Pete Flies Solo
After the troll king’s very undignified demise, Rel and Kaelis decided to head back to Oakreach. Apparently, it was so they could devise the next stage of Kaelis’s training regime. More concerning, however, was the fact that as he left, Rel announced that he had a ‘plan’ he wanted to put into action.
I brushed the thought aside.
I could worry about whatever the fuck that meant later.
An excited grin parted my lips. It was exactly the sort of smile you’d see on the face of a child who’d just been told they could have chocolate for dinner.
As much as I’d enjoyed watching Kaelis decorate the roof of the cave with the troll king’s nuts, I was very excited to be returning to my one true calling in life: mindlessly grinding until the numbers stopped going up.
The inventory pouch hung from my belt, stocked with plenty of food and water. Rel had also been very insistent that I loot any valuable items I came across. Apparently, just because I looked like a peasant didn’t mean I had to be as poor as one.
Fair point.
We’d probably been a little lax when it came to looting the Floor bosses we’d killed. And when I say ‘a little lax’, I mean we’d been fucking useless. On Earth, I’d never been interested in things. I was more of a live-in-the-moment kind of guy. Still, considering there was a leaderboard category dedicated to ‘acquired wealth’, I figured I’d better make at least a bit of an effort.
I considered my current stat points.
Current strength: 37
Current durability: 28
Current agility: 3
Current intelligence: 2
A small corner of my brain had the audacity to suggest that training intelligence might be worthwhile.
Bad brain. No.
Magic was Rel’s game. My philosophy was much simpler: if you can hit things hard enough, you don’t need magic.
Agility it was then.
Hear me out. What’s the point of having godly strength if you have the grace and coordination of a fish on land? I figured that if I invested some time into training agility, I’d be able to make much more effective use of my overwhelming power.
Floor Four was the obvious choice to begin my training. Bad-tempered roots for starters, walking trees for the main course, and the weird tree person and his minions for dessert.
That sounded like a pretty ideal three-course meal to me.
There was only one issue…
To reach Floor Four, I’d have to pass through Floor Three.
And Floor Three meant one thing.
Fucking zombies.
I let out a deep breath and shook my head. It had to be done. After this, I’d better not hear anyone say that I’m not committed to training.
* * *
I stepped out of the tunnel into Floor Three.
I was greeted immediately by the thick fog that blanketed the ground and the eerie state of perpetual gloom that seemed to hang over the place.
My destination stood around half a mile away – the mausoleum that served as home to the undead knight guy. What was his name again…?
I tapped my chin thoughtfully. I was fairly certain that his name started with a T… Traydor? Trander? Trevor?
I shrugged.
I had more important things to worry about. Namely, how the fuck could I reach the mausoleum without coming into contact with a single zombie?
Thankfully, I was able to utilise my towering intelligence of two to come up with a genius solution.
I’d jump.
I stared at the mausoleum. Half a mile away…
C’mon, Pete. You can do this.
I took a deep breath and broke into a sprint. I crossed the first fifty metres in the space of a heartbeat, then pushed off the ground with every ounce of strength I had.
The earth beneath my feet exploded.
You have gained 1 strength.
Current strength: 38
And then I was soaring through the sky, buffeted by the force of the onrushing wind, the skin of my cheeks flapping furiously in protest.
I let out a great whoop of excitement as I revelled in the sensation. It almost felt like I was flying!
I glanced down.
Oh shit.
The mausoleum was directly beneath me.
And I was still going.
Eventually, gravity managed to wrest back control, and I began my descent. Well, I say descent, but it would probably be more accurately described as a plummet.
A very enthusiastic plummet.
I landed with the force of a missile, the entire world around me erupting into a confusing mass of noise and dirt and debris.
You have gained 1 durability.
Current durability: 29
Ouch.
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Who’d have guessed that falling from an absurd height while travelling hundreds of miles an hour would be painful?
I rose unsteadily to my feet and looked down at myself. The fall hadn’t done any real damage – at least not to my actual body. My clothes, however, were a little worse for wear. And when I say little, I mean they were now dirt-encrusted rags.
I said a small prayer to the lords of fashion for the self-repair and self-clean functions. I could already see my clothing slowly knitting itself back together. I’d have to pop back to the quartermasters at some point and buy the guy a drink.
