Dark: Fearless Pioneer (Dark LitRPG book 1)

by Arthur Stone

  The info box directly told him that only primitive-level items would come of even the best crafting attempts. But that was good news: Dark didn’t expect his level to incur any penalties using those items. In the very worst case, he’d get penalties, but they would be small.

  Soon he started losing the stones he was collecting, and this forced him to make another hiding spot. It was this that made him curse how miserly the game was. Couldn’t he just get a progress point? Was that too much to ask? Everything valuable had to be hidden in these caches.

  Of course he would remember that, too.

  Dark had dug two more buried treasure sites by the time he reached a bend in the river. This must be the horseshoe bend I saw yesterday, from the cliff.

  He couldn’t see the beaver dam, though. It had been pretty big, and he guessed a whole pack of beavers had worked on it. That moment, one of them stuck its face out of the water, glaring at Dark. It was the largest animal he had seen so far, besides the Spider. The river rats were rather small. Dark wondered what level it was. His experience told him he had to get about five steps closer in order to see its information panel.

  This he did without hesitating. But the beaver’s expression grew more and more hostile as he approached. At last, when he was about ten yards away, the creature charged with an embarrassingly terrifying squeal. It surged out of the water and attacked without delay, scratching Dark’s shin.

  “Augh!” the man screamed in pain, slamming the beaver on the head with the flint rock he held, as powerfully as he could.

  You deal 1 damage to Beaver.

  Beaver deals 9 damage to you.

  Dark didn’t have much time for math, but it was clear that nearing the dam had been a tragic mistake. Beavers were ugly beasts up close. They were nature’s rednecks, intolerant of strangers near their homes.

  Dark turned to run as fast as he could.

  Beaver deals you 14 damage. Hint: do not let your opponent get behind you, or he’ll be able to deal you more damage.

  “Leave me alone, you beast! I was just walking by!” Dark screamed as he tried, in vain, to increase speed.

  He ran like his body was encased in lead. So worthless was his character that he doubted he could catch up to a pregnant snail.

  Beaver deals you 17 damage.

  Dark’s dive to the side tricked the mob’s primitive Intellect and gained him a few steps. He pushed away from the shore, trying to push through bushes filled with thorns and turn them as best he could into unpredictable obstacles to hold back his pursuer. It worked. The frequency of the bites and the fresh wounds on his legs decreased sharply, and from time to time, the beaver let out an annoyed squeal. The pain subsided, and the beast started lagging a few yards behind, unable to close the distance.

  Then the bushes thinned quickly down to nothing. Dark emerged into a strange location with no hints of vegetation. The earth began to sag underneath him, as if it had been dug up and loosely replaced, and here and there he ran around what looked like miniature volcanoes made of black slag. He immediately remembered that bald patch he had seen from atop the cliff. Why had the beaver’s squealing stopped?

  He turned to see the beast’s flat tail raised high, between the bushes, as the beaver scurried in the other direction as quickly as possible. Dark relaxed. It was hardly a victory, but he had avoided being killed by some crazy beaver.

  Something fluid shot up from out of one of the cones, and his chest exploded with pain. Dark saw a black whip, like the tail of a scorpion but abnormally thin, appear out of nowhere and stab at his heart. It was segmented and hooked, too, like a scorpion’s.

  It stabbed at him, and his vision went as black as its tail.

  Chitin Hunter deals you 143 damage.

  You have died.

  Note: Last respawn point selected. You have entered the Central Wastes of Ethria. This is the edge of the world, a place watered with the tears of hopes long lost and dreams long dashed, a cemetery of races long forgotten, or which were never known in the first place.

  10 seconds to resurrection. 9...

  * * *

  Dark crouched in the shadows by the “phallus” and reflexively reached for his chest with a grimace as he read the combat log. 143 damage, dealt by a creature he had been unable to get a decent look at. A significant amount, but not a fatal blow. His character’s total life was 175. So, he could have survived the blow if not for that damned beaver.

  Of course, Dark would have not survived the follow-up strike. Still, he was glad to discover this creature was not as omnipotent as it had seemed. The beaver had wisely retreated, declining to so much as step on the black earth. The mobs did have some self-preservation instinct, Dark’s experience with the skeleton notwithstanding.

  It followed that the beaver was much weaker than this chitin creature. As the difference in their levels indicated.

  That got Dark thinking. He was devising a way to dispatch the dam builder.

  Which meant returning to the river. At this pace, there’d be a decent trail running through the bushes to the coast. Walking did level up his skills a little. Especially if he was carrying something heavy. So he started collecting heavier branches he found along the way. And the farther away he was from the cliff, the fewer branches there were to be found. Dying had a silver lining.

  Chapter 18

  Master of None

  Total stat levels: 5

  Character level: 0

  Mastery level: 0

  You failed to create a random item.

  The rock shattered into small pieces, like all of those before it. Dark winced as he surveyed the carnage. Now all of the hiding places he had created along the riverbank were empty, and for nothing. His flint was getting chipped away, too. Either he was just doing something wrong, or crafting a random item would take a lot more walking up and down the river to find suitable stones.

