by Arthur Stone
Uh-oh. If the net gave way before he could finish the beaver off, Dark might not be able to kill it. In desperation, he took aim at the beaver’s eyes. But the beast was moving its head so quickly that he missed, and missed again.
Things were no longer going according to plan.
Your spear has broken.
Dammit! He should have kept going for the belly—his spear had shattered on the animal’s thick skull.
Dark yanked his second spear out of the sand. He went for the beaver’s back and side, trying not to hit it directly in the spine. After all, this spear was his last weapon. Not counting the net, but he couldn’t deal any damage with that.
The beaver at last gnawed a hole large enough to push its head through. Soon it would be free. Dark abandoned his attempts to keep the beast under control with the net. At this point, that would only cost him strength reserves that he didn’t have. His Stamina was dangerously low, and his legs were beginning to shake. Every last bit of his energy had to go to dealing damage now.
He dealt ten or so more stabs by the time the beaver was finally free. The animal was in tatters, covered with blood, and only its front teeth were still clean of purple and red. They set immediately to seizing Dark’s shin.
The man screamed in pain but still stabbed at the beast’s neck.
Beaver deals you 5 damage.
You deal Beaver 5 damage.
That was a surprise. They were fighting on equal terms now, or nearly so. Hah! Furry fool. This is why real animals lurk and hide, not rush at people!
The beaver made no move to retreat: This was a game, after all. Now the protection on Dark’s shins was gone. Despite the hellish pain, the player managed to jump over the beaver. As his enemy turned, Dark covered it with the net again.
It was shredded, yes, but it would still hold the beaver for a short time. Enough time for six stabs, as it turned out. The gnawing ended with more snapping sounds, widening the hole, and the animal went for Dark again. Its movements were stilted now, exhausted, and its bite barely hurt, dealing only 3 damage.
Victory was close. Even though Dark’s Stamina was nearly at 0, this realization gave him such a second wind that he smashed a 7-damage critical hit on the animal, then another normal hit.
Your spear has broken.
Goddammit!
Snarling like an enraged predator, Dark knelt down and struck with his fist at the bloodied ball of tangled wool that was latched onto his leg. He punched again, and again.
At least the beaver fell from his leg onto its back. Its paws relaxed, stretching out to all sides.
Note: Personal victory! Beaver killed! Weak mob. Level 3. Location sensation level: 10%. Personal sensation level: 60%. 19 progress point received. The following skills played a significant role in this battle: Athletics, Heavy Weapons, Physical Attack, Physical Critical Hit, Tolerance, Tirelessness, Unarmored Combat, Hand-to-Hand.
Progress points distributed.
+4 Athletics progress points.
+3 Heavy Weapons progress points.
+4 Physical Attack progress points.
+1 Physical Critical Hit progress points.
+1 Tolerance progress points.
+1 Tirelessness progress points.
+1 Unarmored Combat progress points.
+1 Hand-to-Hand progress points.
The numbers were paltry.
“You’re kidding me!” he screamed.
He had spent most of the day before working with flint, with spears, with a net. He had endured massive amounts of pain at the teeth of this miserable level 3 beaver. And he had received as many progress points as about 19 frogs. Yes, the experience had gone to some new skills. But it was a drop in the bucket. In addition, everything he had worked so hard for had been broken in the fight. Perhaps he could fix it, but that would take still more time.
How many beavers would he have to scream and cry his way through killing just to reach level 1? Dark clutched his pounding head.
Maybe he should just figure out a way back to the Spider. At least the torment he had experienced there hadn’t required so much work to experience.
How did other players deal with all of this? Well, they equipped themselves with the easy-to-obtain beginner’s equipment and set off to complete hundreds of easy quests generously handed out by NPCs at beginner locations.
By the time they reached level 7 or higher, they had assembled sets of weapons and equipment with built-in bonuses rewarded to them by the quest givers. If they won a helmet, it would mean not just protection for their head but some kind of bonus as well. For example, it might increase your Dexterity by 2 whenever you had it equipped. A whole set of items like that meant a significant stat boost. And that was enough to deal ridiculous amounts of damage to opponents at your level, which mean more experience and more equipment. Parties of specialized players could take down ever high-level mobs. One player would tank and aggro the mob, another would drain the mob’s health from a moderate distance, and a third would heal both of the first two players. That was usually the best way to deal with the worst of the bosses. And the bosses would drop buckets of experience, achievements that granted the players bonuses, and good equipment.
Or equipment that was better than sharpened sticks, at least.
Dark saw one plus, though. His heightened sensation meant he earned more experience than ordinary players. But calling that a “plus” was a dubious move. After all, other novices didn’t have to scream in pain whenever they fought something stronger than a frog. In fact, they could clear a whole colony of beavers in passing without breaking a sweat and barely even breaking their stride.
Whatever path lay ahead of Dark, it would be one of intense suffering.
