You have earned a level

  6 >> 7

  He barely glanced at his page before he discarded. It’d not been long since he’d earned his fifth and sixth level, and he already had his seventh. These monsters were good for the grind, if nothing else. The allocatable point went to his speed, just in case he might need it.

  He probably would.

  Flynn sucked in a breath.

  He had a plan. A risky one. One that might see him dead, but at this point inaction was just as likely to kill him. He glanced behind him. They were wretchedly clever, the vermin. There wasn’t much space left. They had been slowly pushing him back and back, building their wall closer and closer as they did. Eventually, he’d have nowhere to step to when they came. That was one end.

  Far more likely would be dying by a thousand cuts. He eyed his body. His white uniform was stained with patches of red, parts of it torn and frayed. Dried blood coated his arms and legs, some still weeping small rivulets of blood. It was a small wonder that he hadn’t died from anemia yet. Maybe he had his earned stats to thank for that.

  But it wouldn’t be enough to see him through. He could feel himself growing weaker.

  His breath shallower. His vision swam at times. Every bit of his body was sore with exhaustion and ache. Even full of mana, he felt drained, and worse still, he felt poison running through his veins from whatever filth coated the monster’s teeth.

  He was on a clock, he knew, and with every passing second his chances dropped.

  He’d only lasted this long because of stubbornness, hate and the good luck of a minor health and stamina potion drop from his Lucky Gift. That’d been useful, but too little to turn things around. He’d also earned another limerick - which he’d screamed at the things as he promptly killed them – as well as a small pillow and some bread.

  That’d made him feel better.

  And now, the time had come. Flynn readied himself. He could hear them digging furiously, clearing away the latest corpse wall. Which one was this? The fifth? The sixth? He’d lost count. But no more.

  He would wait. Time it well. He glanced at Cheek by his side. The bowst was fully healed by then. It clung close to him. He gave it a nod and it nodded back reluctantly.

  It didn’t like the plan. Liked the fact that it would put him in so much danger even less.

  But it was their only hope. He swallowed thickly. The bowst shifted until it’d pressed itself against his chest as close as it could manage. He needed it close for this to work. The spell didn’t offer much space to work with when he’d tested it, and even the smallest portion that could peek out could give the game away.

  Fortunately, the spell seemed to wrap around his backpack, or he’d have to leave it behind as well.

  Sucking in a breath, he waited as the first gaps started to appear within the wall. Beyond, he saw a snarling, ugly face. He still waited. Others teemed behind it and many more behind them. He’d been calling them a horde in his mind since the beginning, but it was only then that he felt the full weight of the word settle on his shoulders.

  How many more left? He’d seen dozens at the start, but he’d killed twice that number already, at least. Hundreds? Thousands? He didn’t let himself dwell on that.

  Couldn’t.

  Flynn instead recounted what he needed to do before he shared a look with Cheek. The little bugger was sending him strength through their bond. Not literal strength, but emotional. Good feelings and steadying support. He ran a finger down its length, thanking it with a word. He would need that strength when the moment came. Every bit of it.

  And the moment did come. The last body he’d been waiting to be cleared was moved away, and Flynn relaxed his fingers. His arrow struck the lead monster in the face before an explosion of fire engulfed the entire corridor. The familiar drain of mana came to him in a heady rush, seeping into his limbs. He ignored it as best he could. The creatures immediately started to screech and retreat, their fear of fire overcoming their senses.

  He didn’t think he’d be so lucky for long. The devious little things would eventually realize that the fire wasn’t hurting them, but it would take them time. That delay was crucial. Flynn was clambering through the corpses like a man possessed, every inch of his being dedicated to bulldozing towards the end.

  Some monsters still lingered in his way, those smarter than the rest, enough to figure out the falsehood of the flames. Still, they were blinded by the light and colour, and he slammed them out of the way easily enough. The corridor hadn’t been that long, but every yard seemed to come at a snail’s pace as he clawed his way forth. It felt like hours before he’d finally poked through the end and into the wider cavern. The monsters were still scattering, but he could see them assembling beyond the edges of the fire, preparing to charge. Flynn loosed another two arrows. Another of fire, and the other of light.

  Twin explosions swept through the cavern, gifting him with the opportunity he needed. He crept out of their sight, veiled by the flames, along the wall until he found a decent spot, and then he cast another two spells. His mana was running low by then, but his increased mana capacity from all his levels was pulling its weight in carrying him through the exertion.

  The first spell was an Illusionary Self, and he sent it running straight out of the fire. The other was his Shroud. The spell came into being like a warm blanket, settling on his body as he pressed himself low against the wall. The smaller his surface area, the less demanding the spell. Afterwards, he waited. The monsters had already started to march into the flames, no longer cowed.

