Trees blurred as Kaius sprinted through the forest.
He thought he heard crashing behind him. The bandits were on his tail. He'd easily had a league's head start when he saw them on the top of a precarious ridge line. One of them had been pointing at him, a thick ropey scar on the man's face.
They'd closed the distance so fast.
A root caught his foot, sending him stumbling. A thrown out arm caught his fall, the bark of the oak digging in painfully. He had to get to Father.
They had a tracker. He knew it. Otherwise, he would have lost them. Even if they'd only just moved into this area of the forest, he'd lived in the Sea since he was a boy. He could cross it better than any village hunter he'd met.
There, up ahead. It was the elm with the strange split in its trunk. He'd pointed it out to Father a few days ago. He was almost there.
He pushed on, ignoring the way his heart slammed in his chest. How each breath felt like a knife blade on his throat.
He just had to get to Father.
Kaius came smashing through the underbrush, stumbling to a stop in front of their cooking fire. A pot of soup was bubbling away. His father looked up, green eyes wide in surprise. He wasn't supposed to be back for another good hour or two.
"Kaius!" Hastur said, jumping to his feet. "What's wrong, boy? Are you alright?" he asked.
Kaius bent over, panting, as he struggled to get the words out. "Bandits! Right behind! Think they have a tracker!"
Hastur's face went cold. He moved. Blurring into their tent. A moment later he was in front of him. Shoving his pack into his hands even as he shrugged on his armoured leather and chain jacket.
"Go!" he shouted, pointing in the opposite direction that Kaius had come running from.
"But-" Kaius tried to protest.
"Now! Fool boy!" he all but screamed, shoving Kaius. "This is what we prepared for! You know our legacy, you can merge the rest of the skills yourself! Go!"
Kaius felt the panic rising. He couldn't leave. Father could handle them. He was only supposed to leave if there was no chance. They were only bandits.
"I-"
Hastur slapped him, the stinging mark bringing tears to his eyes.
"Go! If I don't find you, I'm already dead. Go!" Hastur shoved him again.
Reality collapsed. His father's words sinking in. He had to leave. Kaius shrugged his pack on as fast as he could. He took a second to double check he had properly secured his sword. A heavy hand slapped on his shoulder.
"Fool boy." His father looked him dead in the eye. "I love you. Now go!" The rough shove sent Kaius stumbling.
He went.
Hastur drew Art In Motion, the longsword gleaming as it caught the light. It was a masterwork, a strange blade with a section of diamond cutouts through its centre. A blade that no longer fit him, not as reduced as he was. He'd always been wary of giving it up. He'd made the thing after all. It would serve him well today.
They'd finally found him. Of course, it had to be today. A few short years and the boy would have been gone. Such was luck. The Lady had always had it out for him. For Unterstern.
They arrived.
Nearly thirty of them exited the underbrush, moving to surround the camp. He supposed he should feel flattered, sending that many for little old him.
One of them stepped forward, into the edge of the camp. Garbed in thick leathers that had seen better days, he was a tall and imposing man with a savage scar cutting down his face.
"Y'vesh, take Job and the archers. Go find the boy. Don't kill him, just rough him up and scare the shit out of him. He's needed alive." The leader of the troupe said, his eyes never moving from Hastur's own.
"Yes, sir." A ratty figure fled, six men with long bows right at his tail.
Hastur lunged for them. The leader of the bandits tutted, moving to block him as the rest of the bandits closed ranks. Hastur growled in fury.
"I don't know what you want, harassing a hunter and his son like this. If you think us easy prey, I'm sorry to tell you, but you are sorely mistaken," he spat. With a flicker of intent, he focused his True Sight on the leader.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
??? - ??? - Level 157:
???, ???, ???
Hastur grit his teeth. No common bandit had an anti-scrying skill that powerful, nor were they that level. They really had found him. Leather hand wraps creaked as his grip tightened on his sword.
"Come now, Hastur." The man said, slowly circling the camp. Forcing him to move to keep him in sight. "Art In Motion is far too distinctive for that to work. You can drop the pretence." His voice was gratingly smug.
"Hells." Hastur swore. He knew he should have gotten rid of the fucking thing.
"I'll admit, you're a hard man to find." The leader continued. "I had to search the whole of bloody Vaastivar for over a decade before I found a lead in Deadacre." He smiled, sinister and bleak. "I guess that's why I'm paid so much."
"If you know who I am, then you know what I am capable of. I suggest you leave." Hastur's voice was flat. Hard.
"Maybe once, Hastur. Maybe once. But now? With your class shattered and your body ruined?" The man laughed. "I think you'll find you are much more manageable. I'm honestly impressed you can even walk after you were poisoned. Soul Rend is nasty stuff, after all." he said with a sneer.
Hastur spat at the bounty hunter, spittle flying to splatter against the man's trousers.
He looked down with disgust. "Now that's just uncouth." He looked back up. "Unbefitting of a Risen house of Locrua, don't you think?"
"I tire of these games," the man continued. "Teach me the method for acquiring the Unterstern legacy skills, and I'll let you and the boy go. On my honour as a professional. If you don't? I'll kill you and torture it out of your boy," the man said icily.
"You can fucking try." Hastur ground out.
He charged.
Branches whipped Kaius's face, stinging his tear tracked cheeks. The depraved men at his tail hooted and hollered. He heard a cry in the distance - was it his father, or one of the bandits? Kaius wanted to turn back. To stand his ground and help his father defend their camp!
He grit his teeth and ran faster.
Duty demanded his flight. His father, Hastur, had drilled him for this moment for years. The knowledge of their family's legacy skills that they held was too valuable. One of them had to survive, to carry on the legacy.
His father should be fine. Even crippled, locked out from the use of his class skills, Hastur still had the tyranny of stats to lean on.
So he ran.
An arrow whistled past his head.
"That's it! Run boy!"
The ingrates were laughing at him!. Taunting him as they leisurely kept pace. His head whipped back. He glimpsed a figure garbed in ratty leathers that could have been called quality a decade ago.
He might know the forest better than their best. It didn't matter. They had a class. He did not.
So he ran. Faster and harder than he ever had before.
**Ding! Physical Conditioning has reached Level 13**
Kaius ignored the notification, pumping his arms harder. His longsword thumped into his hip with every stride. He longed to draw it and turn on his pursuers. He was practically guaranteed to be the better swordsman: Warforged was his second combined skill. Even if it was low level, its method of creation was a secret for a reason.
All the skill in the world would matter little against five full grown men, all of whom would be considerably stronger and faster than him. There was no way any one of them was under level fifty.
As the trees whipped by him, arrows consistently flew close enough for him to know they could have hit him - if only the archer wanted them to. Kaius heard the growing roar of a river.
"Shit," he swore. He had forgotten about that. Too strong and swift for him to pass safely, it may as well have been a solid wall. The bandits certainly hadn't.
They'd been herding him.
He had no choice. He would hit the banks of the river soon. Already he could see the spray that was kicked off the rapids as it hit the light. He couldn't go left, the river quickly looped backwards which would lead him back to the majority of the bandit group's forces. He would have to go right.
It might kill him, but that was better than the only other option available to him.
Planting his foot firmly on a tree root he pushed off. Kaius heard the muffled curse of one of his pursuers. They hadn't expected that.
The roaring of the river grew louder, a cacophony that almost drowned out his pursuit.
Sunlight streamed through the trees, revealing the edge of the forest line as it retreated from the banks of the river.
Dipping and dodging Kaius wove through the trunks, arrows hitting home with a thwack as they landed around him. The bandits had given up their pretences and were trying to hit him with real seriousness.
He burst onto the river bank and was confronted by a solid wall of mist and haze. Vision obscured, his only hint of his destination was a violent roar to his front.
Ahead of him the land fell away, a sharp demarcation delineating earth and sky like the ground had been cut free. The river howled as it shot straight over the cliff's edge. Kaius's chest thumped as he grasped the enormity of what he was about to do. It was a steep drop.
He and his father moved camp regularly; they'd only arrived in this area of the Arboreal Sea a few days ago. Neither of them had managed to find a path to the base of the falls yet.
Even if it was free of rocks, the undertow created by a river of this size was more than enough to drown him.
His jaw clenched as he stared at the slice of sky, sprinting straight for the edge. Just a few more long-strides and he would make it.
