Time Since Reckless Self-Endangerment: 1 Days 7 Hours

Goal: Kill 'Baby Boots'

The next day Nic set off for the dungeon.

Before he left he examined the flower in the old tree and found it would be just over a week before the barrier cracked open. That was more than enough time to leave and return.

He crafted a new pack, alongside a belt to hold four new spore-lob canisters and the tiger claw punching dagger. Since it would be a long trip, he decided to bring the wyvern with him, and the beast rode on his shoulders as he walked through the luminous forest.

As he crossed the scar left by the wildfire he noticed green life everywhere he looked. Stumps of charred ash were coming to life as new green shoots pushed from their dead wood. The ground was littered with short grasses like stubble. The wind no longer tasted of smoke, and thousands of flowers bloomed without the oppressive gloom of the canopy to keep them starved for sunlight.

It was a meadow now.

There were even new spiritual medicines, contained within pearly barriers. The sight of those ghostly bubbles had grown less common over the course of a few days- most of the medicinal fruits and plants in the forest had already shed their barriers, leaving only true treasures contained within. This burst of new growth gave him hope that the world would continue to thrive instead of being ripped clean by the coming Integration.

He was just filling his pack with some of the most common and unprotected flora when a noisy croak burst through the forest- followed by a thudding sound of impact. Instantly he dropped to all fours, slithering into the brush. Again the deafening croak sounded out- and this time Nic heard a human voice as well.

“Goddammit!”

Sliding forward, Nic came to a place where the trees were torn down to splintered stumps. A huge part of the fledgling growth coming up from the ash of the wildfires had been torn down again.

A man with an enormous wolf-tooth club stood in the middle of it all. He was bald, with a bare chest and skin that gleamed with sweat, tribal tattoos running down his arms.

Fighting him was an enormous lizard. Huge spikes of grey-green crystal hung from the beast’s flabby throat like a beard. Its head was covered in ridges of white horn. When it opened its mouth pink crests flared out from its neck and its jaws unhinged.

A spray of crystal spines shot from its throat.

Crystal-Spine Leaping Lizard. G-Class (Peak) // Sapient. While consigned to G-Class by its lack of Shards, the Crystal-Spine possesses a long-ranged ability to spray arrowheads of organic crystal and a swift, darting movement that make it a deadly predator even to creatures of higher classes.

The bald, sweating man was covered in crystalline arrows. They stabbed into his skin and covered his shiny flesh with trickling streams of blood. But with every movement his body bulged grotesquely and forced the spines back out. It was like they couldn’t penetrate him through the walls of his muscle.

He swung his club. A wave of force shot forward with an echoing boom. The saplings were torn apart and ash billowed into the air as the lizard leapt backwards to evade the shockwave.

It landed and sprayed out crystals again before quickly darting aside, dodging as the club came swinging down like a guillotine. More ash was tossed into the sky. The whole battlefield was choking in it.

From the scrawny cover of the flowers Nic grimaced.

This wasn’t his fight and he wouldn’t intervene, but it was an ugly thing to watch. The lizard was forced to constantly evade, showering its opponent with quick, darting attacks that did little damage. Over time they might finally add up and bring the brute down from bloodloss but…

The weaker combatant only had to make one mistake.

The brute was in a comparatively good position. As long as he kept swinging, he was wearing his opponent down. Each massive blow of the heavy club seemed to take no effort at all. There were two Shards embedded in his back, and they glowed with a fiery red light.

Marcus Neumer. F-Class // Sapient. A weightlifter and amateur fighter, Marcus has embraced the new order of the world with joy. Finding his passion in destruction, he fights with clumsy, headlong methods.

One of them was fighting for survival. One of them was fighting for the joy of fighting.

There were lots of stories about desperate, cornered animals being the most dangerous. Maybe that was true in some sense. But in Nic’s experiences, the humans who were most dangerous were the ones who enjoyed putting their lives on the line.

The ones who would sink themselves into the fight again and again to feel their blood race.

He had been one of them.

As he watched the club came swinging down. The lizard was moments slow to respond, maybe finally running out of stamina as the fight dragged on.

Nic could already see what would happen.

The very edge of the shockwave struck against the lizard’s leg and tail, swatting it from the air and sending it tumbling to the ground. Before the beast could recover, the brute had darted forward, each step punching a crater into the soft ash-covered earth.

He loomed over the fallen creature. His club lifted skywards.

Nic turned aside but still heard the small, fleshy crunch beneath the crashing blow.

When he turned back the man was doubled over to his knees, clutching his club for support as it stuck out of the ground. The lizard had been crushed to a bloody pulp in the crater of the blow. Sweat ran in rivers from the brute’s face as he grinned and laughed and revelled in his triumph, beginning to peel shards of crystal shrapnel from his chest.

Then he moved forward and Nic realized why the lizard hadn’t just run away.

A small clutch of large, oblong-blue eggs was buried in the sand. Several of them had already broken open, but the man grabbed the largest one and began to crack it with his fingers, pouring the rich yolk down his throat.

Something twitched in the ash. Nic and the brute saw it at the exact same time.

A tiny juvenile lizard, fresh from its egg, was hiding in the ash. It shivered with its whole body. Terrified beyond being able to flee.

