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Chapter 19 - Baptism of Blood
🕑 Added 2023-08-16 18:21:49 +0000 UTCChapter 19
Baptism of Blood
Name: Ethan Flynn
Age: 32
Race: Human
Level: 3
Variant: N/A
Titles: N/A
Items: [Tar-Tipped Waeul’s Dagger]
Relics: N/A
Class: Blood Inheritor [Prime]
_________________________
Vitality: 26
Strength: 9
Intellect: 11
Agility: 16
Wisdom: 5
Health: 260
Blood Pool: 13
Damage: 44
Cooldown Reduction: 0
Physical Defence: 0 [Reduces physical damage intake by the amount]
Magical Defence: 10 [Reduces magical damage intake by the amount]
____________________________
Abilities:
[Bloodbound - Level 1]
[Vampiric Touch - Level 1]
[Sanguine Snap - Level 1]
[Bleeding Agony - Level 1]
Ethan mulled over the status window for a moment, noticing the pattern–each Level Up increased his Vitality by 2, his Strength by 1, and his Agility by 1, for a total of 4 points. Most classes usually had 1 to 2 points of distribution, rarer ones had between 3 and 4, and the ones that had more–if there were any–were never publicised as such. Stats themselves weren’t really all that important–soon enough, raw stats from Items would far outpace any gain made through the Levels, but it was still a nice boost early on.
As far as the Monster Log went, there were only two entries–Kdans, the ‘official’ name for the zowolves, and Waeuls, the creatures they were hunting in the tunnel. Besides their name, the Log listed their average Health, Damage, and Special Abilities. There was a peculiarity about the Log that even Ethan couldn’t circumvent, no matter his knowledge–he’d first have to fight and defeat a monster before their info was logged into the book, so even if he knew exactly what certain monsters did, he was unable to fill out their entries.
While early on the sale of information would also happen by a simple exchange of words, soon enough that practice would be expunged as there was really no way to confirm the info as correct until fighting the monster, while all information stored in Monster Log, even if incomplete, was still 100% true.
Some few years in the future, a dedicated career of a ‘Monster Logger’ would spring up as they would buy, resell, and use other means to acquire info on monsters before selling them off for an updated price. It was quite a lucrative field, especially if someone managed to land an exclusive monster or two, but the plans Ethan had in store for it completely outstripped even the most notable ‘Monster Loggers’ of his past life. That was for the future, however.
Tara didn’t ask him anything about the Monster Log–either she figured it out on her own, thought it was just a basic log as in actual games (as did most people early on, in her defence), or just didn’t feel like asking him just yet. Whatever the case was, she followed in silence, coping with her actions as the adrenaline wore off. Ethan didn’t rouse her or comfort her–it wasn’t his place, after all, unless she asked.
They encountered several more camps along the way, all sporting between 2 and 5 monsters. Some Ethan cleared himself, speeding through, and some he let Tara do away with the monsters, acclimating the girl to the life of an Awakened a bit more. Sitting down at one of the last few camps before the boss for rest, Tara finally broke the hours-long silence.
“I think I understand Ronald, now,” she said.
“Hm?” Ethan glanced at her.
“When he came back from your little excursion,” she said. “The look in his eyes… the way he spoke about you… it changed.”
“...” she looked up and met his gaze.
“I get it. It’s like… every time I see you fight, I’m back to that night we met. I’m a tiny nothing and you are this… this thing that stands above everything. Makes me question everything.”
“Everything?” Ethan arched his brows. “Even stupid shit like, I dunno, how saying ‘get me a thong’ to an Australian and an American dude elicits really, really, really different reactions?”
“...”
“Ah. It’s there. I saw it. A tiny smile.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Tara chuckled lightly. “I’m being serious.”
“Don’t be,” Ethan shrugged. “Live life as unseriously as possible. Otherwise, it ain’t worth it.”
“Wow. Old man yells at clouds over here.”
“Ah, if only,” Ethan chuckled, standing up and stretching. “Next bit will be somewhat dangerous. Stay back, and admire this old man as he kicks some serious ass.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tara rolled her eyes. “I’ll make sure to yee and yaw and woo like a proper fangirl.”
“... I think I just threw up a bit into my mouth.”
“A bit? My entire soul just cringed.”
“Good. Good. So your brain ain’t broken yet.”
“Piss off.”
The Tunnel’s boss monster wasn’t another Waeul, or its oversized variant. It was a worm-snake hybrid of sorts, eight feet long, half a foot thick, two-headed, with each head sporting two tongues. Its skin was part scaly and part fleshy, pattern switching between the two, with dark green and dark brown intermingling from the entire body, with the creature’s eyes shining in stark scarlet.
The Monster Log called the creature Wocan, though the rest of humanity called it by its colloquial nickname: the Driller. The nickname was rather self-explanatory: the creature’s main tactic during the fight was to drill holes in the ground and use them as springboards for surprise attacks. Though it was an annoying fight, it wasn’t particularly difficult. The biggest challenge, really, was simply having enough patience to wait out for when the boss decides to surface.
Ethan didn’t make any particular preparations. He could have likely created some makeshift smoke bombs and thrown them into the holes to fan the creature out, or even just flood the holes with water, but it was unnecessary. Even without any gimmicks, the battle likely won’t last longer than ten minutes, and that was only just because Ethan’s Level was still on the low end–not to mention that he would be the only one dealing damage to the creature.
