One Moo'r Plow

Words failed to describe the glee with which I observed the behemoth messily uproot my land. Trees were ripped from the loamy soil and tossed aside, vaguely stacked as I filed their presence away for later usage. Now, in the moment, I was solely focused on the complete and utter destruction of the landscape surrounding my fields. I had imagined the act of clearing the forest to be a long, tiring one that would eat through my available time.

The concern had been addressed, scoffed at, and tossed aside in a crumpled mess as Fate decided this amused it more.

I trailed in the ancient being’s wake, the land torn asunder as I commanded it to create for available farmland. Birds rose from distant trees, disappearing into the distance as the disturbance spread. There was a faint strain about my body as I issued commands, a touch of tiredness that came despite my long slumber.

Everything had a price, I was reminded. This was not the exception. Yet for now, I was more than eager to pay it.

Wanton destruction only ceased once a yell echoed across the fields, somehow piercing the cacophony. Ishila hopped from the cart and strode across the yard, head tilted back to take in the giant.

“I saw that over the trees.” She exclaimed, eyes wide and the scent of excitement about her. “I’m assumin’ it’s your breakthrough Skill?”

While I did not quite understand the terminology she chose to use at that moment, I could piece together the context and nodded.

“Gods Above someone up there really must be pleased with ya.” The orc all but glowed as she observed the behemoth casually ripping a tree from the ground. “Summon?”

I wanted to ask how she had guessed this quickly, then realized that she had spent her life in the presence of a powerful mage.

“Insofar as I can tell, yes.” I nodded, then frowned. The energy required to both engage in conversation and commandeer that massive minotaur was now a noticeable strain. It was through my energy and will that it was held to this plane, the System whispered to me. Powerful though it undoubtedly was, it did come with rules.

“This is amazin’.” She continued. “I know the breakthrough skill everyone gets is a unique mix of class, race and some other stuff, but this? “ Her head shook in silence as Ishila gazed towards the behemoth with amazement.

A head turned towards the road showed the she was alone in her wonderment. Artyom lingered by the cart, ears flattened to his skull and tail on end. The felinid refused to approach any closer, trying to calm the horse. Gol hid at the furthest reaches of the yard, at the very edge of my notably poor vision. Although drowned out by other noises, I could almost imagine him whimpering.

Even the taur-cows were backed against the furthest fence, grunting their disapproval. It was around then that I realized I could not hear the wildlife within the forest, nor did I see any birds overhead.

The lone raven sat in its untouched tree, silently smug as it viewed the destruction that accompanied the giant’s wake.

I felt nothing as I gazed upon the behemoth’s primal form, only the sense that it would obey my every command. Yet simply because I did not experience something would not mean others were the same.

“Ishila,” I asked. “Does this invoke any feeling in you?’

“Yah.” She nodded, eyes still focused on the giant. “Sense of fear. Something absolutely overwhelming is near. Danger screaming in my ears.”

“And your not bothered by it?”

“Not in particular.” The orc shrugged. “Grew up with the same feelin’ whenever I looked am Ma’.”

That would do it.

A decision was amde, and with some faint sense of regret, I released my hold on the bond that kept the titan tethered to this world. Great red eyes turned towards me as the beast slipped free of reality’s grasp and faded away, gaze on me all the while. It left naught but ruined forest and massive, gouged hoof prints in its wake.

“So..that certainly seemed worth the effort.” I mused as we stood amidst the barren field and observed the fresh ruination.

“Never heard of someone gettin’ a disappointing’ breakthrough skill. There’s good reasons why people always chase that next level.”

Dedicated though I was to a simple life on my farm, I could begin to see the allure of new skills and levels.

“How went the trip?” I asked, steering the conversation away from such topics as we tromped back towards the farm.

“Faster then I expected. Alchemist made some rufflin’ ‘bout how long it took for the acid to be delivered to ‘im. I told him if he wanted it that bad, he could just came and got it.”

“And Raffnyk?”

“Yer human friend? He took everything we had, handed over the gold and was back to work quick as you please. In and out, no trouble at all. That other fellah though, Pert, he was lookin’ like he wanted to throw in somethin’ as we’re talkin' but got told to mind his business.”

The man just couldn’t let it go. He was still searching for a way to get back at me for whatever petty slight I inflicted on him. And sooner or later, it would come to a head. One that he would dislike.

“Anything else?”

“Ma or Pa’ will want to talk to ya soon. Just remembered. Expect them to come find you in the very near future. Dungeon’s been actin’ up more and more last few days, and they’re thinkin’ it might be time soon.”

“Time for..what exactly?” I could perhaps guess, but to hear Ishila confirm it might be better than leaping to assumptions.

“That question’s between you and them.” She grimaced. “Ma’ doesn’t seem particularly keen to share new developments with me. Kinda frustration’.”

I could imagine.