"Job, take him down!"
A line of white fire shot through his left leg.
Bitter resistance surged through him, he only had one option.
Kaius threw himself forward.
Over the edge of the waterfall.
The forest stretched out below him, an endless mat of green. Vanishing over the horizon as the glistening snake of a river coursed its way through the wild terrain.
Then gravity reasserted itself.
Kaius let out a scream of terror as he plunged towards the watery depths below.
Bubbles swirled around him, colossal forces pulling him from every direction. Water surrounded him on all sides, stabbing with an icy chill. Weighing him down, soaking his travelling clothes. He tried to kick, to force his way upwards. Agonising heat shot through his leg, the limb flapping ineffectively.
It was broken.
He was going to drown.
Fighting to move, he tried to discern which way was up even as he was thrown and twisted around by the currents.
His vision started to tunnel; a deep burning ache settling into his lungs.
I'm going to drown.
Still he struggled, Rapid Adaptation fighting to keep the fear at bay.
The faintest hint of a scintillating glow rose up from the depths, too blue to be the surface, growing brighter as he was forced down by the hammerblow of water from the falls.
It was forgotten in his all-consuming need for air.
The black closed in.
Then…nothing.
He was falling again.
Back hit stone. Hard. His head smacked into the ground with a crack that he felt in his teeth. He heard water hit the ground with a splash, drenching his surroundings. The sharp pain rose him to full wakefulness - a cough and a splutter forced out the water in his lungs, leaving him retching.
Pushing his sopping hair out of his eyes he looked around, shocked at his continued survival. Eyes adjusted to a soft light, far dimmer than the sun he was used to, though still more than enough to see by. He was in a damp cavern, the lighting immediately explained by a thin patchy coating of phosphorescent moss. Roots speared through the light intermittently, bursting through stone and moss alike.
It smelled horrible.
He pushed himself up into a sitting position, wincing at the pain in his leg. Ever the useful skill, Rapid Adaptation prevented the pain from paralysing him, but it did not remove it.
Evidently it hadn't been enough time for his Health to regenerate his wound.
Looking over the cavern floor, Kaius spotted an impressive number of fish carcases in varying states of decomposition. "That explains the smell."
Eyes widened as he realised he had no idea if his gear had been ripped off him in his fall. Training took over, his hands searching for the presence of his pack and longsword. Both had a variety of minor enchantments, so they would have been undamaged by the water. If they stayed attached to him in the violent turbulence of the waterfall.
He breathed a sigh of relief as he felt both the hilt of his sword at his waist and the top of his pack peaking over his back.
"Small miracle, that. More importantly though, where in the hells am I?"
He looked to the ceiling where he must have fallen from, confused by the lack of water. Kaius quickly found his answer in the form of a dull circle of runes inscribed in the ceiling. He recognised them from his father's lessons. He'd had it hammered into him that they were to be avoided at all costs, at least until he was ready.
A portal to the Great Depths. One whose counterpart had ripped him across space to deposit him here.
With impeccable timing the System thrust a notification in front of his face,
**Welcome to the Great Depths.**
Layer: 2
Biome: Overgrown Graves
Kaius groaned as he read the message.
"Fuck. Layer two though. It could be worse."
Being on the second layer of the dungeon meant he would be facing monsters with an average level range of ten to twenty. Not the worst, certainly within his capabilities if he was slow, meticulous, and incredibly careful.
It wasn't that that worried him however. It was one of the reasons his father had impressed on him to avoid the Depths if he ever stumbled on an entrance. A tongue-lashing he had received after getting a little too curious about the glowing circles that dotted the forest above.
Firstly that the entrances were one way - and once used would not be usable again for a period of time that could range from a few minutes to months.
Once in, you had no way of knowing how long it would be until you could receive assistance. Which didn't matter if the portal you fell through was at the base of a fucking waterfall!
The lesson had only one other component. There was only one way out of the Depths. You had to slay one of the Guardians that defended a portal to the surface and a portal deeper. You could traverse laterally. Moving through biomes to find a favourable match up. But you had to kill a Guardian.
Something no unclassed had survived. Ever. Not even on the first layer.
Monstrous beyond compare, the Guardians had a far higher level than the layer average, with far more power per level than a common Depths-born. They even had access to class skills. His father said trying to face them was practically suicide unless you were with a full team of appropriate levelled Delvers.
Kaius slumped backwards onto the damp stone.
"No problem. I've just got to make history if I want to survive." He put his head in his hands.
Still, he was breathing. He had his gear. His training. If he was careful, the danger of the Depths should aid him in acquiring and levelling the skills he needed to create the legacy skills he was aiming for. They were a significant force multiplier, and if he managed all ten before his class selection, he should get offered quite the selection of classes. With a class and a few levels under his belt, it might be enough.
He would just have to survive the two years until his class selection. Alone. In the Depths. Fuck.
"Okay, immediate plans. Set up a safe base of operations. Father said monsters wouldn't come into entrance rooms, so I'm safe for now. It might take him a few weeks, but he will find this entrance when he deals with the bandits."
Stuck in place for the foreseeable future, Kaius reverted to his training. His leg still ached from the fall and the arrow wound, but at the least it was no longer broken thanks to the regenerative properties of his Health.
Step one would be assessing his status and how long his recovery would take. Realistically, a few hours at the most. Then, scouting and securing a lasting source of food and water. Based on the biome name he would most likely be facing a mix of undead types and beast types. Or undead beasts, which could cause an issue.
Long term he would just have to sit tight, work on his training, and wait for his father.
"If he even survives the bandits..." the thought came unbidden.
Kaius tried to force the fear out of his mind, leaning on his skill to drive off its paralysing grip on his throat. Hastur, Father, would be fine. He was strong. In all their years of sparring, Kaius had never even come close to besting him. Even now he was a man grown with a Unique weapons skill, Father still trounced him easily. After all, he had the same skill at a far higher level, and had far more stats to boot.
Hells, the hunters in the frontier villages that bordered the Sea tipped him their hats in a deference they showed no others.
"But if he had a flare up.." The last one happened just yesterday. A wracking fit of coughs and muscle spasms that had left him gasping and weak for hours.
Kaius scrunched his eyes shut.
"Status and survival first." he thought, letting out a slow and steady breath to calm himself.
Status:
Name: Kaius
Dynasty: Unterstern
Age: 18
Class Selection: 1 Year, 49 weeks, 6 days
Level: N/A
Race: Human (Dynastic) - +1 free stats per level
Layer Reached: 2
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Resources:
Health - 0/200 (2/min)
Stamina - 86/190 (2/min)
Mana - 120/120 (2/min)
Stats:
Endurance - 20
Vitality- 20
Strength - 19
Dexterity - 20
Intelligence - 12
Willpower: - 20
Stat Points: 0
Class Skills (0/10):
N/a
General Skills (10/10):
Rapid Adaptation (Heroic) - 10
Warforged (Unique) -16
Tracking (Common) - 20
Sneak (Common)- 20
Trap Finding (Uncommon)- 20
Orienteering (Common)- 20
Herbalism (Uncommon)- 20
Cooking (Common)- 20
Sense Weakness (Rare)- 15
Physical Conditioning (Uncommon)- 13
As he had expected, his Health was hovering at rock bottom. Thanks to his stats being capped at twenty until he got a class, he had a paltry two hundred. All of which had been consumed as his body attempted to heal from the arrow wound, and no doubt whatever considerable damage he had sustained in his fall.
His resource regeneration was similarly low, but even still he could feel the barest pulse of heat surging through his body. The small blips of regenerated Health instantly consumed to heal his injuries.
His Stamina was rather drained too, but he had enough to function on. Besides, he wouldn't be leaving until his Health was full, by which point it would have long since topped off.
With that done he scooted over to the edge of the wall, making sure to avoid the manky and very old fish carcases that dotted the cavern floor. With a heave, Kaius pushed himself atop a stray root that seemed to jut out of the floor, lifting himself out of the splash zone of any further potential water drops.
He probably could have hobbled over, but Kaius didn't want to accidentally reinjure anything partially healed. He didn't want to spend any longer than necessary waiting for his health to fill.
