NOVEL WEB Life 3 - Chapter 6
One year. It's been one year since I broke out of my Cyst. The Auvani village and I... I became an integral part of the Auvani village. A productive member of society. I even went out on hunts with Rushagal and Marion from time to time. We needed to "power level" our Priestess/Nurse. I had capped my Skills at the ridiculous level I could. Since I wasn't fighting, I wasn't leveling up either. I did increase my Class level to fifteen though. But it was all fine and dandy. I learned how levels were calculated. One would add the "racial" level with the "Class" level as they went hand in hand. I would be level thirty, for example. Leveling up was an endeavor that took years. Not everyone had the "times a hundred" experience bonus for size differences like me.
Not all herbivore lagomorphs had a way to kickstart their murder spree either.
I also learned that humans were a cheat. A rabbit gained 1 Attribute every 3 levels, 2 Skill points per level, a meager amount of HP, and that was it. Humans gained 1 Attribute per level, 4 Skills per level, and a perk every third level. They also were able to spend 2 Skill points to purchase new Skills out of nowhere. A human with a bank of Skill points could become a specialist in a field instantaneously. Some Skills had requirements you needed to meet before you could purchase them either.
Skills had ranks and they grew as the went up the ranks. From one to nine it was novice. It was a crappy rank where you barely scraped the basics of the Skill. Then Apprentice from ten to twenty-four. Twenty-five to forty-nine was the Journeyman ranks. Fifty to seventy-nine was Master Finally, eighty and above were the Grandmaster ranks. For each rank, the number of Skill points and effort required to raise a Skill increased by one. In total, a person with three hundred and nineteen Skill Points burning a hole in their pockets could be a Grandmaster 100 in one thing. Not many were.
Marion had finally learned healing magic. Turns out she had zero Magic because her physical Attributes added up to thirty-one. It took me the good part of a month to convince her she needed to invest in the Attribute and she begrudgingly did so. The worst part was to invent signals for all the details of the System. I got a perk for my efforts.
You gained the Linguist [Sign Language] (rare) perk. You learn sign languages 20% faster.
You gained the Sign Language (rabbit, rare) Skill at the rank Journeyman 35.
Achievement: Develop a new sign language.
While I couldn't RAISE a Skill above novice 9, I could GAIN Skills already past that roadblock. Since there was nothing I could do about that, I resigned myself to be less than mediocre in everything I did. But it was the System's way to recognize we developed a full language. The pets were even answering to some hand gestures by the kids.
My final achievement was to convince the people to slaughter and eat some rabbits. After teaching the rangers how to recognize pregnant females - and giving to them the convenient explanation that my wrath twenty-something years ago was caused by the hunter that tortured and murdered my pregnant mother - and how to husband the penned rabbits, the tribe gained a source of lean protein. The lean part meant nothing because they had a fat deficiency. I instituted a rite to kill the rabbits without pain. A stab on the base of the cranium, severing the spine and destroying the cerebellum. The pelts were to be treated and worn with honor.
While I was a rabbit and my post-awakening rage was because they were over-hunting, I felt detached toward my beast brethren. The humans had a resource they could use if done responsibly. I shouldn't be surprised but I was when the System started to offer "Livestock Farmer" and "Rabbit Rancher" professions. Hint: to unlock the latter, one needed to have Sign Language (rabbit, rare) on the Apprentice levels. But "Livestock Farmer" had Skills that helped domesticate other creatures.
Alas, everything in life was doomed to end. We were going on with our lives when the scouts came running into the village.
"They are coming," one of them cried between ragged breaths. "The Khor-Auvani tribe is coming. They have thirty warriors led by Pzutynaar the Scourge of Bears."
If I ever heard a more fitting name for a barbarian, I honestly don't remember. But the village behaved like an anthill that was kicked. Mothers called their children inside. The rabbit pets followed their masters. The scouts sounded birdcalls to call back the hunters.
The sound of a stampede came from the eastern forest, and the Khor-Auvani came out of the treeline. The lead warrior was a man with a copper great ax wearing a bear pelt. The guy would've towered over Gramps Mytrhas in his prime.
Speaking of the relic, the old man was in front to receive the war party.
"Young Pzutynaar, to what do we owe the visit?" Gramps asked.
