Stratothrax
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Chapter 182
🕑 Added 2022-06-02 12:36:08 +0000 UTC◈ Chapter 182:
Rain sat cross legged in the middle of his cell, blood occasionally drip-dripping from his muzzle or rolling down his fur to add to the lake of blood surrounding him.
Despite his gory and intimidating state Rain was relatively tranquil, with his paws resting in his lap and his eyes closed, chest rising and falling in long slow steady breaths.
He had levelled up more than he had expected to after killing so many of the monsters here, an astounding amount for any leveler. But of course that hadn't meant he'd acquired a Class. He'd gotten all the way up to level twenty one with no Class to show for it, something which he knew was supposed to be rare as most levelers got their Class between level ten and twenty, occasionally lower.
Unlike a monster's evolution which was vanishingly rare a leveler acquiring a Class was almost universally consistent, and more than that, the Class you got could be guided, to a degree.
With enough effort and careful planning a person could improve their chances of getting a specific class, or at least a type of class. It was no guarantee as there were countless ways to influence what Class you ended up with and there were countless Classes. Anything from what you were, to who you were, to what you did, to what you felt, to what you knew, to what you worked on, to what your struggle was could affect the outcome. A talented blacksmith might be more likely to end up with the Warsmith Class, but a single event or trauma or change of heart could knock them into getting a different Class altogether.
On top of that new Classes were always being discovered, or forgotten, or rediscovered. There had been many sections of Florens' great library devoted to just listing out classes and theories on how to obtain them. Innumerable books and pages of just lists, not even getting into how to operate a specific Class.
And perhaps most importantly not all Classes were created equal. Some classes were below average, some were poor, some were just straight up bad.
Horus, the old man they had thrown money at when they had first left Lynthia's dungeon, the old man who was now living his best life in Florens, there had been a comment that he had made back when Rain first met him, one that had stuck with him. He had said he had a flawed Class, and he'd blamed it on the town. If Rain had to guess, Horus had been tricked, instructed to do something not knowing that he was being funnelled toward a particular Class, a bad Class. It was an incredibly cruel thing to do to someone as once a Class was gained there was no going back.
Then there was Bane, the Ranker of Lynthia, the one who had broken Rain's life and left it as nothing. From what he understood Bane had… a bad Class. A Class that had a level cap somewhere below what might have been what Bane was capable of achieving. Something as rare as a level cap was rarely known of any Class as they were usually in the upper levels and few levelers reached those heights to find out such things.
There were various schools of thought on the right way to get a Class, some said forcing the matter was a bad idea and statistically increased the chances of getting a bad Class. Others considered going after a specific good class was the only right move, as the risk was worth it.
Rain was inclined to believe the former; he had seen more than a few people in Lynthia's slums angry and unhappy with what they got after trying very hard to achieve a valuable Class.
But more importantly Rain wasn't greedy, he just wanted a normal, average, functional Class, that just worked. A previous lifetime getting scraps gave him zero ambition to push his luck and try for some rarity of a class.
He just wanted a Class, something he didn't have.
He had a feeling it would be coming soon though.
Maybe most fitting for his current self, it would be some kind of Hunter Class, or perhaps something to do with magic, a mirror to his predation. But even if it was the most simple of warrior Classes he would be beyond satisfied… as long as the damned thing worked properly in this monstrous body that is.
In the meantime…
He peered within himself, using his mind's eye to scan down the shifting chromatic leveler menu, colours shimmering like oil on water, a reflection of the many coloured moon. The name of his species was artefacted out as usual, and his Class was as yet nothing, but he could see his current total mana, which had risen significantly with his new level, hitting 33/33 mana. He still had no skill that seemed to use mana, no 'magic' but it was interesting that it had risen.
He turned to the important bit, his new Skills, mind's eye eagerly drinking in the sight of Seven new Skills. It was a lot, a gratifying amount of new Skills, a gluttony of Skills.
Admittedly they were only basic non-Class Skills, but still, his excitement was palpable and his tail wagged behind him, stirring the lake of blood and gore.