Groaning in discomfort, Kaius decided to inventory his skills in order to take his mind off his leg. His third legacy skill was coming along nicely. He only had to max out Sense Weakness and Physical Conditioning at twenty in order to merge them, and the rest of his motley collection of Common and Uncommon skills, into Explorer's Toolkit.
Normally that would have taken him a few more months. They were combat focused skills. Sense Weakness was self explanatory, and the second slightly reduced the stamina cost of physical activity.
Normally he would be steadily training both in controlled hunts with his father. Down here though, he more than expected that they would be seeing a lot of use.
It was just his luck that the ambush had occurred now, before he could merge the Unusual legacy skill. Far greater than the sum of its parts, it was one of the broadest survival focused skills he had ever heard of. It would be invaluable for keeping him breathing in the world dungeon. He'd need to prioritise capping Sense Weakness and Physical Conditioning as fast as he could.
After that he'd be able to work on his dynasty's legacy defensive skill. That, the survival skill, and Rapid Adaptation and Warforged might just be enough to ensure his safety. He'd need that. He couldn't only focus on just barely surviving. That would make it impossible for him to acquire and merge the component skills he needed for the rest of his legacy skills.
Especially the sixth and seventh skills in his legacy. They were vital for the plans he had for his class. Without them, there was no chance he would be able to practise weaving and binding runic spell inscriptions to his flesh. Something that would let him cast without the channelling time and focus requirements of a normal mage.
Without practice, it wouldn't influence his class. Without that influence, he would need to pick a channelling class if he wanted access to magic. Which would mean the sway of his close combat legacy skills on his class selection would go to waste. No one used channelled magic in melee, it was suicide. He had one shot at a class that blended magic and blade.
There was no way he was going to let being trapped in the Depths come between him and his goals.
Besides, if he managed to complete the full set of his legacy skills and practise such a unique method of bodily imbuement, he was sure to be offered an Unusual - or maybe even Unique - class. That would give him just the edge he needed to slay the Guardian and escape.
Not exploiting his legacy skills to the fullest extent possible would be a waste, and a stain on his family name. Even one merged from only three or four general skills was worth a noble's ransom. The ones that were part of the limited few that were an open secret only slightly less so.
A good general skill could change fates. Hell, an old hunter who had shared their fire once had boasted that the only reason he felt comfortable ranging so far into the Sea was that he had been lucky enough to unlock two Unusual skills. If only the man had known what his and his father's skills looked like. Unusual was usually the lowest rarity for a legacy skill - though some more common merges of two to three skills were Rare.
Yet, despite their power- their frankly insane value- almost no one actively hunted for combinations. You only had ten general skill slots, and you couldn't remove skills. The chances of the skills not merging and leaving you with a motley collection of poorly optimised junk burning a hole in your status was astronomical. Even if by some small miracle you did have the right skills? If they were in the wrong order they wouldn't merge.
A favoured fable, that was. The noble scion who refused to listen closely to his parents, ending up with five Mastery skills instead of Master-at-Arms.
Kaius shook his head.
Some people might be willing to risk two, three, maybe even four of their general skills in order to attempt to discover a legacy skill. But more than that? All ten? Pure lunacy. He'd once heard from a Hiwiann caravan that some Greenseed duke had announced he had received a skill guide as loot from a Guardian. His father -Hastur- had said it was more likely to be political posturing. A convenient way to boost the renown of any future scions.
Kaius thanked the gods that he had the favour to be born into a dynasty with such an insanely valuable hoard of knowledge. No one, not even the mighty dukes of Greenseed, openly flaunted a complete set of legacy skills. The shattering of the empire was said to have started over such a legacy.
It was the stuff of legends. Ten skills merged into the first slot, nine into the second, and so on. He'd heard a bard once, telling the story of a lucky boy with such a set ascending to godhood the moment he got his class. Ridiculous of course, his father had the same set as him and was still very much human.
But the benefits were very real, and the dangers of someone finding it out just as heavy. It almost frightened him. People would kill for even one of his skills. Hells, he'd literally overheard more than one disgruntled farmer mutter about kidnapping a noble to secure a legacy for their own sons. Bluster in the face of a noble's might, but the intent was there. Let alone if they found out a full set would lead to a free evolution of your final general skill.
He now understood why his father wouldn't even let him out of their rented rooms when they had visited villages when he was a young child. Too afraid he would let the secret slip.
Father had always been cagey with exactly how they came to possess such a bounty. Nor why they had no hold, clan, sect, or nobility - unlike any other dynasty he had heard of. Why, despite having a king's foundation, they hid like rats in the woods.
He had told Kaius that their dynasty was old. Far older than most. Still, that was the smallest and least difficult of the prerequisites in attaining such a legacy.
Neither had his father explained the origins of his bizarre injuries. The ones that inhibited his abilities to use his active class skills. That caused him such agonising and debilitating flare ups.
It wasn't that hard to guess though. Someone had found out, and when they did his father had been forced to flee. To preserve their legacy. Much like Father had forced him to flee in turn.
Kaius buried his worry for his father's safety. In the end, as much as it burned him to think, it didn't really matter. Father's…condition… had been getting worse over time. His father had done everything he could to stoke his desire to become a Delver. To explore the world and grow strong. See sights unseen, and carry the Unterstern name to lofty heights once again. Promising that once they didn't have to hide his training, he would settle down in one of the frontier villages and stop pushing himself in spite of his affliction.
He'd just thought he'd have more time. Time enough to finish his foundation, and then later to obtain his class. Time to spend with his father. Days on hunt, evenings setting camp, nights sat around the fire.
If those bandits had robbed him of that, there would be a blood debt. One he intended to repay with interest.
He just had to get out of the damn Depths first.
A figure lounged on a throne of rough hewn stone, one leg tossed contemptuously over the armrest. He looked like he was chiselled from granite. All rough angles and hard lines, striated muscle barely concealed from view by a thin robe far too fine to be made of mundane silk.
The chair hovered in an endless black expanse. Vacuous space only broken by a thousand thousand dancing lights. Moving to some unheard tune.
"Report." The figure spoke, words barely scraping free. Like he had nearly forgotten the delicate control it required.
A light floated free of the swarm, drifting over to phase through his skull. The figure sat unmoving. Bored.
**Integration - initiated 13,364 years, 9 months, 3 weeks, 1 day, 14 hours, 38 minutes, and 13 seconds ago**
**Integration Stage 1 - completed 13,289 years, 3 months, 4 days, 19 hours, 8 minutes, and 42 seconds ago**
**Integration Stage 2 - Pending … **
"Useless." The words were forceful. Bitter. An ancient frustration sending the dancing lights into a swarm of anxious activity.
"Summary since last report."
Another light drifted free from the swarm, pulsing as it approached the figure. The light entered their mind. They blinked, a pensive expression crossing their face. A century of history parsed in an instant.
"An unclassed in the depths? First time in a few decades. Probably no chance, just more dead meat." Thick fingers drummed against stone leaving hairline cracks in their wake. They didn't have anything better to do.
"Full historical analysis, Kaius Unterstern."
Another light, another instant.
The figure sat up with a start, leg crushing the stone hand rest in their haste. They frowned at the distraction. A look of intent and the stone was whole again. They turned back to the report, digesting what they learned.
"Maybe… He might make it.
"Observe the boy. Let me know of his progress."
**Attempt forced Observation status?**
"No!" The figure hurried. "But inform me if he meets the criteria."
They leaned back, drumming their fingers into the stone again. Dust flying free with each impact. For the first time in millennia they felt impatient.
"C'mon kid. You might be my ticket back to the fold. Give me an excuse to put my finger on the scale."
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A note from Bacon Macleod
About 50% longer than my average chapter, most clock in at 2.2k with my min being ~2k. I decided to go this route because obligatory exposition is obligatory, and it's nice to get the meat of it out of the way.
For clarity of reference, and something I will post again when you see your first skill:
Rarities (skills, classes, items, etc):
Common, Uncommon, Rare, Unusual, Unique, Heroic, ????
Skill effect scaling per level:
Infinitesimal>Minute>Slight>Moderate> Reasonable> Significant> ????
Kaius stood in the cavern, holding his longsword out in front of him in a ready grip. His eyes coasted over its length, taking in the flawless steel decorated with a strip of sigils down the centre.