  He placed another rock atop the flat boulder and hit it with the best piece of flint he had. This time, the rock didn’t shatter—the flint did. It was tired of the pounding.

  You have created an item: Flint Hand Ax. +5 progress points received.

  Progress points distributed.

  +3 Random Items progress points.

  +2 Unspecialized Items progress points.

  Note: This is the first useful item you have created. You get a bonus +1 to any craft skill and +1 to any base skill.

  That was good news. Crafting could boost not only craft skills but also base skills. Of course, the game sent avalanches of low-level bonuses at newbies, and Dark knew that these would dry up as gameplay continued. But in his situation, every single point was cause for rejoicing. He would be saving them up for a very long time.

  A hand ax had two uses. Killing and crafting. Despite his plans for the beaver, Dark actually wanted this for the latter use.

  He frowned as he chewed some frog legs. Drying them in the sun had not improved their taste as he had hoped. Perhaps he could cook them. He couldn’t find any flint on the skeleton. But he didn’t expect that would be a problem.

  Rejecting the idea of experimenting with fire, he pressed on with his plan. Stabbing a stick he had found along the way into the ground, he began working on it with his hand ax.

  It broke within seconds.

  As predicted. He doubted the game would ever let a newbie like him achieve something on the first try.

  Without paying real money, that was. After all, the devs had to earn their pay somehow.

  Luck came through for him on the fourth attempt.

  You have created an item: Primitive Wooden Spear. +6 progress points received.

  Progress points distributed.

  +3 Random Items progress points.

  +2 Woodworking progress points.

  +1 Bows, Spears, Crossbows, etc. progress point.

  It didn’t look much like a spear, to be honest. Quite a few upgrades would be needed just for it to earn the title of “sharpened stick.” But the game thought otherwise.

&
nbsp; Dark was happy at the description of the weapon.

  A primitive wooden spear. Class: none. A wooden branch of mediocre quality crudely sharpened with a primitive tool. Can be used as a melee or ranged weapon. Durability: 2/2. Base damage: 3 x (1 + Strength). Current damage: 3 x (1 + Strength). Minimum level: none. Estimated value: even a novice who stepped into the world of X a few seconds ago would decline this miserable weapon. There are always better options. However, an armful of these could be sold as firewood for a couple of coins, in areas where firewood is scarce.

  The weapon he had created was worthless enough that it had no minimum level requirement. That was exactly what Dark wanted.

  This spear dealt 3 damage, whereas stones only dealt 1. That was all that mattered with Dark’s Strength of 0. He had tripled his attack power.

  How much had that beaver dealt him? 9, when he was facing it. Dark had been hitting it for a measly 1. Now, he’d hit for 3. Still, he’d fall quickly behind.

  How many hit points did the beaver have? Dark couldn’t say. Most of the fight had taken place while he had his back to the enemy. Not that the beast’s hit points had been visible anyway. Even if the beaver’s health was a third of his, the fight could end in a draw, or he might even barely lose. And that was the best case. The pain the fight caused him along the way would affect how well he fought. Fighting well required thinking well, and it wasn’t easy to think well when an overgrown rat was nibbling at your shins.

  If the mobs did feel pain, it affected them differently. It didn’t seem to interfere with their attacks. And Dark had to keep in mind that he might suffer shock if the beaver scored a good hit.

  He could try making a better spear. Or tying a flint blade onto a stick. A primitive ax like that would have to inflict more damage, right?

  No, this kind of obvious logic was not always the way to think.

  Come on, Dark, you’re an experienced fighter. You’ve fought all kinds of opponents, in all kinds of conditions, with all kinds of weapons. The organizers may have been angels compared to the Spider, but they were still bastards. One time, he had fought on a rocking ice floe in a virtual Arctic Ocean with twelve opponents in a free-for-all, along with four unpredictable charging polar bears who were as likely to attack each other as the human participants. Another time, he had been equipped with a sawed-off single-barrel shotgun and worn one of those large bandages on his head and a hoop with jingling bells. Every time he shot, they rang loudly.

  That last situation doesn’t exactly apply here.

  But maybe some others do. Think, Dark, think!

  * * *

  Prior to the advent of synthetic fabrics, man had been forced to make clothing exclusively out of organic materials. After the most primitive era, when poorly cured skins had been standard garb, the main materials for this production had been animal wool and plant products. Nettle, flax, cotton, hemp, and more.

  Most plants contained fibers that could be used, though they all varied in quality and workability.

  Dark had been unable to find something suitable. All of the vegetation here was poor, and in many places, there was no vegetation at all. It seemed some black poison had sprayed across the land, causing these bald spots throughout. The algae in the river looked healthy, but they could hardly be made into clothing.

  Dark was beginning to conclude that this game was not as realistic as he had first thought, but then something fortunate happened. He found what he was seeking in the bushes, where he least expected to find it. The thin, knotted branches, nearly stripped of leaves, looked lifeless.

  But they were too flexible to be dead. Fibers ran underneath the thin bark of the branches. They could be easily peeled apart but were difficult to tear.

