A Salamander threw itself at him from the ceiling. Micah dodged and punched it in the face. It still bent towards him in an attempt to scratch his hand, but Micah’s gloves were in the way. Below, two bit into his left toes and ankle but his boot was in their way. A third was climbing up his right leg.
That one, Micah slipped his dagger out of his sheath and stabbed. He glimpsed the Kobold reach over for its staff and kicked it in the ribs. Hard. At least, he assumed he kicked its ribs because he was assuming it had ribs like they did. It went back down and he kicked its staff away. If it wanted it, it seemed like a good idea to take it away.
Two more Salamanders came flying at him and Micah backed up as they did. One from the ceiling another from the wall. He sidestepped the one from the ceiling and swung his arm out to shake off the one that landed there, though it clung on for its dear life.
Even as he looked around and fought, his eyes counted. Eight … ten … twelve … fourteen Teacup Salamanders. Based on their outlines, all of them were unmade. Also, one first-floor Kobold which was down and clutching its side in what appeared to be a gesture of pain. Whether or not it actually did feel pain was irrelevant. It reacted, so Micah could use that.
All in all, they were manageable odds.
Another Teacup Salamander had joined the two tugging at his left leg. Two ran for his right from both sides. Not good. They were threatening to topple him over.
Micah stomped on that one behind him and stabbed the other, then wrenched the blade and the beast it was sticking it aside. He freed it and slashed left, then kicked out to free his left leg, backing off.
Manageable odds, yes, but only if he was careful. His neck and face were completely exposed. He couldn’t let any Salamanders get near them. The tip of his calves, his knees, the upper part of his legs, his hips, and elbows were only covered by either thick clothes or a padded shirt. These tiny beasts would rip through those with their sharp teeth, given time. He couldn’t allow them to bring him to the ground.
That being said …
One of them jumped up and bit Micah in the back of his leg. Another dropped down from the ceiling to land on his arm and crawled up towards his neck.
As Micah stumbled back from the weights hitting him, he slammed his shoulder up and helmet down on a Salamander's head. Once, twice. It was dazed and he grabbed it with his left hand and threw it at one of its kin. He ignored the one gnawing on his leg in favor of stabbing more pressing enemies.
… that being said, as long as it wasn’t urgent, Micah didn’t care. Just because they would bite his leg and numb his flesh a little, why should he worry? It was barely bringing him off-balance and he had potions. He actually grinned a little as he realized just how freaking screwed his enemies were.
Run, he thought for them.
The Kobold had finally managed to get up into a crouch. It was hugging its side and shambling towards its staff, and Micah frowned at the sight.
Why? Why did it wants its staff so bad? Could it not cast magic at all without it? Or did it trust in the Salamanders’ ability to hold Micah off long enough to get it? What benefits would the staff offer that were greater than offering immediate assistance to its allies in overwhelming him? An affinity boost, surely. From the fire crystal. But was there anything else?
Micah cocked his head. Maybe it was just stupid?
Interesting.
He took a few more steps back and shot the Kobold with a glue-ball. It splattered across its shirt and didn’t impede it any, but it reacted in surprise. Good to know. He shot two more at the ground just before the staff to glue it up, then shot stones at a few wounded Salamanders in the distance, killing one he had stabbed already after two hits, and switched back to his knife.
The glue wouldn’t hold long, but it would delay the Kobold. Micah wanted it to get its staff. He was curious about what else it could do. But in the meantime, he had to thresh this wheat before him.
Another Salamander bit his shin ineffectively. Micah bent forward to stab it and realized his mistake when a second landed on his back. Coupled with his exhaustion from having run here, it toppled him over and Micah let it. He went with the force into a roll over the stone ground and right back on his feet, wobbling as he stood.
He was dizzy, and he'd collected three more Teacup Salamanders on the way, but he praised Garen’s name in two different languages, though he wasn’t quite sure what the literal translation of the Bavish prayer song was.
Thankfully, he had his armor or he would have been riddled with a dozen different bite wounds by now. All of his limbs would be falling asleep. As it were, he could simply focus on killing the Salamanders that were getting close to his weak spots, then the ones pushing him off-balance, and finally the ones that were close to dying or about to become a threat.
Not that there were many of those. They really were just angry little cousins of Sam, weren’t they? They couldn’t even eat an entire crystal on their own. Cute. Not as cute as Sam, though.
By now, his stabs, kicks, and shield bashes were actually bursting the beasts into smoke and Micah had to retreat to lean on his side a little as he caught his breath. He desperately wanted to drink something, but the Teacup Salamanders were already bursting through the smoke after him.
And through one patch of cleared smoke, Micah spotted something less cute. The Kobold had finally managed to wrench its staff off the ground and was holding a palm out towards him. Its crystal glowed and Micah knew what was coming.
He threw himself out of the way as a fist-sized ball of fire streaked past where he had just stood. The flames hit the stone a few steps back and puffed away. Their fire didn’t even linger.
Micah forced himself to frown and keep calm instead of panicking. He knew this was coming. Of course, the Kobold was going to use fire magic. It was just a simple [Firebolt]. Just a [Firebolt]. But was that all it could do, even with the staff? That was … disappointing? Disappointing, right? Not … not scary at all. Micah scowled, shook his head, and cursed to clear his mind.
Too impatient to switch out for his slingshot, he plucked a stone out of his pouch and threw it at the Kobold. It hit right between its eyes, not really doing anything because he hadn’t thrown it very hard. Micah couldn’t afford to make it bleed.
It reacted anyway and snarled something at him, raising its palm to prepare its next spell.
He was willing to give it the benefit of the doubt. If it didn’t show off anything cooler, he would just have to take its little toy away. Without breaking it, of course. Maybe it would make a nice present for Lisa? Wait, no, that would subtract from his grade … Lisa was going to have to forgive him this once. He could buy her a wand or something else some other time.
In the meantime, there was no way in hell he was getting anywhere near those flames.
He kicked a charging Teacup Salamander to the side and bent his knees a little more as the red crystal glowed again. Another Salamander latched on its arm at the same time as the Kobold aimed for his head, and Micah remembered something. He cut and wrenched it off to hold it up in front of his face by its tail.
The Kobold’s eyes went wide and it lowered its hand. The [Firebolt] shot out and to the ground halfway between them.
Micah remembered how angry the Kobold had been when it had seen the dead Teacup Salamander lying between them. It had punched him. It wouldn’t hurt its allies. Good to know.
Micah tossed the Teacup Salamander aside and stabbed another. He had to roll out of the way as two jumped off the ceiling in an attempt to go for his head. The Kobold tracked him with its palm and Micah plucked a bleeding Salamander off the ground to throw it.
The mage hissed something as it clumsily attempted to catch the beast. Maybe a curse.
Micah followed and tackled towards it, but the Kobold ducked and ran out of the way. It brought its staff down at him, apparently unconcerned about its crystal flashing on top.
