What. The. Fuck?!

  It’d killed itself! And very violently too! ‘Yep, just gonna poke three arrows into my skull and gurgle out a bit of sad dialogue. That’s perfectly normal, ain’t it?’

  Flynn was baffled beyond words. Granted, he’d dealt some good damage to it near the end, but with that second form, it’d still had a solid fighting chance. More so, even. He’d have been hard pressed to match its speed and come out alive. Then again, he could’ve just hidden it out under his Shroud until it’d run its course, and maybe it’d known that.

  Maybe it’d known that eventually, the advantage would fall to him and instead had chosen to go out on its own terms. But its eyes. He shivered. It’d been so fucking happy to go. That smile it’d worn had been a hundred percent genuine, he was sure. It’d been relieved to die.

  No longer... a slave, it’d said.

  What did that mean? He was absolutely sure that it’d been a protector now, not a destroyer. Every tear drop it’d shed was proof enough of that. But if so, what had actually destroyed the shitling settlements in those carvings? His best guess? The same force responsible for everything else.

  The force that even now flowed through him, gifting him with miraculous powers and abilities. Had it enslaved the shitlings after destroying their home? Maybe their world?

  What was the point of all this?

  He paled at the thought that came afterwards. Would it do the same to Earth? Was that what was happening? He imagined his city burning. His house in flames, and his family dead or worse: enslaved. He staggered back before he steadied himself. No. He was getting ahead of himself. He had no definite proof, and needlessly worrying himself with something on that scale would only get him killed.

  He needed to focus. Forget the dead boss – though that’d be hard. Focus on what he knew. It’d called itself a slave. It’d been happy to die. It’d... it’d held back, he was sure. One of the pages had said as much. It’d been at least ten levels above him. That was a minimum of a ten stat advantage across the board. His percentage boost closed the gap a bit, but it was likely that it could’ve still ended the fight right from the start if it’d lunged at him with its full speed. He’d been an idiot, walking as close as he had then. He could’ve been done and dusted right then.

  But it hadn’t. Maybe there was a rule that stopped it from doing so, though he was doubtful. The creature... the being, it’d wanted to die. Maybe not at first, but after he’d shown it the illusions...

  What had seeing those spires whole again awakened in it? What realization had it come to that it’d given up on everything? Never home again, it’d said.

  He sighed and cast a furrowed glance at its corpse. Blood pooled beneath it from its wounds, but its face was still cast in a wide smile. His eyes lingered on it for a few seconds before he turned to the object lying on the floor.

  It was a mask made of a fine, patterned ebony wood that roughly resembled the boss’s face. Picking it up, he tested its weight for a second before slipping it on. A small strap bound it to his head, and he immediately felt the bonus stats settle into his being, strengthening him from head to toe. Flexing his fingers, he exulted in the newfound strength he felt contained in his fist. In his entire body, to be true.

  It’d not been as obvious before, seeing as his stat gains had always been a trickle of one’s. But now. He truly felt the boost as it worked its way through his very bones. He could kick harder. Punch faster. If he’d had this speed then, the boss even in its second state wouldn’t have been as much of a blinding blur.

  The mask itself was surprisingly breathable as he shifted it into a more comfortable position, and strangely light on his face. And given how large the eyeholes were, he wouldn’t be surprised if he forgot that he even had a mask on most of the time. All he needed now was a hood and a cloak and he’d fit the perfect archer aesthetic.

  His lips slipped into a smile for a scant second at the thought, though it only lasted until he caught sight of something lingering above the boss’s corpse. It was the countdown, and it continued to tick away. He tensed.

  Wasn’t the fight over? It was dead, right? Right? He couldn’t imagine anything surviving three arrows to the skull, but then again, he no longer lived in the kind of reality where common sense applied. Readying himself, he stepped away from the corpse and studied it from a good distance away. By all accounts, it looked as dead as dead could be. His surroundings seemed no different too.

  Still, Flynn decided to walk away from the body. Striding at a calm but quick pace, he glanced back a few times until he was well enough into the distance that he turned his attention elsewhere. Occasionally, he would study the spires as he walked, eyeing the stories they had to tell. Tales that spoke of a people of great culture, with a deep love of growth and creation. The spires were just one way that they’d expressed their need to build. There were others, spoken of at great length in carvings along the spires.

  In a way, the structures were like a history of the species, detailing their every achievement and feat in just as much detail as any thick tome or scroll could. Maybe that was why the boss had been so distraught by even the slightest damage dealt. Even a slight nick could erase part of a story, consigning that little bit of its species to the void of forgotten stories.

  Knowing that made him slightly regret his part in damaging them. He hadn’t known, of course, but his heart still ached a twinge. Flynn scowled. He didn’t like feeling this way. He was no bleeding heart, but...

