Waking up revealed my mana had risen to 95, which meant a respectable eight-hour nap. Both physical speed and magical endurance had also ticked up by one. However, much like going to the gym, it was hard to give a shit when the effects weren’t immediately noticeable. Breakfast preceded what was no doubt going to be a long day of walking and Errant slaying. A smoke tempted me but embracing violent withdrawal might work out to my benefit today. Any monsters on my path were utterly fucked. Even the satisfaction of visceral melee appealed.

  My pace ended up as slow, weighed down by sneaking while lugging my stuff around. My winter jacket served as an awkward carrier bag, wrapped around the portable forge and the backpack resting within. The idea was to drop them at a moment’s notice when the fighting started.

  It took over an hour before my first victim showed up. The fucker was almost certainly sneaking too because it hadn’t made a single noise. It rounded a corner about three meters in front of me, emerged from my left. Unfortunately, its paw rounding the corner startled me and dropping my stuff sounded the starting shot. I froze, while the paw grabbed onto the corner. Eternity compressed when the claw sank into stone with astonishing, primal violence.

  Before I could react, a short screech like nails on chalkboard announced the rest of the Errant as it rounded the corner and catapulted diagonally towards where wall and ceiling met to my right.

  A sword manifested in my right hand as the blur bounded diagonally again. My tracking struggled to keep up. Rather than take aim, I’d backstepped reflexively, vainly hoping to create distance. Huge fucking mistake. It left me in the air and the beast clearly recognized opportunity when quarry presented itself on a silver platter. Another violent brace was accented by shattered stone and the monstrosities’ hard leap closed two thirds of the distance between us in an instant. Bladed extremities reached for me while I’d only managed to slightly angle my projectile.

  Panicked reflex took control of my body and caused me to do nothing but slam my feet onto the floor mid dodge. The sudden anchoring clashed with my rearward momentum, and pitched me backwards in what would soon become an uncontrolled tumble. In a singular moment of clarity, I finished lining up my shot and wildly thought ‘Launch launch launch!’ as the last remnants of balance left me.

  The weapon wrenched out of my hand in a flash and time slowed when it impaled the Errant point blank through the chest at an upwards angle, mercilessly disrupting its graceful pounce in a spray of black blood. Fuck. The violent clang made me flinch and cross my arms defensively, reinforced by the flats of twin magic swords.

  The impact slammed me into the ground, luckily practicing the maneuver paid off. My improvised shields entered my sheath skill before starry lights polluted my vision as the back of my head become intimate with the hallway floor. Nearby shuffling and scratching barely registered. Survival instinct alone drove me to roll over and extend my arm at the beast, now several meters in front of me with a gaping hole in its chest. Dark liquid poured out and evaporated with unnatural speed. Shit. It was still alive, but getting up in a far less energetic scramble than before.

  A flying sword interrupted its return to stability. This time it skewered the creature lengthwise, accompanied by a high pitched whine typical of metal on metal friction. That put it down and the smoke from open wounds sizzled. My swimming vision calmed amidst labored breaths.

  Adrenaline slowly settled down in-between furtive glances up and down the hallway. My interface confirmed some level of safety at least. I immediately ignored any discomfort and touched the first sword, still embedded in the ceiling nearby, and then went for the one still stuck in the killing machine. A short surge of maddening euphoria passed through me. Holy shit, I’m still alive. What the fuck was that thing?

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  Its appearance hadn’t properly registered due to the chaos of combat in what couldn’t have been more than a few seconds of fighting. A sickness rose in my stomach once the events solidified in my mind, even as the acute effects of my concussion faded away rapidly.

  To my surprise, the back of my head was dry instead of sticky with blood. My arms were fine somehow, aside from the telltale greenish blue of a heavy bruise on my left wrist. Shock faded away with the realization. My left arm was definitely not fine, throbbing with pain. Shaking off the hurt was followed by a proper look at my would-be killer.

  Jesus fucking Christ. It was ‘roided out and covered in full plate armor. Like a medieval knight who’d modeled his armor according to his inner thoughts, perennially stagnant in the dark and edgy phase, and then transformed into an animal born from nightmare.

  It was entirely black and roughly tiger sized and just as four-legged. The similarities ended there. It had no tail and its head was a triangular shape, not unlike a lizard. Except for the catlike ears, they lacked holes and seemed entirely ornamental. It had no mouth from the looks of it. A quick tap with my weapon confirmed the hardness of its natural armor plating.

  It was covered in the stuff, rare glimpses underneath showed skintight corded muscle. It had two pairs of yellow slit eyes on its head, with one set facing forward and the other set to the sides. Both were covered by thin strips of armor, reminding me of a certain type of sunglasses. Many of the plates had bladelike protrusions running lengthwise across them which easily sliced into a sacrificial wooden cube. Its claws were like extended daggers and closer to straight blades instead of the expected animalistic half-moon curve. Some testing revealed they were just as retractable though.

  I’d been insane thinking melee would ever be an option and far too intoxicated from slaughtering bonypedes on my way forward. At least the beginnings of a proper fighting style were solidifying. Checking my interface sparked a realization. My mana had gone down by twenty, which meant my hurried launches had compounded. Condensing the bastard showed it was five out of five. The other options were bonemetal and the usual manual harvest.

  Clearly my tumble had knocked a screw or ten loose because my thoughts were reaching into insane territory. Fucking off and never looking back felt like the wrong choice right now. The nasties aboveground had seemed a lot more terrifying than the ones here in the tunnels so far. That situation changed with this fucker, yet the terrain favored me. The outcome of our duel would have been very different if it had more room to maneuver or, System forbid, more terrain elements to use as a springboard.

  Whatever lurked in the bamboo thicket remained a mystery, aside from the trees. But there was a good chance it would take me by surprise in more ways than one. Here, my opponents were known.

  It became increasingly harder to ignore the reality of my situation. The Errant were everywhere. My options were to either get a handle on fighting or just give up now. Nothing about the new world was straightforward. Even old skills and instincts failed to carry over. They barely existed in the first place. There was no life or death in a boxing ring.

  If combat was going to be the new normal then taking a clue from the beasty seemed prudent. My denim jeans and green sweater were woefully inadequate as anything more than casual wear. Having armor shifted the odds significantly in my favor. The answer to its construction lingered right in front of me. The surrounding maze promised a cornucopia of future fortification.

  Shit. I wasn’t built for this kind of crap. The thought of repeat death matches made me physically ill and survival instincts dictated me to swallow down the rising acidic mush. Facing fears wasn’t easy and death scared me plenty. But the same damned part of me which once enjoyed a good spar whispered of spoils, of victories, and of further empowerment. One more thing stood out. My anxiety had retreated in its entirety, leaving me with a dissonant sense of calm. The war within settled soon after. Reason lost.

  I would go on. I would fight. I would survive.

  I would thrive, if fate allowed.

  If not, I would die.

  Again.