Micah wanted to aim for it. Maybe he could pluck it out of its cradle? But then the staff burst into flames halfway through its arc and his hand flinched back. He blocked the strike with his shield, flipped his knife sideways, and pushed its arm wide as he aimed for an uppercut.
In a surprising show of agility, The Kobold pulled its head away and snapped at his hand with its sharp teeth.
Micah dragged back, but it sunk its teeth into his glove and they both pulled. The glove slipped halfway off. Micah let go of it and followed up with another shoulder tackle, hitting the monster this time.
He backed off and caught his breath as it stumbled. He had just wanted to check what it would do in a melee situation anyway. Apparently, that burning staff was its go-to trick up its figurative sleeve. He hadn't been expecting the bite, though.
More and more Teacup Salamanders were jumping off of the ceiling now, having learned their lesson that attacking him from below was ineffective. His head and throat were his real weak spots. And now his hand, he supposed. Micah didn’t want to lose any fingers if he could help it.
He bashed two out of the air with his shield, cut down another, and wrenched a third off his shoulder when it landed on him there. These things were starting to get annoying, though.
While the Kobold recovered, he killed two more. He sunk his dagger into the stomach of a third just when the three curving arrows made of fire streaked through the smoke towards him.
Micah’s eyes went wide and he brought his shield up to block two, but the third struck him in his waist. For a second, Micah clutched at it and remembered pain. Searing pain that made him cry out and stumble. But after a moment, all he felt was warm, bent metal. The arrow hadn’t even pieced him.
Micah breathed for a second, punched a Salamander, and felt a little stupid as he got up. Armor. He was wearing armor. The fire couldn’t reach him through two layers. Everything was alright.
The Kobold fired two more and Micah got to see how it cast this time. It held its staff out, reminiscent of a bow, and drew back with its other hand. The fire arrows just appeared as if they had been spun out of strands of flame. When it loosed, they shot towards him.
Micah dodged to the side. The arrows seemed to follow after him. While he unintentionally blocked one with his shield, the other hit his knee and knocked his leg out from under him. His chin hit the ground first and his teeth slammed together.
His bone felt fine, thanks to his strap. His teeth did not. But Micah couldn’t linger. He threw himself into a sideways roll.
When he stopped, a Teacup Salamander immediately started gnawing on his elbow. Another came for his neck and Micah headbutted it, then looked up to see any fire arrows that might be coming his way, but there were none.
The Kobold was leaning on its staff, exhausted, and Micah wondered how much had that spell taken out of it. How much mana did a first floor Kobold have? How much did [Firebolt] cost?
He didn’t know.
Micah wondered what its other spell was called. [Fire Volley]? [Fire Arrows]? [Homing Fire Arrow Volley of Doom], perhaps? Something like that, for sure. Lisa would know. He’d have to ask her later.
For now, he groaned as he sat up and found his pants were burning. Around his knee, a patch was gone where the arrow had struck him and the edges of it were on fire. Micah hit it once with his right, gloveless hand out of instinct and immediately pulled back, hissing at the heat, and frantically slapped it out with his left glove instead, but it barely did anything.
This couldn’t be happening. Not again. First, it would burn his clothes, and then his skin, his muscles, his flesh, his bones, reaching ever deeper …
Micah wouldn't let it. He got out his flask with a last few dregs of water in it and dumped it over instead, finally quenching the flames enough to smother them out and was able to breathe again. He tossed the flask aside in frustration.
Then he wrenched the Teacup Salamander from his now-numb, shredded elbow, tossed it aside, and looked up at the Kobold. It had shot him. With a fire arrow. His pants had a hole in it, his teeth felt chipped, and his knee crooked. Micah was seriously reconsidering his plan of not hurting it.
But instead of charging it, he got up and forced himself to ask, “What else can you do?”
The Kobold snarled something and raised a palm again.
Micah blocked the [Firebolt] with his shield and gave it a disappointed look when he lowered it again. “Yeah, no. I’ve seen your [Firebolt] spell. What else?”
It snarled.
Micah drew his slingshot and snapped a glue-ball into its face. If it wouldn’t communicate, he would shut it up. While it tried to claw the stuff of itself, he assessed the room. Five Salamanders were left, most of them wounded.
Micah shot a few more stones at one, but didn’t manage to kill it. He scowled and switched for his knife again. By the time the Kobold had freed itself, he had killed two more and was limping towards it.
He killed another two on the way, blocked a swipe from the Kobold’s staff, and planted a foot in its stomach. It fell and dropped its staff, and Micah wondered why it hadn’t just stepped back to avoid the kick. Then he noticed its slightly bent legs and wondered if it even could walk back.
He fetched the last Teacup Salamander as he crouched down in front of it and slit its throat, wondering if he knew about any animals that couldn’t walk backward. Was it all of them? No, Micah thought he had seen cats retreat before. Slowly, yes, but they could do it, right?
Another question to ask.
When the Kobold looked up, he said, “Fourteen. You couldn’t save any of them, could you? Don’t you have any spells to aid them or impede me? Maybe give them a cool fire cloak or something? A net of flames to slow me down? Something to trip me up? You know, I’m only in danger if I’m on the ground.”
Its face twisted in anger. It drew something from inside its shorts and lunged towards him.
Micah batted its hand aside with his shield hand and backhanded it with the other. The small black object it had held skid to the ground and he leaned over to pick it up. It was a small, stone knife. More like a large arrowhead, really. It had a tiny hilt, but not much else. As he gave it a closer look, the red light of the Den seemed to catch on its surface and it looked almost glossy. Maybe not stone then, but … crystal? No, glass.
Obsidian?
Micah ran a naked finger along its edge. Sharp, yes. But not sharpened. Its tip was almost flat. He flipped it around and held it back to the stunned creature sitting there.
“There. Take it.”
It looked confused, glanced at him, then at the knife. The only thing Micah did was look around as he nudged it towards the beast. Where was his glove, by the way? Slowly, it took the object from him and promptly stabbed Micah in the waist, right where he had stabbed it back then.
Micah knew, because both of his arms were still beneath the Kobold’s, guiding it toward where Micah wanted it to go. The blade didn’t pierce his armor. The Kobold seemed to realize its mistake too late and he punched it again and the weapon dropped from its hand.
“You’re pathetic, you know that?” he asked it and sat down. He hugged his angled legs, finally catching his breath a little. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, but that’s the only conclusion I can come to. Where is your [Fireball] from last time? Didn’t you have enough time to cast it? No. Of course, not. I’m fighting back this time, aren’t I? And you— You’re weak.”
He groaned and ruffled his own hair, mumbling, “This is the first floor after all. No matter how deep I’m in.”
The Kobold was lying beaten on the ground next to him and struggling to stand up with its staff. “I apologized you know?” he said. “I came into your home. I killed two of your … kin?”
The Kobold didn’t answer.
