Perception check made! You have successfully spotted: Rat Sentinels.

Eric froze where he stood, peering around yet another brownstone corridor as he dared tunnels winding far beyond the tight circuit he and his sister had used to hunt.

He was quite pleased with the day so far, having successfully ambushed two additional clusters of rats, both a pair and another group of three. He had given in to prudence, carefully avoiding one cluster of a half dozen or so. Though he did take note of their route, in light of the day he’d be strong enough, confident enough, to hunt them down in the future.

With the first pair he had faced, he had done his best to both control the situation and maximize his gains, deliberately making shots that would be crippling but not fatal, before rushing forward with his spear and finishing them off. And much to his exhilaration, his plan had worked flawlessly.

The second ambush had been a bigger risk, but he had been prepared. Quickly sniping one with a headshot and crippling the second before drawing and bracing his spear for the third rat's inevitable charge.

And charge it did, the spear jostling alarmingly against his foot, though it died near instantly when Eric's bayonet tore through its spine. And then it was all about quickly finishing off the oversized rat, and glorying in finding himself most of the way to level 2.

But now…

Eric took a deep, steadying breath. Chilled by the sight of these five-foot-long monster rats he had stumbled across, their eyes glittering with a feral intelligence that sent shivers down his spine.

Experience point penalty or no, he sure as hell wasn’t fucking around with these monsters.

And the first bolt he fired streaked through the air with the satisfying kick of force against his shoulder, almost like a rifle, with more noise than a bow because these weapons weren't perfectly silent, but they were damned close if one's target had any sort of city noise or background rustle to distract.

But down here there was only the faintest trickle of running water to break the near absolute silence and the second rat had already twisted around and charged with murder in its eyes. And the huge surge of experience he had just gotten from the death of the first rat only heightened his terror, making it clear just how much potency these creatures had… and how deadly they truly were.

Because of course that was when his treacherous tremor would strike, jerking what should have been a kill shot into one that ricocheted at a poor angle off the squealing rat’s jaw, earning Eric only enough time to draw his saber and brace himself as the monstrous rat crashed into him, Eric screaming as hot fetid breath washed over him and vicious incisors tried and failed to bite through the steel mail links covering his arm…

Though crushing flesh and snapping bone just fine.

Steel mail shirt resists puncture!

Crushing Bite has broken tibia! You have suffered One Medium Wound! Left arm is Partially Impaired.

Eric screamed in terror and desperation.

The most human of all reactions to life-threatening danger, a final cry for help to one’s family, tribe, or clan.

But Eric was all alone in a world where everyone he loved had been torn from him, and nearly everything else wanted him dead.

And after all had endured, struggling so hard to better himself, sweating for countless hours just to have a chance at a future… to die at the hands of this oversized rat because a spiteful Pod left him a damaged wreck after trying to steal his gift…

All of it filled him with a white-hot rage.

You have successfully accessed Essence of Flame.

You have successfully accessed Essence of Wrath!

Eric’s terrified whimper turned to a howl, tightly gripping the stubborn hilt of his blade, visualizing filling his monstrous foe chomping once more upon his arm with fire.

To no avail. No matter how Eric felt the hot fires of his wrath filling him, his sword remained a dark, unconnected blotch in his mind’s eye.

So instead he imagined deadly heat flowing from his now mangled arm into the blood filled maw of his foe, even as it savagely chomped down once more and Eric shrieked with pain.

Heat Surge FAILS to transmit through Inert Artifact (No Soul Link detected. No Arcane Link detected. No Spirit Link detected.)

You have transmitted Heat Surge through Mangled Left Arm! Blood Link (Rat Guardian’s Mouth is filled with your blood!) Enhances effect!

Desperation drives your surge to unparalleled heights!

You have critically struck Rat Guardian!

Heat Surge is now Rank 2!

You are now suffering Soul Depletion.

For one glorious moment, Eric felt like he was an avatar of destruction, as if he were living flame himself, as he squeezed his will upon the rat's heart. A heart he could suddenly sense bursting into flame.

And the instant he felt the hundred-pound monster collapse, Eric crashed back into himself, a living avatar of flame no longer. The farthest thing from flame. In fact, he was in so much agony that he could barely think, let alone revel in his kill as he gazed down at the smoking remains of the rat.

His stomach spasmed and he wretched, hot bile shooting out of his nose, heart hammering in his chest. And the overwhelming nausea and dizziness overwhelming him was suddenly spiked with a cold sense of foreboding.

The fear that he had, in his moment of desperate panic, pushed himself too far. Pushed his gift too far.

