An Outcast in Another World 02 - Shared Insanity, page 7
A second giant bat landed on Rob’s head and bit him in the scalp. Power Slash’s hum mixed with the torrent of expletives spewing out of Rob’s mouth as he swung above and bisected the monster. Blood and organs spilled out of the creature and plopped on top of his head and Oh god, I think I’m going to be sick.
Nausea distracted him for an instant, which was enough time for the first bat to swoop in close. Shock distracted him for another instant as, instead of clawing or biting at him, the bat wrapped its grubby mitts around his sword and yanked it out of Rob’s hand.
“Buh-, whuh-” Rob sputtered. “I just got that! Give it back!”
It snickered at him. Well, more likely it was using echolocation to map out the surroundings, but Rob interpreted it as a snicker and he wasn’t going to let logic tell him otherwise.
“If that’s how you want to play...” Rob opened his palm, summoned the Broken Dwarven Shortsword out of his Bound Items – which was apparently the same as an Inventory except not really – and cast Rampage, blasting forward at the monster like a bullet fired out of a gun.
Monsters didn’t have emotions outside of basic feral instincts. Rob knew this. He also knew that he had a recurring habit of misattributing human characteristics to things that didn’t have them. With all of that said, he would’ve bet good money that the bat’s last thoughts as its snicker faded and its face froze were ‘I fucked up.’
Rob jammed the Broken Shortsword into its forehead, piercing straight through to the brain. Headsman made it easier, but even without the Skill’s damage bonus, the blow would have been fatal. Going from fighting colossal Infected anywhere from 5 to 20 Levels above him to smacking down random overgrown bats in the forest felt like a pro baseball player joining a Little League game.
Passive Skill Learned!
Name: Dagger Proficiency
Prerequisite: Dexterity 10, defeat at least one worthwhile opponent while using a dagger or a knife.
Description: Become more proficient with sharp-edged, bladed weapons with the shape and weight of a dagger or knife.
Reached Level 24!
5 Stat Points Gained!
Berserker Level Increased! 16 → 17
There was no increase for Crystal Bearer despite the Class being at Level 1, and he had no idea when that would change. Concentrating on the required EXP for his personal Levels and Class Levels was like looking at a bucket filling up with water, but Crystal Bearer’s bucket looked like it was either bone dry or constantly overflowing every time he checked on it. Which gave him concerns about the stability of the makeshift Crystal framework that had been unwillingly grafted onto his soul, but it wasn’t like worrying would change anything. Crystal Bearer had already saved his life and given him fun new tools to work with, so for now he would just enjoy the ride and hope that his brain didn’t implode out of nowhere.
Rob put his newly-gained stat points into Magic before mana exhaustion crept up on him. While it may not affect him as badly as the others, he needed to be running on full gas for the rest of the day. Rob was still pulling his Broken Shortsword out of the bat when a third one dropped down and flew in from the side, mouth wide open and on a collision course for his left arm. It was moving too quickly for him to dodge in time.
In the instant before the bat reached him, Rob considered his options. Not A Scratch was up, and his recent spike in Vitality had upgraded it enough that it could be used every six hours. Alternatively, he could tank the hit and Lifesurge the wound away afterwards – it was also on a six hour cooldown.
He chose neither. The bat sunk its fangs in deep, shredding muscle and flesh as it dealt 109 Piercing damage. Rob let it savor its last meal for a moment before cleaving its head open with the Broken Shortsword.
Dagger Proficiency Level Increased! 1 → 2
Guess it makes sense that the Shortsword is more of a Dagger at this point. He dismissed the Broken Shortsword and kept his back to the Elves, waiting until the dopamine grin of Leveling High had faded before he turned to face them. The crowd recoiled as he stomped forward, bat still hanging from his arm. Rob stopped short in front of the Elf he’d pushed away and narrowed his eyes.
“You see this?” Rob held up his arm and shook it. The bat’s head flopped back and forth like a bobblehead. “This is a monster. It almost took your head off. Were you or were you not informed that this field trip of ours would be dangerous?”
