With the tall guardsman chasing after him, Michael ran for his life. Despite having such a head start, it only took a couple of seconds for the man to be right at Michael's heels.
Fortunately for him, that was where his trail of surprises began. Ducking beneath a branch and making sure to step higher than usual, he avoided what would have been a nasty fall for any normal man.
Unfortunately the man behind him was not normal. With a crack, wood meant to trip him snapped like kindling and the man stumbled, but it was enough for Michael to narrowly dodge his grab.
Correcting himself, the man immediately continued his chase, barreling towards him like a bull. Michael led him through a gap in between two trees, once again stepping extra high, making sure not to step on any of the sharp rocks strategically scattered on the ground.
Hearing a growl of frustration, Michael didn't dare to look back, continuing his mad dash through the forest. He hopped over fallen logs, slipped through thorny bushes, and slid down inclined rocks as his pursuer stumbled across one obstacle after another, accumulating minor injuries. It seemed that no matter how wounded, tired and frustrated all those traps made him, Michael couldn't shake him off completely.
Michael has gained some extra distance after the last trap, where his pursuer ended up sprawled on the ground. Despite that he recovered quickly, jumping to his feet and trying to hound Michael down.
Michael on the other hand was almost out of breath, using the distance to climb up a small hill, he intended to use his lead to rest his legs. Which of course meant pelting the guardsman with rocks as he tried climbing after him.
Selecting one from his prepared pile, he took careful aim as the guard was just starting to scale the small hill on all fours, crawling almost as fast as Michael could run. Throwing the rock with everything he had, Michael didn't bother to look whether he hit, already bending down to pick another one.
A single shout of pain was all the confirmation necessary as he straightened up and aimed another painful shot at his enemy's head. He almost fell over, throwing the rock as fast as he could.
This time he took a second to watch the aftermath, for morale, he told himself. The rock smacked the guard right at the top of his skull, causing him to grunt. Michael turned and ran. He has never seen anyone just shrug of getting smacked with a rock like that.
There were still two traps left in Michael's arsenal, but his confidence in them was wavering. By all reason, that monster of a man was supposed to have been rolling down that slope with a concussion.
Michael stopped by a large tree, roots of which were sprawling in every direction, as thick as Michael's legs. There he set himself in a ready stance, with his puny sharpened stick aimed towards the quickly approaching enemy.
The man slowed down when he noticed Michael standing still, now approaching more warily. "Ran out of tricks?"
Blood trickled down his forehead, the rocks obviously doing some damage, even if it was superficial. His pants were about as dirty and torn as they could get without falling of at his knees and Michael noticed he was leaning on his right leg.
Step by step, he walked closer to Michael. "If Bernie's not all right this is going to get a lot worse than just an arrest."
As if he was going to believe this would ever end with an arrest. The ex-cop was now just out of the reach of Michael's spear. Just one more step.
"He squealed like a pig when I stabbed him, squeee!"
That was all the encouragement the man needed, he threw himself forward in a stance Michael would have called perfect, left leg stepping forward, left arm reaching for his spear, preemptively stopping it from stabbing, right arm swinging his cudgel for Michael's side. If Michael got hit by that it would cave in his chest, making him die horribly, drowning in his own blood, but he didn't.
Before the swing could gain any speed the ground beneath the guard's left foot disappeared, leaves and twigs unable to carry his weight, giving way.
The guard screamed and Michael froze. He heard screams like that before, calls of agony. He has caused more than his share of such screams.
Returning to present Michael didn't waste another precious second, stabbing his makeshift spear at the man's exposed throat.
Only for the cop to grab it mid strike, his rage filled eyes staring deep into Michael's. He pulled the spear from Michael's grasp, almost pulling him off his feet, and dove for him.
Throwing himself to the ground, Michael narrowly dodge the getting grappled. He was certain he would have died right there if the cop could get his hands on him. Scrambling to his feet he turned to run.
To his surprise, it took less than ten seconds before he heard the familiar sound of stomping behind and cracking branches, now accompanied by pained grunts, behind him.
Risking turning his head around, he witnessed the machine of a man just taking the agonizing pain of running with a stick impaled right through his foot. It was then that he remembered that Pain Threshold was part of a Physique tree, as was Endurance
Approaching the steep decline he set out as his last line of defense, Michael started the slow process of climbing down. His brain was running at its fullest as he tried to remember which stones would hold his weight and which ones would under him, making him fall all the way down.
Thanks to his preparation he was making quick progress, already halfway down by the time the cop has reached the ledge, Michael was certain he would lose the man here, if nothing else.
That was before the guardsman decided he done with playing by the rules. Not even stopping to consider what was before him, he jumped, launching himself with powerful legs, straight at Michael midsection.
He only had a split second to react but there was no safe way to dodge the man's tackle. He couldn't duck nor jump and throwing himself sideways would just end up with him rolling all the way, exactly what he had intended for his adversaries.
In the end, he chose the option that was the least likely to end up with him dead. Diving straight for the unstable rocks, he was already preemptively curling into a ball, his arms around his head, knees tucked to protect his torso.
Slamming the ground hard, he could feel half a dozen of bruises and scrapes already. Then, he started rolling down, along with the rest of the rocks on the hill, starting a small rock slide. The world started spinning and his body was being battered in miniscule intervals. The punishment continued even when he has finally stopped at the bottom, rocks falling on him, bouncing off, slowly burying him.
When he was certain it was all over, he tried to stand up. The rocks on top of his body shook but refused to move, so he tried harder, pushing his bruised back into the rocks beneath him. He refused to die here, buried alive. He refused to die at all.