A very big one.
I considered the two stat gains. The strength one I felt was entirely appropriate and well deserved. After all, I’d essentially utilised every point of my strength in a very productive way. The durability gain… well, that was not quite as dignified.
Still, two stat gains in five minutes?
Damn, I was good.
When I regaled Kaelis and Rel with the tale of my adventure… perhaps I’d make a few minor adjustments.
I tried to look in the direction of the mausoleum to assess the extent of my fuck-up, but the air was still thick with dust from the impact. Impatient, I clapped my hands together in front of me, generating a thunderous shockwave that cleared the air instantly.
The mausoleum was almost a mile away.
Shit.
I considered my return journey. My initial goal had been half a mile, but I’d ended up travelling closer to a mile and a half when I’d applied all of my strength. If my calculations were correct - which they probably weren’t - that meant I’d only need to use about two-thirds of my strength to reach the mausoleum from where I was.
I tried again.
This time, my aim was perfect.
Too perfect.
I was heading directly for the mausoleum, rather than the ground beside it.
My face met the stone of the roof.
My face won.
I crashed into the mausoleum like a human wrecking ball and once again found myself lying in a small crater on the ground.
I shifted uncomfortably, feeling something hard and bony beneath me.
Bony?
I rose to my feet, turning - almost reluctantly - to look at the spot I’d occupied only moments before.
Trevor?
The undead knight had been reduced to a pile of shattered bone and twisted metal.
I cleared my throat and glanced around the room guiltily.
“I’m sorry about this, buddy,” I said, kneeling beside him so I could loot what was left of his corpse.
I opened the inventory screen and saw two items. The first was a piece-of-shit sword that I had to resist the urge to launch into the stratosphere. The second was a scroll, which - based on past experience - I knew would be Cast Spell: Summon Undead Minion(s).
I moved both items into my pouch, then pulled up the information for each.
Bone Reaver
Killing a living being drains a portion of their soul essence, empowering the sword.
Equipping the sword grants the following bonuses:
+ 1 strength
+ 10% damage against the living
Trash.
I looked at the scroll next.
Cast Spell: Summon Undead Minion(s)
Allows the caster to summon skeletal knights. The number and potency of the knights is determined by the caster’s intelligence level.
I wondered what they’d sell for, but quickly put the thought to the back of my mind. I had more important things to focus on.
* * *
With a sigh of relief, I stepped into Floor Four.
I didn’t bother wasting time with sightseeing, heading straight to the part of the forest where Rel and I had first awoken the roots. I eyed the nearby trees, deciding which would be my first victim. In the end, I chose a particularly girthy specimen that stood a little taller than its peers.
“Well, big buddy,” I said softly, patting the bark. “I apologise for what I’m about to do, but if it’s any consolation, it’s for a very good cause.”
With that, I unleashed a reality-bending karate chop, the trunk disintegrating in an explosion of bark and splintered wood.
And then the ground began to tremble…
Here we fucking go.
Dozens of furious roots tore free of the ground, lashing through the air like living whips. They seemed to move wildly and without purpose at first, but then - as if sensing my presence - they came to an abrupt stop. As one, they slowly turned to face me, the subdued movement holding far more menace than the wild thrashing.
“Trees suck!” I shouted.
I had no idea if they could understand me, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to provide a little extra motivation. I was not half-assing my training, after all.
Please note that I do not actually think trees suck. I very much appreciate all the oxygen and what not.
They shot forward, the air whistling with the speed of their movement.
Rather than throwing myself out of the way, I tried to sidestep the first root, but I was too slow and clumsy. It glanced off my shoulder as it passed.
Fuck.
C’mon, Pete.
I had no time to think before I was submerged in a swarm of enraged roots. I grunted in frustration as they bounced harmlessly off my body, then leapt backward to create a little room. I landed around twenty metres away, and it took the roots a few moments to orient themselves toward my new location.
They darted towards me, and I moved forward to meet them, managing to twist my body awkwardly aside to avoid the first.
You have gained 1 agility.
Current agility: 4
I had no time to celebrate, the next root slamming into the side of my face. As the mass of roots rained down on me, I did my best to duck and dodge wherever possible. I growled at my poor control over my body and my utter lack of coordination.
Rather than letting myself become frustrated, I channelled it into motivation.
