“Do you guys not have a job or something? Go touch each other like before!” He shouted to the group behind him.
Angry roars erupted through the air, disputing that claim. Shards detonated with a whistling shrill. Rotten vines hissed and belted the sand behind him.
And Zayn? He was struck with newfound regret about his life choices.
For one, sand was a terrain. The absolute worst. Particularly when the moon bled and the air reeked of burnt chicken. It was as though he was inside an oven—just waiting for his turn to be grilled.
And two, the stoneheads and crackheads, who’d been having a generational feud just moments ago, had somehow forged a sudden sense of camaraderie.
That would’ve been heartwarming if he weren’t the common enemy.
Trash-talking the local gangs was never the brightest idea, he supposed.
running the hell away. Not only did the points in dexterity help, but air felt like a natural extension of his body. The whistling and weaving of vibrations were the only reason he could dodge the gazillion attacks thrown his way.
But judging from the angry mob, it wouldn’t be long before he was caught and porcupined.
Afterward, the treants would feast on his flesh, while the stone golems would take his femur as a war trophy—displaying it to the future guests as a warning.
Over the years, they might even form an unexpected treaty over this event, becoming comrades in arms.
The Stone Ape Undead Treant Knight
Still, if the crowd kept swelling like it was, they too might join in to see what the commotion was all about.
But it wasn’t all doom and gloom.
Initially, having so many choices boggled his mind, but now he was just stuck between sword and spear. Unfortunately, his time to ruminate had passed. If he didn’t choose right now, he’d be passing away too.
He came to a difficult decision: “Sword.”
Sure, spears may have been a smarter choice. More reach, better thrust leverage, and lower skill ceiling, and all. But even though he’d like something longer with better thrusting capabilities, longer wasn’t always better.
At any moment, he could be surrounded by the treants, and in tight spaces, swords were almost certainly better to wield and defend himself with. Besides, he didn’t like spears that much. Swords were just more badass.
He’d fight anyone who said otherwise.
Zayn waited eagerly, but no magical sword dropped out of the sky like last time. Just as he wondered whether he had been scammed, he found a sword in his storage ring. And out he summoned it.
The “sword” shimmered slightly in his hand, drinking the moonlight as though it were charging itself. Its body was shaped like a fang, with slightly curved protrusions appearing at both of the edges, like teeth.
Well…there was only one problem!
“How the fuck do you call this a sword?! Swords are elegant, swift, and brutal,” He spat as he held it to defend itself, “This thing is wider and taller than me!”
Not because he was short or scrawny. He was still over six feet tall, and this sword, if you could even call it that, was at least nine feet tall! It almost made him look like a barbarian out on a quest.
Despite a desperate need to curse him out, he was forced to stop.
He slashed sideways, deflecting a whipping vine that was aiming for his head.
Like the name, the sword was impossibly light in his hand, weighing almost…nothing. It struck the whip back with a startling ease. Sent it flying back like it was mere air.
But Zayn knew from experience that those things weren’t air. They were heavy, sharp, and they stung! God, they stung a whole lot! The lines of red streaks on his body would testify!
As he brought the sword out, the crackheads grew angrier for some reason. That was weird because he’d argue was actually on side. They were supposed to fight against the golems together, not join them too!
But he didn’t blame them; only a fool would blame things with no eyes.
He rushed at the nearest Stone golem and burst through its lousy head. Some easy pickings, these zombie golems.
All it took was a single sweeping strike, and its head turned into a cloud of dust.
He tried to laugh, only to inhale some of it.
Then he spat in annoyance and prepared himself to vent it on his next victim—another stone golem—who was just twenty feet ahead, fighting with a treant.
These two were clearly staging the fight. There was no spirit in those swings. No hatred, no technique beyond the act of fighting, as though they were merely putting on a play. He didn’t appreciate that.
He bolted at them at a breakneck speed, intending to demonstrate to them the art of fighting.
When it came to street fighting, the best strike was always the first strike—the recipient never saw it coming. On Earth, that’d get you jailed for assault, murder if unlucky. But there were no police in Eldera, hopefully.
He finished the golem with a swift, decisive strike.
