“You are all here for the same reason, more or less. You want to learn more about the System and abuse that knowledge for your personal gain. It is an admirable goal. However, the question that plagues us is thus: do we mold the System or does the System mold us? Your homework for this week is to write a paper on that question, specifically exploring Class and Skill consolidation. Does our innate desire to categorize and put things into boxes result in consolidation, or is it a product of how the System views us?”

-Quote attributed to [Professor] Duncan of the Academy of Sciences

-

The dark and bitter emotions inside Snowflake screamed at him to rush the hobgoblin in front of him. They urged him to battle it out blow for blow until only one of them reigned victorious. Snowflake’s natural caution warned him to find a way to escape; to do anything to escape the looming threat of death. The deep-rooted curiosity at the core of his very being wanted only one thing, to find out what his new Skills did.

Snowflake opted for a middle path.

Facing an armed opponent while unarmed was not exactly an unusual occurrence for him. In his old world the only weapon he ever needed was the magic that flowed through his veins. As for this new world, Honey had made it a habit to disarm him during their spars. Then she would beat him with her wooden batons while he did his best to defend himself. At first, he had thought it unfair. The broken bones pushed his opinion of it toward borderline cruel. Now, he vowed to thank her for all her hard work. He just had to survive long enough to get the chance.

The hobgoblin stalked forward like a predator circling injured prey. Nevasca’s tail whipped against his back as she tried to distract him. He ignored her. She wrapped her tail around his ankle and pulled with all her might, claws scratching at the hardened dirt. The hob [Guardian] did not break his stride. Desperate to buy Snowflake more time, Nevasca rushed in close with her teeth and claws flashing. She leapt onto the hob’s back, her teeth gnawing at his neck while her rear paws raked against his skin.

He shrugged her off, pausing his advance only to kick her across the [Arena]. She let out a pitiful mewl as she crashed into the ground. When she rose from the dirt, hurt but whole, she stalked the hob from behind and searched for an opportunity to make a difference in the coming struggle.

Snowflake let out a breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding. It had happened too fast for him to react. His pain addled mind had narrowed his focus and his beloved companion almost paid the price. However, he could feel Nevasca’s unwavering determination through their bond. It filled him with a sense of pride. He counted himself lucky to be blessed with her.

Snowflake’s bleary vision refocused on the hobgoblin’s relentless approach. One of the most important lessons Honey had drilled into Snowflake was a simple one. If he got hit with an edged weapon, without a powerful defensive Skill, he would die. His opponent would not give him the time to heal and the vicious wounds left by a sword, spear, or axe were far harder to recover from then the clean holes that bullets created.

It was clear to Snowflake from the searing pain in his side and the white mist clouding the edges of his vision, that a strike from the hobgoblin’s crescent headed battle-axe would end him. The [Guardian] had only clipped Snowflake with the back of his shield and it put him in dire straits. It was a stark reminder that even though [Adaptability] enhanced his Skills, the ones he had were low level.

The hob rushed forward, using the edge of their great shield as a second weapon. Nevasca resumed her assault, but the hob’s focus didn’t waver. He lashed out with the shield and followed through with the axe. Leveraging the long wooden handle of the axe to give the weapon greater reach, he whipped the crescent blade through the air in a sweeping blow. Snowflake backpedaled, dodging the shield with ease. However, the hob predicted his dodge and caught him with the axe’s longer reach. The tip of the axe caught on Snowflake’s woven steel vest.

With the ear rending screech of metal on metal, the axe dug into Snowflake’s armor, but did not pierce it. The force of the blow pushed Snowflake further back. With quick footwork, Snowflake borrowed the momentum to gain some space.

Each step he took was a struggle. His side hurt so bad. Each breath was a painful gasp. To add insult to injury, instead of the smooth motions he was used to, he jerked in the direction he was going. Fortunately, the jerking movements were quick. With just a few steps, Snowflake moved well out of the hob’s range.