It was everything he could do just to stumble back to his feet and lurch back the way he came, praying he could get back home without any more encounters, barely having the strength to put one foot in front of the other.

Before forcing himself to turn around, for all that he whimpered, needing to get back to safety as soon as possible. But he refused to leave before pulling his saber free of that massive rat. And failing utterly.

He sobbed in sudden despair before shaking his head and making the whole problem disappear with a single touch.

You have successfully stored Rat Guardian and Cavalry Saber in Interdimensional Storage Space.

ESS Manipulation is now at Rank 2!

He desperately choked back the bile clawing at his throat, stumbling away without even collecting the second rat guardian, having no idea the limits, if any, of his storage space, and having absolutely no desire to push himself when he felt strangely brittle, as if any added pressure would send him flying off to oblivion.

Instead, he just focused on moving one trembling foot after another, cursing his sudden onslaught of dizziness as it became painfully clear that his brain still hadn’t completely healed from whatever neurological damage had caused his trembling. Not completely. Even if his two weeks of hyper-intense training had played a vital role in mitigating the symptoms.

That damned pod had well and truly fucked him over.

He ground his teeth and cursed, choking back the whimper crawling in the back of his throat from the pain of his crippled arm, struggling just to move one foot in front of another as quietly as he possibly could.

His heart hammered in his throat as he sensed a trio of squealing rats making their rounds past an intersection, just twenty yards ahead.

It was all he could do to force himself to take a single crossbow out of storage, before gazing with despair at his own trembling hands, knowing he’d never be able to cock it, let alone fire it, in the state he was now in.

It was with a certain amount of despair that he realized that if that trio turned down this corridor now, he was well and truly dead.

Fortunately, by some miracle, they didn't. And the surge of gratitude Eric sent to whatever heavenly influences might be looking his way was as silent as it was profound as he spent well over an hour ever so slowly and carefully making his way back home, refusing to take the final branching tunnel leading to his steel-reinforced sanctuary until he was well and truly sure that no rat was anywhere near him.

That no predators were lying in weight, eager to finish him off in his weakened state.

But there was nothing.

Just his own sob of relief while desperately spinning open the lock with trembling fingers, allowing the tears to stream down his cheeks with heartfelt relief when he finally got inside, slamming the vault door shut and spinning closed the lock with a grateful groan. He fought just to take off his blood-stained gear before crashing on his favorite leather sofa and sinking into a slumber that was sweetest bliss, already knowing exactly how he would advance himself.

Three points poured into his Vitality at once had made all the difference last level, transforming severely damaged lungs to scarring so mild it was hardly noticeable, and opening the path to enhancing it normally, through exercise and self-improvement.

This level he could only hope that by pouring all three points into Finesse, giving him an effective score of 13, higher than it had been even when he had been at the peak of health, would be enough to repair whatever neuroclusters had been damaged with the pod's ham-fisted 'enhancements' and maybe, if he was lucky, he would be able to shoot his crossbows and brace his spear without ever again having to worry about sudden spasms skewing his shot and nearly costing him his life.

When he woke up 8 hours later, he was both awed and grateful to find that his poor mangled arm that had swollen up so awfully he couldn't even bear to take off the steel mail shirt without sobbing, was now utterly free of pain, with no trace of heat, swelling, or infection.

He knew he should be damned grateful. His arm should rightfully be a swollen mess, and he should be feverish with infection, lucky if he would keep the arm without massive doses of antibiotics. But now, being able to level up, with his body, perhaps his very soul, transformed by an interface and the crystallization of his psyche? He was fine.

Better than fine.

Because when he dared to glance at his character sheet, he found that his newfound sense of balance, of feeling utterly in tune with his body and the world around him, every movement crisp and precise, was more than just the serenity of waking up perfectly rested. The bane he had learned to live with over the past few weeks to the point that he had almost accepted it, accepted how he had to tense up with almost every stroke of his blade or shot of his crossbow, was now well and truly gone.

His tremor was no more.

_____________________________________

Eric Silver Level 2 Conscript

Physical Characteristics

Strength – 11 (07%)

Vitality – 12 (96%)

Finesse – 13 (Your grace and coordination make you a natural marksman!)

Quickness – 11 (You now know how to treat your scars for flexibility!)

Appearance – 7 (You suffer significant scarring over 90% of your body!)

Mental Characteristics

Scholarship – 12

Perception – 13

Willpower – 15

Charisma – 13

Potency Pools

Arcane Potential – 14

Spiritual Energy – 16

Soul Reserves – 21 Flawed as you are, none can question the potency of your soul. You found it within yourself to embrace essences few on any world will ever sense, let alone ever master! - You have pushed your soul to the limit, forcing the essence of flame into your opponent, a feat that nearly killed you! You have no idea how close you came to death, fading out of existence entirely, your spirit slipping away forever more along astral winds.

