Blake opened one eye from the shade of his napping tree, and put his hands behind his head.
"I'm thinking braised halibut for supper," he yawned. "What do you say, Chef?"
Hank grinned, and kept filleting his catch. Turned out Hank the Angler was also something of a cook. He even had a collection of tools in a big leather bag—spices, and various dry ingredients—as part of his 'civilian package'.
"I'm really a retired fisherman," he said happily, adding what looked like a packet of fat or grease to his pan over the fire. "I bought and ran a restaurant for the last decade or so when I settled up in Washington. Cooking was always my passion."
"So why didn't you pick a chef class?" Blake yawned and stretched lazily.
"Figured catching fish might be more useful at the end of the world. Anyway, I expect I can diversify."
Blake nodded and rose to a sit. His plan was proceeding smoothly. Doug the carpenter—with some minor guidance from Hank—had already figured out a design for the boat and started on the bottom. Er, the hull? Whatever. The players were taking turns chopping and cleaning trees like lumberjacks, and Hank and the others had focused on gathering enough sea life for a veritable feast, as well as some mushrooms, berries, and even some kind of dragon fruit.
When the day was hottest they all took turns resting under the beautiful palm trees. Blake yawned again, casting a sleepy eye at the lithe, athletic form of the girl sleeping next to him. Turned out Mona had been a college gymnast before her job in physical therapy. She was some kind of physical class now with a vicious looking spear, and she was one of Blake's main supporters. He caught Hank's eye, who caught him staring and gave him a raised brow and a knowing grin as he hummed and stirred his fish.
Blake watched a few white clouds drift in the warm, gentle breeze. They'd have their boat finished soon, then they'd make their way to the coast, and from there…well, who knew? But he expected there'd be more people and more opportunities. The new world wasn't so bad. Not so bad at all.
* * *
Mason forced himself to sit up and examine his injured chest. He peeled away the bloody strips of cloth, then stared in amazement at the skin underneath. All of the wounds were entirely gone. All that remained were scabs, red lines, and in one case, an actual scar, like he'd been healing for a month. The pain was gone, and though he was thirsty and hungry, he felt almost…fine.
He rose up with renewed purpose, deciding to continue with the gnolls. Now that he knew he could heal, and quickly at that, he didn't fear taking some damage. Since the gnolls seemed not to work in large groups, he figured he could just take them all apart one damn creature at a time, and soon began tracking them near the clearing. He got his first down with only his bow and a single broken arrow from Power Shot, which seemed to destroy the arrow every time. He took his second with two shots, and finished it with his knife. Number three got too close and forced him to rest again to heal a vicious slash across his shoulders. But it went smoother after that.
By mid afternoon, he was up to six,
Mason cursed as his Power Shot broke its fifth arrow on the skull of gnoll number seven. The creature staggered and stumbled like a drunk, and Mason reloaded and whistled a Crippling shot into its calf. Two more arrows, both poorly placed, then he drew his knife.
"Come on, you big bastard. Show me those fangs."
The creature roared and obliged, with a quick but sloppy charge. But Mason had learned from the last several kills.
He waited by a tree, and at the last moment dodged behind it, then slashed down at the creature's extended hand. He didn't quite sever it, but certainly rendered it useless. Then he stabbed his blade into its gut before leaping away, abusing the creature's crippled leg and poor reach as he slashed and withdrew. Three strikes. Four. And the creature dropped with a final, bloody gurgle.
[Kill awarded. Congratulations, you have earned enough experience to level your primary class to three!]
Mason closed his eyes, panting in the cooling night air as looked up at the bright, three quarters moon. He wanted to howl, to cry out that he, Mason Nimitz, was still alive, and victorious. Instead he watched his surroundings in silence, ensuring he was alone and unobserved. Finally satisfied, he crept away from the corpse, flattened against a new tree, and brought up his 'profile' with a thought. Nothing had really changed save for showing his Regeneration power.
[Level available. Please select your new power in the next sixty minutes, or you will gain a power at random.]
Hell yeah, he thought. Here we go. Though the deadline was new. It was pretty clear to Mason at this point that these 'powers' were the driving force of success in this new world. So far it seemed the only way to gain and improve them was to level, and the only way to level was to kill things. That suited Mason just fine.