“Kin. I stabbed you. I apologized. And what did you do? You drove a scared child into a corner like a wild animal. You hid behind an army of monsters. You tortured me with the knowledge that I was going to die and there was nothing I could do to stop it. And for what? To get revenge for a construct that can’t even feel at all? Can you even feel anger, that you would want revenge? Why are you wearing clothes when you have nothing to be modest about? Does this thin cloth have any kind of protective properties? What are you?”
It dragged its staff beneath it, hunched over on the ground.
Micah sighed and slipped his backpack on his lap. He opened it and went looking for something, but glanced back as he spoke in case it had any more of those daggers. “You could have just put a flaming arrow through my throat and killed me, you know? But no. You had to have it your way. Was it mercy? Did you think it would be a mercy to obliterate me with one hit? It wasn’t, you know. But either way, I gave you a chance. I stabbed you. You punched me. I punched you in return. You got a chance at stabbing me in return, but you wasted it. We’re even. But you know wha—”
The Kobold interrupted him by throwing the large red crystal at him. That was why it had been fiddling with its staff, why it had hidden it under its own body. To free the stone. It was shining, red, overfilled with fire essence and mana. And their fight came full circle when it detonated the crystal and one tried to kill the other with an explosion.
Micah lifted his shield. No quick enough. The blast flung his arm wide and so he ducked behind his backpack. It still flung him tumbling across the room. He hit his head and covered his eyes as he felt shards of something cut past his face. A wave of heat made his ears burn and his body sweat.
Suddenly, everything felt crooked and chipped.
He landed near the exit and lay still, breathing, groaning … and grinning. So that it had been the last trick. When it was out of every other option, it sacrificed its weapon in a last resort. Good. To. Know. Micah was going to be sure to put it in his extensive report later.
Unfortunately for it, that blast wasn’t as strong as a [Fireball] and Micah was still wearing armor. Three layers of protection trumped all of their pathetic weapons on the first floor. Not that his body agreed with him. It groaned and needed a moment to start working again.
A Teacup Salamander came from the tunnel and headed for his throat. Micah grabbed his backpack, put it between them, and rolled over onto it to groan some more. It was writhing beneath the cloth. He let it. After a moment, he sat down on the Salamander, glanced at the seemingly unconscious Kobold, wondered if it had fire resistance, and looked for the middle-grade healing potion the school had issued them.
He took a swig of it, felt it soothe his body, and put it back in his pack. The frontmost compartment was hanging off and there was a tearing running through the second one. Some of its loose edges were charred. ”Ah, that’s good stuff.”
His voice sounded weird. Micah worked his jaw a little to make his ears work right again. He wondered if the school would let him keep some of the potion for inspection. Same with the glowing wristband. Where was his knife? Ah. There. He killed the Teacup Salamander and got up.
The Kobold was getting up on shaky legs on the other side of the room. It had been hit by the blast as well, even if it had tried to duck out of the way. Micah was surprised it was even alive at all. Did thin clothing and a layer of scales count as protection? He doubted it.
Micah limped towards it and only realized he was almost half a head taller than it now when he headbutted it to its knees.
“If you would have let me finish speaking,” he said as he pulled its staff away from it and shoved it to the ground. “I was about to say: It doesn’t matter. You don’t matter. I’m not here to kill you or get revenge.”
And with that said, Micah shut up. His demeanor shifted as he left out a tired sigh. Why should he talk to it anymore? He wasn’t here to kill it. He was just here so it could get him a good grade on the entrance exam, so he could get into that school, and move on with his life.
He slipped his hand into his backpack and brought out a bundle of rope. The question was: How was he going to keep it alive long enough to show it off to the judges? How quickly did fully-formed even die outside the Tower? Why did they die anyway? Was this one even fully-formed?
He squinted at it, but saw no swirl. He wondered if that was confirmation enough to tell.
Either way, Micah thought back to Tuesday and Mave’s aura. Be creative, they had told him. As he thought about a way to force the Kobold to stay alive outside of the Tower, three of his Skills helped him find the beginning of an answer. Foremost among them, [Personalized Alchemy].
Who had decided that he needed to use it to help people?
Micah tied the Kobold up, arms and legs. He didn’t have enough rope for its mouth and ripped the rest of his free-hanging pants sleeve off for that. He grabbed its staff, lamented over the missing crystal, collected all the other crystals on the ground around the room along with his glove, and dragged it up the stairs after him to the treasure room.
A chest stood there, but there were no other exits. It seemed a little smaller than the last one had been. Micah looked at it, at the Kobold, and wondered if it could fit inside. Maybe with a little force?
He set the Kobold down, patted it down to make sure it didn’t have anymore of those obsidian knives … shivs, dagger … He honestly wasn’t sure what to call it. It was basically an oversized arrowhead. Spearhead? Ryan with a spear still seemed weird to him, but Micah guessed he had his reasons. Spears were better in a lot of situations, especially when fighting beasts.
A Kobold with a spear. Now that would have been dangerous. And useful. To them. Not him. Why hadn’t the Kobold just have found a stick or a bone to wrap its knife around and then poked at him instead of firing fire arrows that taxed it more than they threatened Micah? An actual slingshot would have been more dangerous. Sure, spells were cool, but this was about practicality.
He sighed as he didn’t find anything and walked off with the Kobold’s other two belongings. To the chest. A treasure chest. Micah grinned a little as he opened it, needed a moment to focus his eyes, and peered inside.
Two identical sealed scrolls, their stamps showing the image of a sharp tooth over overlapping scales, and a small pouch of thick hemp drawn tight with a flimsy string were its contents. The latter was barely bigger than Micah’s closed fist. All in all, the items took up a corner of the chest. The rest was empty.
He carefully drew the bag open and found … marbles. Glass marbles filled with twisted sashes that reminded him of Cat’s Eyes, but they were only one color instead of two—red.
He carefully leaned left and right to get a count of them without touching any. There were maybe twelve of them, but he didn’t know what they were. He wasn’t exactly too interested either. He’d never played with marbles.
It was a good thing the scrolls were both sealed, too. Micah desperately wanted to keep this all for himself, but as long as he didn’t know what any of it was, he couldn’t know if he could want it or if it would be worth anything. That made the thought of handing it over for the exam easier.
With that in mind, he checked his wristband. It was glowing an ugly orange, meaning he still had two to three hours left. Did Micah need to go anywhere? He checked his pouch with the glue balls and found more than half of them had been broken during the fight, leaving a mess.
He checked his supplies of fire crystals, the Kobold, the treasure chest, and measured it with his eyes and Skills. Would it be enough?
He shook his head sadly. Micah had to hurry. He began to pack everything up and glanced back at the Kobold just in time to see that it had freed one clawed hand from its ropes. But instead of slashing the rest, it had slipped off its mouth restraints and held a red soap-bubble up to it in its mouth between two clawed fingers.
It bit down. The bubble popped.
Micah was too late to stop it.
