Slowly, almost ceremoniously, he prepared for his expedition, double and triple checking both his equipment and supplies.

But not before frying up and generously spicing with salt, pepper, and oregano, what must have been at least a hundred pounds of rat meat, having already tested and verified that temperature and freshness were both near perfect in a space he sensed had very little to do with the passage of time.

He then carefully inspected all of his gear, paying particular attention to all his weapons, with a particular focus on resharpening the 1821 he had given a microserrated edge, thanks to his mentor’s file and directions from an old 18th century British cavalry officer’s treatise that of course Mr. Vincent had somehow conveniently had on hand. And Eric sure as shit couldn’t fault its effectiveness, having mastered the knack of tearing through even tough rat hide with a cleaving slash or a ripping draw cut, having gone from his blade helplessly sliding off oily fur to ripping right through limbs and necks on the backstroke, as he darted past their lunging leaps and darting nips.

And that was without using any perks at all.

But one thing was for sure. The wear and tear of combat on a microserrated blade was definitely taking a toll on the weapon, even if the slow grinding away of the steel was barely noticeable, for now.

His spear and crossbows would do, he decided, though he’d be careful with the weapons that had failed before.

His second 1821 cavalry saber remained in pristine condition, its edge honed only with what remained of Vincent's and now his, collection of whetstones, best used when they were themselves wet, hence the name, before padding it dry, applying fresh oil, then finally putting it back in his storage space, unsheathed, just like his daggers, of course. Because when he most needed to pull it free he did not need the delay of yanking it free of it’s sheath.

That he’d reserve for the actual blade on his hip he had diligently trained to draw and strike with in under a second, half the time it took to claim anything stored in his ES Space.

Happy with the state of his weapons, he then moved on to his armaments. The riveted steel chainmail was, much to his surprise, still in perfect condition, despite the best effort of numerous rats trying to chew up his limbs through it on more than one occasion. But his helmet did have several dents in it that he did his best to very carefully hammer out with the ball peen hammer he managed to hunt down. He now just wore two pairs of bluejeans over his once more powerfully built thighs, the topmost pair serving as backing for the rawhide plates he had cleaned, boiled, and layered with glue before heating and molding in the gas stove.

He was no tailor or armorer, but the hours of work when he took a break from his training, again making use of Mr. Smith's surprisingly comprehensive notes, had taught him the most basic techniques, and all he needed was to glue the pieces on. Now, he was the proud owner of toughened leather pants that just might deflect at least a few animal bites before tearing through.

His forearms as well now benefited from rawhide guards glued onto the leather jacket he wore over his mail hauberk, and there had been a certain degree of ‘fuck it, let’s go all out’ when he had tried to affix hard plates of dried rawhide on the front of the jacket as well.

But all he had to do was look in the mirror, to gaze back at the scarred boy wearing a leather jacket and bluejeans covered with a hodgepodge of fur and hide, with a tricorn costume hat over his half-helm and a pink silk scarf wound about the lifted collar of his leather jacket, to know just how absurd he looked.

A part of him wanted to laugh, but a far more practical part of him didn’t give a damn how much he looked like a clown, if it bought him just a few more seconds against the rats, or anything else, that wanted him dead.

“Though I might tuck my neck scarf away when I hit the town… or if they look like assholes, maybe not,” he said aloud before giving his reflection a final bemused nod, before heading back to his quarters and grabbing his most comfortable clothes and putting them all in his storage space, just as he had the canned foods, portable cooking stove, multiple five gallon water jugs kept as backup for the water filtration system, and of course, his beloved instant mashed potatoes.

He eyed his bed for long moments, knowing what he was thinking was absolutely absurd.

“But fuck it. If it works...”

And the delight in his laughter when his bed and pillows disappeared instantly cut off when he realized that, for all that he reveled in his growing strength and prowess, overcoming all the obstacles placed before him, he hadn’t laughed like that since Earth had fallen.

A sobering thought that had him shaking his head, wondering just how much shit he could put in his storage space, before accepting that he was just delaying finally making his way to what was hopefully civilization and living, breathing people.

But first thing’s first, he thought, putting away pointless speculation as he focused on what truly mattered. The thrill of the hunt and experience to claim.

