For about two minutes, I stood in the middle of a field littered with corpses, contemplating which skills would be most useful in a battle with the monster.
"R-R-R-A-A-A!" came a distant roar, signaling that the fortress master had lost his target. A minute later, a couple of my companions appeared from around a bend in the wall.
"Oh! You left the boxes, well done! Lynch, collect them, but don't open them."
The big guy obediently got to work, while Vizily approached me:
"I can see by your face you got it."
"On the last one."
"Oh! That's a good sign!"
"Probably... I'm thinking about skills."
I scratched my almost smooth chin.
"Nothing to think about. Take strong arms level two. You'll need to level it up to five anyway."
"Maybe jumps? Or acceleration?"
The first was a passive skill that increased jumping ability. The latter was an active skill. It unlocked after strong legs and promised that I would be faster by ten percent for a minute. Actually, besides these, there was nothing else to take. According to the old man, the next useful skills for the human form would unlock after level ten.
"I've said my piece," Vizily grimaced and bent down for a box that Lynch hadn't picked up yet. "It's your build. Do what you want."
"I took strong arms," I reported. "Any tips for the battle?"
"Of course. His heart is dead, so I suggest cutting off his head."
"Awesome," I couldn't help myself. "Well, I'm off then... Where is he?"
"I think he's returned to the center of the fortress," the old man smirked, "but don't rush. Rest for now. I'll open the boxes, and we'll go together."
Still not receiving any new information, I sat down right on the legless corpse of the nearest undead. I felt very hungry again, but it wasn't wise to fill my stomach before a fight.
"Are you sure the guy needs this?" Lynch came out from behind me and addressed Vizily, sitting down on another corpse and pulling out a pie from his bosom. "After all, it's pretty tough for a fourth level."
"And for which level is it not tough?" I inquired.
"Well, in a fair one-on-one fight, from the fifteenth with normal skills and abilities."
Even so? I glanced at Vizily standing about five meters away, then turned back to the big guy.
"And what level are you?"
"Eighteenth."
"And him?" I nodded towards the old man.
"He'll tell you himself in due time," the old man interjected, "if, of course, you don't die now... Or later."
The anticipation of death is worse than death itself... In our world, this saying was applied at worst when going to the doctor. Now it took on new colors and became very relevant. And with each second of delay, I grew more nervous.
"Can we start already?"
"Just a minute..."
Vizily seemed to still be tinkering with the menu, but soon his gaze focused. He approached and handed me a sword.
Not Chopper. The sword was slightly longer than the one I had been wielding, but even at a glance, it looked considerably more reliable and sharper.
[Level 5 Mercenary's Sword. Strike power: +5%. Critical hit chance: +5%.]
"Your task is to whack him until a crit triggers. Preferably on the neck, but really wherever you can."
"And how do I dodge the throw of his axe⁈ And then how do I dodge it?"
"Calm down," the annoying old man waved it off. "He won't have any axe."
"Where will it go?" I clarified.
"It will be lying on the ground along with his hands. You didn't think I'd really throw you into battle against him without insurance, did you?"
"After meeting you, I try to think less..."
"That's right," the old man chuckled. "In short, I'll cut off his hands and cover you. If you manage – good job. If not, I'll get the experience. Everything clear?"
"Maybe cut off his legs too then?"
"I could cut off his head while I'm at it."
"Now, now, no need to exaggerate..." I frowned and poked the neighboring corpse with my sword.
"Alright, alright, I'll explain," Vizily raised his palms. "I won't touch the legs for two reasons. First – levels are levels, but you only get real experience in a life-threatening battle. Second – skills are best leveled up at moments of maximum tension. That is, the same one-handed sword combat. Initially, like other skills, it's at zero. You've already fought, so it's probably at level one now. So, if you use the sword to chop wood or hit a barn wall, you'll get to level two in half a year. But if you fight at the limit of your strength, it'll be much faster."
"You could have said that from the start." I stood up and looked at the fortress. "Shall we go?"
"No, it's inconvenient there," the old man shook his head. "Wait here, I'll bring him... And one more thing! Don't cross this line. He might change his mind and run away, and in the center, he has a respawn point."
He showed the boundary of the zone and quickly started climbing the hill.
"Easy pickings, right?" I turned to Lynch.
"Viz knows what he's doing," the big guy mumbled uncertainly and stuffed the remains of the pie into his mouth.
***
"R-R-R-A-A-A!!!" came from the depths of the fortress, and I raised my sword and prepared myself.
As it turned out, prematurely. Apparently, Vizily decided to perform the amputation on the spot, and for several more minutes there were howls and roars, but no one appeared.
Finally, the old man appeared in the breach of the wall, and a couple of seconds later, the maimed boss jumped out after him.
