Zeke’s war club crashed against the full-grown troll’s ribs, and he was rewarded with the sound of bones cracking. Before he’d upgraded his race, he never would’ve heard it, but now, he could tell how many had broken and how severely they’d been fractured. Two had snapped in half, while three more were merely cracked. Given the troll’s durability, that wasn’t such a bad result.

He had been stalking through the caves for more than a week since he’d acquired his club, and in that time, Zeke had come to feel practically invincible. He had killed dozens of adolescent trolls, in addition to twice as many larvae, and none of them had proved even the least bit challenging. Most were felled by a single swing of his mighty club, and none lasted more than two. Despite cutting a path of murder through the caves, he hadn’t gotten another level, leaving him stuck at level three.

His trek through the cave system made it clear that it was quite a bit more elaborate than he’d first expected. He’d covered mile after mile of the tunnels, and he still hadn’t discovered the exit. More, he was certain that he’d ascended at least a couple of miles, but still, he felt that the surface was far away. In short, he’d resigned himself to being stuck in the caves for the foreseeable future. Perhaps this new world was all underground. He had no way of knowing, so he’d long since decided to push such thoughts from his mind. However, Zeke’s intuition told him that, so long as he kept putting one foot in front of the other, he’d find his way to the surface. So, that’s precisely what he did, killing one troll after another along the way – which is how he found himself facing off with a trio of full-grown monsters.

For a troll, progressing through adolescence seemed to entail a massive growth spurt, and unlike the younger examples, these fully grown trolls towered over Zeke by six inches or more, and they likely outweighed him by at least half. Their green, sporadically scaled bodies were densely packed with muscle, and their long arms dangled half-again further than they would on a similarly sized human. Their legs were still a bit short compared to their torsos, but all-in-all, they were extraordinarily imposing from a physical standpoint.

Or they would’ve been for most people. For Zeke, though, he could only feel a sense of excitement because with their growth came a couple of extra levels, and he hoped that would be enough to get him enough experience to progress to level four. Provided he could actually kill the things, that is.

The other major difference between the trolls he’d already killed and the ones he faced now was more annoying than dangerous. For now, at least. More than once, he’d already felled each of the trolls in front of him, but after only a few seconds, they’d managed to heal from whatever wound he managed to inflict, and it wasn’t long after that they would rejoin the fight.

Was it the mushrooms they fed on as larva? They’d given Zeke ten extra vitality, so it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that they’d do the same for the trolls, especially considering it was their primary source of sustenance. However, Zeke had seen the effect of vitality, and he knew that a mere ten couldn’t account for such rapid healing. If he had to guess, he would’ve put their vitality at double his own thirty-eight. At least. Probably closer to triple.

Their rapid healing aside, the trolls were a lot stronger than their younger brethren, as well, which meant that when they attacked Zeke, he felt it, even when he blocked their strikes. If he failed to block, he inevitably picked up wounds, despite his high endurance. Luckily, these three didn’t have weapons. Instead, they fought with their inch-long claws. Dangerous, to be sure, but unless Zeke made a huge mistake and let them get a solid blow, the claws wouldn’t be enough to fatally injure him.

He hoped.

Already, his body sported a dozen long lacerations, and there was a huge chunk of his shoulder missing from when one of the trolls managed to latch on with his crocodilian teeth. And despite the effects of [Leech Strike] and his high vitality and endurance, Zeke could feel that the accumulation of so many injuries was beginning to wear him down. Meanwhile, the trolls seemed mostly unaffected by the many times he’d managed to connect with his club. The only benefit seemed to be that they were hesitant to close within range, proving that while they might be able to miraculously heal from the injuries he’d inflicted, they weren’t invulnerable to pain. Having your ribs caved in by a club couldn’t have felt good, and the trolls were loath to reexperience it. Zeke could certainly sympathize with the monsters, given how often his own body had been broken in the month or so since he’d been reborn. Their real mistake was letting their fear of pain affect them, which Zeke strove not to do. He wasn’t always successful, but at least he recognized it as a weakness, which was the first step toward conquering it.

Zeke withdrew his club from where it had collided with the lead troll’s ribs, immediately redirecting it in a horizontal swing toward another. The troll reacted quickly, leaping back to try to avoid the deadly club, but Zeke still clipped it. The swing held enough force to spin the hulking creature around, but not enough to truly harm the thing – the story of the fight, so far. The biggest problem was that, while Zeke had incredible stats for his level and at least some proficiency with the bat-like club, he’d never been trained as a fighter. He could swing with great force, and he usually hit what he was aiming for, but in a fight, that was only part of the equation. Fighting with a club wasn’t just about swinging as hard as you could. It was about angles, anticipation, and timing – characteristics Zeke sorely lacked. Until now, he’d been able to simply overpower his foes. But the fully grown trolls were strong enough to make that impossible.

