“This was a big mistake,” Zeke muttered as he stared down the horde of drachnids coming at him like a tidal wave of insectile legs, shiny, black chitin, and murder. He hurled another of his runic rocks, and it collided with the lead drachnid’s face, vaporizing half its torso along with the thing’s grotesque head. It fell, only to be trampled by its fellow monsters.

Despite killing his target, Zeke swore in frustration. The rocks were powerful, but they weren’t nearly as effective as he’d expected. If only he’d had a little more time to work on the runes, he felt confident that he could’ve increased the radius of destruction, but as it was, each rock was normally worth only a single kill. Maybe two, if a pair of drachnids were particularly close to one another. In short, it was far from the backbreaking barrage he’d hoped to achieve. Still, the rocks showed some promise; they were at least better than throwing unmodified stones, as he had in the troll caves. Zeke had a feeling that if he tried to repeat that underpowered technique against the drachnids, the rocks would do little to no damage. Even so, he wished his new creations had been a little more effective at thinning out the horde of monsters.

Through his bond with Pudge, he knew that Abby had engaged the enemy as well, but when the bear cub got excited – and fighting monsters definitely did that – Pudge was a less than reliable source of information. What few impressions Zeke managed to fish out of the cub’s thoughts were laced with so much battle rage that they were largely useless. Of course, the mere fact that anything came through was enough to let Zeke know that, for now, they were alive. That would have to be enough.

Zeke continued his bombardment, and with each throw, a drachnid fell. Not for the first time, he found himself marveling at the fact that his arm actually worked. Before he’d died, when his elbow had still been held together with titanium pins, throwing anything at all would’ve been a study in anguish and disappointment. More, it would’ve been grossly ineffective. But now? He was lobbing rocks more than two-hundred yards, and he didn’t even feel strained. In fact, he was more limited by the sight lines than his throwing ability.

But the wave of drachnids kept pushing forward, heedless of the fall of their brethren. Zeke had always known it would come down to a melee of close-quarters slaughter. No matter how effective his runic rocks were, he only had so many. Even now, his stock was running low. However, he’d positioned himself as well as he could at the mouth of a small cave – more of a crack in the canyon wall, really – so that he could only be assaulted by a couple of the horrible monsters at a time. So, when the drachnids finally crashed into him, he would be capable of holding his ground without being overwhelmed by sheer numbers.

Throwing one last rock that exploded only ten feet away, Zeke summoned his mace from his spatial storage. Even as his fingers wrapped around the worn, leather grip, he felt a sense of overwhelming comfort. No matter what else happened in this crazy, new world, this was something familiar. In fact, as he swung his bone-hafted mace in a two-handed grip, it felt like he was coming home.

The studded head crashed into an unlucky drachnid with enough force that its entire body was thrown aside. Even over the strange, insectile clicking that passed for speech amongst the drachnids, Zeke heard a sickening crack as the monster’s neck snapped from the whiplash. Experience washed over him, but he couldn’t enjoy it because an instant later, the rest of the drachnids were upon him.

Zeke’s fighting style had both improved and devolved in the time since he’d found his way free of the troll caves. From a purely technical standpoint, he knew he’d made plenty of sacrifices. The sweeping strikes he employed against the drachnids would be next to useless against a better trained foe. But for all their cunning, the spider-like humanoids weren’t overly skilled. In fact, despite their appearance, they fought more like beasts than sentient creatures. From an anthropological standpoint, the drachnids might have been on the cusp of creating a real society, but in terms of fighting style, they were woefully lacking.

That didn’t mean that they weren’t dangerous. Far from it. It was a similar danger to what Zeke might expect when fighting a horde of beasts, as opposed to an army of sapient creatures. However, what they lacked in refinement, they more than made up for in sheer ferocity and numbers.

Which was why Zeke had subtly changed his style. He didn’t bother with feints. Nor did he use the quick, jabbing thrusts he had developed to deal with the more sophisticated troll warriors. Instead, he used long, loping strikes that, if they connected, could put a drachnid out of commission with a single hit. This had the unfortunate side effect of leaving him open to attack, which was why, only a minute into his battle, Zeke’s leather armor was already shredded, and he was bleeding from what felt like a hundred wounds along his torso.