Congratulations! Your Soul Reserves now transcend all mortal norms!

Stamina – 140 Points (You have gained 95% of original lung function! Constant training means your stamina is now 20 points above baseline Vitality norms!)

Health – 151 Points.

Resistances & Recovery

Physical Resistance – 0

Physical Regeneration – Baseline (You need 20-(Vitality) = 12 hours of rest before your body will fully restore from all negative ailments or injuries.

Elemental Resistance – 0

Qi Resistance – 0

Mental Resistance – 1

Interface Enhancements

Full Neuro-Linguistic capabilities

Extradimensional Storage Space

Interface Recognized Skills

ESS Manipulation – Rank 2

Swimming – Rank 2

Saber – Rank 8

Spear – Rank 9

Crossbows – Rank 6

Stealth – Rank 3

Essences Claimed:

Fire (Rank 1.01)

Wrath (Rank 1)

Essence Related Skills:

Invfravision - Rank 3

Heat Surge - Rank 2

_____________________

Only now, with the madness of battle past, safely in his shelter once more, did he bother glancing at the interface messages that made him smile.

No matter how many hours are spent practicing the basics, the killing arts can only said to be truly understood when used in actual live combat! Where the crucible of battle assures that only the best-trained soldiers and techniques survive to pass on their strengths to future students!

Saber is now Rank 8! Your ability to plunge your killing weapon into frenzied rats in the heat of battle, despite your own physical limitations, is the hallmark of a warrior becoming one with his blade!

Spear is now Rank 9! You have managed to perfectly set your spear against charging beasts far more agile than warhorses multiple times in a single hunt! The forging of a consummate spearman is the million-year birthright of humanity itself! Is this the path you will one day walk, adventurer?

Crossbow is now Rank 6! You have the makings of a natural marksman… or assassin. Now blooded in the hunt at last. Who knows how far you can go? How high your kill count might one day be?

Congratulations! You have a knack for moving quietly when shit is absolutely hitting the fan! Stealth successfully quantized at Rank 3! Nothing supernatural about it, but you clearly have a knack for taking advantage of cover and moving without alerting half the neighborhood! A skill that’s just as important as how well you can cast your spear or shoot your bow, and the hallmark of all your ancestral hunters. Now go be worthy of your own heritage!

As awed and grateful as Eric was to find that his awful tremor was now a thing of the past, his body possessing a grace he could have only dreamed of before, his crossbow bolts now streaking across the entire compound with effortless precision as he reset the archery range for maximum distance, having no reason to fear hitting anyone else, he was chilled to sense just how close he had come to death.

Overusing his Essence of Fire, or more specifically, the crude attempt at filling his foes with the essence of fire that his interface labeled as ‘Heat Surge,’ had nearly killed him. Had it been a game, he imagined that successfully frying that rat’s heart from the inside had bottomed out his reserves, and most of his health, with him completely unaware.

Because he was untrained, using abilities he barely understood.

Abilities he’d have to keep practicing with, one way or another, because that was the only way he could improve them right now. He would just have to make a point of being careful. Damn careful, when channeling that sense of impossibly brilliant heat within him, and certainly not embracing it to the point of tapping himself utterly.

He couldn't hold back a rueful chuckle, however. As that bit of madness that had nearly killed him had increased his Soul Reserves to 21, and his Essence affinity by a whopping 1%. The only time he had sensed the shimmering blue bar over that rank 1 essence increasing at all.

He could only hope that by practicing and improving his Heat Surge skill, it would become more efficient and less likely to tap him out. Though frankly, at least for now, it seemed his best bet was just to practice his martial skills, most specifically his crossbow shooting, as the edge he needed until he leveled up some more.

The next several days he spent training as intently as ever, pleased to see that he could fast-draw and strike with his saber as smoothly as he ever had under his former mentor, absolutely tearing into the cloth lining the pel as smooth as a dream. Best of all, every thrust with his spear now hit exactly where he aimed it, to the hair, even when he practiced winding strikes, miming knocking an opponent’s sword away while striking with a curved lunge.

"Time for the next step," he had thought to himself halfway through his training, now making use of nail, string, and the autographed baseball that no one would ever care about again to make a moving target swinging back and forth between the sandbag targets.

You have failed to hit your target with reverse-draw crossbow!