With a final shout of effort he managed to push rocks off his chest, others fell to replace them but the majority of the weight on him was gone, pulling his head out of the stone grave, he looked around.
Spotting what he wanted, a great weight has lifted off his heart. The monster of a man that chased him all this way and survived all that lied just a little bit further. Rocks have piled up on his but not done much more, instead his neck was bent at an odd angle. It was not the rocks that killed him, but his own leap.
Only now did he allow himself a moment to breath a sigh of relief, and to check his injuries. His entire body was battered, bruised and scratches everywhere other than his head, chest and stomach. Carefully Michael dragged himself out of the body shaped hole in the rocks, letting them fall where his limbs used to be.
His arms and legs had done their job, sacrificing themselves for the more important body parts. He checked his hands, noting two fingers on his left hand, bent at an odd angle, as was the thumb of his right hand. His legs on the other hand were fortunately not broken or dislocated. He was missing a small patch of skin on his right calf and had a bleeding wound and his left thigh.
Dragging himself over to his adversary, he prodded his leg from as much distance as possible. Nothing. Refusing to underestimate the power of Physique again, he kept throwing rocks at his head until it was clear he wouldn't be waking up any time soon.
Now safe, Michael collapsed on the ground, allowing himself a few minutes of rest.
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Waking up with a start, Michael quickly looked around. He was still in the forest, there was still a body of a large ex-cop before him and it was still night. Unless he slept for almost twenty four hours, but seeing as he still felt very tired that was unlikely.
Still, it was incredibly risky to fall asleep here. The cop's partner was still out there somewhere, there could be wild animals here, he could even freeze to death.
Checking his hands confirmed that he has not slept for long. The swelling has barely started. He needed to figure out what to do about it, and quickly.
Michael.
That voice, again. Did it come to gloat about him killing a person? If he didn't do so he would just as dead right now. He was certain that man would wring his neck like he was a chicken if given the chance. Especially after he laughed at his comrade.
Look.
In. Yes, yes. Last time, it kind of just happened when he thought about it and closed his eyes. Was it really that easy?
Look.
Sighting in annoyance. Michael closed his eyes, wanted to be in his mind, if only to shut the voice up.
When he opened them, there he was, in his small room, illuminated by a single light bulb. It kind of reminded him of a bunker from world war two. There were plenty of those in his homeland.
The only difference since he has left stood on the cabinet, there were now two hole punchers. Michael approached them, picking each in a different hand. His hands were still mangled here, and the pain he felt in the real world has tagged along as well. His mind was probably a bad place to hide from his own pain.
One of the hole punchers bore the carved numeral zero, the attribute one, obviously. He has used them all last time. Only thanks to those points he has been able to devise his plan, and put it together so quickly. These points were invaluable, each one empowering their users considerably.
After he did some quick math he came to the conclusion that since he started with twelve attribute points and twenty four skills, he started with a total of sixty skills points. Each additional attribute point added six more skill point.
That made each attribute point worth ten percent of the base he started with. If it was the same for every human, then everyone would see as much as thirty percent improvement in their overall ability after just touching the obelisk.
That reminded him. His theory of the obelisk giving out these powers must be true, his own have appeared after he came into contact with it. He wondered if everyone's talk with the white man inside went the same way as well. Were they all looking for more obelisks? Did everyone have a guiding light burning out their brains in their sleep?
Shaking his head, he focused on the other hole puncher, it held the number one. His theory was that this was a skill puncher, a way to increase a single skill, much less beneficial than the attribute puncher but it was probably easier to come by.
Then he remembered that the voice was quiet until the chasing cop has died, only then reminding him of checking out his mind's bunker. The point had to be somehow connected to his death. A shiver ran down Michael spine.
If people could gain real, material power from killing, would they ever stop? No. Would Michael kill to have the power to survive? He didn't want to answer that question. But no matter, he couldn't freeze here when the cop's partner could be on his way.
Turning around and walking back to the board he considered where the one skill point he had could be used best.
INTELLECT 6 PSYCHE 4 PHYSIQUE 3 MOTORICS 2 Logic 6 Volition 2 Endurance 3 Hand/Eye Coordination 2 Encyclopedia 6 Inland Empire 4 Pain Threshold 3 Perception 2 Rhetoric 6 Empathy 4 Physical Instrument 3 Reaction Speed 2 Drama 6 Authority 4 Electro-Chemistry 3 Savoir Faire 2 Conceptualization 6 Esprit De Corps 4 Shivers 3 Interfacing 2 Visual Calculus 6 Suggestion 4 Half Light 3 Composure 2
Logic and Encyclopedia were possible options, both might provide tactical advantage and possibly a way to set his fingers back himself, which he needed to attempt one way or another.
Only Volition struck him as a viable choice from the Psyche table, but not only did he not know what it did, he didn't know if there wasn't some kind of a special limit on it, considering it was stuck two point below what it should be.
The first half of the Physique tree enticed him quite a bit right now, especially the first two. The two of them seemed like viable options, both in the short term and the long term.
As for the Motorics tree, the only thing that looked somewhat enticing right now was the Reaction Speed. He remembered an axe whizzing past his head as he ran from the encounter with the two cops. A split second might be the difference between life and death.
With a heavy sigh, Michael puncher a hole in a page. His theory that this was a skill puncher confirmed when no further holes appeared.
He looked at the Endurance page and its four holes, he hoped he didn't make a mistake but he had reason to believe it would be the most beneficial one. After all, the night was far from over. One down, three to go.