The Elf stammered. Rob felt an iota of guilt for making an example of him, but if it would save their lives then he could stand being a bit of a dick. “I’m sorry, Lord Blightkiller,” the Elf eventually said. “I didn’t see it coming.”
“THEN PAY ATTENTION!” Rob directed his shout at every Elf in the nearby vicinity. All of them, the young and the old and everything in between, flinched back at his outburst. “There are 7000 of you fuckers and 50 of us Combat Class users. That means that each one of us has to be responsible for 140 of you. Do you honestly think I’m capable enough of keeping watch on more than 100 people at the same time?”
He looked back at the Elf he’d pushed aside, who grimaced in shame. It was weird, having the power and authority to chastise a seemingly middle-aged man – which meant he was like 200 or some shit – but if it worked, it worked.
“If I had been a single foot farther away from you, then your life would have been cut short by a freaking bat of all things. I’m not a Healer, and don’t expect that I’ll be able to get you to one in time should anything happen. I’ll fight for you where I can, when I can, but you have to work with me here. That involves keeping an eye out for any dangers coming out of the woods, and making sure you don’t screw up so badly that this happens to me.”
Rob held up his arm in front of the crowd and yanked the bat out. Blood poured out of the two open holes left by its fangs and dripped onto the grass, staining purple with red. The wound looked worse than it was – Lifesteal had somewhat patched it up, and Platelet Party and Regeneration would see to the rest in short order – but the sight inspired the effect he’d hoped for. Most of the Elves were turning as pale as ghosts, and more than one looked ready to faint.
“You’ll be alright, won’t you?” The voice of the Elf he’d singled out – who Rob finally decided to Identify as Cyrus – had taken on a pleading tone. “They said you possessed more Vitality than any sane person should. What about your self-healing abilities? Or damage mitigation?”
Freaking gossips. The nebulous ‘they’ strikes again. “I do own several Skills that could have healed or outright nullified this damage,” Rob said. “The thing is: they can only be used once every six hours. What would happen if I wasted them on chump change bats, and then an hour later, a Level 40 Behemoth comes screaming out of the trees? They exist. I’ve fought them. How many of you would die if I wasn’t at my best when and if the real threats arrive?”
The gnawing feeling of guilt eating away at him reached critical mass as the Elves’ expressions grew a little too pathetic for him to bear. He’d given them the stick; time for the carrot.
“I’m just trying to keep you alive,” Rob said, in a calmer tone. “That’s all. I’ll do everything I can, but I’m only one man. I won’t expect any of you to fight, but staying on your guard and keeping a close eye on our surroundings? I think that’s fair to ask. And I believe that each and every one of you is up to the task.”
Leadership Level Increased! 1 → 2
Huh, Rob thought, as he received a round of nods in return. Sure, I’ll take it.
–
Day 2
Rob sprinted as fast as he could around the edge of the procession. He passed by one group, two, three, four – until finally, he reached his destination. He sucked in air through his teeth as he saw her; the Ranger’s entire left leg had been bitten off at the knee. It was a testament to her fortitude that she wasn’t screaming bloody murder. Her face was stoic as the nearby civilians did their best to bind her wounds and staunch the bleeding, but the tension in her muscles and the way her lips quivered showed just how much agony she was in.
Party List. Rob kicked out the healthiest Elf and sent a quick Invite to the injured Ranger laying in front of him. The woman – named Lycia – accepted the Invitation. While the immediate effect was small, the rate of the blood spurting out of the stump of her leg slowed down as a portion of Platelet Party and Regeneration were passed onto her through the EXP Share. Lycia relaxed slightly and glanced at him with one eye, the other screwed shut in pain.
“My thanks, Blightkiller.” She grimaced, letting out a sigh of resignation. “I was...careless. Fuck. Mother always did say I should have been a Seamstress.” Lycia barked out a harsh laugh. “This is the end of my days as a Ranger, I suppose.”
“Don’t count yourself out just yet,” Rob said. “One of my Passive Skills lets me regrow limbs. It takes 6 hours for me, so for you it might take a day or two, but I’m confident you’ll be back on your feet soon enough. Literally.”
