Freddy sat beside the people he had made a deal with; there were only three of them there so far, with their leader sitting on the small chair and the other two seated on the couch beside Freddy.
The man whose strength the leader had much faith in was the quiet type, sporting a buzz cut even shorter than his own, his longsword resting in its sheath and his black synthetic carbon helm placed on the table before them. The man wore black—not pitch black like those items Freddy had seen in the equipnt store, but dark enough to be near-invisible during the nightti.
Three bags, all in a similar style to his own, were piled beneath the coffee table.
The three party mbers chatted idly, refraining from any talks about the delving itself until the other three mbers of their crew arrived. They talked about the weather, shared stories about their outings and parties they'd been to recently, and generally stuck to mundane, day-to-day stuff.
"So," the third man, a guy with long black hair, wearing a thick green coat and carrying a bow over his back, called and turned to face him. "What's your na, soldier?" he asked snarkily.
"F—" He bit his tongue. He had co really close to introducing himself as Freddy. Then he realized that he had actually forgotten the na on his ID.
Oh, shit, what was it again? he wondered. Leonard?
That didn't seem right.
"My na is Liam," he said, suddenly rembering it. "Liam Johnson," he added, sharing the fake surna he had settled on.
Once half a year or so passed, that would be on his ID card, so he started introducing himself as such ahead of ti to make sure that that was the na he was known by and not the actual na on the ID. He wanted to avoid leaving such a trail out in the wide open if at all possible.
"Well, nice to et you, Liam. My na is Robert," the archer offered, nodding his head.
"Oh, right," the swordsman rembered. "I'm Kyle."
"My na's Theodore," the leader added, raising his hand with a smirk on his face.
"So, tell honestly," the archer continued. "Are you new to delving?" the man asked bluntly. The other two seed interested as well.
"Honestly?" He humd. "Kind of? I've fought monsters before, but it wasn't in delves like these," he fully admitted. "What, did the new gear give it away?"
The leader's eye twitched. "Dude… you have no experience?" he asked, looking absolutely scandalized and seemingly preparing himself to renege the deal they had made.
But he was quick to shut that down. "Don't worry, I have enough experience to handle myself."
The man raised an eyebrow. "Tell about your skill set," he demanded.
Freddy hesitated. It would be best if they knew his basic abilities for the safety of everyone involved, but he would refrain from sharing everything. "I have the water affinity, and my Flowing Strike is at stage one," he stated. "I also have a rather advanced Hydraulic Flex, and I use Hundred Wet Hells as my primary tempering technique. I've been training unard martial arts, although, admittedly, I'm not the most talented at it, so I've been focusing on growing my abilities to compensate."
"Pffff—" the leader snorted. "Co on, I get hyping your resu, but be realistic!"
"What?" he spluttered confusedly.
"An advanced Hydraulic Flex and Hundred Wet Hells. Hah!" he snorted. "Get a load of Young Master over here; do you think we were born yesterday?"
"Uh…" he muttered. "I an, if you want to demonstrate, I'd be happy to…" he offered but didn't know how.
"Okay, then," the man said, amusent crawling over his face. "If you have Hundred Wet Hells, you shouldn't be afraid of an arm-wrestling match with my buddy."
Freddy rolled his eyes at that. This man must really like watching arm wrestling.
"Hell, with Hydraulic Flex," the man continued, "you might even win!"
He wanted to retort, but… he realized that saying, "I'm not the one who'll get hurt," would sound just a bit too arrogant. Sighing, he turned to the swordsman. "Which is your dominant arm?"
The man answered, "Right."
He nodded at him. "Sa. So let's both do left, then. That way, even if I break your arm, it won't hinder your swordsmanship."
"Ooohohohoho," the archer cackled, clapping his hands. "Those are so fightin' words. I like this guy."
"Okay then," the leader said, shrugging with an expression that betrayed his anticipation. "Let's get it on. Move all this shit," he requested, moving the miscellaneous bottles and papers off the coffee table.
"Uhm," he started, raising an eyebrow. "Is this all right? Won't we get into trouble if we break the table?"
"Nah, don't worry," the man waved an arm. "They have nature-affinity personnel who can fix broken tables in seconds. Idiots like us are an everyday occurrence in these parts."
Although he was pretty strong, he was damn skinny. He had recovered a bit but was still quite far from his bodybuilder era. A two-star physique had nearly twice the physical potential of a one-star, but he hadn't tapped much into it.
Still, he was a hundred percent confident in his victory, even if the man had a powerful strength-related talent. The reason why was simple—he had a second star. Although his overall essence capacity was still only around 110% of the maximum a one-star could have, given that his star added only another 10%, he could now double the essence consumption when using an ability. All he had to do was engage both stars at once. A Hydraulic Flex at double power would be more than enough to close the gap. He just had to make sure it wasn't too noticeable.