Chapter 20
A New Strategy
Total stat levels: 5
Character level: 0
Mastery level: 0
The beaver gave Dark some low-quality hide, entrails, teeth, and meat. Had he been able to stop gnashing his teeth from the pain of his gnawed shins, he might have laughed at the way the carcass fell apart into a scattering of tiny bone fragments circling the beast’s intact spine. The only cause was the looting actions he had taken in the menu. But he didn’t even smile.
The fact that he had considered the Spider as an option betrayed his mood.
He saw more beaver dams up ahead, but unless he figured out some radical new strategy, there was no point in attacking them.
And his current strategy had taken long enough to prepare for. Could he devise some kind of trap? His experience with the net had established that such things took a long time to make, even when they proved insufficient to ensnare the beavers completely. Traps would probably be as difficult, if not more so. How about a ranged weapon? He might be able to make a bow. He could make bowstring out of the bush branch guts or even strips of beaver hide.
But it would take forever to make enough arrows. And he would end up with a low-quality weapon that would only be able to knock out part of the animal’s health. The rest would have to be settled in hand-to-hand combat, and it was there that the beavers had a distinct advantage.
He wearily chipped away at the second spear as he thought. The first had refused to be repaired. It had just shattered, and this one seemed to yearn for the same end. In the end, though, the game recognized it as the same fragile weapon as before, with full durability.
Dark rose and staggered towards the stream, pleading that its cool waters would reduce the pain he felt. His health bar was regenerating too slowly, and his legs were no longer in agony but still suffered a dull ache punctuated with stabs when he moved.
The water was nearly at his waist when he reached a submerged sandbar over which the strong current prevented the algae from taking root. He stood still, leaning on his spear. “Bliss” was hardly the word for what he felt, but the pain was subsiding.
That battle had exhausted him, physically and mentally. He couldn’t think straight. From grandiose, infeasible traps for the Chitin
Hunters, to dreams of finding oil and using it to light up the dams of those overgrown rats, stupid ideas proliferated in his mind.
He would have to spend years here slaughtering frogs and occasionally picking off beavers just to gain a couple of levels.
What a miserable life.
Perhaps he could hunt some of those pheasants in the bushes. They seemed to show no aggression and little defensive ability. One of them had rushed off without so much as a look back when Dark had tossed a stone at it. But it would be difficult to catch up to them, and it would take a good number of hits to reduce their life to zero. They fled at too great a speed for him to take them out.
Plus, they could fly if they wanted to.
But many skills could be boosted without fighting, or even when suffering a defeat. Spending the night sleeping on the bare earth boosted his Simplicity, for example.
A little. Yet the game was built on conflict. By the time Dark reached level 10 via peaceful paths, his beard would grow long and gray. And even level 10 was not enough to risk traveling to regions inhabited by other players.
He might as well just sit square on his ass and wait. Sooner or later some lover of adventure would push through magical lands of dinosaur jungles and demon volcanoes and discover this location. And stumble on a near-naked man sunbathing on the beach amidst heaps of frog skeletons.
Dark grinned.
No way. I’m going to keep trying even if it kills me. He would explore more of the region and try his strength against more local animals. Eventually, his tactics would improve. And he could stop eating raw frog legs.
He had little of his human dignity left, but he certainly had nothing else.
As if sensing his thoughts, the game gave him a gift: from the depths of a slowly swirling eddy, a large, swollen fish peacefully floated up and wriggled lazily into the shallows. Dark stayed motionless until the creature was about to bump into his leg, then lifted his spear and dropped it in one fluid motion without even bringing its tip out of the water.
Clouds of sand filled the water, dropping visibility to zero. But his hands, gripping the spear, could feel that something big and strong was writhing furiously at the other end. Dark added downward pressure, pushing the tip into the bottom of the river and preventing the fish from escaping, and began to drag his prize to the land, using his trailing foot to kick the fish’s tail. It would hopefully think the danger was in that direction and allow itself to be pulled the other way. Perhaps it would even help.
He jerked his arms and tossed the fish up on the bank, then beat it with his bare fists as he held it down with his knee. Out of its element, the fish lashed furiously but was unable to deal him any damage. Many punches later, Dark expected the carp, or whatever it was, to disassemble itself into meat, eyes, and fragments of bones and scales. But the game surprised him with its realism this time. The dead fish looked like a dead fish.
My first catch.
He grinned. The fish was raw, but it was preferable to frog legs. He still had to fight hard to keep from gagging on the latter.
Note: Personal victory! Lazy Barbel killed! Weak mob. Level 2. Location sensation level: 10%. Personal sensation level: 60%. Bonus for fighting in the enemy’s natural environment: 100%. Penalty for killing the enemy outside of its natural environment: -50% bonus. 18 progress point received. The following skills played a significant role in this battle: Athletics, Heavy Weapons, Physical Attack, Physical Critical Hit, Reaction, Accuracy, Hand-to-Hand.
Progress points distributed.
+3 Athletics progress points.
+3 Heavy Weapons progress points.
+4 Physical Attack progress points.
+1 Physical Critical Hit progress points.
+3 Reaction progress points.
+2 Accuracy progress points.
+2 Hand-to-Hand progress points.