The sword had been a gift from Father. It had taken months of brutal sparring to merge Warforged, the second legacy skill in his dynasty's collection. There were times when he almost thought his father hated him, with how mercilessly he had beat him on the training field. He came to understand that it had been necessary. A reality of the looming date of his class selection.
Allegedly made from an alloy of deep essence, meteoric iron, and a miniscule amount of orichalcum, it had been forged by a master smith. Much like the rest of his fathers gifts, it had been personally inscribed with enhancing runes by Father while he worked with a commissioned master craftsman. Their sole trip to Deadacre was a fond memory of an overwhelming riot of people, sounds, and smells. His burning desire to get out and see the world had only grown after that.
He'd watched Father use runes to make an arrow that had shot clean through a boulder once, shattering the stone like an egg shell. Yet the enchantments on his blade were comparatively minor. Thanks to its superior make and materials he could comfortably cut through leather and bone with ease. Durable, scalpel sharp, and perfectly balanced.
Its enchantments only served to reinforce those points. Magics of an unbreaking and self repairing nature. A honed edge that would never dull. Resistance to the elements, and the passing of time.
Father almost certainly could have enchanted the blade so the barest of nicks would have rent the life from his foes. At least, the sort of foes that he had any business facing in the first place.
That would have defeated the entire purpose of the gift. It was a tool. Reliable and dependable, certainly. But not something that would remove all challenges he would face. Father had sat him down on the very first day he gained the ability to learn skills, explaining it to him. They grew through struggle and strife. The strength of your class offering influenced in much the same manner. There were no shortcuts.
Even before he unlocked his access to skills and stats at fifteen, the entirety of Kaius's life had been that of preparation. How to identify food and clean water, how to hunt and kill, two hours of running every morning, how to staunch an artery and more. All with practical examples - though in the case of an arterial bleed, it had been his father who had suppressed his healing and opened his brachial artery. Too dangerous for a boy without Health, his father had said.
Not that that had made it any less traumatising. He still remembered the way Father's face had gone slowly white, while he was coated up to the elbows in his father's blood.
It had been, and still was, the only way he would ever complete his skill evolutions and cap them at twenty in the measly five years between matriculation and class selection. With a good class he would have had a ticket out of the forest, one that his father had wholeheartedly supported him on. Promising that he had something lined up in Three Fields when that happened. That they wouldn't need to hide when there was no chance of somebody spying on his training.
He'd wanted to be a Delver. Now he had to be one before he was ready.
There was no way he was going to let being trapped in the Depths come between him and that goal. Hell, given the way skill levelling responded to danger, it would probably even be a boon.
He'd had a level up for Warforged in the works for weeks now, and a single level might just be the difference that would keep him alive. A little training wouldn't hurt. Besides, there was no way he was going to explore the depths without his Health topped off.
He raised his blade into a high guard, flowing smoothly through his stances. Weaving between imaginary enemies as his sword flashed out with blurring speed. A swift parry and riposte, twirling into an overhead strike that cleaved through an 'enemy' attempting to sneak up behind him.
On and on he moved, working out his feelings of frustration and uncertainty. Feeling the rhythms of his movements, and the slow burn of his muscles. Between his stamina and his Physical Conditioning he continued for a while, a familiar thrilling heat welling up within him.
**Ding! Warforged has reached level 17!**
Warforged:
Level 17
Unique
The pedigree of slaughter stretches far. From fist and rock, to bow and spear. The history of violence reaches to time primordial. You have steeped yourself in its arts.
Skill that enhances technical mastery with all weapons and improves the lethality of strikes. Novel and exotic weapons require a period of familiarisation that reduces with level.
Each level moderately increases proficiency with all weapons.
Each level slightly increases speed, control, and power of strikes
Merged from: Unarmed mastery, Improvised Weapon Mastery, Throwing Mastery, Dagger Mastery, Axe Mastery, Pole Weapon Mastery, Mace Mastery, Sword Mastery, Archery Mastery
Kaius stopped halfway through his swing, his chest heaving.
"Finally," he thought.
Despite the fact that levels slowed as skills reached closer to their cap, Kaius was certain that the danger he was bound to face would only push Warforged to new heights.
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Walking over to a pool of displaced river water that was far away from any rotting fish, Kaius rinsed the sweat off his face.
A quick look at his resources told him he was nearly topped off. He was ready to scout. Looking into the dim exit out of the entrance chamber, Kaius felt a mixture of dread and excitement flow through him.
It would be the first time he would be entering danger without his fathers watchful eye over his shoulder.
Kaius felt his breathing steady - shadows that previously loomed to hide imagined foes now wrapping around him to hide him in their embrace. Using Sneak made him feel at ease, especially in unfamiliar places. Common or not, the way it eased his movements, guided him on how to reduce his presence, was a rare comfort.
Poking his head around the cave's edge he surveyed the area. Much like the entrance room, the tunnel was mostly bare rock illuminated by the odd patch of softly glowing moss. More tree roots that pushed their way free of cracks in the stone. Clawing their way across the walls like creepers.
If it had been anywhere else, the effect would have been pleasant. Almost comely. Growing up in a forest had made Kaius rather fond of natural spaces after all.
Unfortunately, this was the Depths, and the writhing shadows that the roots threw off in the slowly pulsing light grated at his nerves.
Kaius held his sword at the ready.
Kaius wasn't going to bet his life on depths-born making their presence obvious, even if it was common. If there was one thing his father had hammered into him, it was that the Depths seemed to love breaking its own rules when it would put you most at risk. His father had told him about a brush with death he himself had had when a stone elemental had phased through a wall on the fifteenth layer.
That wasn't the only thing he had to contend with either. Tunnel sections were notorious for being littered with traps. If he hadn't had Trap Finding he wouldn't even step foot out of the entrance room.
Unfortunately, a level twenty Uncommon skill was far from enough to ensure his safety, and he had to leave the chamber anyway.
"Okay... Overgrown graves. Already know that probably means beast and undead types, but from the looks of it, the tunnels are following a natural theme. Probably not going to be artificial traps then, I think?"
Kaius scrunched his brow. His father had mostly focused on identifying the depths and parsing biome themes. Any actual lessons on delving strategies had been supposed to come later, once he'd gained his class. It was supposed to be his final lesson. A long awaited send-off before his father settled in for the easy life of a runic inscriptionist. Something he could do without his class skills and without straining his old injuries.
Taking a steadying breath, he took a final look at the safety of the entrance room, double checking that his pack was nestled safely off the floor on an errant root. While it had waterproofing enchantments, he didn't want to risk it being washed away if there happened to be another deluge while he was gone.
He'd made all the preparations he could. It was time to leave.
The passage ran off from the cavern, quickly splintering into a multitude of directions. He decided to keep left. The Delver's classic.
It didn't take long for Kaius to hit his first obstacle. A tangled mess of spiderwebs coated the cave from floor to ceiling, thick enough to almost completely obscure his view. Something darted across, crawling deeper into the nest and out of view.
Massive, hairy and black. Wider than the length of his foot. Physically, probably not all that dangerous. There was no way in hell the things were not venomous though.
'Course the first thing I come across is bloody spiders,' Kaius groaned to himself.
He'd always thought they were unnerving. Too many legs and eyes by far. Plus bugs had no right to have fangs. It simply wasn't right.
He shook his head to throw off his nerves, Depths-born spiders or no, it wasn't like him to quake in his boots at the first sign of a fight. Crouching down Kaius scrounged up a few fist-sized chunks of stone, courtesy of the omnipresent tree roots cracking the surrounding tunnel walls.
He would make them come to him.
Taking a breath to steady himself he stepped out from behind the bend in the tunnel, before pelting the spider's nest with the rocks. The stones sailed through the air, punching easily through the silk webbing.
The trail of carnage was followed by an aggravated chittering. Kaius calmly drew his sword.
"The silks are weak, that's good. No risk of being caught up."
A single spider crawled free of the ruined webbing, approaching his position quickly. Furious at the invader that had dared to violate its nest.
Kaius ran forward, the spider raising its forelegs in response. Kaius thrust, his sword point piercing the creature's thorax.
