They'd followed him to the orchard, but that was as far as she could make Minst go after the incident yesterday, before he set down the beaker urn, carefully aiming the spout so his big sister could still see out a little, despite the top cork symbolically trapping her inside.
They'd just seen the strange fellow—the one who showed up out of nowhere yesterday, riding on Billy—go right back into the orchard full of hairy, hungry spiders all on his own. Just a day after he splattered a few of 'em, but then got sent scurrying. So, we wanted to spy his business, just because.
That's pretty dapper.
Blåberry was in big trouble. She'd endangered the life of her beloved little brother, challenging him to one of their notorious dares at precisely the wrong moment. But at least they had gotten to see some of what this new stranger could do. "Worth it."
A few moments of awkward silence passed.
"What!? It was! Everything worked out!"
Minst was standing to the side of the urn, where the spout wouldn't let her see, yet Berry could tell Minst was shaking his head.
...
"Bah. No need to be pretend-miffed like the adults and act like you're not happy too, leveling and being back on track," She sniffed, making a little echo.
It was only the two of them, which might have seemed foolhardy to tribes not familiar with the area. They were alone an hour out from the village after all, having suffered an attack just yesterday. But it was well known what predators lurked in this region, and if some outside danger were to appear, they would be at just as great a risk fifteen minutes from the village as they would be here. And you couldn't keep a young goblin trapped at home, not past the age of three anyway. And who was gonna stay put to do the trapping in the first place? Not no goblin, that much was certain.
So, they had free range to be kids, and if they were to be foolish enough to pull another stunt like yesterday, now that they were unsupervised, then there was no saving such children lilyway. Better to save yourself some time and effort and spend it making new ones instead. Life was stressful enough as is, after all, without adding on to it.
What happens, happens. We can't forget to enjoy the ride. Blåberry had taught him that herself, and Minst agreed. Things had worked out so far, lilyways. He was only turning 12 years old, having already reached level 24 after the events of yesterday, right on track to becoming a goblin legend—just like his sister.
While she was two years older, and level 24 as well, that didn't change how she was still so, so far ahead in her Class cultivation. Everyone knew she told the truth when saying she was on the brink of finding her third Dao Vein, she only needed to keep her mind mining a little deeper. Minst was certain she would be shooting out like a rocket, once she finally pushed past her first bottleneck.
The reason she was now trapped inside the beaker urn was because that was her interim punishment, while their elders figured out her true penance. In most tribes such a punishment may have implied she should stay put where they placed it—but the punishment was being put in the urn and having to stay there, they wouldn't be so cruel as to also rob her of the services of her own little brother. That was really a step too cruel, even after having endangered said brother's life.
For the 9th time.
That they knew about.
It might have sounded like she was trying to get him killed, to certain folks, in certain tribes. But nothing could be further from the truth. She simply believed in his ability wholeheartedly, and was fully aware of how no genius warlord had ever reached their potential in hiding. To this day, Blåberry had never put him up to a challenge she didn't truly think he was ready for. How was it her fault that Minst liked to push things even further?
She smiled fondly. Fearless little psycho.
Sure, he'd gotten some scars over the years. But that was how you learned. That was how she had learned—everyone knew that much. And Minst hadn't gotten a single new scar due to the incident yesterday… admittedly in large part due to the efforts of this Damon guy.
And here he came now, hauling ass for dear life clutched onto Billy; the two of them evading a clearly battered pack of spiders. They watched them reach the sunlight and then collapse in a heap, but it sure looked like they'd done it. The two were certainly busy enough celebrating—and supposedly dealing with new levels—too busy to notice the two goblin children watching from afar in wondrous fascination.
Blåberry figured that would be the end of it, and that Damon would simply be too shaky to go for another round in the same day. You didn't take on 20 opponents at once, willingly, without being in tip top shape after all. Not if you knew what was good for you, even if you had the edge in levels.
Oh. Oh, boy. She was swiftly proven wrong, and her heart fluttered. Damon got up and spoke to Billy, then stretched, then went straight back in for another round.
A fellow after me own heart.
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The young goblins had expected the warriors to come back out within the hour, just like last time. Instead they nervously waited for over six, only to finally spot a blood-covered, deformed and six-legged joining of two creatures; leaning on each other and hobbling their way out, right towards them. They were moving slower and slower, as the two watching children went from fearful to horrified on behalf of their friends.
Minst carried his sister forward, and the two walking corpses came right up to the urn, but it appeared to be mere chance; neither of the two had even noticed the goblins.