[Rapid Recovery] was working overtime, draining away Snowflake’s Source almost as fast as he could gather it. He was using every trick he’d learned from fighting without a Core to gather Source faster, but when the fight could be settled in a matter of seconds, he wasn’t sure if it would matter. The pain eased and Snowflake’s white tinged tunnel vision began to expand. It didn’t matter though. The hob was pressing his advantage, a wild grin on his face.

Snowflake moved in small bursts of explosive power, circling to the left of the hob. Dirt burst from beneath his feet with each step, like every movement was a miniature [Explosive Step]. The hob was unhurried. He didn’t continue to rush forward, but he also did not leave Snowflake any time to think of a strategy or slip back into his Soulspace.

Something clicked. Maybe [Rapid Recovery] cleared Snowflake’s mind. Maybe his subconscious just put two and two together. Regardless, he realized the hob was herding him. Probably toward the wall of the [Arena] and away from both his weapons and the corpse of the [Assassin]. Snowflake had squandered the hob’s goodwill by not picking up his weapons. Now they were playing a different game.

The dark bitterness in Snowflake screamed at him to even the playing field. Every fiber of Snowflake’s being agreed. He fumbled at the pouch on his side. His hands were too fast, and his arms moved with too much power. He couldn’t get it open.

Frustrated, he ripped it off his belt with surprising strength. He tore a hole in the leather and grabbed a handful of the bullets inside. Snowflake had almost no practice with the [Bullet] Spell or electromagnetic energy. He did, however, have a teacher who specialized in kinetic energy. With a thought he sent feelings of caution and retreat to Nevasca. He prayed to all that was holy she understood his intentions, but he couldn’t spare it any more thought.

A few more steps and Snowflake’s back was against the wall. Despite being wind, the wall had almost no give. It was unclear how high it was due its transparent nature. Jumping was too much of a gamble. The hob approached, beating their axe against their shield with every step. Snowflake could make out the sound of screaming and yelling in the distance. The goblins cheering for his imminent demise, no doubt.

The hob stopped in front of Snowflake. He was too far away to cut down Snowflake with his axe, but only just.

“Good try,” he said with a simple shrug. “Next life, try be kind to goblin.”

He stepped forward, axe flashing high. Snowflake raised his clenched fist, twisting it so his palm faced the hob. He grabbed his raised wrist with his opposite hand and braced himself. His broken fingers were a long-forgotten pain, having paled in the face of impending death. Blood pounded through his ears, turning the world around him into white noise.

Snowflake released the kinetic energy he had forced into the bullets he clutched, opening his clenched fist as fast as he could. Blood and bullets sprayed forward in a cone toward the unsuspecting hob. The hob recoiled, twisting his shield to cover his face. The bullets ricocheted off the virtual slab of metal. One took Snowflake in the shoulder, but he grit his teeth and pushed forward.

With his newfound speed, he lunged toward the hob, grappling for his axe. He caught hold of it, but where he gripped it, it was slick with blood. Nonetheless, he tried to wrench it out of the [Guardian’s] hands. He pushed off with both feet, using [Explosive Movement] for all its worth. His feet scrabbled against the dirt. There was almost no give. The hob had a grip on the axe that a vice would be proud of.

A dark shape rose out of the corner of Snowflake’s vision. A heavy object crashed into him. The shield. It rose again and once more it came thundering down. Each hit rocked Snowflake to his very core, but he didn’t loosen his grip on the axe. He couldn’t.

Snowflake didn’t want to die. There were too many mysteries to explore. Too many promises to keep. And so, he ducked his head and held on.

With a wordless roar, Snowflake changed direction, pushing toward the hob instead of trying to pull away. They stumbled backwards in a tangle of limbs. Snowflake yanked in the other direction, but it was useless. He did the next best thing, attacked the axe itself. The haft was made of wood. Snowflake gambled that his bones were harder.

He yanked the haft of the axe down, pushing off the ground with one leg and bring his knee up as hard as he could. There was a loud crack, and then pain. But everything was pain. The haft of the axe was still whole, [Lesser Might] or no. So, Snowflake tried again. Mid way through the motion, his leg gave out. He stumbled but kept his grip on the axe.

