11th Spring, Year One

Where the hell is the goddamn coal?!

I spent the better part of eight hours down in the damn fiendholm yesterday, and while I've got a satchel worth of copper, ‘Mysterious Green Crystals' and a lot fewer bullets to show for it, I didn't see so much as a speck of coal dust during my entire trip.

Still, Victor assures me there is coal in them thar mines. I thought maybe my Uncle or the people who owned the mine before him might have mined it all out, but Victor tells me that should be impossible. With the way the fiendholm rearranges itself, it should never run out of materials. The fact that I stumbled on some copper in the entryway of the first level sort of puts the lie to it anyways, they would have mined that all out ages ago.

The problem is, I have to find some, the sooner, the better. I took one look at Victor's prices, and while they might do in an absolute emergency, there is no way I can afford to pay those sorts of prices long term.

I’m going to make another trip down this evening, aiming for some of the deeper levels. I’ve seen a couple of different types of monsters, or rather, fiends, as deep as the fifth floor, but nothing I don’t think I can handle.

Famous last words, right?

Alex

The repeated crack-crack-crack of Alexander's pistol was almost deafening in such close quarters, his ears ringing even through the thick earplugs. His opponent, a freakish-looking monstrosity of a cockroach whose like he hadn't seen since his first apartment, fared even worse, however. Its carapace shattered under the impacts, adding to the already significant damage the creature had received.

It staggered, and Alexander pulled the trigger one final time for good measure, knocking the hard-shelled monstrosity into the dirt for the final time. Even then, it wasn’t until light began to pour from the many wounds he had inflicted that Alex finally allowed himself to relax.

"So many goddamn bugs," Alexander grumbled. Revulsion kept him from advancing any further while the body still lay twitching on the ground. He'd already seen enough enormous insects up close for one lifetime, and if level nine proved to be anything like the previous eight, he'd be seeing more of their kind before the afternoon, or rather, the evening, was done.

He’d been underground for hours, with only his Status Book to tell the time. A little past seven, though it would take only a fraction of that time to get back to the surface. The fiends appeared to respawn between days, just as most of the layout had shifted during the same visit, but they didn’t seem to do it while he was in the fiendholm itself. He’d even hung around until after midnight the previous evening, just to be certain.

While he waited for the creature to vanish, Alexander withdrew his Status Book and flipped it open to the first couple of pages, hoping to confirm a theory:

Damage Dealt (Great Cockroach) -5 (x9) [Resisted: Hard Shell]

Great Cockroach – Has been killed.

"Hardshell huh? Well, that answers that." He said, tucking the book away.

Each of the monsters he’d encountered so far inside the fiendholm, Giant Rats, Ants, Worms, and so forth, all of them had some form of unique traits. The ants came in larger groups, the rats were surprisingly nimble, the worms split into two smaller worms when killed, and so forth. So when he'd caught sight of a single, angry-looking cockroach, he'd assumed there would be some gimmick. When it had taken four more direct shots than anything he'd killed thus far, he'd been fairly certain what it was.

How he would deal with it; that was an entirely different question.

“Only good bug is a dead bug.” He chuckled. He’d need something more than a size ten work boot to stomp these oversized pests.

With his earplugs, he barely heard the sound of scuttling limbs before he saw the creature round the corner ahead of him. Another cockroach, twice as big and just as angry from the look of things. The mother, maybe? Did cockroaches have mothers?

It was a question for later.

Alexander leveled his weapon at the advancing creature and snapped off a pair of shots as he began to retreat. If they did more than tickle the beast, Alexander couldn't tell by its reaction as it pressed on, driving through further gunfire at an alarming speed.

Another aberrant. Damn. He frowned, turning to set off at a brisk jog down the hallway, reloading with both hands as the run opened a small bit of breathing space between him and his pursuer.

The ‘mama roach’ wasn’t the first of its kind he’d encountered. They seemed to be randomly dispersed, with one perhaps every two or three floors. The first had been a rodent of unusual size he’d seen the previous evening, a rat twice the size of the already golden retriever-sized monstrosities that he’d encountered on earlier floors. Aberrant Fiends, as he’d learned they were called, were bigger, stronger, faster, and meaner than their less advanced cousins. The rat had taken a chunk out of him for almost twenty HP, and an especially giant grasshopper of all things had given him fits with its speed as he’d tried to put it down on the sixth floor earlier in the day.

Of course, he’d had the advantage that his bullets actually worked on the previous two aberrants that he had fought. After putting three more rounds into the mother of all cockroaches, Alexander was fairly sure, even without looking at his Status Book, that the bullets were having little or no effect. He was going to have to change his tactics.

Its face looked vulnerable enough, but it was a very, very small target to try and pick out with the fiend barreling towards him. No, as distasteful and frightening as he found the idea, this was one of those times when melee was in order.

Alexander holstered his weapon and produced the pickaxe from over one shoulder as he turned to face the approaching creature. It was quick, but like all his other opponents, save for that damnable grasshopper, it was predictable. The tip of his pickaxe took it on the left side of its body, piercing deep enough into the critter’s thick hide to reward Alexander with a squeal of pain.

At least now he was sure what the ‘Piercing’ special quality on the pickaxe did.

Both fortunately and unfortunately, the strike had buried the tip of the weapon far enough into the insect’s chitinous exterior that it was not easy to retrieve. While he couldn’t free his weapon, the insect was also halted in its advance, jaws snapping and drooling while the wooden handle of the pickaxe kept it further than arm's length.

The insect was strong. Each flailing drive of its limbs pushed him back a half step, its unexpected fury nearly topping Alexander before he managed to account for it. Once he was prepared, however, he reached a new stalemate with the creature. If he pried the weapon free, the cockroach would be on him before he could swing again. If he did not, the bug would be unable to advance.

