“That… is a giant face,” Nathen commented.
It had taken two days for him to cross the wide plains surrounding Templeholm and reach the mountain range he’d seen. There hadn’t been much to hunt, so his food supplies were starting to run low. He’d seen what he thought might be a small local village some distance to the west, which he figured would be his next stop if he couldn’t find any monsters to kill for loot. He still had a couple days before he had to make such a decision so he’d wandered into the foothills and it was there he’d found the giant face.
It appeared to be carved from a cliffside on the northern side of taller hill, gazing northward with a serious gaze, as if standing watch. It was clearly weathered yet no scrubs grew in the cracks in its surface like they did the surrounding cliffs. He figured the devs wanted the face to be seen, for whatever reason. For the moment he was trying to figure out if it was a giant golem.
“Statues always come to life,” he muttered to himself, thinking of past games where if you found a conspicuous statue, it was almost certainly a golem of some kind. But this appeared carved into the cliff face, not its own free-standing statue. Considering it was the opposite direction of the small village he’d seen, Nathen eventually decided to avoid it for the moment. No one had mentioned a giant face when talking about the sky-blade, so he assumed this was unrelated. Still, he planned to go back eventually, when his food situation was more secure. If nothing else it seemed interesting.
With that decided he continued his hike westwards along the foothills. Every time he crested a peak or ridge he’d look at the surrounding mountains, trying to spot anything that might be the vault the priest had mentioned. There weren’t many tall trees this far north, so only the rolling hills obscured his lines of sight. In the distance he’d seen some animals, a small group of deer, or something similar, but no monsters. It wasn’t until his third day exploring the foothills that he saw movement that was likely a group of monsters. At first he thought he’d been seeing things, mistaking windblown bushes for movement, but it took only a moment’s closer look to correct himself.
There were a pack of them, they moved on all four limbs but, when stationary, stood on only two, they were covered in tan or light grey fur that blended in well with the somewhat desolate landscape. Eager for a fight Nathen ensured his blade was ready to be drawn and rushed towards them. It didn’t take long before the monsters spotted him as well, and for a moment he thought they were going to turn and run. But they quickly broke into three groups. One group rushed directly for him, while the other two swept to either side to cut off his retreat. But Nathen didn’t mind, he had no intention to run away.
Getting closer he counted nearly two dozen beasts, each bore a flattened, dog-like snout and flopping ears. More surprisingly they carried small weapons, stone axes and spears in three fingered hands. Nathen had thought they’d be goblins, but closer he figured they were Kobolds in the Asian sense, where kobolds were depicted as dog like creatures, as opposed to the pseudo-draconic lizards of the west. Either way that meant they were individually weak, relying on numbers or trickery to win. The perfect monsters to push his skills.
Neither side wasted any time stopping to shout threats, the kobolds unleashing a barrage of sling stones and thrown spears that Nathen mostly avoided, only taking a few hits that did little more than bruise through his leather armor. The first few kobolds he reached clearly hadn’t been expecting him to be that fast, as they lashed out with stone-tipped spears that Nathen easily dodged around before landing several mortal wounds in return. His best tactic would be to get as many stacks of focused strikes before he was completely surrounded. To that end Nathen quickly moved from one kobold to the next, landing slashes and stabs before moving on, doing his best to avoid return attacks that would sap the bonuses he was accruing.
Oddly, by the time he’d carved through nearly half the kobolds his progress was starting to slow down, even though he was stronger and faster than ever it felt like the monsters were also growing stronger. Each kill took longer, and not just because he was having to dodge or parry attacks from other kobolds but their flesh seemed tougher, they moved quicker and were more able to avoid his own attacks.
\*\*\*\*\*
“One of the biggest issues with the Mutts is their pack tactics,” Lex explained as Gregory panted on the ground, “when you kill one they mark you with their Vitus, granting them resistance to your attacks, making you more vulnerable to theirs and making them more able to predict your movements. The marks do wear off after a few minutes if you avoid killing them so hit and run tactics are preferred, or, failing that, cycling out those fighting regularly to prevent the marks from gathering too much on one person.”
