3001 Paths to Death - A Lite litRPG Looper

It was a brutal battle for survival in my shell. I abandoned the stalking and stabbing for swinging and slaying. There was a lot more swinging than slaying. What I lacked in efficiency, I was making up for in gains. My arms burned from the strain. And while I had every advantage in the fight, the wolfbears were incredibly fierce fighters if given the chance.

I didn't plan to give them a chance, but my big and mighty sword was not nearly as sharp as needed to cut the thick fur.

I'd cut, they'd swipe back. I dodged, and they pushed forward, only to lose me in my mist. The three-step dance continued until my partner could no longer stand. I'd end their life quickly, thank them for the battle, and then invite my next partner.

It got a bit weird in my dome and very crowded with the dead. The killing floor got smaller, and I had to refine my weapon for the new stage. We were up close and personal.

I delivered more strikes with my smaller blade and received a few injuries. One particular claw strike nearly severed my arm. That forced me into a full retreat, and I hid until my mana healed the wound. I was shocked to see that it fully recovered. The pessimist in me was sure I'd have to reset for it to be healed properly. Luckily, that wasn't the case.

I resumed the delicate dance with a newfound respect for Swiper, and we fought for several minutes before I could claim victory.

The fight with the aggressive beast left me panting for air. Each gasp labored and tainted with the taste of iron. My lungs worked as hard as my heart pumped. I tried to control my breathing only to gag on the filmy wet residue I inhaled.

I didn't know how many beasts waited for me outside. Based on my senses, there were more than the ten or so grand rank beasts that I thought I had left.

It didn't matter. I needed out. I couldn't breathe in any more of this bloody air.

My barrier exploded into ice and mist. Shrapnel pierced the skin of weaker beasts, leaving the powerful unfazed. Mist filled the air, and I poured more mana into creating a large, dense fog. I still had my mana cloak, and as long as I kept my mist up, I'd be the hunter. I took in a couple large gasps of air, filling my lungs and heart.

My head no longer felt light, and my balance was more stable. I probably pushed it too far in the murder dome.

As I cleared my head from my personal fog, the distinct laughter of the wolfbears came crashing down. I was struck with a primal fear. Their presence was everywhere and closing in on me. The box was getting tighter. I was so small and weak. It was only fitting that I offer myself to the strong. They deserved me. It was my des—a sharp pain shot in my mind. Laughter dulled from the bright pain. In the moment of clarity, I surrounded my ears with an ice band.

The wolfbears closed in. I took another second to calm my nerves and then lashed out. Long sword in one hand, a battle ax in another. If anyone saw my fight, they would be disgusted by my methods. Even I couldn't hold back my own judgment. Regardless of my savage methods, I cut through flesh and bone. When my weapons broke, I summoned new ones. This time, with two axes.

I was as feral as the predators surrounding me.

Gore covered my body, and I had to force myself to stop licking lips that'd been dried from excessive mouth breathing. Though it hurt, I controlled my breathing to avoid the rusty haze permeating the battlefield. The haze followed wherever the battle took us. Death and red painted new turf seconds after my arrival.

I swung my sword until I couldn't hold it anymore. I switched to Snowpiercer and found I had just enough strength to fire my bow. I delivered death with every shot. Even the grand rank beasts were slain easily. I was a bloody nightmare inside my fog.

At some point, the sky darkened, and a trickle of water poured from the sky. The trickle turned to a downpour. The ground began to cool. Rain washed the grime from my body. Not contained in my shell, my fog slowly lifted. I no longer had the power to keep the mana from rising. The unveiled scene was sickening. I couldn't count the dead, nor did I want to. Only a few more beasts remained.

I was going to survive this fight. I had to endure. That was the third step in the body cultivation cycle.

The wolfbears noticed my presence and charged together. Grit and determination aided each of my shots. I was going to live.

My bow shook in my hand, the drawstring pulled to the extent of my strength. The half-shot would be enough. One beast down. Only seven left. I drew another arrow and willed myself to fire the shot. Six. I could only pull the bow a third of the way for the next two shots, bringing the count down to five. I pulled my last arrow before it came to daggers and limp arms. It was only a quarter of a draw, so I aimed to wound. The pack leader was in my sights; as I released my breath and prepared to fire, my world turned black.

I woke up standing in a puddle of water. My hand was stretched out. Blue refreshing mana accumulated on my fingers.

Selene's bloody damned pits. I died? I was winning that fight. I was going to survive. Soggy flaming bastard...

I needed a moment to calm my nerves.

