Mike’s hunched body scrambled into the forest, his vision blurry and his brain sluggish. Straining to think through his murky thoughts, he struggled to remember what hiding spots he had seen while sneaking back towards town just 10 minutes earlier, but he couldn’t remember any nearby, and he knew his pursuers were gaining on him. Looking around, he realized that the normally sparse Montanna forest was much denser than it should have been, something that had escaped his usually perceptive mind up until that point. Normally, Montana forests didn’t resemble Vietnamese jungles in the slightest, but things were a little different after the System had come along. It wasn’t that Montana represented a jungle, but the vegetation was altogether thicker and denser.

Just as Mike was trying to figure out how Junipers could look thicker and denser, his stomach spasmed and he knew his options had run out. He could go no further. Looking at the dense foliage that surrounded him, his mind thought back to a specific mission in ‘Nam, when an enemy battalion had camped all around his squad, not knowing they were there. It had taken two days for them to crawl through the foliage and get to safety, and he just hoped that the same method would work now and that he wouldn’t be trapped for more than a few hours. Eyeing a particularly large patch of unfortunately rocky undergrowth, he collapsed onto his back and inched his way, head-first, underneath the ground cover as fast as he could. Even the knowledge that discovery meant death didn’t ease the pain of the dagger catching and bumping the branches above him as he swiftly submerged himself into the thorny hollow that was his hideout.

Mike quickly reached his submersion limit. Lying prone, his head was just inches away from popping out of the den and he was sure the soles of his feet wouldn’t be well hidden from anyone who was paying attention. Mere heartbeats later, he heard the sounds of the angry mob passing around him.

His training once again took over and he did his best to keep a running count of how many people were following him. Hiding as he was, he couldn’t be completely accurate, but he would guess that the mob numbered anywhere from 30-50 cultists. The crowd’s footsteps were still audible when notifications he had been ignoring for the past few minutes suddenly became red and larger.

[Warning, you have been stabbed.]

[Warning, you are suffering from severe blood loss.]

[Warning, if left untreated, knife wounds can be fatal]

Mike couldn’t decide if the System was trying to be helpful or spiteful by stating only the obvious, but he put aside his feelings and prepared to give himself surgery while lying flat on his back, cocooned in a nest of thorns and sharp branches. Struggling to think through his blood-loss induced stupor, he mentally processed his options. He had no water to wash the wound. He could pull out the knife. He still had some fishing line to stitch himself up. He could potentially rip off some shirt fabric to cover the wound. Usually, he would use sugar to staunch the bleeding, maybe make a sedative out of wild lettuce juice, and maybe use some honey as an antibiotic. But in accordance with the abysmal amount of luck he had been having lately, he found himself impaled and without any good options.

Knowing he would only remain awake a little bit longer, Mike made the decision to plow ahead. In times like these, Mike had developed a trick to help himself stay calm that he liked to call, “The Perfect Dinner”. In practice he used this trick by verbally saying a food each second, every second. On every third movement, he would calmly and deftly complete the task. This trick had actually been the idea behind the most satisfying dinner he had ever made. The process was unnecessary slow for most undertakings, and he rarely had to resort to using it, but even compared to sewing his shoulder closed earlier, this was going to be painful and require an immense amount of precision.

“Potatoes… Butter… Garlic-ugh”, he deftly wrapped his hand around the dagger hilt with his good hand, biting back the groan that was escaping his lips.

“Hot rolls… Honeyed carrots… Stea–aagh—k”, Mike failed to stop a small scream from escaping his lips as he pulled the dagger free. Despite the free flowing blood, he continued onward.

“Lettuce… Avocado… Feta Cheese'', he focused wholly on the image of the ideal salad in his mind as he put pressure on the wound with his bad hand, while his good hand slipped the fishing line and hook from his pocket. Luckily, he hadn’t had the time to take the hook off the string, and it was already ready to go.

11 stitches later, Mike had a four course meal framed in his mind that would put any Thanksgiving feast to shame, complete with three different beverages and raspberry bread pudding for dessert. Accepting the inevitable, he began to allow the darkness to take hold, glad that his dying thoughts had been focused on one of life’s true passions.

A notification made its way through the darkness:

[Congratulations! You have leveled up your skill First Aid, now level 3.

