Steel clashed against chitin as Cal Run parried the serrated limb of a “big ass rolly-polly”, the sound a harsh clatter in the boiling tumult of battle. He pivoted, muscles taut, and drove his blade into the underbelly of another one nearby, dark ichor spurting from the wound. Beside him, Elena danced through the fray, her movements faster, but not stronger. She ditched her bow and arrow for her shortsword, though Cal could see arrows shoot out with swift grace every so often between marks.
"Left flank!" she shouted, voice barely rising above the cacophony of growls and screams.
Cal acknowledged with a nod, lunging to intercept a pouncing beast. Their coordination was seamless, borne of countless skirmishes and a hard-won trust.
The air reeked of sulfur and blood, a stench that seared the lungs. He missed the cinnamon of the forest. The ground beneath their feet was littered with carcasses and slick with viscera, making each step a gamble.
"Keep them off us!" Jaxon bellowed, his voice tinged with strain. He and his cervidian comrades, Jabor and Joe, were locked in combat with a towering stage-two beast. It was the leader of this pack – a centipede like creature, though likely a successor of the rolly pollies. It had a long carapace, impervious to casual blows, and it roared with a thunderous fury that shook the earth.
Jabor ducked beneath a swipe of the beast's clawed hand, grunting as he thrust his spear into a joint. Joe followed suit, though slower, his actions less refined but fueled by brute force. The beast howled, turning its attention to the trio.
"Hit it where it hurts!" Jaxon commanded, his gray eyes alight with the thrill of the challenge. He wielded a massive mace, swinging it with precision despite its size, aiming for the soft tissue between the armored plates.
"Stay focused bros!" Cal called out to them, dispatching another lesser beast with a clean slice into its softer underside.
"Heh, leave it to us!" Jaxon retorted, a smirk evident in his tone even as he parried a vicious strike. His posture, the set of his shoulders—all spoke of a warrior who reveled in the heat of conflict.
"Nice," Elena said, sparing a glance at Jaxon's maneuver before loosing another arrow. The projectile whistled through the air, embedding itself in a stage-one beast's skull.
"Cal, push!" she urged, sensing an opening. Together, they surged forward, a united front against the encroaching tide of monstrosities.
"Watch it!" Cal warned as a beast lunged at Elena from the side.
"Got it!" With reflexes honed by years of survival, Elena sidestepped and dispatched it with a swift stroke of her blade.
Each strike Cal delivered was met with an answering twang of Elena's bowstring, her arrows finding their marks with deadly precision.
Elena gave a terse nod, her focus unbreakable. Her quiver seemed to never empty, each draw and release as fluid as water flowing from a stream. They moved as one, a dance of death choreographed amidst chaos, their synergy a testament to their shared experiences in the field.
"Jaxon's struggling!" Elena's voice cut through the din of combat. She leapt forward, agility defying her petite frame.
"Go!" Cal shouted, dispatching another stage-one with a jab that silenced its chitter forever.
Elena closed the distance to where Jaxon fought, her footsteps silent on the blood-soaked earth. The stage-two beast loomed, its hide like armor, impervious to most attacks. She assessed the situation, her violet eyes catching the glint of weak spots beneath the beast's scales.
With a breath, she let loose an arrow laced with electric current, its flight true. It struck beneath the beast's arm, where chitin gave way to vulnerable flesh. The creature roared, pain and rage in its cry.
"Hit it again!" Jaxon yelled, seizing the momentary distraction.
Elena's next arrow was already on its way, arching towards the beast's eye. A squeal of agony confirmed its impact, the beast reeling as dark ichor leaked from the wound.
"Keep them coming, broski!" Jabor's voice joined the fray, his tone laced with the strain of battle.
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"Got it!" Cal heard the determination in Elena's reply, even as he turned back to the few remaining stage-ones.
Their numbers dwindling, the lesser beasts faltered. Cal's resolve did not. He moved through them, each motion deliberate, leaving nothing to chance. His world narrowed to the edge of his blade and the enemies it sought. With a final, sweeping blow, the last group of stage-one beasts fell at his feet.
