Objectives complete: 2/3
That was fun.
He was still grinning as he got the notification.
Skill Learned!
Promethean Noose I (Active) [Rare]
Promethean Noose, a skill exclusive to the Prometheus Chains, summons the relentless fury of the Titan's curse. The chains burn with ethereal flame, ensnaring foes in a grip that tightens with their struggles. Scalds and strangles at once. Heat and force scale with level.
Lovely.
His first thought was, this sure would’ve been useful before the fight . His second was—no, he had it backwards. The timing was too convenient—he must’ve gotten it because of the fight. Apparently, skills could be earned.
...if he'd never thought to strangle something, would he never have learned that skill? Would it have popped up anyway eventually via level up? He frowned. He had so many little questions like these. A tutorial would have come in handy.
Then again it didn't seem the System’s style. It was more of a ‘drop you into deep waters and see if you can swim’ kind of teacher. The only principle it seemed to operate by was natural selection.
Level up!
Essence Level 33 -> 34
Stats
Vitality: 29.7
Regeneration: 15.1
Strength: 31.5
Dexterity: 18.0
Speed: 12.7
Health effect: Health fully restored
Nice. Well however the system worked, it worked, which was what mattered to him. The rest he didn't care so much about. He stuffed his free point into Strength.
Then he turned to the mouth of the cave, and jerked back. But it was only light--and lots of it. A whole region's worth of Boar essence rushed at him at once, soaking into him. He’d almost forgot, kill the boss and you get the minions too.
It wasn't enough for a level, though. He was only three-quarters of the way there. All the Boars on this plane, and not one level, huh. Damn. Really did get a lot tougher the higher you went.
He left the cave in a cheery mood, still basking in the warm afterglow of the fight.
As he walked up the valley, he found the survivors staring at him horrified. All except for Annie, who waved at him. He waved back.
"See,” Annie told her mother. “I told you!"
As Zane neared, he took a glance down and realized why everyone looked so off-put. His shirt was bloody. He was baffled why the blood was still there—why hadn't it dissolved into essence. Then he realized it was his own blood.
"I'm fine," he said. Still, they stared at him, none of them seemed to trust themselves to speak.
A hoarse voice from the back broke the silence. "Fuck you!"
It was Brad. Zane sensed most of his bind had dissolved—it still kept them immobilized, but only from the torso down. His mouth was free to yap. Apparently, three hours sitting here stewing had given him confidence.
"Just you wait," he growled. Then came closer. "Yeah you! Brick, I'm talking to you! Brick Walker! Yeah, you little shit, that's right. You listen here.”
Zane took a step, and he saw a flash of uncertainty in Brad's eyes. Still, he put up a brave face. "Untie me this instant!" He seemed like one of those Chihuahuas who barked extra loud to cover for their small stature. It was hard to fathom there was a time Zane had been scared of this sad creature. "I swear—"
Zane slapped him. Teeth went flying. A spurt of blood followed the teeth.
Then Brad collapsed, whimpering. It was like Zane had slapped all the fight out of him too. Zane found he far preferred conflict resolution in this world. So simple. Zane knelt, gave him a moment to let the force of the slap soak in. Then—
"Don't call me Brick," he said blandly.
Sniveling, Brad nodded.
He cast under the sole bind on Brad and his grunts, just to make sure they were shut up.
Then, hands clasped behind his back, he turned to address the group. Faces young and old stared up at him, a little weary, a little wary, a little hopeful.
"So," he said, “Everyone. I said I'm not interested in leading you. This is still true. But this region is now clear of monsters, so. Stay here, rest, do whatever you want. I’ll be back soon enough.”
"And what will you do?" someone said softly. It was Sophie. He blinked; he was surprised she was talking to him now, though she was looking down at her hands. She couldn't seem to meet his eyes.
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"Clear the area, I guess," he said, shrugging. "Then the dungeon should be over. If that box was telling the truth."
They all perked up at that. Surprisingly he felt a pang of sadness. He would miss this place when it was gone.
Then he remembered the message did say there were, what—
Dungeons Generated: 114,183
…
And this was only one of them. And on the grade F. Which implied an E, a D, a C… right?
Like that, he was eager again. New boss time. Then… who knew?
After two bosses, and all the new powers he'd learned, he figured he was pretty damn strong. Unless this next boss—keeper of the Groves—was on a different tier entirely, he doubted it'd be too much of a challenge. He was already thinking ahead, of the outside.
"Stay safe," said Sophie softly, turning away. "We're counting on you." He wasn't sure what her deal was.
"Yeah!" said Cale by her side. "We're rooting for you, man." He made to link his arm with Sophie's, but Sophie shook him off. He looked sheepish.
"Appreciate it," said Zane, to be polite. He didn't much care either way.
"Oh right—you're heading South, yeah?"
"Should be." That was where the Grove of Whispers was marked out on the map. The keeper's domain.
Cale hesitated. "You might just come across Randall."
"Who?"