All was not lost.

He let go of the axe with one hand and raised it high over his head. Everything was blurry, but a small thought was clear in his mind. His throat hurt. It wasn’t an important thought or even a relevant one, but it stood out. Snowflake’s bones were breaking, his blood was everywhere, but his biggest concern at this very second was his scratchy throat.

His elbow crashed down into the wood. He released a [Power Strike] and [Reverberating Strike] in tandem. Just in case. Something gave. He couldn’t tell if it was his bones or the wood. His world was desperation and pain.

Then, he was flying. Again. He hit the wall of wind so hard that he bounced off it. Clutched in his blood hands was the head of the axe and about a foot of the shaft.

Snowflake craned his neck to see the hobgoblin, perhaps a dozen feet away. He was flipping the rest of the haft in his hand. With a thoughtful expression on his face, he tossed it up in the air and caught it.

Snowflake struggled to climb to his feet. The first time he tried, his arm gave out; the second, his leg. He kept his eyes glued to the thoughtful hob, ready to abandon all pretense of dignity and crawl away at a moments notice. After what seemed to be an eternity, Snowflake made it to his feet, bloody and broken.

He wondered if it was his own determination that was keeping him going or if his Skills propping him up like some sort of grotesque marionette. If he had to guess, Snowflake would say that [Lesser Toughness] and [Lesser Grit] were the strings holding him place.

The hob caught his eye and gave a small nod of acknowledgement.

“Pity,” he said, still flipping the broken haft of his weapon. “Enemies.”

Snowflake opened his mouth to speak, but his throat was dry. He tried to swallow but ended up bending over and coughing. Blood fell out. In the back of his mind he knew that despite his bone deep weariness, he had to say something. Anything. Just to buy a few more seconds to recover. He spat and tried again.

“If can take,” Snowflake said, waving the rest of the broken axe with a weak gesture. He subconsciously mimicked the hob’s speaking cadence and grammar. It was easier and he was tired. So very tired.

The hobgoblin laughed, a deep and rich sound.

“Yes.” He smiled. It was a warm smile. Similar but different than the too wide smile that had adorned his face before. The smile faded and a sad expression took its place. “You weak. New. Wool eyes. Sad to kill.”

“Let live?” Snowflake said the words, but he knew in his heart there was only one ending to this.

“No.” The hob let out a deep sigh. “Blood price. Message. No excuse being puppet.”

“Let level?” This time Snowflake’s voice cracked. He couldn’t read the hob’s expression. Taking a deep, gasping breath, he kept trying. “Fair fight?”

“Mmm, no level.” The hob replied after a second. Then, he threw the broken haft of his axe on the ground and hurled his great shield away. It smashed against the wall opposite of Snowflake, missing a hissing Nevasca by a mere foot or two. Snowflake felt his eyes go wide and heart pound in his chest. The hob tapped the painted swirls on his chest and echoed Snowflake’s words back to him. “Fair fight.”

***

“Can’t you go fassster?” Ra’hel urged Bonehammer from their small, shadowed alcove. Her emotions leaked into her voice in the form of a drawn-out lisp. The dryad looked up from their work, scowling.

“You are lucky I even brought tools with me,” Bonehammer said, their exasperated whisper only just audible over the sound of goblin cheering and the soft clink of metal on metal. “I was not expecting to need to alter my equipment on the battlefield.”

Ra’hel breath came out in a hiss. She had to force herself to stop from swaying. Threatening the strange little [Blacksmith] would not make them etch the bullets any faster. Ra’hel knew this for a fact. She already tried.

She considered checking on Snowflake’s desperate struggle, but she squashed the urge. Watching him scramble for his life would not help them finish their preparations any earlier. Instead, she triple checked the already completed bullets.