Wocan, or the Driller, sat coiled in the shade of the tallest and broadest tree, with its canopy widening a gap around the trunk for nearly forty feet in circumference, disallowing any other trees to grow. Tara hung back further out, beyond the open clearing and in the cover of the trees, observing everything, her heart coming to a screeching halt upon the sight of a massive behemoth that would likely be the world’s most dangerous predator if it existed on Earth. And yet, Ethan was approaching it unconcerned, his steps even, confident, even lazy to a degree.
The beast began to uncurl and unfurl as soon as Ethan stepped out onto the clearing, its scarlet eyes opening with a lightning shine, its tongues splashing out in a strange choir of hisses. Its flesh pulsed like an independent organ, rising and falling like a person's chest, and its two heads moved in unison, in perfect symmetry. It was a strange and eerie and even an uncomfortable sight, yet Tara couldn't help but gasp in awe at it. She'd seen monsters before, two variants at that, but this was different–it was large, so much so that she felt people with megalophobia would find it as nerve-wracking as the notion of a moon descending through Earth's atmosphere.
Ethan effortlessly opened a gash on his forearm, causing crimson blood to spray out in droves. However, rather than falling onto the ground, it transformed into a massive, seven feet long whip of blood, one that rivalled the size of the monster itself. Before the latter could recognise anything, Ethan slashed the whip forward in a swift motion, cutting through almost forty fleshy bits and parts, yanking chunks of them, and causing the monster to begin bleeding profusely.
A strange noise flooded out of the monster, an odd mix between a hiss and a roar, a whisper and a scream, neither and yet both. It wriggled like mad for a moment before it suddenly bent forward and downward like a hook, slamming its head into the ground. The earth shook and chunks of ground flew out as the monster slithered down the hole. Ethan, still, stood unflinching. He expected it, Tara concluded. By now, both Ronald and she fancied a few theories about Ethan, though neither ever dared voice them beyond a hushed whisper.
Tara’s most prominent theory was that Ethan was one of the ‘selected ones’, in so much that extraterrestrial deities responsible for the Descent and everything else happening chose Ethan, for some reason, to receive knowledge and strength to survive the apocalypse, perhaps in the bid that he would lead humanity’s resistance.
Ronald's leading theory, on the other hand, was that Ethan wasn't a human, to begin with, but one of the monsters that are beginning to appear everywhere on Earth. It was just that he crossed over before everyone and planned for when the Descent would inevitably happen.
In truth, both danced and ducked and dipped around the most obvious one, one that was screaming at them from the very beginning, as they simply did not want to entertain it. It was easier to indulge in the crazy theories that held a loose grip on reality than it was to face the uncomfortable truth: either Ethan was beyond perfectly clairvoyant… or this was not his first time surviving the Descent.
The creature surfaced suddenly at Ethan’s rear; just as Tara was about to scream a warning, Ethan moved to the side effortlessly, sliding as though on ice, and dodged a monster’s strike before suddenly striking out with his fist–it appeared so tiny in comparison to the behemoth of a monster, but when it made contact with one of the intact fleshy bits, it burst through and ripped it whole asunder. The creature, once again, screamed, its entire body shuddering and violently thrashing. The tail-end whipped at Ethan and the latter, rather than ducking or dodging, rammed his feet into the ground and welcomed it.
He was pushed some ten feet backward, sliding as the tail slammed into him, but eventually came to a stop, holding tightly onto the creature’s tail. A wicked smile appeared on his face, one of almost orgasmic remembrance, as his muscles flexed, arms heaving upward. Against seemingly all logic, a tiny person managed to lift the entire eight-foot-long creature that weighed at least a few hundred pounds and prevented it from escaping into the dug hole.
Ethan roared, veins on his arms bulging like worms, every inch of his body flexed and tensed to the max as he flung the creature to the side. It appeared to fly off slowly, but the collision with the tree in the back was still cataclysmic–the entire tree shook, thousands of leaves falling off from its branches like rain, while the creature wailed in agony. Suddenly, its burst, fleshy parts began to ooze rancid stench, one that even Tara could smell so far away and one that immediately made her keel over and vomit.
However, Ethan stood still, unmoving, untouched, unfazed. For a while now Tara had wondered why she hadn’t developed a crush on him–after all, he was her type. Tall, decently handsome, fit, smart, arrogant to the bones, seemingly always in control. Now, though, as she stared at him, her eyes swarming with tears, her throat burning, lungs begging for fresh air, she realised why: he was a thing rather than a person, wholly unwhole, and the kind of thing that would go unloved, but would instead be worshipped, admired, and feared. The means of a human could not be applied to him, for he seemed to live in a reality that was not their own, but a separate one, one divorced from seemingly every cosmic law.
He bound forward and reached the creature in a couple of strides, a foot-short whip of blood appearing above his right forearm. It was dense, Tara noticed, far denser than his larger variants. It was distinctly red, pulsating, alive. He lashed it out in front of him, directly at one of the creature’s heads, cutting it off in a singular motion. The entire head flew off like a ball, rolling in the air, followed by a gushing spray of blood. A string of notifications assailed her peripheral, but she ignored them all, entirely taken in by the sight of a phantom being baptised in blood. One day, so long as she clung to his shadow, she, too, would collapse the sky and uproot the ground with her thoughts. She would be his army, and he would be her wings. Some day, some way, she wished to say.
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