*Ding– Notification pending*

The soft ping of having received a manifest update, chimed.

Hesitantly he opened his status screen, hoping against reason that a trait had suddenly solidified, that anything had changed since last looking. He consciously knew that no trait would appear – having received the previously dreaded message the day before, claiming that he couldn’t solidify one – he couldn’t help hoping regardless.

One eye shut as though preparing for being hit over the head he looked at his status.

Kent Larsson [Lvl. 0] [NONE]

Health: 37/39 Stamina: 21/64 Mana: 5/8 Vitality: 8 Toughness: 7 Endurance: 11 Strength: 13 Agility: 10 Senses: 9 Mind: 7 Magic: 4 Willpower: 8 Regeneration 10

New Notification Log Entry:

You have slain “Drop Pig” Level 4!

For a second, he stared at the notification in shock. He had killed the drop pig after all. Rather unexpectedly in hindsight. The monster must have bled out from the plethora of wounds across the body.

Sadly, that was the only thing that had changed.

He had expected as much. If gaining a trait or level progress after a monster kill would have changed something about his status, the Sa’ali would not have passed down the tradition of exiling – well, technically murdering – people that didn’t undergo the Solidification.

Kent sighed, then dismissed his status. His hopes utterly squashed. He would need to keep growing by himself. He had everything he needed to further grow and become stronger. It would just take years longer for a single stat point. Even Magic could be trained with the firestone and his cloak. Though without skills a greater magic value wouldn’t do him much besides increase the frequency with which he could use his two enchanted items which while strong, especially the latter, wouldn’t do him much good, since he could never reach the required values to use them effectively.

He would have to take care to not sustain large injuries though. Even leveled people couldn’t recover from severe wounds or injury without a specific trait, skill, potion, or a healer.

While he had those considerations on his mind the fire slowly grew. And one point during the preparation of his root vegetables he thought he heard another drop pig, but after straining his ears for a bit he discarded that worry – though he never let go of the knife clutched in his main hand. His knuckles long since having grown white.

Contrary to what Kent had expected, the small fire must have had a taunting impact on the monsters, instead of scaring them like common animals. Coming from the direction into which the previous drop pig had escaped a scarcely audible squeak came.

And here I’ve just staked a roaao and was hoping to eat. It made him smile regardless. He was better prepared this time, hearing the monster gave him ample warning and the light would help him better defend himself. He would show his former village just who they had exiled. Only few could claim to have killed monster without the help of traits, and with his meager abilities and equipment, he sure had to be one of the more impressive fighters.

For a moment he tried to come up with strategies that would work well against the monster, moving away from the fire, placing it between the two opponents would certainly help with visibility. But only if the drop pig didn’t switch its location so rapidly.

Which it would. So, staying semi-close to the fire would be part of the tactic. This way he could even use it as a deterrent – he hoped – and definitely to cause harm.

But whatever approached kept rushing at him, not changing its approach.

Monsters tended to be able to use their special abilities more often so he was at a loss for what was happening.

Given the speed of approach it was a stronger variant of the monster he had previously fought.

Or so he thought until the outlines of the approaching thing grew clearer.

Not a drop pig then.

The silhouette of a crawling monkey was a familiar occurrence in stories. He had been told them too and on second though making a fire hadn’t been the smart move, scramblers hated the light. They should be further out from the village, but it was night, and most laws were greatly diminished during the night.

Scramblers were a minor threat to everyone that exceeded or even equaled their level. According to some guards they were dealt with a single sweep of a low leveled person, having almost no defensive properties. Yet, they were fast and had very well-developed senses.

Their speed will be an issue. Maybe if I get lucky, I might injure it and drive it off. The last thought was far off and far from ideal but better than any other alternative he could see.

It came closer, swerving around the fire which Kent had placed between them. Just paces away within seconds. Kent jumped to the side and rolled away as the creature dashed at him. To his relieve he did not hit another rock, only lightly rolling over his firestone in his pocket.

Knife in his right he pulled the firestone out of his pocket with his left. Any tool was also a weapon – especially when the assailant was weak to all forms of damage.

The scrambler had already mostly adjusted to Kent’s dodge and was facing him head on. The dash and roll had driven him away from the fire, which he tried to undo with steady shuffling and low success. He smiled though, the monsters attack from the shadows had not gone as well as it hoped.

Slowly the creature approached, maybe feigning weakness or being slow or just careful with the fire around, Kent couldn’t be sure. He considered what to do next, but all ideas seemed somewhat lacking.