+1 to Intelligence

Healing activities will be 30% more effective and 30% less painful.]

[Congratulations! New skill ability unlocked: Hands of Healing

Once every 24 hours, you may instantly heal any one wound.

This ability has a slight chance to render the recipient unconscious for 4 hours]

Grasping at straws and unsure how to actually use this new ability, he put his hands on his stomach and then focused on Hands of Healing, hoping that this ability activated the same way as the Menu Bart had talked about.

[Use Hands of Healing? yes/no

Note: At level 1, and with current luck score,

chance of unconsciousness above 98%]

He focused all his being on the ‘yes’ inside of the notification and was instantly assaulted by a brilliant white light. Soon the light dissipated and the encroaching darkness closed across his vision, leaving him unconscious.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

Mike was awakened by a male voice after what seemed like only a few minutes.

“Stupid Dave, won’t even watch a guy’s back while he takes a leak. With all of the monsters in these woods, you would think a friend could at least do that for you.”

Due to Mike’s grogginess, he didn’t actually understand what the voice was talking about until footsteps were sounding right outside of his shelter and his worst fears were about to become realized. Acting in a state of panic enhanced instinct, he propelled himself out of the shelter as quickly as he could, rolling to a crouch as soon as his head was clear. Shock, embarrassment, horror, and confusion all warred for dominance on the stranger’s as he tried to process what had almost happened. Slowly, the emotions gave way to resolve as the stranger reached for the small sword at his belt.

Mike had already been injured three times in this new world, and he was done allowing surprises to get the best of him. Flicking out his hand, he propelled the dagger right at the man’s face. Though only two feet away, somehow the stranger managed to block the dagger, his face broadcasting his surprise at the lucky turn of events. But the dagger was only ever meant to be a decoy, and Mike was already midway through his next attack. Rolling close to the stranger, he pulled out his Dayton ax and sliced viciously at the back of the man’s ankles, severing the tendons and causing him to collapse. The stranger’s scream was cut short as Mike propelled himself next to the stranger’s head and brought the blade down as hard as he could on the neck.

Thunk.

Crack.

Somehow, the ax had rebounded off of what should have been very soft tissue, and once again smacked Mike in the head. Luckily, he had been able to track the movement better this time and was able to turn his head, avoiding another broken nose at the cost of a building headache.

Breathing heavily, he began thinking through the next steps in his survival. Up until this point, he had only fought in self defense, and blatant killing just didn’t seem right. On the other hand, the village inhabitants were willing to hunt him for sport, and likely wouldn’t stop until he made them. Firming his resolve, Mike determined that if these people were only sent to respawn, maybe he could use his training to scare them away from chasing him anymore. But first, he needed to figure out the Menu.

Toggling into the Menu, Mike was astonished at the amount of information available to him. While tech had always been hard for him, the Menu seemed to be almost intuitive to his brain, and he was able to get oriented quickly. The first thing he focused on was notifications. There were many variations in how notifications could be displayed, but he decided on what seemed the most useful configuration for his needs. Now, items would only show notifications on command. Enemies showed how much experience they gave towards the next level. And all nonurgent notifications would be turned off while in combat. Next he focused on his character sheet, which seemed to just be a summary of who he was in this new world. After some finangling, he had a working model for going forward.

Name: Mike

Monster Type: Unlucky

Level: 3

Strength: 12

Dexterity: 12

Intelligence: 13

Charisma: 7

Toughness: 12

Luck: 3

Stat Points awaiting assignment: 9

Abilities: Tumble (1), First Aid (3)

Skill Abilities: Hands of Healing (1)

Breathing out as he looked at his character sheet, Mike tried to think through where to assign his stat points. He couldn’t increase his luck, which kind of summarized his life even before the System integration. Charisma probably wouldn’t be super useful, assuming he was the only human classified as a monster, he likely wouldn’t be talking to others anytime soon–was it possible that he could reach a point that he was so visually appealing that others wouldn’t go after him? It was food for thought, but he didn’t think it likely. That left Strength, Intelligence, Dexterity and Toughness that were actually worth his time. He wasn’t entirely sure how strength and toughness differed, so for now, he decided to just keep things even. Increasing all of those skills to 14 left him two points in reserve for later.