The first Skill read [Carve] and its description when he focused on it read [Impress your vision into a carvable material]
Okay, this was a Skill he was familiar with, more than a few in the slums had managed to make a tidy sum by selling wooden effigies and figures on street corners, especially of the religious kind.
A thought occurred to him, an idea that would dovetail nicely with his plans.
He raised a paw and a small cloud of dark fell from his fur, forming a pair of rats as it touched the ground. The two rats squeaked and looked back at him with star filled eyes before he willed them to go fetch a stone from outside his cage.
They scuttled off, darting between the bars until they came across a black stone, a piece of the ruin, about twice the size of a human fist. Together they lifted the thing in their paws, struggling immensely.
They made it about three steps before one rat tripped and face planted into the dirt, its body misting to nothing as it struck the ground. The second rat lost its balance as the rock fell and head butted the stone with a squeak of distress. This rat misted too.
Rain rolled his eyes.
As much as he quite liked the rats because they reminded him of his previous life, they weren't exactly predators. Fragile was an understatement.
He was about to summon a centipede from his fur when one returned to him at the perfect moment, then another, and another. Enormous ten foot long centipedes snaking from the ruins. There was a choked sound of surprise from the cage containing the goblin and harpy as they saw the three things arrive.
He had been dropping them as he explored the ruins, setting them to the task of obscuring his steps in the sands, obscuring things just as he had bent the bars back into place to hide how he had entered the cages. Not perfect, but enough to mask his passage in the gloom.
One of the enormous centipedes grabbed the dropped rock in passing, feet tap-tapping against the steel in a hissing beat as they entered his steel cage, handing the rock to him before curling up around him with its brethren and sinking back into his fur.
He held up the black stone. It looked like black stone, unremarkable.
He rolled it between his paw pads, squeezing and rubbing, applying pressure, black dust falling from his knuckles as he wore the stone away. Each time he caught flashes of the thing between his digits it was a little different. He finished and held it up, squinting at it.
A small crude model of Opal's head winking at him was held between his thumb and index. He rolled his digits a few more times and it appeared as a crude Lyra, sculpted as smiling with her eyes closed. Once more and he had a crude wolf head, his own head, unlike Lyra and Opal his expression was dour and grim. He frowned at it and then quickly squeezed the thing in his fist.
When he opened his paw again he held a perfect black sphere, polished smooth. The sphere was smaller than the original rock as each carving had been smaller than the last. He held it up and looked it over.
"What's that for?" came a voice.
He glanced to the side to see the fanged goblin in the other cage, she seemed to have been watching intently as he worked and had momentarily forgotten what he was. She flinched when he looked at her.
Rain didn't answer, instead he set the black polished sphere on the steel floor of his cage with a click of stone on steel.
The next Skill he had acquired was one that he was beyond pleased with, his tail accelerating as he examined it in his mind's eye.
[Trapping] [Intuit advanced trap making]
This was a skill that a woodsman might use, hunting game in the forest.
It was also so perfectly ideal for him. The truth was that despite being a hulking wolf monster that towered over everyone else and rippled with muscle he was still at heart a street rat. His appearance was a deception, a lie, when he fought he didn't fight like a mindless brute, no, he fought like a dirty street rat scrapping for his life.
Which meant he cheated as much and as flagrantly as possible and with absolutely zero shame whatsoever.
His fight with Erin being a recent example, tricking her into very nearly flying through a net of centipedes and turning her from a whole succubus into a few dozen diced cubes of succubus meat flying through the air.
She had been pretty upset with him for that.
This Skill was automatically his favourite because of this and his mind buzzed with ways to use it, imagination running wild.
The third Skill was almost as good, it was just…
[Camouflage] [Draw on material to Camouflage]
…he wasn't exactly sure what it did.
Curious, he triggered the Skill, and looked over his body, wondering just what would happen. Invisibility?
Nothing seemed to change, he was still sitting in a cage covered in blood.
Maybe it was only him who couldn't see it. He turned to the other cell.