Dark couldn’t believe his eyes. Less than an hour ago, he had moaned in disappointment at a similar message. This time, he was overjoyed.
He had nearly died during that encounter with a meager beaver. The victory had taken all of his strength and had, in the end, been a sad one. And for progress points, the system had dropped him a few crumbs.
But this time, while he was busy letting the river wash his wounded legs, he had speared a fish that happened to pass by.
It hadn’t even tried to bite him or deal him any other kind of damage. Escape had been its only goal. The beaver might have learned a thing or two from it.
It had been level 2, a whole level under the doomed beaver, and yet Dark had received the same experience for defeating it, minus one. All because killing mobs in their natural environments, when those environments were something other than dry land, earned more experience. Dark had even taken a penalty for killing the creature on dry ground, but still, the reward had been significant.
Forget the beavers. Fish was where it was at! Dark had seen them floating along in the shallows before. He had passed them by, some primal, vengeful urge driving him to fight the beaver instead.
I’m an idiot.
It was time to leave the dam dwellers and squishy green reptiles alone.
And time to forget about killing Chitin Hunters.
They had killed him in the middle of the night twice now.
Dark touched the fish’s side and investigated the loot it held for him. Scales, fish meat, fish bladder, fish bone, fish liver, and fish roe. He had expected as much.
But the fish roe—now that was something. Caviar was better than raw frog legs, he was sure. He tossed some of it in his mouth. And grimaced. It wouldn’t make him vomit, but it was too bitter. An unbearable thirst filled his gut, and he moved towards the stream, but three steps down, his legs lost all feeling and he collapsed face first into the sand.
Note: You have discovered a property of Lazy Barbel roe: poisonous. This poison instantly drains 50% Stamina when it enters its victim’s bloodstream or digestive tract.
Warning: Try an unfamiliar food to attempt to discover one of its properties. This is useful for Alchemists. However, you risk losing Stamina, Health, or Mana by doing so, and may incur various short- or long-term penalties. The most potent ingredients may even cause the death of your character.
Discovered 1 alchemical property for 1 low-level ingredient. Location sensation level: 10%. Personal sensation level: 60%. 1 progress point received.
Progress points distributed.
+1 Knowledge progress point.
It was a painful fall, but at least he had gained a progress point. Sadly, it was to a craft skill, not a base skill. And craft skills didn’t pump levels. Perhaps it would come in handy in the future.
All of the terrible thoughts he had experienced after the beaver fight were gone now. This wasn’t the best day of his life, but it had opened new possibilities.
Now escaping this place was not a question of how many frogs, how many days, or how many deaths—it was a question of how many fish.
Chapter 21
Experienced Explorer
Total stat levels: 5
Character level: 0
Mastery level: 0
Dark spent several hours working the strongest wood he could find by the cliff, breaking two flint hand axes in the process. They shattered into tiny fragments, which he put to work in concert with his homemade glue. It was a lot of work, but the result was worth it. The game christened it “Primitive Sword.” It dealt more damage than a spear, and its Durability was better. It made it through a decent fight without breaking. Minor repairs fixed it up to full Durability.
Beaver’s attack deals 0 damage. Your armor holds.
It had better hold! Dark had spent a long time on the armor. It only covered his legs, but that was all he needed. Beaver hide, solid wood plates, and fish skin had crafted shin guards that were quite sturdy, if smelly. They were held together by glue and the wood fibers wrapping them. Two or even three fights would not be enough to break them—after that, he would have to remember to repair them or he wo
uld lose them permanently. Making new armor would take too much time.
You deal Beaver 11 damage. Beaver is stunned.
One advantage of heavy chopping weapons was that a sweeping blow to the head usually stunned animals, rendering them unable to attack or to defend themselves. They would just squeal and shake their heads. Sometimes it took them a second to come to their senses. Other times, it took several. Either way, the lull was a chance to attempt to stun them again.
This time, the repeat stun failed. Dark jumped away from the beaver’s counterattack and crouched down, then brought the sword down to the earth. His blow took the beaver in the front legs. It was his fourth attempt at this move in this fight, and at last it worked.
You deal Beaver 12 damage. Critical damage: broken legs.
Dark grinned evilly and moved a few more steps back, then grabbed the spear he had lodged in the sand. As always, the beaver continued to come after him, despite its injury. Now he would lead it to the tip of the sandbar. Thanks to the beast’s fractured legs and caviar-dart-poisoned blood, the furry fiend would take a couple of minutes to reach him. He would just slowly retreat towards his target, without getting too far away. Otherwise the enemy might return to its dam and require a new provocation to attack Dark. That could go either way: the beaver might attack on its own, yes, but it also might call for one of its fellows, fresh and full of health, to join the fight.
Or a few of its fellows, a case that Dark had encountered before.
Once he reached the edge of the sandbar, he turned and sat, then took another blow down low to the ground. He hit the beast’s paws again, but sadly without any breaks. Unperturbed by this, Dark pushed back to the water and collected the lattice of thick branches he had made, lined with sharp stakes. He heaved it down at the squealing mammal.