Skill Hunter: A LitRPG Adventure, page 8
A merciful gasp of air. Ike delighted in it, drinking that one moment of air as if it were water in a desert, an oasis before a dying man. He blinked, struggling to see, his eyes half-cooked, whole body aching. Before he could orient himself, the Salamander shook itself, trying to dislodge the bone in its throat. Determined, Ike clung on, but even as he did, he realized: he would not survive this. Sooner or later, the Salamander would dislodge him and swallow him into that sizzling acid sack, or else swallow enough water to cook him where he sat. Holding on solved nothing. Staying still meant his death.
Gritting his teeth, Ike forced himself into motion. The slightest twitch sent agony racing through his body, skin super-sensitive from the repeated scalding, the flesh beneath achy. He pushed all that back and glared at the fuzzy wall ahead of him, putting all his hatred, all his frustration, all the fury at his uncle and this shitty party into his motions as he dug his hands into the Salamander’s throat. Activating Lightning Grasp, he pierced into its slippery, soft throat, pulling and stabbing until orange blood began flowing down past him. The wound healed as he dug, but slowly, the monster’s healing worn down by the party’s efforts earlier. The Salamander roared in pain, sending another blast of cool, merciful air past Ike. Encouraged, Ike dug deeper, deeper, anything for one more rush of air. The Salamander screamed, and he dug both hands in, walking his legs up to push against the opposite side of its throat. Air. Air! A crazed man, he ferociously clawed into its flesh, seeking more of the life-giving stuff, even thick with sulfur as it was.
Again, the Salamander thrashed. Another wave of water slammed into Ike. His body screamed again, every piece of him on fire, not a single centimeter unscathed. Ike gasped, barely resisting the urge to scream. He couldn’t move, couldn’t twitch. Everything hurt. Motion. Breathing. Thinking.
The water drained away, rushing out of the creature’s gills. Gasping a thin breath, Ike mustered all his willpower and pushed through the pain. He struggled on, sinking his hands deeper into the Salamander’s hot flesh, pulling out chunks of gore, boiling orange blood all but cooking his fingers as he dug, and dug, and dug. He craved winter and cold—ice, a cool wind, cold water, a chilled drink—but instead, he pierced deeper and deeper, the Salamander’s meat searing his palm, its blood singing his forearms as it ran to his elbow. His own blood rushed down his body from where its teeth sank into him, sizzling into the monster’s stomach. Ike shivered, trembling all over, but dug deeper anyway, blind to everything but the hole he dug in the monster’s throat and the brief relief of the monster’s pained roars.
Deeper and deeper. More and more blood. His hands slipped. For a moment, he plunged toward the acid before he caught himself on the throat once more. Braced there, barely holding on, he heard the gurgle of another wave of boiling water rushing his way.
Limbs trembling, every bit of him exhausted, Ike forced his aching legs to tense, then leaped. He latched onto the hole he’d dug in the creature’s throat with both hands and hung there. The water washed over him. Everything burned. Everything ached. But he held on, refusing to let go.
The water passed. Lifting his hands again, Ike clawed on. Another handful of flesh. Another.
A throbbing vein appeared before him. Ike stared. No way.
The wound began to close, and Ike startled back into motion. Launching himself forward with all his remaining strength, he bit into the Salamander’s vein. Hot orange blood ran down his throat. Ignoring the searing pain, he tore again and again. Blood poured past him, rivers of it, rushing down into the creature’s stomach. Ike clawed his hands into it, biting, tearing, pulling.
Air. Sweet, cool air. Ike heaved a breath, exhausted. Using both hands, he ripped through the monster’s flesh and out into the world, burrowing out of the side of its neck. The water had receeded, leaving damp, temporarily cooler sand behind. He fell down into the wet, exhausted, panting, his whole body stained with blood and flesh, every inch of him bright red with burns. Outside felt icy cold. He shivered and couldn’t stop, as cold as though he lay in pure snow instead of sand so hot it steamed. Ike struggled to move, whole body stiff.
Behind him, the Salamander gave one last great thrash, then went still. It thumped down beside him, its great maw hanging lifelessly open centimeters from Ike’s body.
Rank Up! Congratulations on Rank 1!
Ike gazed at it—the immense, dead thing. I killed that. I did. I… killed it.
