Time Since Reckless Self-Endangerment: 3 Days 21 Hours

Goal: Kill 'Baby Boots'

His spore-lob detonated as the beasts surged into him, and the first wave stumbled, their eyes and mouths filled with fire as the toxic spores dug in. He grabbed hold of a blinded tarantula’s head, swung himself aboard, and ran across the beast’s back.

They crashed into one another, blindly ripping and tearing with furious tooth and claw. The weakest were already beginning to drop, twitching violently as the spores ate away their nervous systems.

But there was no escape. A huge cicada slammed into Nic as he tried to leap off the tarantula’s back. It sent him rolling to the ground, barely able to get onto his feet before he was trampled beneath an oncoming beetle.

Nic was swept away by a tide of animal fury. As the peach tree began to grow, the animals of the desert erupted from the sands and began to fight tooth and nail over the heavenly scent it exuded. Enormous beetles smashed against each other, vying for dominance with their horns. Sand-ticks leaped and stabbed with their long stinging mouth-organs. It was a crash of titans, and Nic was lost in it-

Because he was enchanted by the scent as well. His higher Mental and Spiritual bases gave him some protection, but it still drifted through his world, reminding him how long it had been since he’d devoured his enemies and leapt forward through days of cultivation.

He wanted to fight.

He wanted to kill.

His blood boiled as a beetle crashed towards him, bucking upwards with its horn. He dropped back, escaping the horn’s deadly point and grabbing hold of the blunt sides with an adhesive-covered fist. He swung up as the momentum of the charge carried him high, and as he came back down, the tiger-claw became a blur of white in his hand, jabbing down to smash right into the point just above the beetle’s right eye.

Blood spurted out. The beast swung its head from side to side and Nic clung on until there was a safe chance to break away. He escaped just as a crocodile-headed drake slammed into the beast from above and began to tear into the beetle’s back with the cruel talons of its hindlegs, beating its wings for balance as it ripped and tore.

It was hectic. It was hell. Nic’s heart thrummed with passion for the moment.

A sand-tick dropped from above and Nic rolled between its legs as a long, tube-like mouth shot forward from between its bladed mandibles. It stabbed into the earth where he’d been, and Nic ripped his claws across the beast’s underside until he was showered with stolen blood from its belly.

An enormous desert mantis swept down to seize the tick, grasping it with scything claws and lifting it into the air to bite away a chunk of its skull with a horrendous ripping crunch. Nic slid to his feet, conjuring a rampway of sand with the blade on his back, and began to run up over the battle, his walkway being torn apart as thrashing bodies crashed into the sides.

He ran the last few steps over the backs and heads of the monsters, darting from one to the next like a living missile.

Nic was headed straight for the ancient rusting blade stuck into the lake like the flag of a conquering nation.

The mummified River-Drinker slammed into him from behind. Ancient, withered fingers grasped his slimy skin and began to suck the moisture clear, draining his soft body with a terrible feeling like being burned from within.

Nic screamed as the spirit pushed him against the ground and made sand crawl over his body, restraining him. With no choice but to summon the limited-use weapons he’d held in reserve, Nic swelled in size as the Wintertusk Bracer filled his body with strength. He burst free of the restraining sand and swung up a suddenly double-size fist, breaking the River-Drinker’s head into a buzzing flock of mosquitoes.

His mouth snapped open and Poison Mist turned the swarm into rot.

The rest of the River-Drinker turned and fled, turning to a swarm and buzzing through the air to reform several feet away. Its body had lost much of its shape and definition, like it was a picture that had been half-erased.

Spikes of sand began to erupt around Nic. His shield absorbed as much of the relentless volley as it could, but others slipped through, slashing against his toughened skin and drawing blood. He was being worn down by a volley of strikes that kept him from gathering forward momentum, just as he’d hunted the large, hapless beetles.

But he had a plan.

Unseen, behind the River-Drinker, a small column of sand rose up and smashed down. Thump.

Countless knives of sand ripped into his flesh. One speared him through the arm holding his shield, managing to cripple the limb. Another stabbed into his leg and brought him to one knee.

He raised another column and dropped it. Thump.

A spike shot for his throat and he smashed it to pieces with his tiger-claw. Another speared towards his heart and only his danger-sense warned him in time to guard. The block cost him another bone-deep gouge against his arm.

