Darling of Fate: A LitRPG Apocalypse Adventure, page 8
Fucking overpowered…
I opened up my Status and put all 30 points into Mastery. A total of 49 points, amplified by 50%… okay, math wasn’t my strong suit. But it would be close to 75. Compared to my 23 Agility, that was massive.
Confirm stat point allocation:
+ 30 Mastery
Y/N
Please don’t wrack me with 30 orgasms right now, I thought before mentally accepting. Painful bliss didn’t come—thankfully—but I did feel… something. It didn’t feel tangible like I imagined a Strength or Agility boost would have. But there was an undeniable feeling of understanding.
The fight below took on another dimension.
What had originally appeared to be pointless feints, blocked strikes, and missed opportunities now took on an element of genius. The panther was baiting the lizard, and I knew—just knew—that the lizard didn’t recognize it.
A strike just a half-inch to the right of center, created a directional bias.
Feint after feint after feint, created desensitized reactions.
A stutter step pushed the lizard a half-step in a specific direction.
The patterns announced themselves in my mind and it was child’s play to pierce the veil of trickery the panther was crafting.
But I didn’t know why. The what, the how—even the when—all crystal clear in my newly-enhanced mind. But it seemed to be for naught. Why was he pushing the lizard this way? Why was he eliciting micro-adjustments in the position of the buckler?
Why, why, why, why?
After another few minutes, I had my answer.
The lizard swung his bladed-whip in a vicious counterattack in response to the panther’s dash backward. I could intuit that the trajectory was spot on, the panther leaning awkwardly forward—unable to dodge.
And just when the blade of the whip was about to bite into the panther’s flesh, he disappeared—
And reappeared directly in front of the lizard, his blade 6 inches deep in the lizard’s gut. The lizard grunted in pain, his balance thrown off from the missed attack and the metal embedded in his belly. From my angle, I could see that the panther’s blade had bypassed the lizard’s buckler by less than an inch.
And everything snapped into place.
Yes, Mastery seemed like the way to go.
But first, it needed a pressure test.
The panther ripped his blade out lightning-quick, then slashed it across the lizard’s throat. The creature stood there, its eyes wide, blue blood spurting from its wound. And then it collapsed.
The lizards hissed as one, their tails lashing. The panthers bared their teeth and growled, predator smiles on their faces.
And me? I started clapping—slow at first, then faster, louder.
All eyes turned to me—even my own people—and I clapped harder.
Your skill with [One-Handed Small Blade] has reached level 1
Your skill with [One-Handed Small Blade] has reached level 2
Your skill with [One-Handed Small Blade] has reached level 3
Your skill with [Small Buckler] has reached level 1
Your skill with [Whip] has reached level 1
No way! Just watching the fight with my boosted Mastery had leveled up some weapon skills! I lovingly stroked my cape, a soft smile touching my lips.
Focusing my intent, I tried to pull up a Skill Sheet. A blue box appeared in my vision with multiple tabs. There were Practical Skills, Athletics, and Weapon Skills. When I focused on Practical Skills, a cascading wave of skills filled my vision and nearly overwhelmed me. There was everything you could possibly imagine—reading, writing, arithmetic, geometry, driving a four-wheeled vehicle, and so on. I quickly tabbed over to the Athletics tab, but that list was nearly as long. At the top of the list, I noticed a sort button, and rearranged the list in descending order.
Athletics
Climbing Category — [15/20]
Bouldering — [11/20]
Free Soloing — [15/20]
Indoors — [12/20]
Ropes — [14/20]
Building Exteriors — [12/20]
…
Running Category — [13/20]
Sprinting — [15/20]
Medium Distance — [13/20]
Long Distance — [11/20]
Hurdles — [7/20]
…
The list went on and on, the Climbing Skill alone having 40 plus sub-skills—most of which were above level 10. I remembered my Mantle trait that extended the Skill Cap by five. I wondered if the original Skill Cap was 15 or 20. Switching tabs, I examined the Weapon Skills page. It was much more succinct, and I noted that I didn’t appear to have any carryover from before the System Apocalypse, like the Practical and Athletics Skills.
