Level One God

I got my first real look at the creature. It was massive—at least seven feet tall—with a hunched back and long, sinewy arms that dragged on the ground. Its body was covered in matted, filthy fur with patches of skin visible through the tangled mess. The exposed skin was sickly gray, mottled with sores and scars.

Its face was an angular terror of jaws, jagged teeth, and small eyes that glowed faintly purple. Dark purple crystals jutted out of its back in a cluster, pulsing with energy.

Dark mana. Could I feed that to my bed?

[Nightmaw, Level 50 (Wood)] “This creature was once known as a 'Woodland Stalker.' Woodland Stalkers are agile, nocturnal hunters with exceptional night vision. They are known for their exceptional regenerative abilities, sometimes healing from near-fatal injuries in seconds. Hunters suggest removing the head to ensure a kill, though some claim that’s not always sufficient. However, this creature is now infused with dark mana, and some or all of its properties may have changed.”

“Possible regenerative properties,” I said through my teeth, still holding the nocked arrow tight as my hands shook.

“Okay,” Lyria said. “Ideas?”

“This arrow will explode if it touches flames,” I said. “Supposedly,” I added with a little less confidence. The damn hunger meter on my bed had me rushing into this dungeon without anywhere near the level of preparation I would’ve preferred. I just had to hope it wasn’t about to get us killed.

Speaking of my flammable arrow made me eye the fire dripping from Lyria’s shield. She seemed to have the same thought and ran her hand over it, extinguishing the flames.

Even with her shield unlit, I knew the Bombroot was less than ideal in such tight corridors. I only wished I knew how large the explosion could be. I didn’t know if it would be instantaneous or triggered after a delay. I didn’t know if it would send out a deadly shockwave in every direction or be more localized.

To put it simply, there was too much I didn’t know to feel great about this.

God dammit. Maybe if I hadn’t been so sleep-deprived, I would’ve realized we could afford at least a brief pause to perform small-scale tests. I supposed I was planning to do exactly that once I woke.

No use worrying about what I could have done differently now.

It was still moving slowly toward us. That was good. It was quite possible it hadn’t even seen us, but something told me turning and running would trigger a predator’s instinct.

I scanned the tunnel and took a quick mental inventory of my available tools. Poison resistance from my helm. Useful, but I had no way to know if it would matter right now. I had my regenerating Alchemist’s Kit. Again, useful, but it wasn’t going to solve this fight on its own. I had my Silver Scream bow and three arrows—poison, fire, and a highly flammable, explosive mixture. I had my Abyss Walker’s boots that would let me phase out of reality for two seconds. There was my Amulet of Escape, but I wasn’t about to waste that on what I assumed wasn’t even supposed to be a boss-level threat. My Ring of Protection would stop one blow, and I also had my magic dampening cloak. There was my net with its “Lay Down” effect, but I doubted I had time to set that up.

After those, all I really had were my common items—the plate bracers, mace, and whip, which weren’t likely to help.

I took a calming breath and formed a quick plan.

Silver Scream was my most powerful tool, hands down. I hastily re-read the description, making sure I remembered the details correctly.

[Silver Scream - Modification Ability. Duration: [2] minutes.] Modifies the potency of an effect, increasing over time. If the target does not remove [Silver Scream] before [2] minutes, all accumulated effects will be applied again instantaneously. Only one instance of [Silver Scream] can be active on a single target at a time.

Yeah. This could work.

I just needed to make sure I had something to keep it away from us for two minutes once I hit it with a Silver Scream arrow.

Shhhhh. Thump.

It kept shambling closer, almost drunkenly. The dangling moss dragged over its body like long, tangled hair, catching purple light from the crystals in the nightmaw’s back. The rotten smell of wet hair intensified.

It was maybe fifty feet away. Possibly less.

It would be close enough to shoot soon.

“I have a plan,” I said. “I don’t know if it’s a good one.”

“Is it better than me trying to petrify it and hoping that thing doesn’t swipe our heads off or resist the spell?”

“A little,” I said. “When I say so, we turn and run. Okay?”

Lyria nodded.

Shhh. Thump.

I relaxed my grip on the bow, clutching the arrow and metal shaft in one hand. With my free hand, I scooped up the Alchemist’s Kit full of Bombroot.

I could shoot the nightmaw first, but I thought that was the most likely to cause it to rush toward us. Throwing a glass bottle at the ceiling between us, though? That might not set it off yet.