But as much as Zeke felt like he was banging his head against a wall – sometimes, while having his head literally banged against a wall – he persisted. Could he have retreated? Maybe. The trolls weren’t terribly fast, and if he managed to knock them down, his escape would be all but assured. However, Zeke’s time in the caves had fostered in him a stoic inability to surrender, even when the results seemed inevitable. He’d fought one battle after another, against the trolls, the concoction that had evolved his race, and against the very situation that seemed intent on killing him, and after a couple of months, he’d been reforged into an entirely different person. A nearly feral being who, when pushed, simply couldn’t fathom giving up. So, he forged ahead, swinging his club with all his might.

Zeke wasn’t a beast, though, and despite giving himself to a more primal nature, he wasn’t unthinking – which was why, when he swung, he’d aimed for the one target the troll in front of him couldn’t easily regrow. The club connected with the monster’s overlarge head just below its sharply tapered ear. Driven forward by Zeke’s superhuman strength, it crashed into the side of the troll’s head with truly epic force. While the trolls’ healing ability was off the charts, their endurance wasn’t anything special, so the impact caved its skull in with relative ease, sending chunks of bone and brain matter to splatter against the tunnel’s wall. The rest of the troll’s body soon followed, driven by the momentum of Zeke’s strike to crash against the rocks. A surge of energy told Zeke that he’d killed it, and for the first time in weeks, he actually felt like he’d progressed in his level. It wasn’t enough to push him over the top, but the energy was significant, nonetheless.

The possibility of gaining a level sparked a renewed sense of vigor within him, and Zeke soon followed up his fatal strike with another swing aimed at the next troll’s head. However, the monster danced backward with an agility that belied its large frame. Creatures that big shouldn’t have been capable of moving so quickly, he thought, but he didn’t let up. Instead, he followed that swing with another, hitting the troll’s upper arm. The troll let out a curiously high-pitched scream of pain as the bone cracked, and the force of the blow broke the skin. The damage was truly negligible, though, negated by the troll’s insane vitality.

But that didn’t mean Zeke let up. Instead, he grabbed ahold of his inhuman stamina and agility, forcing the speed of his attacks to new heights. His giant club wasn’t precisely a blur – it was far too big and unwieldy for that – but the difference was noticeable, and before long, the troll was pressed against the cave wall by his furious assault.

The advantage couldn’t last, though. If he’d been facing off against a single enemy, he’d have beaten the thing down without much trouble. But even with one of the trolls having his skull crushed in, there was still a third who’d been recuperating on the ground. Until he wasn’t.

Zeke’s back erupted into agony as the third troll raked its claws down his back, gashing deep and raking against his ribs. Immediately. Blood erupted from the wounds, but the troll wasn’t finished. Another slash. Then another, slicing him to ribbons, all in the space of a second. In his mind, he’d once compared the troll larva to wolverines or badgers due to their ferocity, and it seemed that age hadn’t robbed their older brothers of their savagery.

He cried out in pain, spinning around, his club leading the way. But by this point, his attacker had already sprung away to safety, and the war club missed by nearly a foot. What’s more, as soon as he turned his back, the other troll leapt into the fray, its own claws doing a fair imitation of its companion’s. Soon, Zeke’s back was a ragged mess of bloody ribbons of flesh. He ignored the agony. After all, anything else would lead to his demise. And he’d long since mastered the art of suffering. Still, the pain did push him to his limits; he was only human, and the human mind can only take so much pain before it begins to shut down completely.

Gritting his teeth, Zeke sidestepped and turned as he tried to reposition himself so that the trolls could only attack from one direction. It took a few seconds, during which he had to dodge another few attacks, but eventually, he found himself facing off against the pair.

Pain was such a strange thing. In some cases, it was crippling, completely overwhelming a person until they could no longer function. In others, it ignited a fire within them, spurring them to feats they otherwise could never have accomplished. But a scant few people were able to simply push that pain into the background. They still felt it, but they didn’t let it affect their actions.

History is full of tales of such people. From gladiators of old to modern athletes, stories of men and women who kept going despite grievous injuries abound. A soldier who gets shot a half-dozen times, but still manages to drag his comrades to safety. A football player who plays a game with multiple broken ribs or a punctured lung. A track star who manages to break a world record despite a broken bone in his foot. Some people are simply built differently, and in the right situations – or the wrong ones, depending on how a person looks at it – they can truly show just how unique they are.

Zeke had always been one of those people. As a child, when his father had taught him how to block errant pitches by repeatedly throwing baseballs at him, he’d been forced to learn the value of endurance. And given that his father hadn’t let him wear any equipment, there was also an added lesson in pain tolerance.

People had always called him tough. And maybe that was true, but Zeke didn’t really see it that way. He’d just been cursed with a father who’d pushed him to develop the ability to endure far past what a normal person could be expected to endure so he could accomplish his goals. His time in the caves had only reinforced that lesson, and it had unwittingly become a mainstay of his fighting mentality.

