I'm jolted back awake by a gauntleted punch to the gut. "Hey! Be gentler about it!" I say as I try to fall asleep yet again ignoring the dull pain radiating from my stomach.
Someone grabs my ear and pulls my entire body up by it. Next thing I know, I'm face to face with Gorbson. "I'll be as rough as I want, you impudent wretch!"
"Fine, fine. I'm awake. Now what do you want?" He looks like he wants to beat me up, but knows that it won't have any effect. On the other hand, Ms. Blabbermouth is curled into a shaking ball as far as she can get from Mr. Gorbson. She probably blabbered one too many times and had gotten her divine punishment from Hero Gorbson.
Hero Gorbson lets go of my ear. "First, I've been instructed to feed you. Then, you are to kill some monsters to raise that pitiful level of yours. If you try to run off, and please do, then I have been instructed to kill you. Now here's your food." He slams a gray chunk of squishy substance into my face. I quickly catch it and look it over. It's dusk, so it's hard to be sure, but it looks suspiciously like a brain.
"Is this a brain?" I ask, the ever inquisitive and intelligent individual that I am.
"Yes. Now eat it." Not one to disobey a direct order, I do as my Hero commands. It tastes surprisingly good, and I can feel energy immediately coursing through me, but the texture is the single worst thing that I have ever tried. Imagine eating a raw brain. That's what the texture was like, only a thousand times worse. I almost gagged, but it tasted so good and made me so energized that I forced myself to finish the whole thing.
"Alright. Let's get going." He says gruffly. As we walk out of the solid metal door that is normally locked with a full dozen different locks, he remembers something. "Oh! I almost forgot." He throws a chunk of brain at Ms. Blabbermouth, who's only response is to curl into a tighter ball. "You better hope that this wretch tries to run from me," he says to her. "Because if you're the only one in here then we have a date tonight." With that he laughs and slams the door. Now I'm faced with a conundrum: if I try to escape, I die. But if I don't, they'll have to cancel the date that she is literally shaking in excitement over… hmm… what to do.
In the end, I decide that their date will simply have to be canceled. I mean, I do owe Ms. Blabbermouth a favor and all, but my life seems like a bit too steep of a price for the information that she gave me. Maybe next time, little Ms. Blabbermouth!
We walk away from the carriages for some time as dusk turns to the inky blackness of night. And then we keep walking. And walking. And walking.
"Are we there yet?" I whine, as the light from the campsite shrinks down to little more than a pinprick in the distance.
He whirls around to face me, a vein bulging on his forehead, his face illuminated only by the torch he carries. "Are you f-ing kidding me?! Are you three?! What the hell is wrong with you?!"
"We've been walking for [hours] ! When are we going to get there?"
"We've been walking for literally 15 minutes! You do realize how easy it would be for me to kill you and say that you ran off, right!?"
"Okay, okay." I say placatingly. "But seriously, where are we going?"
"We just have to get far enough from the campsite and wait around. Here is probably good enough anyway," he says with a huff, turning away."Now we just wait for a monster to attack. The region is full of 'em, so it shouldn't take very long."
I take a seat on the ever-dusty ground and watch the fire consume his torch. Or at least I try to, for no matter how long I watch the torch never is consumed. I simply decide that it must be magic, and continue to watch the beautiful flames embrace the air. The longer I stare, the more frantic the flames seem to be, like the tortured souls of the damned dancing in agony. Well, I guess one should expect some side effects from a madness as high level as mine. Still, I don't [feel] insane. I'm probably fine.
I take my eyes off of the torch, and search the darkness for any of these mysterious monsters. Nothing here. Nothing there. How about there? Nothing. Ooo! Looks like my sight enhancement has gone up a few levels. I try listening hard as well, and my hearing enhancement begins to level up as well. You know these skills seem to be leveling pretty fast… well I'm not going to complain!
By the time that I notice something moving in the night, my skill levels have risen noticeably. Well, I'll have to think about that later; for now I have monsters to kill!
A large monstrous creature slowly draws into the circle of light established by the torch. Of course, my sight enhancement has risen so high that the difference between light and darkness is almost non-existent. I mean, the dark still clearly contrasts with the light, but I can see as far into the dark and with as much detail as I could during the day. But, deciding that I don't want Mr. Anger Issues to know of my rapid growth, I wait until it almost enters the light before saying "There's a monster here!"