I picked my spot carefully. I knew the roots and dirt above us might not be hard enough to shatter the bottle and release the Bombroot potion. A patch of jagged rocks was ahead, so I slung the Kit toward them with an underhand throw.

It was a direct hit, and the dull orange Bombroot potion splattered the ceiling and walls.

Now I just need to—what is that sensation?

I felt a sudden jab of awareness or alarm from the direction of the nightmaw. I could almost sense a gathering rush of—

The nightmaw spread its arms wide and screamed.

The sound was an instant explosion of pain.

I fell to my knees, eyes bulging as something deep in my ears popped, quickly replaced by a high-pitched ring.

My bow and the Bombroot arrow fell soundlessly beside me. I saw Lyria on her knees as well, mouth open in a wordless cry of pain as blood dripped from her ears.

Shit, shit, shit.

The blinding agony and confusion gripped me completely for a few seconds.

Ringing pain. Clumps of dirt and dust shaken free from the ceiling by the power of the noise. The huge, dark shape continuing its never-ending, deadly slow approach.

I was only halfway registering it all as a voice deep in my head screamed for me to snap out of it.

I clawed back my awareness. I needed to get a grip quickly, or it would be upon us and everything would be over.

I gripped Lyria’s shoulder to get her attention.

The creature was picking up speed, clawing at the walls with its hands to pull itself forward like an astronaut in zero gravity.

“Petrify it!” I shouted, but my voice was muffled and distant like it was coming from underwater.

Lyria looked at me, eyes wide.

“What?” she mouthed—or, more likely, she said the words, but I simply couldn’t hear them.

I pointed at her shield and then the beast, which was nearly too close for my plan to work.

Lyria nodded, raising the shield. The scales rippled and flashed with magic. I sensed the power streak out from the shield and encase the rapidly approaching beast.

Stone snapped into place around the nightmaw, freezing it mid-stride.

I scooped up my bow. I looked at my three choices. The Bombroot arrow had fallen to the ground, and the quiver still held my other two options.

Viperlilly seemed like the safest bet for dealing pure damage. But I worried its regenerative properties might negate the poison. Dragon’s Tail posed the same problem. The nightmaw could possibly regenerate fast enough to counteract the burning damage. That left the Bombroot.

I wasn’t sure Silver Scream could even work with the Bombroot potion, but I suspected it would. Even if the mixture needed fire to ignite, it was still a flammable liquid. I imagined the Silver Scream arrow would pump the nightmaw full of explosive fluids until it was a walking powder keg.

I doubted it could regenerate after being blown to pieces.

But neither could we. As soon as this arrow struck home, I planned to collapse the ceiling between us while Silver Scream worked its magic. I didn’t want to risk a stray spark from the nightmaw’s claw on Lyria’s armor turning it into an accidental kamikaze bomber, so we desperately needed to keep our distance.

I nocked the Bombroot arrow, aimed with one eye closed, and took a deep breath.

Don’t miss, Brynn.

The stone encasing the nightmaw snapped apart, and the creature roared again, but the damage to my ears was already done. I only felt the vibration and heard an electronic, distorted sound as its mouth gaped.

I released the arrow and saw it streak through the darkness, punching into the nightmaw’s broad chest.

No time to celebrate the successful shot.

I produced a vial of Dragon’s Tail, clutched it in one hand, and pointed my palm toward the Bombroot potion still dripping from the ceiling.

“Get low!” I shouted.

Lyria probably couldn’t hear my words, but saw the vial in my hand and seemed to guess my intentions.

We crouched. She raised the shield in front of us, and I got behind her, reaching one hand over her shoulder to aim at the Bombroot potion still dripping from the ceiling.

I used Elemental Projection, firing a stream of orange that immediately caught on fire as soon as it hit the air. It looked like a flamethrower coming from my palm.

I only had a second to appreciate the power before it reached the Bombroot.

Boom.

A ripple of clear, distorted air rushed toward us, slamming us backward like a full-body shove.

My Ring of Protection triggered, probably saving my insides from being liquefied by the shockwave as I was blown backward into Lyria. Her body tangled with mine as we both landed hard.

A split second later, rocks and debris flew past us, peppering me with small stones and dirt.

Lyria rolled off me and I blinked through watering, dirt-filled eyes. The tunnel was still full of settling dust that was too thick for me to know if the nightmaw was still coming.