The hardened steel punched through the bulbous sack of flesh, spilling grey-brown ichor freely across the floor as it clattered against the rock below with a clank. The spider screeched. Flailing, desperate to rid itself of the weapon embedded in its torso. Behind it, Kaius saw more racing towards him from further in the cave. Their numbers grew until they looked like a pulsating mat of black that seemed to bleed up the walls.
Kaius didn't stand on ceremony. He lifted his sword, spider still firmly impaled, and slammed it against the rock wall to his side.
The spider all but exploded.
**Ding! level 5 Lesser Cave Spider slain**
Kaius frowned when he saw the notification, connecting the dots between the below-average level of the monster, and the steady flow of similar spiders that were still leaving the nest.
"Of course it's a bloody swarm."
The next spider dashed at him. With a grunt Kaius stepped forwards, bringing his foot down to stomp on the creature with his full weight.
**Ding! level 4 Lesser Cave Spider slain**
He swallowed his disgust at the resulting crunch-then-squish, already swinging his sword into one of its brethren that had taken to crawling on the wall, wincing as the gush of fluid splattered against his chest.
Still more spiders followed, Kaius fell into a gorge-rising routine of strikes and stomps that splattered both his surroundings and his body in ichor.
The steady flow of spiders abated, leaving just over a handful remaining. His stamina remained high, but it didn't do anything for the hammering of his heart, the burn in his arms, or the bellowing of his lungs.
A weight hit him, scrabbling on his back. Kaius felt a searing pain in his shoulder, numb agony spreading through the muscle from two sharp points. With a cry he reached over and grabbed at something hard and fuzzy.
Yelling in fury he ripped the spider off his back, its fangs tearing at his already healing flesh as the itch of expended Health coated the wound. He threw it to the ground. A rough stomp smushed the monster, its many legs flailing in an attempt to flee.
**Ding! You have been afflicted by Lesser Cave Spider Venom**
Kaius stared in horror at the notification.
"Fuck."
Ding! You have been afflicted by Lesser Cave Spider Venom**
Even as Kaius read the notification, he felt a burning inflamed heat growing from the wound.
"Blasted depths, not now!" he muttered to himself.
Numbness spread through his arm. He had to pick up the pace. A quick look satisfied him that no more spiders were coming to ambush him from the ceiling so he ran forward. Bringing the fight to the remaining handful of spiders.
Without the element of surprise they fared as well as the rest of their brethren. Their sticky ichor coating his boots and the blade of his sword.
Kaius threw his head around, looking all over the walls and ceiling for more of the creatures. Nothing. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest, failing to calm even as he leaned onto the soiled cave wall. Pain, thankfully easy to ignore, shot through his arm and back, radiating out from his wound in lockstep with his heartbeat.
His Health was burning by the second, expended to stave off the violent effects of the venom.
"Gotta get back to the entrance room…" The thoughts came slowly, impeded by the thick fog that had begun to cloud his mind. If he could get there he would be safe from attack, would have time for Rapid Adaptation to work its magic.
With shaking hands Kaius managed to sheathe his sword, too preoccupied by the pain and weakness coursing through his body to bother dealing with the ichor that still coated its hilt. Leaning on the wall with his good arm he began to stumble towards safety, the venom spreading through his body by the second.
He had to make it back.
He would make it back.
Step after arduous step.
He would make it. He had to.
The walls of the cave swayed precariously like a deep sea galleon under Kaius's feet. Grasping for the roots that dotted the wall with a steadying hand did nothing to help with his vertigo.
Stumbling slowly, he made his way through the tunnels. Often he had to stop, convinced he was getting turned around even though his hand never left the rightmost edge of the cave. How many steps was it supposed to be? He was sure it wasn't this far. Wasn't he supposed to be going left?
It was only the radiating ache on his shoulder that kept him grounded. The writhing tendrils of expended Health had retreated from the surface of the wound. Concentrating around the deep well of venom left behind. Coursing through his veins with every heartbeat.
Insistent. Heightening his pain with every throb. Drawing him back from the fog.
He coughed, chest shuddering. A light splatter, his eyes drawn to the red blood.
Kaius checked his Health. The interface flickered into his eyeline a second later, the heavy weight of the poison slowing his thoughts. He watched its value drip away. It might have been slow, but it was decreasing all the same.
"Just need to survive long enough for Rapid Adaptation to do its thing..."
It was a trickle. Slow enough he might make it. As long as there weren't any more spiders - any more venom and his healing wouldn't be able to keep up. The entrance room. That was where he was going. He had to get to the entrance room.
With a groan, Kiaus forced himself to take another step as he leaned heavily on the cave wall.
That's all there was to it. Just one foot after another.
Slumping against the wall of the cavern, he heard a splash. Something soaked through his pants. Was he sitting on the floor?
**Ding! Rapid Adaptation has added a new Resistance: Venom!**
Rapid Adaptation activated. Energy flooded out from his centre, corralling and encapsulating the venom as it purged it from his system. He gasped. The leaden weight on his mind and body retreated quickly.
**Ding! Rapid Adaptation has reached level 11!**
"Finally." Kaius thought to himself
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Rapid Adaptation:
Level 11
Heroic
Danger lurks in every corner. Adapt or die.
This skill allows you to develop resistances to all damage types and afflictions. Novel dangers require a period of adaptation to develop a resistance. Certain sources of damage are harder to adapt to, such as physical harm and esoteric mana types.
Each level slightly increases resistances to dangers you have adapted to.
Each level slightly reduces exposure required to adapt.
Resistances: Pain, Fear, Poison, Disease, Fire, Water, Earth, Air, Void, Aether, Venom
Merged From: Pain Resistance, Fear Resistance, Poison Resistance, Disease Resistance, Fire Resistance, Water Resistance, Earth Resistance, Air Resistance, Void Resistance, Aether Resistance
With a groan Kaius pushed himself out of the puddle he collapsed into. He walked over to where he had secured his pack, retrieving a rag.
"That was not fun," he whispered to himself as he mopped at his slicken face.
He could feel it there still, the waves of nausea and brain fog made sure he wouldn't forget it, but having added Venom to his list of resistances he was in little danger of anything more than discomfort.
He clasped his hands, thanking Ellyntr that he had such a useful skill.
When he was younger he had often complained that it was far less flashy than the stories he had heard villagers tell. Ten-skill merges were supposed to be flashy, weren't they? Like the hero Josan's Astral Strike. Oh, how he had loved to hear how he could pierce any armour, striking at a monster's very soul.
Father had shaken his head at him. Resistance skills were powerful, he said, but too specific for most to make use of. The ability to grow resistant to anything given a little time and exposure? He would appreciate it when it saved his life.
It was one thing to know that Father was probably right. Another entirely to have it proven in his first minutes in the Depths.
Kaius shuddered as he thought back to the nearly two years of discomfort and agony it had taken to level its constituent parts. Each resistance incorporated into the skill had to be done delicately, lest his freshly integrated body give out.
The final two skills he had to raise to their cap before he could merge Rapid Adaptation? Those had been truly hellish. Advanced elemental resistances. Exposure to the effects they defended from was normally enough to easily kill someone many times stronger than him. His father had had to use specialised devices to inflict him with the barest traces of the aspected mana.
Irreplaceable artefacts. Strange bronze cylinders the size of a finger, covered in runic inscriptions denser and smaller than any other enchantment he had seen. Tipped with a fierce needle to be implanted deep into his flesh. First one. Later, dozens.
A single misplacement could have killed him.
Almost did, more than once.
Shaking off the bad memories Kaius finished mopping his face. Taking a deep breath he leaned back, watching the glowing moss pulse. Shift through blues and subtly greens, the asynchronicity warping the shadows.
A short walk through the tunnels brought Kaius back to the remnants of his battle with the spiders. Cracked chitin and sprays of ichor coated the floor of the cave. With a contemptuous sniff, Kaius stepped over the remains of his slain foes and continued on.
Taking his scabbard off his back, Kaius cleared his way through the remaining dense webbing. Wadding itself thick.
A few turns through the tunnels later and he spotted a slow brightening of the light. Emanating from around an upcoming corner. He dropped into a crouch, feeling his Sneak skill guide him into reducing his profile.
Walking into the unknown was a risk that could get him killed. It was also his only option.
Turning the corner, the roots that protruded from the cave wall grew dense and clustered. Leaving him with only a narrow path through a bramble-like mesh. The cave brightened ahead of him, shining through the gaps - though he had yet to see why.