But his steady, rhythmic striking of the ground had drawn fruit. Just as the mummified River-Drinker prepared to launch another attack-

An enormous scorpion ripped out of the ground, grabbing with its jet-black claws for the creature’s back. It vanished instantly, dissolving into a swarm and fleeing on instinct.

But Nic was still in the fight. As the River-Drinker fled from his opponent, it fled towards him, and Nic kicked off into a thunderous sprint. He ignored the pain in his leg and burning throughout the body, ignored the exhaustion of the Wintertusk Bracer. Pure rage and the intoxicating bloodlust of the peach tree fueled him to break all limits as the shot forward.

The River-Spirit reformed.

And Nic’s claw was already hurtling towards its head.

With a brutal right hook he scattered the creature into a swarm of pests and sprayed Poison Mist into the flock, finally killing them, finally catching his opponent out. The hundreds of mosquitoes whined and cried as they were exterminated, and he swatted through the air to catch a few who almost got away.

“Nic, the sword.” Sofia’s voice chided, keeping him from being swept away entirely by the violent red thoughts that filled his mind.

“Right.” He croaked. The scorpion advanced on him, but he forced it back with a lance of Poison Mist, sweeping death and toxic fumes across the ground in a wide sweep that forced the idiot creature to scuttle backwards over the rocks. Turning his attention away, Nic seized the sword plunged into the center of the dry lake.

Ancient metal creaked and broke apart as he pulled upwards. The sword shattered into a dozen pieces, leaving the hilt in Nic’s hands. From below, there was a deep cracking sound.

And water geysered up into the air. The spray of white waters sparkled like a thousand diamonds as it lifted upwards, filling the air with cold, clear mists. It rained downwards and struck the parched earth, sinking into the cracks that ran across the ground and turning them into miniature rivers.

Nic grinned slowly.

And almost toppled over.

His wounds were just too much this time. The sun was still sinking, but Nic needed to rest, to regenerate. With a groan he released the Wintertusk Bracer and his exhaustion redoubled as the cost of using that destructive might hit home. For a moment his eyes went black.

Only the geyser protected him. The desert creatures were frightened of it in the way forest creatures feared the spark of fire.

He began to dig down, using his Sandrider Blade to carve a deep tunnel and a small cavern that connected to the geyser’s shaft. Water filled in his secret nest as he closed the way above him, leaving only the water to bring him oxygen as his gills opened fully. It was relaxing. He felt weightless in the comfortable dark.

If he didn’t have to worry about the Guardian of the Valley, he would have gone to sleep immediately. As it was the best he could do was curl into a ball and begin to cultivate, pushing Essence towards his wounds.

With the bounty of golden beetles to eat and the time passed, he was already full again. This time he devoted the full bounty of Essence to Regeneration. It wasn’t enough to be able to piece himself back together after battles anymore.

He needed to be able to grow faster than his opponents could kill him.

Essence 0 / 5,000

+ 12.97 per Minute

(2.162 Base)

500% Local Modifier

+ Devoured an F-Class enemy (200%)

+ Consumed a G-Class treasure (100%)

+ Rested in toxic environment (100%)

Cultivation Base (Unranked)

V Physical Strength (Locked)

III Mental Acuity (52/4,000)*

I Spiritual Clarity (94/1,000)*

Regeneration (6,658/10,000)

But for a moment, he just took pride in how far he’d come.

His regenerating, enduring body had allowed him to maintain a hectic and punishing pace. But it was Nic’s drive that had fueled him to leap from one near-death to the next. It was the simple joy of having escaped, having gotten out of City Layer d23 - of having broken free from a lifetime of being held back and stepped on.

Of having entered into his own story, the story of a cultivator who could live life as they pleased by their own strength.

Days ago he’d been a normal human, living a drab existence alongside millions of others. Unable to prove what he knew in his heart - that he had the strength and the convictions to be more.

Today he had new hands - albeit small, oddly pinkish ones - to seize life with. And he’d proved what he’d set out to prove. To himself if no-one else.

Nearly dying didn’t bother him. He’d spent most of his life a dead man walking towards a predestined grave. The gray of that death was a million times worse than a red death on this new Earth.

“Nic?” Sofia’s voice broke into his thoughts. “The sun is setting. We’d better find good ground to fight on.”

Nic nodded. It was time to meet the reaper of the valley.