He wouldn’t let something as simple as a ruined back stop him. Not so long as he had breath in his body. So, with an audible growl, he resumed his barrage, pelting the trolls with one blow after another. Bones cracked. Chunks of flesh went flying. And the agonized wails of his opponents echoed through the cave. Still, he pressed on, looking for the opening that would let him finish the fight.

Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into more than an hour, eventually sapping even him of his strength. The trolls were no better off, and as sharp as their claws were, they’d grown so exhausted that they couldn’t muster enough force to puncture Zeke’s tough skin. More than ever, he knew he could flee. He could run away, recuperate, and come back to fight another day. The trolls were in no condition to follow, so his escape was almost assured.

But Zeke didn’t have it in him. And besides, he was winning.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than the trolls acted. One swung for his face, a blow Zeke instinctively raised his club to block. A searing agony erupted in his stomach an instant later as the other troll took advantage of the opening and slashed its claws across his stomach, disemboweling him. It must’ve used every ounce of its remaining strength, but it was enough for its claws to puncture his abdominal wall and rip into his intestines.

Zeke screamed in mingled terror and pain, his club arcing out instinctively. It crushed the first attacker’s skull, sending it flying into its companion. But by then, the damage had been done. Zeke looked down to see his insides snaking out of his stomach; it almost looked like a bloody sausage casing. Immediately, he clapped his hand over the grievous wound, stuffing his intestines back where they belonged.

The final troll rose to its knees and glared at him. It barked unintelligibly, but Zeke didn’t hear it. He wasn’t thinking as he stepped forward, his bare feet crunching on the loose, scattered rocks that made up the cave floor. Then, gathering strength he didn’t know he still had in him, Zeke hefted the club with one hand before sending it crashing down on the kneeling troll. It blocked with crossed arms, eliciting a sickening crunch as its arms buckled. Wailing, it hunkered down, covering its head with its ruined arms. Zeke didn’t care. Pulling his hand from the gaping wound in his belly, he grasped his club in a two-handed grip, then raised it high over his head. After pausing for only an instant, he roared a bestial roar as the club descended, powered by every ounce of power he could muster.

Then, he did it again.

And again.

Over and over, he bashed his club against the troll until it was little more than a pile of blood, scales, and slimy flesh. Even then, he kept going, tears of pure emotion tracing a path through the blood and gore all over his face as he screamed his frustration away.

Finally, his strength gave out, and he collapsed atop his victim, victorious. A familiar warmth erupted from his core, spreading through his body as he gained a level. It took care of some of the smaller wounds he had collected throughout the battle, but the more serious injuries on his back and, more importantly, the gash across his stomach, only got marginally better. It was enough to keep his innards where they belonged, but little more.

But he had won, and against three monsters twice his level. Despite the agony still coursing unmitigated through his body, he couldn’t help but smile an exhausted smile. However, he knew he couldn’t remain stationary for long. His battle had surely attracted the attention of other trolls, and it wouldn’t be long before reinforcements arrived. So, he slowly rose on unsteady feet and took stock of his slain foes.

They’d been dressed in simple loin cloths – thankfully, as he had little interest in seeing whatever hung between their legs. But one of them had a small pouch tied around its waist. So, he bent near the corpse to retrieve it. As he was untying the rope that the creature had been using as a rudimentary belt, Zeke found himself staring at one of the wounds he’d created. He could visibly see the injury healing, like tiny tendrils of flesh wriggling out to connect with other threads. Luckily, it had been confirmed dead by the energy he’d received, so he likened it to death twitches. Still, it was incredibly creepy, so he quickly retrieved the pouch and backed away, careful not to reopen the wound in his belly.

Inside the pouch was a small stone no bigger than a golf ball, and it was inscribed with what looked like a rudimentary rune. He stared at it for a couple of seconds before a spark of inspiration told him to open up his core and push a bit of his mana into the ball. When he did, a spark erupted above the ball. He repeated it a few more times before he realized that it was a fire starter. Immediately, his grin widened. It was quite cool in parts of the cave system, so a fire – should he find enough fuel – would be a welcome thing indeed.

The only other thing inside the pouch was a small, stone-bladed knife with nothing but a bit of wound twine for a hilt. It was small – no bigger than a handspan long – and brittle, so it wouldn’t be very effective in a battle. But it was extremely sharp, so he figured it would still be useful.

He was in the middle of inspecting the small knife when he heard heavy footfalls coming from down the cave. Even after weeks of living with his improved senses, Zeke still wasn’t entirely accustomed to them, so he had trouble discerning just how many pairs of feet were stomping their way through the cave ahead of him. Nor did he know precisely how far away they were. However, he knew there were far more than the three he’d just fought, and they were progressively getting closer.

As quickly as he could, he tied the pouch around his waist. However, it was only a couple of seconds before the lumbering form a troll came barreling around the corner. It locked its eyes on him, and for a brief moment, did nothing. Then, it barked something in what Zeke had come to recognize as some guttural form of communication, receiving a series of other barks in return.

“Shit,” he muttered before turning on his heel and sprinting away.