Skill Hunter: A LitRPG Adventure, page 3
The elite guards marched through the compound. Liz walked up to them, putting her arms out. “Hey! Who gave you the right to come in here?”
A flash of motion. Too quickly for Ike’s eyes to follow, something moved. Liz staggered back, then fell to the ground. Her body convulsed and her eyes rolled up in her head, and then she went still, totally, utterly still.
Ike stared. His breath came short, and his hands clenched at the orb under his shirt. Fear chilled his bones, chased a moment later by burning rage. His knuckles whitened on the orb. Liz… Liz is…
The left guard looked at his hand, then at Liz. He curled his hand into a fist a few times, frowning at it. “I forget how delicate the unawakened are.”
The right guard stepped forward, tapping his sword. “No quick motions, now, no backtalk, or you can join her on the ground.”
Ike’s heart raced, his whole body shaking. Making it her fault for being “delicate.” Turning their backs to her. Forgetting her. Liz. Liz. The only one who looked out for him. The only one who tried to help—her, that Liz—
The blow replayed in his mind. The crack. The way her head snapped back. He desperately wanted to rush out, put a hand over her mouth, and check for breath, but to do so was suicide. So instead, he lurked there in the dark, hidden by the shadows of the hut, knuckles tight on the orb, legs braced to leap forth, every atom of him wishing those guards death. His eyes bored into them, memorizing their faces. The left one’s dark hair and delicate features, poorly disguised by the night’s stubble, the right one’s blond buzz, peach fuzz chin, and dark, heartless eyes.
The other workers staggered back. One turned to run, only for a knife to pierce into his back, bearing him to the ground. “Don’t flee,” the guard on the left commanded, lightning flickering around his fingers.
The right guard slashed the blood off his sword, then sheathed it. “Do not resist. We are here under the authority of the city. Please come forward if you have any information on the theft that occurred last night. If you recovered the item, step forward. You might receive an award.”
Receive an award? Liz lay behind them, still, oh so still. The other worker lay face-down on the ground, motionless. Ike shook his head, slowly backing away from the door into deeper shadow. Those guards only handed out death.
The right guard made a face, then reached into his jacket. He pulled out a pair of angled rods and held them loosely in his hands. The rods shifted, pointing toward the hide hut.
The other guard looked around at the other workers. “Who works there?”
There was a pause. Sean stumbled through the gate, still carrying a bottle. He looked at the guards, then where they pointed. “You looking for Ike? Boss’s nephew?”
He glanced downward, and he caught sight of Liz, so still on the ground. Sean gasped and stumbled back, startled, clenching the bottle so hard it cracked.
“Thank you,” the left guard said. He handed Sean a silver coin and followed his fellow guard toward the hut.
Sean stared from the coin in his hand to Liz and back, alcohol-addled struggling to process what had happened.
The other workers glanced around at one another, then backed away, all heading to their working areas and leaving the guards to the hut.
Backing away from the door, Ike took quick, short breaths. They’re going to kill me. Yanking the orb out from under his shirt, he looked at it. Hand it over, or open it?
With one last glance at the approaching guards, Ike ran to the back of the hut, then hunkered down. Three lines of hides marched between him and the door, hiding him from the door and the guards in the courtyard. He examined the small orb closely.
“City Guard. Come out now with your hands in the air!”
Ike glanced up, then back at the orb. Just big enough to fit in one hand, but large enough it fit uncomfortably, the orb sat solidly before him. He turned it over in his hands feverishly, searching for an entrance point. What did I do? Last night, when it cracked open. What did I do?
The lines around its center drew his eyes. He jumped in place, remembering. That’s right. The lines!
With no clear beginning and no end, the lines circled the orb, infinitely flowing. He lifted his free hand and traced the lines, drawing a path roughly around the center point of the orb.
The lines glowed. Light traveled from a point facing Ike to swirl around the whole orb, and with a crack, the orb popped open. Two hemispheres of metal fell away, revealing the smaller orb within.
Ike stilled. His eyes widened. He’d only caught a glimpse before, but now—now he truly saw it.