Weapon Skills
(New) Improvised Explosives — [2/20]
(New) One-Handed Small Blade — [3/20]
(New) Small Buckler — [1/20]
(New) Whip — [1/20]
In the background, while I continued to comb through the various Skills across the three tabs, the dead lizard’s body sank into the arena floor, his buckler and whip left behind. The panther reached down, and the items zipped to his hand, then disappeared. A sharp grating sound came from across the Hall, and a man-sized statue of the dead lizard materialized in one of the previously empty alcoves. A System message overlaid on top of my Skills Sheet.
A Hero has been slain.
Hundirop, son of Umndirop, the Prime of the Co’xatl, has been slain by Kneer Ungr, the Prime of the Jree.
Honor Hundirop’s sacrifice to the greater good of the Integrated Universe.
Hundirop [Level 12][Gladiator]
The message seemed to appear in front of us all. The lizards—Co’xatl, I guessed—bowed their head in solemnity. The Jree reared back their heads and roared.
The humans at my side just waved away the message and shot hasty glances at the door leading back to our Personal Spaces. Well, some of them did, at least.
As for me, I started for the other side of the arena, walking around the lip. As I passed the Co’xatl, they snapped their jaws and waved their tails menacingly. One of them tried to whip me with the appendage, but an invisible force stopped the strike inches from my face. I kept smiling and pushed through, the force field shoving the lizard’s tail away as I moved. After a few moments, the six remaining Co’xatl disappeared without warning. I assumed it was because their Prime was dead and a new Prime had been chosen among the lizards.
The Prime of the Jree had magically appeared back on the upper portion of the arena, his fellow panthers nodding to him in deference. When he saw me approaching, he bared his fangs in what appeared to be both smile and a threat.
“You must be the human Prime.” His voice was deep, his tone amused.
That answered my question about the System translating. Distantly, I wondered how he knew I was human—I hadn’t heard of either of these races until the System announcement a moment earlier.
As I was contemplating that, an unpleasant, probing sensation passed over my body. Ah, that must be what [Analysis] feels like. No wonder Jerome didn’t like it.
I returned the favor, casting it on him.
Name: Kneer Ungr, Prime of Jree
Class: (Obscured)
Level: 13
Race: Jree (Obscured)
Age: 115
Height: 5’10”
Weight: 206 lbs.
Body:
Strength: 29
Agility: 47
Endurance: 28
Mind:
Intelligence: 14
Perception: 19
Mastery: 24
Spirit:
Charisma: 8
Willpower: 27
Enlightenment: 16
Affinity: (Obscured)
Traits: (Obscured)
Ranking: #1 (Race-Specific Rank: #1)
His eyes narrowed as we scanned each other. Maybe he was thrown off by my high Mastery.
“We wondered if any of your race would make it,” he said after a moment.
I shrugged, my stance loose. “Our System fucked things up pretty good.”
He turned back to his people, that weird panther smile on display. “He’s ranked 114,389.”
The panther-fucks chuffed and snorted and made other odd panther noises in amusement. I ignored them, my mind focusing on that new information.
I had been wondering about that high number in my Status Sheet. I didn’t know if the rankings were relevant—oh, who was I kidding? Rankings were always relevant. I promised to flick Lex one more time when I got back but didn’t let my annoyance register on my face.
I knew I’d get the last laugh.
I always did.
But before I could enact my plan, I had to verify something first. I cast my second class’s ability, [Darling of Fate], to see if it was active before the Tower opened and what exactly would happen if it had been. I remembered the description mentioned I’d have seven charges for Ground Zero, too. But I wasn’t sure if that had activated yet. Plus, there was a chance it simply reverted me back to some unspecified point in time without my input.
But it was active. When I read the System message in front of me, I laughed out loud, my whole body wracked with amusement. Kneer’s eyes flashed dangerously, and my amusement redoubled when I realized I had elicited a reaction. A quick mental effort dismissed the System prompt, canceling the spell.
