by Ryan DeBruyn
I land facedown, and somehow the g-force or my own surprise opened my mouth. The mouthful of grass and soil is reminiscent of the tonic Mur fed me. The reminder of my friend recalls his injured condition. I spring to my feet, favoring my uninjured left foot, looking for him and keeping an eye on the enemy. Mur is getting to his feet and once I confirm he is alive I transfer my full attention back to the rabbit. It’s turning again, and this time I keep my distance. I need to have a bit more space to dodge its attack. Then, once it’s passed, I can counter.
My right leg, which took the majority of the charge, is still in agony. However, my back is the bent nail of the two, screaming its unhappiness with its abuse. I am about to circulate more qi to the areas when I realize that there is Sun qi already right beside the injuries. The two hundred drops are spread through my arteries. Unfortunately, bypassing the still-clogged arterioles and capillaries loses some of the qi. Yet it’s still far less than a mass push from my Dantian would have cost me. Instantly, the qi clamps down on the pain and at least allows me to move freely as it begins seeping into the bones and muscles to heal.
The telltale bunching of the Leporid’s hind legs gives me enough warning that I can move to the side of the beast. It can adjust its course by maybe a foot, but it’s not enough. It careens by me. I shoot out my spearhead, perforating its skin multiple times as the steel skips in and out of the creature’s flesh. The damage is minimal, but using this strategy I can probably whittle it down!
The beast begins sliding to a stop again, but suddenly Mur leaps onto its back and attacks its head with a massive downward blow from his club. He is holding the weapon with one hand; his other arm hangs limply by his side, bloody and broken. The screech from the Leporid tells me Mur hit something soft, and the creature sends him flying a moment later when it bucks in pain.
Mur spins his good arm as he tries to somehow land without injury. The maneuver proves impossible, and I hear a grunt of expelled air and a bit of a crunch when he lands. I’m moving before I can think it through. The Leporid is turning in unison with my movement, and I notice one of its eyes is leaking a white fluid and closed tight. By the Seven, no! I realize that it’s going to target Mur, as my minimal damage is nothing compared to the goblin’s one mighty blow.
I pump liquid into my limbs, as much as they can hold, and even feel them vibrate their protest, but ignore it. Mur needs help. I haven’t even seen movement yet from the long grass where he fell. I move my spear to my right hip in a horizontal hold, and I lunge forward just as the Leporid springs toward what must be Mur.
The spear head hits first and blasts through the flesh of the rabbit’s front leg for about six inches before it hits something hard. I feel the moment the shaft of my spear slips through my hands, the force of my entire body and the counterforce of the Leporid bone too much for my grip. My lunge becomes an unintentional shoulder check. My leading left shoulder pushes back into my body, and I feel the impact squeeze my muscles, heart, and lungs as all the air is ejected from my body. The force of the blow shifts the Leporid’s leap, and it shoots off on a new trajectory.
The spear slides the other way out of my hands, and I lose the weapon as the Leporid body jolts off. Two of its paws hit the ground first, and I watch them try to gain purchase before tilting over and depositing the Leporid on its side. My landing isn’t smooth either but not because of poor footing. My chest feels like a shaken water bottle. It’s hard to breathe, my heart is thumping in strange patterns, and my left shoulder feels like it’s sitting inside my lungs. It’s almost like the left side of my body ends a few inches before it should . . . compacted inward by the unintentional blow.
I flood qi into that area of my body, not with a purpose in mind other than to stop the agonizing sensations. I pull out two Tupperware flasks of soup into my now empty hands and scan the area. Mur stands up and crumples back to the ground a few feet from me, the movement catching my eye. I sigh in relief but the use of my lungs brings a sharp pain.
“Mur, catch,” I call over in Gartuski and throw a Tupperware flask at him. I watch him try and fail to catch it, and I notice the green blood on his scalp. He must have landed headfirst. . . I drink my own flask and even pull out another for myself before checking on the Leporid. It is trying to roll to its feet but my spear is stopping it from accomplishing that—for now.
I drink my second flask and study Mur before tossing him another. My tribesman looks pretty bad, and I’m without a weapon. Should we retreat? No, I can’t afford to lose that spear. I rush to Mur’s side and find his club nearby.
“Stay here. Heal,” I say as I charge toward the rabbit, who has finally rolled over entirely and gotten to its feet on the other side. This club is not an effective weapon near the creature’s head. I’ve seen that. But what about its hindquarters or sides?
With as much qi still flooding my body as I can hold, I bring the club down on the Leporid’s back leg. The blow is on the same side of its body that my spear still juts from, and I’m hoping more damage to that side will take it entirely out of the fight. The club lands with a crunch, and I watch the flesh ripple from the impact point as something under the skin collapses from the blow. The loud popping snap tells me I’ve either broken a bone or dislocated something.
The Leporid attempts to lift that leg and place more pressure on the front limb, but my spear prevents that from being a viable option. As it crumples thanks to the damage, I watch the creature’s back fall toward me and jump back with qi-assisted agility, avoiding it by a few inches.