Well, without hands, he's not so scary... Although three meters of muscle, even dead, is still a lot.
"Get him!" Vizily shouted, running past me (Lynch had already stepped back and was covering me, standing ten meters behind).
No problem... I waited for the undead to rush past, then sprinted after him.
The neck, you say? If only I could jump that high... From this position, I can only hit the spine. And considering he's wearing chainmail – not a great idea. Well, then let's go with the classics...
I approached and swung at the knee joint.
The effect was comparable to running a not-very-sharp knife over a frozen chicken. There was a cut, but not quite what I wanted.
Although I'm lying, there was an effect. After my attack, the boss turned and hit me in the chest with the stump of his arm. Perhaps he didn't even mean to hit me, just wanted to see what had scratched him, but accidentally made contact, and I flew about three meters.
The hunter's jacket wasn't sixth level for nothing, and I managed to get up almost immediately and even jump away from the subsequent kick.
My chest hurt, and for the next minute, I circled around the undead, catching my breath and coming to my senses.
Okay. Let's consider it a tie: he hit, and I didn't die. Time to think of the next move.
It was hard to think as I had to constantly dodge lunges from the stumps (Vizily could have cut the arms shorter) and kicks. Of course, after each of the undead's actions, I slashed at the attacking limb. And I had something to be proud of: now he had six cuts. And that's not counting the one under the knee!
Well, jokes aside, the only consoling thing was that on average, every twentieth hit would inflict a wound stronger than usual. But how much stronger, and what good is a deep cut on the arm? I need to get to the neck. Or the groin... Although this fellow probably doesn't have anything vital there.
"He gets a stat buff at night!" Vizily shouted.
Oh, don't bullshit! It's only lunchtime... Joker... But in general, he's right, of course. I need to come up with something urgently.
Overall, the opponent's reactions are somewhat predictable. He doesn't strike with his left leg and arm, and if you approach from this side, he lets you get close to then hit with a spin using his right limbs. So let's try this...
I darted to the right, approaching the undead. He decided to kick. Perfect! When the bare foot left the ground and started to swing, I jumped back and, gripping the sword with both hands, slashed upwards under the knee, giving the limb additional acceleration.
"You've dealt a critical hit" – that's the message I was waiting for. But no such luck.
Okay, it still turned out pretty well. The force of the blow was enough to lift the leg, the boss lost his balance and fell on his ass. I jumped behind him and started slashing at his neck.
"You've dealt a critical..." – blah blah! Again, only in my dreams...
Another strike! Another!
The undead jumped to his feet and swung his arm. If his hands hadn't been cut off, my glorious path in this world would have already ended, but as it was, the stump flew three centimeters from my face, and I even managed to slash at it in pursuit.
[You've dealt a critical hit!]
Well, damn! Spot on!
I cut through the skin and, it seems, the bone almost halfway. What did this give me? Nothing special, except that the blade got stuck and the sword was yanked out of my hands. Luckily, it didn't stay stuck in the bone and fall into the enemy's possession, but popped out and flew into the grass.
"R-R-R-A-A-A!!!" the undead rejoiced and lunged...
For my damn sword!
"Catch!" came a shout from Vizily, who had jumped up, and I saw a huge sword flying in my direction.
"Why are you silent? Did you catch it?" – that's exactly the joke that flashed through my mind in that fraction of a second when my body adjusted itself to grab the gift by the handle, not the blade.
I caught it! Though to avoid dropping it, I had to run a few more steps by inertia.
I turned and rushed towards the boss, trying to see what he was doing, bent over the grass, with my (all exes are jerks) sword.
It looks like he's trying to insert the handle into his stump and get something like an assassin's blade. Disgusting... And the most unpleasant thing: he succeeded!
The undead noticed my approach, turned around, and swung at me with his modified arm. Good thing I'm not the only clumsy loser here!
The sword turned out to be not very securely fastened and slipped out of the wound a bit earlier than it parried my blow. It flew ten centimeters from my chest and carried off somewhere into the field, and in the next second, the blade of my sword descended on the opponent's elbow.
Damn it! I cut through the skin, but not the bone, and with a jerk of his even shorter arm, the boss wrenched the second sword from me too. Damn... One consolation: he definitely won't be able to use this behemoth against me.
"I still have this!"
I pulled out the sword I used to cut off the heads of ordinary undead.
Did I imagine it, or did the opponent look at me with sympathy?
"You don't even have one like this," I spat on the grass. "Let's go!"
The excitement was growing inside me, and with each successful block and lunge (even if they didn't do significant damage), my confidence grew. The old man was right: only in real battles can you get the necessary experience and confidence.
"Catch!"
What? Again⁈
Dodging a kick à la "this is sparta", I glanced back. Lynch had retrieved the sword that had flown into the field and was now waiting for a moment to pass it to me.