"I'm King Pzutynaar, old man. All I see is my domain," The Scourge of Bears spat back. "You will kneel and serve me."
He wouldn't be the last conqueror that tried to gain all with brute force. But definitely was my personal first. I would've rolled my eyes if I could. Instead, I just blinked. Marion commented once that I blink too much. The other rabbits just use their nictating membranes. But having Pzutynaar become the liege would mean the end of the rabbits. I bet these (even more) savages wouldn't care to leave livestock alive to breed.
"I'm too old, young Pzutynaar. I'm afraid that if I knelt I wouldn't be able to get up without help. I beg you to forgive this old sack of bones."
It pained my heart. I closed my eyes and remembered Greybeard, his mighty and developed corpse, drawing the javelin back to murder me. Funny how that creates a bond. When both sides live to tell the tale, that is.
"Maybe I should alleviate the village of the burden of feeding you, sack of bones," Pzutynaar hollered and bellowed as he guffawed. His barbarians laughed with him. "But I am willing to accept tribute. It came to my attention that you have a creature that's called the 'Great White One', a guardian of the forest. I want you to sacrifice it and give me its flesh so I can eat and add its power to mine."
Granny tried to shove me with her feet. I squeaked in protest. Every eye fell on me.
"There it is. Now bring it to me," The savage bear-wrestling King demanded haughtily.
I stood on my rear paws and gesticulated,
I was the Guardian of Carerbannog. The murder bunny. My build was entirely focused on killing big dumb humans with big dumb weapons. And if it was a choice of dying or dying, I would go down fighting. I vowed to myself. I would take at least one arm.
"Great One, NO!" Grandma cried as if I had pierced her heart. "You cannot."
Granny exchanged a glance with Gramps. The two village elders had a conversation without words. Finally, Gramps stretched his arched back and for a brief moment, the majesty I saw in Greybeard the Terror of Rabbits returned. He met my gaze and I didn't flinch. He nodded.
"The Great One said that to devour him, you must first defeat him in ritual combat, King Pzutynaar," Gramps said, being diplomatic. He turned around in an angle where Pzutynaar couldn't see him and winked.
He knew. Of course. He was there when I slaughtered his hunters.
But Pzutynaar the Bully of Villages was amused. He laughed. "Me, duel against a RODENT?" He screamed. "Are you senile, old man?"
Greybeard stared back. "Why? Are you afraid to die to a rodent? is the great King Pzutynaar, Scourge of Bears, one to back down from a challenge? Well, let me tell you. The Great White One is our village guardian as well as the forest's. He is a mighty divine beast. Killing him will bring the warrior great glory, but the Gods demand such combat to be a rite. Can you believe the Boon the gods will bestow, the GLORY of killing a sacred beast? I shall tell you.
"The rules of the combat are as follow. You'll step inside our punishment pit, wielding only your great ax. No armor, no clothes. The Great White One will enter the pit and only one shall walk out. Should you fail to come out alive, may the Gods have mercy on your soul."
Pzutynaar stared down on Greybeard. The old warrior didn't back off. "When I come out of that pit, I'm going to kill the men and take the women as mine. Nobody mocks me."
Then he started to strip down on the spot. He drove his great ax on the ground, the haft sticking up. Then he removed his furs and exposed his body and all his... savage prowess. Color me impressed. I saw some women blushing.
I bounced forward and up the rooftops. One of the savages with Pzutynaar shouted, "It is going to escape!" To which I gave up on reaching the pen and went straight for the guy. The savages were laughing and I went for the guy's throat in a straight dive from a roof. One bite. I jumped away and back to the roof already spending my Exp.
You killed level 52 Barbarian. You gained 2,704,000 Exp (27,040 Base x 10,000 x 0.0001 x 100 Size Bonus).
You reached Guardian of Caerbannog (unique, racial) level 16.
You gained 2 HP.
You gained 2 Attribute Points.
You gained 4 Skill Points.
You gained a Perk.
Killing him might have shown one of my moves, but allowed me to gauge how dangerous this King was. Very. I couldn't spend anything but the perk, and I knew just what to select.
You gained the Home Ground Defense (rare): Halve all damage received when defending your home. Your defensive Skills are considered a rank above when fighting to defend your home.