"This team leader of another group. Former marine, I think he said? We were going to go together, but he had a falling out with Brad and, umm, we split off. They went south for the Grove, we came here."
How bad did Randall have to be for them to pick Brad over him?
"He's… not a nice dude," said Cale, wincing.
How bad did Randall have to be for Cale to badmouth him?
"…Noted," said Zane. "I'll be careful."
He gave them all a wave before he set off. They were still staring at him, each one of them. Somehow, he had a feeling they kept staring until he passed out of sight.
By then the sun was setting, shading the darkening plains rust-orange. The farther south he went, the less rugged the land got—but no grass replaced it, just bare dirt. A few trees stuck out of the ground, stubby ones, leafless as though in winter. They rose straighter and taller the farther he went.
By the time he got to the Grove boundary, night had fully fallen. The moon washed everything pale white.
Where the Emerald Forest was lush and thick and glowing, the Grove of Whispers was tall and skeletal. All there was were barren trees, the branches reaching uselessly, like arms of the damned clawing for heaven. In the moonlight, they seemed made of bone, not wood. The earth was hard and cracked, infected with patches of withered grass. As he made his way in, his footsteps echoed unnaturally, like the ground itself was hollow.
Leafless vines snaked across the ground, up the tree trunks; they seemed to move when he wasn't looking at them. Fingers of fog splayed out against the ground, grasping at the trees, wrapping his legs in a cold moist embrace. Ancient stones lay half-buried, far too eroded to make out the letters. And over it all came the wind, pouring between the branches, shrieking like a dying animal.
He got the feeling it was a mistake visiting this place at night.
It was a visibility thing. These things didn't scare him, but all that dark, all those hiding places unsettled him. He kept searching for a place to settle down to rest, but not an inch of this land seemed hospitable.
Not an inch of this land was alive. There weren't people. There weren't animals. Not even treasures or monsters popped up on his mini map. It was just… empty.
He remembered the last time he was struck by how empty a place seemed. He started checking for shadows where they shouldn't be. The annoying thing was it was night; of course, they were everywhere.
He'd hardly taken 100 steps in—barely a scouting mission—but he was very close to turning back. Trying this again when the sun was up. Then something popped up on the edge of his mini map—he crept closer, into a clearing.
Oh, never mind. It was only a cluster of X’s. A bare clearing with nothing around. So there's that Randall, I guess.
And if Randall had died here…
His eyes slowly swept the clearing. So this place wasn't as deserted as it seemed.
Yep. He'd stuck a toe in, and he was pulling out. It was the smart thing to do. He'd head back, make camp, get a good night's sleep. Then tackle this again tomorrow when the sun was up. Sighing, he turned and made for the edge.
He'd hardly taken five steps back when the notification hit him.
Lair lock
The Keeper and the Grove has locked its Boss lair
… What .
He whirled around. Where? Where was the lair wall?!—
Slowly, he turned. And blinked.
The border between the Highlands and the Grove of Whispers had sprung up a pale blue.
The wall ran wide—so wide he couldn't see where it ended. But he suddenly knew where. It was following the lines of his mini map.
A cold fist gripped his heart.
This entire region was its lair.
The moment he'd set foot in here…
He frowned at the trees. At the branches. How had it known? It had locked it as soon as he turned—it must have been watching him. But for the life of him, he could not figure out where.
He felt a little sweat on his palms. Now he was getting a little spooked. And if he was a little spoooked—
Sudden motion. Not in his vision—in his mini map. A red dot 20 paces out from him. Then another. And another and another and another—all around him, everywhere they came, it's a horrible life. He stumbled backwards into the clearing, not sure where to look. Branches swooned, but it wasn't the wind. They were moving on their own.
All around him, every single tree began to bend. A huge creaking, groaning ripped across the clearing.
All at once, the forest was coming alive .
… Shit .
The vines slithered out like snakes, massing along the paths, clogging the exits. The trees were moving. Impossibly, they were coming closer, their branches thrashing wilder as they did. He backed up farther into the clearing—he was painfully aware he was now standing over the X's—as they swamped in around him. They loomed over him; he swore their branches were reaching for him.
He looked at one.
Keeper of the Grove (Monster)
Essence Level 38
Another—
Keeper of the Grove (Monster)
Essence Level 38
The fuck? They were closing in far too fast; he turned on Sage Mind, and finally got answers.
Keeper of the Grove (Monster)
Essence Level 38
Skills:
Necroflora Mastery (Passive) [Uncommon]
Reanimates and possesses the corpses of deadened flora, forcing them to do the Keeper’s bidding.
Withering Grasp (Active) [Uncommon]
Saps the vitality of its enemies through touch or proximity, rejuvenating the Keeper in turn.
Umbral Echoes (Active) [Uncommon]
Manifests haunting illusions. Casts shadowy duplicates of itself or its surroundings, confusing enemies and obscuring its true location. These echoes are semi-tangible, capable of interacting with the environment, making it difficult to discern true from fake.
He was fighting a Necromancer.
In the middle of a graveyard.
Oh, boy.