No answer. I turn around to see that he, on a monster hunting expedition with a rebellious slave, has somehow fallen asleep. My word, I didn't realize that he was [this] incompetent. I briefly consider running away, but I figure I'll just die in the desert. So instead, I just grab the sword that he had brought for me and had not yet given me from his side and turn towards the slowly shambling beast. It stands about seven feet tall, though it would probably be closer to ten if it straightened out of its obscenely hunched posture. It has lumpy, tumorous skin that looks to be as thick as an elephant's. From its mouth protrude two tusks, each about a foot long and strangely reflective, almost like metal. They seem to be serrated and are not only pointy but sharp along the edge as well. Its beady eyes focus in on me, and it lets out a guttural roar. Gorbson doesn't even flinch, so I'm becoming increasingly convinced that he's awake and is hoping that I'll die. And that might be a reasonable hope, as this opponent seems to be a rather powerful foe. Still, it's no matter. I refuse to lose to something this hideous. And could you imagine losing on your first fight with a monster?! If I came back to life again, I'd be certain to instantly die of shame! So, with those thoughts, I ready myself for battle.
I hold my sword out towards the monster in my self-taught battle stance. I then imbue the sword with magic, as I had done instinctively before. I don't really really know how this magic functions, but its usage feels incredibly natural, not much more difficult than lifting a light weight. A green nimbus swirls around the sword, lighting the area with its brilliant emerald hue.
While green is usually the color associated with wind magic, what I'm doing now has nothing to do with controlling elements; instead, it's as if I'm drawing in little magic pieces from all around and condensing them on my blade. I still want to experiment with this a little, but the monster takes this opportunity to charge forward. [Not the sharpest tool in the shed, eh beasie?] I think mockingly. Seriously, who waits until their opponent has fully prepared themselves to charge in?
Head lowered, the charging beast must only take a few steps before it is over me. The tusks bear down, but it is a simple matter to bat them away with my sword. Logically speaking, there is no way that I should be able to shove aside a beast so much bulkier than I, and with such little effort; yet the magic seems to make up for that shortcoming, canceling out the beast's attack and knocking its head so far away that it almost falls over. Decades of practice in my previous life prevail, and my sword stabs deep into its exposed side. I leap back out of its range as it thrashes in its dying throes before collapsing to the ground, clearly dead. As I look at its corpse, I feel a sense of morbid satisfaction. While the short battle had been far from difficult, I had come out as the victor in my first truly mortal battle. I mean sure, my battle with Mr. Armor had my life riding on it, but I wasn't likely to be killed in battle and I didn't need to actually win, only having to make a good showing of myself.
[I wonder how difficult it is to level up? That monster didn't seem all that difficult, so I would expect to maybe be level 2, 3 at the highest?] I think, as I open up my stats.
Lvl. 7
Huh?! How did I go up so much? [Well, maybe it's not that much,] I reason. Perhaps this system is one where one has to reach deep into the hundreds to notice a significant boost in power.
"Huh. I was rather hoping that you'd die," says Gorbson, no longer pretending to be asleep.
"You know that's pretty mean. Sir King General Admiral Emperor Lord Boss Master Mr. Armor would be sad if I were to die."
"No one would miss the death of a loon such as you," he mutters under his breath. "Now, how much did you level up? We have to get you to at least level five to reach a respectable price."
"Oh. Just level 7."
His mouth slightly agape, he stares at me flabbergasted. "Level 7? Off of one Gnork? Normally, they would only get a newbie to level one… y'know, there's something up with you. Not only such high skills at level one, but also leveling up so easily… well, I guess it doesn't really matter that much. If anything, it's a positive, as we'll be able to sell you for more. Well, let's find some more monsters for you to kill. The higher your level, the greater your value, and no matter how fast you level up, you won't be able to beat me any time soon."
Man, he sure does like to ramble! This is great. I have no idea why, but it seems that my rate of leveling is much higher than average. Maybe this world is still trying to figure out how high my skills would have been if this system was in my previous world? Well, it's just a thought. There's no way that I'm going to complain about leveling up faster than average, whatever the reason! Now I can't say the same for how fast some of my skill levels are rising. One in particular… well, no matter! Well, if Gorbson wants me to kill more monsters and level up some more, then I'll be happy to oblige.
"Sure! I want to level up just as much as you want me to level up, so I have no complaints."
"Not like I would care even if you did have complaints," he grumbles. You just can't make this guy happy can you? Always grumbling when I go along with his ideas, yelling when I oppose his idiocy… well, no matter. I'm sure to be rid of him as soon as I'm sold.
The scent of the Gnork's blood soon draws in more creatures from the darkness of the pseudo-desert. The first to arrive is a company of small beasts, with gnarled green skin and devious red eyes glowing from within their skulls. When the one at the front opens his mouth to deliver its pathetic growl, small yellowed teeth, chipped to the point of being serrated, become visible. An overly long tongue dances intermittently between its lips, as if it is tasting the air.
"Demi-goblins," Gorbson spits out. "A crossbreed between goblins and even wilder monsters. Weaker than goblins, which haven't been seen on this side of the continent for millenia, demi-goblins are far more viscous and wild. And since they can breed with nearly any monster, their populations spread like a plague through the wild territories. Watch out for those tongues; they are more than capable of grabbing an opponent's arm or leg and tripping or disarming them. Now kill them."