Cal's blade arced through the air, a silver flash in the tumultuous fray. Stage-one beasts collapsed beneath the weight of his precise strikes, their twisted forms crumpling to the ashen ground.
As he cleaved through them, his mind wandered, just for a moment, to their abandoned refuge. The memory was brief—a flicker in the heat of combat. They had thought themselves secure, ensconced within the cavern's protective embrace. But safety was an illusion; the beasts grew bolder, numbers swelling like a tide. Relocation was inevitable. Deep into the volcanic crater they moved, seeking respite once more.
"Clear!" Cal's voice resonated across the battlefield, a signal to regroup for the final push against the larger threat.
"Cal." Temp's voice cut through the din, its digital timbre stark against the guttural cries of the remaining stage-two beast. "I have reached a threshold. My experience accrual is... halted."
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Name Temp Class Mortal chair (level 50 / 50) Bloodline Lineage of Leonidas Attributes STR VIT VIG DEX INT WIS LUK Total Effective level Base attributes 50
(+9) 55
(+9) 50
(+9) 50
(+9) 50
(+9) 50
(+9) 50
(+9) 355 50.71 Total attributes 68 70 64 64 64 64 64 459 65.56
[Achieve 50 base points in all attributes while still a mortal - title awarded, Average]
[Average: +2% all stats]
[Level cap reached]
[Eligible for evolution]
[Evolution attribute tolerance set at +/- 7]
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Cal paused mid-motion, his next attack suspended in disbelief. He saw no trace of jest in Temp's interface. "Maximum level?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Affirmative." Temp's response held a note of electronic solemnity. "I am unable to progress further."
A frown etched itself across Cal's features. Surprise mingled with concern as he took stock of the revelation. Temp—once a mere tool—now grappled with the limits of its own growth. Cal nodded, the finality of Temp's situation settling in. "We'll figure this out," he assured, though who he sought to convince—Temp or himself—remained unclear. Temp had crossed the threshold just before he would.
"Watch out"
Cal heeded the counsel, steeling himself once more. The battle was just about over, but surprise could not give way to distraction. With a renewed grip on his dagger, he finished the remaining rolly pollies.
Cal's long dagger arced through the air, cleaving a path through the remaining beasts. The beast before him reeled back, a gash opening along its flank. Even as it staggered, Cal turned to the cervidians, their own battles waning in the wake of victory.
"Hey bros," he said abruptly, his chest heaving with exertion. "What the deal with this evolution thing?"
"Haha, my friend, you are capped out?"
"Why is he so weak?"
Elena chimed in, "He's still a mortal."
"A mortal!?" All three exclaimed.
Jaxon grunted. With a swift motion, he dispatched the final wounded creature. "Evolve too swiftly," he began, voice deep and resonant, "and bro, you'll regret it. Roots must grow deep before the tree reaches high. That's what pops says. But I haven't heard of roots as deep as yours."
"Heh, appearances can be deceptive" Elena quipped.
"Strength lies in patience, bro" Jabor added, moving with grace despite its bulk. "A foundation built in haste is prone to crumble under weight!"
Elena wiped her blade on the grass, eyes scanning for any remaining threats. "They're right," she interjected, nodding at the cervidians. "Evolution isn't just about gaining power. It's strategic."
She stepped closer, her violet gaze holding Cal's. "Some titles can only be gained as a mortal. They are perhaps the most valuable to your foundation early on. But they come from not only attributes, but also skills. Attributes guide your growth. Skills shape your destiny." Her words were sharp, each one deliberate. "When you choose your class, choose wisely. It will define your journey."
"Thanks," he acknowledged, feeling the weight of their advice settle within him.
"Indeed," Elena affirmed with a measured smile. "Careful doesn't mean slow. It means precise. You only fill one dao-bound skill as a mortal - try to get it before you evolve."
Around them, the battlefield quieted, the volcanic crater their crucible.
"Oh, what is this about attribute tolerance?"
Elena replied, "Ahh, yeah. I was confused to why you were able to evolve. People who go beyond the tolerance are stuck. Good for you - must have been all the luck you gathered with the system through these fights, still weird though."
Cal froze, "Shit."
[Escalation, stage 2: Survive the entrapment of hungry predators. Time limit: 274 hours]