Skill Hunter: A LitRPG Adventure, page 31
And he let me get away.
Why? Why not take it back and give it to his precious… Ike looked at Rosamund’s head. He licked his lips. Oh. Right. Not-so-precious, replaceable, porcelain doll of a daughter.
I’m starting to get the feeling that there’s more to this. All of this. Me getting the skill. Rosamund. The city lord and his war. Everything.
Shaking his head, Ike turned back to his chickens. I’m in the Abyss. None of that matters.
A little voice in the back of his head spoke up. The city lord can enter the Abyss freely and grab you whenever he wants. Whatever his game is, you’re still playing it.
Ike grimaced. I’d better get strong fast. Whatever the city lord has planned for me, I’m sure it’s nothing good. The stronger I am, the more likely I’ll survive it.
He touched his core. Already, after one day’s hunt, it was larger; strong enough to hold more mana. There was something else, too, a shapeless something slowly taking form. Instinctively, he knew that when it reached its full shape, he would reach Rank 2.
He turned his head, gazing back into the forest. “Loup?”
The wolf perked up, lifting her head out of the pile of chicken feathers. One stuck to her nose, and she blew it free with a snort.
Ike nodded. “Tomorrow, we hunt again.”
52
CHICKENS FOR DAYS
The next few days blended together, each one the same as the last. In the mornings, at the crack of dawn, he and Loup rose from their slumber and took to the forest. They hunted chicken until night came, then dragged their kills home for Ike to dismantle. He couldn’t stop himself from breaking them down, even though he knew there was little chance he’d ever sell any part of them.
At least he’d obtained better storage techniques and found uses for some of the materials. Using a bone shovel, he’d dug a cave into the ground, and there he stored the raw meat. The cool of underground wouldn’t keep it fresh forever, but it kept it fresh for a little longer, so they wasted less of it. The hides he dried. The skins were remarkably less fragile than he’d thought they would be and surprisingly versatile. Together with the bones, they made the walls of his hut. The taut, oily material kept the water out better than his oiled canvas tent. Unfortunately, they didn’t fold well, or else he would have replaced his tent as well.
He fashioned a number of chicken claws into an assortment of knives, then simply piled them up in the corner. Of all the materials, the claws were the easiest to carry and seemed relatively profitable. They were his priority pile, in case he had to pack up camp and run for it.
Every morning, the rooster still crowed. Unobtainable. Distant, yet near enough to desire. Every day, Ike pushed further in his hunt, drawing closer to the source of those persistent crows. And still, all they’d encountered were hens.
As he fought his way through the monsters, his core expanded and strengthened, and he felt that shapeless thing in his core slowly take form. It felt firm, flat. He hated to borrow Rosamund’s words, but it felt like a foundation. His core was full with mana as well, both from the meat he ate and from the hunts themselves. Rosamund’s head still provided a steady stream of mana, though now he only used her head every few days. The longer he left it, the denser the black gunk became, and the more mana accumulated in Rosamund’s head. He could put lunam in her head without releasing the black gunk, so there was no difficulty in raising the density of the mana.
Speaking of that bunk about lunam making people go insane, or whatever seems to be total nonsense, Ike noted to himself. I’m still perfectly sane.
The page in Orin’s book that talked about lunam was pulled from another book. I wonder who wrote it, and why? Was someone trying to hide something about the Abyss? When it came to people who could freely enter and exit it, the city lord was the first person who appeared in Ike’s mind’s eye.
But then, the Abyss is inescapable.
Ike shook his head at himself. According to common knowledge, anyway. But common knowledge isn’t always true. I can’t escape it, but I’m only Rank 1. Higher-ranks avoid it because it’s “inescapable.” How many higher-ranked hunters or mages have fallen in the Abyss recently? They already know to avoid it.
But then, if a mage fell in and easily flew out, the way those maids always did when they followed Rosamund around…
His eyes widened. That’s right. The maids! They’d been flying, but the second they crossed over the Abyss, the flight skills faded. The same with Rosamund’s own rose-stepping skill. His brow furrowed. He twisted his lips, trying to put it all together. Abruptly, he sighed and shook his head.
