NOVEL FROG Chapter 311 - You got any more of those roast beef sandwiches?
Congratulations! You have successfully slain 11 Greater Minotaurs!
You have successfully defeated 1 Minotaur Chieftain in single combat!
You have achieved Level 56 as a Primal Adventurer!
Quickness / Finesse / Perception have each increased by 3 points, for nothing is more crucial in battle than striking your foes before they can counter.
Eric gave whoop and when his final shot sent the minotaur titan crashing to the ground with not one but two blazing hot arrows piercing its jugular while Jack’s javelin pierced its heart and Steve’s Obsidian Flame blasted through its skull.
“Three way epic kill!” The three of them cheered as one, because it was just one of those perfect moments.
And if Eric was moving a bit faster and confidently than ever before, his movements more coordinated, his awareness of the environment even more acute, that was the result of him blossoming into his own potential, and not the System’s silvery tendrils directly infecting his body and soul. Even if his interface did still give him courtesy head’s up, so he could appreciate just how well he was coming along.
Hell Vines is now Rank 9.
You have achieved Rank 22 with all bows!
Heat Surge is now Rank 14 as not even a Minotaur Chieftan can resist your added affinity with the essence of Flame!
Even if Eric was feeling a bit salty that he had missed out on the 200 first-achiever feat for Finesse, he was still quite pleased with his steady growth, slowly but surely getting ever closer to his goals. Because even if he was head and shoulders above most classers his level, he had been profoundly humbled by both his mother and by his Gold tier cultivation master. A pair of unspeakably powerful women who had made it painfully clear in their own ways that he had only taken the very first steps along his cultivation and ascension journeys. He needed to do everything he could to continuously push himself, and to make the most of fortuitous encounters, momentum, and his own sweat and tears if he wished to truly be worthy of his own potential.
Because it ultimately didn’t matter how he compared with White tier cultivators struggling in a newly ascended world. What mattered was how he would compare to elite Bronze in the upcoming years who all enjoyed the benefits of clans with countless centuries devising the best paths forward for their chosen scions, with fortunes spent in spiritual treasures, arranged fortuitous encounters, and choice selected titles all being used to open a path for the true elites of any given clan to blossom to their ultimate potential.
Compared to them… Eric shook his head, knowing he was still just taking his first baby steps, and had so much farther to go.
His class was already such a hodgepodge of fortuitous encounters and eclectic combinations without any underlying theme that he hadn’t even had the option to infuse his path, let alone change his class, at Level 50. And for all that at the time of using his Tier 2 pod, he had basically had the possibility of unlimited potential before him… he knew in his gut that he needed to get pretty much every skill he valued to at least the Adept level, a whopping level 30, before even thinking about anything like advancement or ascension to Bronze. Hell, he suspected that was the bare minimum that he needed to achieve before he even hit level 100, and that was with him having EVERY intention of embracing Core infusion just as he had before, doing his utmost to unlock whatever options there might be, so long as he could continue to ascend without limit.
His thoughts were racing, even as he passed out drinks to his cheering friends, knowing that he’d not only have to do a far better job of clearly defining his path, if that was even possible, but also get every spell he had cobbled together as well as get most of his combat skills to Level 30 or better, or he’d be insulting his own potential in ways from which there would be no going back.
“And I’ll bet that also includes every essence skill as well,” he said with a rueful chuckle, earning a strange look from Steve.
“What was that, Eric?”
“Nothing, buddy. And that was some mighty fine fireball throwing!” Eric quickly commended, giving Steve’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “And don’t think I didn’t catch how you went from barely controlling those balls with our first encounter to actually getting them to curve around the Hell Vines and strike those assholes right in the face!”
Steve, now standing upright with a sheepish smile and looking a hell of a lot better save for a single streak of silver in his otherwise full mane of once more glossy hair, chuckled warmly, his eyes twinkling.
“Damn right I did. I actually leveled up midway through the battle and I got a skill evolution!”
“Steve, the man!” A whooping Jack high-fived his friend.