I raise the club above my head again and bring it down on the creature’s chest, crunching through ribs and crushing vital organs. The Leporid doesn’t even manage a squeak as I end the fight. I take in the deepest breath of air I can manage and reach out a hand to put the corpse into my subspace. It doesn’t go immediately, which tells me it’s still clinging to life. I retrieve my spear and puncture its skull through the bad eye. The corpse vanishes after that, and I sigh.
Mur and I really need to talk strategy. Charging at a beast like this could have killed him and me . . . I assess my own damage. My left shoulder is likely dislocated, my ribs all along that side hurt, my back aches, and my shin is already bruising. My final assessment: I’m heavily injured.
My qi, which had been around two hundred drops before the battle, has me cringing, too. Only one hundred and two drops of the precious liquid remain. Still, that fight would have been impossible if I didn’t use it. I probably boosted myself into the physical E-ranks there. Or close to it. I let the qi in my muscles burn away, and because of the lowest concentration being in my legs, I expect to feel it deplete there first.
I feel it, all right. It starts as a slow ache that quickly ramps into a dull roar—and then into the feeling of being beaten by a cudgel. Then it goes further, and I can only imagine this is what being skinned alive feels like. I bite my lip to stop a scream of pain and sit down right where I am. What did I do? I dive into myself as I send qi to dull the pain. There are microtears in almost all of my muscles and varying levels of fractures in many bones. Not to mention my shoulder, ribs, and shin. Those bones have taken the worst.
The reason for all the smaller injuries hits me. I essentially just poured upwards of ninety points of qi into my body at the F rank with a Dantian limit of fourteen. Yeah, it isn’t like this sort of thing doesn’t happen to others as they grow and infuse. But by following the Church’s method, cultivators wouldn’t find over ten times the normal amount of qi within their body.
“I’m officially an idiot, but on the positive side, I can now repair the damage using Jade Bones and Iron Muscles,” I mumble to myself. I have to admit that is one of the luckiest goof-ups I’ve ever made. It’s almost like the prerequisite to learning the skills makes the chance of it happening far higher.
After I am positive I have blocked all the pain and started the healing process, I turn to Mur. The goblin is looking even greener than usual, and I bark, “Mur help Jeff with shoulder.”
/>
Mur comes over and, after some direction, yanks on my shoulder—hard. I bite down and keep my mouth closed but a muted whimpering scream still escapes. I flood even more qi to the area. To have used a hundred drops of qi to beat a single Leporid means we aren’t going any farther. Especially with Mur still recovering as well.
“Jeff think that enough for today. We try for more tomorrow?”
“Only because Jeff want to,” he responds but tries to act tough by growling at the dungeon entrance.
Together we walk back in the house’s direction, and I can’t help the slow shakes of my head at Mur’s posturing.
Chapter 31
September 3rd, 151 AR
Jeff Turle
The next morning arrives, and upon waking, I find my stores of qi nearly empty, thanks in large part to my over-flooding of qi to injuries the previous night. Despite wanting to roll over and return to bed, I realize I must spend a few hours in the Suburb cultivating to regain the qi I’ve lost. Only forty-five drops of it circulate in my entire body, including the fourteen in my Dantian plus the nine in the arteries and arterioles around it. The healing of my injuries last night was extremely intensive and even now I can feel a bit of soreness bordering on pain. So I throw one leg over the side of my cot and onto the cold concrete floor.
My first stop is a shower, and I carefully walk my way to it, hoping the heat will take away the leftover muscle soreness. Still, even the shower needs to be cut short because of my busy day. Why does it seem that my days are getting shorter? Looking in the mirror, I find a large increase in my physical stat bars, but am slightly disappointed. . .
*Status*
Overall rank: F-2
Free points: 4
Free Physical points: 1
Free Mind points: 0
Status Effects: Chef’s Physical Boost [Green] (26 Hours remaining), Well Fed (20 Hours remaining), Fetid Odor [Yellow] (2 Hours remaining), Training Room [Purple]
Total Bitcoins – 4
Physical Stats – Chef’s Physical Boost +1 [Green]
Strength – F-1 {9 / 10}
Speed – F-1 {9 / 10}
Endurance – F-2 {6 / 10}
Mind Stats
Capacity – F-1{4 / 10}
Synapse – F-2 {4 / 10}
Recovery – F-1 {3 / 10}
Spells & Skills:
Gartusk Language – F-4
Iron Muscles – F-2
Jade Bones – F-2
Sea of Qi Size – F-4
Current Fill: 14 / 14
“Okay!” I grumble, trying and failing to inject a bit of cheerfulness into my morning. I try again . . . My overall rank is now F-2, which is a step in the right direction, even if no true increases have been made. At first glance, the decreased remaining time on the Fetid Odor status effect seems like a good thing, but in actuality, that is another sign of my extreme decline in circulating qi. My main disappointment is from my physical stats not making a minor rank increase. They are right on the cusp and I debate about throwing points into them.
I choose the compromise and throw my single free physical point in, choosing to save the free points for Mind stats later. I decide on Strength for the placement and close my eyes as a pleasant sensation seeps through my body from head to toe. I feel each muscle seem to elongate for a moment and then vibrate like a plucked string as they firm back up.