"Minst, go! I'll be fine," Echoed the voice in the urn, though her voice sounded unusually worried.
The young goblin pulled the white cap down over his ears and took off, short little legs pumping—as the two fighters collapsed in an unconscious, still bleeding heap—having finally reached the safety of the sunlight.
Damon had a severed tarantula's head still attached to his calf by both fangs. While both forearms, shoulders and even his ribs were disgustingly lacerated—with Blåberry able to see his exposed, blood-covered bones peeking out through the broken skin in too many places to count—it made it so every wound appeared to still be bleeding. It was a true miracle the man was even alive; and Billy barely looked better, dark blood coating his white mane—although the proud beast had still been working hard to support his rider, until the very end. Don't die on me you tall twat, not so soon, damnit. I didn't yet get to climb you.
Blåberry was worried to bits, even feeling an ounce of guilt.
Yet she didn't leave her urn.
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When Damon stirred he was still trapped in the dark, and he’d almost kicked himself out of bed. His first thought was that he was back in the tunnel, surrounded by skittering. When he actually opened his eyes and pulled down the covers, it was to the sight of sunlight peeking in through the entryway of a goblin hut, the sound of frogs croaking in the pond outside. His tense body relaxed all at once, and he found he was surprised by how little pain his reflexive movements had caused. Don’t get me wrong. Ouch.
But Damon couldn’t even see any blood from broken stitches beneath the makeshift bandages. Thinking back, he found he was glad to at least recall how they'd made it out of there, even if it wasn't pretty. He'd have expected the blood loss to make it all a blur, but his brain seemed to have somehow managed to hold on to all the important bits.
Once he had realized the true threat, Damon had done what any sane frontier scout should; turned around to flee and make his report. He’d briefly considered going for an attack on the tree at first, before looking down at his puny steel daggers, the enemies unknown triple digit levels, back to his puny daggers, and the enemies formidable wooden form, and positioning… and levels. Something in this fight's adding isn’t adding.
So, he'd finally backed up and started returning to the darker tunnel, where he’d come upon a scene of Billy zig-zagging and making his escape away from the majority of the spider cluster, with only a gang of 40 particularly large [Cat’s Paw Tarantulas] still between them, with one pack in particular clearly left behind to plug the tunnel and keep Damon from coming to his aid. He’d realized then that these spiders were mere pawns, used to lure them in here, where nobody was ever likely to escape. He’d started doubting if the spiders were even alive, or if he was fighting the same versions all over and over again. At some point he’d stopped leveling—having only reached 30, he’d started getting a gut feeling that the kills were doing nothing for him any more beyond that—but at least he’d finally reached what felt in his mind like level 10.
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The massive Strength boost had ensured his skin had been getting tougher and tougher to break, while his tender and sore ligaments had kept getting enhanced, allowing him to utilize more and more of the potential in his empowered body as the fight wore on.
Now, the spiders ahead of him had begun moving like they suddenly had brains, dodging him and subtly positioning and jockeying to be able to all take different angles of attack, instead of the mindlessly aggressive wave of spears and fangs that hey had been behaving like thus far. Damon had felt a dam of reserve burst within at that point, having realized they’d been getting manipulated all along, subtly weakened and bled, all to serve some sinister… plant? Of all things. None of this was right. Even the goddamn trees are coming for the top spot, what kind of mess did humanity leave behind?
He’d taken a few deep breaths then, knowing he was gonna have to push through or die trying, and spend energy he didn’t even know he had left, in order to have any chance of reaching Billy and securing their way out; yet the chimera was still getting further ahead. I’ll never catch up if I have to constantly kill my way past these hairy fuckers one by one.
Yet there was no other choice left to make, so Damon still charged after his friend, still hearing the desperate bleats in the distance, as the proud chimera slowly tired and found it harder and harder to keep ahead. There were no better options left. But then hope reignited—as Damon leapt in, caving in that first hairy face—then stabbed its buddy in the knee when it tried to spear him from the side, before shoving its own decapitated limb through all eight of its eyes.
[Class Quest completed: Unexpected Stab - Progress - (250/250).]
[Dao Class Skill unlocked. A new angle for striking can always be found, if used sparingly it may turn the tide of any battle. Details: *********** ******* * **** **** * ******* ********** ** **** ****.]
[Unleash devastation upon thine enemies. Push until they yield their very selves.]
Damon remembered how the System voice had suddenly sounded like a strange, new third personality, one that could not wait to see blood be spilled. It was like she was suddenly personally watching, but not in the way she always had before, when it rewarded levels. Before, she had been in total control.