Mirror-smooth surface, perfectly round. Rainbow light radiated a few inches off its surface, swirling around it like an aurora. Immense power thrummed forth, striking his heart like the beat of an enormous bass drum, and he sucked a breath reflexively.
A perfect Skill Orb. Highest grade.
What skill? What— Looking at the orb, Ike knew it didn’t matter. No matter what skill the orb contained, it was a Skill Orb. Access to the System. A chance to overturn his dingy life and claim the one he’d longed for.
A little voice in the back of his head replied, Stolen. It’s stolen! That’s the end of your life, right there! Hand it over!
In his mind’s eye, Liz’s head snapped back again. That crack, sharp as lightning. His lip twitched, and the voice went silent. No. Not to them.
A slash. The sound of tearing hide and a thump as a frame fell over. “This is your last chance to surrender before we start cutting this place down.”
Without another moment’s hesitation, he snatched the Skill Orb out of the shell, mentally commanding it into his body with the command he’d heard his uncle shout a bare few times. Absorb!
Light burst out from between the cracks in his fingers. Heat sank into his palm, swirling up his arm and into his chest. It swirled there, then rushed through his entire body, coursing through his torso, his head, every limb and extremity. His stomach lurched, and he pitched forward, almost falling to his knees as he vomited, more than he’d thought was in his stomach pouring out onto the forest floor. Sweat dripped from every pore, dragging black filth with it. He wiped his face with his shirt, and black like coal smudged the entire bottom half of the garment. His vision blurred, and he shook as if with fever, clutching onto the nearest rack for dear life.
What’s happening? Am I dying?
It occurred to him then that he’d heard of such things. Incompatibility with the System. Poor match with initial skill. Corrupted Skill Orb. The bodies, found twisted, hideously deformed, so misshapen even their family members couldn’t recognize them, lying in pools of their own shit and vomit.
Terror struck Ike to the core, but a second later, he pushed it away. Better than dying like a dog at the hands of the guards.
As suddenly as it had come on, the pain faded. Ike froze in place for a few moments, taken aback by the abruptness of it all, then slowly uncurled. It felt as if hours had passed, but based on the sun and the men at the front of the hut, only a few seconds had ticked by. He looked around, then down at his hands. Spots of filth flecked his arms, his legs, every piece of bare skin. When he wiped them clean, the skin beneath gleamed, healthier than it had been in ages. He flexed his arm, and the motion came smoothly, comfortably, with none of the day’s aches in his shoulders or forearms. He touched his face and found no swelling. His nose didn’t ache, even when he tweaked it.
Is this… Did I…
[Welcome to the System]
3
TO SURVIVE
[Welcome to the System]
The panel vanished, and aside from the filth and the lightness of his body, no evidence remained that Ike had activated the System at all.
Ike’s eyes widened. He grinned. Everything could come true now. All his dreams. Becoming an adventurer. Surpassing his uncle’s rank and leaving everything behind. Striking out on his own and building a life for himself. All within his grasp. All attainable.
“We’ve waited long enough. Private Jones, go ahead.”
A wave of force washed over the hut, snapping the hides on their frames. Power built up, palpable on the air, and bright light glowed from the guard’s sword, backlighting his hand to a silhouetted claw, so bright as to sear through the hides.
Ike drew a quick breath. No time for celebration. System, skill! What skill did I get?
Dutifully, a panel appeared. Time seemed to slow as Ike searched for the answer.
[Name: Ike | Age: 15 | Status: Nm | Rank: 0 [Newly Awakened]]
Skills: Common: 3 | … | Unique: 1
Common: Sprinter LVL 2 | Distance Runner LVL 3 | Razor Handling LVL 2
Unique: Lightning Dash LVL 1
Move by borrowing speed from lightning. May attract lightning strikes.
Dash. Lightning. Pieces of information darted out at him. He pressed his lips together. Running now would be admitting guilt. No. Escaping wasn’t the answer.
Why didn’t I get an attack skill? The thought jolted through his mind for a split second before he suppressed it. He narrowed his eyes at the skill, grinning quietly to himself. Who needs an attack when you have speed? Besides… His eyes darted to the last few words. Lightning strikes. Lightning strikes!