The skill had sapped a fair bit of my pep and energy at this point. Though I had maintained it for quite some time, physical exertion while using it had greatly increased my fatigue. That in and of itself was understandable. Past experience with how other skills functioned showed the same thing. Although, this drained me at an even faster pace than any other power I had called save for It Will Not Die.

More than even my new-found summon, that skill enthralled me. The ability to simply refuse death for a short time was, frankly, beyond belief. It lay dormant now, and a vague feeling stirred within that it would not be available again for a long time.

“I entrust you to take care of the horse and cart.” I nodded to Ishila as we parted ways. The last agreed, and headed off to finish up her work as I made my way toward the stack of corpses that awaited me.

Menacing in like, made awkward in death. The long, jagged corpses lay in a somewhat crooked row, the product of a hurried drag and dump. Up close, they only looked the slightest bit less horrifying than when they had been blurred shapes streaking through the half-darkness. The soldiers had picked the most intact, but even those were rent apart by incredible amounts of violence.

Their ichor stained the grass, I observed as I knelt and began to turn the corpses. The carapace that covered their bodies was jagged, bulky and flexible at the same time. It grew into what little skin could be found beneath the various wounds and overall burnt smell. This one had obviously taken an entire flurry of crossbow bolts before colliding with a sizeable fireball. Charred and burnt, it moved stiffly, limbs seized up.

What interested me most was the scythe-claws. Distinct memories of those long, hooked uni-claws piercing my hide with contemptuous ease were still fresh upon my mind. With careful motions, I pried one seized-up limb loose, brought out the knife ever-present at my belt and hacked the entire limb off.

A firm grasp on the severed forearm, I swung at the air and found it, to no continued surprise, stiff.

Much as I wanted to test the edge, I knew better than to do something as inane as pricking myself with it. There were plenty of other corpses on hand. Make-shift shortsword raised, I selected the closest one, brought the edge down on a piece of carapace and began to cut.

It went through. Eventually. Nowhere near the easy slices that had lain open my hide. Perhaps it was dulled. Through a sudden burst of violence, I acquired another claw -and attached arm- then returned to the same experiment. This one also proved fruitless. While no doubt sharp, the pale claws lacked that ceaseless edge that ade them so effective against everything they came into contact with.

Several moments spent in thought of this conundrum led me to conclude that it must have been a skill unique to the now-slain horrors.

I had known monsters also harnessed the System and reaped the benefits that came with it, yet the full implications of that had not bene considered until now. They not only wielded skills, but powerful ones. An entire species of monsters possessed the ability simply ignore armor. Clarity struck like a hammerblow as several murky subjects were made clear. People cherished and chased after levels not in blind pursuit of power for their own gain, but because of the creatures that would see them dead. This was not just a race among what one could consider the civilized races, but all beings.

Left struck by this rather obvious revelation, I found myself once more above the gathered corpses. Without sheer levels on my side, I would need more unorthodox ways of ensuring my safety. If these were what the dungeon considered fodder, I shuddered to imagine it’s more elite dwellers.

Thankfully, this was one topic I had refused to remain ignorant on, and ishila’s late-evening schooling helped me glean some insight here.

For now, however, a veritable trove of materials lay before me, ready to be stripped and made use of.

The claws, while a minor disappointment, still contained something I considered precious.

Some time later, I had several spare pots at ready, along with just-too-tight gloves stretched over my hands. Teeth grit, I held a claw in one hand and the knife in the other. With slow, deliberate movements the blade sliced off the ivory tip, and my prize ran free. Clear liquid ran in a thin stream, arced through the air and into the jug below.

The venom carried by these creatures was a scentless, deadly thing. Capable of neutralizing most conventional methods of healing, it showed a firm step in the philosophy behind these monsters. If their adversary did not fall beneath the claw, the venom would end them.

The more I cut away at these corpses, the more I studied these unnatural bodies, the more I become convinced that these horrors were not birthed, but rather made.

Only an intelligent mind could design something so focused on the express purpose of inflicting death at all costs. When I had used Blood for Blood back in the tunnel, it had not targeted a single creature, as I had intended, but rather the entire swarm. It has swept right past the monster I had focused on and to the mind that controlled them all.

There existed something up there in the darkness that puppeted and commanded these monstrosities. Saw through their eyes, adapted, and commanded their movements. A hive mind. It made them effective, I realized. When every being was expandable, that mind that oversaw the swarm could be afforded a fluidity in battle that human commanders would perhaps not have the stomach to match.

The alchemist would pay good coin for this, I wagered. Yet it might benefit everyone more if I delivered this to Raffnyk’s possession and set his resources to another task. Finding an effective antidote to counteract this would be a costly endeavor, I realized. And a small stopgap anyhow. But it would save lives. Were I wholly concerned with profit, I would not have had this discussion at all.

Still, if it was any solace, I figured the ichor would sell nearly as well. Alchemists had a weird obsession with foreign materials like it, even if no discernable use presented itself.

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