Kaius grunted in dissatisfaction. "Guess I'm moving up."
With each step he tested his footing with the balls of his feet, unwilling to give himself away by accidentally disturbing the increasing number of loose stones that had been torn free by the roots.
As he moved the roof of the cave slowly rose above him, the tunnel widening in much the same way. He pushed further through the snagging roots. A gap appeared ahead, light blinding him after the dimness of the cave. Rushing forwards Kaius yanked on one leg as a particularly ornery root snagged his pants.
He burst through the opening.
Kaius found himself gazing out over an expansive cavern from a vantage point partway up its wall. Far above, the familiar shifting pulse of glowing moss absolutely coated the ceiling. Providing far more light, though the cavern's edges were hidden by a haze of gloom.
A gentle, if treacherous, slope of scree fell away before him. Levelling out to meet the cavern floor.
Kaius stopped transfixed, his attention drawn away from the space's immense size to the dense blanket of foliage that obscured his view of the ground proper. The stout tree's leaves glowed a dim green, though with less potency than the moss far above.
A sea of green, stretching out further than he could see. A forgotten forest, potentially hundreds of long-strides beneath the surface. A shadow of its cousin above, drowned in a strange fae light.
Straining his eyes in the half-light, Kaius drank in the sight. Was that..? It was. He could barely make out a dilapidated stone structure in a gap in the trees. Just close enough that it wasn't hidden in the gloom.
"I'd bet my sword that is where I will find some undead."
Kaius narrowed his eyes. In the Depths an underground forest meant hazardous wildlife. There was a small chance that he was off base and the wildlife would be undead, but the distinctly living nature of the swarm of spiderlings suggested otherwise. With how long he was going to be trapped down here, that meant he had a food source.
The undead themselves were probably the true hazard of this biome. They would be the grindstone he needed to push his skills just that little bit further. Delving was a dangerous profession. You either took every opportunity you could to eke out another iota of growth, or you died. He might have started a few years early, but he refused to fall into the second category.
He dashed down the slope, anticipation urging him forward faster than was wise.
After leaving the tunnel, Kaius descended into the strange glowing forest that he had found so deep beneath the surface. He crept across a dense carpet of lichens, the fungus squelching underfoot as he pushed yet another dense bush out of the way. It glowed with soft illumination to match the canopy of the trees above, spores shimmering almost imperceptibly as they were kicked up with every step. The flat light draped the underbrush, the lack of shadows playing hell with his depth perception.
He moved from tree to tree, making sure to hide behind their bulk as much as physically possible. As he moved his gaze roved over his surroundings, Kaius made use of his Tracking skill to survey the surrounding area.
A scratched root here, disturbed undergrowth there, even the odd far-off grunt revealed the presence of beasts living amongst the trees.
Kaius was determined to make it to the ruined structure he had seen. He couldn't risk attracting the attention of whatever denizens lived in the grove without having a defensible location to fight from.
He was confident in his skills. Just last week he had managed to clear a nest of boggarts. Without his father stepping in. High-level depths-born were something else entirely. He'd seen a delver once, muttering into his cup at the Stout Oak about a run gone bad. How they pursued intruders with dogged single-mindedness, free of fear.
The undead would hopefully be a different story. At lower levels, they could be among the most dangerous. Wights that inflicted fatal contagion with but a touch. Incorporeal spirits immune to all wounds, yet still able to tear out your throat. Higher up, where he was, they were little more than empowered corpses, hamstrung by the slowing touch of the grave.
With a little care and dexterity, he should be safe from their clumsy strength.
He should be getting close to the church he had spied from above. Though it had only looked like a half-hour walk, the terrain had slowed him. He was eager to see what else he could find, the opening in the trees had been far too big for the single building he had seen poking over the canopy.
The forest opened up, revealing a battered church that stood proud in a sea of gravestones. A low stone wall guarding the perimeter.
While it might have once been grandiose, age had not been kind to it. Shattered tiles covered the roof, barely protecting it from the elements. Thin stone openings dotted its cracked walls. Glass long since shattered, only the rotten remnants of shutters remained to sway in the strange breeze that flowed through the cavern.
Buildings were common enough in the Depths. Apparently, as you got deeper it was possible to find entire ruined fortresses, even cities. Rich in artefacts, forgotten language, and lost culture, it was almost impossible to believe that they were all creations of the dungeon.
Did the Depths create it all whole cloth, the creation of some dreaming intelligence? Or was it simply watching, creating twisted inversions of the world above? Perhaps in some long-forgotten time this church had stood in some rich glade of the Greenseed Dukedoms, only to find itself reflected in the endless Depths long after it had turned to dust?
Kaius moved on quickly from his musings, His eyes moving to the expansive graveyard that circled the church. There was no order to the graves. Flat planes of stone rising abruptly from the earth in a haphazard manner. So different from the orderly rows that lay on the outskirts of frontier villages.
Wait. Was that? It was.
A figure shambled out from behind a headstone, plodding its way through the graves. It paused. Waiting. It turned in place, seemingly scanning the field in front of it. It found nothing, moving off in what seemed to be a random direction.
Kaius narrowed his eyes, scanning the graveyard. More jumped out to him, though to his relief they were few in number.
Five in total and gaunt of frame, the figures shambled around in meaningless circles as they stumbled over hidden debris. They were scattered across the graveyard, each moving as if they were completely unaware of their compatriots. Their patrol was lilting, seemingly without any true vigilance. Like old, half-remembered, orders - a bodily habit followed blindly.
Despite the distance, Kaius could still make out the presence of mouldering leather cuirasses and rusted iron helms, as well as a motley collection of pitted weapons held loosely in unresponsive fists. One stood out above the rest, draped in chainmail and a solid helm, holding a massive club in both hands. That one would be a tough nut to crack.
The way they were spread out amongst the graves, and their seeming total lack of cooperation, could work in his favour. He liked his chances much better if he could force them to face him one at a time. Being undead, they lacked the regenerative vigour of Health. Even if they kept coming until he destroyed the core of their reanimating magics - usually the head- he could whittle them down with crippling blows.
As long as he could stop them from swarming him, that is.
Kaius bent down, rooting around for a stone. "If it worked once.."
He found one, working it loose.
"This should do nicely."
He needed to get closer.
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"Now.. where do I want to do this."
He scanned the low wall surrounding the churchyard. There. A bit to his left.
A crumbled opening, littered with loose cobble. Narrow enough that he could use it as a choke point. The undead would fare worse than him on the uneven footing. Every stumble would be something that Sense Weakness could capitalise on. If he could get to the wall without being spotted, that is.
He just hoped the undead wouldn't have the sense of mind to haul themselves over the chest-high stone and flank him.
It was still his best bet.
Each step was careful as he stepped over loose earth and stray branches with ease, his passage near silent compared to the soft rustle of leaves shifting in the breeze. Always careful to keep a bush or a tree between himself and his targets. Their disjointed patrol always seemed to leave one watching in his direction. He wasn't going to risk discovery before he was ready. No matter how oblivious they seemed.
He stopped behind his final bit of cover. A scraggly little bush that just barely covered the majority of his person.
Peeking out over the top, his eyes focused on the movements of the undead. Each shaky step they made snapped in a stiff legged mockery of a march. Though the way they ignored each other as they strutted around the graves left much to be desired in the way of discipline. Kaius just hoped their lack of cooperation remained when he engaged them.
No matter which way they wandered, there always seemed to be one positioned just right that would see him making a break for the fence line.
Muffling a curse, Kaius suppressed his urge to run into the fray anyway.
"You're in the Depths, you fool. Being cocksure is how you end up dead."
Taking a deep breath, he noticed his forearm had started to burn due to his too-tight grip on the stone he had found. Forcing himself to loosen his grip, he settled onto his haunches and began to wait.
"Now!"
The soft earth beneath his foot gave way slightly as system-enhanced strength and coordination moved him from a low crouch to a dead run in a fraction of a second.
He kept himself hunched. Trying to minimise his profile.
He ran as fast as he could to the obscuring safety of the wall. He shifted his tongue, mouth bone dry as he kept his gaze locked on the undead. It had taken what felt like hours for the entire group to coincidentally face away from him. The time dragging as shimmering half-light and drifting shadows tried to drag his attention from his quarry.