Each one had deep grooves carved into the side. Bonehammer did good, if slow, work with their small hammer and chisel. Those grooves glistened with a translucent yellow fluid; Ra’hel’s venom. Milking her own venom was an uncomfortable experience to say the least, but Ra’hel endured. It was the least she could do. She wished she could do more. In her opinion this plan relied far too much on Bonehammer.

Bonehammer had to etch the grooves in the bullets as well as shoot them into the unsuspecting crowd of goblins. If everything went well, they would hit and envenom at least one of the hobs, creating the opportunity they needed. That was the plan at least. Ra’hel doubted it would go that well.

Despite her many reservations, Ra’hel had high hopes for this strategy. Maybe she felt the need to focus on the flaws to temper her enthusiasm. She didn’t dwell on it. Her [Enhanced Venom] on the bullets should be enough to at least distract their opponents long enough for Quinn and the remaining [Assassins] to do something. Anything.

***

Quinn watched Snowflake get cornered by the hob Champion and cursed under her breath. She wasn’t ready. Despite the abundance of light today, it took time to gather it. It took even longer if you were trying to gather it while maintaining [Invisibility] and trying not to visibly alter the level of light in a certain area. Then came the process of altering the light once it was in her possession.

Beads of sweat dripped drown her face as she tried to force the light into a single point, all while altering the properties of the light itself. It was a difficult spell. So difficult, in fact, that she had yet to master it enough to gain the associated Skill. The concept was based on theoretical designs found in the depths of the Dungeon’s Library.

Under Quinn’s watchful gaze, Snowflake managed to break the hob’s weapon. Quinn’s estimation of his ability ticked up a notch and she vowed to give him a passing assessment if they managed to get out of here alive. By the look of him, the chances were slim.

The hob threw down his weapons, but Quinn wasn’t fooled. Goblins were just as dangerous unarmed as they were armed. Those teeth and claws were not for show. Snowflake was going to die, and soon. She had no more time; she had to act now.

Quinn fired off a quick [Message] to Kabron, commanding him to rescue Snowflake. Then, she dropped her [Invisibility]. She focused her entire being into gathering light from the air and forcing it into a singular point between in her hands.

If anyone was viewing the cliff top from afar, they would have seen it grow dark, as if a cloud passed over the sun. Then, there was a brilliant beam of light. It swept from left to right in a horizontal arc, burning everything it touched.

Quinn winced at how broad the beam of light was. To truly perfect the [Laser] spell, she had to do more than force it into a single point. The physics of the concept still eluded her, but she was working on it.

Goblins and hobgoblins alike screamed at the unexpected pain. What the concentrated solar energy touched, it ignited. The lesser goblins rolled on the ground, trying to put out the flames that burst from their clothes and ease their scorched flesh. Both hobs ignored their burning leather armor and smoldering flesh, instead choosing to search for the source of their pain.

Quinn was already in motion. Her sword took the first hob in the neck, removing it from their shoulders with the aid of a [Kinetic Edge]. The second hob already had an arrow notched and was taking aim. Quinn [Duplicated] herself and rushed forward.

Her illusionary double spread her wings and pointed toward the hob, a ball of light shining an angry red at her fingertip. With a quick manipulation of sound energy resulting in a [Throw Voice] spell, Quinn forced her duplicate to scream a war cry. The [Archer] took the bait, firing their arrow through her [Duplicate’s] face.

It was a testament to the [Archer’s] skill that they had another arrow notched and aimed before Quinn’s true body reached them. It didn’t help. Quinn switched strategies when she realized she wouldn’t be fast enough with her sword. She used a [Modified Railgun] to send a bullet through the hob’s skull. The velocity of the bullet was so great that it turned their head into a bloody mist.

Angosin always said to remove or destroy the brain of an enemy if possible. Not many people had the Skills to recover from that.

Quinn did not slow as she rushed past the toppling corpse of her opponent. She dove from the top of the cliff like a [Swimmer] might dive into water from a great height. Even in this chaotic mess of a situation she still enjoyed the lost feeling of flight. Oh, how she loved the wind rushing past her face.

In the back of her mind, she hoped her wings were still strong enough to slow her descent.