Even then, Damon was in too much danger at the time to care one whit, he didn't even bother reading the text, he could already feel the things it told him within.
When the Skill unlocked he’d felt a surge ten times as strong as when he leveled, he'd felt pure potential bursting from within, like his aggression was chained up for as long as he refused to wield it; but if he would but will it to, [Unexpected Stab] would indeed unleash devastation.
The next spider he ran up on tried to keep him busy for its mates even at the cost of its own life, spearing him with both its forelegs and making sure to occupy his full attention from the front as he got surrounded; only when Damon's daggers parried both spearing legs—pinning them in the air, and struggling hard to keep them contained—was a third ghostly arm suddenly released from his own, blue flames traveling up his pec and shoulders towards the arm holding the stabbed limb at bay, currently busy gripping the dagger tightly. Damon stared at the ethereal flames along the limb in shock as they finished the journey and slid into place over his own hand, only to solidify just as Damon’s real hand looked about to turn ghostly as well. The ghostly hand instead gripped the dagger and went straight through the offending spider limb like magic—allowing Damon to stab down into the creatures face with tremendous satisfaction; all as easy as if it had been too late to put its dukes up in the first place.
He moved swiftly to the next spider trying to swarm him and tried it again. Moving quite differently this time, fully prepared to take advantage. Damon surged forward and brained the beast thrice as fast as any previous kill; and the best part was how the Skill appeared fully charged again, in what felt like about five seconds. He could feel the tension building back up in his navel, ready to be unleashed again so soon that it made Damon feel giddy, having scraped by using Mana as nothing but a stamina replacement for so long.
He started stabbing any spider foolish enough to get close, their defenses utterly futile. When he’d killed half the spiders this way, for the first time since they entered, the rest of the pack showed actual hesitance—then appeared to break down. Although it wasn’t entirely true, it was really more like a regrouping, but at least it had allowed Damon to finally see what must be happening to the corpses, and to also make his way past and continue running to try and catch up with Billy.
The chimera was still staying ahead, only that couldn’t last very much longer. The spiders were slowing down, but not nearly as much as Billy, who'd been also struggling to keep in sight of Damon, but having to balance the need with the more pressing need of not letting the tarantulas catch him up.
It looked futile, and they were in the darkest portion of the tunnel, but Billy could see some light ahead. That was when they reached a portion of the tunnel with particularly rough walls, a high ceiling and an underground stream gushing down into some dark pit hidden even further below. The lion part leapt, while the goat section used its hind legs to push up the wall; successfully leaving the foolish spiders behind, letting them fail by sliding off the wet, rocky surface. Until they found a path and started climbing up the wall again, but slower moving all over each other's bodies and using them as steps to get ahead.
Still, the Chimera was safe for now, having made it all the way up the wall and onto a plateau, where he could finally catch some sorely needed breaths. That was enough for Damon to finally catch back up down below, while the spiders were still busy clumsily climbing.
Once a few minutes had passed and Damon made it close enough, Billy bleated happily in response, hopping down the safer side and joining back up with his protector at last; who’d been the one and only reason that he'd been foolish enough to head so deep underground in the first place. This isn't natural.
Yes, I hear you. They were together again at last, but at that point they’d still been stuck in the tunnels with an unlimited cluster of spiders coming for them, and no further miracles awaited. At least they had made it out of sight of that sinister tree, so the spiders had returned to acting like automatons.
Even so, the two of them had been too weakened to find the beasts easy pickings by that point, but they'd done enough to be able to keep running; with Damon remaining ready to act as the exterminator whenever the monstrous thralls massed for another attack.
By the time they exited the cavern 3 hours later, it was with all those terrible wounds; yet ultimately they’d both made it and had to proclaim it a victory.
Damon enjoyed just laying there a while, thinking over the mysterious opponent he had before him. Even back then at the orchard, Damon was pretty sure he'd managed to stay awake for long enough to be able to share his report.
“I did it. Somehow we made it all the way inside, and I found the source of the spiders, I think.”
Although he wasn’t certain how coherent he’d been. In reality it’d been closer to: “Aj Dits, Omhowee it allsideeand tih found thhheh sauce of the spyderz....... I dink.”
That pause break had been 10 minutes long.
Yeah. He had been rambling when they returned to the village, and Blåberry had reported as much as she could hear of his words, a task made stupidly difficult with being stuck inside the urn. But the Redcap still couldn’t quite believe the report, not until they heard as much out of the horse's own mouth.
Unfortunately, Damon had been out cold for three days straight, and during that time the seniors of the tribe had returned.