The two adversaries got into position. Freddy tightly gripped the table with his right hand and clasped his left with the other man's. The two n stared each other down, both doing a few tease pulls to psych their opponent out and lightly test their strength, and the tension around them grew.
People started whispering. Quite a few bystanders made their way closer, gathering into a small crowd of spectators.
The party leader got into position. A few monts later, he swung an arm down. "Begin!"
Both n pulled.
"Gah!" Freddy groaned, instantly having to resort to full physical exertion just to keep his arm from getting slamd down. No wonder they were so damn confident.
But… even without Hydraulic Flex, he was actually holding on. The man's face was growing red, and he appeared sweaty, not that he was doing much better himself—if anything, he regretted not taking the stupid helt off.
As the match progressed, it beca increasingly evident that he would lose. But it was happening really slowly. Although the man had already gained full advantage and brought leverage under his control, the rate at which his arm dropped wasn't particularly fast.
He wasn't surprised; his endurance and willpower were extraordinary, so he could keep going unhindered even in the face of the pain and discomfort. But winning without Hydraulic Flex wouldn't be possible.
Just as his arm was about to fall a bit too low for him to stand a chance of recovery, he activated his ability, using only a single star. It was as if the man suddenly beca weightless. As the essence flowed through the water in his limb, it compressed and tightened his biceps while his grip on the table grew strong enough to make the wood crack.
The man's entire body was rotated, and he was thrown bodily to the side as the back of his hand slamd into the table's surface, shattering it into splinters.
For a long mont, the room turned deathly silent. Then the cheering began.
***
For the fifteenth ti, Freddy profusely apologized to Kyle. Given his talk about "risking party mbers' injuries," he felt like the biggest goddamn hypocrite. Now, the man's hand was being wrapped up in bandages by a rather angry-looking blonde woman, a water-affinity caster nad Petra.
The other three party mbers had arrived, including a tall, bald Black man, Lance, who was an earth-affinity brawler; Petra, as ntioned above; and Beatrice—a red-head fire-affinity caster and Theodore's wife—who was in the middle of an argunt with him because he hired help without consulting the entire party.
He looked down at his left hand, deep in thought. He had absolutely no idea that Hydraulic Flex was that powerful. The ti in the caves hadn't provided him with enough opportunity to truly test it. But even without it… even as a freshly ascended two-star and martial artist… should he really have strength comparable to soone with a dedicated talent for it?
No. The answer to that was no. Definitely not. Maybe if he had more muscle mass, he could justify it, but this—
"Excuse ," Petra called, lightly tapping his forearm.
"Huh?" he said, turning to face her. "Oh, sorry; what is it?"
"We are starting the eting," she said blandly, eyeing him with blatant dislike. "So you should probably pay so attention if you're still going with us."
"Oh!" he exclaid. "Right, I'm so sorry."
"Hmph," she snorted, turning back to face the others.
As they settled in their seats, there were many signs that their minds were still on the arm-wrestling match. Robert sneered at Kyle teasingly, Theodore tried not to under the baleful glare of Beatrice, Lance shook his head at them in disapproval, Petra still looked quite annoyed given that her fiance had just gotten needlessly injured before a delve, and Kyle seed deeply ashad.
But as soon as Theodore opened his mouth and started the eting, all that vanished instantly. Lives depended on solid preparation. There was no room for drama.
The realm they were delving into was a tricky one. Many realms were underground or had permanent nights or days, while others had so form of day-night cycle that might or might not resemble New Earth's. Where they were delving was the latter, but it was the worst type imaginable.
The night was nearly pitch black, while the days were searing hot—and neither lasted a set amount of ti. Both could last between fifteen minutes and over fifty hours, with no way to predict their length. When it was ti to swap, it happened in a snap. Bright days turned to pitch darkness, and depths of the night turned blindingly sunny in an instant—and if it happened during a fight, one better adapt fast.
Gorels lived underground, so they didn't rely on their eyes much either way.
To make things even worse, the Crimson Twilight would appear every half-year to two years. Neither night nor day, it was a state where the sky grew blood red and the gorels went insane. It was the only ti the royal guards made their way to the surface, and an outright war between the hives happened.
Thankfully, the last ti the Crimson Twilight appeared was two months ago, so there was minimal risk of it occurring for quite a while longer. But, unfortunately, that ca with a significant downside—the cycles had been disrupted.
Gorels had queens that lived short lives, anywhere between two and three months, depending on the size of the hive—shorter in bigger ones and longer in smaller ones. Things got quite hectic when it was ti for a new queen to be born.
Different monster species treated deviants differently. So followed their species' mightiest mbers, deviant or not. While others… got rid of them. For gorels, it was complicated. They tolerated deviants most of the ti, but in the few days when they swapped queens, the guards grew hyper-protective, resulting in all the deviants being chased out of the nest or killed.
The interesting part was that, in larger hives, while there were more deviants, the tunnels were too long for most of them to escape, while the smaller hives, which had fewer deviants, had far more of them make it to the surface due to the shorter escape paths.