Mike exited the Menu after applying his changes and looked around at the forest bathed in the low light of dusk. Gritting his teeth, he centered himself and began his night’s work.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

Dave had initially refused to help watch Jebediah’s back while he went to the bathroom and had sent his friend off alone to do his business. After Jebediah hadn’t returned, Dave had gotten worried and set off on his own, leaving the larger group in search of his friend. Now, hours later, the forest was pitch black and he was hopelessly lost. Several hours ago, he had started to see things in the shadows and gotten too scared to continue. Trying to find a defensible position wasn’t very feasible in this forest, but he eventually found a place where some large boulders came together, forming a natural shelter. It wasn’t very big, and there wasn’t a roof, but he would definitely be able to see anything that approached him as he sat watching the single entrance with bloodshot eyes.

Dave sat still, rigid as a statue, staring at the entrance to the cave for what seemed like an eternity. Suddenly, he realized that the forest had gone very quiet. Fearing the worst, Dave stood up and drew his sword. A few moments later, Dave heard the faintest murmur in the wind.

“Chili.”

“Cornbread.”

“Funeral Potatoes.”

Dave’s brain failed to register the dagger that flew end over end through the entrance to his shelter before his world went black.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Mike struggled to keep his face passive as he viewed the fruits of his latest kill:

[Congratulations! You have learned the skill Knife Throwing.

+1 to Dexterity.

Accuracy and distance of thrown knives increased by 10%.

Continue training hard to develop even more skills]

It had been an incredibly hard shot, at almost 20 paces from where his latest victim was hiding, and despite his efforts to not revel in killing, he felt a small measure of pride at his perfect throw. He wouldn’t have even noticed the man inside of the rocky cave if he hadn’t been following the man’s footprints for the last few minutes. Still, there was something incredibly satisfying in the way that the System recognized all of the skills he had honed over the years, and it made him wonder what other skills he could eventually pick up in this new world. Twenty minutes had passed since he had begun actively hunting his would-be pursuers, and he had already gained another skill. With his training, the darkness was his greatest asset, and he was sure that he could take on more people with enough planning and forethought.

After some backtracking, Mike was able to see where his latest victim had left the group of pursuers and set off on his own. It was at this point that he was awarded with another skill.

[Congratulations! You have learned the skill Tracking.

+1 to Intelligence

It takes experience to find someone who doesn’t want to be found

Continue training hard to develop even more skills]

He felt another thrill of satisfaction, and this time he was unable to fully contain it from bubbling up and causing him to smile broadly. It felt nice to have the skills he had spent years perfecting acknowledged, even by an entity that he didn’t fully understand. While his ability to track and throw knives had been appreciated by his boy scout troops, he had never really been proud of them since he had stopped active duty, but suddenly, they served a purpose again. Feeling more useful than he had in years, he focused on following his quarry’s trail, and the hours blurred together until he was gradually able to make out some light coming from between the trees only a couple of hundred yards away. It was now just a few hours from morning, the darkest part of the night, and his moving form was nearly invisible among the shrubbery.

Employing all the stealth he had been trained with, Mike used the darkness to get within 80 yards of the camp, and could just make out the first sentry standing guard. He didn’t know whether to laugh or feel bad for the poor sentry that had chosen to stand guard facing the fire, ruining his night vision and ensuring that Mike would be able to approach completely unseen. Sneaking up behind the sentry, he clamped his over the man’s mouth and brought his Dayton ax up to his neck, sending him to respawn. Slowly lowering the man’s body to the ground, he dragged it back a few paces to where it couldn’t be easily seen. As he did so, he noticed that his arm no longer hurt at all, even though Bart had only injured it about 10 hours earlier.

Putting off his curiosity, he circled the camp, picking off the other five sentries one by one. After the second sentry, he was greeted with a notification, saying he had advanced to level 4, but ignored it in favor of continuing his silent slaughter.

