Chapter 09

Michael woke up, worked out, ate, stretched and was in his truck in less than thirty minutes.

The drive back to the Trail was uneventful, as usual, driving across flat terrain with the truck’s old AC working overtime to compensate for the oppressive summer heat. On the way there, Michael had plenty of time to think, having decided not to put on any music or listen to any podcast so that his mind could be sharper and less tired while fighting later. Thinking led to many considerations, thoughts about how his mana grew and why, about his skills, about how to improve his forms and his chances in the dungeon, and about what to do with his life. His thoughts went to his family and old college friends, from before he was forced to drop out and disappear from the face of his town with his tail between his legs.

Perhaps one day he could come back, to his parents and especially to his sister, no longer a defeated man but a self-made man, the true American dream even though America these days had long run out of dreams to give to its people. With magic, it could be different, but a whole set of dangers that were alien to him even a week ago had appeared on the horizon, going from the risk of becoming the first vivisection experiment in the last decade (he hoped), to being abducted by the CIA, to even just being outed as a freak and becoming unable to live life to his terms anymore. All real dangers, and he didn’t even know whether there were others like him or not, which if it was the case would add even more worries to his plate.

He forced his mind to more pleasant shores. Thinking about karate from yesterday, he realized that his [Fast Reflexes] skill only enhanced his body’s natural reactions, the so-called lizard brain reflexes, and did not do anything to speed up thoughts or the way he processed information outside of danger and automated reactions. It made sense, in a way, although he was a little disappointed with that. He still thought he could make this faster reaction speed work with [Distortion Field], provided he could find a way to somehow make the use of the latter skill a learned reflex and therefore automatic. Then it would benefit from the faster reflexes, possibly saving his life.

A plan quickly formed in his mind: he would clear the first room and then remain there for as long as possible, making use of the fact that time did not flow outside the dungeon at the same speed as it did inside, and that the plentiful mana regeneration of even the first room would allow him to train almost indefinitely if he took rests. Certainly, he had no intention of spending coins, but he had of course brought them all with him in case he needed a quick boost to his magic.

When he finally arrived he saw that there was another car he had never seen before, parked at his usual spot close to the Trail where he hiked to the dungeon. It was the first time he had seen anyone here, as the spot was quite secluded and not well-known. He himself had only found it after a long session of Google Maps, searching for the best place to park his truck to access the dungeon as quickly as possible.

Oh well. It’s summer, there must be a lot of people walking the trail. It’s inevitable that I will meet people on the way there.

A quick hike that still felt interminably long, and he was in the dungeon once again. His lights were up and ready, more and more powerful than before, and he felt ready for a fight.

It’s goblins again. But it’s not one… not two… shit, it’s three of them this time. The dungeon upped the danger again! Third delve, three times the enemies.

He quickly scattered the lights across the room, throwing them to the far corners. He had reinforced them with rubber so that they would not break, learning from his earlier mistakes and improving his gear accordingly. The room was soon lit up to almost daylight, and the dance began.

Michael still had his gun, but this time it was resting its comfortable weight in its holster. Instead, his equipment was dagger and shield, and he was determined to clear the room with only those two items. In fact, he wanted to favour the dagger as much as possible and only use the shield if he really needed it, hoping to never have to use [Distortion Field], at least for the first fight. He had watched some videos, and had an idea how to use the dagger, but nothing beat real world practice and the dungeon was sure to reward his strategy with more loot.

The closest goblin had reached him by the time Michael was ready, and tried to punch him in the face. Despite there being more of them, their moves were still slow and telegraphed, and Michael easily blocked the blow with his forearm. The block came even better than he had hoped, thanks to him working out and even more so thanks to his conditioning. He felt something give, and retaliated immediately while the goblin was still reeling with pain with a quick stab to its neck, nicking arteries and rending flesh with the dagger’s pristine edge, drawing foul blood. The goblin howled in pain, but soon the blood loss was too much and it stumbled to the ground, slowly bleeding out.

Michael turned its attention to the other two goblins, and an idea came to mind. He would only kill one of them, keeping the other for his training. Thus, he had to be careful as he danced around them, but he was nimbler and quicker on his feet than he had ever been, topped off with magic and well-rested, and it was much easier work than he thought it would be. Still, using a dagger was not easy.