And all that could be sensed in the absolute darkness was the snap and whine of crossbow bolts streaking through the air, the cut off squeals of dying rodents, and the soft tear and splash of steel ripping through flesh.

You have successfully slain 2 Rat Sentinels! (½ Experience penalty).

And when alarmed squeals turned to frenzied rats looking for a target, Eric welcomed them as he communed, for just a heartbeat, with the essence of sharpness itself, drawing and striking with his blade in the blink of an eye.

Iado skillcheck made!

Doom Slice!

You have successfully slashed open the necks of two charging rats!

Surviving rat attempts to flee.

Successful spear throw impales fleeing rat!

You have successfully slain 3 Giant Rats!

You have sustained zero injuries.

You sense yourself on the verge of learning a new skill.

Experience earned!

Having achieved Journeyman status in 3 martial skills, in addition to 14 Strength, 15 Finesse, and a Quickness that was a respectable 13, Eric made short work of multiple rat patrols slowly making their way through the tunnels near the arterial passageway leading to the underground town as marked by his interface. And despite the growing anxiety he felt, sensing the presence of more of his enemies than ever, he still took the time to collect his quarrels, store his kills, and carefully inspect his gear after taking out each group. He knew, if anything, he should be grateful for the endless pitch-black tunnels. Thanks to his infravision, what had once been a childhood terror was now the comforting cloak of gloom that kept him out of sight of so many foes that wanted him dead.

Only when he was ready and his equipment passed muster did he continue his journey along an ever descending limestone passageway, the damp air cool against his face with an almost soothing earthy scent, and, surprisingly, after just a couple more patrols he thought it more prudent to slip past than butcher, he sensed absolutely no further sign of rats. Which made him break out in a cold sweat, just knowing that had to mean trouble, somewhere ahead.

And he had learned his lessons well, peering not just at the passage before him but the ceiling above, eyes widening as he took in the now surprisingly high tunnel ceiling complete with stalactites, which made absolutely no sense, considering where he thought he was in relation to the brick and mortar tunnels just a hundred or so yards back… or had it been farther? And the city that should be just above them.

But his eyes didn’t deceive, clearly making out the sharp blue outline of limestone stalactites… and the white-hot blaze of thousands of bats, high above his head.

His gut lurched as he embraced absolute stillness, readying himself for anything… but the bats were perfectly still.

Not a one did more than rustle its wings as Eric slowly stepped forward again, steadily increasing his pace when it became clear that the comatose bats couldn’t care less about the creature with almost no visible flesh, covered in rawhide and steel.

Time passed, and Eric couldn’t help but furrow his brow, wondering if he had misunderstood the map, for all that his interface had pinged it as if it was somehow able to validate another adventurer’s map for authenticity, or at least his sister’s. Which left him wondering just how far this pocket of humanity truly was. Certainly beyond the city limits, he thought, as his cautious walk turned to an effortless loping jog.

Congratulations! Stealth is now Rank 7!

He took full advantage of the relatively flat terrain, embracing the feel of his fur-padded work boots stepping lightly even as he ran, welcoming the burn in calves and quadriceps as he combined exercise and technique, his much-improved Vitality meaning that he could keep up his present stride indefinitely, no matter how much he felt the burn. And after weeks of pushing himself to the absolute limit multiple times every day, he quickly slipped into a zone where he embraced and welcomed the burn.

He could only imagine how the earlier version of him would have felt, to see the Eric of today running for what felt like miles at a stealthy sprint. So he embraced the pain, taking joy in the slow increase in his Stealth skill that he could sense slowly climbing up to Rank 8 as he found himself feeling more connected to the gloom than ever before, infravision letting him know just where to place his feet, his growing sense of the vibrations in the limestone cavern cueing him on just how to flex and cushion each powerful stride, so he made no more sound than the wind.

But when he felt a sudden jolt of apprehension, he didn’t question it, merely pulling free his crossbow with a couple second’s concentration, now proceeding at a cautious sniper’s crouch, one eye taking in the environment, the other peering through the sight, braced and ready when the spike of foreboding turned to a chilling scream echoing through the endless limestone caverns.

