Chapter 30

...

[Floor 4 – Day 1]

[Total Days in Trial: 117]

[Win The Second Fight] - 0/1

[Status]

Name: John

Attributes

Class: Disciple – Skills: 4/7

Titles:

Perks:

Strength:

18

-

Lesser Analysis

Dexterity:

16

Archery 16

Constitution:

23

Resist Poison 23

Intelligence:

10

-

Wisdom:

16 [+2]

Meditation 13

Lesser Heal 12 - (Miracle)

Wise man of the Mountains

Charisma:

11 [+0]

-

Ambitious [INACTIVE]

Adventurer's Spirit

Free

1

- - -

As the gate rose higher, I tried to bring my breathing pattern back under control. Yet, no matter how I focused on it, things just weren't quite where I needed them to be. The pace of my breathing was still thrown off by the two dire needs of my body, both working direct competition of one another. Much to my dismay, I was finding that my lungs were just not capable of effectively fueling my body with both Mana and oxygen at the same time. At least, not after so much heavy fighting.

I was breathing too quickly.

Mana, generally seemed to work better if I took it slow. I could try to rush it and cheat this a little, but doing so never worked for long. Only if I was patient, if I efficiently took every little bit of useful nature from the air in my lungs and I held onto the concept of wasting nothing, did I find that I could make steady progress. My habit of applying this method day in and day out, generally meant that it was easy for me. But, with my heart still beating rapidly, and my whole body coming to terms with that brutal fight: It was clear that I currently didn't have such a luxury.

Every time I inhaled, the air was being burnt out much too quickly. What I might normally stretch beyond a minute while resting, was barely lasting me ten seconds. Twenty seconds, if I wanted to make myself see spots and almost fall over.

This was going to be difficult. There was no sugar-coating it.

Across the arena, I could see the second gate being raised was taking a long time. Perhaps, intentionally so. From the crowd's reaction to it, I had to guess whatever was going to come out of the tunnel would be nasty. Everyone in the audience seemed to be looking forward to the show. And what a show it was going to be, considering that my group was already down over half of the people we'd started with. Our fighting force was not in peak numbers or condition.

I wasn't sure how this was going to work out for us. I assumed badly. At a rough guess, I figured if they repeated the Goblins a second time, we were all going to die.

I almost hoped they did, because at least with Goblins I was sure to take a bunch of them down with me.

That sentiment of mine seemed to be shared by the others. The men in my group were a stoic bunch, and they weren't facing down the bitter end in poor form. Despite what we were all faced with, no one seemed to be openly sobbing in terror, or begging for mercy. The men who had fought on their own, far away from the rest of the group when the Goblins had come for us, had finally all grouped up closer. Though they eyed one another in an unspoken and uneasy truce, it seemed that we would all be working as a team this time. The men who were badly wounded, especially: I saw several of them embracing the concept of teamwork, as most of the more gravely injured lined up next to the shields.

Almost directly in the center of the arena, I wasn't quite sure my best move would be from here. I had maintained my position, remaining only a few paces away from the "Captain" Dzamil and his men. They seemed to be my best bet at surviving, but I knew that could change depending on what we were fighting next. Plus, there was a real chance that this could all spiral out of control. We were participating in gladiator combat, after all. My current allies might not stay allies, and for all I knew this could end up in a situation where it was every man for himself. And if that was the case, they were as much a liability as they were a benefit. Especially the "Captain." Just one swing of that club in my direction, and I would be out of commission.

Still, I had no intention of trying to fight alone if I could help it. My limits had already been pushed to the brink, just dealing with the Goblins. It was much better to stick near the group. Terrible as it was, I needed to clear this floor if I wanted to live. And if that meant hiding behind others, I was willing to stoop that low.

Each Floor so far had been entirely new. The scenarios I encountered had not repeated and I suspected that I might never see any of these men again once the 4th Floor was over. It wasn't something that came naturally to me, but I had to remind myself that my morals needed to sit off on the side-lines. Especially when it came to life or death: I couldn't think of other people. I couldn't worry about right and wrong. The men around me might be just as living and breathing as I was, but they were also a part of the 4th Floor. It didn't matter if they survived this or not: They were not going to be coming with me if I survived this.