The exhaustion that nearly claimed me at the end of the fight was only a haunting memory that lingered in my soul. I inhaled the air; it was still heavy with death, but at least I couldn't taste it.

I kept my eyes averted from my friends and decided to ignore the rest of the dead while I was at it. I was gonna need a good soak to fully recover. It took a couple more seconds to calm my nerves. It was strange; I don't remember dying, and I wasn't about to faint even though I was tired.

It only took a quick glance at my frozen body for the realization to sink in. Either the contained beast broke through my dome, or the rain melted it. I completely forgot about the beasts I captured before my tactical retreat. They must've picked the more leisurely meal, and if the rain melted my dome, it would've melted my body. Maybe the wolfbears didn't even get to me. I could've just run out of time.

But why did it rain? It didn't rain in the loop before the last, and I lived for the same amount of time. Even the amount of mana I expended was about the same, and I wasn't nearly strong enough to affect the weather, not that I knew how. The only difference was my lack of cultivation at the beginning of the last loop. The influx of mana tended to affect weather and the environment, and even though the enlightened beasts consumed the dead, they couldn't absorb the mana like awakened beings.

So, if I didn't cultivate the excess energy or remove my body, I might have two days tops before getting eaten or unthawed. That was good to know. Then again, Tents could've told me it was going to rain.

I waited another moment for the inevitable retort. New life, passive-aggressive thoughts, and ignorant speculation were what I figured to be a surefire summoning ritual.

It's not rain, I could imagine him saying, except it'd be more proper, and he'd exaggerate his syllables as he tended to. The retort didn't come. I tried to sense my mind invader. Like all other attempts, I couldn't find him.

"You hear that Squids? I said thanks for the warning." He didn't take my bait; it was nice and chummy, too. That was the other thing about squids. This relationship was one-sided. He got to frolic in my mind, doing as he pleased. I had to put in the work and effort. I was keeping us alive… sorta and getting us strong. What was he doing? My thoughts lingered on my possessive companion before I shook my head clear and focussed on more productive pursuits—meditation and then cultivation.

I was wrong about my earlier assumption. I didn't live half as long in my last life as I did in the loop before. I spent nearly three days in this spot alone and then another day fighting. In my previous life, I was maybe two days max. My body cultivation gains were nearly the same, though. I had gained another quarter of a level in the strength pathway. I didn't feel any stronger. Maybe I was a little faster? More explosive?

I continued to control the flow of my thoughts, recounting the battle and finding ways to improve. I had a steel blade but never used it due to the demand for a larger weapon, and switching over to the blade in the middle of the fight was inconvenient when my summons was merely a thought away. So, what I needed was to improve my blade summoning. With enough practice, I was sure I could improve the sharpness of my weapon. I pushed the goal to later, adding it to my ever-growing list of things I needed to do. Countless lives... it didn't feel like it was enough.

When it came time to review my new skill, mist wraith, I was stoked. During that fight, I got to experience what light cultivators with the vanishing skill experienced all the time. It was a dark power that made me trust the creepers even less. Unlike the creepers vanishing whenever they pleased, mist wraith was very conditional. I needed mist and to be covered in my mana—projecting a water aura. Even then, I was not disappearing; I was more melding into my mist.

The more I thought about it, the more limitations I found or theorized about. It wasn't the ace in the sleeve I thought it would be. Cultivators with a high perception could pierce the veil, and the same could be said for spirit beasts. Air lancers could blow my mist away. Dark lancers could block my mana, cutting off my aura. Fire lancers could evaporate my mist or, even better, track my heat signatures. Light lancers had enough tricks that they would surely be able to find me, and life lancers were just plain hard to hide from. Death and earth lancers might cower at my might. I couldn't think of ways they could counter my spell. I guess technically, a death lancer with the ability to absorb had the chance to use any skill.

The pales were such cheaters when it came to abilities. Clearly, whatever higher power or force out there favored them. They even had their own motto: ' Death is power.' I mean, it made sense because pales were strong, and killing was the fastest way for anyone to grow in power. It was still weird, and they let it go to their head.

The pales weren't even number one on the kill list. It was always bloomers first and then the pales if no sleepers were around. Everyone knew sleepers died first. No one was chanting, 'death to the sleepers,' though, and all the dark cultivators I knew were somewhat normal. On top of that, I never once questioned the sleepers on whether my corpse would be used as their minion. Pales said they had a code. No one believed them.

Probably the best use of my new ability was to get better at running away. The better I ran, the more likely I was to survive, which was essential to body cultivation. If I hadn't died in those last two fights, I might have already had a complete level of strength.

My fragile, weak body let me down. Perhaps it was time to start learning how to create ice armor.