ZachSkye
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Knives & Levels - Chapter 69
🕑 Added 2025-02-19 21:02:05 +0000 UTCJulia euthanized about twenty more stone men over the next four hours. There was no other word for it. After Colt stripped them of their mobility and capacity to do much else save for blinking, she had to end their lives.
The work hadn’t been simple. With the map given to them by Harry, there were about five blocks to cover that the monsters had been spreading out in, but with diligent work and careful routing, he wrung out enough Earth Elementals to see what he was looking for.
———
You have leveled up!
You have 6 Stat points to spend. You have gained 1 point of Dexterity and 1 point of Soul.
Thread Weaver (Basic) has gained a level!
Thread Weaver (Basic) has gained a level!
Olympic Physique (Basic) has gained a level!
———
Another level. Exactly what he aimed to accomplish, as well as boosting his Thread Weaver skill—one which he was eager to see reach the next level, especially since after he defeated Denny, Nike was going to hand him a third Edict. Then there was Olympic Physique… Conquering all the elementals had been a victory. Enough of one, it seemed, for the system to justify another level.
He’d tried since gaining Movement to pick up on another one of those fundamental forces, and it was far more difficult to connect with. Almost as if they were afraid of him, fear perhaps of the Edicts he’d already saddled with. Or it might be that the Soul was like a tree—as it grew, it finally had room to put out more branches.
No matter the analogy, picking up a third Edict was difficult. And it tracked, with two being the maximum he’d seen anyone else running around with.
Julia wiped the sweat from her brow, huffing over a pile of rubble; after she’d blasted it with her high-power water jets, they essentially broke down into grey sand. Colt crouched beside her, running his hand through her work’s dense, wet results. It slopped to the ground as it fell, not sounding like sand should. God only knew what material these things were made of. Harder than any stone had the right to be.
“Good job,” he said, flicking his hand to try to clear it of the remaining moisture and bits of stuck wet sand.
“Was all this necessary?”
“You leveled up, too,” Colt said as he assigned his stat points. All of them went to Soul. If at the one-hundred point threshold, he felt like he had a fighting chance with the Lesser version of Movement… Then, perhaps at the two-hundred range, he’d start feeling like he could wrestle that beast again.
At the very least, it would make him even more versatile and dangerous. The key to fighting Denny was to have enough weapon power, especially going up against the minotaur, so if he wanted to do that, he needed to make his weapons stronger…
Well, the ones he could control.
Colt tucked the kitchen knife away carefully, not for the first time having a headache as he tried to think of how to replace it.
“Yeah, three times. But I don’t know. How much are these levels going to impact our fight anyway? He knows you’re coming for him, right?” Julia said, stretching out her back as she looked around.
“Well, you guys attacking on the outside might have been a big hint. Also… Nick is there.” Colt stopped, still feeling a bit of the ache where the light arrow had hit. However, the pain of the betrayal left behind was far more present than an ache. “We do know that Denny will continue to gain power. So to at least have a fighting chance, we must continue doing so too.”
“Sure, man.”
“Let’s just get going,” Colt said, gesturing for her to continue. After about five hours of training, it was time to finish the rest of the mission for the day.
Talk to the people holed up in a waffle joint; at his lead, they slipped through the streets of Nashville once more, following the map Harry had given them. Despite it being a quick mock-up, the man truly had a talent for it; the bigger landmarks, such as ‘wrecked tree’ or ‘super-market overrun by bushes,’ were the perfect guide to travel through the streets.
The houses were more spaced apart here, too, giving the forest more room to grow and consume the rest of the city; as Colt listened while he moved, he heard birds chirping in the trees.
No big footsteps or monsters.
Slowly, yet surely, they closed in on their destination.
The front of the restaurant had a sign with an enthusiastic brown bear in an apron flipping a pancake on it, with a little blue painted sign below saying, “You need some waffles for the winter.” Its name was Grizzly Breakfast. Colt slowed as it came into sight within the tree line, his hand resting on the rough bark as he hid.
Julia slid behind him, keeping as quiet as she could. Though she wasn’t good at stealth, they had a fair amount of distance. She’d been trying to improve over their trip.
It was there that they found their targets.
Three men, wearing police suits, sat outside near the brown bear, smoking cigarettes.
Colt looked at Julia and raised an eyebrow, “You wanna be the one to walk up and introduce us?” he asked.
“No thanks.” She rebuffed and sighed. “Level forties. Same as the other guys.”
“Living out here on their means they run into monsters more often. It makes sense they’re packing on levels. Though… I wonder how they deal with the dungeons. Maybe they have scouts?” Colt did an Inspect of these people too. Though with what Harry said, he felt fine with a more cordial approach.
“Beats me. Well, up and at’em, tiger. Go recruit us some new allies.”
Colt smiled as she stood up, striding right for the waffle house. This would be the first of many new faces he’d have to meet over the next week. And, if he was lucky, these people would be key players in freeing New Nashville. He’d do his absolute best.
###
Nick sat still and straight in the wooden chair; it was uncomfortable. The grain was designed to be just a little too abrasive, and the seat was a little too narrow. The back support rested only a bit below his shoulders—come to think of it, the thing might be meant for someone smaller than him. Not that the chair belonged in this office. Denny brought it specially for their meeting.