“Monsters can use Vituss?” Gregory asked, rubbing a growing bruise on his arm where Lex had struck him during their last spar.
“Of course, all soul bearing creatures can. In-fact how they use Vituss is how they are classified, Arch beasts use Vituss to directly benefit their innate abilities. Making them faster, stronger and harder to kill.”
“Like those wolves!” Gregory said.
“Right, those were Arch-wolves, their Vituss granting them increased speed and size.”
“So they were once actual wolves?”
“No one knows where monsters come from,” Lex admitted, “often the classification is their Vituss type and what they most look like. Even though those wolves had six legs and weird teeth they looked most like wolves, combined with using Vituss simply to increase their physical abilities making them Arch-wolves.”
“And you said the Mutts were, what, Were?”
“Vier,” Lex corrected, “the abilities of Vier beasts work only in groups, augmenting teamwork in often subtle ways. In this case they grow stronger against those who are bigger threats to them.”
“And because they look like dogs you call them mutts?”
“Sort of, they have dog like heads and are covered in fur, beyond that they look almost like… small people.”
“Weird, who named them?”
“No idea,” she shrugged.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“What other kinds of mosnters are there?” Gregory asked, partly out of curiosity, but also to delay his next beating- sparring session.
“Nim beasts play tricks on the mind, Zviet beasts use long ranged super-natural abilities,” she explained, “those four are the most common but there are rarer types.”
“PvE is more complex than it seems,” Gregory chuckled, pushing himself to his feet.
“PvE?” Lex cocked her head in confusion, “didn’t that other Ascender, Nathen, say something similar?”
“He said PvP, which is player versus player,” it was Gregory’s turn to explain, “it’s a term used in games where we’re from, I assume he was a gamer like me. PvE means player versus environment, basically fighting monsters rather than other people.”
“Huh,” she grunted, “not sure I understand the difference, but regardless, ready to try again?”
“Am I ever going to win a bout?” Gregory grumbled as he took a fighting stance with his training spear.
“You’re learning quickly,” she smiled, “I have years of training, yet I expect you’ll match me within a month, possibly two.”
\*\*\*\*\*
The battle was beginning to drag on, there were only a handful of kobolds left by Nathen’s count. There wasn’t anything special about them compared to the others he’d fought, no obvious leader with higher quality gear or mage with a staff empowering the rest of them. Yet it had been several minutes since he last killed one of the annoying creatures. Even without glancing at his interface he knew he was running low on stamina, he even knew his Focused Strikes would be running out soon thanks to a lack of… the fairy had called it vituss but he decided to call it mana.
There seemed to be a limit to how fast he could regenerate it, and, though the ability window hadn’t indicated it, maintaining Focus Strikes slowly drained his mana pool. At the same time, it didn’t seem to drain as fast it should, for how much energy he could feel flowing from within him into his limbs he could feel an equal amount flowing into them from the air. As if the mana surrounding him was more than willing to help out, but if that was the case why was he regenerating his internal pool so slowly?
It was only in his increasingly exhausted state that Nathen had even sensed the flow of this Vituss stuff, as he pushed himself to the limit of his abilities. As he began to sense Vituss flowing into him to augment his ability he grew annoyed, why couldn’t he just pull it in directly? It clearly surrounded him, in the air itself, and he could make use of some of it.
Still fighting, both against the Kobolds that had become unnaturally strong and moved as if they could see the future, and his own growing exhaustion, he focused on the feeling of Vituss flowing into him from outside and attempted to force it to flow faster. It was an odd feeling, like how he imagined someone who was paralyzed might feel if they regained control of their legs. It was a new feeling he had to learn to use, but it was, at the same time somehow instinctive and known.
It was only a matter of time before he messed up, and it happened sooner than he’d have thought. He misjudged a step, his foot not landing properly atop a rock but on its side and sliding down, causing him to stumble and nearly fall as he struggled to regain his balance. The kobolds didn’t waste the chance and he felt a stone axe head slam into his side, cutting through his leather armor and biting into his flesh.
Nathen lashed out with the desperation of a wounded animal, scoring a cut across his attacker’s torso and forcing it back long enough for him to gather himself, but the damage had been done. The hit had drained the last of his Focused Strikes buff, while the kobolds only seemed stronger than ever. All because he ran out of mana.
