creature produces gets on the tips of my fingers and I hiss in pain. It takes a single point of health away, but more importantly, it has dulled my claws.

I spend a few more points of Stamina to reach the maximum sharpness again. Apparently, all the work I’ve done on them is enough to reward me for my first level in the skill.

I continue searching the forest for good prey to hunt until the pattering of rain draws my attention. If it grows worse I’ll need to retreat soon.

To my luck, I find several more of the snails as they come out of their hiding places and try to reach the highest point. It makes them easy pickings and when I slay the fifth one I receive my first level in this grade.

*Congratulations. You have gained a level. You are now level 1.

+6 HP +3 SP +1 Strength +2 Constitution +3 Free stat points

*Congratulations. You have gained a skill point.

*Congratulations. Thanks to your efforts you can now gain skills by achieving certain feats.

New things! I can gain skills now, so how do I do that?

A new window pops up in my mind.

Available skills

X

Oh, that’s disappointing. Though, getting so many stats and resources with just one level feels good.

Thunder booms through the sky and the clouds break open, letting more rain fall to the ground. I track my way back to the stream, using it as a landmark to lead me back to my home.

As it turns out, the stream is almost bursting out of its seams already and the rain has just begun.

The wind howls in my ears along with something else. Growing confused, I tune it out and listen to the other sounds. My head turns upstream. I look at the origin of it. Far, far away there is a greenish cloud that is quickly disappearing under the constant assault of the rain.

There is a new sound again. This time I’m able to make it out. A monster is howling in the storm, the sound twisted and pulled apart by the constant barrage of wind.

It can’t be the beavers or something that belongs to the monsters of night. Their howls are more guttural and crazed. This…it’s different as if someone is contentiously cutting the air apart with something.

I know I shouldn’t head upstream. I know that there might be beavers around or worse. Yet my feet lead me upstream. While I’m carelessly curious right now, I will still make a promise to myself: I will not intervene in any fight I might see. I barely match the weakest beavers, and I don’t even want to talk about the stronger ones.

Slow and steady, trying not to slip on the slick grass, I make my way towards the beaver dam. The sound of rain drowns out anything else, making it easy for me to advance unimpeded.

As I dart from bush to bush, I curse myself for not having checked how the evolution would affect my body. Being large has too many downsides. Then again, seeing that I don’t fit in these small bushes anymore gives me some amount of joy seeing that I’m progressing.

The clouds rumble in anger and discontent. I look up and my mouth falls open in shock. Instead of the grey, slightly bruised sky, I have gotten used to in the past hours, it now is a deep blue, only reserved for clouds that hold the most rain. They blanket the sky, suffocating the world from any sunlight. In response the world has grown dark, almost close to night.

I didn’t realise it until I looked up. Now, what do I do? Will the monsters that roam during the night come out? And why does the air feel so electric? I’m almost certain that this feeling isn’t just in my mind.

I keep moving forwards, even when the ground slopes upwards and struggle through the water that rolls down the incline in unnatural quantities. The long blades of grass move along with the water that races down. With how much it rained in the previous hour, I’m certain that the lake near Sairal’s tree has grown immensely.

The only good thing about this all is that most if not all of the monsters are hiding from the storm. Probably because the weather is so intense, which makes me wonder if heading towards the beavers is such a smart idea. Have I fallen to the dumb monster syndrome that has felled many like me in fictional works? I don’t think so. It might not be the best decision to travel towards the beavers, but it’s sure as hell better than going downhill.

The sky isn’t clearing up at all, in fact, it is growing even worse. I’m glad that I’m not at home right now, relaxing in my new, larger root chamber. I might have drowned.

The rain intensifies again. Thick globs of water, that can’t be called rain anymore fall out of the sky. The wind screams in my ear, silencing everything else.

Now I’m certain that I don’t want to be anywhere near the lake. I kind of regret not taking the Hydro Mandrake as an evolution. There would be so many things caught in the water now. I bet I could’ve evolved again before everything goes to normal.

The slight incline becomes steeper and steeper until I have to grab onto the trees to make sure that I don’t get washed away by the literal tide of water.

I climb the closest tree, wanting to see how far the dam is. I don’t want to be right on top of it and accidentally join the fight. Oddly, climbing a tree is far easier than I thought in this downpour. Before I know it, I reach the top of the tree. Not much farther upstream I can see the dam the beavers built. To call it a dam would be an insult. Entire trees, trimmed of their leaves and branches are stacked together in an unorderly fashion blocking the water. And the dam isn’t thin either. On average it must be a good three or four metres in width.