When my vision and the dust finally cleared, I saw with relief that the ceiling had collapsed between us and the nightmaw.

We were safe.

For now, at least.

“It worked!” I shouted. There was no sound, though. I reached beneath my helmet and felt something warm and wet trickling from my ears.

I turned, spotted Lyria, and saw her face was bright red with blood.

It looked like the shockwave had knocked the edge of her shield into her face, slicing her with the sharp scales as surely as if it had been a blade. Even with me in front of her, the blast wave should have done lethal damage to her insides. The only explanation for her even breathing had to be some degree of magically enhanced toughness from leveling up in this world.

Whatever it was, I was thankful for it.

A huge gash ran from her upper lip to the bottom of her eye. Her armor was also crunched near her abdomen like a large rock had hit her from the explosion.

“Oh, shit,” I said. “I’m sorry.” I didn’t know if she could hear me. She looked unconscious. I also couldn’t hear my own words through the ringing in my ears.

A wave of sickening guilt filled my throat, but I didn’t let it slow my actions.

This, at least, was something I had done before. Triage. Assess the worst and most life-threatening damage, and get to work.

I produced a healing potion from one of my vials and gripped it. I fed mana through my fingertip and let the healing potion drizzle between her bleeding lips. The red potion filled her mouth and rolled over her cheek, dribbling to the ground.

She was gasping and spasming but not swallowing. “Lyria!” I shouted. “Drink the fucking potion.”

It didn’t matter if she could hear me or not, her body was giving out on her.

I gave up trying to get her to drink and tried dripping the potion directly on the wound on her face. It ran off like water, seemingly having no effect. If this was Earth, she would need stitches and a blood transfusion fast. I guessed her blood pressure was already plummeting. I also had no idea how much damage that blow to her abdomen had done.

I scooped her into my lap, holding her limp body as she twitched and choked.

“You’re not going to die. No way in hell,” I said, voice firm.

I closed my eyes, driving my focus deep down into my core. I had a new ability that could heal her. I had the power to fix this. All I had to do was figure out how to use it. Now.

I quickly scanned my new Heart class ability, hoping for some sudden insight.

[Common] Active Skill: Devour Mana. [Tier 1] Cause your target to devour their mana in exchange for health.

I pushed my awareness outward, searching for the mana in Lyria’s body.

I felt… something.

There was a dim presence. I thought I sensed something like when I searched for my own mana reserves. It wasn’t exactly like mine, though. Lyria’s mana wasn’t a cup full of pure liquid like my own. It was more like a porous material, like a sponge soaked with liquid. I imagined it would be wasteful, dripping and wasting her mana before it could become completely full. No wonder she had issues with mana capacity and recovery.

Focus, Brynn.

An instinct told me what to do. I formed an image of a spectral hand opening and closing around the “sponge” at her core. I pictured the fingers closing tight and almost felt a cool rush as mana ran over those fingers, dripping freely inside Lyria’s body. I could mentally urge the mana to certain places in her body where I vaguely sensed the damage.

The places where she was hurt were like dead spots—as if the mana channels were broken and frayed. I pressed, compelling the mana to flow to the dead zones.

I sensed her body drinking the mana. Devouring it.

Lyria gasped, her back arching as her skin glowed a faint blue. Azure light flashed in her eyes, which faded quickly.

She blinked, coughed, and her eyes opened slowly.

I watched blue light leak from the gash on her cheek and spread to her skin. It began stitching itself together, but then the sponge I was squeezing ran dry.

She was out of mana.

No, no, no. It wasn’t enough. There was still too much damage.

She shivered, then went limp in my arms again, eyes squeezing shut with pain.

She had her field kit, but I had no way to get it out of her slip space.

I summoned one of my remaining two Siphons from my inventory and held it to her lips.

I watched with relief as she sucked in, absorbing enough mana that I could feel the sponge within her core practically dripping with fresh mana. I squeezed hard again, and the blue light was brighter this time.

It rushed through her at my mental command, sealing skin together with cold blue light until her flesh was undamaged and new.

Lyria sat up, saw me holding her, and flinched back.

She mouthed something I couldn’t hear. I didn’t care. I cupped her face, smiling. She smiled back, then gently pushed my hands off and glared at me.

I was even happy to see her usual glare.

The crushing weight of fear released its grip on me. Maybe there was still a nightmaw on the other side of that rubble, but Lyria was okay.

