Ser Patrick Pent
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046 Understanding the Dao
🕑 Added 2024-02-16 07:16:05 +0000 UTCThe next day, we went out to clear more Rock Lurkers.
The instant we arrived at the spawn point, a dozen Rock Lurkers threw themselves at us. The sudden ferocity of the ambush surprised me, but the monsters couldn’t keep up with three determined rankers.
We ground for levels until our stamina depleted, and then we retreated a few paces to catch our breaths.
Paz stared down at his muscular torso, which glistened with mud and sweat. “Any moment now. I can feel it. I think I’m close to level 14.”
“I’m glad for you,” Nicola said. “But this isn’t doing anything for me. If we don’t find some other spawning ground, forget about beating Byron. We’d die to the Labyrinth mobs.” She sat in the mud, unconcerned about her matted hair and clothes.
“Just two more days left,” Paz said. “You’d see.”
I touched my cheek, which stung from where a Rock Lurker had gotten a lucky hit. Despite their low levels, they managed to put up a fight. Something to do with their base stats?
“What kind of mobs populate the Labyrinth?” I asked.
“The worst kind,” Nicola said. “Chimeras.”
“The fire-breathing lion goats?”
She wrinkled her nose. “That’s an oddly specific combination, Damien. But, yes. Fire-breathing lion goats can be classified as such. The chimeras lend an air of unpredictability to dungeon encounters. It’s not advisable to challenge the Labyrinth without a well-rounded party.”
She glanced at Paz. “We might be a tad under-leveled and unbalanced.”
“That ‘tad’,” I murmured, “is doing a lot of heavy lifting.”
Paz snorted. “As far as balance goes, we aren’t too bad.”
“If you were a Guardian maybe,” Nicola said. “But, Damien and I are both vulnerable to damage, and Skirmishers aren’t known for their defensive skills—”
“Why bother with defense when you can just slug an enemy in the face?”
Nicola touched her forehead in a futile attempt to quell a groan. “Three glass cannons with no one to initiate. We’ll get steamrolled the instant we make a misstep.”
“So, we’ll try to avoid that,” I said. “Making mistakes, that is.” I took a seat on a rock and scribbled on the ground with a stick. “What’s our biggest advantage?”
“Utility,” Paz said without missing a beat. “We might not have the best team comp, but we more than make up for it with classes that synchronize well with our affinities.”
“And our biggest disadvantage?”
This time, Nicola answered. “Fragility. Any random team would beat us in a protracted battle.”
“Poor judgment and protracted battles.” I scribbled illegibly on the ground. “Two errors we must avoid. It means we would be best served sneaking up on enemies and going all out from the start.”
“Full power from the get-go,” Paz said. “My kind of fighting.”
“It also means you need to be strong enough to handle sustained aggression in order to create chances for Nicola and me to get into position. What’s the one thing that gives Skirmishers the edge?”
Paz scratched his chin. Despite his mannerisms, he took ranker stuff seriously. “Melee damage. Polearms require equal tiers in Strength and Dexterity. A Skirmisher levels these two stats first.”
He didn’t need to finish; I already gleaned his meaning. Strength moderated physical attack and resistance, while Dexterity added extra damage to any weapon with the [DEX]-based property. Seeing as the two stats also boosted movement speed, Paz wasn’t wrong to brag about his physical offense.
“So, why do you fight barehanded?” I wondered aloud. “Without a polearm, you don’t gain the extra benefits from Dexterity.”
“I simply don't have the coin,” Paz said, managing to look unfazed despite a reddening of his cheeks. “Ranker-grade gear is pretty expensive. And, a regular polearm would break on first contact with a Guardian’s axe or shield.”
“Well, that simplifies things. Our first goal, then, upon entering the Labyrinth is to procure ranker-grade items for all of us.” I dropped the stick. “We’re really in over our heads, huh? No money. No gear. And, we are almost a hundred percent weaker than the man we intend to kill.”
“Welcome to the life of an adventurer,” Paz said, slapping my back. “Hopefully, you live long enough to enjoy it. Now, go eat and meet me back here for sparring.”
The sparring session ended the same way as the last time.
Paz, once again, proved that we were not equal as far as hand-to-hand was concerned. But, I ended up picking a few combat tips I had earlier suspected.
Basically, health armor protected the body from true damage as long as one had HP available. But, some attacks could bypass health armor to a degree, of which concussions were the foremost.
Critical hits—or more accurately, hits to vital areas—also sapped more HP than usual. This explained why I could kill goblins with quick strokes to the neck but struggle to do enough damage while attacking anywhere else.
The two points meant that one needed to be a good fighter despite the protections. And, relying on fighting techniques to do the bulk of the work removed the element of personal intelligence that all fighters needed.
I limped back to the cave, regretting with each twinge of my hip that I’d refused to [Meditate] back at our sparring ground.
Squelching noises—audible to my sensitive ears interrupted my thoughts.
“Um, Nicola?” I said, stopping just short of the cave entrance.