I keep staring at it and find shapes moving on top of it. One figure is surrounded by countless brown blobs that keep attacking it together. My body leans forwards to get a better look. Then the wind rushes past, almost blowing me out of the tree.

Hurriedly, I climb back down to search for a better vantage point. I promised myself that I wouldn’t join, but I didn’t say anything about watching. I might even learn something new.

I sneak closer to the wooden wall of stacked logs and branches and climb one of the closest trees near the dam, which is in truth, is quite far away since the beavers cut down all the trees they could get their hands on.

Once again I climb to the top and am greeted by a clearer view of the battle.

Sairal is fighting one beaver that is as large as a car while holding off all the smaller beavers with the spare arrows he manages to fire when he isn’t distracted.

Around him, dozens of mushroom guardians hold off the beavers that make it past his attacks.

His arrows cut through the air while he dodges some beavers in a mesmerising dance. He pulls several vials of glowing liquid out of thin air and throws them at clumps of weaker beavers.

The green clouds of smoke which I saw earlier rise where the vials broke. The smaller beavers immediately begin to cough and choke, mushrooms growing in their airways. Most of them collapse in a few seconds but the stronger ones dash forward only to collapse in a heap a dozen metres later.

My eyes are drawn to all the dead beaver corpses that lay scattered on the dam. There must be at least a thousand, more corpses added to the count with each moment.

Sairal dodges the beaver that rushes over the wall with the speed of a freight train. It amazes me that he is able to take care of an (E) grade whilst still keeping the dozens if not hundreds of weaker beavers at bay. The weaker ones just keep coming like a ceaseless tide. Like a plague.

I take in the rest of the scene, like that dam which oddly doesn’t budge the slightest under destruction the fight brings, or the veritable endless amount of water that is held back by it. Though, water does spurt out in some places from the sheer pressure alone.

The reservoir slowly rises at a visible level thanks to the endless rain. No matter how sturdy that dam is but water will spill over soon enough.

And that is the moment when the weather intensifies again, the clouds ceaselessly rumbling in the background with rage. Together with the wind, it makes a haunting melody of storm and wrath.

Back on the dam, the dance continues. Blood leaks into the water and onto the logs, making them even more slippery. Still, the dryad fights on, throwing bottles and vials, shooting poisonous arrows, even going far enough to stab a dagger he pulls out of his spatial pocket into the beast when he gets the chance.

It continues for what might be half an hour. I see Sairal getting more desperate as the fight continues. It’s odd to me. He seems perfectly capable of taking down everything while holding that monstrous beaver at the same time. Yet he starts to throw more and more types of vials and bottles around.

One of them is a bottle with purple spores and like all the others it explodes in a cloud. But this cloud actively follows its targets. It flies towards the closest beavers like a swarm of angry wasps. Once it is upon them, the spores explode in a fiery explosion that is quickly extinguished a few seconds later.

More bottles fly through the air. First one at the time, then two. In response, the beavers grow more fierce, seeing their kin slaughtered by the dozens.

I look at the carnage and decide one thing. He is strong, the strongest being I have seen. Stronger than all the beavers put together, even stronger than the wolf-blooded monstrosity that almost killed me.

The large (E) grade beaver slips on the logs slick with the blood of its kin. The dryad takes advantage of it. In a flash, there is an arrow sticking out of one of the beaver's eyes. It continues to rampage towards the dryad, only to receive a dagger in its other eye.

All the remaining beavers cry out and rush at him at once.

He uses eight bottles of the green spores and everything around him is dead in just a few seconds.

Seeing that the fight is over, I climb back down to greet him. It takes some work for me to climb the stupid dam and wait for the spores to fully clear up out of the air.

When I finally manage to approach him, he is tearing down a large wooden construction that peeks out from above the water.

I stroll towards him, a smug smile on my face, ready to brag about my Epic evolution. Too caught up in the fantasy, I don’t notice the shifting and groaning of the wood below my feet.

“Sairal! I evolved!” I yell out loud as I can, only for the wind to swallow up my words.

I move closer towards him. Midway, I pause sensing something odd. I don’t know what it is, but it feels weird.

Sairal kneels down and picks up a reddish half-consumed orb. He looks at it, his face grim.

“What is that? I ask, bragging about my evolution postponed.

He turns, anger clear on his face. It radiates off him and the wood continues to groan under us as if it cannot withstand the weight of it. “They planned it,” he whispers with tangible rage in his voice, “They planned it all.”