Nic froze.

He knew exactly where the System found the minds for newborn monsters.

They came from orphanages just like his.

“Well well… Hold still little buddy, just…” The brute’s hand loomed over the tiny creature. No doubt killing a child was as good as killing an adult in the System’s eyes. So long as you killed, that was enough. “C’mere!”

His hand shot forward. An earthen spike erupted from beneath, slamming through his palm.

As the man screamed Nic lifted the point of his spear and leapt forward. He struck twice, not making the mistake the lizard did and trying to keep his distance. It would be easier to evade the club than the shockwaves it sent out.

His spear flicked across the man’s chest once, but the second time the brute’s hand shot up to catch the spear. With a crunch he crushed the flint point with his bare fingers, blood running out between the knuckles.

“Nasty little…” With a roar the brute picked up his club. “RUNT!”

The blow moved so fast through the air that Nic could barely slip away. It shook the earth and sent ash flying. Nic raised his shield to keep the billowing dust from clouding his eyes.

The second strike came slashing low and horizontal across the ground. Nic leapt over it, using his sticky tongue to grasp the man’s face and yank himself forward through the air. His claw struck out and cleaved a brutal line across the brute’s brow and cheek-

Ripping out an eye.

He dropped to the ground and ducked the clumsy backhanded swipe as the man screamed in agony and struck out blindly. He began to retreat, pouring mist from his mouth.

So far he’d focused on Poison Mist’s use as a killing tool. Now, with ash filling the air in a black cloud, he simply focused on the ‘mist’ part. Harmless smog flooded outwards and filled the air around them to choke visibility.

Nic stepped carefully, not wanting the crunch of fallen ash or charred grass to give him away. Not until he was ready. He could see the brute’s shadow moving in the fog, searching for him.

He struck his claws together to make a sound.

A shockwave ripped forward and tore through the air where he’d been. The man was half-blind, furious, and completely out of self-control.

Nic led him away from the nest step by step.

The smoke and mist shivered around them as blow after blow scythed the air with shockwaves. On the defensive now, Nic was simply waiting for the battle to move far enough away from the nest. He palmed a spore-lob into his hand, at the ready.

“OVER HERE!” He called, the words coming out as a croaking ribbit.

The brute shot forward. He clawed and ripped his way from the fog, streamers of black smoke clinging to his body as his one eye stared out madly.

The club swung.

Nic took it head on. Lifting his shield he trusted his new strength to absorb the blow, the shockwave slamming into the shield and sending him skidding backwards for a solid dozen feet. His whole arm ached, every bone rattled in its socket, but the shield held and so did he.

The man blinked his one eye in confusion.

There was a small bamboo canister stuck to his club.

Nic raised a hand and waved goodbye as the spore-lob detonated, covering the man in choking spores. He coughed and spasmed and dropped to his knees, clutching his throat. The club landed on the ground with a brutal thud.

In the aftermath, Nic went and found the baby lizards. There were three of them, huddled together in the dust and shaking like leaves. He bent down and ran his curled finger through their soft, nubbly horns, soothing them.

The little wyvern ran down his arm to play with them, happily clambering over the larger lizards to establish dominance.

Nic laughed, digging a fruit out of his pack and cutting it into slices for the little creatures to nibble at together.

But that was all he could do.

His home was poisonous, and his fighting style sprayed it in all directions. Sooner or later any creature that stuck by his side would be caught in the backwash. Simply luring the brute far enough away from the nest for him to use a spore-lob had changed the fight from one that ended in a simple, easy surprise kill to a drawn out encounter.

Sadly, he shooed them away into the wilds. They would have to survive on their own.

At least they had each other.

Returning to the man, he carefully pried the twin Shards from the brute’s spine. One of them came away badly damaged, but with his growing experience he was able to extract a nearly pristine crystal the second time.

Warp-Spasm Shard. F-Class // Secondary. This shard contains purest Essence attuned to the concepts of titans and strength. It has been damaged by the death of its previous owner and cannot serve as a Primary Shard, and due to a low quality, the skill resulting from Synthesis may be difficult to advance. Well suited to forming a Heroic Core or a Monstrous Core.

Farblade Shard. F-Class // Secondary. This shard contains purest Essence attuned to the concepts of sword-soul, horizons, and violence. It has been damaged by the death of its previous owner and cannot serve as a Primary Shard. Well suited to forming a Blade Core, a Warpath Core, or a Wind Core.

Nic frowned. Was the only way to get a Primary Shard to extract it from a still living monster? The first Shard had basically lost its shape and become a rough star of amber-colored quartz after he extracted it, but the second was almost unblemished, a hexagonal fragment of onyx with only a single crack.

Yet they were both rated as Secondary.

He didn’t need a new Primary now, but he might after evolving, and they’d certainly be worth more in trade.

Shaking his head, he searched the man’s body briefly for any loot and found a small pouch of round golden pills that Archive Recall identified as Spirit Purifying Pills for cultivating. Trying to lift the club, he quickly realized it was only possible if you had simply monstrous strength.

But that was alright.

Satisfied with his gains and what little good he’d been able to do today, Nic ventured on.