For a moment he pondered leaving the weapon there, grinding its tip back and forth in the wound in an attempt to bleed out the cockroach. The idea was quickly discarded, however, as Alexander considered his weapon of choice. The pickaxe had a piercing quality, not a bleeding one.

If there was one thing his time in Blue Hills had already taught him, it was to assume that there was a rule or a mechanic for everything.

With bleeding the cockroach out of the question, Alexander’s mind wandered towards a new solution. His arms tested the weight of the cockroach, twisting the handle so that it hooked neatly into the fiend’s shell, then lifting with everything he was worth. The thing was heavy; too heavy, ungainly, and unruly for him to lift off the ground for any considerable length of time, but not so heavy that he couldn’t pick it up for at least a second or two.

Secure now in his plan, as it were, Alexander twisted again, drawing a shriek of annoyance, and then surprise from the vermin as he lifted it bodily from the ground. It flailed on the end of his pick, then cried in surprise and dismay as he slammed it first against the nearby wall, followed by another half turn of his pick as he drove the thing headfirst into the ground.

He’d hoped the wild ride would stun it, however momentarily, but that had proven to be wishful thinking. The moment it struck the earth the creature was writhing, struggling to turn itself from the precarious position on its back, to flip back over and continue its assault.

Alexander wouldn’t give it enough time.

He’d drawn his berretta the moment the un-roach had landed, and his finger tightened on the trigger again and again as the ungainly monstrosity tried to regain its proper footing. Bullet after bullet pumped into the creature’s exposed underbelly, until, with a final thrash and a shiver, it lay still.

Then Alex pulled the trigger twice more. Just to be sure.

As light began to pour from the creature’s numerous wounds, Alexander released the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. That had been far too close, as far as he was concerned. The regular monsters were bad enough on his nerves; the aberrant ones seemed almost designed to push him over the edge into a panicked mess. It was a wonder he’d kept his composure as well as he had.

With the creature still in the process of vanishing, Alexander took the opportunity to reload his weapon, retrieve his pickaxe, and take a quick glance at his Status Book. What he saw confirmed his suspicions. Each shot to the creature’s carapace had done a grand total of two points of damage, as a result of its Ultra Hard Shell ability. With luck, he’d never encounter another similar creature, but if he did, he at least knew for certain now that firing at its unexposed body was an exercise in futility.

At the same time, he’d also learned that under certain circumstances, a proper melee weapon was worth more to him than his firearm. And that special qualities could make or break combat with a fiend. The Ultraroach as his Status Book had titled it, wouldn't be the last aberrant monster he'd fight, which meant he ought to put a priority on researching some of the most common special qualities, both on monsters and on his own equipment, that he could find.

Maybe the town had a library?

“What I really need is a miniature Status Book.” Alexander mused to himself as he stooped to collect the crystallized remnants left in the roach’s wake. "Maybe go full Death Note and keep a piece in my..."

He blinked as though he'd just been slapped in the face. In a way, he had, by the most obvious idea imaginable.

It couldn't really be that simple, could it? Just tear a page, or even a piece of a page out of the book, and strap it to his wrist. He knew the book updated in real-time, not when he opened or closed it, and it wasn't like it used any sort of power source he could determine. Why shouldn't a page work, if separated from the book?

Of course, if he was wrong, then things could go very badly for him. Who knew how much it would cost to replace the book. If he even could replace the book. Hell, for all he knew the damn thing could explode if ripped out a page, or rip some weird tear in space-time and causality. No. Best not to mess with it.

Alexander started up again, moving towards the nearby stack of crystals, but only made it halfway before the niggling idea stuck at his mind once more. He needed that information, especially in a place like this. If Blue Hills was like a video game, then he was 'playing' it without access to the UI. The Ultraroach's durability had been easy enough to figure out, but what was going to happen when he came across something with a skill that wasn't so obvious?

The internal debate continued raging for some time, culminating with the book in his hands as Alexander held the edge of his Event Log between thumb and forefinger. The hardest part was getting that first, initial rip into the page. After that, the rest came away in a single loud rip that echoed off the mildewed walls.

"Well... I didn't blow up." He laughed nervously, trying to deny the two mounds of stress and tension that were his shoulders. "Let's see what you have to say."

First glance was disappointing, the page still listed the same fifty most recent events as before. Upon closer inspection, however, Alexander realized he was wrong. The same forty-nine events, and one brand new one.

Status Book - Damaged. Repair in 23:59:52.

The timer beside the new event ticked down in real-time as Alexander jumped for joy. He wasn't entirely sure how the book would be repaired in twenty-four hours, or if it would cost him anything when it was, but for the moment he considered the update a complete success. The page worked, which meant he finally had a way of tracking his events in real-time.

"Then again, if you hadn't been an idiot..." Alexander mused to himself with a chuckle. He quickly pushed the sour grapes thought out of his mind as he scooped the remaining crystals from the ground before him, delighted to see the spare page immediately update him:

Item Collected: Cryptictext (Aberrant Mysterious Green Crystal)

Item Collected: Cryptictext (Aberrant Mysterious Green Crystal)

So far the crystals had kept their mystery. Neither Belle nor Victor had been able to give a price for the crystals since neither had any use for the things and so far his only real clue was that the more powerful monsters dropped a similarly larger 'aberrant' mysterious crystal.

There had to be some use for them, he knew. But until he found someone or something that could tell him more, the crystals did little more than take up inventory space.

Maybe they’re used to help find coal veins. Alexander thought grimly as he pushed himself back to his feet. Half a day spent in the fiendholm, and he was no closer to finding a speck of coal than he had been the previous evening.