Like a ripple in a pond, something pushed through the air, and the stone, and the nearby tunnels. There was the sound of a water drop falling. Glug. Like the sound Sam rarely made. Then the Kobold let its head sag and looked smug.
Micah’s eyes went wide and he rushed to tie the Kobold back up again. Tighter, this time. He ignored its gurgled protests. What had that sound just now been? What had it done? He ran down the stairs and looked both ways, straining his ears to listen.
In the distance, he thought he could hear … hissing. Lots and lots of hissing. Oh, no. Oh, this was just great. Unlike him back then, it had remembered to whistle. Freaking Kobold. Micah ran up the stairs and packed his things, then untied the Kobold’s legs and dragged it up on its feet.
“Move,” he told it. There was no way he was sticking around for this. He doubted he could run carrying it, so it would have to walk itself.
The Kobold took one step forward before it turned around and tackled him.
----------------------------------------
“You brought deodorant?” the woman asked him as she held up the bottle of breeze potion.
“It’s not deodorant, ma’am,” Ryan said, forcing himself to be polite and not snap at her. “I have a Skill that heats up my skin. That potion creates a cooling breeze around me to counteract its effects.”
She frowned at him like she was considering poking his cheek to check—she wouldn’t have been the first person to have done that—then at the bottle, and said, “One second. Just let me check with a colleague.”
You do that, Ryan thought bitterly. And I’m just going to wait here. Micah could be dead in a ditch somewhere and Ryan was stuck at equipment inspections. That was just great.
This day had started bad and only gotten worse.
The equipment Ryan had ordered had been ready to pick up yesterday morning, but he had only gone to pick it up in the evening, while they had been shopping, because he had wanted to show it off as a final surprise before the test.
That had gone wrong.
The [Smith] had had to leave early because of an emergency, the sign on his closed shop had read. Thankfully, he had been there this morning or Ryan would have had to lease an entire set of equipment from the school today.
By the time he got here, he passed his parents on their way out and everyone was gathering in front of a podium for the exam to start. Thankfully, Ms. Denner had drawn attention to that Madin kid or Ryan would never have spotted Lisa and, two rows next to her, Micah.
Unfortunately, Micah’s row was the first one to go. Ryan had only been able to wish him good luck beforehand. He hadn’t even be able to give him advice or ask him what he was planning.
The end result was that Micah was on his own during an exam that allowed teamwork and it was Ryan’s fault.
“Should I mark it down as a stamina potion?” the woman behind the counter was asking.
Her colleague shook his head. “No. You just write down its properties. The judges will decide how it reflects on the grade.”
The woman seemed disappointed by that. Ryan was starting to worry about what she was writing down on his paper. Thankfully, they gave him the all clear a moment later and he could shove it out of his mind. Finally, he thought in relief and went straight for the portal’s line. It had been more than two hours already.
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As the line slowly moved forward, Ryan thought over what he was going to do. Micah was alone in the Tower and under a massive amount of pressure to succeed. Fortunately, Ryan knew where he was headed. There was one floor he could go to on his own without fail—the Wolves’ Den.
What did that mean? Would Micah take on an entire pack on his own? Hopefully not. Even if he got a fully-formed one or two, that might get him a good grade but it wasn’t worth the danger. And anyway, it was something anyone else could do. It wouldn’t distinguish him from others. Micah had to know that.
Ryan would rather he made a healing potion from Honey Ants or … Actually, Ryan hoped he would go to the Salamanders’ Den and look for a few fully-formed Teacup Salamanders or maybe a treasure chest. Even if he didn’t find one, getting something nobody else could was bound to get him a good grade. If he did find one, Ryan would be happy for him.
That hopeful dream fell apart when Ryan told the man at the portal, “Fourth Floor Wolves’ Den, please” and the man frowned and asked him, “Madin?”
Oh, no.
Micah had told someone about the Salamanders Den. Seven weeks later, someone with the resources to build a massive staircase out of Tower materials and excavate the collapsed floor had done just that. The fourth floor Wolves’ Den traditionally didn’t have a portal in, but now this man was taking it in stride when Ryan told him he wanted to go there and asked him, Madin?
Meaning, the Madins, the richest family in the city, had built those stairs. The man before him was bribed to send people affiliated with them to that exact location. There were at least two others Ryan knew of who were affiliated with the Madins attending today, their fourth son and his best friend, according to Lisa.
And if Ryan had figured that out, so had Micah, smart as he was. That meant Micah was under even more pressure because the Salamanders weren’t unique to him anymore. Ryan didn’t even know what he was going to do now. Micah was suddenly unpredictable. That was just fucking great.
“Yes,” Ryan lied through his teeth. “Madin.”
“Stand still,” the man said and cast, “[Wayfarer’s Blessing].”
[Skill — Wayfarer’s Favor obtained!]
Aha. Ryan had to control himself to not run off through the portal straight away. “Thank you. Can I go now?”
“Of course. Good luck in your endeavors.”
“Right.”
Ryan filled his mind with images of the Wolves’ Den and stepped through the silver light. Thankfully, he got where he wanted to be and immediately lost the Skill that had just been given him. He took one look around and sprinted off in search of Micah.
As he did, he howls hounded him from the distance and Ryan scowled. Not because of them. He … had a plan about what he was going to do for his own grade and it involved them. It was a passing fancy, really. A childish dream.
Prove yourself, they had said and laid the first three floors bare, expecting them to bring something back from so many options. Ryan could fight anything beneath the fourth floor. He could bring back anything if he had the time, as could others, guessing by the conversation he had overheard. Meaning, really, what he had to offer was everything. All or nothing. He would have loved to do that, too. But the feat was impossible.
The feat, yes. But the argument wasn’t, was it?
He shook the thought from his head. He had more pressing concerns. But he didn’t scowl because of the wolf that ambushed him on his next step. He scowled because of his freaking spear. It was weird running with that. He was constantly worried about poking his own eye out.
Instead, he poked out the wolf’s. Oops? Served it right for slowing him down.
When he finally reached the area with the felled trees and the crack in the wall, Ryan was out of breath and had a slash on one arm where he had tried to treat his spear like a sword and a wolf had slipped through his guard. In exchange, he had two of their crystals. All that he needed from here.
He strained his ears towards the forest one last time to make sure Micah wasn’t elsewhere on this floor and headed straight for the stairs. There, he heard grunting and paused in front of its top step.
A dark, hunchback figure was slowly making its way up the stairs. It was dragging something behind it, too, that cracked against each new step. Ryan’s imagination filled the blanks of what that was. A club, maybe? Had a monster climbed up from the lower floors? But what kind and from where?
Barely a week of training kicked in and Ryan flung his arm out, willing a trickle of mana into his wristband. A tiny firefly of light shot out and towards the shape. It fizzled out in just a second, but Ryan saw what he needed to.
Surprisingly, a familiar voice shot out from the hunchback and it stumbled back a few steps to get away from the light. “Gak!”
