Lock didn't really know what the bleating of sheep had to do in a dungeon, but found it odd that the combination of cyclops and sheep would carry over into an entirely different world. He wondered about their presence, maybe the boss had a skill that let him summon the animals, maybe they were warped here alongside the cyclops when the dungeon formed. It didn't really matter. What mattered was the fact that the cyclops had access to food. Why had they eaten the possessed corpses though? He asked that last question out loud.

“Cyclops are very individualistic monsters, they might live close together, but there is no sense of community. The one who owns the sheep is probably strong enough to defend the herd, the others were hungry enough to eat random people running naked into their dungeon, so the owner of the sheep has to be be powerful.” Grandfather answered. “Humans might also just taste better.” He muttered afterwards.

“Technically speaking then, this particular cyclops, or a group of cyclops would not have been poisoned, having his or their own food and therefore having no need to eat our little poison bags.” Lock said grimly to the nod of his grandfather.

“So what now?” The younger of the two asked, “do we want to fight, I already got five levels out of this whole venture, that's quite a lot.” He'd unlocked one skill and had gotten five points into his favourite stat, in his eyes the trip was a success.

Grandfather bit down on his thumb and looked into the distance. “It's definitely one cyclops, not a group. The only reason it would be a group is if it had young children with it, which would be more of a liability.” He said slowly after a minute or so of deliberation.

“Are you sure about that?” Lock asked dubiously, they had passed more than a dozen corpses on their way so far, it would be quite far-fetched for there to be such a difference of quality between the cyclops that almost twenty of them would have been unable to divest one of their species of their food supply. Although, if they were as individualistic as Grandfather said they wouldn't have really tried to band together.

“It's a gut feeling, I've learned to trust them.” Grandfather said simply.

Lock could respect that, the instincts of someone who'd been an adventurer for forty years certainly wouldn't be bad, as much as they were simply unconscious reactions to stimuli taken in subconsciously.

“We haven't found much loot yet, and if it is one very powerful cyclops who has its own herd of sheep it would make sense for it to have everything of value within this dungeon. It's not just the experience that we have to weigh against the risk here, it’s also the monetary goods that we could get if we clear this place out completely.” Grandfather continued, looking... fairly constipated really.

“We don't really have to beat him in a fight,” Lock said, “poison has worked once already.” It really had worked quite wonderfully the last time, although...

“How do you plan to poison him, he has his food source already and I don't have any wisps left?” Grandfather asked, seemingly reading his mind, he'd also brought up a point of interest.

“What did happen to the wisps?” Lock asked, “haven't seen them flying around anywhere yet.”

Grandfather gave him an odd look for that question, his expression giving more emotion to the statement of 'how the hell am I supposed to know that' than words ever could.

Not knowing what had happened to the wisps was disconcerting, but they'd been more of an afterthought anyway. What was important was the potentially last cyclops, and the loot of course.

“Well,” Lock started cautiously, knowing that his plan wouldn't go over very well, “the thing is blinded, and I still have some of the scent-masking potions, I could sneak to the sheep and poison them.”

Grandfather blinked at him in surprise, as if wondering how he was this stupid, “how about no.” Was all the older man said.

Lock furrowed his brows and queried further, “why not?”

Grandfather rubbed his temples and sighed a bit. “Sorry, you act so much like an experienced adventurer I've started treating you as such without noticing. The reason I won't allow you anywhere near that cyclops is the fact that not only does a monster's physical strength rise when it reaches higher levels, so does the variability it has access to in the form of skills, racial traits and sometimes even spells.”

That was... something Lock had not thought of, he'd just assumed the cyclops would be physically more imposing than the average one, something that did not matter all too much when one was sneaking. Although, not having been able to gauge the average level of the monsters in this dungeon due to them being well, dead, he couldn't really nail down an assumption of strength to the enemy they would now potentially face.

“I understand that skills are a greater factor that I considered, but I think we're labouring under a miscommunication here.” Lock said eventually. “How many times stronger do you think this cyclops is than me?” He asked.

Lock had been thinking about the cyclops' relative strength trumping his by a factor of about three. So he was suitably surprised and horrified when grandfather answered his question with a resounding “hundred.”