From the other side of the room, a sharp sound rang out. The first row of hides dropped to the ground, sliced down. The next row of frames trembled where they stood, barely holding on. Two rows remained between the guards and Ike.
He rolled onto his back and lifted his feet into the air, afraid the skill would drag him toward the guards unbidden otherwise. As loud as he could, he thought, Lightning Dash!
A trickle of energy rolled through his body, from his stomach down to his legs. Lightning flashed around his ankles for a split second, then nothing. Ike frowned, confused. Activating the skill again, he tried pedaling his legs this time, pushing the strange new energy toward his feet as he did so.
Instantly, lightning began building at his ankles. Understanding flashed through him, clear as day. Skills didn’t move the body. They didn’t move magic. They were a formula. A method to move magic through the body in order to create an effect. He moved his body. He pushed that energy—mana—through his body to where Lightning Dash needed it to be. Once his mana grew close enough, the skill gripped it and shaped it, creating the spell, the magic, Lightning Dash.
As he used the skill, he observed the way the skill shaped his magic from outside. A stray thought entered his head. If he memorized it, would he be able to use the technique without activating the skill?
Thoughts for later. He shelved the idea, focusing only on the moment.
Lightning Dash, the skill, only remained active for a few seconds at a time. Ike activated it again and again, forcing his legs to keep going. The sky darkened. Thunder rolled in the distance. Ike panted. Sweat coursed down him. His whole body shook with the intensity of his still running.
Once again, light built on the other side of the hides. A sword slash rang out, slicing through the next row. One final row of frames stood between Ike and the guards.
Ike’s legs pedaled faster than ever. With the repeated activations of Lightning Dash stacking on top of one another, the lightning flickering around his ankles grew thicker, from the circumference of a hair to the width of a fingernail. His feet blurred faster and faster, whistling through the air. A faint purple mist appeared around his feet. His stomach cooled as the energy flowed out of it, draining steadily toward empty.
Overhead, thunder grumbled, louder than before. The light filtering in through the holes in the roof took on a bruised, purplish cast, a thick cloud growing overhead.
“I see you there. Come out now, and you can still escape death,” one of the guards announced.
Ike said nothing. Single-mindedly, he spun his legs faster and faster, calling the lightning to him with his whole heart. His stomach pulled tight to his spine, cold as ice, but he pushed a little more mana into the skill anyway. Come on!
Light built up, pouring from the hilt on the man’s waist. Silhouetted through the hides, the guard reached for his sword.
CRACK!
The whole room went white. Thunder roared, deafeningly loud. The hut fell in on itself, clumps of burning thatch tumbling down with the roof beams and the walls. The heavy roof beams crashed into the rotting floor. The beam beneath Ike snapped, dropping Ike down to the earth beneath the crawlspace. The guards cursed, falling back. One still lashed out with his sword, blindly, and a wave of furious energy surged into the sky.
Thick smoke filled the remnants of the hut, blinding Ike and the guards alike. Unlike the guards, though, Ike knew the space like the back of his hand. Ike leaped to his feet. Still operating the Lightning Dash, he darted by the guards. Even without his vision, he knew exactly where to step, his instincts guiding his feet toward the solid boards. One of the guards shouted and reached for him, but the guard’s foot dropped into a hole, and he tipped over, forced to catch himself rather than Ike.
Out of the smoke. Ike sprinted directly out of the hut toward Sean, who stared at Liz, still stunned. Ike tried to turn, but his feet refused to follow his orders, clutched in the grasp of the skill. He dug in his heels in and canceled the skill, barely skidding to a halt, then cut a sharp turn and sprinted in a straight line out the door. By the time Sean turned, he was a blur on the horizon.
“Who was that?” Sean asked, looking at the workers around him.
“Huh? Who was what?” Nora frowned at him, lost.
“I thought…” Sean frowned. He stared out the gate, but no one stood anywhere close to the plant. He shook his head. “Must’ve been a mistake.”