It hurt.

No, it was torturous, and in a way that would’ve had the old Zeke curled up in a weeping ball of agony. But the new Zeke took the pain as the simple price of doing business. He wasn’t built to leap around like some kung fu master. He could have done it, sure. His agility and dexterity were incredibly high, just like the rest of his stats. Despite that advantage in stats, though, when he tried to employ a more acrobatic fighting style, he felt awkward and uncoordinated. Besides, this was a battle of attrition. He had plenty of energy right now, but he’d also barely made a dent in the drachnid’s numbers. So, he’d made the decision to eschew the conventional wisdom that told him to avoid any and all attacks, instead letting his endurance, vitality, and the effects of [Leech Strike] see him through.

He didn’t just stand still, though. Instead, it was a balancing act. Take the hits he could handle while avoiding the ones he couldn’t. There were far more of the former than the latter, but every now and then, one of those drachnids would aim particularly well. Such was the case when one drachnid – a huge creature that was at least a head taller than any of the rest – swept an attack at Zeke. He leaned back, the thing’s dagger-like claws narrowly missing the opportunity to rip his throat out. Zeke knew he could heal from most injuries, but he wasn’t willing to test his limits by letting something like that connect.

His mace arced out, thudding into the big drachnid’s chitinous, natural armor. A spiderweb of cracks flowed from the impact, but it didn’t shatter. Zeke mentally activated his [Inspection] skill, and he was soon rewarded by the creature’s information flashing before his eyes.

Drachnid Alpha – Level 23

“Huh,” Zeke muttered. “That’s new.”

Indeed, the rest of the monsters had been labeled as a mixture of drachnid drones, warriors, scouts, and burrowers. The drones usually were between levels fifteen and seventeen, with the warriors and scouts being a couple of levels higher. The burrowers had a much greater range, but none of them had been higher than level twenty. Strangely, though, the burrowers went down far more easily than any of the others, prompting Abby to label them as “experience pinatas.”

The new arrival was clearly on another level, though. At level twenty-three, its power was theoretically on the same tier as the troll warlord. But as he avoided another brutally powerful attack, returning fire with a sweeping strike of his own, Zeke couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. The second attack further compromised the chitin’s integrity, and the third shattered it completely. The monster screeched in pain, but Zeke gave it no quarter. Four attacks later, it joined the growing pile of dead monsters at his feet.

Idly, as he continued to hold his ground against the surging drachnids, Zeke wondered if the ease with which he’d dispatched the alpha was due to its own shortcomings or if he’d just grown that much more powerful. He couldn’t be sure, but he suspected it was his growing strength that had made things so much easier. After all, he’d gained three levels since the fight with the troll warlord that had given him so much trouble. He’d also gotten a few achievements that had further enhanced his overall potency. Most of his stats had doubled since then, and the effect was a truly intoxicating level of power that let him punch far above his weight class.

How much more powerful would he get?

It was a worthwhile question to ask, especially considering that Abby’s presence had given him some context into how unique he really was. Not only did he have advantages like his title as the Steward of the Crimson Tower, and all the perks that came with it, he was also capable of fighting monsters twice his level and winning. More, when compared to Abby, despite being a couple of levels lower than her, he was in an entirely different category. Certainly, she was capable – incredibly so. And she had her strengths, being capable of dealing a great deal of damage from afar. But in terms of raw power, she might as well have been a child next to his inflated stats.

Zeke continued to fight, and gradually, he began to whittle down the horde of drachnids. Every now and then, he’d gain enough of a reprieve to loot the corpses before him; without that, there would have been a wall of dead, arachnid bodies. Looting them with a touch and a mental command had them reduced the corpses to piles of goo and dismembered body parts that, in turn, dissipated into nothingness after only a few minutes.

