The air in the cavern is heavy, thick with the dust of ages and the chilling aura of the undead. The fight has become a deadly dance. The Miner, crippled but no less dangerous, sweeps the floor with its pickaxe, denying me any approach. Each of its swings tears chips of stone from the ground, a display of brute force that reminds me how close I came to death last time.
I am no longer that frightened boy. I am a hunter. The game of Rock-Serpent-Bird taught me patience. Elric taught me to see intent. The Guardian taught me that strength is not always the answer. I circle him, my silent boots making no noise on the debris-strewn floor. I am the river flowing around the rock.
His attack pattern is simple, dictated by his rage and his injury. A wide sweep, a pause to reposition on his one good leg, then another sweep. The pause. That is my window. It is minuscule, but it exists.
I cannot attack him head-on. His pickaxe has too much reach. I must create a diversion.
I pick up a stone the size of my fist. I wait for his next sweep. The moment his pickaxe finishes its arc, I throw the stone against the wall, far to his left.
The sharp sound diverts his attention for a split second. His blue eye sockets turn toward the noise. That's all I need.
I don't run at him. I run to the wall on his right, plant my foot, and launch myself into the air, vaulting over his crawling body in a desperate acrobatic move made possible by adrenaline.
I land behind him, in his blind spot.
He senses my presence and begins to turn, but it's too late. I am already on him. My knee crashes into his spine, pinning him to the floor. My left hand grabs his jaw to keep him from moving. And my right hand, holding my dagger in a reverse grip, plunges.
I don't aim for the skull. I aim for the eye socket.
The tip of my blade sinks into the empty cavity of his left eye. I twist it, grinding the ancient bone. The blue flame within sputters and dies with a hiss of steam.
The creature is wracked by a violent spasm. Half of its strength seems to abandon it. The pickaxe falls from its hand with a dull thud.
But it is not dead. The remaining flame in its right eye now burns with a redoubled fury. It thrashes with a wild energy, trying to throw me off.
I hold on, fighting to maintain my position. I pull out my dagger and aim for the other eye socket. He turns his head, offering me the smooth metal of his skull. My blade slides off, scraping the bone without penetrating.
I won't get another chance.
I drop my dagger. I use the same technique as before. I thrust my thumb into the remaining eye socket.
A direct contact. The icy energy of the spectral flame fights against my own. It is a battle of pure will. I pour all my concentration, all my hatred, all my hunger into this single point of contact.
I feel my own life force being drained, burned by the unnatural cold.
HP: 48/55 → 40/55 → 32/55
But I also feel that I am winning. The flame flickers, weakens.
With a final, silent scream of rage that echoes in my mind, the last light goes out.
The body of the Undead Miner suddenly goes limp, all its strength leaving it. The glow that animated its bones fades. It returns to what it was: a simple pile of ancient bones.
The silence that settles is absolute.
You have defeated [Undead Miner]!
500 XP
Experience: 455/600 → 955/600
EXPERIENCE SUFFICIENT. YOU HAVE REACHED LEVEL 6!
The wave of power washes over me, healing my wounds, chasing away the fatigue. The warmth of the level-up is a welcome contrast to the cold of death I have just touched.
Name: Reinhardt Valdios
Level: 6
Experience: 155/800
Status: Normal
HP: 65/65
MP: 30/30
Unallocated Stat Points: 5
I remain on my knees on the pile of bones, short of breath. I won. I faced the monster that terrified me and I defeated it, not with brute force, but with strategy and will.
My gaze falls on the sack of Soul Ore, a few feet away. That is my reward. The catalyst for my evolution.
But there is something else. The Miner's body. Its essence is different from that of the beasts. It is ancient, imbued with centuries of solitary labor and dark magic. It is a source of power I cannot ignore.
I place my hand on the skeleton's skull.
"Forgive me," I whisper. "Your duty is done. Let me inherit your perseverance."
I activate my skill. I devour.
The influx of energy is cold and powerful. It is like swallowing liquid stone. I do not absorb memories, for it had none. I do not absorb combat skills. I absorb something else. Its very nature. Its resilience. Its connection to the earth and stone.
You have devoured the essence of [Undead Miner].
Your body is adapting to the non-living energy.
Your constitution has been strengthened.
You have acquired a new passive skill:
[Stone Skin (Lvl. 1)]: Your skin gains an abnormal resistance. Slightly increases your physical Defense and impact resistance.
A defensive skill. It's the first I've obtained. It shores up one of my greatest weaknesses.
When the absorption is complete, all that remains of the Miner is a thin layer of gray dust on the floor. His long service is finally over.
I stand up, feeling more solid, more grounded. I pick up the heavy sack of ore. It's more than what I stole last time. It is enough.
I look at the vein in the wall. The Miner's work is unfinished. There are still veins of pale blue glowing in the black rock.
I retrieve his pickaxe. It is heavy, but manageable. Out of curiosity, I strike the vein. The rock shatters, revealing another fragment of Soul Ore.
An idea forms in my mind. The ruins, the library, the codex... they gave me knowledge. The Miner gave me the catalyst and a new defense. But power doesn't just come from what you take. It also comes from what you do.
I am not just a hunter. I am also a gatherer. A miner.
I spend the next hour methodically extracting all the accessible ore from the vein. It is grueling work, but my new Level 6 strength and improved constitution allow me to keep up the pace.
When I am done, my sack is filled to the brim. I have everything I need for the ritual.
I leave the cavern, leaving behind the silence and the dust of a being that toiled for centuries. I do not feel like a desecrator. I feel like an heir.
I return to my inn room in Kryndal, the heavy sack concealed under a cloak I bought. I cannot perform the ritual here. It's too risky. I need a secluded, safe place. A place where no one will disturb me.
My training cavern in the sewers. That is where my new life began. That is where it will evolve.
The sun rises over Kryndal. For the inhabitants, it is just another day. For me, it is the beginning of my true birth. Tonight, I will face the monster inside me. And only one of us will come out alive.