“Damn straight!” Steve said with a wide grin. “Which means that my brain fog cleared, my mana pools reset, and injuries near instantly healed with what I guess was an infusion of excess potency.” He gave a rueful chuckle. “Even if I must have torn free a couple months of my life there, at the end… I’m not going to sweat it. Because adventurers live forever, right?”
Eric shrugged thoughtfully. “I’m halfway certain that rumor started because the pods reset the ages of those with the potential for a pristine configurations back to their ideal 18-year-old body. But fuck it! As long as we can steadily raise our Vitality every level, why the hell can’t we live forever?”
“Right on! Youth forever!” Jack crowed.
Steve smirked. “Yeah. I’ll definitely be taking care of that Vitality stat. Now I just have a single lock of silver hair to go with my handsome chiseled features.”
Eric gave him a heartfelt smile, gently clapping his shoulder. “Trust me, my friend. It could be far, far worse.”
Steve paled, seeing something in Eric’s gaze. “Shit. You know exactly what I mean.”
“I do.”
“Which means you’ve walked this walk, even if it doesn’t show at all for you.”
Eric smirked, flicking his bone bow. “Pretty much, yeah.”
“Which means you’re no simple archer.”
Eric affected an innocent expression. “Moi?”
Steve rolled his eyes. “Come on, man. Like, let’s look at those blazing twenty-foot tall trees of whipping vines made of thorns and living flame.”
Eric winked, tapping his blank scroll prop. “I’m pinning that on my blank scroll prop.”
Steven scowled. “Who wants to bet that’s not actually an artifact tier scroll?”
Emily smirked, rubbing her six foot staff fondly. “Considering that you soul-bound a book of dark magic deliciousness and my family bought me this sweet Ice Princess artifact, and that’s all that’s allowing either of us to rock these Advanced tier classes and not be stuck running piss-poor White-tier delves as Conscripts? Not a chance.”
Steve chuckled. “Okay, Eric. We love your scroll, whether prop or artifact. You got any more of those roast beef sandwiches? Oh fuck, yeah. You’re the best!”
“I know,” Eric said with a smile, taking care of his friend then handing Jack a Reuben and the girls egg and chicken salad sandwiches respectively. “These I got at the buffet. Won’t boost Soul Reserves, since Elves don’t follow that path, but it’s meaty deliciousness nonetheless!”
Jack took a big bite of his prize. “Fucking epic! So, the elves aren’t all animal-loving vegans?”
Eric snorted. “Certainly this half-elf loves animals… in his belly!” He smirked at the four very curious stares being sent his way, probably because he had just effectively admitted to his own heritage. “But to be fair, a lot of elves really are into whole grains and sourdoughs. Lots of heritage flours like buckwheat, durum, spelt, you name it. They make some damn fine pastries and you’ll happily find that they don’t have that teeth grating jittery sugar rush that processed food normally gives you.”
“Because they use magical flour to make magically delicious and nutritious tasty treats?” Yuki quipped, earning an eye-roll from Emily.
Eric nodded. “Pretty much, yeah. I think that’s really what it boils down to. Magical Sylvan baking professions. And my sister loves pastries, noodles and salads, and the whole vegetarian lifestyle. And anything more than a tiny serving of meat actually gives her bad cramps. But me? I’m all about the carnivore diet… as long as there’s chocolate in there somewhere.”
“Meat and chocolate,” Jack said with a sigh. “A man after my own heart.”
Eric laughed. “Awesome. Next time we delve, I’m bringing all the chocolate pastries I can grab, and I know just the territory to get them from. But for now? I think we got some fresh minotaurs to hunt down.”
And Eric counted it a win that no one pointed out how unlikely it would be that they’d ever delve as a group again. Instead what he received was good-natured laughter and ribbing that turned to genuine appreciation when Flesh Sculptor near effortlessly forged a double wheel-stretcher of leather and bone that Jack assured didn’t look icky, rather badass, that allowed them to place a still-groaning Ron and comatose Richard on it without jostling them at all, balanced enough for any one of them to easily wheel the pair in the middle of the group as they prepared to roll out. Eric took point, Jack covered their rear, and they quickly moved out from the ruins of their doomed fort that did nothing but invite ever greater swarms of minotaurs their way.
