NOVEL FROG 32. Cutting Shortcuts
Sabertooth panthers challenged me on my iced pond one by one. The black cats hid well in the jungle and could not be found until they readied their attack. I stood my ground by the fallen snake and battled each cat. The fights required quick reflexes. Instead of a battle of strength, the battle was determined by speed and durability. The panthers had speed. I had durability. After a few rounds, I became accustomed to their attack patterns and how they could maneuver their body as if it was a separate link. Their speed became less of an advantage, and I was accumulating mana instead of losing it. Their deaths honed my technique with a blade. When I needed a break, I switched to my bow and dispersed mist over a small area.
I battled over a hundred of the night prowlers, a couple more snakes, and a host of flowers. The Ao's limp noodles weren't nearly as bad now that I treated every vine as a demon. Step, search, and slay became my pattern. Trees fell in my path.
The concept of time didn't exist in this realm. The light was constant and didn't seem to diminish. Judging by my tiredness and hunger, I'd been inside for an entire day. I needed to rest, but as a precaution, I waited at least an hour from my last battle before allowing myself to sit and relax. I needed a break and food.
Dinner was a mix of cat, snake, and red moss with energy-enhancing properties. Fire moss tended to favor humid environments. Besides the moss, the snake and cat were bland. That didn't stop me from eating my fill and smoking some meat for later. I gathered all the cores I could process from the cats and snakes, created a pack, and worked on freeze-bangs. My break lasted another couple of hours. By then, my muscles had recovered, my mana was at a safe level, and I had plenty of freeze bangs for all the forest shenanigans. At least, I hoped so.
It was time to get back to rangering.
I crouched low, bow in my hand, and senses stretched out. My ears tracked any movement, and my eyes were alert. Bogs had a faint-moldy smell to them, which I now paid attention to and either altogether avoided or froze them before proceeding. Panthers also had cues that I caught onto as I explored the jungle. They were mouth breathers—no better than the loudmouth mountaineers in the mountains. Sure, they weren't as loud as the mountaineers. I honestly don't think anyone could make that claim. As far as silent hunters were concerned, these cats were basically calling out their position.
The snakes were no better. They had a nasty habit of leading with their body. It was a great surprise tactic the first dozen times. Who wouldn't jump at a thin, slimy vine trying to rope you? After that, they became bloody predictable and exposed. Nothing more than a vine before a machete, an obstacle to cut through and get around.
Oversized rats were a welcome surprise when they arrived. Like the wolfhounds, they came in packs of hundreds and were the size of dogs. They didn't rely on ambushing techniques. Instead, they brute-forced their opponent with their numbers. I encountered a pack stripping a vine snake of its flesh when I first encountered them. The rats leaped at their new meal. Freeze-bangs and a hammer defeated the scourge. About one in ten rats had a core. I wasted a few minutes figuring out which rats were enlightened or not. The trick was their ears. The enlightened rats had longer ears that were sharp to a point. Once that was sorted, refilling my freeze bangs was simple.
The jungle, though massive, was filled with few surprises. I continued to explore until I reached the end of the realm. A wall of vines and trees created a barrier as thick as the cavern walls. I followed the wall for a time, sticking to the outskirts of the jungle. There were a few snakes and rat packs out here. The snakes never attacked; they remained nested high on the wall.
On the other hand, the rats were twice as aggressive when they were outside the jungle, and they came in different varieties. I thought fire-breathing rats would be the extent of surprises. I was wrong. There were spiked rats, water rats, toxic rats, and a bunch of dead walking rats—which were immune to ice attacks unless the ice attack was the hammering type. Hammers were more effective on the dead rats than on the frozen rats. I think it was their tendency to bunch together and that their malnourished bodies were mostly bone. Some were closer to skeletons than beasts as the fur had rotted off the body. They were like walking gemstones with how vibrant the cores inside of them glowed. That was the other peculiar detail about skelly rats; all of them had a core. I found common, superior, and one grand core in the pile of bones.