“Micah?!”
“... Ryan?” Micah asked. “Hey, did you just throw a ball of light at me? Oh, did you figure out how to use your wristband? That’s awesome!”
Ryan dribbled down the steps to meet him halfway and immediately helped Micah with his luggage. He had a large and heavy sack in his one arm that had covered his orange wristband and lighter treasure chest in the other, but no backpack.
Had he put it in the chest?
“Ugh, what is in this thing?” Ryan asked as he lifted the heavier of the two. He asked it with mirth, though. Micah was alive. He had found a treasure chest, and guessing by how the sack weighed in his hands, Ryan guessed it was filled with half a dozen fully-formed Teacup Salamanders. This was bound to get Micah a good grade, even if others brought back similar things.
“Uhm … “ Micah said, heaving as he followed behind him and they got closer to the light of the forest. “It’s kind of a long story.”
Something in the sack shifted and Ryan wondered if Micah had forgotten to properly kill all the Teacup Salamanders.
“I caught a Kobold.”
Ryan set the sack down and paused. Here, in the light of the forest, he could finally get a proper look at Micah.
One of his gloves was missing. His left pants leg had scorch marks running up and was cut off below the knee, the skin underneath looked scraped and bloody. He had a dozen scratches along his face, more on the right side for some reason, and some scabs that were pink and dirty. His right ear was bloody. His entire clothes were disheveled. Blood ran down his right arm from an already healed wound. His pants had a few more holes in them along both sides. His boots look rough. Some spots of his armor were dented. One spot looked scorched. He was breathing heavily and covered in a thick sheen of sweat and grime.
And when he smiled cheekily at what he had just said, he revealed bloody teeth. He smiled anyway.
What the hell had happened to him?
“That’s right,” Micah said and grinned a little wider. “A Kobold!”
The answer was below him, apparently.
Ryan bent down and opened up the sack at his feet. The bound and gagged monster inside looked like someone had taken the scales of a Teacup Salamander, a lizard, and a small humanoid figure and mashed them into one being. It was probably as tall as Micah and wore thin clothing.
It looked at him with murder in its eyes and was pretty disheveled itself.
A Kobold. But none that Ryan recognized. He looked back up at the bloody and haggard Micah and asked, “What?”
Micah told him a quick story about how he had “circled around” the collapse of the Salamander’s Den to head further in North and found it, then briefly fought, bound, and packed it up as he ran away from a reinforcement horde of Salamanders summoned by a “soap-bubble” that made “glug.”
Ryan told him to not write that way on his report later.
“I know, I know. I’m going to bring it back and make a map and a report of what it can do. I fought it for a while, so I’m pretty sure I know a lot of the spells that it can use. Or at least, I can describe them. I also got its stuff and some other things. Oh, and a bunch of fire crystals,” he said. “But I’m not done yet. I need to make sure it stays alive outside long enough so I can show it off. So I need your help, Ryan.”
“My help?”
Ryan’s mind was still reeling. Micah wasn’t just alive, he had captured a living Kobold and dragged it all the way up here while Salamanders hounded him. It seemed like it wasn’t just wolves he was good at killing anymore.
“You were here before, right? You climbed up from the third floor Wolves’ Den to save me? Do you know if it has any branches leading to, uhm, the Tunnel Spiders, Fields, or— No, wait. I need the Open Sewers.”
Still, he needed Ryan’s help so Ryan said, “Let me think …”
“Think fast, please. I’m kind of in a hurry.”
Ryan nodded and shoved aside all other thoughts for a moment. He thought back to the time he had come here with Gardener, Lisa, Gus, and his two students before they had rescued Micah. Had they encountered any branches off from the Wolves’ Den on their way up? That kid Ryan had run with had almost fallen into a rabbit hole in front of a tree once, hadn’t he?
Yes, but Ryan didn’t know where that rabbit hole led. He knew the areas that didn’t have a connection, though, and pointed Micah in the right direction, telling him everything he knew about the third floor Wolves’ Den.
“You aren’t coming?”
Ryan shook his head. “No.”
Somewhere along the way of the last five minutes, Ryan had made a decision. He had been so worried about Micah ending up dead in a ditch somewhere, of completely failing the exam, that he hadn't even believed in him to do this exam on his own. The truth was, if Micah walked out of here with a new type of Kobold, he was going to ace it. And even without the Kobold, deep down, Ryan knew Micah would have done well. He just … needed to have faith in him. It was okay to worry about Micah, he told himself. Of course, it was. Anything could happen in the Tower. But only to a certain extent.
Micah was going to become a climber. And a good one at that. So, the only thing Ryan had to focus on right now was acing this exam himself, like he did with every other one. Prove yourself, Ms. Denner had said. Now, Ryan was going to do just that.
He had a plan.
During daytime, there were forty different types of monsters within the first three miles of the first three floors of the Tower of Hadica that dropped crystals. However, hanging out with Lisa and Micah these last few months, Ryan had learned there were only thirty-four different types of crystals in that same group.
Bringing back everything, every chest, monster, crystal, and material found on the first three floors was impossible. But their crystals as a symbolic representation of his capabilities? Ryan still had the better part of five hours left and already one crystal down. If he wanted to make this work, he would have to hurry. It was time to find out just how much [Lesser Endurance] could help him.
So he said, “I’m actually in kind of hurry myself. I only wanted to check on you. Now, I’m headed for the Dripping Teeth. Mave marked two connections from there and I can reach those much quicker than I can reach the third floor.”
“Oh. Okay?”
“Actually, I need your help, too, Micah,” Ryan added. “I need two fire crystals from you.”
The Salamanders Den had been pretty barren last time. He didn’t want to risk having to search for a Teacup Salamander and this way was quicker. He would just be able to run on through.
“Of course,” Micah said without question and smiled again. “I’ll call it a ‘trade for information’ in my report or something. That’ll be bound to get me some bonus points with the strategists and team players among them.”
“Good idea,” Ryan said as he pocketed the two crystals. Two down. Thirty-two more to go.
“Well, then, good luck,” Micah said. “See you in five hours. I promise I’ll be safe … ish.”
Ryan smiled. “I know you will. Good luck, Micah,” he said and stepped away. There was no way in hell this was going to work, but he was going to try anyway. He could afford to, since he’d done so well on the first two exams. What could he bring back? An argument: Anything.
“See you in five hours.”
They parted ways and sprinted.
… Well, Ryan sprinted. Micah lugged the sack with the Kobold behind him with shambling steps, a heavy groan, and muttered curses. Ryan smiled to himself. The wolves wouldn’t know what hit them.
----------------------------------------
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Micah shouted as he gutted one wolf, pushed it aside, cut the heels of another, and threw himself at the third, tackling it away from the sack. He sunk the knife in its throat over and over and shouted at the dead and dying, “Aren’t you allies?”