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Energy spread to every corner of his body, and [I’m a gamer]
Still, pain was preferable to death.
He exhaled slightly, feeling a metallic taste linger in his tongue. Was it from the sand or his blood? He couldn’t quite distinguish anymore. But once his health went over fifty, his body ceased its fight or flight response.
Not a good thing since his legs had nearly turned into jelly from exhaustion. Leaping, he hid behind a towering boulder almost double his size. He recognized it immediately. This was the same stone that had almost crushed him.
Ironically, he’d run back to the same place.
By now, the entire terrain was as plain as a carpet. Eighty percent of the dunes had been leveled. Two giants grinding away at each other would do that, sure.
Thankfully, the group of golems and treants lost his trial after he hid himself. One of the smaller ones looked at the direction of the boulder, hesitated a bit, and then went in some other direction.
There, the biggest treant with an axe berated the group, clearly the boss of the . The rest nodded in shame, followed its lead to who knew where. Their silhouette became tinier under the red moon.
Zayn stared in amusement as they went off roaring into the distance. They were probably saying something very provocative in their language. Good thing he couldn’t understand them.
Bringing out the last energy bar he had on himself, he stared at it with a bit of reluctance. The gravefruits were nice, but they didn’t taste like real food. And eating them came with the side effects of drowsiness and tipsiness. He couldn’t risk that here.
Did he really have to buy food from that system store?
He bit down angrily on the bar, snapping it. The dryness of the bar clawed at his throat, but he stopped himself from chugging down every last bit of water. The night had just begun. And he wasn’t sure if it would ever end.
To pull himself out of the depression of budgeting, he gazed at Hollowfang.
In his lap, it resembled a curved fang with twin, razor-sharp edges. Its mirrored edges caught the moonlight and gleamed with a bloodthirsty sheen. On its wide body were etched runes that somehow gave the impression of being ancient, likely the cause of its weightlessness.
More importantly, its hilt ended at an open jaw, almost like a hook. An idea flashed through his mind. From his storage ring, he pulled out Raka’s chain, looping it into the hilt and the hook. Pulling on it, he felt it adequately resilient.
Standing up, he spun his chains around in an arc and swung the sword down! A loud rumble rang out as the sword sank deep inside the sand and cut a line through the dune without any pressure.
A silly grin rose on his face. Wasn’t this…just a chain-sword, now? He gave a silly laugh, “I’m like the god of war now.”
After swinging it around for a while, he gave up on the idea. It was fun, and occasionally, it could come into clutch, but if he wasn’t careful, he’d end up cutting himself in half instead of the enemy.
That would truly be the worst way to die.
And finally, did he notice that his benefactor had left him a gift—something rather amazing. Zayn held the card in his hand. On its back was a pupilless blue eye that glowed like sea waves crashing on the shore, back and forth.
Reveals the methods to unlock three separate trials, each demanding absolute precision in combat — for only through perfect understanding can truebe forged. Each awards up to a Bronze feat.
Only applicable to those under level 50!
Should you open the card, you must complete the trials within the next seven days. If any of these challenges are not completed, the knowledge would henceforth vanish from your mind, and you shall lose the right to earn those feats ever again.
“Sure.”
3 new Trails added!
Perform a perfect kill! (0/11)
Perform a perfect parry! (0/33)
Perform a perfect dodge! (0/99)
These were rather simple. Why was the system acting like this was some kind of top-secret method, guarded under the shrine for millennia?
Though whatever the system considered a perfect kill or perfect dodge was still something he would have to figure out along the way. For now, the stat situation was fine.
Most of his stats were well above the single digit, except for constitution and vitality. They were close behind at nine. And well…his intelligence was still bugged. It didn’t seem feasible that he could complete any of these feats before reaching class selection.
He leaned his back against the boulder, staring at the group of golems and treants in the distance. A plan slowly cooked in his head.
He assumed.
People of the greater universe were watching this thing, and he wasn’t sure how they chose someone to sponsor. But as long as he did it right, he’d attract more benefactors like .
“I just have to be cool.” He decided. Just like the Helldiver, he had to be cool to attract the fat flock of wealthy sheep towards him. He imagined himself drowning in a sea of crystals, laughing as sweat dripped down his forehead.
