Congratulations!

You have leveled up!

You have leveled up!

You have leveled up!

You have defeated the Decrepit Queen!

One hour was the answer. One long, long hour of clinging to the pillar and waiting for something, anything, to happen, and the mosaic floor he definitely didn’t trust now was coming back together, bits and pieces slotting back into each other until the chamber was once again pristine and neat, just as it had been, sans the Queen.

Slowly, he reached out with one foot and nudged the floor with his toe. It seemed solid, but he didn’t trust anything.

Congratulations! You completed one of two bonus objectives: deal no damage!

He hadn’t gotten hit, though?! He would have died if he…??

“Oh,” he said, and gingerly touched his still-bleeding cheeks. “Status window.”

CILLIAN JAMES

LEVEL 7

STR 18

DEX 18

INT 15

WIS 15

MANA 18

VIT 20/40

LUCK 156

SKILLS: TIMELORD

STAT POINTS TO ALLOT: 15

ITEM BOX: 1 ITEM

Right. He had to eat that meat. There was no way of knowing if it would spoil in there. But in the meantime.

15 points to allot.

Normally, he would just go down handing out stat points one by one, take note of the last one he left off, but… what could the Tower really do about wisdom or intelligence? He didn’t want it fucking with that, actually. Clearly, he may have previously thought himself stupid, but he managed… Well, he just managed that, so he might have been a bit off the mark. He could apparently be quite intelligent in a life or death situation. Nothing like nearly getting squashed by a giant scary lady to get the synapses firing, after all.

Well, he thought he knew what to do.

CILLIAN JAMES

LEVEL 7

STR 18

DEX 21

INT 15

WIS 15

MANA 24

VIT 20/43

LUCK 159

SKILLS: TIMELORD

STAT POINTS TO ALLOT: 0

ITEM BOX: 1 ITEM

Now… there was no wood or flint, but…

The air before him started to shimmer, and Cillian blinked in confusion as he realized the hatchet was in his hand and brandished. When did he do that?

Right in the center of the room sat a chest, and he studied it. This was a loot drop. He knew that. But, he had also played dnd in the past, and he knew what a fucking mimic was. Did the Tower know what a mimic was? There hadn’t been a loot box before, but this was a boss, so…

Slowly, Cillian inched forward and prodded the box with his hatchet. No reaction, but that didn’t mean anything. It could be diabolical. Maybe even conniving. Once again, he prodded it, and then again, but there was nothing. Not so much as a creak.

“Whew,” he breathed out, but then the box clicked open. “AGGGHH!!!”

Cillian jumped back, but the inside of the chest just shone out with a bright, warm, golden light.

Oh. It was just opening. He must have triggered something.

Gripping his hatchet tightly, he inched forward and pushed open the chest, to reveal a half-open stack of coins and a set of vambraces. Nothing else.

“Item box,” he ordered, and immediately got to work putting the items in the box to view the stats.

1,000 gold coins

Seemed pretty self explanatory, but he had no idea where he was supposed to spend them. Was that a later level thing?

Queen Astrid’s Vambraces

Rare

The strongest and wisest of the giantesses, Queen Astrid was a force to be reckoned with before the Living Death chained her to this world.

+3 to STR and +3 to WIS.

That was ridiculously good, he realized in a daze. The silver vambraces were lined in gold and engraved with mysterious runes. Carefully, he checked over them, and then just shrugged. Might as well strap them on. The vambraces dropped out of the box and he put them on top over his filthy sleeves. Oh, gods. His fingernails were absolutely coated in dirt. He could see his fingerprints outlined in the grime. This was disgusting.

“I wanna go home.”

Julius Strange has requested to accompany you.

Y/N?

“This is approaching stalker territory, dude,” he said aloud and clicked ‘no’.

Like clockwork, the portal from before slowly formed in the center of the room, and Cillian stretched out the kinks in his back with a series of loud pops. Sure, he was filthy and disgusting and tired, with brand new scars, but his face was no longer bleeding, and he hadn’t taken too much damage. He was going to confidently count this one as a success.

“Okay,” he said and picked up his hatchet. “Level three, here I come.”