“Something amusing, meat?” he asked, his voice soft. The other six Jree fanned out behind him in a show of solidarity.
A glance over at my own people—stock still, quivering in their fucking shoes. Even big, bad Jerome had a stricken look to him.
Then it clicked—Kneer must have chosen the [Emperor’s Mantle], causing a fear effect in the other Co-Integrated races. My own Mantle made me immune, I remembered. The idea of feeling fear while I had [Darling of Fate] was laughable.
So I laughed in his face again.
His hand lashed out and ricocheted off an invisible field around me. A prompt appeared in my eyes just as fast.
The Prime of the Jree, Kneer Ungr, has challenged you to a formal duel under the eyes of Heaven. Use of your [Mantle] will not be permitted. [Mantle]-imparted traits are still active.
Accept?
Y/N
“Ahh, you want a piece of daddy?” I asked, a smirk etched ear-to-ear.
He growled, his face inches from mine, his snout pressing against the invisible field. “I will pluck out your eyes and feed them to you—”
“Jesus Christ,” I exclaimed, backing up. “Have you kitty-cats invented toothpaste yet?” I waved my hand in front of my face to disperse the smell. “My God, do you lick your own asshole or something? Because our own cats do that shit, but I’d expect better from—”
“Enough!” he growled, his blade in his hand. “Accept the duel or we will hunt your kind to extermination when the First Floor opens up!”
Hmm, that was new information. We’d be seeing these guys a lot, then.
“Sure thing, shit breath. Just give me a minute.” I turned to the humans cowering across the arena. “Hey, Jerome,” I called. He flinched back in surprise, his eyes hardening. “Can I borrow your shank?” I turned back to Kneer. “This little pussy cat wants to dance.”
Chapter 12
This Is My System Apocalypse
As I walked back over to the crew, I took perverse pleasure in the looks of absolute shock on their faces.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Jerome whispered as I neared. “That thing’s gonna eat yo ass alive, then come for us!”
Byron was nodding along. “I’m with Jerry—” A curt look from Jerome and Byron stuttered. “—Uh, I mean, um. Jerome’s right,” he amended. “That guy was fast! And he teleported or something!”
“This is just a fact-finding mission,” I said with a smile. “How about it, Jerry—” If looks could kill, I’d be dead. “—Can I use your shank? You’ll get it back—” I looked off in thought. “—At least, you should get it back.”
“Will you stop this foolishness, boy!” Mama G piped in. “These demons—” She spat the word in the direction of the aliens. “—were sent by the Devil!”
“Okay, Mama G, I’ll say my Hail Marys after,” I said. “Deal?”
She turned away, all her goodwill wasted on me. That seemed to happen to me a lot…
I turned to the others. “Amos, Lacy…” I snapped my fingers as I looked at the young Hispanic boy. “I’m sorry, I forgot your name.”
“Fr-Frank,” he stuttered.
“Frrannkk, doh! I knew that,” I said, smacking my head. “How bout it, Frank? Anything to add?”
Surprisingly, he did have something to add. “I-it wasn’t a-a teleport,” he stammered. “At least, I don’t think so. He we-went right back to—” I cut him off with a soft finger to his lips.
I already knew what he was driving at, and it surprised me that he had picked up on it too. A quick [Analysis] cleared up how he knew that.
His Intelligence was 42.
Probably related to his class, which I recalled was Studious Scholar.
“Thanks, Frank—” I pointed over my shoulder with my thumb. “—but I think they have really good hearing.”
His eyes went wide and he nodded.
I scanned the crew one more time, then clapped my hands together suddenly, the sound making most of them jump in surprise as it echoed through the Hall. “Well, this is me! I’ll see you guys on the next try!”
They cast strange looks my way, but I spun on my heels, took two steps, then faltered. Holding out my hand, I bated my eyes at big ol’ Jerome. “Jerry, honey. Be a doll, would ya?”