He was halfway there.
One of the undead, the tough-looking one carrying a half-splintered club, stopped dead. Its back facing him. The soft noise of the glade around him seemed to quieten, his gaze sharpening. The world seemed to narrow to the dense pulse of blood running through his veins, and the soft jolt of his feet impacting the ground with every frantic step.
He was so close.
It was the furthest one away. If it noticed him it would pull all of them in at once.
The club wielder snapped to attention and continued stumbling forward. Still facing away from him.
Throwing himself into a slide, soft earth muffled the movement. The long shadows of the wall reached out to him. Pulling him into their embrace. Sneak doing its work.
Air rushed out between his tense teeth. Kaius forced himself to relax the aching tension in his jaw.
He came to a rest in the shadow of the wall, the crumbling gap he intended to take advantage of only a few metres to his left.
Shuffling back towards the wall, Kaius held his sword ready. Straining his ears for any hint of approaching movement.
Any indication he had been spotted.
He got his feet under him, bracing his rear foot against the wall so he could bolt and reposition at the slightest sign he had been discovered.
But… nothing.
With a soft sigh of relief, he set down his sword, before unbuckling his pack and resting it gently down against the hard stone barrier.
Picking up his sword with his off-hand he snatched the rock with his dominant. It would let him start the confrontation on his own terms. He rose. Eyes barely peeking over the chest-high wall. Taking in the undead.
The closest one commanded his attention, his first target. Just close enough to be in range of his throwing arm.
Gaunt and withered, it looked like a two-week-old corpse had been left out on a smoking rack. Decrepit, but dry. No leaking sludge or flesh-melting sores. No decay. Mouldering boiled leather clad its figure, while it clenched a pitted shortsword between almost skeletal fingers.
Sense Weakness nudged him. Made his vision drift higher
There, next to a shrivelled ear, was a spot where something had ravaged the creature deep before whatever animating magic had stalled off its effects. The bone of its temple was exposed, sunbleached and almost splintering.
Kaius's eyes narrowed. Locked on that point. In a single fluid motion, Kaius rose to his feet, drawing his arm back before hurling his fist-sized rock with practised accuracy.
Breath caught in his throat. Kaius watched the stone hurtle through the air as he palmed his longsword back to his dominant hand.
The stone connected.
Splintered bone caved in. A crack rang out across the graves. The stone embedded deep in its watery grey matter.
Its body crumpled.
**Ding! level 12 Wretched Militiaman slain**
**Ding! Sense Weakness has reached level 16!**
Sense Weakness:
Level 16
Rare
Hearts, lungs, brains, arteries, eyes, mana cores, light, water, acid, or poison. Everything has a weakness. Everything.
Increases awareness of exploitable vulnerabilities in foes.
Each level slightly increases efficacy. Esoteric and magical vulnerabilities, and foes, are more resistant to this insight.
The rhythmic shuffle of the undead stopped. The remaining four, spread out across the graves, turned towards the sound. As one they locked their gazes on him. Blackened orbs burning a hole in his own.
His stomach dropped.
Kaius had to fight to keep his grip suitably relaxed for swordplay. Steeling himself he took a few confident side steps. Holding his place in the opening of the wall, ready to make his stand.
As soon as he moved, whatever spell held the undead enthralled broke. With a jerky lilting gait, they set off towards him. Ready and willing to rend the flesh from his bones
Kaius positioned himself with the gap in the wall to his front. The first one through the breach was draped in disintegrating mail, holding a hatchet high overhead.
His eyes narrowed. Breathing kept even more through rote practice than true confidence. The undead lurched forwards. Stumbling as its lacking coordination failed to keep it steady on the uneven stones that littered the gap in the wall. Its jaw hung open. Almost like it was wailing, though he heard no sound.
Behind it, Kaius could see its compatriots closing in on his position. Quickly.
Fast steps closed the distance between them. The undead brought its hatchet down in a heavy chop toward Kaius's head.
Snapping into a hanging parry, Kaius caught the blow.
His blade met the hatchet edge to edge. Binding the weapon even as his arms shuddered under the undead's infernal power. He knew he would lose a contest of strength. He didn't even try.
A flick of his wrist moved the hatchet off-centre. His blade was a lever, the momentum of his foe used against them. Twisting to free his sword. A slight lunge and he had run the undead through its throat.
A certain death.
Or so he thought.
The reality of what he was facing hit him with a punch.
Pain exploded through his chest. Hot iron flooded his mouth as he stumbled backwards out of range. Ribs grated with the movement. Cracked.
They were quickly enveloped with an itching fire as he steadied his footing, his Health beginning to slowly drain as it soothed bruised flesh and splintered bone.
"Idiot! Mistakes like that are how you end up dead!" His father's voice seemed to echo in his mind
The other undead were quickly approaching the gap in the wall. If Kaius wanted any chance of maintaining the favourable choke point he had to put pressure on the one that had hit him. He brought his sword into a low guard. A flexible position to defend from.
He ignored the sharp discomfort in his chest.
The undead came into range, swinginging its hatchet. Kaius backstepped. Allowing the momentum of his foe's swing to pull it off balance.
He stepped forwards with a lunge, sword poised to lance the undead through its skull. It pivoted its hips. Eyes burning with glee as it returned its hatchet in a spiteful reverse strike.
Kaius's face blanched. He could abort his strike. Attempt to dodge the incoming blow. However, the only way he could do that would be to throw himself to the side. Leaving him unbalanced and the initiative firmly out of his hands. No time. He had to commit.
He braced his core, twisting slightly to minimise his profile.
The blunt edge of the hatchet slammed into his obliques, just missing his lowest rib. Air whistled past his clenched teeth. Winding him.
His sword punched through the undead's nose. Enchanted steel sliding through bone with ease.
**Ding! level 11 Wretched Militiaman slain**
Stepping out of the lunge, Kaius forced himself to ignore the radiating ache of his side. It was quickly joined by the crawling dull itch of his regeneration. He forced himself to take a deep breath, his diaphragm spasming.
The rest of the undead had arrived.
He brought his longsword up. Hilt pulled in tight to his armpit, floating point trained on the head of the leading militiaman that advanced on him. This one armed with a derelict straight sword and buckler. Right behind it, a companion encased in a pitted breastplate and wielding a spear.
The final one trailed behind them. Still making its way across the graves.
The one with the straight sword entered first, its reinforced buckler held out front to ward off blows. The one with the spear fell in behind it. Hovering and ready to attack from behind its vanguard.
Kaius grit his teeth.
"I've got this" He reassured himself.
He stabbed forwards. The leading undead reacted instantly with a speed that contrasted its withered body. Its buckler knocked his sword away from its head, following through with a running stab towards his chest.
Sense Weakness twinged. Muscle memory and Warforged enhanced skill capitalised on the burst of intuition.
Kaius took a half step back, the dirty point of the militiaman's straight sword coming within a hair's breadth of his tunic. He pivoted his hands. Borrowing the force of the bucklers parry to twirl his sword overhead.
He was too far back on his rear foot to cave in the undead's brain pan, but…
The point of his sword ripped through the undead's ratty leather armour. Cutting clean through its leading bicep. Treacle-like blood welled up from the wound, spilling slowly free. Reanimating magics or no, the creature was still primarily of flesh and blood. It needed muscles to move.
Its arm fell weakly to its side, sword held in a limp wristed grip.
Immune to shock and pain, it did little to stop the undead. Stepping forwards it twisted with its hips, throwing its whole weight into a wild haymaker
Neither did its spear-wielding companion give him a moment to breathe. Even as Kaius stepped back again to avoid the vanguard's reckless attack, the rear undead thrust forward. Pressuring him with its spear.
Fear shot through him. He shifted his head to the side to avoid the blow. A fire split his cheek, blood spilling free to wet his neck. The pitted blade had exposed his gums to the tepid air of the underground glade.
He sucked in a breath. Air stung his open cheek, mouth filling with blood. He didn't have a moment to think. Health would deal with it. He had a fight to finish.
Swallowed blood coated his throat.
The leading undead was still off-kilter from its full body swing. Kaius attempted to stab forward to finish off the foe. Its companion gave no quarter, a flurry of thrusts preventing him from finishing off its ally. Forcing him to focus on parrying.