And now I’m going to die.
Something rolled out from the Salamander’s mouth, rattling over the sand to Ike’s fingertips. Numbly, his hand closed around it.
Dimly, he heard the party jump back into the pit. Boots slopped through wet sand. A shadow fell over him. With the last bit of his strength, Ike turned and watched as Joseph lifted his boot. Leather treads hung over Ike’s head.
“First you injure Tana, then you steal the kill? Bait should act like bait and die,” Joseph spat, slamming his boot down.
As the boot hurtled down, Ike clenched his hand. In his head, he shouted, Absorb!
9
REVENGE
The Skill Orb that had rolled out of the Salamander’s mouth burst with light. A pulse of mana traveled up his arm and into his core, reinforcing it. His whole body tingled, pins and needles bursting out.
Rare Skill Obtained: Salamander Healing
[Name: Ike | Age: 15 | Status: Burn | Rank: 1 [Salamander Slayer]]
Skills: Common: 3 | … | Rare 1 | … | Unique: 2
Common: Sprinter LVL 5 | Distance Runner LVL 8 | Razor Handling LVL 7
Rare: Salamander Healing LVL 1
Unique: Lightning Dash LVL 4 | Lightning Grasp LVL 3
Ike grinned. A wave of comfort washed over him, weakening the pain and granting him vigor even as his mana drained away. He threw himself out of the way of Joseph’s boot, and the man’s foot slammed into the ground instead. Wet sand flew up, splattering Ike’s back. He kept rolling, then pushed himself back to his feet. The healing skill swirled in his eyes, and his vision returned. Ike cut his eyes across the pit, searching for the glimmer of his razor. If the Salamander didn’t swallow it, it’d be… there!
Joseph lunged at him. Before he reached, Ike activated Lightning Dash and kicked off the ground, zooming past Joseph at hyper speed. He crossed the pit in a few steps. The pit’s wall rushed up, rushing at him faster than he’d imagined. Startled by his own speed, he canceled his skill and dug in his heels, skidding to a halt. He looked around him, searching for his razor.
So fast… so easy! Is this the difference between Rank 0 and Rank 1? All this time, he’d thought the guilds handed out ranks, that ranks themselves were no more than a fancy placard and a silver coin, obtained once the adventurer proved to the guilds they could hunt a powerful-enough monster. Instead, the System handed out ranks as a measure of power… Then what do guilds do? Take your money for nothing?
A glimmer in the sand. His razor! Ike snatched it up just as Joseph closed in on him. He darted to the side, barely avoiding Joseph’s fist, and lashed out with the razor. A bright red line opened up on Joseph’s arm.
Ike glanced past Joseph at the rest of the party. Behind Joseph, Sandra hesitated, then charged as well. Tana stood blankly, unresponsive once more. Ket swirled his dagger around his hand and backed away, falling into shadow.
“Distracted?” Joseph lunged at him, his fist closing in on Ike’s face.
Ike swayed back, pushing off the loose sand to jump back. The sand absorbed his strength. He landed closer than he’d expected. Joseph closed in, advancing with firm, confident footing, and raised his hand again. Ike jumped back again. Joseph advanced, certainty written across his face.
Ike’s stomach ran cold as his mana drained, the healing skill stealing more mana than he’d expected. The lightning around his feet flickered, barely holding on. He’d only just leveled up to Rank 1. Compared to Joseph, a long-time Rank 1, his mana reserves and skill levels were pitiful, not to mention his still-healing injuries and exhaustion. Even with his new skill and ranking up, Joseph still had the upper hand.
Ike clenched his teeth. I have to finish this quickly.
In a sky enriched by the recent gush of boiling water, clouds gathered, quickly darkening. The sky crackled with lightning. Thick drops of rain began to fall, sizzling onto the already-damp sands. Ike backed toward the wall, Joseph and Sandra closing in on him.
“Why—why,” Ike panted, stalling for time. Cutting his Lightning Dash down to its absolute minimum activation, he breathed heavily, earnestly panting. Surreptitiously, he drew as much mana as he could with each breath. Very little came to him, and what did burned, boiling in his core, but he pushed his pain away. He needed mana right now, mana at any cost. His core vacillated in temperature, superheated from the fresh mana at the same time it cooled as mana flowed out. Ike’s stomach roiled, guts churning, but he pushed that back, too. Now wasn’t the time. Any cost, as long as he survived this.