"Do you see me?" he gravelled.
The goblin flinched and nervously licked her lip. "Y-Yes, it's pretty freaking hard not to!"
"Hrmm."
Maybe it was just a really weak kind of invisibility?
He was about to give up and when he noticed something as he lifted a paw. A dangling string of gore hung from his fur. Frowning he shook his paw but the string stayed even though it appeared like it should fall.
His brow rose as he grasped what the skill was doing. It was affixing the 'material', in this case gore, to his body, and since he was sitting in a puddle of blood he was now 'camouflaged'.
He made a distasteful expression, lifting his upper lip as he shuddered. Having muck glued to his body and impossible to clean off was not a pleasant concept to think about, in fact it sounded like some kind of nightmare. He supposed that it could be very useful while in a forest. Being covered from head to toe in leaves and twigs affixed to his fur just had to be better than just standing out like a sore thumb in broad daylight with his giant form and black fur. That had been a frequent problem when hunting animals on the way to Florens, stalking was literally non-existent as an option for him during daylight, as he was the most obvious thing in view.
He let the skill drop and the dangling string of gore fell from his fur, the Skill no longer magnetising it to him.
Useful, but ew.
Next was a Skill that he was only vaguely aware of.
[Disinfect] [Disinfect wounds]
Removing disease from cuts was what he thought it meant. Speciality potions. In the slums that meant liquor… sometimes. Most people didn't seem to grasp the concept or just didn't care. He himself hadn't been in a position to do what was something he only half understood.
He hesitantly raised a paw and held it over a nasty cut one of the monsters he had fought had given him. He was covered in filth so the cut was probably… infected.
He activated the Skill waiting for something to happen, but nothing did, or at least he couldn't visibly see it happening, maybe the cut tingled a bit?
…Would it even matter if it did work? Any disease insane enough to assault this body would find itself swiftly absorbed and devoured, same as any poison or venom.
Perhaps the Skill would be more useful if he could use it on Lyra or Opal.
The fifth Skill was something he doubted would ever synergise with, well, anything he could do currently.
He hesitated then lifted a paw. A dozen large catfish disgorged from his fur and flopped onto the ground, flopping around madly with gaping mouths and splashing blood across the cage.
"Wh-What is he doing?!" he heard the harpy whisper-hiss to the goblin.
"I don't know, I don't know anything about magic," the goblin whispered back, eyes round as she watched the mess of noisily flopping fish.
Honestly Rain wasn't sure either, this Skill [Fishing] wasn't exactly going to be useful, and he didn't even have a fishing rod or the like to test it.
Maybe if he found himself by a lake or something and fancied a snack it might see use.
He blew out air in a huff, a drop of blood flicking from the tip of his nose. He dispersed the flopping suffocating catfish into a cloud of dark that drifted back into his fur.
Basic Skills were just so… It was just a fact they would be much more useful if he was a regular human living a regular life in a regular town, not the dominating and physically overwhelming monster that he was.
The same problem of these Skills being human focused applied to the next Skill, a Skill that was particularly irritating, in fact he felt genuine anger as he looked at the Skill in his mind's eye, his paws curling into clenched fists as he unthinkingly let loose a snarl that rattled the cage and vibrated the air, the bridge of his nose wrinkling in absolute pure disgust.
[Herbivore] [Increased sustenance from plant matter]
"What the fuck!?" he snapped. This was outrageous. Was there a way to delete Skills? He wished there was, this Skill felt like it was actively mocking him. A herbivorous wolf? No. Just No.
"A-Are you talking to us?" came the fanged goblin's small uncertain voice.
He glared in her direction and she took a quick step back and swallowed.
They of course had no clue he was examining Skills, a monster didn't have Skills, he probably looked like he was losing his mind.
He exhaled slow and eased his tensed up body, uncurling his paws. Getting personally offended by his own Skill was maybe a little much. But he still avoided looking at the damned thing in his mind's eye as he moved onto the final and seventh Skill he had acquired.