I did wonder what would happen to them, though.

If I managed to survive and move on towards the 5th Floor, did this world continue? Or was it all wiped away, the second I left? Althought neither of those outcomes seemed like they were worth mentally wrestling with, I did briefly consider them. Ultimately though, I decided that regardless of the truth, deep existential questions could wait for some other time.

Letting my mind wander a bit, I skimmed along the menu, and I noted my single remaining "Free" point. The last remaining reservoir of power I could drop into whatever Attribute I wanted.

Times like this, I wished I'd been able to take a different perk.

It was a stupid wish, really. If I had taken 15 points in Strength, things would obviously be very different. I would have died, for starters. But even saying I somehow hadn't, and I'd just headed directly towards the mountain at a dead-sprint, climbed it, and moved to the second floor to kill a bunch of Goblins: there would have been no way I could have taken my time. There would have been no slowing down on the Floors. I would have been trapped in a huge rush, planning for nothing but how to get to the next clear condition. Which meant that all of my accumulating Attributes the hard way, probably wouldn't have happened. And I would have never have earned my Disciple Class, or any of my Skills apart from Poison Resistance.

No, simply wishing I'd been able to just rushed to 25 Strength and crushed everything in front of me, was foolish. It really was... But damn: If imagining how nice it would be to just pick up a giant club and smash my way through the [Trial] didn't make me wonder what it might have been like.

There was probably a way to get through like that. By specializing in one Attribute over all the others, and even with just a few extra Attribute points from the most basic Floor objectives... I had been guessing that was how people who were successful in the [Trial] had cleared their way. Especially if they had the added luxury of slowing down and grinding the rest of their Attributes.

Maybe, if I survived this, I thought I could start trying to do something similar. I could pick a specific focus, and instead of just being a well-rounded set of Attributes, I could start piling points into one category. Get myself a real edge I could use to secure further clears, as I continued... The Menu screen floated by, willed about by mental prodding.

My status wasn't particularly inspiring.

I had to admit, with my Constitution, at least I was... resilient. I could take a beating, for certain, but that didn't make up for my lack of real combat abilities. All that really meant was my body was made of tougher stuff than it used to be. The bites and scratches from the Goblins might have been lethal for me as I was on the 1st Floor, but here on the 4th I'd been left with superficial wounds, instead. I'd literally had a Goblin gnawing on my arm, and it hadn't just snapped right through. Which, based on what happened to some of the less-fortunate others I'd seen in the arena, is likely what should have happened to me.

But stacking more into Constitution didn't seem like a great plan.

I didn't hate the fact I was presently built to take a beating. It was better than being dead, without a doubt. I just couldn't help but find that a good offense was better than an okay-ish defense. And I just couldn't consider Constitution to be a particularly beneficial Attribute, when I might be facing off against something that could just kill me outright. There were dangers present on the Floors that were just too much to try and endure, and as much as I tried to avoid it, the [Trial] so far had seemed to be focused on combat. Which made my current limits were frustrating. The temptation to spend that last point in Strength, just to be done with it, was very real.

Still, I was waiting on that.

The power I'd gained in dropping so many free Attribute points at once was still weaving itself into place. I could feel it working, sinking into my flesh. Stinging pricks of pins and needles were all but soaking along my nerves. The light-headed giddiness from so much change at once, had me feeling a bit dazed, as well.

I wasn't sure adding more to this was a great idea. It was pretty clear to me that I was still undergoing the adjustment to the sudden improvements. Too much at once, might be trouble.

Normally, my increases came few and far between. The large majority of those points I'd earned had been the product of training for long periods of time. This sudden change in Strength, almost made me feel... awkward. Unpracticed in how to move my body, even. As I swung my spear, it felt too forceful. As I shifted my balance, I almost overstepped. I was acclimating, but the feeling was very strange, and not at all what I wanted to be worrying about right before a fight.