I have some pieces, but I’m still missing some. I need more before I can put this together. For now, I’m just going to focus on getting stronger.
Speaking of getting stronger, he’d found more of the green Skill Orbs. All of them were embedded in the chickens’ legs. Their drumsticks or thighs, but always their legs. As he fused them into the first orb, the orb grew clearer and clearer. Now, only a small star of dust remained in its very center.
Ike pulled it out and lifted it to the sun. It twinkled, casting a green circle on the ground below. It might be more beautiful with that star in its heart.
He tucked it back away. Beautiful, but useless. He wouldn’t absorb it until the star was gone. If imperfect skills held him back from ranking up, he couldn’t make such a mistake now. A sinking feeling rolled over him. What if I already absorbed an imperfect skill? Worried, he quickly pulled up his skill list.
[Name: Ike | Age: 15 | Status: Nm | Rank: 1 [Abyss Dweller]]
Skills: Common: 5 | Bronze 2 | … | Rare 2 | … | Unique: 5
Common: All-Around Runner LVL 5 | Razor Handling LVL 9 | Spear Handling LVL 3 | Axe Handling LVL 4 | Sword Handling LVL 4 | Bow Handling LVL 1| Primitive Crafting LVL 5
Bronze: Sensory Enhancement LVL 4 | Mana Manipulation LVL 2
Rare: Salamander Healing LVL 8 | River-Splitting Sword LVL 3
Unique: Lightning Dash LVL 8 | Lightning Grasp LVL 5 | Lightning Clad (Forearm) LVL 3 | Lightning Clad (Calf) LVL 2 | Lightning Caller LVL 1
He crossed his arms, thinking. The Lightning skills are all fine, probably. The original orb was certainly perfect, and the skills I’ve based off of it… are based off a perfect skill, so they should be fine, right? I should ask someone, but who?
For now, I’ll just have to trust myself.
He moved to the Rare list. Salamander Healing was a skill Rosamund had described as a gift to the city lord, Lord Brightbriar, so it almost certainly was perfect. He didn’t recall seeing any defects in the River-Splitting Sword skill. For all that Silver was a bit of an oddball, he had no reason to harm Ike. Nor did he seem like the type to sneakily try to injure someone else. If he had a problem with Ike, he’d simply attack Ike outright.
He might have accidentally given me an imperfect skill, but I think I can rest easy that River-Splitting Sword is perfect, or close to perfect.
Down to the Bronze skills. There had been no visible defects in Sensory Enhancement. Plus, the owl had been bothering Silver for a long time, and on top of that, daring to bother Silver. It was high-enough rank that it was likely a few thousand years old. Old enough to have a good skill.
Mana Manipulation was another skill he had developed himself, and he was withholding judgment on personally developed skills at the moment. Which only left the Common skills.
Given that I had a few Level 2 or higher Common skills when I became a Rank 0, I doubt that they matter much for rank.
Ike nodded and uncrossed his arms. I think I’m good to go. If I have any imperfect skills, they’re barely imperfect. Rank 2, 3, maybe even 4 or higher. I can climb the ranks as long as I keep growing these skills!
He patted the Skill Orb in his pocket. And adding new, of course.
Loup looked up at him. She lifted her nose and nudged his hand.
“Let’s go hunt one more today, girl,” Ike said. As little as he liked overhunting, the fear that the city lord had some kind of plan for him made him keep hunting, keep fighting. He had to get stronger. As fast as possible.
Loup opened her mouth in a smile, her tongue lolling out. She padded ahead of him, looking back at Ike expectantly.
Ike snorted. Someone’s having fun. He jogged on, following Loup.
A rooster cry cut through the forest, closer than ever. A shadow stalked through the woods. Bobbing, clucking… hungry.
53
FIST OF THE ROOSTER
Loup slunk through the forest, searching after a scent trail. Ike followed after her. By now, picking his steps through the forest came as an instinct. He couldn’t move as quietly as Loup, but he got close. They crept toward a hen from downwind. It pecked at the weeds, unaware of their presence.