He fought mechanically, his every swing felling a drachnid. They were so close together that he couldn’t miss, even if he tried. But on he fought, even as the weight of his actions pressed against his endurance. His muscles burned with the exertion. His chest heaved. And his mind became a muddled quagmire of disparate thoughts. For a while, he lost himself to it. Drachnid after drachnid fell before him, but he hardly noticed. One of the monsters was much like the last. Even the scattered alphas weren’t enough to draw him out of it. They fell, the same as the rest, even if it took marginally more effort.

Zeke had felt himself descend into that exhaustion-induced state of mind before. In the troll caves, when he’d been climbing the spiraling ramp before he fought the troll warlord was the first time, but it had been repeated in the harpy-infested, ruined city of Tua’Ta’alar.

But even when he was in the old world, he’d had the ability to divorce his mind from whatever was happening around him. At first, it’d been a necessary tool to combat his father’s constant abuse, both verbal and physical, but it had quickly infected his rigorous training as well. It was always so easy to just space out while he worked himself to exhaustion. However, he’d quickly learned that it was a dangerous habit to get into. Real training required concentration, especially when it came to something like baseball, where even a minute degradation of technique could be the difference between a roaring success and abject failure. So, Zeke had been forced to learn when to turn his mind on and off, an ability that had come in handy while fighting hordes of semi-dangerous monsters – a great strategy right up until Zeke found himself sailing across the canyon and crashing into one of the stone pillars that dotted the ravine.

Zeke screamed as he felt his collarbone break, even as the chunks of rock dislodged by the impact rained down him. However, he didn’t have time to think before a drachnid was on top of him, ripping into his belly. Pain turned to agony, and he lashed out, kicking the creature away. It was sheer luck that let him connect, and the thing went flying into the vastly reduced horde of drachnids that hadn’t moved a muscle since the new arrival had attacked.

Thankfully, [Leech Strike] had been running when he’d kicked, and he felt a rush of vitality begin to stitch his collarbone back together. As the life energy did its work, Zeke picked himself up and quickly found his opponent, who was climbing back to its feet. A quick use of [Inspection] told him what he was facing.

Bara Kar, the Drachnid Champion – Level 25 (E)

Zeke didn’t need to read the creature’s name to know it was different. Even if the force of its blow hadn’t been enough to cement that in his mind, Zeke could see that this monster was a different breed altogether. For one, where the other drachnids looked like arachnid versions of centaurs, with spider-like lower halves and mostly humanoid torsos, this creature was bipedal. On top of that, it was much smaller than its brethren – or maybe subordinates, given its level. In fact, it wasn’t much bigger than Abby. It was also covered in segmented, chitinous carapace from the neck down. The ridges on its face were sharper and more pronounced than the other drachnids’, too. In short, it looked like an entirely different, far more dangerous species.

But size didn’t really correlate to strength, as far as Zeke could tell. And besides, he’d felt the thing’s attack. More than that, he could barely even perceive its actions, it had moved so quickly. One second, he’d been mechanically mowing through the more mundane drachnids, and the next, there was a flash of black claws. Then, he was sailing across the canyon.

Zeke rolled his shoulder as he glared at his opponent. Had the drachnids planned it? Had they intended to lull him into a false sense of superiority? Sacrificing so many, just to make him drop his guard, seemed pointlessly cruel. Or had he finally done enough damage to warrant a response from their big-hitter? Zeke had no way of knowing.

The other drachnids backed away from the champion, Bara Kar, further confusing Zeke. Only a quarter of them remained, but when combined with the champion, they could’ve easily overwhelmed him. Such was the difference its obvious power could make.

With one hand, the champion banged against its carapace with enough force that Zeke could hear it even fifty yards away. Then, it let out a screech, followed by a series of clicks. Zeke didn’t understand the creature’s language, but he got the meaning well enough.

Zeke retrieved Voromir from where it had fallen when he’d collided with the rock pillar. Then, he flexed his shoulder again, testing it. Good enough.

With a roar, he accepted the champion’s challenge.