Steve sighed when they hit the centralmost passageway they had voted on taking, intending on leaving what they hoped was, in fact, the central chamber for good. “It’s almost like there’s a tower defense option for this dungeon. But sure as shit, our tower couldn’t crack it.”
Eric nodded. “Who knows? You could be right.” He then gazed down at their wounded party members. “But considering the state of a third of our force, I think we’re better off taking the maze-solving, boss-killing option for completion.”
Steve smirked. “True. But the levels were sweet.”
“But totally not worth it, if one of us doesn’t make it,” Emily noted, gazing down at her beau.
Steve quickly nodded. “Totally agree. Alright, then. Lead us on, noble half-elf scion of a lost ancient Atlantean civilization.”
Eric smirked. “Damn right, and you sure as heck are not getting in with that attitude.”
Jack’s eyes widened. “Bullshit! You are not going to tell me that Atlantis is actually some ancient elven city, are you? Because if you were… I totally want to go there.”
Eric laughed. “I’m afraid not. But if you guys are good, I just might show you where you can set up a base of operations promising endless delves from level 5 to Bronze tier absurdity, with Tier 2 ascension pods to assure yourselves the absolute best Level 50 class options you could hope for.”
Yuki’s eyes grew round as saucers. “You’re shitting me!”
Eric raised his hand. “Scout’s honor. Twelve endless tier delves. Even if there are bosses to overcome every level down. And a Tier 2 ascension pod means countless powerful class options and synergisms await you that aren’t corrupted by Goblin bullshit. So if you can hold off leveling before you hit level fifty, by all means do so. My understanding is that that’s the final sweet spot where you can enjoy a class evolution before level 100, or Bronze tier ascension.”
Jack whistled. “Are you serious? Shit… look at his face. This cat’s actually for real!”
Yuki bit her lip, looking vulnerable in a way Eric wouldn’t have expected from her. “Are you sure, Jack? I… I want to believe it too much to get a read on this.”
Jack’s nod was oddly solemn. His expression was no longer that of a goofy college-age kid shooting the shit with Eric, but instead that of a survivor who’s seen the ugliest that humanity has to offer.
“Yeah. Believe it or not, Yuki, he’s actually for real.”
Eric blinked, pretending he wasn’t feeling a surge of anxiety as the most flippant member of their crew turned out to be the one detecting truth from falsehood. “Shit, it’s you? I was sure it was Richard serving as your de-facto Paladin truth-teller. Yuki as well.”
Yuki’s smirk hardened. “Exactly.”
Jack chuckled. “Yeah, well, I needed to develop a sharp eye not just for rats and snipers but all around bullshit, just trying to survive under Orc occupation in Gilton. And honestly, Yuki’s every bit as good at reading people as I am. So if we both agree on something… But our Richard’s an idealist. Such a good-natured goofball that I think he actually believes all his father’s speeches, not even realizing it’s all puff-pieces for the rubes. And since he’s such a boy scout, his dad’s happy to have him keep the rose-colored glasses on. Because what politician wouldn’t want to have such an upstanding idealist of a son? Especially if there’s an older brother around somewhere who understands how things really work.”
Emily winced. “True, sadly. He was an idealist since the first day we met in college, and I love him for it. Which meant that Sylvis’s betrayal hit him pretty damn hard.”
“Especially since I could vouch for it,” Jack said, gazing solemnly at Eric. “Because whether or not there’s another spin to it, you genuinely believe every word you told us.”
Eric was going to respond, assuring Jack that there was no other interpretation or ‘spin’… before freezing stock still, holding up a clenched fist, peering hard down the T-section at the end of the giant corridor they were now traversing along.
“Game faces, people! Trouble’s coming!”