Loup glanced at Ike. She jogged ahead, putting some distance between the two of them. Ike paused where he stood, slightly behind the hen. He waited, counting slowly to ten. The hen shifted slightly in the clearing. He crept along with it, adding a few seconds to his count to allow Loup to adjust.
Abruptly, the hen’s head snapped up. It ran off, fleeing the scene entirely.
Ike frowned. He straightened. Hens had run off before, but usually he or Loup had made a mistake. Walked upwind, stepped on a stick, missed the timing. This time, though, he hadn’t noticed any obvious missteps. He ran the events back in his head just to be sure. No, I can’t come up with anything. Maybe I—
A shadow fell over Ike. A fierce cock-a-doodle-doo rang out on the quiet forest air. Black claws pierced toward his face, almost as large as Ike himself. Broad red wings spread overhead, stretching wide over the forest. A lustrous dark-green tail trailed on the wind.
Ike’s eyes widened. He activated Lightning Dash and sped into the forest.
The rooster slammed into the ground with an earth-rattling shake. Dust flew up from the point of the strike, and a nearby tree crashed to the ground. The rooster towered over Ike. The average trees only reached its underbelly, while the highest barely brushed its chest. It looked down on Ike and tilted its head. Its huge red wattle trembled. Its beak glistened in the sun. It opened its mouth, revealing a fat pink tongue, and jabbed its beak at Ike.
Ike drew his sword. He stood his ground. Lightning crackled around his forearms.
Beak met sword. Ike stumbled back but held the guard. They clashed for a long moment, and then Ike twisted his sword. The beak slid off the flat and struck the ground rather than Ike.
The boy’s eyes shone. He whipped around and sliced at the rooster’s head.
Faster than Ike thought possible, the giant rooster withdrew its head. Ike’s strike missed, a half-beat too slow. Standing tall over him once more, the rooster drew back its leg.
Oh, shit. Ike turned and fled out of the grassy clearing and into the forest.
The rooster chased after him, unleashing a flurry of kicks as it ran. Each kick felled trees. Dirt flew up. Wood creaked, groaned, and shattered. Tree trunks slammed down all around Ike. He turned around and ran backward, watching them fall with his enhanced senses. With their help, he managed to dart out of the way before any trunks hit him.
Snap. A young pine dropped down at him. Thick, wide-reaching branches cut off his escape. Ike gritted his teeth, then lowered his sword. He braced his legs. Lightning burst from his forearms and calves.
The shadow eclipsed Ike. The tree closed in on him. The very first branches brushed Ike’s head.
He unleashed the upward strike of the River-Splitting sword. His blade sliced through the branches, cutting a slash just wide enough for him. The tree struck the ground and bounced, but Ike stood in the ruins, unharmed.
Before he could feel relief, the rooster leaped at him. Black claws stretched wide, blocking out the sun. The rooster flapped, hovering over him to claw at him again and again.
Ike dropped down below the remaining branches. The pine tree bore the brunt of the rooster’s onslaught. Needles rained down on Ike. Pine sap filled the air, sharp and sweet. The branches shattered. A black claw gouged the pine trunk.
I have to get out of here. Ike glanced left, down the tree, and right, up toward its peak.
The rooster slammed its beak down inches from Ike’s right. Two beady eyes glared at him, each as big as Ike’s hand.
Left it is. He rolled to the left, toward the thicker branches lower on the tree.
Screeching at the top of its lungs, the rooster chased after him. Its beak clacked shut over and over. It snapped away branches, stripping the pine tree bare.
Ike kicked off the trunk and cut hard toward the rooster. It kept chewing through the tree, unaware of Ike’s turnabout. The rooster’s neck stretched before him, as broad as his entire body. Calling forth all his strength, Ike cut into the rooster’s neck.
The sword struck. Feathers flew. It jarred into the rooster’s neck, slicing skin and muscle. The blade hit something hard and stopped dead. Reverb jarred up Ike’s arms. He grimaced, hands and wrists aching. How hard are these bones? He grabbed the sword with both hands and yanked. Stuck fast, the sword refused to budge.
Oh, shit.
The rooster turned around, doubling back on itself. Its huge beak opened.
Ike yanked harder. He lifted his leg and kicked with all his might, pulling at the same time. He jerked the sword free. Blood spurted out. Ike stumbled back.