Cries coming just around an intersection from a smaller tunnel merging into this main arterial thoroughfare.

What it said about him that he didn’t hesitate for a second, he didn’t know, only that his heart was hammering with dread for the sake of the woman whose voice he heard, soon joined by a handful of roars and shouts, Eric bracing himself as best he could for anything as he darted around the bend, but even he was frozen by the tableau before him.

Gazing upon half a dozen men and women, three with makeshift spears, one with a bow, one with a discharged crossbow, one wielding what looked like a katana, all of them dressed in either military camo gear or swat uniforms, with kevlar vests and ballistic helms worn by all of the spearmen, the group of six defending no less than what seemed to be several dozen refugees or traders, many walking with overstuffed trail packs on their back, others using wheel barrels or modified cart stands like he once used to see in the malls to cart a wild assortment of clothes, tools, canned foods and boxed goods.

All of which Eric took in the blink of an eye before his focus went to the source of the screams.

A pair of massive lizards, easily the size of elephants, had ambushed the caravan.

And in those moments Eric instinctively froze, just trying to process the scene before him, the lizards struck with deadly coordinated speed. One distracted the spearmen with a violent hiss, showcasing massive jaws and a disgusting look down its throat, while the other darted past the spearmen and snapped the stumbling bowman in powerful jaws before dragging its struggling prey away in a spray of blood, violently kicking legs out of the corner of its mouth all that could be seen as the lizard darted back.

Eric heard a frustrated scream and the air was alive with the crack of lightning exploding into the retreating lizard's flank, which made it lurch momentarily before continuing its loping retreat, having picked up a human-sized snack from the caravan just as casually as Eric would grab an apple from a cart.

Find Weakness skillcheck made!

At least by the time he snapped out of his horrified daze, he found his crossbow in hand, and was now desperate to find a weak point in his terrifyingly massive, almost dinosaur-sized opponent. Any vulnerable point where his quarrel might actually do some damage.

Unfortunately, the thicker bulk of the lizard's body made sensing the details of the organs within much trickier than it had been with the rats. His heart pounded with dread as he sensed the lizard getting ready to strike its next victim, before the obvious solution finally clicked.

He held his shot for long tense moments as the creature opened its massive maw to take down yet another spearman.

Modified Finesse/Quickness check made!

You have successfully timed your shot!

With a gentle squeeze, Eric sent his crossbow bolt cracking through the air to plunge down the beast’s throat, angled to tear through vitals as much as possible.

And he made full use of the couple seconds the lizard wasted hissing and lurching back in surprise, blood spurting out of its wildly snapping mouth. Eric did his best to focus past the horrific surrealness of the moment, mentally swapping crossbows with the still-loaded one in his interface, flashing an anxious smile when it worked like a charm like he knew it should, after the magic two seconds. And now it was Eric taking advantage of his foe’s moment of stunned surprise to send a second bolt cracking through the air to pierce the base of its throat, the brilliant white heat the creature radiated from its neck making it clear that any protective scales located there were far thinner there than anywhere else on its body.

It was an observation vindicated in a spray of blood glowing with brilliant heat to Eric’s eyes as the massive creature twisted around and thrashed, making odd grunting sounds, choking on the blood pouring down its throat. That was when the man holding a katana roared and charged in, furiously flailing at the creature’s thick hide before being sent flying by a massive swing of the beast’s spasming tail, the air now filled with the panicked shouts and screams of confused men and women terrified for their lives.

Yet through it all, Eric forced himself to calmly, methodically, reload first one, then the second crossbow, doing his best not to let the taste of blood and fear in the air affect him any more than it already had.

The only one not acting with panicked desperation was the girl perched on one of the wagons, now pointing her ebony wand at the thrashing lizard, her lips curling in a furious snarl.

“Forzar!”

Lightning flashed, and Eric had to squint before his infravision kicked back in. He winced to see the lizard's frantic death throws only increasing, wondering if even more caravanners would fall victim to its flailing tail than the swordsman who had been sent flying.

“You guys might want to back the fuck up,” Eric hollered. “Or that fucking tail will kill you just as quickly as a bite from its oversized mouth!”