The room outside of the chair wasn’t much better: Denny’s office. The place, to Nick, always felt like a cage. Being trapped inside with a powerful and mighty beast. It’d been strange spending time in here without that lingering threat hanging like a guillotine blade above his neck, but that changed when the man of the hour finally showed up thirty minutes late.
Denny sat across from him, his hands steepled; behind him was that Wind Mage who always hung nearby. The two were inseparable, though for his secondhand man or muscle—or whatever—the guy never spoke.
And Nick knew he’d tried to get a chat out of him for the last half-hour while they waited for Denny.
“You’re sure that was Colt?”
“He made a deal with people for the cloak, so yea, I’m sure. If’n you didn’t think that the guards fighting off the rest of that group and the fact they went after the healer they rolled up with wasn’t much more of a clue.”
Denny picked up the glass whiskey bottle, turned it over in his hand, and inspected the last bit of amber liquid within. Nick could picture it now, could feel the taste of that sweet, smokey oat-barrel flavor; he’d stolen a sip or two while trying to chat with the Wind Mage.
Without warning, Denny tossed the bottle right past Nick’s head—shattering on the wall behind him with a wicked crack.
He winced, but the man wasn’t done. Denny got up and slammed his hands on the table. “I asked you a question. You walked up to my city, tail tucked between your legs whining—and later that night, your old friends went and attacked me and mine—So when I ask you if you’re sure of something, you damn well better answer the question I asked instead of giving me lip.”
Nick retreated further in his chair; he felt small. Beneath the fuming might that was Denny—what and who was he? A small, incredibly small man.
Powerless.
Denny sneered at him as he didn’t answer, raising a hand, a threat.
“Y-yes,” Nick said, his voice broken and weak.
Just like he’d been back in that dungeon after Nate had taken what belonged to him. And again now, keeping his head down from the one man whose city he’d been cowering in for the last couple of months. And it wasn’t any different now.
Denny sat back down, a wide smile on his face. “See, weren’t that hard, was it?”
When Nick didn’t respond, he raised his hand again.
“N-no,” Nick said, and he hated himself as he did it. Weak, pathetic—that’s who he was. Why should it be any different now, it was the same back then.
“Alright. Now we have the facts of the matter. I’ve got four high-level assailants hell-bent on getting into this city and taking my healer. A healer who refuses to bend the knee—which would solve the problem in case they get in again; and the knowledge that these people will be eager to rial up the good people of New Nashville given half the chance.” Denny’s fingers tapped absentmindedly on the desk, and a wide smile appeared. “But we got a key.”
He raised a finger to Nick.
“Our little rat, here to spill secrets on his former allies; you want power, don’tcha boy? I see the jealousy in your eyes when you look at me. Heard you talk ‘fore too. What if I told ya I could make your dreams come true?”
At this, Nick stopped shaking, and the hate of himself faded away into the background, less a whining pitch and more of a dull drone in his head.
“Whatd’ya mean, a dungeon?”
“Pfft. No. We still have Dungeon Teams running them—no one is able to clear the D- yet, at least none. I wanna risk like I had your team. But they’ve given us points. Given us a bit more to work with.” Denny reached into his desk and pulled out a green vial.
Nick Inspected it.
———
Name: Essence Sap [Uncommon]
Description: Contributes to furthering the path of the one who imbibes it, strengthening them as they absorb the essence within. Reduced experience gains past level 50.
———
“Reckon this is good for a level or two for you; I can get more, too. Over time. If your advice proves useful, but I also got more than that.” He turned and looked at the Wind Mage, “Lift your shirt.”
Wait, it’s experience? Nick didn’t know what to think, a magic potion that made him stronger?
The man obeyed without a word—showing off golden tattoo on his chest, the thing gleamed in the light as if it were true gold etched into skin. Within it, Nick could feel a swelling of mana and Edicts that, too, reeked of a foreign power he didn’t understand. The man lowered his shirt, and Denny grinned wider.
“You see. There are a lot of benefits to working with a man like me. I pay loyalty well. You submit and accept my mark, and in return, it’ll grant you what you want most in your times of need: Power. It’s yours, Nick. Whatever you want, you can take it with the right amount. Aint that right? Now. All you gotta do to earn what you want most is simple. Tell me everything about those four. How they fight. What their Strengths are. How they think. See, thing is I know people, I was in human resources for years. You can’t trust’em, but if you can give’em what they want, they’ll give you what you want. I know whatcha want Nick. It’s yours."
Nick sat there, his thoughts and feelings churning. Resentment. Pain. They wrestled together in a painful march as they warred in his heart. A physical pain grew in his chest at the idea of spilling the secrets of the people he’d considered friends held a tangible weight in his heart, like a pile of steel there, dragging him down.
Denny was sitting there, waiting.
“…Colt has two Edicts…” Nick began.
The words hurt to say, but… Well, had power in the palm of his hands. He was tired of being small, never being enough—it didn’t matter who he had to be under as long as he could stop being the pathetic little shadow of a man he was. To get there, he’d spill whatever secrets he needed.