Using the firestone again, and even more mana than minutes ago would prevent him from using the stone again within the next day. His regeneration rate wasn’t bad for a level zero, but too low for practical use, unlike the remainder of his family. He snarled in annoyance but had managed to place the fire right behind his back again.

The heat quickly growing unpleasantly but it would help should the scrambler charge again.

Using the firestone again would completely ruin any chance of using the Cloak of the Suffocating Night’s Embrace he had stolen – some might say liberated or borrowed – from his aunt the night before. The woman hadn’t used it in ages due to its annoying intrinsic skill and with his low mana pool it was almost pointless either.

Lacking other options he charged the firestone up, giving ever last drop of magical potential he had in him to the small red sphere. It would heat the darker half the second his concentration, his control of the mana inside the structure, gave up; he would use that as an emergency trigger.

Throwing the charged rock had potential though before he could ponder further on the ideal the creature leapt high. Just a bit shy of Kent’s complete body length.

With a bit of luck….

He dashed forwards in a roll to land on his back. The speed of rotation around his bodies’ axis of weight was fast. His feet and legs slammed into the ground in a heartbeat. The next instance, even though they hurt like death itself, he pulled them up again and pushed them against the scrambler above him with all his might – unamplified as it was.

How hard he hit the monsters was up in the air, he could have only landed a glancing blow, causing the creature to rotate a bit, or if his dice had fallen luckily, he could have successfully pulled of his flash of insight.

Twisting and pushing himself up to be ready to go again, he winced as he saw the creature. Its backside on fire and a menacing expression on its face..

How is it on fire, he gasped? Even a landing full center of the fire should have only caused lacerations. Maybe it’s toughness really was that low.

With a quick few steps, he charged around the fire and stabbed with his knife into a hindlimb of the creature, which was still occupied with putting the fire out.

Before it had time to react to a sudden threat change, he began trying to cut the muscles he had just stabbed into by pulling the knife out at an angle. Parallelly, he used the pent-up mana in his firestone to release the potential heat into the other hindleg.

The creature lashed out in lightning-fast bursts, faster than Kent could even perceive. But only the first strike hit, the heft of the initial punch enough to deliver Kent from the subsequent blows.

Kent felt a rib break. Not sure what had just happened he tried to get up but could only stumble, his chest barely supported his weight and each movement was agony.

Yeah, I’m screwed. He tried to stagger a bit but even using only legs to push himself further away caused stars appearing across his vision. Looking down he could see what had happened. Maybe if he was lucky enough, he would survive. His knapsack was too far away, removing any chance of snatching one of the two stolen health potions within.

As though having heard his thoughts the beast approached. Now dragging itself across the floor, merely its clawed front legs working apparent by the way it dragged itself across the floor.

He only had one option know. Staying as calm as possible and try to surprise the monster. Maybe he would have luck. His chest at least looked convincingly like that of a dead person he notices through his periphery.

His heartbeat grew increasingly harder to handle. It felt like his whole chest would just explode. The combination of both the pain and his increased heart rate amplifying each other.

The moment the scrambler had reached his precarious position, the monster’s head just handspans away from his knife wielding hand, which exploded upwards. The already blood smeared edge of the knife penetrating deep into the equivalent of what the creatures throat would be and upwards towards the head.

The knife slid into the skin like butter, the comparison almost making Kent retch, the consequential pain of his chest quickly shutting that stimulus down.

Kent shivered, the feeling of his knife breaking bones and cutting skin utterly disgusting. He might be squeamish, but he had survived.

It’s gurgling only lasted for moments the body collapsed in shivers.

The bleeding, pain, and shattered bones had been too much. The movements that had been staggeringly fast moments ago were seized by the rigid embrace of death moments after the knife had pierce from the throat into the skull.

Kent was arguably in a better position. His chest screamed at him, to lay still and rest but he was alive.

Contrary to the throbbing over his heart he kept shuffling back to his pack by the fire. The sweet release of health potions called to him.

Pushing himself with his legs while on his back to his knapsack took some time but at least it didn’t put further strain on the wounds of his chest.

He fumbled at the cordage with his right hand, keeping up the effort of not straining his wounds still.

Just as he managed to maneuver the potion out of the knapsack he got a distracting ping.

*Ding– Notification pending*

How it had taken so long for the monster to really die Kent wasn’t sure about. It could wait till later. Getting healing was his priority.

Removing the cork stopper from the flask proved difficult and painful but he managed without spilling more than a drop of the carefully dosed potion.

He lifted his left hand – which turned out to incite less agony – to his mouth, flask in hand and drank the sour-bitter liquid down in a couple large gulps. Now all that remained was to wait for the potion to take effect.