He snarled, summoning his rusted shank to his hand with his Prison Pocket ability. “If it’ll git you outta my face—” He slammed the shank into my hand, flaring the forcefield.
I transferred the blade to my offhand, saluted Jerome seriously, then flashed him a wink.
“It will. But only a short reprieve, big guy,” I said as I sauntered away. The description of the blade appeared in my vision.
[Jerome’s Homemade Prison Shank] [Legendary] [Earth-based Item (Planet #10773724717)]
Rank: 0
Experience: 0/10,000
Status: On Loan
Bearer: Jerome Dillon (Local rank: #142,594 — Co-Integrated Rank: #3,914,389)
It was interesting that his blade and my Mantle had an experience field. I wondered if the experience was allocated automatically or if we had to manually level up the items. I made a mental note to ask Lex after the duel.
Across the arena, the Jree Prime was huddled with his people, though I noted his ears were swiveled my way. When I made it over to the Jree, Kneer rolled his shoulders and turned to me.
“Lost your nerve?” he growled. “If you abase yourself and swear fealty—” He pointed to my crew across the arena. “—All of you. Then I will let your insult pass.”
My smile widened as a fun idea slipped into my brain. Why not have a little fun?
“Excuse me,” I said, turning away.
Clearing my throat, I summoned as much sticky, gooey phlegm as I could, turned back, and hawked it right into his face. Funny enough, the invisible barrier that protected us from violence did nothing for saliva. My wad of green spit—hm, did I have a cold?—splashed in his eye. He recoiled in disgust and surprise as his people roared with rage.
“Not sure about the cultural disparities,” I continued over the noise from the Jree. “But in our world, that’s a pretty rude thing—”
His claws slammed and scrabbled against the invisible barrier protecting me, and growls of rage erupted from him. When his anger proved impotent, he whirled to face my crew.
“Remember the name, Dirk Damascus,” he raged. “For as long as you have to breathe, that is! That is the name of the man responsible for the eradication of your entire—”
I accepted the duel request.
We were immediately teleported to the hard-packed sand of the arena below. From above, the Jree howled in pleasure, eager to watch their Prime rip me limb from limb.
From my own side, there were remarks that were… less encouraging.
“Fuck you, Dirk!”
“Goddammit! Why’d you have to go and piss him off?”
“Shoulda just died in peace, bro.”
I waved back at them. “Thank you for your kind words! I shall see you all shortly!”
Jerome flipped me off and Amos jerked his fist up and down. I believe he was calling me a wanker. I think I saw it on BBC once.
In my vision, a System message appeared.
Honorable combat has been initiated and accepted. Your [Mantle] has been disabled inside the arena. This fight is to the death.
Would you like to forfeit your [Mantle] and end the duel prematurely?
Yes, to accept dishonor, relinquish your status as Prime, and be banned from the [Hall of Heroes] forever.
No, to continue with the duel.
Y/N
Interesting little mechanic there. A peaceful way to pass on Mantles in the future, perhaps?
Clearing my mind, I hit No.
Duel commences in:
5…
4…
3…
2…
1…
Stretching my neck, I looked at Kneer for the first time since teleporting down into the arena. Puckering my lips, I blew him a kiss. His upper lip peeled in a snarl.
Begin!
He didn’t launch himself across the sand as I had expected. Instead, he started circling slowly, each step taking a full second. My Mastery—or maybe it was me, don’t sell yourself short, Dirk!—clued me in on what he was doing almost immediately.
I played along, my smile never faltering, my steps matching his perfectly.
But after a few moments of mirroring each other, I grew bored. It would be lame if we ended things so quickly.
So I broke the pattern and skipped to the center of the arena. He paused as I moved, his back to the wall. I put my hands in the air and did a little pirouette.
“I knew that boy was cracked,” Jerome said from above.
I looked up at Jerome, turning my back fully on the Jree. Gasps of surprise went out from everyone.
“Why, Jerome, am I cracked because I enjoy the sensation of zero consequences?” I spun around again, noting that Kneer hadn’t moved a muscle during my antics. “There’s no freer feeling!”