“Why? Because you hurt Tana,” Joseph said, taking a moment to wipe his face off.
“It was an accident. I—you, you said something, bait,” he panted, cutting his eyes at Sandra.
She flinched.
Good.
Joseph rolled his eyes. “You want to know the truth? Fine. We picked you up as bait. We’re only Rank 1s, and none of us are tanks. Sandra’s the closest, and she’s only half a tank. We can’t take the hits of a prolonged battle against a mob and a boss.
“The four of us, defeating a mob of salamanders and the Salamander? Not possible. But if we have one throwaway Rank 0, a piece of trash who was never going to make it as a hunter anyway… then we Rank 1s can make bank and rank up in record time.
“In fact, this was going to be my Rank 2 battle. But instead…” Joseph lowered his hand, pointing at Ike. “Instead, a worthless, hopeless, useless piece of bait stole my Rank 2.”
And your Salamander Healing skill, Ike thought to himself, but said nothing. If they weren’t aware that the Salamander had dropped a skill, he wasn’t going to bring it to their attention. He kept breathing, sucking in every drop of mana he could. His wounds slowly healed, strength returning. Moving hurt less, his clothes no longer an agony against his skin.
“So fuck off and die,” Joseph finished. Sand flew, and he flashed forward.
Ike jumped to the side. Joseph’s fist slammed into the cliff wall instead. Rock and earth flew up, flying past Ike with enough force to draw blood. Ike eyed Joseph’s fist. If I get hit by that, I’m dead.
Sandra closed in, sweeping her axe in a wide arc. From the other side, Joseph darted in, ready to punch in Ike’s escape route. Forced back, Ike dodged away again, only for his shoulder to strike the wall. Sandra stepped forward and lifted her axe again.
“Please, my uncle. I owe him so much,” Ike pleaded, looking Sandra in the eyes.
Sandra hesitated. Her axe froze.
“Sandra!” Joseph snapped.
She startled back to reality, but too slowly. Ike slipped under her guard and slammed his razor into the same armpit the Salamander had torn open, driving the blade home up to the hilt. Sandra shuddered, gasping for breath. She stumbled back, pushing Ike away.
Ike ripped the blade free. Blood poured out, and Sandra fell. Ike watched her hit the ground, his eyelids drooping. Of the whole party, he’d wanted to kill her the least. She’d seemed conflicted. Uncertain.
She gasped for air, every breath strained. Bright, frothy blood poured out of her, soaking into the sand, watered down by the rain. She still clenched the axe in one hand, her eyes turned to the roiling sky, blood splattering as she coughed. His heart shook, resolve wavering. Is it worth it? Is anything worth… this?
A moment later, he set his jaw. She’d attacked him first. She’d sat back and done nothing while Joseph and the others led who knew how many Rank 0s to their deaths. Her sympathy made no difference to her complicity in their crimes.
“Sandra!” Joseph screamed. He glared at Ike. “How dare you?”
Lightning crackled overhead. Ike backed away from the wall, giving himself more room to maneuver. His gaze cold, he stared back at Joseph. “How dare you?”
Under his cold demeanor, his stomach churned, his mind in disarray. Kill. He’d killed. A woman. Someone he’d spoken with just minutes ago, a living, breathing person.
And he had to kill again if he wanted to survive.
Years under his uncle taught him to hide his fear, hide his self-disgust, hide everything. Keep his emotions under lock and key until he found somewhere safe to release them. Now, facing down Joseph, he did the same. Swallowing disgust, fear, loss, he froze his heart and lifted his bloodied razor. Ike pointed it at Joseph, nothing in his mind but the intent to kill the man before him.
Joseph lifted his fists. The two of them circled one another. A few fat droplets of rain splattered down around them.
Thunder rumbled. They both leaped toward one another. Joseph slammed his fist toward Ike’s stomach, going for a body blow.
Ike swayed to the side, dodging the blow. For the first time in his fight with the party, lightning flickered around his hand. The razor darted for Joseph’s neck.