The barrier eventually led back into the forest. I knew it was leading back into the jungle and not that I completed a full loop around the cavern because the paces didn't add up. It was a mapper's intuition. There should've been another three miles of wall walking before the barrier curved around. I didn't want to return to the jungle just yet. I took another break to cultivate and snack. Then created an ice barrier and napped.
I woke up refreshed and anxious for some physical labor. I worked through my list of katas, starting with stretching and working through the body, mind, and spirit and ending with sword forms. As bad as my sword technique was, I still obsessed over the weapon. Part of the obsession I attribute to childhood fantasies and unmet desires. It was crazy how parts of the past stuck with you.
After my katas, I summoned a wood cutter's ax and got to chopping. As predicted, the ax cut deep into the vines and branches—each swing cut several bands that whipped away due to tight tension. The cutting became cathartic, and before long, I dripped with sweat, and my heart pounded hard against my chest. I wiped the sweat away with my left hand, flicked the beads away, and chopped.
Creating shortcuts was a secret technique of an efficient guide master. Customers loved shortcuts. They didn't care that they were getting less experience; customers were happy to get what they paid for faster. I was no guide master, but I had bouts of laziness that would impress the most productive guide. One of these proud moments was chopping through the wall instead of walking to the entrance somewhere in the forest.
Never walk around when one can walk through, and likewise, never walk through what one should walk around. That was a messy chapter in the guidebook that led to many arguments in the Guide's Guild. However, even the most fervent pathwalker would agree that this wall was absolutely a through moment.
I cut through six feet of vines, branches, logs, leaves, and snakes. I felt like a validated champion when I broke through the other side. I might've even tossed my sturdy ax in a moment of celebration. There was a lot of doubt and disbelief I had to cut through to get here. At one point, I started questioning everything I knew and believed in.
Quitings for quitters, I'd argue.
Quitters finished first, I'd counter.
Damn. I'd land in a stupor of thought and keep chopping.
None of that mattered now. To the victor goes the spoils. My spoils were a shortcut to a better path. I reached the other side, and… I was no longer in a jungle. Beside the wall I cut through, there was no hint of jungle. I stood in a medium-sized cavern in classic cavern style. The ceiling was about twenty feet over my head. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, a few still dripping. Dark mana prevailed in the air, with earth and a hint of water. Life mana, which was so abundant on the other side, couldn't be felt on this side. The cavern smelled moldy, and the dripping water landed with a plop in stagnant water. I could almost hear the ripples.
Besides a few stalagmites and puddles, there was nothing else on the floor. I don't know what I expected. A treasure chest filled with a majestic sword was too lofty of a dream. A dungeon boss would have been predictable. Emptiness, now that was a surprise. I had a newfound respect for the empty lair.
That was the secret power of shortcuts; with less time for buildup, you were less prone to disappointment.
I lingered in the empty room, adopting my traversing technique of hugging the wall and exploring. The lair was as empty on the opposite side as where I entered. In a bold attempt to tempt fate, I kicked over a stalagmite. Kicking tiny towers turned out to be more rewarding than chopping branches. I gave in to my demons and leveled the entire city. After my grounded rampage, I looked above and began assaulting the heavens.
Dust kicked up when I stepped to the middle of the room to admire my renovations. The mighty had fallen, and only one remained.
"Who dares to defy me?" I asked the empty room. The only response was my echo. There was a good reason adventures weren't supposed to dungeon alone. A group of level heads stayed level longer. My justification was that it was a satirical indulgence. Sometimes, it felt good to let go, and when you were alone, letting go had no limits.
"Behold my power. And Despair." I finished my tirade with my arms spread out, standing in the classic power pose.
The room truly was empty. Nothing reacted to my taunting, and I was more than surprised. I was impressed. Well played, empty room. Well played. I washed the dust from my frozen armor and walked to my entrance. A quick glance outside revealed no waiting rats or insects. Not far from my entrance was the tunnel that led into the lair. Why not?
I abandoned my path and chose a new exit.