Being around small hives who were swapping queens was insanely dangerous. It was also quite popular. Why? Because deviants, upon death, had a chance to manifest a pri vestige. Killing them was among the few ways pris could be acquired, and as Freddy had learned the hard way, pris could fetch quite the price.
The first few months after a Crimson Twilight were always tricky. Hives sporadically lost their queens, and the cycles got more complicated to track. Fighting deviants might have been lucrative, but it was high risk, high reward. They could be all sorts of tricky, and for less experienced parties, it was best to avoid them with a wide berth.
That was their party's plan, and he had no objections. It was a sound decision. The chances of getting a pri were in the low single digits—an unwise gamble, given the danger involved.
Planning their route and dividing roles took them less than twenty minutes. Both Beatrice and Petra were furious to discover that he was on his first delve, and the only reason they hadn't outright chased him out was that he was at least fully equipped and had proved himself capable enough to outmuscle their main muscleman, as well as considerate enough to use the non-dominant arm.
Still, even though they decided to let him stay, they rigorously instructed him on what to do.
"Never go out of sight," Petra repeated herself. "Always inform us of anything coming, even if you think we saw it. Don't fight anything; you'll only get in the way; even if you think we're losing the fight, you shouldn't get involved. We can't use our abilities freely without all our mbers knowing the right cues and having the training to react to hearing them. If you still wish to act, expect to be hit by Beatrice's fireball or Robert's arrows. If sothing, or soone, goes for the bags, it's your job to delay it until we can react. Fail to do this, and you'll lose your cut. Do I need to repeat anything else?"
He thought for a mont, then shook his head.
"Okay," she said. "Well then. I think we should get going."
***
While he had been concerned about the earnings split, it turned out that his worries were for naught. They all had to confirm that they were in the sa party, and the leader presented the shares with their consent while the clerk wrote them down. For a brief mont, he was scared that this process would reveal the na on his ID, but that was also sothing he didn't need to worry about. While he did have to give his ID, it was only to docunt everything, and the na wasn't shared with his party mbers.
As soon as they finished that, they walked down into the room. Almost imdiately, an unpleasant tang in the air struck his senses. He recognized that sll. It was the stink of blood, and he could even sense the faint hint of charred flesh.
That brought up extrely unpleasant mories, but he showed no outward indication that it had upset him. It was easier to hide things when nobody could see his face. Eventually, they finally entered the lobby that directly connected to the passage.
The first thing that caught his eye in the main room was the massive portal on the other side. It was the most prominent passage he had ever seen, wide enough for ten people to walk side by side without much problem.
And, through that passage, several people dragged monster corpses. Most of them were contained in transparent plastic bags.
They looked slightly smaller than he expected them to, but their description as edgy sloth monkeys was on point. Their fur collected into black spikes, and hints of red adorned their chests.
There were no cozy couches here, only hard benches and wooden chairs; on so of them, injured individuals were having their wounds treated out in the open. One of them had a massive gash along his stomach, and a part of his intestines was falling out.
Thank fuck that I decided to handle equipnt before coming here, was the only thought he had on his mind as he winced in sympathy as the person scread at having their viscera shoved back into their guts.
"Nasty day," Theodore said. "Stay focused."
Kyle, who looked more intimidating in his work mode, gradually shifted towards Freddy until he stepped beside him. "So… you also have a strength talent, then?" the man asked as if the answer was already evident.
His lips tightened as he thought his words through. He had already prepared what he would say to others ahead of ti. "Actually, no," he denied. "I have a regeneration-boosting talent." Which was close enough to the truth that nobody would question it.
Even if soone noticed that his talent worked harder while he was fighting, he could always say that killing things or fighting made his talent go into overdrive or that he could manually boost the effectiveness sotis or whatever. As long as he stuck close enough to the truth, it would be easy to justify discrepancies.
"Wow!" the man said, frowning in bemusent. "How the hell are you so strong, then?"
"Steroids," he said simply, again stating a half-truth. "A lot of 'em."
The man winced at that. "Yeah, that makes sense. You weren't kidding about that Hydraulic Flex, though," he conceded, chuckling. "That thing must be close to stage one, right?"
His lips yet again stretched into a line upon hearing that. It was actually only at around 30% complete. "Yeah," he confird anyway.
"Man, you must have had—" The man tried continuing the conversation, but Petra intervened.
"Quiet back there. We're entering the passage."
Thus, they stepped through the massive entrance. It was day, luckily, and they walked out into the clearing. The sun burned intensely, shining from almost directly above. Trees had been felled, and a wide area had been cleared of growth. It was quite rocky, with many bushes covering the stones and dium-height trees jutting sparsely through the rough terrain. The heated air swiveled above the stone quarry around them, twisting and morphing with the heated air coming off them.
Without hesitation, Theodore turned down their planned route, and they started their hunt in absolute silence.
Reviews
All reviews (0)