I wasn’t agile or graceful enough.
Yet.
I leapt away, resetting the fight once more. This time, I made the first move, blurring toward them. The roots lashed out furiously, and I managed to sidestep the first, the air slicing past my face. I ducked desperately beneath the second, almost successfully, as it glanced off the top of my head.
You have gained 1 agility.
Current agility: 5
And then I was overwhelmed.
* * *
This cycle continued for hours.
With each point I gained in agility, the connection between my mind and my body seemed to deepen. My movement became more instinctual and fluid, the roots becoming easier and easier to anticipate and avoid.
Over time, the magic empowering the roots weakened and faltered. They slowed to the point where there was nothing left for me to gain.
As the roots sagged to the ground and twitched pathetically, I bowed to them.
“Thank you,” I said. “I feel like we’ve formed a real bond today. Moving forward, I really hope you’ll be rooting for me.”
I was very offended when they didn’t laugh.
Wood you believe it?
Okay. I’m sorry.
Unfortunately, as I’d learned several months earlier when I first set out on my quest to grow stronger, the quick stat gains dried up fast. I’d managed to raise my agility to eight, but that final point had taken a full two hours of intense training.
I was a little surprised when my thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice.
“You dare to defile my domain?”
“Huh,” I said, spinning on the spot. “Wait - it’s not your turn yet. What happened to the massive fucking trees with arms and legs?”
The creature glared at me, its emerald eyes pulsing with barely restrained fury.
“What happened to them, you insufferable cretin,” it spat, “is that all the magic suffusing the soil in this part of the forest has been sucked dry.”
“Oh, damn,” I said, “That doesn’t sound good. How’d it happen?”
“How did it happen?” it snapped, incredulous. “How did it happen?”
It was so angry its body began to vibrate. I half expected steam to start coming from between the roots and branches that made up its body.
“I’ll tell you how it happened!” it roared, the nearby trees trembling at its fury. “The world’s greatest moron has spent the last five hours…”
The creature trailed off as it struggled to think of a word to describe my actions.
“Dancing? Flailing? Prancing?” it continued. “Which meant the roots had to keep pulling on the magic to remain animated!”
“That’s outrageous!” I said, looking around as if I might spot the person responsible. “If I were you, I wouldn’t stand for that!”
The creature raised its arms. The sound of wood creaking and splitting filled the air as its hands sharpened into wicked edges.
“I’m talking about you!” it roared. “You’re the moron!”
I grinned wickedly.
“Oh, I know,” I said, giving an infuriating shrug. “I just wanted to see if you’d spontaneously combust if I made you angry enough.”
Apparently, I’d driven the creature beyond the point of coherent speech, the sound it made as it launched itself at me was an impressive combination of curse, screech, and shout.
Its arm flashed toward me, and I stepped back to avoid the first blow, its blade missing my cheek by a hair’s width. It followed up with its other hand, and I staggered back, scrambling to avoid it.
The angry bastard was fast.
Perfect.
The fact that I’d avoided its first two attacks only seemed to infuriate it further. When it closed in again, it unleashed dozens of strikes a second. It moved so quickly that even with my newly improved agility, I was lucky to dodge one blow in five.
It became something of a demented dance. One partner wanted to improve their agility, while the other wanted nothing more than to violently murder them.
All in all, it was a match made in heaven.
The dance continued for some time…
You have gained 1 agility.
Current agility: 9
I was starting to understand why no other Trialist had managed to complete Floor Four. If it weren’t for my durability, Treeward Scissor Hands would’ve turned me into minced meat in five seconds flat.
My absurd tankiness also gave me another huge advantage: very few Trialists could train with the intensity - and complete disregard for safety - that I could.
The creature disengaged, somehow panting despite the fact I was fairly certain it had no lungs. It still glared at me, but the anger was now undercut by another emotion.
Despair.
“What are you?” it said, its voice growing higher-pitched as its sanity began to fray.
“Me?” I replied, pausing to consider its words.
I shrugged.
“I’m just a guy who enjoys getting stronger.”
[LitRPG] [Cultivation] [Crafting] [Smart MC]
Synopsis (Click to Expand)
To transcend the heavens, one must first forge the ladder.
He is a Cultivator who values volume over speed.
He is a Chronicler who will not stop at the sky.