As humans, we have the tendency to overestimate ourselves. For example — When reading stories about zombies, it's easy to immediately think, "Hah — I'd do a lot better than that dumbass!" and so on. That is a failure of the human mind, an inability to correctly simulate oneself into extreme situations.
Growing up — Carter had always believed himself able to get a leg up on anyone he could possibly need to, if push came to shove. He was clever and he was fast, and more than either of those things, he was confident; faith in skills that had never before failed him, perhaps because there had never been a chance for them to do so.
He had never been the friendliest, of course, and he knew that. Therefore, within the context of the small society of Bound that laid within the Morpheus Mines, he'd never been exactly popular with the other children. Not that he was shunned or anything — there wasn't really space for such things within a group already that oppressed — but they had their things and he had his, and that's the way it was.
He would be lying if he said he'd never thought himself slightly superior, however, to others — even as he, a lonely child, sought out the company of those, like Grandfather, who would surely only indulge him out of pity. An underlying notion of "I'll certainly outlive them all", as it were, for he was clever and they were dull and, more often than not, the only one with the confidence to flee from System-bearers was him.
— What a fool had he been, he belatedly noticed. A fool and a coward both.
This situation was certainly bad.
A single one of the Dreamers was more than able to kill him, should he let his guard down. It was like fighting Zombies with magical trump cards, and it didn't help that the only thing he has on his side was < Dash > — which was hardly offensive.
Even if the elevator down were to arrive right now, there was a good chance he wouldn't be able to make it. Maybe if his DEX had been higher, but not as things were; he could certainly out-maneuver the creatures, and outrunning was a given, but they'd proven more than smart enough to attack from the back.
Which left — Well, honestly, he wasn't sure what that left. Going all Rambo on them, maybe, to make sure his death was a little more dignified than his life had been. It would be a shame, to be sure, but…
No.
Bad thoughts, bad thoughts, away you go for good.
That would be kind of pathetic. He might not be strong enough to win, but he had to at least try to survive. Which meant — playing it smart.
So he waited, and they approached, led by the one with the martial fists that might have dislocated something if it had hit just little undee. He probably had some hairline fractures going on around his head anyway, not to mention the ridiculously painful broken ribs that still made him feel like crying.
Hah — what a wonderful, wonderful situation.
Clearly, Carter's modus operandi to deal with fear was to default to sarcasm. But I digress.
As things were, it was obvious that taking the offensive wouldn't do him any good. The little horde would tear him apart faster than he could scream "Oh, shit". So what to do? He had a dagger, two feet and a veritable pocket maze he was hard-pressed to get access to. What to do, what to do…
— A flare of yellow energy, just dim enough he could almost miss it. But he didn't.
DEX covered instincts, as he had been repeatedly coming to understand.
And the source: Karate Kid's zombified brother. He had taken a stance of concentration, knees bent and fist clenched behind him as energy was gathered — and the other dreamers were waiting for it.
He had underestimated their leftover intelligence, clearly. This wasn't just an aimless attack; it was a strategy. Though whether it was born out of strategic thinking or self-preservation instincts remained to be seen.
Another hit like the one he'd received — it might very well kill him. The previous one has already dealt him a good 30, and the System said he only had 40 left. He wasn't about to try and prove it wrong.
— Therefore,
The answer was simple.
The ground under the Dreamer's feet cracked with the pressure of its impulse, and it rocketed towards Carter with a raised glowing fist that would certainly rip his head off.
But all he had to do was not get hit.
Carter sidestepped. Instead of destroying his skull with unparalleled force, the first impacted with the concrete wall behind them and with the stone behind that, spreading debris and dust everywhere. The wind from the first was enough to cut a thin line into Carter's cheek.
[Carter: 39/150]
It was okay — for this time, the Dreamer had its fist stuck in the wall, which exposed it's ribs and underarm. And, as Carter had read once —
A hit under the arm was the fastest and easiest way to hit the heart, assuming you aimed for the right side.
Carter stabbed.
[Critical Hit!]
[Martial Dreamer: 70/200]
Well, shit.
He quickly ducked under a backhanded blow from said Dreamer, who ripped its fist out of the wall and immediately tried to hammer Carter's face with it, and then was forced to roll away when another Dreamer attempted to pounce at him. The creature impacted the ground with a dull thud — and Carter, still within range, made sure to slash it across the head before running off.
It hit the creature's eyes, but not much damage other than that had been done — it was brought to 80 from 100 max. Fun.
But — the Dreamers now approached from the front as a horde. The row to his right was empty.
Carter threw some canned food at them and then dashed into the shelf corridors, ignoring the screeching behind him. His feet skidded and slid a little as he brought his momentum to a sudden stop near the end, and he let out a low groan when the screen on the elevator still showed the same message.
God fuckinh damn it.
— However.