  Dark harvested one branch after another. Then he crushed and twisted the fibers into bundles and braided them.

  It took him hours, until evening was nearly upon him, until at last he was done.

  Twilight was fading as the message appeared.

  You have created an item: Net with Stone Weights. +9 progress points received.

  Progress points distributed.

  +5 Random Items progress points.

  +3 Unspecialized Items progress points.

  +1 Woodworking progress point.

  You have leveled up your Random Items skill to 1. This is your first craft skill level. Bonus +1 to any craft skill.

  The net was so ugly that Dark was for once glad he was alone. No one could laugh at him. The description of the net was about as insulting as he imagined other players would be. It even said that “most fish will be far too smart to fall for this trap.”

  But he had no intention of catching a fish with it.

  * * *

  Chitin Hunter deals you 124 damage.

  Dark woke and screamed as unbearable pain sliced through his shoulder. He instinctively tried to roll. But before he had taken even half a turn, his liver was sliced open and a second scream sent him into the familiar black.

  Chitin Hunter deals you 131 damage.

  You have died.

  Note: Last respawn point selected. You have entered the Central Wastes of Ethria. This is the edge of the world, a place watered with the tears of hopes long lost and dreams long dashed, a cemetery of races long forgotten, or which were never known in the first place.

  10 seconds to resurrection. 9...

  When he came to, he leaned back against the indecently-shaped rock and recovered his breath, then listened to the sounds around him. Crickets chirped, an owl hooted, and small creatures rustled about in the bushes and grass. There was no evidence of more Chitin Hunters. Last night, Dark had been able to sleep here without being executed.

  And during the daylight, he had only ever encountered one, in that black patch during his flight from the beaver. Perhaps they only left their black patches to hunt when the sun was down. And perhaps they mostly hunted along the river, or even exclusively, and never came to the cliff area.

  If so, it made sense to set up camp by his respawn point and only travel to the water when he needed to hunt and gather raw materials. That would cost him a lot of time, but it would save him many deaths. As long as he didn’t set up directly at the rock, or a death loop like the one caused by the skeleton might occur again.

  For now, he had to sleep. He’d decide in the morning.

  This was a game, sure, but a man needed his sleep.

  Chapter 19

  Pelting

  Total stat levels: 5

  Character level: 0

  Mastery level: 0

  Dark had thankfully stashed everything of value except his loincloth in a cache before he had laid down for the night, and he recovered it all. He doubted the Chitin Hunters were after his rudimentary spear and net, but he was better safe than sorry. No sense wasting more time re-making everything.

  But he winced when he saw his finished net in the light for the first time. It was too rigid. He tossed it into the river, hoping that giving it a soak would help, and set off to hunt more frogs. During his prowl he saw a small turtle, out of reach.

  Retrieving the net and finding it ready for battle, he set off back down the bend to meet that damned beaver.

  Both the beaver and his handiwork were still in the river. Dark could swear its tail was making particularly miserable movements today. It was still sour about failing to finish him off the day before.

  About twenty paces from his toothed adversary, the man stopped and sat to check the basic protection he had constructed for his legs: bark stripped from young trees, wrapped around his shins, and tied down with more of the material he had used to make his net. The game did not consider this bona fide armor, but it had hinted it would give him at least a little protection.

  Dark stuck both of his spears into the sand and hurled a rock. He wanted to annoy the beaver and provoke it to attack him here on the shore, where the ground was free of debris from the dam area. But what happened was better: He hit the beast right in between the eyes.

  Y
ou deal a critical hit to Beaver! 2 damage dealt. Beaver is stunned.

  A great start to the battle. Rather than charging the man with a riot of aggravating squeals, the beast shook its head, one eye staring at the sky and the other at the ground. But when Dark’s second stone hit the dam right by its feet, the animal came to its senses.

  Then it rushed, just as it had the day before: squealing and kicking up spray. Dark picked up one spear with his right hand as he raised his left and slammed the net down, forcing the stones woven into it around its edges down into the sand. So far, his throw had only worked in practice, on imaginary opponents. How well it would function in a real fight remained to be seen.

  The result was ugly and failed to properly ensnare the beast as it had when wielded by the gladiators of old. It was, after all, a cross between a net and a basket. But it did cover the beaver, tail and all. Dark pulled the loop he had fashioned, tightening the net around the bottom and tripping up the beast by its paws. The creature tripped and rolled onto its side, exposing its soft belly.

  That’s where he struck with spear.

  You deal 4 damage to Beaver.

  Not an impressive number, but better than 3. The game clearly considered the beaver’s belly as a weak spot. Dark struck again, and again. Now the beaver began to squirm, attempting to flip over, but Dark pulled again with his left hand, exposing its belly again. Not that it was easy: the creature had the strength of an oversized dog. Another hit to the game’s realism. A creature of that size would never be so strong in the real world.

  After taking many hits, the AI that controlled the mob finally chose a new tactic. It ceased its struggle and began chewing on the net, shredding it with its powerful teeth.