“Nice!” I exclaim as I feel the sensation remove the final bit of soreness from the previous night.
My excitement is brought up a bit short when I catch a faint swampy odor in the air. Towers help me, I just showered! I hate to admit it, but a major factor in my waking up quickly this morning was also my stench. I’d even taken a shower before bed! This Fetid Odor debuff is quickly starting to bother me. I guess I’m lucky the training room cots seem to clean themselves—or maybe that’s Crash. But either way, I am not looking forward to the month it takes for my body to cleanse. Perhaps the smell is the reason no one else uses this method? The two-hundred-plus drops of qi I can hold this way far outweighs what the standard F-rankers can manage, though. And I tell myself that power at the cost of hygiene isn’t a bad trade. . .
Sheltered as I was, I grew up not believing Leah that the Church was wrong. I had to believe that she was, in fact, wrong and that the Church understood the proper way of cultivating. Now, I wonder how many people out there don’t follow the Church’s prescribed methods. The Church’s way is faster, and that might be all it takes to convince people. That and the general disgust people have for F-rank individuals. It’s so strong that it alone could likely rush people out of the starting rank. And yet, I am now more convinced than ever that the lower ranks are what build the base for later. I have no experience in building houses, but I have seen plenty of fallen ones. I don’t think it’s a good idea to rush the foundation so you can put a roof on it. The houses that did so seem to be the ones in the worst shape all these years later. The ones built properly are still standing . . . kind of. Reminiscing about my childhood, I recognize a single redeeming point now. Leah prevented that particular cultivation catastrophe with me.
I shake off thoughts of my past and the woman, and pull up the information on my new skills.
Iron Muscles [Gray]
All damaged muscles will be reinforced using qi. The more damage your muscles sustain, the more qi will infuse into them. This skill will increase your body’s natural defense and strength, but can significantly decrease your speed if abused.
Rank: F-2
----
Jade Bones [Gray]
All damaged bones will be reinforced using qi. The more damage your bones sustain, the more qi will infuse into them. This skill will increase the strength of your skeletal system, which in turn will allow your body to be put under far greater strain, but abuse of this skill can lead to inflexible and rigid motions.
Rank: F-2
I fixate on the abuse warning of each skill and realize that, as powerful as these skills can be, they still have long-term downsides if I can’t counter them. But how do I do that?
As I begin contemplating the issue, my feet take me to the kitchen to cook breakfast. Would another skill balance the first two? Or would stretching every day be enough? Both problems seem to be due to the body stiffening up with the increase of strength and durability, so stretching may counteract both.
I put the eggs, Leporid meat, and toast on a plate and then sit down. Both stretching and another skill can’t hurt, right? That thought decides it. I will stretch before my workout today and after, but also look through Barclay’s cultivation journal—maybe there is something there.
Mur predictably walks into the kitchen, and I can’t help but chuckle. It seems like there isn’t a better alarm for my tribesman than food. He appears to be healthy again after last night’s fight, and I study him a bit further. It would definitely be helpful to teach him the techniques, but a glaring problem exists. Currently, we have no access to moonlight or sunlight for him. That being said, his physical strength increases automatically as his Dantian grows.
“Crash, are you there?” I ask the air, noting the AI’s strange absence.
“Yes, Master. Since you are eating eggs, toast, and Leporid bacon again, we felt we would be of better service elsewhere.” Crash materializes and stares at my plate with scorn. After making its distaste of my breakfast choice clear, it continues. “We were scanning the auction house. The arming sword only contained twelve ounces of mithril.”
“Good morning to you too, Crash,” I say with a sigh toward the blue annoyance; it’s too early for Crash’s attitude. “Look, I have some questions for you. First, would goblins benefit from my two new skills?”
“All skills are useful, Master,” it responds, unhelpfully. I just stare at Crash before realizing it isn’t going to expand on that without prompting.
“What I mean is, would evolutionary races like goblins who automatically increase their physical stats on rank-ups benefit from physical skills?” I clari
fy pointedly.
“Yes, Master, but to a far lesser degree than other races.”
Breathe. I suck in a deep lungful of air through my nose while closing my eyes. That answer is good enough and means I can probably leave off teaching them to Mur until after we move. I look over to the green goblin in question and see him stuffing food into his mouth with abandon.
“Mur, how goblin rank up?” I ask in Gartuski, realizing that Crash is not my best source of information. The Gartuski language seems to almost have been designed to allow conversation despite a mouth full of food. Or a plate blocking a face.
“Eating. Gartusk absorb Bloodfire from creature. Fill Ancestral Boon.” I blink at the new terms but assume that like qi and liquid or Dantian and God Organ, they are just the Gartusk names for the same.
“What about sun and moon?” I ask curiously.
“Only most desperate, weak goblin absorb Bloodfire from sky,” he states and then lowers his plate to look around the kitchen for more food.
The difference in culture couldn’t be more pronounced. I wonder how fast my goblin friend could grow if I let him eat as much as he wants. Keeping him to my meal plan, while economical, is actually holding him back, especially without access to the sun or moon. I pull the Leporid corpse from the subspace.