As the Dreamers once again charged at him full-front, it occurred to him that there was a place they couldn't catch him on. Before the Dreamers caught on, he rushed to the shelf on the opposite end of the room and jumped. It was tall — maybe 7 feet, 8 if he extrapolated, but the momentum was enough for his hands to latch onto the edges of the top of the shelf and the extra STR came in clutch when he pulled himself up.
He patted himself on the shoulder for a job well done — and then yelped as he was forced to dodge a flying can of tuna. Clearly, the Dreamer horde — all of which were already screeching in what he chose to interpret as anger — had caught on.
But he was probably safe for a little while.
See, here's the thing — Dreamers had no natural MP regeneration, and their reserves were greatly diminished. You might be convinced otherwise, by looking at the way they spammed abilities like no one's business, but the truth was that they lacked the cognitive sense to choose when to and when not to use them.
For example — Carter greatly suspected that the Martial Dreamer was either out of MP or very close. Whoever was throwing the telekinetic cans at his head was also being quite wasteful. And since Dreamers weren't at the peak of physical strength, all they could do was clutch at the shelf he stood on, which happened to be pressed against a wall.
No knocking this one down with him, assholes. So… safety.
Or, almost. He had to stay pressed to the wall to avoid the occasional attempt to swipe at his feet, and even if the shelf was pressed against the wall, the constant clutching at it was enough to make it shake. He couldn't stay there indefinitely — hell, it was doubtful that it would last more than a few minutes.
It was enough for two things — one of which was hope.
"Skills," he enounced clearly. Carter hadn't forgotten the Skill Point obtained.
[SKILLS:]
[ Dash: 5 MP/Second]
[???] (Q)
[ Leap ] (1)
[ Steel Swipe ] (1)
[ Encroach ] (1)
[???] (3)
[???] (3)
[You have (1) Skill Points remaining.]
[You have discovered new Skills! Skills can be discovered by experimenting with different weaponry and playstyles, so be creative!]
Ah… interesting.
— The shelf shook again. Right, no time to ponder. Shit, Carter wasn't really the type who did well under pressure. Ah… and no System Explanations. That's just wonderful. Ah…
Leap would be jumping, probably, right? And Steel Swipe was probably something to do with his Dagger. Encroach… shit, what did encroach mean?
— His (surprisingly useful) memory for useless details supplied said information promptly. Encroach, noun: intrude on (a person's territory or rights.) Something to do with sneaking, since the System had said he unlocked Skills by doing stuff.
So — the choice was between Encroach and Steel Swipe. It would be useful to have more information on what each did, but he didn't, so he'd have to make due. Preferably by yesterday.
The shelf shook again. Right. Fun.
— He clicked on < Steel Swipe > . Though he would have preferred to pick Encroach , it wouldn't save him in such a situation. Instead;
[SKILLS:]
[ Dash: 5 MP/Second]
[???] (Q)
[ Leap ] (1)
[ Steel Swipe: 10 MP]
[ Encroach ] (1)
[???] (3)
[???] (3)
[Skill Unlocked!]
[You have (0) Skill Points remaining.]
… 10 MP, huh?
This gave him — maybe some 4 uses before he was completely dry. It would have to be enough.
Time for step two of his plan.
Carter pressed his back against the wall tightly, put the edges of his heel on the half an inch that was between the shelf and the wall it was pressed against, and waited.
Again, a push from the clutching Dreamers — the Shelf moved slightly, hitting the wall and moving forward a tiny bit in recoil. That was when he placed his feet against the border, bent his knees as it moved back, and pushed with both legs.
— !
The shelf went down, crashing on top of the gathered dreamers with the loudest crash he'd ever heard, and he went down with it — falling on his butt on the very shelf he'd torn down. Clotted blood splattered with the fall, and he saw an arm flying away. Screeches of pain followed.
Then came the notices, just as he rolled to his feet.
[Improvised Attack!]
[Improvised Attack!]
[Dreamer 2: 0/100]
[Dreamer 11: 20/150]
[Martial Dreamer: 30/200]
[Dreamer 4: 50/100]
The list went on — with a total of 11 listings, which should be all of them. Out of those, four had been killed.
[Reaped!]
[Reaped!]
[Reaped!]
[Reaped!]
He still had no idea what that meant, and he'd start caring once he didn't feel like he was about to die. For now — He immediately turned his eyes towards the fallen Dreamers… and one in particular.
Whoever the Martial Artist had been in life, they'd clearly been gifted — because already he could see more of that familiar yellow light gathering.
Unfortunately for it,
"I don't think so" Carter muttered, lifting his dagger and stepping on the shelf. More screeches from those caught beneath it reached his ears — it felt absolutely brilliant. " Sorry. < Steel Swipe > ."
— A flash of silver light.
He slashed with the dagger, more as a test than anything, with an odd calm coursing through his veins — and the metal became a liquid.
The sound of steel splitting flesh was disgusting. And it was very, very loud — especially as a razor-sharp wave of liquid steel split three necks clean open.
[Critical Hit!] indeed.