3001 Paths to Death - A Lite litRPG Looper

Lingering smoke engulfed my head. I blew as hard as I could to dissuade the cloud from coming my way. It would have been an easy feat if I had been a puffer. Everyone agreed air cultivators blew as much hot air as smokers, if not more. As silly as the power of the wind was, I wish I had that power right about now. My eyelids pushed down hard, trying to keep a tight cover on my eyes.

It wasn't enough. Smoke still got through. In a cruel twist of fate, my puffing attempts backfired, turning into huffing. Tears washed the crusty grime from my face as I coughed awkwardly.

I was a head sticking above ground, probably hairless, including the brows, and I had dirt in my teeth. It was as if the gods condemned me for belittling a practitioner of the arts… or burning down a forest… or perhaps someone was fond of the laughing wolfbears.

"Oy."

I heard a voice from behind. My remaining good eye rolled to look for the earth cultivator. Peripheral was doing me no favors, so I waited side-eyed until the stoner stood where I could see.

"Ya still alive over there? Yer friends in rough shape. Nearly put em down as courtesy."

Friend, what… "Noo." That was all I could manage to say.

"Selene's braided pits. Ur worse than yer friend. Want me to kill ya, too? Though... mind sharing what paste ur using to get such a shiny complexion before I off ya."

I strained my eye further to the left to see the grounder.

"Right, me bad, lad. I just have this policy: never stand directly in front of puffers. I know, I know, it's prejudice. I just can't trust them. They're as bad as the creepers." A massive stone hammer dropped, missing my head by inches and filling up my periphery—classic stoner move. "How 'bout this. You don't blow smoke, and I won't use this.

"Y... Y-h…” I gave up on words and nodded my compliance. It was a short nod, but compliant still the same. The earth cultivator agreed.

"Good, the name's Tom. What's yers?"

"Nop." I try to mumble something coherent.

"Aye, that's not islander."

"Nop."

"Part blood, too," Tom said as if that explained much. In fairness to Tom, it did. Highlanders, like islanders, were orcs. Typically, highlanders lived on the central mountains of Mauna, most never leaving the capital city, Domhain, in their life. Highlanders were known for their incredible earth-cultivating techniques and often won tournaments worldwide. Because of their xenophobic nature, most practitioners believe their powerful earth cultivation is in their blood. Others think it is their worship of their Shogar.

Unlike islanders who'd shorn their tusks in defiance of the Shogar, highlanders remained loyal in their worship to the high mage and faithfully tithed their mana.

Like typical highlanders, Tom had copper skin, a thick muscular build, long braided hair, a clean beard, and spoke in the common lazy tongue of all orcs.

What set Tom apart was his lack of tusks—which could be a result of his mixed blood, rebellion, or both—and the massive wooden pauldron he wore on his shoulder. The fancy shoulder guards contrasted his garb attire of loose pants and shirt, no shoes, and a round hat.

Tom was at least a sage based on the size of his pauldrons and mana emitted from his aura.

The highlander grins. "Aye." He raised a hand, pulling my body entombed in dirt out of the ground. Rocks and loose dirt fall from my coffin, but my tomb remains intact. "Let's get ya fixed 'fore smokes returns."

The smoker? Why would Purity return? Oh. In the corner of my good eye, the shimmer of Sparky could be seen covering Tom's hand.

Both of my bodies are lifted in the air. Then Tom opened a hole in the ground, jumped in, and pulled my two nearly dead bodies with him. Darkness filled my vision and crept into my mind.

I woke up free-floating in a pond that stretched thirty yards in width and double that in length. I could see through the twelve feet of clear water to the rocky bottom that gradually sloped to the shore. A light breeze carried the heavy, damp air around.

Goosebumps rose, covering my mangled body. I didn't like them—bumpy, weird, and weak, I shivered. What was this cold feeling? I don't remember the last time I felt cold. The sensation was as odd as the goosebumps.

I ran a quick check through my body, stretching my hands, fingers, legs, and stomach. Despite the incredible pain, my body was functioning, albeit less enthusiastic to obey. I eased my arms out, feeling the soreness through the entire motion, and paddled.

I spun in circles, though I didn't know why.

I thought I died. Waking up in a cave and floating in a pool instead of standing in a puddle messed with my reality. I couldn't remember how I got here and why my body felt like it was leaking through the stomach. Also, one of my eyes wasn't working. My depth perception was off, and it was giving me a headache.

The mysteries of life were beyond me.

I continued to float in circles in a pond, in a cave full of life and bright as day. Fog clouded my mind, my body ached, and my soul… was empty?

That couldn't be right. I had made tremendous progress filling up my fourth layer. After another round of cultivation, it would've been half full. Empty made no sense.

I reached to scratch my head. My hand missed, and I ended up punching myself with my wrist. I looked at my hand closer. It was missing. I panicked. I lost my hand... Did I drop it? I searched the bottom of the pond. The frantic motion tore a patch covering my stomach open, turning the clear water red. I had to get out of the water. Why was I swimming to begin with? You don't swim with an open wound. That was ocean-dwelling basics. The murky water terrified me. I didn't know what lingered below, but it probably stole my hand and desired more.

With my one good hand, I scooped and pulled water, trying to swim toward safety. I crawled onto the shore. My lungs demanded strong breaths. I managed short, choppy ones. It wasn't enough. Lightness filled my head. I reached to massage it and was reminded of my missing hand. Did I lose another one?

Blood rushed to my head. My head rushed to the ground.

I woke up lying next to a puddle of water. One arm stretched out, and the other was covered and tied to my chest. A bandage covered an eye, and a patch of mud covered my stomach. Rocks underneath me jammed into my back. My body ached, but it was bearable. I was so lost. I thought I died. I should've woken up in that graveyard, standing in a puddle, not lying next to one. I didn't bother to question it. I closed my eye and fell back asleep.

"Good, ur wake…"

I could hear distant talking. Even though my mind was active, I hadn't opened my eyes. The calm voice sounded so familiar. Pa?

I couldn't remember the last time I heard him or Ma talk. I thought they were dead. I missed them so much. Tears fell unbridled. It felt so good to listen to Pa's voice again. My open tears would bring shame. I didn't care, neither would they.

"Easy, son. Yer mana's replenishing. Breathe and sleep." The tender voice eased my back to sleep.

I woke up standing in a puddle of water. My hand stretched out. Blue refreshing mana accumulated on my fingers. Tenty laid on the ground next to my impaled body. His body and face sprawled from when he died.

Tears streamed down my face.