  Stupid thing just had to kill itself with that fucking smile on its face. He shook his head, determined to get the image out of its head. He walked, his pace growing brisk, as he tried to distract himself with his new gains. He’d only lightly perused the pages before he’d dismissed them earlier, and now they would serve as the perfect medium to hold his attention.

  The new trait was his biggest reward, he noted as his eyes danced across the pages, gifting him both with the mask and another five percent boost to his stats, which pushed his overall boost to a grand twenty percent. It was no small number. As it was, it meant that all his stats had increased by a minimum of four, and that number would only grow bigger as time passed.

  The item spell was another unexpected but greatly appreciated surprise. Rereading the spell’s tooltip, he realized that Goliath’s Rage might’ve been the very same spell that the boss had used near the end. If so, then it must’ve known that it hadn’t had much time to make the most of it. Five minutes, and then weakened as it was, it’d have been putty in his hands. Even Cheek coul-

  Cheek!

  He’d forgotten all about the bow in the chaos. He hastily resummoned it. It fluttered to the ground, slightly scratched but otherwise unharmed. A pulse of intent from his side was answered with the emotional equivalent of soft snores. The little bugger was still unconscious. He snorted and unsummoned it again. Let it have its rest. God knew it wasn’t often that they could.

  Surveying the rest of his gains, he allocated the two points he had from his massive two-level jump into mana potency. He had no desire to be completely rounded out, but having a lack of good damage options meant that he’d need to boost his regular arrows as best he could, and potency was his best means to do that.

  That said, his newest class spell helped in the offensive department. Veiled Arrow wasn’t anything mind-blowing, but the potential was self-evident. That done, and with nothing else to double-check on, Flynn resolved to spend the rest of his time warily scouting out his surroundings. Whatever happened once the countdown came to its end, he would stand prepared for it.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  ◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆

  Flynn had planned to meander meaninglessly, but his feet somehow walked him right back to where the boss’s corpse laid. Above it, the countdown ticked without pause. Thirty seconds left, it said. He smiled. Talk about good timing.

  The last few seconds crawled by at a snail’s pace, and it was with some small sense of relief that Flynn saw that final second tick down.

  Congratulations! You have cleared the First Stage!

  Rearlands Stage

  Monsters Slain: 153

  Bosses Slain: 1

  Hidden Quests Found: 0

  Hidden Quests Completed: 0

  Hidden Artifacts Found: 0

  Stage Result: B+

  Flynn’s brow rose.

  Well, a page was preferable to the spires erupting with shitlings as he’d feared, though this one had some strange things to say.

  Hidden Quests? Artifacts? That was a thing? Flynn scratched at his cheek, an irritated frown across his lips. How was he supposed to have looked for something he hadn’t known existed? Nobody’d told him a damn thing.

  He’d pretty much just walked obliviously in a straight line from start to finish until his unfortunate trip down the meaty chute. Had he walked past a ton of treasure hidden right underneath his nose? His inner loot goblin raged like a toddler denied his favorite pacifier.

  “That’s fuckin’ stupid, man.” he grumbled.

  He did not approve of the B+. Flynn grimaced. The old, over-achieving part of him was piping up again. He’d had to stifle that side of him for a long time until he’d finally accepted being just an average student, but with the world gone mad, it’d taken the reigns once more and he wasn’t against letting it do so.

  Average in this new reality might as well have been a death sentence.

  There was the sound of something popping and Flynn swerved to face the door that’d just blinked into being near the boss’s corpse. He untensed, his bow lowered. Stupid magical doors. Nearly scared the shit out of him. It was a plain thing compared to the grand carved doors that’d granted him entry, but maybe that was a good thing. He’d had his fill of carvings for a while.

  He strode towards the door and grasped at the handle but stopped. His eyes slowly drifted to the monster’s face, and that sappy part of him ached again. Flynn was quiet for a long moment, before he spoke again. “I’ll keep your stories alive, boss. That’s all I can give you.”

  And with that, he pushed, and the world twisted, and suddenly he was no longer in the plains. Familiar red flesh surrounded him in every direction. Flynn immediately searched his surroundings for any sign of danger. He found plenty worth a second look, but nothing that screamed danger, and with nothing pinging his Monster Sense he relaxed and cast a calmer eye over the scenery.

  He was in a cavern again, but not the shitling cavern. It was well-lit, unlike the Rearlands, a warm light emanating from no singular source above, and that made it easy to take in the full extent of the landscape. It was, in one word, vast. In fact, calling the place a cavern was like calling the Himalayas a hill. The word vast could only barely encompass the sheer breath-taking size of the place.