A hit smashed into his ribs from the other side as Joseph’s left fist flew in from his blind spot. His ribs cracked. Sick, sharp pain welled through his stomach—the disgusting sensation of a freshly broken bone. Ike stumbled but pressed on, hand still flying forth despite the injury.
Joseph jerked his neck back. Between that and the stumble, Ike’s razor barely skimmed his neck, drawing a line but not a fatal blow.
They parted. Ike backed away, free hand wrapped around his broken ribs. He swayed, his eyes bleary, whole body slumping with exhaustion. Joseph chased after him, hauling back his fist to finish him off.
Ike’s eyes glittered. As Joseph punched him, he grabbed Joseph’s arm with his free hand, pulling him close, and shoved the razor up under Joseph’s ribcage. For the second time, hot blood gushed over his hand. He grabbed onto Joseph, his own body wrecked, leaning his weight on Joseph to remain standing. He couldn’t fall now. Not with two members of the party still alive.
Joseph glared at him. “Fucking… die.”
“No,” Ike said and released him.
Joseph fell onto his face. Ike staggered back, his ribcage a mess of pain, skin still aching from the burns, half-falling, half-walking until his back finally met the cliff wall. There, he panted, then forcibly slowed his breath, gasping in mana. The lightning faded from his feet. Exhaustion flooded him, Salamander Healing still a drain on his mana.
Across the field, for the first time since the Salamander fell, Tana moved.
Ike tried to push off the wall. His ribs jostled in his chest. The pain slammed into his brain, so intense that his vision darkened at the edges. He coughed, spitting blood, and fell back against the wall. Clutching his razor, he watched as Tana approached, powerless to do anything else. With every passing second, his body healed, but slowly—too slow.
She drew up to Joseph’s body and stopped, turning closed eyes toward him.
“Sorry I killed your boyfriend,” Ike tried, watching for her reaction. Stall for time. Heal a little more. Then—
Joseph reached toward her, his hand trembling. “Tana… don’t go…”
A sharp-edged, jagged, ugly magic circle appeared on the back of his hand, mirrored around Tana’s throat. The vicious design possessed a bruise-like quality, dark purples and blacks, biting deep into both their flesh. Ike had never seen one before, but only one word came to mind: a curse.
Joseph’s eyes shut, and his hand hit the ground. The magic circle shattered, and so did the one around Tana’s neck, fragments of magic peeling off her neck and falling away.
Tana’s eyes opened. Black sclera. White irises. Pinpoint pupils.
Ike startled. Like Ket’s?
Lightning flashed, and Ket stepped out from behind her, turning those same eerie eyes on Ike while bowing. “We will not forget this kindness.”
“I… What?” Ike asked, lost. Joseph put a curse on Tana—one that controlled her or something. I can put that much together. But those eyes… What do they mean?
I know too little about this world. I need to see more. Experience the world.
Tana put her arm over Ket’s shoulders, and Ket scooped up her legs. He leaped into the air, and they bounded away, escaping into the forest in a few quick leaps.
Ike sagged against the wall, exhausted. Rain poured down, the stormclouds finally letting loose. He sighed, wiping rain from his face. Too much. It was all too much.
Sliding down the wall, his eyes slid closed. His head sagged against his chest, and Ike fell asleep.
10
A PATH HOME
Heat under Ike’s rear woke him. He startled, patting around at the ground around him, only to singe his hands as well. Ike jumped to his feet, only for his feet to slip in the loose sand. He fell back against the cliff wall, his ribs jostling in his chest.
Ike blinked, clearing his eyes. He stood in the sand pit from earlier. Little pools of water bubbled up here and there on step-like layers of sand-covered rock, a large pool boiling in the center of the pit. A woman in armor and a man wearing leather gauntlets lay on the floor of the pit, dead. All around them, dead salamanders piled up, and at the pit’s center, the enormous Salamander sprawled near the pool, utterly still.
Right. I… Ike took a deep breath. He paused, then walked over to the bodies. In a few seconds, he stripped them of their coins but left everything else. Grabbing Sandra by her ankles, he dragged her into the central pool and pushed her into the depths, then did the same with Joseph. There, he dusted off his hands. Now they looked as though they’d been drowned by the Salamander. With any luck, some little salamanders would nibble on them and turn them into skeletons before anyone found them, leaving no proof of his actions.