Letting the Menu fall away with a light mental shove, I held off the urge to drop that final point in with the rest. Better to hold onto the last free point, I decided. While I could use it could give me one more burst of Strength before a coming fight, the point could also give me another advantage, and I felt better waiting until I was absolutely certain I would use it on what I needed... Even if I was pretty sure I knew I would end up putting it into Strength, regardless.

It was almost time.

As the crowd's cheers rose louder and louder, my breathing was still way off where I would have liked it to be. The Miracle I was stuck waiting on, couldn't come too soon. Just one fight in, and I felt like I'd just survived hell. My body was feeling every little bit of it. The bites, the scratches, and the bruises, all painfully set into their places. Even if I was built of hardy stuff, I knew this was the kind of pain I'd be feeling for awhile without some form of mystical or magical intervention. Muscles I pushed too hard, joints that might have torn a little bit.

I flinched, as I tried to roll my shoulders. My left knee felt a little swollen, and flexing caused me catch my breath with a hiss. The Goblins had gotten me a lot more banged up than I'd realized. Breathing in deep again, I felt for Lesser Heal, but it still wasn't quite ready. Despite my best efforts, I'd be heading into whatever came next in rough shape.

And whatever it was, was almost here.

The gate clanged, locked open at last. From down the tunnel, something large was moving. It didn't announce itself, as the Goblins had, but I could hear the sound of a chain, and metal scraping on stone. The silent approach of danger...

"Oh, the gods have abandoned us." One of the wounded men dropped to his knees, clasping his hands together. His leg was bleeding badly from a stab wound of some sort. "Sky above, mercy."

So much for the stoic bravery. I wondered if he knew something I didn't.

"Oh, have mercy. Have Mercy." He continued. "Gods, please."

"Gods have nothing to do with this." I heard Dzamil say, turning to look towards the thrones. "Make your peace, quickly."

I followed his sight, swallowing at the sight of those figures. Even with the second battle about to begin, the pressure waiting on those thrones was cataclysmic. Everything in the arena was just child's play compared to whatever they might be capable of, and I didn't even want to think what would have happened to me if I'd chosen Ambitious for this Floor. That title was starting to feel a lot more like a curse than a boon, and I had to wonder if it was a part of why so many Selected in the [Trial] were dead.

"Opportunities for additional growth, my ass." I muttered, earning a few startled looks from the men nearby.

"Ready yourselves." Dzamil commanded. "It comes for us."

With our weapons raised, our ragtag group faced the coming danger as a somewhat-unwilling band of comrades. One that might split apart on a second's notice, as people sought to save their own skin. Still, I felt reassured as the massive club lifted to Dzamil's shoulder and the shield wall formed up once more. Getting into a rough imitation of a defensive sword stance, I prepared my spear.

The rattling of a metal chain, stopped. Something waited, just at the edge of the gate. It hid in the shadows, right beyond the threshold, where sunlight met the darkness of the tunnel. But even hidden there, I could make out enough of what it was to send a shiver down my spine.

The [Trial] had been funny about things. Though I'd been stupid about it, and I had bit off way more than I could chew with the Ambitous title: The original 2nd Floor had probably been intended as a basic introduction to combat. If the 1st Floor had been to test if I was willing and able to continue, the 2nd Floor had been meant to test my resolve to fight. And the 3rd Floor... the 3rd Floor had been an extension of that to some degree. Instead of just one specific enemy I needed to fight, the [Trial] had tested my ability to choose what I was (or wasn't) ready for. It had shown me things that were entirely beyond my limits, and even dangled things that I might almost be prepared for, if I worked hard.

So, I felt a memory bubbling up. Of a Quest on the 3rd Floor I had seen, briefly considered, and decided would be far too dangerous for me to take. One I'd shaken my head at, just thinking about how stupidly risky it sounded.

There were scales in that tunnel.

The second battle opened, not with screeching, but with fire.