The guards stumbled out of the smoke, coughing and waving their hands. They glared at Sean. “What was that? A trap?”
“What? No.” Confused, Sean squinted at them. “How would I even make lightning strike? I don’t control the weather.”
One guard backed toward the door, blocking off his exit. The other one slapped a pair of slender silvery cuffs on Sean’s wrists. “You’re coming with us.”
“I… What?” Lost, Sean followed after them.
“Hey! You can’t take him! He didn’t do anything!” Nora shouted.
One of the guards approached her, holding out cuffs.
“It was me, just me. Don’t touch her,” Sean spoke up suddenly, pulling at the guard’s hold. “She had nothing to do with this.”
“Private Jones. Let’s not waste more time. Even the air here is full of filth. It’s making my nose run,” the guard holding Sean called.
The other guard stopped. With a nod, he turned around, walking back to the other’s side, and together, they walked Sean away.
From high on a nearby hill, Ike paused, watching the scene unfold from over his shoulder. Seeing the guards lead Sean away, he allowed himself a little smile. A second later, he turned away and sped off, leaving the plant behind.
A blade scraped over hide. Fur dropped to the ground. Sitting quietly, Ike worked down the line of hides as usual. And yet, everything was not “as usual.” A gray-uniformed guard peered in the gate on her patrol, eyeing them all with suspicion before she moved on. Pasted on the board at the front of the plant, next to the cafeteria’s menu and the week’s ratios, was an image of the fireballs, painted by a skilled hand, and an offering of a hundred silvers for anyone who came forth with information on any of the stolen Skill Orbs.
It hadn’t taken long for the guards to realize Sean wasn’t their man. No time at all, in fact. Sean hadn’t reappeared, but neither had they stopped looking for whoever had claimed the orb. They swarmed the slums, poking their noses into every little thing. It set the entire slum on edge. Everyone kept quiet, heading straight home from work. The bars lay empty, save the most devoted drunkards. It grated against Ike, but there was nothing he could do about it. Not yet.
He had to keep quiet. Keep his skill under wraps.
If he admitted he’d awakened, he’d draw far too much attention. His uncle knew he had no money, so there was no playing it off as having bought one. He’d played with claiming that he’d killed a monster and found a Skill Orb on its corpse, but the story had too many holes. The few people he knew who’d killed monsters looked more like Sean than him. Plus, most weak monsters didn’t possess Skill Orbs. One in a hundred, one in a thousand—he wasn’t sure of the exact chances, but he knew they weren’t good. With no way to explain his awakening, he did what he did best—kept his head down and lay low.
For the three days after he’d blasted the guards with lightning, he’d barely been able to drag himself out of bed. Icy cold had suffused his body, and his limbs hung heavy from his body. The first day, he’d been terrified, afraid that he was dying, but as he slowly strengthened day after day, he understood. Not death—low mana. As little as he knew about skills, he knew skills required mana to function, and putting two and two together, the space in his abdomen that felt warm, now, and cold immediately after using his skill, was what held his mana. Using the skill repeatedly depleted his mana, and the exhaustion was the cost of mana depletion.
Ike squinted up at the sun. A broad, gorgeous blue sky stretched above him, save where the overcity hovered, a permanent cloud in the sky, just as white as the clouds themselves.
“Good to see you out here, doing some real work,” Nora said, walking into his line of sight.
Ike grunted. “It’s a nice change of pace.”
“A pity about the hut, though.” She glanced over at the blackened ruins of what had been the hide hut.
“Luckily, I wasn’t there,” Ike commented.
“Lady Luck smiled on you, surely. Although… you know, I could’ve sworn I saw you go in there that morning,” Nora commented, giving him a look.
He shrugged at her. “I don’t know who you saw, but it wasn’t me. I overslept. I wish I was there, honestly. My uncle clapped my ears good when he found me snoozing.” Rubbing a still-swollen ear, he grimaced a little.
Although he’d healed when he’d activated the System, his new role as an awakened didn’t seem to have permanently boosted his healing rate. Fortunately for him, from his point of view. He would’ve hated to have to punch his own ears every morning.