[Home] [Home]
He could tell just by looking at the thing that this Skill was different from any other he had acquired so far. The ink it was written in glowed softly and it radiated a strange warm aura that puzzled him. The Skill was very obviously a rare Skill, possibly even an extremely rare Skill. Even if it was a basic Skill, something this rare would be something special.
He gnawed on his lip, trying to discern something from the inscrutable one word description, but it was like trying to draw blood from a stone, this Skill was completely opaque.
There was only one thing to do. He hesitated, and then activated the Skill. [Home]
At first it appeared nothing had happened, and he was about to dismiss it as a nothing skill, but then one of his triangular ears perked up as what sounded like a crackling fire could be heard.
He frowned and turned his head, trying to find where the sound was coming from, the sound of popping rustling twigs, a plume of sparks from the occasional shifting log. It sounded exactly like he was sitting before a fireplace.
In fact he could feel the heat of the fire against his body now, and the scent of woodsmoke and as he looked the light of a fire illuminated the dark, the edges of the directionless light shifting as the fire flickered, and then joining this warmth and warm light the sound of rain outside, raindrops pattering gently at the window pane in a soothing way.
"What… what is happening?" said a small unsure goblin voice.
Rain had a sudden and inexplicable urge to curl up with a book and a blanket and a lot of pillows, in fact the blood slick metal floor of the cage was feeling almost comfortable, soft even. He felt the last of the tension leave his body as a deep feeling of relaxation and comfort and absolute guaranteed safety rolled over him, a bone deep sigh escaping his lips.
He felt… at peace, more at peace than he had in a very long time. A memory lazily drifted to the front of his mind from his childhood, a time before everything went horribly wrong, sitting in the family living room as his mother sewed and his father told stories of heroes and adventures for them, smoking his pipe as his eyes crinkled with mirth at Rain's awed expression. He could spend any amount of time reliving this memory.
He almost curled up on the floor to have a nap as the minutes passed in such comfort, a wolf by the fire in the family home, safe and warm and happy. But then he caught himself. It wasn't the right time or place for this.
He blinked a few times and shook his head slightly, clearing his mind as he straightened up.
As he did so he caught sight of the other cage and he turned his head to it, brow rising in surprise at what he saw.
The harpy was sitting cross legged on the ground and the goblin girl was using her lap as a pillow. The harpy gently stroked the goblin with one of her wings, a look of purest kindness on her face, which was a very strange thing to see instead of a harpy's usual cruel sneer.
"What is this feeling…?" murmured the goblin girl, voice low and soft.
Rain's brow rose further as he noticed that both of them were softly crying, tears rolling down the harpy's cheeks, dripping from the goblin's nose.
And then the Skill ended.
The cold dark silence of the prison descended once more and the comfortable soft floor returned to unyielding and uncomfortable steel.
A moment passed, and then the goblin seemed to realise what she was doing. She jerked back from the harpy's lap, scrambling on all fours away from her then turning and hurriedly wiping at her eyes, the harpy too, her face disappearing in a cloud of wings, both very clearly avoiding each other's gaze.
Apparently the skill had hit them hard.
Which, strangely, Rain thought he really understood. What dungeon monster was going to have ever experienced anything like that feeling? If they were anything like Opal then they grew up in an unfeeling and hateful pit of backbiting and backstabbing and unrelenting spite and death. Even family were liable to push you over a cliff to gain an advantage, or push you into a big monster's jaws or leveler's blade while they escaped. There was no real love there, deep down another monster was just another tool to survive. If your family died you simply ate their bodies for the sustenance and moved on. That was the norm for countless unending generations doing anything to survive.
No one loved a dungeon monster, not even other dungeon monsters.
…Did this mean this Skill was extremely effective on dungeon monsters in particular…?
Just as he was considering asking the two what they had felt, his ears perked up with the sound of distant voices echoing through the ruins, voices that were rapidly getting closer. Without hesitation he snatched up the carved ball of stone and put it in his mouth.
They were getting near.
They sounded quite upset.
"Why are all the monsters gone! Why are they all gone!?"