  So large was it that he could see wispy cloud-like streaks drifting lazily far above him and in the distance, a bony mountain range protruding from the fleshen floor like thousands of jagged knives. Closer still, he realized that he was on a ledge on a steep hill, and from his vantage point he saw forests of strange mushroom-like trees and enormous lakes of bubbling green-yellow liquid littering the plains below. The lake particularly caught his interest. Objects protruded randomly from its simmering waters, most of which were melted beyond recognition though some retained enough of their original shape to still be recognizable.

  Like the half-droopy banana he spotted that was large enough to comfortably house him inside, or what was undoubtedly an enormous half-eaten chicken leg. There was more, and his stomach grumbled at the sight of the food, disgusting as it was.

  That was all he needed to see to guess where he was. The stomach. He sighed. It was a better locale than the last, at least. The smell here was slightly acrid, but it might as well have been a fine perfume compared to what he’d endured thus far.

  With no idea about where he needed to go and in no immediate rush, Flynn spared a moment to fill up on water and food before he set off towards the most interesting landmark. The forest.

  Well, second-most interesting. The lake was by far cooler, but he’d rather not be anywhere near a massive pool of bubbling acid. The brush with the boss’s belch attack had been close enough for his tastes.

  Hefting his backpack back on, he set off into the distance. His bow was kept loose in his hand, an already manifested at the ready. He expected danger, but nearly an hour of quiet walking was enough to get him to slightly lower his guard. Not fully, but enough that he could better appreciate the sights around him.

  The trek down the hill was a comfortable one, helped along by his increased physical stats. A day ago and he’d have at least broken a light sweat, but now? He could’ve probably gone for hours more without problem.

  Occasionally, he would send out multiple Illusionary images to scout out the land around him. It wasn’t necessary. Bright as it was, and given the lack of immediate cover around him combined with his Monster Sense, it was unlikely that anything could ever manage to sneak up on him. But better safe than sorry.

  Your spell has ranked up

  Illusionary Self: 1 >> 2

  Spectacle Arrow

  Class Spell - Rank 2

  (Lucky Gift) ?

  Create a false image of yourself that will follow your commands. Your image cannot physically affect anything and does not produce sound or smell. It can last for up to 20 minutes and is not bound to you by proximity.

  Up to 5 Illusionary Selves can be maintained at any given time.

  Every slain foe has a 5% chance to drop a [Lucky Gift]

  A [Lucky Gift] can contain any one of the following:-

  A minor healing potion

  A minor mana potion

  A minor stamina potion

  A slice of bread

  A cup of water

  A soft pillow

  A small blanket

  A slip of paper containing a limerick

  A refreshing breeze

  A cat’s meow

  And if caution earned him a rank up, then even better. The increased number of selves was great, as was the longer duration. It essentially doubled his scouting radius, if not tripled given the extra copies. Flynn was quick to send the images off to work.

  The hours ticked on, but aside from a terrifying earthquake that seemingly made the entire cavern shake ominously, his trek to the forest was otherwise uneventful. He’d not seen hide nor hair of a single shitling, or whatever else called this new realm home. He had seen some critter-like beings, but they’d wanted as little to do with him as he’d wanted to do with them.

  It was getting dark by the time he’d finally arrived near the borders of the mushroom forest; the bright ambient light having dulled to a faded orange. It would be night – or whatever counted as night in this place – soon, and he had no desire to be caught outside when it did. Who knew what kind of nasties would start to pop out from the woodwork under the cover of dark.

  Ahead, the forest loomed with trees of multi-coloured bulbs and pale, ashen-white stalks. Some of them loomed so large in the distance that they rose like giants amongst the rest, but most were maybe twenty to thirty feet tall.

  All around him he heard an assortment of strange bestial calls echo between the stalks, and though Flynn had surrounded himself with his cohort of illusions, he still made sure to keep his senses clear and focused. He didn’t plan to go deep. Not so close to dark, and not as the first signs of fatigue had started to tickle his mind.

  He wanted to sleep, and to do that he needed a base. It didn’t take him very long to find one. A nook in one of the fleshy mushrooms provided ample cover. There wasn’t much in the way of foliage around, but there were plenty of disgusting vein-like tendrils lying all about. He harvested some and bunched them up in front of the nook’s opening.

  Hopefully it’d be enough cover to keep him hidden from any inquisitive intruders. Settling in, he pressed his backpack against the makeshift door as added protection before making himself comfortable. Icky as it was, the fleshy ground was soft, and it didn’t take him long before he started to drift off to sleep.

  He’d already started to dream when a stirring sensation rudely dragged him right back into the realm of the waking. He rose, his brows furrowed, when he felt a familiar feeling beneath him. He stared down; his eyes wide.

  “Fuck.”

  He knew that feeling.

  The ground opened. “Not agaaaaaaaaaainnnnnnn.”