There were not many openings to stab at the goblin due to the short reach of the weapon and Michael’s lack of experience. He mostly held it in a reverse grip, slashing whenever he bought himself an opening either with a block or with his shield. The goblin he chose to kill was racking up injuries that oozed dark and foul blood, but it was not going down, most of the cuts too shallow to kill it, forcing the dance to continue for much longer than Michael had intended. The other goblin was also unharmed and dangerous, although it did feel much less dangerous than the first time around, knowing that the worst it could do was break a bone that would take a few minutes and some mana to heal. True, the pain was bad, but it was not a life-threatening thing.

Five minutes later the second goblin fell. Michael healed himself then, feeling the exhaustion of a long battle starting to diminish his ability to fight. Then he discarded the dagger and shield and, while still carefully keeping a distance from the goblin, took a deep breath. The goblin was by no means a shambling zombie, instead able to walk on the uneven terrain as if it was flat, but it was not very fast and Michael had gotten used to the terrain himself, almost to the point where he felt he was no longer at a disadvantage. Being taller than the monster allowed him to keep it at a distance by just walking, and he knew he could take his time to study his enemy.

It’s no use wasting any more time, he thought after he gathered his wits. This is going to hurt.

He did the unthinkable. He walked right at the goblin, entering strike range with his hands down to his side as if he had no intention of defending himself. Which he didn’t, at least not with his arms. The goblin, all too eager to follow along with his suicide plan, swung at him, clocking his square in the chest. Moments later, but definitely too late, a small swirling orb of dark energies appeared and popped like a soap bubble.

Despite having gotten the wind almost knocked out of him, and he had to thank Phillip and his conditioning sessions otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to tank the hit at all, Michael stepped back and healed himself before he could be clobbered to death.

Clearly too slow.

Then he did it again. This time he was hit in the face. It hurt, a lot.

Then again. This time he managed to stop the punch with one of his bubbles, but the aim was off and the punch was repelled upwards, hitting Michael in the chin.

I think it broke something. Perhaps a tooth.

It took a while to heal from that. All while walking in circles around the goblin, keeping his distance.

But this is good training.

It went on for hours. It was only when Michael saw that his portable lights were getting low on battery did he stop. He pulled out his gun, exhausted, and executed the goblin before slumping down on the ground. He held in a bitter laugh when he saw the meagre loot the dungeon offered him: five copper coins.

Deserved, for making it waste its time. Still, the training paid off.

He was not yet at the point where he could cast the sphere unconsciously, but the skill was starting to benefit from his enhanced reflexes, becoming faster to cast and easier to direct. His brain had gotten used to it, and it almost always appeared right where it was needed rather than being off by some margin, reducing the amount of conscious thought needed to summon the sphere to almost nothing. Almost.

Next time I’ll get it to zero. A true reflex. But for now, five minutes of happiness for my gains.

There had been a message, towards the end of the training session, which had been very welcome. Compared to making the [Distortion Field] an almost automated reflex, this was perhaps even better, although it was hard to say.

It was a while before Michael felt ready to challenge the second room. That’s the downside of training so hard in the first room. Now I can’t wait to go home and take a long bath.

Resolving himself to finish this off as quickly as possible, even at the cost of getting less loot, he crossed the threshold to the second room and was greeted by the usual message.

This time there were six of them. Not fun, but not yet bad enough that I need to pull my gun.

Still, he resolved himself to clear the room as quickly as possible with every other tool he had. Using his shield, the distortion field and the dagger, it was only a couple of minutes before he finished off the last remaining goblin with a very satisfying [Shield Bash], courtesy of the third level of [Distortion Field]. Using the skill felt strange, as if an invisible force picked him up and propelled him against the goblin, shield first. But seeing the monster take off flying and splatter against the wall before disappearing in motes of mana had been satisfying.

The loot wasn’t bad either. Probably a reward for being quick, or at least quicker than I was before. He thought, stifling a laugh as he imagined the disembodied voice of the dungeon being forced to suffer through all the many boring hours of him walking around the single goblin in the first room.

20 Copper and a clearly non-magical coin. Looks roman, could be Greek? Old Dave will like it. Well then, onto the boss room we go.