Glimmering hope returned to her eyes. “That’s – that’s astounding. Your Vitality must be-”
“I know. Just get some rest, okay? You’ll be taken good care of in the medical pavilion at the center of the convoy.”
Lycia nodded. “Of course. I must admit that it’s galling to be the first Ranger to be injured in such a way. The others will have to expand outward to cover up the hole in the defenses that will be left by my absence. I can only hope that I’ll be able to make up for my shortcomings after recovering from these wounds and the subsequent healing exhaustion.”
Rob nodded alongside her, keeping his poker face nice and secure. The EXP Share made him one of the most valuable ‘healers’ in the Elven expedition, which meant he was often called on when someone was injured and the actual Healers needed to conserve their MP. Normally, he kept the Ranger trainees in his Party – except for Vul’to, who kept refusing to join for whatever reason – but the other slots were filled with people who were in need of Regeneration and whatever other Vitality buffs he could give them. As a result, he possessed an intimate knowledge of what was going on at every corner of the expedition.
And he didn’t have the heart to tell Lycia that they’d already lost three Rangers and seventeen civilians that day.
–
Day 3
“How are you faring?” Orn’tol asked as he sat next to Rob. The Elves had stopped for the night, which afforded the Rangers a bit more leeway to spread out, take a breather, and check in on their friends. For his part, Rob had just finished doling out Stored supply crates to those who needed them and was about ready to get some well-earned R&R. He considered Orn’tol’s question for a moment before giving a noncommittal shrug.
“As good as anyone else is, I suppose.” They’d lost one Ranger and seven civilians today, which was an improvement over the day before. It hardly felt like cause for celebration. The silver lining was that Rob had managed to protect his own batch of miscreants and leveled up to Level 25 in the process. He’d put one extra stat point into Magic out of lingering spite and spread the remaining points between Strength, Dexterity, and Perception. Between the fighting and hitting some stat milestones, he’d leveled a bevy of Skills including Swordsmanship, Dagger Proficiency, Power Slash, Bulk Up, Step of the Wind, Fleet of Foot, and Leadership.
“Glad to hear that you’re holding in there,” Orn’tol said. “I myself am faring as well as can be expected.”
“Cool, cool. You heard from any of the others?”
“A little,” Orn’tol replied. “Vul’to continues to be reticent. The last I saw of Keira and Zamira, they were engaged in an impassioned discussion about the merits of different kinds of swords.”
Rob grinned. “That sounds like them. Also, ‘impassioned’? You’ve been working hard on your Common.”
Orn’tol smiled back. “I’ve been practicing.”
A beat passed.
“Sooo...” Rob began. “Are you going to introduce me or am I supposed to keep pretending she doesn’t exist?”
The young girl next to Orn’tol stood to her feet in a flash. “I’ll introduce myself,” she stated. “My name is Malika. Orn’tol’s sister, and future mage extraordinaire.” She raised her hand. “I never got the chance to thank you for keeping my brother safe during his ill-fated Dungeon Crawl.”
Rob smiled and accepted the High-Five. “Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you from Orn’tol.”
Malika smiled back, but hers was wider and with much more teeth. “Have you, now? Only good things, I assume?”
Orn’tol looked ill. A chill fell over the air as Malika waited for a reply.
“Only good things,” Rob reassured. “He sings your praises at every turn.”
Deception Level Increased! 1 → 2
Diplomacy Level Increased! 8 → 9
Holy crap, what minefield did I just avoid stepping in?
Malika nodded, soaking in the praise like a happy sponge. “Very good. Now, while I have your attention, I wanted to ask a request of you. Once we reach Reviton City, could you consider adding me to your Party with the rest of the trainees? I’d love to take advantage of Fast Learner so I can get a head-start on my Mage training.”
Rob tried to find a gentle way to let her down – he wasn’t ever going to set foot in Reviton – but stopped when Diplomacy flat-out told him to fudge the truth. “I’ll consider it because you’re Orn’tol’s sister, but I think my services will be in high demand. Why would you need it, anyway? You won’t be fighting anytime soon.”