  It was two seconds later when one of their number noticed his false image running madly into the distance, and then the horde turned as one, the message seemingly sent across the entirety of their number in the span of a heartbeat. They thundered after the image, dozens and dozens and dozens in number.

  Flynn watched quietly; his eyes wide but his breath soft. His flames eventually died out, casting the cavern in darkness again, but he didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. Not until the last of the monsters had skittered far into the distance.

  You have earned a trait

  Hide and Seek Professional

  Action Trait - Greater

  Requirement: Use a stealth-based spell to survive certain death.

  Your stealth-based spells are more potent, but your sensory spells are weaker.

  You have earned a trait

  Battle-Salved

  Action Trait - Masterful

  Requirement: Survive battling alone against a dangerous foe continuously for an hour.

  Whenever you slay an enemy, you heal according to your damage dealt. You cannot heal or be healed by any other means.

  You have earned a trait

  Lead-Nosed

  Action Trait - Lesser

  Requirement: Endure a great stench for more than an hour.

  You are more tolerant of foul smells, but less perceptive of pleasant smells.

  You have earned a trait

  Forerunner: Monster Slayer II

  Achievement Trait - Legendary

  Requirement: Global first to slay 100 monsters.

  +10% to all Stats.

  Trait Spell: Study Monster

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Study Monster

  Trait Spell - Rank 1

  ?

  You better understand the monsters you slay with every successive kill.

  Your spell has ranked up

  Spectacle Arrow: 1 >> 2

  Spectacle Arrow

  Class Spell - Rank 2

  ? ?

  Unleash an arrow of illusionary power that can have one of three effects.

  - The arrow explodes in a burst of light upon impact

  - The arrow produces a sound upon impact

  - The arrow is wreathed with the illusion of an element

  Your spell has ranked up

  Summon Bowst: 1 >> 2

  Summon Bowst

  Class Spell - Rank 2

  (Enfeeble) ?

  Summon a small autonomous crossbow capable of hovering several feet off the ground that will follow your commands. It can cast any projectile-based spell that you can, but at a lesser potency. It is permanent and draws from your mana pool to cast its magic. It is not bound to you by proximity.

  Only one Bowst can be maintained at any given time.

  Flynn’s gaze danced across the sudden deluge of pages. Traits. Traits galore. And two of his spells had ranked up to boot. He hadn’t even known that they could do that. He’d suspected, seeing as they had ranks, but it was nice to have that confirmed.

  Not as nice as having a second monster slayer trait, and what it confirmed. A hundred. He’d killed a hundred of the bastards already. A chill shiver crawled up his spine at the thought, though he quickly shook it off. And the reward for his slaughter? His struggles?

  Fifteen percent. He swallowed thickly. He had a grand total of a fifteen-percent boost to all his stats across his two slayer traits. Fifteen! As it was, that meant at least an extra two stat points across the board, and that number would only grow as he did.

  He almost felt the new strength that flooded his body. He stood a little straighter, breathed a little easier. Or maybe that was just his imagination. It was just two stats points after all.

  And the new trait spell? That was just the cherry on top.

  Finally, he’d know more than what he’d plainly guessed about the wretched toad things, and maybe that was the most important reward of all.

  Nah. It was still the stats. Flynn grinned madly.

  Flynn read through the rest of his gains, his smile inching up with every word he took in. Traits could be earned by action. He tried to digest that fact. Tried to figure out what else could be done that could become a potential trait before he shook his head and refocused.

  Priorities, Flynn. Theorizing could come later.

  For now, he needed to survive, and his new traits were perfect to that end. More than perfect, even though unlike his Forerunner traits, these ones had drawbacks. It was still exactly what he needed.

  His thoughts raced as he tried to figure out the best path forward. It took him a half-minute before he decided on what needed to be done. More risk. More danger. But it was his best available option. He glanced down.

  A few droplets of blood pooled beneath him from his trickling wounds. No time.

  He rose up to his feet, and the action sent a chorus of pain echoing across his body, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t swallow down.

  Flynn studied his surroundings before he took a careful step forward still cloaked in his Shroud. No reaction. Nothing jumped up from the ground. No great trap. Good. Another step followed, and another, and another until he was quietly sprinting as fast as he could manage across the cavern, his eyes peeled for any sign of monstrous activity. It seemed like the horde was still chasing after his poor Illusionary Self, and he thanked it for that sacrifice.

  But he wouldn’t have long. A few more minutes at the most before they came thundering back. He needed to find a source in the meanwhile. Fortunately, it didn’t take him long to pick up a ping in his Monster Sense. Ahead, he saw one of the grasping hands scattered all around the cavern convulse, before a slit opened along the palm and out crawled one of the toadish monstrosities.