The rooster snapped at Ike. Off-balance, Ike back-handedly slapped the sword at it. The blade deflected off its beak. Rather than throwing the rooster back, Ike managed to throw himself back, barely out of the beak’s reach.
Doggedly, the rooster chased him down, biting again. This time, Ike had nothing. He was off-balance, his sword out of position, completely unprepared. He tensed, expecting pain.
Lightning boomed. The rooster stumbled, its head striking the ground. Ike looked up, startled. What the…
54
TWO LIGHTNING BOLTS
Loup leaped into the air and dropped down on the rooster’s head. She opened her mouth. Bright white light shone in her throat. She lowered her head, and thunder boomed as white light slammed into the rooster.
The rooster stumbled. Ike sliced at its throat again, but his sword stuck once more. This time, he expected it. The blow hurt less, and he yanked the sword out easily. The rooster screeched in pain, twisting its neck, and exposed his earlier, deeper cut. Muscle glistened in the sun, but not bone. Ike wrinkled his nose. I can’t behead it. I can’t even cut through its deep muscles. I need another plan.
With a vicious scream, the rooster tossed its head. Ike and Loup both flew into the air. Ike tumbled over a fallen tree and out of the rooster’s sight. The branches snapped under his body. He gritted his teeth against the ache.
Across the span of fallen trees, more wood cracked as Loup hit the ground. She yelped in pain.
Lying in the wreckage of the tree, splayed over the trunk, Ike’s heart jolted. “Loup!”
She yipped, her voice upbeat.
Still alive. Doing okay. Thank goodness. Ike turned back to the rooster.
Two tree-trunk-like legs stood before him. Black claws bit into the earth. Huge spurs lifted high at the back of the rooster’s foot. It hefted its head back.
Ike jumped up and dashed away, silver chasing his steps. The rooster slammed its beak down seconds later, piercing deep into the trunk. Ike glanced back, ready to round about and punish it for getting stuck, but the rooster easily drew its beak out. It stalked after him, beady eyes locked on his.
Loup climbed out of the trees. She growled. The rooster turned. Its eyes locked onto her instead.
Ike instantly whipped around and raced at the rooster’s feet. He hefted his sword and unleashed a slash at the rooster’s nearest ankle. Instead of trying to slice through the joint, Ike aimed for the back of the foot to sever the tendon. Scaly skin resisted the blade. He forced his way through, only to strike the stiff tendon. His sword cut halfway through, then stopped. He jerked it out.
The rooster screeched. It lifted its foot and delivered a powerful kick toward Ike.
Ike threw himself to the side. The foot swooshed by, ruffling his hair.
As it kicked, Loup darted in. She angled toward the rooster’s other ankle and slammed her teeth down. Lightning flickered around her jaw. She shook her head back and forth, wrenching the tendon with all her might.
Swapping to stand on its sliced leg, the rooster shook the leg Loup held onto. She dug in for a few seconds, then flew off. She rolled into a tree and vanished behind the leaves.
Before it could swap back, Ike drew back his sword. Lightning shone on his forearms. With all his strength, he sliced through the remaining tendon.
The rooster retracted its injured leg, swapping to stand on the one Loup gnawed. It drove its beak at Ike. The boy dashed, leaving only a buzz of electricity behind him. But this time, he didn’t dash away. He dashed in, toward the rooster’s remaining leg. His eyes locked onto the gnawed tendon. He slammed his foot down, securing his stance, and let forth the horizontal slash of the River-Splitting Sword at the rooster’s remaining ankle.
The mantis blade cut through easily. The gnawed skin couldn’t hold his sword back any longer. With a snap, he severed the tendon. The rooster fell, dropping onto its underbelly.
Ike charged in. The rooster reared back and struck at Ike, who deflected its blow and continued toward its neck. “Loup!”
On the other side of the rooster, Loup rose out of the dark of night. She leaped at the rooster, her mouth wide. Lightning flashed in her mouth.
Ike lowered the sword. He lifted his hand instead. White bolts crackled at his fingertips. At the same time that Loup bit it, he grasped the rooster’s neck.
