Day 2.1

“That’s one of them down,” August said, holding the [Flint Axe] out in front of him.

The knowledge the new blueprint had gifted him contained more targeted knowledge on how to firm up the bind, and the vine was now wound tightly around the head of the axe, in a crossed pattern.

There was a sense of satisfaction brimming in him now like there had been after making the shelter and fire. He’d made this shitty axe with his own two hands, from materials he’d scavenged from the ground around him—August had never even considered himself capable of something like this before he’d arrived here.

“What do you think, Ladybug?” August said, but the monster seemed more interested in messing about in his woodpile. “Pretty impressive, huh?”

He placed the axe down on his left and then set about sorting through the wood as well.

August’s took hold of a thicker branch and set it in front of him, using his [Flint Knife] to debark a short section near the thickest end. He pinned it to the ground with his feet and lifted his newly made [Flint Axe].

He adjusted his feet to make sure he wasn’t about to cut off any toes and then swung it down onto the branch with a thunk. It left a line in the wood, and there hadn’t been much wiggle in the head, much less than he’d thought there might be. It took half a hundred weak swings to get most of the way through the branch, but in the end, he was left with a six-inch piece of a thick branch.

He set it aside to use for the hand of the chisel and then went back to work debarking the rest of the offcut. His [Flint Knife] was started to show signs that it wasn’t quite as sharp as it had used to be, and he ended up having to switch to one of the other shards he’d made earlier.

Once all the bark was stripped, August placed the long branch down by the others, intending to use it as the handle for the shovel. He fell back onto the ground with his arms spread out, fingers aching from all of his efforts.

The static nature of his surroundings had a sort of stillness about it that made it feel like time was frozen. The calmness of the water and the lack of substantial breeze left the clouds above as the only real thing that was moving. Ladybug shattered the bubble of stopped time with a chirp, and August sat back up, facing the creature.

The topmost spike emerging from its body was noticeably askew, and almost without thinking about it, he found himself reaching out to set it straight, and with a click, it reseated itself.

“Hey, Ladybug,” August said. “You kill things for sport, don’t you? Does that include the other [Efkini]?”

Ladybug, of course, had no idea what he was saying, so the answer it gave was entirely unrelated to his question. The spike he’d reseated popped out again and then spilled down over the side as the chain lengthened until it stabbed tip first into the ground—August scrunched his nose up in annoyance, unsure why it even bothered him.

He reached out again, more carefully this time, and picked up the end of the chain by the spike. It was definitely heavier than it should have been, and he couldn’t help but imagine how much more durable it would be than any rock he’d find in the forest.

If he could direct Ladybug into hunting down another one of its kind somehow, he could attempt to render whatever she killed down to useful parts. The fur on its body would probably be a good start towards some decent clothing or even a blanket. The spikes could be used to upgrade his spear to something actually dangerous, and while he didn’t have anything in mind for the chain right now, it would probably end up being the most useful resource he could get his hands on.

There was a risk to that plan, though, because from what he could see, Ladybug was a young monster, and compared to some of the levels he’d seen already [Level 3] was on the lower end. It might not be capable of actually killing another of its kind without getting killed itself, and that wasn’t a loss he could tolerate right now.

August wondered what exactly granted the creature [EXP] and how he might engineer some method to allow the thing to grind out some levels; that’s if the level system even worked like that in the first place.

Was there a direct correlation between power and level gain? The expanded menu had shown that [P. Attack] was far above the other listed information, and given the available context, it most likely referred to the physical attack power the monster possessed. The chains were probably responsible for that disparity, and its ability to thrust them towards a target—flesh would fair much worse against those spikes than the durable wood of the trees had.

[Analysis].

Level 3

Healthy

MP – 62/3

EXP – 93/300

ATTACK – 60

M. ATTACK – 5

P. DEFENSE – 5

M. DEFENSE – 5

AGILITY – 12

Last he’d seen, Ladybug’s [EXP] bar had only been [23/300], and not much had happened to the monster since then. It had spent almost that entire time simple shadowing him as he went about his business. Did it receive experience towards a level up by actively guarding him? If that was the case, it wouldn’t be long before it levelled up, and he’d be able to see just how a thing like that affected the listed attributes.

August navigated back to the menu he’d seen last night that listed his own progress towards a level and was surprised to find it had moved substantially.

Skill Points – 0

475/500 EXP

He was basically on the cusp of a level, and he was surprised to find it provided a great deal of motivation towards getting back to work on crafting his tools—that was the most likely source of the experience gain, between making the [Flint Axe], and making the handles for the shovel and the chisel respectively.

August dumped his accumulated flint onto the ground and set about selecting some useful sized pieces to use as the tip for the chisel. His knowledge of making the [Flint Tools] came with some interesting techniques for this. Instead of breaking off more shards, he was leaning towards using one of the smaller stones as it was. He removed a larger flat rock he’d dumped in his inventory earlier and sat it in front of him on the ground before pushing himself back to his feet.

August stepped over the mess he’d made and moved towards the lake. He took a moment to keep himself hydrated before scooping up some water in his hands and then ferrying it back to his rock. The water drained away like a bucket with a leaky hole, but he managed to keep enough of it to wet the rock, leaving a rough, muddy film on the top side.

He took his selected chisel stone and then began to grind it against the rough stone—that was the other method. Shaping the piece of flint down into a thicker, blunter, but far less brittle edge by grinding it against the stone. After a minute or so of scraping the rocks together, August turned it over in his hand to check his progress and was disheartened to see it had barely done a thing.

“This is going to take a while,” August sighed.