He sure does like killing doesn't he? I am about to invite their leader over for tea, paid for by the slavers of course, when the one in the front leaps at me, mouth wide open. Very wide open; it seemed that this one could disjoint its lower jaw like a snake. Without much thought, I draw my sword and cleanly decapitate the creature. Its head flies on an altered trajectory and hits Gorbson, causing him to hiss in irritation. The body continues toward me, but I simply step to the side.
"Now look what you did; they got scared when you told me to attack them and so attacked me in self-defense," I whine as the remaining demi-goblins start attacking me.
I hear a snort from behind me, but I don't have time to berate Mr. Anger Issues; I'm currently fighting against six little friends, all on my own at that.
Friends one through three launch their snake-like tongues at my face; dealing with them as one ought a dog that insists upon licking, I cut off their tongues. The tongues fall to the ground where they writhe like strangled beasts, and their owners scream out in agony, their screams coming out as gurgles through their filthy blood. They have little time to mourn their dastardly tongues; while weaving between the attacks of friends four through six, I deliver a sharp jab to each of their unarmored stomachs. Avoiding six attacks while doing such would have once been a monstrous task, but my body seemed noticeably lighter, stronger, and more flexible than usual. [Is this the effect of the increase in level?] I think to myself while avoiding their attacks with ease, my prior lifetime's training merging with a boost in level to allow me to dispatch these friends with ease.
Friends one through three crumple to the ground, but I have no time to offer them my sympathy as they clutch their stomachs; after all, I must first bring friends four through six to the ground. Resolved to their collective demise, these beastly friends claw and scrape with their nails and bite and knash with their teeth, flailing tongues lashing out whenever their mouths open, all in hopes to bring me down.
I'm irritated with that Gorbson. If he hadn't frightened these poor friends, then I wouldn't be in this position. My little friends and I could be enjoying tea on the house back at camp; instead, their poor little bodies lie dismembered upon the ground, blood, guts, and limbs scattered around. Three had quickly become six, and with the merciless swing of my sword, I had been forced to put my little friends to sleep.
The little groans slowly cease as their vessels pass out of this world, leaving behind little but silence as Gorbson stares on slack jawed, seemingly in awe of this massacre. Level 7-> Level 12. A quick check of my stats confirms the death of my friends. Our friendship may have been short, but it ran far deeper than any other bonds that I had formed in this world. What senseless, pointless deaths, such innocent little beasties, persecuted only for their appearance. Although I wish I were sad, I don't really feel anything… must be that the deaths were simply too much for me to take.
Huh? Swordsmanship leveled up!? Never mind then, vicious little beasties! Your growth-fueling sacrifice will not be forgotten; every time I swing my sword I will remember our friendship!
A smile of joy spreads like a flower across my face as I accept their generous gift. Surely they knew that I would never be able to kill them unless they attacked. Therefore, they must have attacked just to alleviate my grief when I killed them; there is no reason to reject such a gift, so well thought out and generous!
Tears of joy and gratitude well up in my eyes, replacing my tears of sadness. Well, either that or some of this dust is in my eyes. Seriously, our short and friendly scuffle kicked up quite a bit of dust.
My previous anger at Lord Mr. Gorbson dries up; the beautiful little friends trusted him enough to include him in their plot to donate their levels to me, so therefore I must also trust him. I give him my biggest smile, a smile of trust and gratitude, but his face twists from reluctant awe to its usual confusion and annoyance.
"Thank you for helping my friends to deliver their precious gifts to me!" I say to him, in an attempt to clear up his seemingly endless confusion.
"What are you on?!" he screams at me in reply.
[Ah, Lord Sir Gorbson, always so predictable, trapped in a cycle of yelling, grumbling, and ceaseless confusion. What a poor fellow.]
"You know!" I say cheerily, to which he responds with a predictable grumble.
"Well, at least tell me what level you are now. If it's above ten, we're sure to fetch a premium for you."
Well, that's how [he] feels. [I] want to keep leveling my precious swordsmanship. Why is it so precious to me only now? Who cares! All I know is that I feel a very strong urge to level it as high as possible. So, with that in mind, I say "Oh shucks… looks like I'm only level nine. How unfortunate… I guess I'll just have to kill some more monsters then. It's really a shame, but it can't be helped."
"You know… level nine is probably good enough. We should head back now. It's well past midnight."
Who knew that Gorbson could be so unreasonable! Everyone knows that night is the time to be out and about. "Well, that's nice and all, but what would our mutual friend Emperor Armor say when he finds out that I could have been a higher level and you stopped me, hmm?"
Mr. Grumbles unleashes his signature move: grumble. He then mutters "You know I could kill you with a twitch of my finger and face no repercussions…"
I pretend not to hear him and set off further into the night.