Chapter 16: Never enough rope

Chapter 16: Never enough rope

It smelled almost like an electrical fire back at the pool. Mason snuck along the wall in confusion, looking up to see the robed creature was gone from the platform. Then he turned and saw a blue light beyond the pool. It flew in a blink, straight across the water, directly at Mason.

He threw himself back as it struck.

[Apex Predator activated. Affinity changed to elemental.]

The air sizzled and rang with a high pitched whine. Mason screamed but hardly heard himself over the deafening roar of thunder that echoed down the hall. He felt wetness leak from his ears and sound became only an endless ring, his eyes blurry and trying desperately to close against some kind of pressure. He scrambled away on hands and knees until he’d regained some semblance of control.

“What.” He heard his voice in a dull muffle. “The hell. Was that.”

[Tutorial query: Arcane invocation. Lightning Bolt.]

Yeah. That sounded about right. Other than his senses being half fried, it seemed the bolt hadn’t really harmed him. He expected this might have been due to Apex Predator’s effect, and though he wasn’t sure whether it had completely saved him, or just reduced his damage, he was pretty damn happy it worked.

This time he scanned everywhere across the pool when he stepped into the cavern, and not just the platforms. Seeing nothing, he raced down the wall to his right, bow ready to shoot. The huge, pregnant gnoll hadn’t so much as moved, and perhaps couldn’t. She lay asleep or unconscious, her breathing ragged, body shuddering. Mason expected the robed gnoll wouldn’t entirely abandon her, and therefore wouldn’t have gone far. But either way he decided now was the best chance to end the miserable creature.

It felt slightly...off-putting, killing a helpless, pregnant creature. But Mason was a hunter, and no stranger to the brutality of nature. Predator’s almost always targeted the weak. And it was this ‘helpless’ creature that was likely empowering an endless stream of gnolls killing anything near its lair. It had to be destroyed.

Mason drew his sword, aimed for the throat, and slashed.

[Gnoll Broodmother killed. Experience earned.]

Roars and barks emerged from beyond the pool. Then the scraping of claws on wood and stone...

Mason leapt off the platform, and ran.

* * *

“How does Trapmaking work?”

[Tutorial query: rangers have considerable control over trap type, trap target, and trap removal, but only in natural settings. Traps improve with level and power, but initially are limited, and only usable two at a time.]

Mason snorted, expecting he could ask about every other power the same way. Ultimately, he decided Trap Making was worth the risk and still the right choice. He selected the power and stepped back to inspect the many corpses he’d made for anything useful. The flint knife that had cut his cheek had broken on the wall, and the wooden spear looked ready to snap. Other than that, they had nothing but claws. Finally he activated his new power, then blinked as the room lit with possibility. The power seemed to indicate to him if and how he might apply his traps to the terrain all around him, and he grinned at the incredible wealth of information. It was as if ghostly traps formed all over the floor and roof, with little indicators that seemed to suggest the basic function of snare, spikes, and several others. It seemed Mason didn’t have to build anything himself—he just chose the location and the trap, and the magic did the rest. Yeah, his hands sweat with excitement, that would do. That would do just fine.

When he’d recovered some strength he at last crossed the pond at the only bridge and crept towards the unexplored territory. With some surprise, he soon found the robed gnoll lying on the ground, his staff laying beside him. His fur was blackened, his face shrunk and burned, and Mason decided somehow he’d killed himself with his own spell. The staff looked fine, though, and he picked it up.

[Tutorial information: you have found a Four-Claw Shaman Staff. You lack the ability to identify it outside the tutorial. In the hands of a caster with natural affinity, this staff can be used to channel mana into elemental power.]

Elemental power, huh. Like, say, an ear shattering, god damn lightning bolt, as one random example? Mason realized by the description he should theoretically be able to use it, that is if his class ever gave him mana. Whatever the hell mana was.

[Tutorial query: mana is a primary means of powering spell casting. It regenerates slowly over time, but can be recovered by various other means.]

Right. Well, Mason was pretty sure he didn’t do that. At least not yet. But the staff seemed valuable and he couldn’t bring himself to just leave it. He also had to consider Blake. His brother wasn’t exactly a bare-knuckle brawling athlete, so it seemed likely he’d chosen some kind of spellcasting or otherwise mental-oriented class. In this new world of magic it seemed almost certain he’d chosen to be something like Merlin, or whatever wizard was played by that Ian McKellan guy. So yeah, a magic staff was likely right up his alley. Now how to carry the damn thing...

Mason ended up lashing it to his back with cut vines. While he was at it, he rolled as much of the stuff as he could into a clump and lashed that to himself, too. One thing you could never have enough of in the apocalypse was rope.

Then he was back across the pond, crappy bow and goblin dagger in hand. He still didn’t know if the gnolls could easily smell him or see in the dark, but he re-applied a layer of mud and muck from the edge of the pool. It stunk, and God only knew what was in it, but Mason would take any advantage he could get.

This dungeon seemed to be getting progressively more dangerous. The weaker creatures had been outside, slightly harder at the front, the elites and giants and shaman beyond the rooms. What did that mean for the end? Mason took a deep breath and looked down the different pathways leading further, finding mostly empty rooms that seemed like living quarters. Most of their occupants were likely dead in the vine room.

He was reminded that as he’d entered the thing recommended two to four people, and fought the nagging thought that the final challenges may be impossible alone. But since he literally had seen no one save for the almost immediately dead players at the tutorial entrance, he really didn’t see what he was supposed to do about that. And as with much of Mason’s early life, it didn’t help to complain at the unfairness. He just carried on.

Besides—his luck had changed when he met Blake. From a broken home with nothing to a person who’d never leave him, no matter what. He knew he should be thinking only of survival and saving his brother, and he was. But he had to admit, he was also kind of...excited, to go further, to see what happened next.

For the first time in Mason’s life he felt he was exactly suited to the world. And he wanted to know how far he could go.

Author note: Y'all can thank for the extra chapter today!