He gaped at his unflinching ancestor and then sunk into a contemplative silence. It was rather unlikely that grandfather actually considered the cyclops to be a hundred times stronger than him. That was just unrealistic, it was more likely that there were other considerations being done here.

Lock wasn't experienced, but he certainly was no weakling, he had endurance, strength, agility, good equipment, poison and, if he dared toot his own horn, a bright mind. The cyclops was ten times stronger than him, at most. A being he should very much be capable of killing if it were weakened, if not dead from poison and with Grandfather by his side.

There would be risks involved sure, but that was it wasn't it, there would be risks involved. If you kept repeating an action that had even a 1% chance of killing you, like fighting an enemy you were unsure of, then wouldn't you be statistically dead by the hundredth time?

Grandfather had once admitted to him that ten was his favourite number because that was as high as he'd been able to count when he'd become an adventurer.

It would make sense for such a wary man, who had grown old in a profession where most died young, to have several quirks that involved risk assessment.

Such as multiplying the threat level of every enemy by ten.

“Living a long life huh, that's what I told you my dream was all those years ago when I told you I wanted to become an adventurer.” Lock said wistfully looking at the calm blue eyes of his grandfather. “Thanks for keeping it in mind and trying to help me along.” He said and leaned back against the wall, he turned his head upwards, gazing at the smooth ceiling of the cave they were in. “So what now then?”

“Well, poison has worked quite well, although it seems to be an oversight of yours that you don't have it in gas form,” Lock shook his head at that, he simply wasn't good enough to make gaseous substances yet, although not simply asking his father for some was a mistake, “but I don't see why you think you're the one who needs to apply it.” Grandfather finished.

Lock raised an eyebrow at him, “because I have Stealth I guess.” He said without much thought, most adventurer parties worked under a strict division of labour, hell, society in general did.

Grandfather chuckled, “well, I may not have the Stealth skill, but sneaking past a blind cyclops shouldn't be that hard, and unlike you, I believe I should survive just fine were I to be discovered.”

That made a lot of sense really, the reasoning behind Lock not trying to sneak his way to the sheep was that he would find himself quickly changing physical states from solid into liquid if the cyclops had a detection skill. Both he and grandfather would be found out rather easily if that was the case, it was just that grandfather was actually capable of taking on the cyclops in single combat were it to discover him.

“Your words ring true ancestor.” said Lock, humbled once again.

“Thank you, try not to lose your character trait of understanding that other people can be right, when I'm not there to enforce it anymore.” Grandfather said with a chuckle, before getting serious again. “There's only one problem with the plan, one that was present from the beginning but that I did not mention due to wanting to imprint another lesson.”

“And what would that be?” Lock asked curiously.

“Well, how exactly do you plan to poison the sheep, if you try to make them ingest the poison by force they would bleat madly and rouse attention, and if you smeared the poison onto their coat it would never get eaten, not even cyclops are barbaric enough to eat wool.” Grandfather said.

“Who ever said anything about poisoning the sheep?” Lock said with a grin, pulling out a dagger made to store copious amounts of poison within it.

“Ah, my bad, I guess I was just assuming due to how we poisoned the other ones, how effective would it be?” Grandfather asked, referring to Lock's area of expertise.

Poisoned weapons would work perfectly fine, not as effective, but better than nothing.

“The effect will be weaker, just as a warning,” Lock said, receiving a nod. “Other than that it's a good idea, I still have some of the paralysing agent left and the dagger Shink gave is practically made for being poisoned.” Grandfather pulled a face at the mention of Shink, but nodded again.

“The cyclops is blind, I can sneak up on him and try to deliver a killing blow with the dagger, even if I don't manage that it will still be weakened by the poison. Then I can then take it down in a fashion more befitting a warrior.” Grandfather said, laying down the game plan so to say.

“The poison will need a while to spread, so how about after sticking him with the dagger, you run away for a while, maybe lead it into a trap or something, if it's even capable of following you.” Said Lock.

“Alright, you sound like you already have some kind of idea on what kind of trap to build so I'll leave the rest in your capable hands.” Grandfather said approvingly.

“You're not weaselling out of work that easily, I'll need help digging the ditch.”