They danced like this for some time. Kaius narrowly dodging clumsy half-disabled swings from the leading undead as its spear-wielding companion locked down his advance. Every wasted second, another that the final undead with the club drew closer. Each party was in a deadlock. If it joined the battle the tenuous balance would be broken, and not in his favour.
He had to do something, and fast.
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Worse, he was not fuelled by indefatigable magics. His muscles burned, his chest bellowing with great gulping breaths. Each one grating at the two almost healed chest wounds, every aggravation slowing down the healing process.
Still, he was getting his measure of the militiamen. Furious, strong, and relentless they might be, their movements had an almost rote quality to them. Repetitive. Exploitable. He had yet to see any one of the undead do more than cycle between a few clumsy chops and stabs.
With every stab and wild swing, Sense Weakness and his own combat knowledge shed light on more and more vulnerabilities.
The leading undead threw its whole body into a swing once more. Its limp arm and the awkward weight of its sword pulled it off balance on the uneven terrain. Another opening. One he knew would be defended by yet another stab from the rearguard undead.
Kaius's focus contracted. Blade spinning to parry the spear thrust that he had seen coming. Borrowing force from the collision he pivoted his sword into a downward slash, taking the off-balance undead clean through the neck. Decapitated, its body fell limp.
**Ding! level 14 Wretched Militiaman slain**
Without pause his sword whipped back up, parrying yet another probing strike.
And another.
He advanced now, putting the pressure on the undead spear wielder.
It retreated, attempting to gain sufficient distance to bring its weapon to bear. A stab, then another step. Then a stab. Repeat. If he moved to attack, the spear came up. Warding its face.
He twitched. Jerking his sword forward in a false stab.
Its spear came up. The moment was here.
Kaius slashed low. Blade met desiccated flesh, shearing through its knee. The undead pitched over. He carried his cut through to whirl into an overhead strike.
His blade buried itself in the undead's brain pan.
**Ding! level 12 Wretched Militiaman slain**
**Ding! Sense Weakness has reached level 17!**
Triumph washed over him, his mouth splitting into a feral grin that twinged the slowly shortening cut through his cheek. His eyes stayed trained on the sole remaining undead, tonguing the rent. Feeling the air as his flesh writhed as it reknit itself closed.
Wielding a great club in both hands, it was garbed in a long shirt of surprisingly well preserved chain, while a dented and dirty steel helm sat on its head.
"This one might be a tougher nut to crack."
Kaius took advantage of the momentary break in battle to survey his resources.
Resources:
Health - 94/200 (2/min)
Stamina - 0/190 (2/min)
Mana - 120/120 (2/min)
Kaius winced as he took in his drained stamina. With his frantic pace through the dungeon, he would have entered battle without it topped off. The resource drained far faster in mortal combat compared to casual exertion, something he had had to learn the hard way in his first spars with his father.
He would have to rely on his bodily fitness from this point out, something luckily supported by both stats and skill.
"Hopefully I get a level of Physical Conditioning out of this."
Kaius squared his shoulders and advanced on the approaching undead. Sword point was held low in a guard of false openings. Hoping to bait a parryable swing.
The final Militiaman reached the breach. It whipped its great-club towards him in an overhand blow. Kaius's sword flashed up, binding the dense wood of the club, and pulling it away in a sweeping parry. He disengaged with a twist to follow through with a lunge. The point of his sword lancing towards the undead's face.
Its head turned at the last minute.
Sparks flew as his blade ground its way across the undead's steel helm, missing its open face.
Already having reset its stance the undead returned with another wild swing. Kaius stepped back, the club whistling past his chest with a draft that cooled the sweat beading on his skin.
He stepped back again, stance shifting so that his sword was held diagonally behind him. More false openings. The undead stepped forwards.
Another swing.
His breath heaved, a deep burn settling into his lungs.
Another step back. Another swing.
He struck from low to high. Enhanced muscles straining as he sought to regain the flow of battle. The point of his sword skittered against the chain that covered his foe, drawing a grunt of frustration from him.
He brought his sword back up, held over one shoulder. For the first time a great cry left his lips as he brought his sword down over his head in a furious cut.
The undead brought its club up, catching his blade as its edge bit deeply into the wood.
Muscle memory took over. He twisted his wrists slightly as he pushed forward, breaking the bind. His sword slid past the militiaman's guard, impaling it in the throat.
His point caught on the chain covering the creature's neck.
"Fucking! Mail!" He laboured through clenched teeth.
Soundlessly the undead lashed out again. Kaius hissed in surprise..
He whipped his sword to block the blow, just barely managing to bind it as the reverb of the strike nearly lost him his grip on his blade.
The undead hammered on his guard. Empowered strength and leverage working to its advantage. Kaius's arms quivered, a deep ache shooting up his arms as his bones creaked from the strain.
Without his stats he would already be dead. Even a fifth stronger and more durable than baseline, he was barely holding on.
Panic began to claw at him, his breath coming in shallow gasps.
The undead drew back, only to smash into his blade again. Kaius shook in his stance, knees nearly caving under the force of the blow.
His eyes rolled in his sockets, closer to an animal's than a man's.
He needed to do something. Now.
The club rose again, and Kaius broke. Stepping back the undead struck the ground with a small explosion of dirt, before whipping its weapon towards Kaius once more.
He just barely managed to parry it.
His thoughts turned to Hastur. To his father. A memory flashed through his mind.
He sat at the edge of a clearing, hot blood spewing down his face and staining his naked chest red. His practice blade lying in the dirt somewhere behind him. Hastur stood over him with a hand outstretched, its knuckles bloodied. He held his own blade in his dominant hand. Dark hair with soft curls failed to cover his fathers kind green eyes, smile lines standing out on the prolonged youth of his face.
With a lurch he was pulled to his feet.
"Remember son. We are not just swordsmen."
Kaius panted, squaring his shoulders.
The undead, soundless as always, brought its club down in another heavy blow. With a sharp cry Kaius brought his blade to meet it. Binding it once more.
The impact shook him to his bones.
Before his foe could leverage its strength Kaius pivoted his blade, turning his block into a parry. The undead, suddenly faced with a lack of resistance, swung its club away. Utilising the momentum of the exchange Kaius spun. His leg flicked out into a scything kick.
The heel of his boot impacted the undead's helmet with a clang.
It stumbled, suddenly off balance.
Kaius planted his feet. Pulling his sword in tight to his chest he shifted his weight onto his back foot. He lashed out with his leading leg into a push kick that unbalanced the militiaman..
The undead fell, helmet clanging loudly on a stray flagstone.
Lunging forwards, breath and spittle flew out from between his painfully clenched teeth. His gloved hand slid up the blade of his sword, grabbing in a firm half sword stance.
Kaius dove onto the decrepit body of his foe. It grabbed its club with both hands, pushing the weapon up to meet him.. The bar of reinforced wood took him in the ribs. Pain flared through his sternum. A sharp crack emanating his just barely healed ribs. Still weak from the punch he had taken earlier. Kaius coughed, watching a fine spray of red coat the undead's wretched face.
He didn't falter.
Kaius tossed his sword to the side. Too unwieldy in quarters this close. He ripped his hunting knife free of his belt. Aligning its point with the eye of the undead. Even now, trapped by leverage and the full weight on his body, it tried to snap at him. Rabid in its desire to end him.
The point of his knife came down, brackish sludge erupting from its ruined eye. He felt the slight resistance of its socket.
A cry of rage. A shift of his body weight. It was done.
The undead fell blessedly limp.
**Ding! level 18 Wretched Militia Captain slain**
Kaius rolled off the captain's body, bonelessly falling on his back as his chest heaved. Knife left standing proud in the undead's socket. He winced as each breath caused the edges of his twice cracked ribs to grate against each other.
**Ding! Physical Conditioning has reached level 14!**
**Ding! Warforged has reached level 18!**
Kaius couldn't help it. He laughed, pain or no. There was something so singular about staring death in the face, succeeding, and being rewarded for it. It was the sweetest ambrosia, and the most decadent nectar.
"You were right, father. As always." He smiled as we watched the softly glowing moss throw shifting shadows on the cavern ceiling. "I'll be out as soon as I can, and then I'm coming for you."