Loud shuffling followed. Nicola appeared in a short, linen dress and bent over her knees to catch her breath. Damp, black hair clung to her forehead, loosened from her intricate array of braids. “Uh, Damien?! You’re back? You boys finished sooner than I expected.”
Sweat gleamed on her upper chest and arms. A palpable heat wafted off her skin, filling my nostrils with a heady scent. Something stirred in my loins—dark and fearful—like the sinuous uncoiling of a snake.
You have resisted [Lust].
“Nicola,” I cried, slamming back to reality. “Turn it off!”
Nicola balked. “Oh, goodness. Damien, I’m so sorry. I had no idea!”
The heat dissipated. The tightness in my groin area vanished alongside it, calming my breathing.
“Was that your ability?” I asked. “[Ecstasy] or something?”
“Yeah . . .”
“Why were you using it in the middle of camp?”
Nicola’s eyes widened. “I-I didn’t d-do it on purpose! It triggers by itself whenever I . . .”
I forced my eyes away from her heaving chest. Whenever she . . .?
And, then it hit me. Oh.
“Are you that frustrated?”
The summoned tentacle nearly bifurcated my head.
“It’s not like I have a choice,” Nicola said, after accepting my plea for leniency. “You have no idea what it means to be [Born of Pleasure]. The longer I go without gathering Eros, the weaker my spells, and the harder it gets for me to focus.” She buried her face in her palms. “The last couple of weeks have been brutal because I couldn’t make time for myself. I'm so fucking tired, Damien.”
Her voice broke at the end, springing me to action.
“Hey,” I said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t need to explain. Not to me. I’m also born of an affinity.”
Nicola shook her head. “No. We’re teammates now. It’s best to avoid awkward situations in the future.”
I waited for her to speak.
“I received two abilities from my trait after my eighteenth birthday,” she said. “One of those abilities is called [Eros Collector]. It created a third energy meter alongside HP and stamina.”
I ignored the obvious question about how the [System] knew that such techniques were best reserved for adulthood. “I’m guessing this third meter measures your level of Eros?”
“Yeah . . . pleasurable activities grant me a measure of energy. It builds up, increasing arousal, and well . . . I experience release when the meter is at its fullest.”
“What happens then?”
Nicola glanced at me with half-lidded eyes. She stood closer to me now, enough that her hot breath cascaded around my neck.
“I get so fucking powerful,” she rasped. “My spells activate with twice the power, and every step I take sends pleasurable sensations shooting into my skull.” Her finger poked my chest. “The euphoria lasts an entire day, but once it’s done, the meter empties, and I get jittery until I fill it again.”
That explained why she was so prone to hysterics. I couldn’t imagine that kind of life—living each day in pursuit of the next release. It put another meaning to thinking with one’s nether. [Born of Fear], in comparison, did nothing to affect my mood. But, Nicola . . .
Her hand slipped lower, toward my belt.
“Okay!” I said, extricating myself. “I should probably give you some space to, err, finish up. I’ll speak to Paz about giving you some alone time, about two hours each day. Would that be enough?”
Nicola stared at me with smoky eyes, then blinked at my hands on her shoulder which kept her at arm’s length. And, considering that I stood a good deal over six feet, that was a lot of length.
“Yeah . . .” The fog in her eyes cleared. “Oh, Heralds, Damien. I’m so sorry.”
“Think nothing of it,” I said before she could break down into tears. “I’d help out if I could . . .”
I paused. No. No. Abort mission! There was only one possible way to help, and I wasn’t taking it.
Thankfully, Nicola didn’t pounce on the opportunity, allowing me to hobble out of the cave with mumbled apologies and one hand in front of my pants.
Paz took one look at my face as I returned. A wide grin split his lips. “Ran into Nicola, huh?”
I sat ungracefully beside him. “I’m assuming you knew.”
“I did. I heard the rumors about her in the tavern. Plus, you don’t need a medium to understand the reason she rustles a lot at night. That’s a damn terrible power she’s got. Terrible and useful.”
“Useful?”
“Between the two of you, our enemies will have a hard time fighting us while scared and distracted. Imagine decapitating someone who had to defend himself with a boner in his pants! That’s comedy gold.”
Please, no. The last thing I needed was a reminder of that incident.
“Assuming they don’t resist it,” I said.
“True that.”
We settled into an easy silence.
Paz spoke first. “I saw you scribbling on parchment the other day. What was that about?”
“Oh, just some notes I’ve been keeping. I don’t want to forget any of the [System] stuff I learn.”
“You intend to optimize your build? Like some kind of min-maxer?”
There it was again. Proof that Vizhimans knew terms that inhabitants of a fantasy world had no business knowing. It meant that a deeper connection existed between Vizhima and Earth. But, of what kind?
“That is my intention, yes,” I said at length. “To avoid pitfalls and irreversible mistakes. However, to do that, I need more information on [System] mechanics. I’ve gathered little of value so far.”
“What bothers you?”
“A few things. For starters, what’s the exact number of stat points a ranker may earn in their lifetime?”
“Two hundred and seventy-five,” Paz said, without missing a bit.