Her eyes twinkled with desire. “That remains to be seen. Either way, Fast Learner will increase the efficiency rate of my self-study practice sessions. I would just adore being able to show up to my first spellcaster lesson with Skill Levels equal to my teachers – no, higher than my teachers.”
Rob whistled. “You’ve got a lot of ambition, don’t you?”
“Thank you,” she said, beaming. “I’ve already proven them wrong by practicing magic on my own with no adverse effects. A second victory would make the first all the sweeter.”
“Well, if everything pans out, it might actually be fun helping you show up some stuffy old dudes. That’s always an entertaining pastime.” Rob paused, giving her request some extra thought. “I’ve been putting some points into Magic recently, so I’ll be sure to inform you if I get any Passives that increase MP regeneration or something along those lines. Would let you shoot off even more spells to grind your Skills with. Oh, and Regeneration would help heal any wounds you might get from practicing, so while I strongly recommend you still be careful, that affords you a bit more leeway in experimentation.”
He paused and glanced at Orn’tol. “You okay? Why do you look like someone walked on your grave?”
–
Day 5
“No no no NO NO NO!”
Rob activated Step of the Wind, felt the last tick of Dexterity increase as Battle Fury maxed out, and moved his feet faster than he ever had before. It wasn’t enough. The screams outpaced him, vanishing into the distance.
The scenario he’d been dreading had come to pass. A Level 35 Infected Tiger blindsided them on the 5th day, and it was only by the eyes and ears of one particularly Perceptive civilian that they were given any warning at all. Rob put himself between the Infected and the civilians, making himself a target like he’d done every time before – and the beast leaped straight over his head, landing right in the middle of a shrieking buffet table.
The phrase ‘letting a fox into a henhouse’ didn’t do what followed justice. Two Elves were dead in the blink of an eye, their throats effortlessly torn out with an almost contemptuous ease. A couple of the higher-level civilians – by which that meant they were the slightly older Little League players – poked at the tiger with old spears that had been scooped out of some dusty warehouse in the Village. Their plan worked; that is, if their plan was to tickle it and draw its attention away from the others. Rob would never get the chance to ask, as they were sent to visit their ancestors in Lothren’s Hallowed Halls less than a second later.
Rob tried to get there in time. He really did. Using Rampage to get in close wasn’t an option; other civilians were in the way, and he’d just crash into them like a rock thrown through a glass window. It might still have been preferable. The alternative ended up being for him to watch in horror as the image of civilians torn to bloody ribbons seared itself into his brain.
Finally, the way was clear. Rampage shot him forward with a stab aimed at the tiger’s head as he tried to end the fight before it began. The Infected beast glared at him with bulging, bloodshot eyes and jumped straight into the attack, Rob’s Elven longsword slicing through part of the beast’s neck as its claws shredded his torso from top to bottom.
No fair, Rob had thought, as he sprawled to the ground and coughed up blood. That’s my strategy.
The fight from then on devolved into a game of cat and mouse as two heavily injured opponents sized each other up, taking quick potshots meant to bait the other into overcommitting. There was some measure of bestial cunning lying beneath the tiger’s twitching, Frenzied eyes; either it wasn’t as badly Infected as the others, or the Blight’s passing had lessened the Infection’s hold on the tiger’s psyche.
Either way, it worked in Rob’s favor, as a drawn-out fight was exactly what he wanted. It gave time for Regeneration and Platelet Party to stem his wounds as Battle Fever built up bit by bit. Despite how bad he looked on the outside, what with the bloodied clothes and ravaged flesh, Rob was in what he considered to be an ideal situation. His HP was at around half, meaning that Blood for Blood’s damage boost was maxed at its sweet spot – and he wanted to put out as much damage as possible before anyone else got hurt. Unlike him, the tiger wasn’t shrugging off his injury; being a giant Level 35 Infected didn’t give you carte blanche to completely ignore gaping neck wounds. And his aces in the hole, Not A Scratch and Lifesurge, were cards that he had yet to play.