“Weird, why is it so hot?” He exhaled and wiped his forehead. He could feel his pulse running through his body. The heat seemed to increase every moment. And it seemed to come from behind him.
Curious, he struck his hand on the stone behind, and immediately pulled it back out of reflex. Rubbing it, he turned around, staring at the boulder that towered like a small mountain.
A sizzle rang out of the spherical boulder. As though it was boiling. Zayn felt himself laughing at his own conclusion, but then, the boulder started to shrink and retract onto itself. Slowly taking a very familiar shape—the shape of an egg.
Zayn turned around and ran without a care. [Windstrider]
Just as he suspected, something titanic blotted the sky overhead. He came to a screeching halt to prevent himself from being squished into a meat pulp.
The dune in front of him was levelled in a single move. Sand shifted and swallowed the shock. But he wasn’t spared, being too close to the impact. His bones were still rattled. He was launched back on his back and into the sand.
“That’s not how you treat your father!” Zayn spat out sand as he climbed out of the sand and pointed at the turtle. “I kept watch over you as you grew to this size, protecting you. Until you turned into a full-boiled…stone turtle. And this is how you choose to repay me?!”
He was just as surprised as the turtle, hearing what he was saying, but it seemed to be working. The turtle stopped attacking and stared at him. Its red eyes were full of confusion. ‘Was he really its dad?!’ the silly egg wondered.
He was surprisingly good at this. Was he just in the wrong career before? Maybe he could have been a con man…
“What? You think I ain’t your daddy…just cause you are bigger than me now? Did you know how hard I worked for you to grow you into this...size?”
His mouth kept spouting nonsense, but his darting gaze gave the lie away. Soon, the golems' eyes turned redder once more.
Fuck it; he wasn’t a good con man either.
Moments after, Zayn had to dodge another nuking slam. Though this time he was better prepared. The thunderous impact kicked up a storm of sand behind him like fallen dynamite. Air pressure ruffled his torn clothes but he ran like hell.
The turtle chased him in quick bursts, almost like it was trying to headbutt him. It should be another of its skills.
Thankfully, that was about it.
Getting the rhythm of the jumps and headbutts, he kept dancing on the sand, using the terrain to his advantage to hide his small frame.
The turtle roared and walked by him while bellowing in displeasure.
Zayn cursed himself internally. He could have let his mouth run a bit better, gotten himself a pet turtle, and walked boisterously all over the desert. But no, he had to ruin it all.
In his defense, Crotch goblins(or golems, in this case) were hard to deal with, and this one was the size of a house. Huffing in relief, he turned to have a look around. But then, his breath got stuck to his lungs again.
Just as he thought he was out of trouble, he found himself staring right back into it.
Somehow, he had walked right into what seemed to be a major battlefield of treants and golems. The ground was littered with broken roots and molten rock, steam rising from them. And at least three stone turtles turned to gaze at him. Their smoldering stares made his blood run cold.
He looked around.
In every direction, enemies were staring right at him. Nowhere to run away anymore. The gods must be pulling a joke on him. How was he supposed to beat these things and
Trembling, he held onto Hollowfang, his breath stuck in his throat. His skin crawled: his stomach revolted. He closed his eyes for a heartbeat, letting the terror of being seen by so many monsters drain out of his system with a single, long breath.
He still had the helmet on. Good. Safety first. Safety first.
One of the treants walked out. The axe-wielding one, saying something to the crowd, which Zayn roughly equated to
His heart squeezed and missed a beat as the monster rose atop the dune of sand. What was a captain? Like a named monster? He was going to face a named monster?
Almost twice his size, its bundle of rootlike muscles convulsed with each step it took. One of its outstretched claws extended up to its knees, while the other held a half-broken axe atop its shoulder. Stumbling towards him in a self-assured manner, it raised its axe in a challenge.
His eyes darted around for escape routes.
Just a single gap; that’s all he needed. He wasn’t going to take impossible bets. But there was no escape route left for him.
His knuckles whitened as he held the hollowfang tight, the chain on its end wrapped around his arm. He drew a forced smile and shifted into a fighting stance, “Guess I’ll just have to play above my weight class.”