  The freshly birthed creature sat around for a few seconds, its beady eyes as curious as a newborn would be. It was still the same size as the others, and equally as ugly. Was that how these things were made? Flynn didn’t even want to image how conception worked.

  Another shiver.

  He abandoned his Shroud and plunged an arrow into its head.

  ‘Return to sender.’ he thought with vicious glee. The monster shook for a second, its eyes wide as if it couldn’t believe that its life was over just seconds after birth, and then it died.

  Shitling

  Monster

  A shitling.

  Shitling.

  He blinked. Was someone messing with him. Was it God? Was God responsible for throwing him into this mess? You picking a fight, Jesus?

  Was it the heavens that decided that he had to fight against... shitlings?

  He needed something to punch. Flynn glowered, and the pleasant sensation of his wounds healing as the last of its life leaked from its corpse only calmed his irritation by a sliver. Flynn scoffed.

  Shitling.

  ◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆

  Flynn picked up the loot. He didn’t have much time to savour his gains. He could already sense the rest of the creatures converging on him. His gaze swept across the page.

  Icy Bolt

  Rank 1 Spellgem

  Can only be slotted into a water, wind or ice-aligned spell.

  Every cast of this spell has a 10% chance to also cast a costless [Icy Bolt].

  Icy Bolt

  Cast a projectile of hardened ice.

  Trash. He’d already found a few like it by then: spellgems that couldn’t be used, or were of so little use that they might as well have been useless. Still, he pocketed it. There was no telling what it could be used for down the road. He’d had some nice gains too though. A few more slices of bread that he’d devoured with haste, and a few monster parts that he figured might be valuable to someone eventually.

  He’d pocketed all of them even if they weren’t. Damn loot goblin that he was.

  He’d even earned another health potion, though it was functionally useless to him because of the trait.

  Flynn swerved on his heels as soon as he sensed the first turd enter his range.

  An arrow put it down swiftly, this one a scout meandering about for his exact location. It died with a croak, but Flynn had been well on his way before its corpse had even hit the ground.

  Lvl. 5 Shitling

  Monster

  An inhabitant of the Rearlands. Though individually weak, a shitling is only alone when scouting. More often, it is found in great mounds that range from several dozen to several thousand strong, and the closer one goes to their central nexus, the larger the mound.

  Sight is a shitling’s strongest sense, and it is through sight that they hunt and navigate their territory. Few creatures can hide from a shitling’s well-developed eyes. In comparison, their senses of smell and sound are limited at best, which is perhaps an adaption to their pungent natural habitat.

  He’d killed a few dozen over the course of the past half hour, and aside from the loot, his most appreciated reward had been the fact that his wounds were almost fully healed. That only mattered so long as he kept from earning new ones, of course.

  And that was the question on his mind. How long could he keep ahead of them? There’d been some close encounters that’d given him cause for worry.

  As strong as he’d gotten with all his traits and spells, the damn turds seemed to grow just as strong. He half wondered whether they were scaling with him. It was the only answer that made any sense as to how they could keep up with him.

  It kept him on his toes. Kept him smiling.

  Even with their growth, he still had the undeniable edge. His illusions were strong enough to deceive their sight, and his arrows tore through their hide with ease. If he kept from being overwhelmed, he was golden. That was getting to be a harder and harder ask as the minutes passed. The damn things were relentless, and the hands seemed to spew forth more and more of them the more he killed.

  He’d only seen a handful of the hands at work at first, but now near every one of the things he passed was convulsing disgustingly as it formed a shitling inside. And worse still, destroying them achieved nothing. Seconds after whittling one with arrows, another popped up right next to it and continued its work. And that kept happening until he realized that there was no stopping their production.

  It was all he could do to cull the numbers. With his Shroud at hand to slip out of sight, he kept them from bunching up into a horde and instead forced them to spread out in search parties several dozen strong.

  It made for hectic traveling, but manageable. Especially with the new and improved Cheek by his side. The rank-up had done wonders for the little guy. Small wonders but wonders still. Its arrows hit harder, and the extra spellgem slot it'd earned was now equipped with another of his gains.

  Status Extension

  Rank 1 Spellgem

  The duration of any status inflicted by this spell is extended by 50%.

  That was another two and half seconds to Enfeeble, which had proven most useful as they scrambled around the cavern.

  Still, despite all his growth and newfound strength, Flynn was annoyed. It’d been almost an hour of running and gunning and he’d still not found an exit. He’d stumbled upon a few dead-end corridors like the one that’d nearly been his coffin, as well as a rare patch of black-coloured tiles peeking from underneath the flesh, but nothing more. There wasn’t even a hint of the spout that’d violently ejected him into the cavern in the first place.

  He refused to believe that it meant that he was trapped.

  There had to be a way out. A way forward.

  Somewhere in the dark.

  He just had to endure until he found the answer.