After taking care of the other four sentries, Mike paused to consider what he had learned in the last 30 minutes. The first two sentries had had the number 25 floating above their heads, and the next four had the number 12.5. According to how he had set up his Menu, and based on his calculations, that would mean that his last four kills had all gotten him one quarter of the way to 100, and the next three only got him one eighth. Was it possible that each level required double the amount of kills to progress? That would mean that the jump to get from one level to the next would soon require wanton slaughter to make any progress. Even knowing that his victims would respawn, and despite the euphoric feeling he got with each level increase, this wasn’t what he wanted long term. Reminding himself that his whole purpose for the night was to make sure everyone else feared coming near him, he approached the camp, determination written on every line of his face in response to the grim task at hand.

The first three assassinations were carried out in complete silence, and the camp slept on. It was the fourth assassination where his luck ran out. His swift chop to the sleeping man’s neck resulted in a very untimely rebound on the part of his Dayton ax, breaking the bone above his right eye and causing his voice to break the silence of the night.

“Rotten, meat-loving, cabbage patch!” Even as the words left his mouth, Mike flattened himself to the ground, hoping that somehow everyone had slept through his latest outburst, but knowing that that probably wasn’t the case.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

Ralph was suddenly awakened in the darkness of the night, unsure of what had roused him. After a few seconds had passed, he rolled over to his other side, seeking to once again get comfy. Expecting to see his friend Bartholomew, he instead came face to face with a man in his mid sixties, his upper pate bald, his arms muscular. One of the man’s eyes was bright red and beginning to swell, the other regarded him with cold pity. His heart trembling, Ralph looked above the man’s head in trepidation, where the man’s status burned a deep red.

Mike the Unlucky

300

Realizing that he was actually facing a monster that would give him a full three level ups, Ralph knew he was outclassed and his mouth opened without conscious thought,

“AAAH..ugh”

………………………………………………………………………………………….

Another level up notification did little to calm Mike’s dread as the camp began to rouse in response to the latest shout. Acting on instinct, he dumped 5 of his now 8 available stat points into Dexterity and the other 3 into Toughness, then propelled himself to his feet and sprang towards his next closest victim. Whirling from person to person, he quickly dropped another three bodies. Shocked at how slowly they moved, he easily dodged their clumsy attacks. Unbeknownst to Mike, his average opponent was only level 1 and had anywhere from 8-12 Dexterity. This meant that he was actually moving more than double the speed of some of his adversaries. But seeing the now 400 experience points that his death would grant, the 25 remaining individuals continued to throw themselves at him in a frenzy. Mike was able to bat aside the first three, only taking glancing blows from a few lucky swings, but took another ax rebound right to the bone of his outer thigh, causing him to stumble.

“The stupid ax is only supposed to rebound 1% of the time, how come this happens every few hits?” Mike screamed at the world, attempting to once again find his footing.

Just as he was regaining his balance, a large club swung in and connected with his chest, cracking a few ribs and sending him flying through the air. Allowing his body to take over, he arrested control of his momentum and was able to use it to clumsily roll his battered body to his feet.

[Congratulations! You have learned the skill Hardened Skin.

+1 to toughness.

It has been your misfortune to take quite a beating from blunt objects.

Damage taken from blunt objects will now be reduced by 10%]

[Congratulations! You have leveled up your skill Tumble, now level 2.

+1 to Strength, Toughness, and Dexterity]

Knowing he had worn out his welcome, he pulled out the 5 knives he had pilfered off of bodies from earlier that night, throwing them in quick succession as he inched his way backwards. Three of the knives brought down their targets, but the other two only managed to hit in less vital areas, doing surface damage. Still, the sudden barrage was enough to bring his pursuers to a stop.

The two forces stood facing each other 20 feet apart. A bruised and battered Mike staring down 22 foes. The tension was palpable, and for an instant, no one moved. The huge man who had managed to hit Mike with a club seemed to find his courage first and took a step to close the gap. Sighing in regret, Mike immediately pulled Bart’s dagger from his back waistband and flicked it straight into the man’s eye, bringing his kill count to 6 for this level and granting him another level in the Knife Throwing skill.

Seeing the fight die from the remaining 21 pairs of eyes, Mike slowly backed into the forest, managing to stay upright and steady until he was completely out of the cultists view. Only then did he allow himself to feel the pain that he had been holding back, realizing that he may have been hit a few more times than he realized. His slouched body swayed drunkenly as he slowly made his way back to the safety of his valley.