Was this it? he thought to himself, his first death? Would he respawn back in Templeholm? Or would it be a proper game over and he’d be kicked from the game entirely?
If it is, he decided, I’m going to take as many of these things down with me as possible. With a feral grin he took a new stance as his presence washed out, the kobolds that had been rushing to attack pausing as they felt it slam into them. Instinctively they knew he was more dangerous now than ever, they could feel his desperation pulling at the very air around them, energy leaking from their wounds to fuel him. It was so instinctive that Nathen barely had to read the popup.
\-\-\-\-
*NEW ABILITY:* Cornered Desperation
Most grow weaker as they are injured, you only grow stronger.
-You gain an aura draws Vituss from around you to replenish your soul, this effect grows stronger the more injured you are
-When close to death you begin to draw Vituss even from those around you, causing damage to soul-bearing creatures around you and leaching their souls for energy
\-\-\-\-
It was like his senses had exploded outwards, he could feel energy in the air and, more importantly, he could feel it flowing out of the kobolds and into him. The kobolds could clearly feel it as well, looking at one another in panic as their wounds slowly grew larger and their bodies grew weaker.
What surprised Nathen the most, however, was the amount of energy he could sense clinging to himself. It was different from the energy he was absorbing, that felt pure, untainted, while the mana clinging to him felt more like a curse. He couldn’t drain it like he could the ambient energy, so he assumed it was the result of another ability, perhaps from the kobolds. Was this how they’d managed to keep up with him? He had no idea what it did, he could only tell it was there, but that was the most likely explanation. It was likely some kind of debuff, countering his own buffs. But now that he felt his mana and stamina replenishing, he could counter it.
His grin widened moments before he charged once more.
\*\*\*\*\*
Count Rahkam hated these tavern beds, he’d insisted on the best room they had but he still could barely sleep in the lumpy mattress. He’d paid no small sum to claim this room, and this was the best they could do? He sighed, it wasn’t like they often got nobility this close to the World Wood, he reminded himself, and it was better than sleeping on the ground like when traveling. Still the least they could do would be to deal with the rats he could hear scurrying about.
With another sigh he stood to get a drink, hoping the rats went to sleep soon so he could too. Taking a sip from the pitcher on the bedside table he paused, squinting blurry eyes at the window, he’d opened the shutters to let some air in but it looked like the shutters had been removed.
He heard the floor creek beside him and, before he could react a cold blade pressed to his neck.
“Shout and all they’ll find is your bloody corpse,” a harsh voice whispered in his ear, and he hurriedly nodded. He was nearly snapped awake by the rush of adrenalin that followed, blinking away the sleep to see a half dozen figures in his room.
“You’re the Count, correct?” one of the figures said.
“Y-yes,” Rahkam stuttered, “who are you?”
Instead of answering, one of the figures struck flint, causing a small brazier to sputter to life. Using the small flame he lit a taper and from there began to light the small candles in a bowl by the door. They were dressed similarly, in dark green clothing unlike any he’d seen, and all of them carried steel weapons of clearly high quality.
“Ascenders,” he whispered, “you’re all Ascenders.”
No one said anything until all the candles were lit, at which point one man, who Rahkam assumed was the leader, approached him.
“We represent a distant party,” the man explained calmly, “one that requires access to someone with power. If you cooperate I’m certain we can come to a… mutually beneficial arrangement. If not...”
He trailed off, leaving the threat hanging. Despite that the Count knew these were the kind of men used to getting their way, and had the skills to accomplish it. They carried the air of nobility but radiated the threat of hardened warriors, it was an unusual combination he’d only encountered a couple times. Despite the weapon at his neck Rahkam felt himself smiling. This was exactly what he’d been waiting for, it was better than he’d hoped. He’d expected to eventually find a lost and confused newly arrived Ascender he could take under his wing and raise into being a new champion. Now he was face to face with six Ascenders more than willing to help him. They had their own agenda, but who didn’t?
“Mutually beneficial?” he asked, “I’m positive we’ll get along well.”