I blinked at him. Even Mavari did not know that. “You’re not kidding.”
“Why would I? A lot of Adamantiums have said the same.”
275 . . . Then, that means . . .
“Stat points cap at fifty,” I mused aloud. “To level all eight attributes, one would need four hundred points.”
“Then, don’t level all eight.”
“Yeah. With two hundred and forty points, one could theoretically raise each attribute to thirty . . .”
“The Grand tier.”
“. . . but, that would mean having attributes that are two tiers weaker than the peak across the board.” I drummed my fingers. “The smarter choice would be to raise five attributes to fifty and ignore the others, assuming there are no diminishing returns the higher up you go.”
“There aren’t,” Paz said with a grin. “I’ve seen idiots argue in favor of that: stopping around thirty for a more rounded build. But, that’s plain disingenuous. Unless you have no idea what you are doing, you don’t need to dip a hand in each attribute.”
“Lean on your strengths and abandon your weaknesses.” I could vibe with that. “Though, I suppose a mix of both schools of thought can also be effective. Something like three attributes at fifty, and another three at forty.”
“Bah. Your first inference was the best.”
“Tell me about skills and abilities, then,” I said, resisting the urge to scribble there and then on my parchment. “Is there a process that governs their unlocking? Or, do I keep fighting monsters and hope for the best?”
Paz crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back against a rock. “A little bit of both? Starting from level 20, you gain one technique choice every ten levels. Can be a skill or an ability, depending on your class. But, you’d need to choose one from a list of options.”
“And what determines the options you get?”
“The part about fighting and hoping for the best. The [System] favors rankers who gain XP from enemies many levels above them. This favor comes in the form of improved choices to select from and better rank-up rewards.”
“What are those?”
“Another way to learn new techniques. Apart from the choices you gain every ten levels, you also learn a random technique each time you achieve a new rank.” He scratched the bridge of his nose. “In your case, your next rank-up reward comes at level 25.”
This time, I couldn’t refrain from writing. I extricated the parchment and the quill. “What you’re saying is that I would choose from a list every multiple of ten and get a freebie each time I rank up.” I did the math. “That’s a total of fourteen techniques.”
Paz glanced at my notes. “Remember to add the four you earn immediately after Specialization. Everyone unlocks [Meditation], a fighting style, and two techniques. I also forgot about the [System] bonuses at levels 15 and 85. Include that.”
Oh, yeah. I’d gotten [Decoy] for leveling up after the fight with the Primal Dread Monkey.
“Twenty in total,” I said with a sigh. “And, more, I assume for anyone with a trait.”
I studied my notes. The idea of dealing with random elements in the course of completing my build irked me a little, but I could see why the [System] had designed things this way.
It was not beyond some asshole to try to level up by committing mass murder. Placing a penalty on shortcuts made for an interesting approach.
Paz laughed when I shared my concerns. “That’s the whole point of the [System], Damien. You can plan your build all you like, but if you aren’t pulling off impressive feats, you’d only end up with mediocre techniques. Punching beneath your level does nothing to help you. And, neither regulars nor specialists provide an iota of XP.
“There’s only one route to power available to a ranker: Kill greater enemies.”
I added that advice to my notebook: Kill greater enemies. Ben’s commentary from a few days ago on the plight of adventurers made more sense now. At some point, this job stopped being fun and became a constant battle of throwing oneself at increasingly dangerous challenges to reap greater rewards. Little wonder Ben’s mental health had suffered for it.
“Wait,” I said. “You knew all of this yet brought us here to fight Rock Lurkers below level 10?”
Paz rose calmly to his feet.
A few seconds later, he sprinted down the swamp.
Asshole.
We returned to grinding the next morning.
A plethora of Rock Lurkers swarmed us the instant we arrived, forcing us to slip into a tight unit. Our cohesion as a team wasn’t quite where it should be, but we still made good progress by syncing our techniques.
Nicola killed one Rock Lurker by summoning a tentacle into its open maw.
“I’m beat,” she said, falling to her knees. “Let’s call it a day.”
The dormant Rock Lurkers squirmed. They rumbled in agitation and rolled at a glacial pace around the arena, smacking into each other. Each of them that collided remained conjoined, and the rumbling picked up until it evolved into a ground-shaking crescendo.
“It’s happening,” Paz cried, as the ground trembled beneath us.
The Rock Lurkers merged, one atop the other until a stony behemoth towered above the swamp. Smaller chains of rocks formed its limbs, and its boulder-head sat atop an impressive stone torso.
Green eyes glowed down at us from deep in its face, bearing such malice that Nicola and I took a few steps backward.
Paz clapped in place, oblivious to our terror. “See? I told you. Clearing all those Rock Lurkers wasn’t for naught!”
I took a look at the giant stone golem and at the tooltip hovering over its head.
Primal Rock Lurker LVL 26.
[Scaredy-cat] fired in tandem with the monster’s roar.
“Oh, hell no,” I muttered.
Comments
NinjaZebra
It’s cool, TFTC!
Ser Patrick Pent
Sorry for the delay!