Micah had thought he could just leave the Kobold tied up on the ground when he encountered wolves. He would climb up a tree, shoot at them, they would leave, he would run on dragging that heavy sack behind him. Perfect plan.
But then … the wolves had attacked the defenseless Kobold, digging through the closed sack with their snouts and trying to bite it. Freaking wolves. Micah had had to throw himself off the tree at them and defend his captive. He killed one and collected its crystal and left the other two behind to bleed out as a warning.
Then he heaved the sack along with another groan. He was beginning to suspect the Kobold he had captured either lifted weights or had a sweets eating problem. Guessing by its weak stab earlier, it was probably the latter. He would, of course, still leave it lying on the ground for wolves. It served as excellent bait and it was way too heavy to carry up, sweets or no. He’d have to rig up a pulley system or something to get it up.
And besides, his back and chest already felt wrong. First from the explosion, then from dragging the Kobold around for an hour. He was going to lie in his bedroll all day tomorrow, he knew. With a bag of ice, noodle soup with eggs stirred in, crackers, and some tea while Ryan complained about his wounds …
If he ever made it out of here.
Thankfully, he found the stairs soon enough. Its steps really weren’t that many, but they seemed to stretch out into the distance as he looked down them. The sight was daunting. Micah briefly considered tossing the Kobold down like a sack of dirty laundry. But of course, he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t allow it to be wounded ... too much.
So he groaned as he lifted it up on his back again and complained, “I hate you.” He was used to scrubbing things all day long, carrying out the trash, and moving around old bathtubs from one room to another, not carrying limp bodies for a few miles on end while he defended one monster from another type of monster. Why couldn’t the Kobold have just walked on its own? But no, it had to tackle him and flick a shower of sparks at his face as it tried to flee.
At least, now he knew they could also cast [Sparks]. Was that worth it? Maybe. Probably not.
“I hate you so, so much.”
After it had summoned those reinforcements, Micah had decided talking to it, if only to curse at it, was not only in order again, it was a necessity. He had to vent his frustrations somewhere. He chatted at other monsters, too, after all, and he was tired. He was swaying as he walked, threatening to bump the Kobold into the walls. He needed to talk to distract himself.
The Kobold writhed against its restraints. It probably would have snarled at him if it could.
Micah “accidently” bumped it against the wall to get it to shut up.
----------------------------------------
Ryan hunted after a tiny man made of wax as it scrambled away from him and dodged his strikes. It had witnessed him slaughter the Teeth Crawlers and shrug off its feeble [Sparks] cantrip and decided to flee. And oh, did it flee. It hid behind stalagmites, threw itself out of the way, and vaulted over stones. He suspected it was leading him into a trap, but the only thing Ryan was frustrated about was that his spear wouldn’t go where he wanted it to.
Just— Stab! he thought.
Finally, he speared it through the chest and it puffed into smoke. He snatched up its crystal and took half a second to remember the map Mave had made, then turned around and ran. Luckily, he had found Cataracts in a dark corner in this floor already. With the Teeth Crawlers, that made three. Twenty-nine to go.
He ran into a glowing tunnel filled with mushrooms that wanted to bite his ears off and looked away when an Eye Slug made its slow crawl past, blindly stabbing in its direction so he wouldn’t get stuck hallucinating about kaleidoscopes.
Both crystals collected, he simply ran through the glowing tunnels and ignored everything inside it, covering the one side of his head with his shield to block out sight and nibbling shrooms.
Twenty-seven left and his wristband was still glowing white. It was good time and only worked because he had a map, but … he was starting to think maybe this would work after all.
----------------------------------------
“Here, froggy, froggy,” Micah said as he held his helmet out in front of himself with both hands. He held the open end towards him enemy, like a bucket, with a slight tilt upward so nothing would spill out.
“Here, froggy, froggy.”
He had poked, prodded, taunted, run from, shot at, and chased this same Archertoad for the last ten minutes and he was exhausted by the effort it required. Whenever it spat at him, Micah would … attempt to block its shot with his helmet, collecting ever more gollops of sticky spit. He had failed to block three times already, so it wasn’t a fool-proof plan.
But he had figured he could either kill the Archertoad and cut it up into parts, look for whatever gland produced its sticky qualities and squeeze it dry of all it was worth, possibly messing up along the way or ruining the mixture … or he could just let it do the mixing and producing itself.
Why kill it when he could use it? Or more importantly: Why kill it when Micah could save himself a lot of trouble that he would really rather not have to do himself? Just—it was spitting less and less.
Micah had already had to fend off two other Archertoads as they’d tried to eat the Kobold he’d left tied-up in the tunnel behind him, along with the treasure chest and his backpack.
Monsters from different floors apparently really didn’t like one another. They almost seemed to want to kill the Kobold more than they wanted to kill Micah. Who would have guessed?
He glanced back to make sure his captive was safe, then down at his helmet, and back again, measuring with his eyes and Skills. Was this enough?
Maybe, said [Personalized Alchemy].
Definitely not, said [Winter Cleaning].
Why not? offered [Savagery]. It’ll suffer a little as it dies slowly.
Huh. Good to know.
Was it a clear sign of overexhaustion when he started talking to his own Skills? Yes. It definitely was. Two of them probably weren’t even guidance Skills and shouldn’t be speaking in the first place. Micah desperately needed a break and something to drink, but he didn’t have time to rest and he was out of water.
Plus, rest was for the people who had already aced their entrance exams. His wristband had been glowing red ever since he stepped into this floor, so he needed to follow the advice of the voices in his head.
When he was sure the Archertoad was out of spit, Micah carefully set the helmet aside and drew his dagger instead.
“Here, froggy, froggy,” he said as he approached. “Here, froggy, froggy.”
----------------------------------------
Ryan ran along dark tunnels spotted with glowing blue dust and forced his burning lungs to keep on pumping, his aching muscles to keep on going, and himself from looking back.
A horde of Ink Golems chased after him thirty feet back. As he rounded corners, he caught glimpses of some of them melting together into bigger, more grotesque shapes. Gone were the spiders. They formed blobs of a thousand arachnid legs, reaching, human arms and bulging tumors that looked like wolf’s mouths or tentacles from the sea, instead.
He had not known Ink Golems could fuse that on the second floor already.
Ryan had just killed two of them and run, ignoring the ones he passed, but he hadn’t found an exit for too long. This was the consequence. And he knew, he was in danger. If that mass caught up to him, it could drown him like a flash flood. It would probably drown anyone.
So when Ryan turned around corner and saw another guy with a red wristband running towards him, his eyes went wide and he waved frantically, screaming, “BACK! BACK! TURN BACK! I’VE GOT A HORDE BEHIND ME!”
The other guy’s eyes were wide and desperate as he yelled, “ME, TOO!”
Oh, no.
One horde he could outrun. Two? And even if he made it through, would the other guy be able to keep up with him? Ryan couldn’t see any weapons in his hands. As he got closer, he caught his breath and snapped, “How many?”