He had a few new options this time. 'Trapmaking' seemed like an entirely new avenue to pursue, but he figured he could make his own traps eventually anyway. There was another shot which sounded little different than the ones he had, and the hard truth was he was going to run out of arrows sooner or later. His eyes strayed to a melee power called Predator's Strike, and he stared so long he thought he might burn a hole. Then he took it.
Mason had taken 'hunter' in the first place because he wanted to kill with as little risk as possible. But his bow and especially his arrows were crap, and now that he could literally regenerate, it was likely time to adapt. He needed to be able to kill up close. Efficiently. Quickly.
Decision made, he felt better. No doubt he'd be testing that power soon enough. But it was getting dark and Mason's mind and body needed rest. He cut off a few pieces of vine to use like rope, then climbed up a tree to sleep like the descendant of chimps he was.
But first, he made a few snares with the vine, in case anyone decided he was an easy target…
* * *
Blake's first night in the new world passed uneventfully. In fact, it was downright pleasant. It had gotten a little cool in the night, and Mona ended up closer and closer until she'd obviously felt a little embarrassed about it and whispered 'it's just for the heat'. Of course, she could have cuddled up to just about anyone, and she'd chosen him, but he let that little fact slide. Anyway, he was cold too. Though he would have happily spent a night next to Mona even if he wasn't.
The dawn rose red and beautiful and Blake grinned at the system message that filled his vision.
[Congratulations, you have survived your first night in New Earth! Experience earned. Congratulations, you have reached level two!]
"Hey," he nudged Mona. "You level for surviving the night, too?"
"What?" She rubbed at sleepy eyes and tried in vain to fix her tussled hair, then stilled. "Well look at that. Yes I did."
Blake nodded, then watched a veritable wall of ghostly text override the pleasant view the moment he'd wondered how to level.
[Player profile accessed. Level available. Please select a new power.]
Well. Well. Another power was a big deal, considering how useful they seemed. Blake had played plenty of video games in his day, and everything about this new AI world was screaming MRPG, or Multiplayer Role Playing Game. He checked out the list of possibilities.
As before, the list was practically endless. Support spells, offensive and defensive options, creation and pets, and everything in between. Blake scrolled without much information except the names, trying not to be overly frustrated. One power in particular, though, caught his eye:
Meditation. Increase mana recharge rate.
He'd already noticed mana recovery was a huge issue. Just a few uses of Mental Influence and it took damn near an hour to recover. He could only imagine what it would be like going forward, and figured anything to speed up the process would be worth its weight in gold. Plus, holy hell, meditation? What was this, Everquest? This 'New Earth' might be a more 'old school' version of the games Blake loved, where things just…took awhile.
He perused the details of some of the many other options, but in the end he felt he didn't have much choice. Maybe he'd get an automatic version later, but he couldn't know, and anyway they'd likely stack. He took meditation without further hesitation, then immediately sat down and focused on the power. His eyes closed almost on instinct as the system took over, so at least it worked. But he had full mana so it he'd have to test it later.
"Get anything good?" he asked Mona. She frowned.
"I can't decide. Offense or defense?"
Blake shrugged. Survivability or toughness was almost always the right choice in such games in the long run. But offense would probably matter more in the beginning to improve faster. Blake didn't want the responsibility for Mona's decision in any case and shook his head like he had no idea.
"Go with your gut," he said. "I took a mana re-charge power."
Mona nodded, frowning one more time before she seemed to decide. Then she stood up and stretched her lithe, long limbs before offering Blake her hand.
"Best get an early start. You never know when those 'bogloks' or whatever the hell will show up and ruin our paradise vacation."
"So," Blake grinned, "lying next to me is your idea of a paradise vacation?" Her smile faltered and Blake laughed. "Relax." He grabbed her hand before she could pull it away and sprung to his feet. "Up and at 'em," he groaned as he stretched his back. And because he couldn't help himself, he sent a little spike of friendly energy into Mona's mind with Mental Influence. He needed to use some mana anyway.
"Get up you lazy peons!" he smiled to himself at the reference. "We've got a damn boat to build."