I focused inward and found my body's central collection of mana. After feeling Lyria’s, I was slightly shocked by how dense mine was. Even a full mana core for Lyria was like the drops wrung from a rag compared to a full pitcher in my core.

I focused on the crisp blue liquid and imagined dipping a hand inside. I cupped it, then let it spill into my body, urging it toward my damaged ears. Cool relief rushed up through me like tendrils of ice.

With a fuzzy crackle and then a pop, my ears cleared, and I could hear again. I could hear the nightmaw on the other side of the rubble now. It was desperately growling and pulling at stones and dirt from the sounds of it.

I wondered if there was time to set up and prime my net. No. We didn’t have long.

“Brynn? What happened?” Lyria asked.

“I figured out one of my new abilities. And you’re not dead,” I said quickly. My eyes were already on the mini-map. The red dot was still on the other side of the debris. “But that thing is still alive, and—”

The rubble moved. A long, hairy arm punched through and began digging an opening.

#

Cassian

I had to admit, the rogue was pretty good. I was finishing my lunch while I watched him handle a pair of fucked-up dog things. They stood on two feet with dangling arms and a tangle of teeth.

Rake ducked a swing, appeared in the shadow behind one of them, and plunged his daggers deep. Shadows spilled from the wounds, rising from the ground and forming spikes that fired at the creature, punching more wounds that bled their own shadows.

The combination had a cascading effect that was both impressive and deadly.

The poison mage was also… interesting. He was fucking mad, of course. But interesting.

He giggled, eyes wide as he raised his hands like a prophet. Sickly green skulls formed in the air above him, opening their cackling jaws to spray green fire on the other dog.

The poison flames engulfed it, sucking some kind of essence from it that flowed toward the mage. He opened his mouth wide like a snake, breathing it in, then shivered with apparent relief.

With the enemies dead, Rake gave both his daggers a flick, spraying blood on the ground.

He looked my way. “Are we boring you, lordling?”

“No,” I said, tossing the remains of my apple. “You two seemed to have it handled.”

Rake sniffed. “Wood trash.” He gave the dead dog a kick to emphasize his point. “Alright,” he said, pulling something from his cloak. It was a little vial full of red powder. He unstoppered it, sniffed it in, and shuddered.

I watched, feeling disgust roll through me. What the hell had I gotten myself involved in? The poison mage was clearly on his way to turning full Forsaken. And Rake was apparently a dust fiend. Fucking wonderful.

Rake smirked, approaching until he was inches from me. I was half a head taller than the man, so he had to tilt his head to glare at me. “Don’t give me that look, boy. I only use it for an edge in combat, and I could care less if I go weeks without.” There was a challenge in his eyes. He was daring me to call him an addict.

I tilted my head, locking eyes with him. I couldn’t say I cared if he was or wasn’t. I just didn’t want to deal with the unpredictability of people like this. I liked order. I liked knowing what to expect. Ironic, then, that this whole mission was an exercise in chaos.

Rake was still staring at me, so I gave a simple shrug. “Alright, then,” I said.

He laughed through his nose, but it didn’t touch his eyes. “Watch yourself. That fancy armor of yours has gaps. Never gutted a prince,” he said thoughtfully.

“Are we done here?” I asked. He was boring me. This whole fucking ordeal was boring me. I supposed that was the way of family business. I was the lowest rank and the most suited for this mission, even if it was dirty and beneath me. My sister could have filled this role well enough, but Mother would never allow Father to send her to do such dangerous, vile work.

No, precious little Ciranda was too perfect for dirty work. Leave that to Cassian.

Frankly, I would prefer to kill these two and handle the rest myself.

That would be orderly. It would be simple and clean.

But Father’s plots were always tangled webs, and it was beneath him to explain all of their workings, even to his own children.

We were just pawns to him.

Infuriating but unavoidable. I knew better than to deviate from the plan. I may hate it, but I knew better than to think Father didn’t know what he was doing, even if he had been acting strangely the past few weeks.

Years of boredom and pointless politics, then suddenly, he was acting as if the world was on fire. Constantly rambling about secrets and meeting with mysterious people. And now this…

Rake pointed a knife down the tunnel. “We’ll finish checking this corridor. I don’t think they’ll have had time to get far. If we don’t find them soon, we double back to the entry chamber and try another.”

The poison mage giggled and broke into a run, following after Rake.

I joined them, curious to finally meet the man with the helmet who was causing so much fuss.