“What?”
“How many are behind you? Didn’t you count?”
“No. Yes. I mean, there’s twenty-ish, I think.”
Ryan nodded and dragged him along as they met up in the middle of the tunnel, towards the way he had come from. “We’re taking on yours. Mine has twenty-six and they’re fusing.”
“Fusing?”
“Don’t you have any weapons? Are you a [Mage]?”
“Uhm, sort of. I have one big spell and, I guess, a cantrip. Nothing in between.”
“Save it for last. Here, take my shield. Keep your mouth covered at all costs and stick close to me. We’ll forge a way through. Don’t stop moving. I’ll protect you. Jump over the first few. On the other side, we hit them with what you got and run. Got it?”
He looked like he did not get it, but nodded anyway. The first of the Ink Golems reached them and Ryan lept over them a third way into their midst. But the guy didn't. He hadn’t even put the shield on yet and he was not sticking close and not moving. Ryan turned around to wrap an arm around him to drag him along. He killed the first spider before it touched either of them.
Thankfully, the guy seemed to get it then because he stuck close. Not that it improved how well he fought. Another jumped at him and he missed when he tried to hit it. With a shield. It landed on his head and he shouted in surprise. So much for keeping his mouth shut.
Ryan punched a hand into the spider and groped around for its crystals, yanked it out, and tossed it aside.
The guy coughed and said, “Thanks.”
“Just keep moving. I’ll protect you.”
Thankfully, he did better from then on out. Much better. And Ryan did, too. All day, he had struggled with his spear. All day, he had hated it. Why couldn’t it move the way he wanted it to? Despite walking its forms for the last few weeks and training with Gardener, there was just something different about actually fighting with it. He was too used to the sword. Why did spears have to be cheaper, anyway?
Ryan knew he was just venting his anger at it today. Spears were just as good a weapon as a sword. Better, in many cases.
But now, those doubts disappeared. There was no room for them. His monstrous horde still approached and they were rushing through another that lept at them from all sides. If they met or made a single mistake, they would be dead.
So he sheared off legs of spiders falling past them and deflected ones from attacking the guy next to him. He spun his spear to the flat of the tip and smacked another into a puddle. He speared a third, wrenched another off his own back, kicked another that was weighing the other down.
For a few moments, it was all so easy. Ryan had a weapon in hand, an enemy to face, and someone to protect, the caverns lit by the shifting red light of their wristbands and the blue specs in the ground. He had a purpose, like out of a story book. All he had to do was keep the spiders off him and so he did just that.
But of course, it wasn’t a real purpose. It wouldn’t last. Even when they made it past the mass of Ink Golems and ran a few steps, that other massive blob of ink came hurtling through the tunnel towards them, absorbing tiny spiders along the way and catching up too quickly.
Once he saw it, the other cried out in alarm and stumbled. Ryan tried to drag him up and behind him, get to him to run, but he wrenched himself free instead, knocking Ryan’s spear out of his hand, and shouted, “Stand back. Don’t look. Don’t look!”
Before Ryan could ask him what the hell he was talking about, he slipped something out of the pocket of a smith’s apron. He pointed and there was light. Blinding, crackling light that scorched Ryan’s eyes and forced him to shut them and look away.
Things hissed and sizzled behind him. Something screamed like a thousand humming bees.
Ryan had glimpsed them, however. Hundreds of roots of energy arcing down the tunnel, arcing towards that fiend and every single tiny spider made of ink behind them, making a storm of—
Lightning.
And then it was over. Everything was still and nothing was chasing them anymore. When Ryan opened his eyes, shifting roots were still burnt onto his sight. Everything was blurry beyond them. He tried to move, but he was trembling and struck on trying to rub those lines out of his eyes.
Slowly, he managed to stand up straight despite them and looked back. The roots weren’t just in his eyesight. Black copies of them had burnt themselves into the floor, the wall, the ceiling, still glowing like embers. Over fifty inky crystals lay scattered on the ground.
A tiny arc of lightning passed between the tip of his spear and the ground like from hand to doorknob, and Ryan decided not to pick it up just yet.
Belatedly, he realized he hadn’t heard the guy cast a spell. That meant whatever that was—and it definitely wasn’t a mere [Lightning Bolt] spell—it must have come from his Path.
And while he could barely see, Ryan finally got a look at him as he stood there, throwing up on the ground while he braced himself against his knees. He immediately tried to shut off his nose.
He looked pale, but that might have come from what he was doing right now. He had shaggy, light brown hair and looked completely unprepared to be in the Tower. His padded clothing was home-stitched and was coming apart in some places, his boots were one size too big, his pants were torn in some places, and he wore what looked like a heavy smith’s apron that he had tied behind his back.
He didn’t even have a weapon.
Ryan’s eyes shifted to the wand in his left hand and corrected that statement. He had a that, after all. It wasn’t even really a wand. It was just a long twig that looked like it had been snapped fresh from a branch. It even had two light green leafs growing on it. Lightning arced between them and its stubs. The leafs seemed unconcerned.
Not a wand, then. A relic? It had to be.
If the guy had to stitch his own clothes, why was he running around with a relic? Had he found and refused to sell it?
As he wondered about that, Ryan absent-mindedly stepped up and rubbed his back as he puked. It wasn’t even really a conscious decision. But when he did, he saw the guy’s other hand and stiffened.
His sleeve was gone. So was his wristband. Ryan spotted its red glow lying on the ground nearby, along with his shield. It must have survived whatever had done that to the guy’s hand. Those same roots that scarred the tunnel and Ryan’s eyesight had dug up to his wrist and laid his flesh bare. It looked swollen and angry, like bad bruises in some places. No wonder he was puking.
What was worse, was that he glimpsed scars that looked similar in other places. He had done this before.
“Do you still have your healing potion or do you need mine?” Ryan asked.
The guy wiped his mouth and mumbled, “What?”
Ryan went to fetch his own shield and the guy’s wristband for him and repeated, “I said, do you still have your healing potion or do you need mine?”
“No. No, I … I still have mine.” He slowly stood up. His right arm twitched. He looked confused for a moment and then used his left to put the twig away and search around in his pockets.
He brought out the metal flask and Ryan held his arm up by the elbow so he could pour it on. The wound was already healing, but he was spilling the potion too liberally. He was wasting half of it.
“Easy, there,” Ryan told him. “Do it slowly. Pour. Let it heal. Pour some more. Drink some, too. Just a sip. It’ll help with the pain. This is good stuff they gave us.”
He nodded and did as he was told, then mumbled, “Thanks.”
Ryan held out his wristband for him. “Here.”
“What?”
“You’re probably going to need to find your way out of here.”
The guy slowly put his flask away, but still didn’t take it. He looked at Ryan with a weird expression on his face.