And this truly was a challenge, Eric was ruefully forced to concede, having to not only hit an aimed-for target, but to both track the ball and anticipate where it would swing to in the instant it took his bolt to arrive at the target. For that reason, he deliberately practiced at different ranges and always fully kitted in his armor, including his thick leather workman’s gloves. Because mishaps happened, and that would be what he wore when he was fighting for his life in any case.

Much to his chagrin, he missed far more often than he hit, and was forced to concede that this really was time well spent. Because learning how to track and hit moving prey was vital to any marksman or hunter. It was a skill that also translated to lining up his spear to strike a moving or dodging opponent, and he didn’t feel guilty at all when two days of rest and training turned to four, his Vitality now having hit that glorious 13, only demanding 7 hours of rest to get maximum gains from any exercise or training session. Which meant that he was benefiting from 2&1/2 training sessions a day, or 10 sessions by the time he was ready to dare hunt those rats again, his skill with crossbows increasing incrementally after every session, until the skill bar was full and he had achieved another rank with his deadliest weapon.

Congratulations! You have achieved Rank 7 with Crossbows!

A natural hunter and marksman, you’ve gained proficiency at hitting moving targets far beyond what most weekend hunters could ever achieve!

His experiments with dressing fresh rat kill and cooking the meat didn’t go nearly as well, however, for all that it seemed that with all the stretched space in his interdimensional storage space, time wasn’t an issue at all.

The rat meat he pulled out each day was still perfectly fresh, even after trying and failing to butcher the carcasses with any grace, grateful that at least the cistern and water filtration meant that he could clean the kitchen and himself, though he always boiled his drinking water with the gas stove for added assurance. But the rat meat was horrible tasting no matter how he prepared it.

And as far as his crazy experiments with the rat hides? Well, that had gone better than he could have hoped, no matter how many Selftube videos he used to watch explaining the manufacture of ancient weapons and armor.

He smiled as he made his way down the side tunnel leading to the main corridor once more, surprised by how tough and hard the hides had become after he had boiled them in water after covering them in a paste comprised in large part of costume glue. He would then heat it in the oven until it had hardened to what felt like a cross between leather and hard plastic before finally duck-taping the treated rawhide to his pel as a fresh covering to practice saber slashes and spear thrusts upon, serving as desperately needed padding for a training pel that had definitely seen better days.

He was surprised as hell that his crude attempts at forging rawhide armor had worked, and humbled by just how well it deflected most of his saber cuts. Unless his blade was perfectly angled and he sliced as he cut, allowing the micro-serrations of the filed sword's edge to bite into the hide, his cut would be deflected. A humbling lesson, and an important one. Because learning how to effectively slice through even the toughest natural materials was an art which he should be practicing and perfecting, every chance he got.

All in all, by the time he was ready to head back out, his earlier near-crippling anxiety had transformed to a feeling of quiet competence, buoyed by his increase in Vitality, ever more sophisticated sword and spear technique, and perhaps most importantly, now that he was able to hit a moving target like a moving baseball three times out of four, he knew he could take out threats that could potentially swarm and kill him.

His technique wasn't perfect, and it had cost him several crossbow bolts, but the rich return of self-confidence all his training and steady improvement had given him, confidence in his own abilities, was more than worth the cost in time and resources.

Best of all, during all the grueling hours he had spent perfecting his martial techniques as best he could with solo drills, forms, and target shooting, his once treacherous hands hadn’t skewed a shot or sent a weapon hilt jerking out of his hand even once.

Now, it was all he could do to slow and quiet his stride as he made his way down corridors he finally thought of as his own, more than eager for the hunt to come, as he strode for fresh territory, on the hunt for any prey scurrying on the tunnel floor before him.

He then instantly stilled body and mind with a speed and grace he never would have been capable of before, allowing his senses to expand outward.

Tasting the air, ears perched for the slightest squeak or rustle… there.

UP!

He immediately jerked his crossbow up as infravision caused the massive rat glaring at him from a perch formed by shifted stone and a drainage pipe to glow a brilliant orange hue.

But the massive guardian rat was already airborne, leaping for Eric’s throat.

Before collapsing in a dead heap by his feet, as Eric now instinctively tracked his foe's trajectory, gently squeezing the trigger in time for a bolt traveling 450 feet per second to tear right through the massive rodent's skull, killing it near instantly as the bolt lodged into the vaulted ceiling above.

You have critically struck your opponent.

You have slain Guardian Rat!

Experience Earned!

But as exhilarating as the surge of potency was, those massive 5-foot guardian rats boosting his experience pool far more than the others, Eric was scanning the ceiling with his second crossbow already in hand, feeling a cold sense of dread, despite his perfect shot.

Because just as he was hunting the lesser rats…

It seemed that the guardians were now hunting him.