So Ryan nudged the wristband forward again. “Take it. It’s yours. I don’t mean to be rude, but I have to go. I’m in a hurry. You can find your way out on your own, right? You don’t have so long anymore.”
He nodded at the red light.
Finally, the other guy took it. He seemed to catch on something else, though, because his eyes went wide as he gestured back. “What about the crystals? Don’t you want, uhm, half?”
Ryan shrugged and stepped away. “They’re yours. I already have what I need from here.”
He still had nine crystals left to get and his own wristband had been glowing orange for quite some time. Micah was probably already out of the Tower by now. Ryan really needed to hurry up. Thankfully, he had his breeze potion with him, because he had a feeling he was going to need Saplings to fight half of the monsters still left on his list. Stone boars, the humanoid Treants he could face, fishes living in lakes and rivers. They would take too long to kill with a simple spear.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah.” The guy frowned. “Alright. Thank you.”
Ryan nodded and jogged away. He was almost at the corner when he heard the guy call, “I owe you one!”
Ryan froze and wanted to frown, but found himself laughing instead. What was the guy on about? He turned on him. “No, you don’t. You just saved our lives!”
“Not that. You saved my life, too. For that, we’re even. I mean for everything else.” He gestured back at the fifty crystals with his wristband and looked immensely grateful.
Ryan remembered his self-stitched clothes and lack of weaponry. He was almost out of time and he didn’t see him carrying a sack of crystals around. What had he been doing these last few hours?
“I owe you one,” he repeated.
Owe you one. Ryan only managed a soft frown. What the hell, he told himself and called, “Sure! I’ll keep you to it!”
“I’m good for it!” he said with perfect earnesty. Beyond the puke, he smelled like metal and leather. Maybe he really had made his clothes himself. “I promise!”
“Just get out of here safely,” Ryan said. A smile came to his lips as he rounded the corner. It immediately shifted to a scowl and Ryan shook the thought from his mind, mumbling, “Whatever.”
Then he ran again.
Three bends and two dead Ink Golems later, he spotted a light in the distance and sprinted towards it. When he did, though, Ryan thought the glimpsed something out of the corner of his eye. A small flame, like the burning wick of a candle that he had passed. He skid to a halt and weighed his options for a split second, uncertain. In the end, a part of him just couldn’t let it go.
Ryan wrenched himself around, renewed his scowl, and chased after it. He would just have to hurry.
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Micah sat in front of a portal out of the Open Sewers and slathered a glue-covered hand over the Kobold’s face. It grimaced and tried to turn away, glaring at him like it wanted to snap his hand clean off. But Micah had tied its … snout? Was it a snout? Eh, he’d call it a snout. Whatever it was, he had tied it shut.
As he sat there, cross-legged in front of it, he felt a little like a kid doing arts and crafts. Well, either that or someone giving a stray animal a bath, because the Kobold kept turning its head away from him like a baby that didn’t want to eat. And because they were sitting half-submerged in water, Micah guessed.
When the Kobold turned its face the other way, he grumbled, “Yeah, yeah. I don’t want to do this either, you know? You feel weird. Do you know how scales feel to someone who had naked skin? Weird, okay?”
It gurgled something. It almost sounded offended.
“Not that weird is a bad thing,” Micah amended his statement.
It gurgled something else.
“I hear you. I do.”
Micah’s right hand was covered in a mixture of water, sticky spit, his leftover glue ammunition, and some fire crystals. It smelled much worse than it had any right to smell. Almost like rotten eggs. With his other hand, he sprinkled some fire dust over areas he had slathered already to make them dry quicker.
His wristband had stopped glowing a few minutes ago. He had to hurry.
When he was done with slathering most of the Kobold’s still-clothed body—what if it did have something to be modest about? Micah wasn’t about to risk it—he scraped his hand clean in the water and carefully untied the ropes around its snout. Micah had been right. It immediately snapped at him, but he'd been expecting that.
He forced his armored wrist through and down its snout when it missed. It gagged, but he used half his arm and his gloved hand to keep its mouth open. Then he slowly poured all of his fire and flesh essence infused healing potion down its throat while it tried to turn its head away from him.
Micah had made it with own middle-grade healing potion, the one made with Perspit leaves. It was less refined and less attuned the human body, so it should have an easier time healing the monstrous Kobold, in case it was fully-formed.
Plus, Micah had used all of his other healing potion already to fix himself up a little, despite wanting to study it. He couldn’t go out there covered in wounds and the amount of blood he had been losing from his elbow had been worrying.
[Savagery] told him the fire essence in the potion would only feel like swallowing hot food fresh from the stove without blowing on it, since Micah hadn’t been able to infuse the potion with a lot of fire essence without damaging its pattern.
Still, a part of him hoped the Kobold really didn’t feel pain because that was bound to be uncomfortable. More uncomfortable than its treatment already had been, he meant. But he needed some way to infuse it with its crystal's essence. He wasn’t even sure that its crystal was a fire one, but he hoped it was close enough. What else would it have?
Plus, he needed to heal the minor injuries it had collected on the journey here, from rough handling—completely unintentional, cross his heart—the occasional monster nibble, and Micah beating and kicking it a few hours ago during their fight.
He retied the ropes, lifted the Kobold with a groan into the treasure chest, and had a sudden worry. “Wait, you aren’t going to run out of breathing air if I keep you in there for half an hour, right?”
It glared at him, like it had been doing all day. Micah liked to think that glare had withered a little during the last hour or so, ever since its third escape attempt had failed and they’d killed some rats together. They made a good team, bludgeon stuff next to one another.
Micah eyed it, considering holding its nose shut to count how long it could hold its breath, and decided he didn’t have the time to waste. He was just going to have to hope this worked.
So he shoved and squeezed a little more until it fit, dumped his remaining fire crystals in for good measure, and said, “See you soon.” Then he slammed the lid shut and reached into his backpack for more of the mixture that he had made and slathered the crack between lid and main body.
He was pretty sure his backpack was ruined. He'd had to make the glue somewhere and it just so happened to be waterproof. Micah wasn’t entirely sure he was going to be able to wash the stains out of it, not to mention fix the damage from the fighting.
But that was a thought for tomorrow, when he would worry about money again. Now, he sprinkled some more fire crystal dust over the seal that he was making and worried about the exam.
He had no doubt that this was the crudest and most forceful way to keep a monster alive outside the Tower. He was literally forcing its form to stay in place and keeping its essence from dissipating. It wouldn’t last long, but it was the only option Micah could think of. The only option he had with three hours time to make anything. If he'd had more time, he might have hunted for other Kobolds to get their crystals and use them, instead of fire and flesh. But this was all he had.
When he finished the seal, Micah scratched his hand clean again and took a deep breath. He forced himself up, immediately crouched again, and used some of the icky Open Sewers water to wash up his face and arms. He tidied up his hair and clothes a little and put on his backpack. Then he picked up the now much heavier chest with an almighty heave and walked through the silver portal into daylight.