Maybe that was the edge I needed to survive another day. My defensive Skills would soar two ranks, to the Journeyman levels with this. Maybe not. I jumped from roof to roof and pounced from the fence on a pole in the punishment pen. Then I growled my challenge.
"I'm going to enjoy this," the savage self-proclaimed King said.
He entered, swinging his ax and stomping the mud. We were in the rainy season, and the punishment pen would easily double as a pig pen. If we had pigs. We didn't.
"Come, Rodent. Taste my ax."
A frontal assault wouldn't do. I jumped from pole to pole, squeaking, and mocking him. Between the twigs of the fence, everyone watched. Somersaults and backflips. If I had any Skills related to jumping in my profession to unlock, they didn't show up.
"Fight me like a man!" He shouted, irritated.
Now was the moment. I jumped to the fence and from there I dashed over the twigs and jumped over him. When I was above the barbarian, I sprayed him.
"You dare PISS on me? You are dead, beast!"
He was... glowing red? The veins in his neck were popped up, and so were the ones on his temple. Pzutynaar rushed to the pole like a Spanish bull being tortured in an arena. The ax came in a horizontal swing. I jumped toward the ax and rotated my body to get above it, kicking the blade and leaping on the barbarian's shoulder. I felt a sharp pain.
Pzutynaar attacked with Great Swing. You lost 20 HP. You have a severed leg. You are bleeding.
He cut off my right leg. The savage King must've adjusted his ax angle at the last moment. I bit his arm while I climbed up. I just nicked his skin. I limped over his shoulder and to his back. I bit his deltoid once more on the way, but no critical hit.
Pzutynaar started to demolish the punishment logs, showering splinters as his copper ax smashed on the wood, any pretense of sharpness long gone. I felt weak and my leg stump was burning. I reached for his neck and started to peck.
I made tiny pricks on his skin, but after twenty bites there was no critical hit. Which would be a mathematical impossibility. The barbarian wasn't even registering my bites, busy destroying the pen and throwing mud and wood everywhere. He was smashing the log stumps with his former-ax-now-a-mallet.
There was only one answer. This red aura made him immune to critical hits. There were several abilities like that in fiction and RPG. Damn. My show of killing his subordinate was my doom. But If I hadn't halved the damage, I would be dead anyway. He only needed to graze me once.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I wouldn't die like that! I lost eight HP before the bleeding debuff ended. Maybe I would be dead without Staunch. Maybe. I frantically pecked at his neck but nothing happened. I was about to despair when I noticed his red aura was becoming faint. That reinvigorated me and I bit his neck more and more. Finally, it faded. Ten bites landed in seconds, but the barbarian only laughed.
"Little one, I have a unique Perk that makes me immune to beheading. I saw your trick with Bigornga and it won't work on me!"
Yeah. Fuck you, cheater.
But I had more tricks on my sleeve. I allowed myself to slide down his back while he bellowed and reached his thigh. Then I bit with all my speed, as fast as I could. He felt a sharp pain and my efforts were rewarded with a shower of blood as my vorpal bite severed his femur. I didn't stop to gloat. If this guy was as tough as I thought, he could very well regrow legs. So I went for his source of power. King Pzutynaar was falling as I crawled over his pelvic bone to his crotch and mercilessly vorpalized his prowess. Eggs AND bacon.
Then he fell over me pinning me in the mud because my luck sucked.
Pzutynaar crushed you with Body Slam. You lost 15 HP. You have -12 HP. You are severely wounded. Endurance test... passed. You have internal bleeding.
I was conscious, on my back, and partially pinned in the mud. I could feel the guy's crotch bleeding over me, the taste of blood and mud seeping in my mouth. Fun fact, I was strong enough to push him off of me if I were in any condition to do so. But at least I could move. So move I did and reached his other leg. I went for it as if eating human flesh would make me whole again. Spoiler alert, it didn't.
But I claimed his other leg as my vorpal bite severed it in a flash of light. It never did so.
You gained the perk Last Strike (very rare). When below 0 HP, your attacks' critical range triples at the cost of your life.
You killed Pzutynaar level 72 Barbarian King. You gained 17,712,000 Exp (59,040 Base x 10,000 x 0.0001 x 100 Size Bonus x 3 Class Rank Bonus).
EMERGENCY MEASURE. USER NEAR DEATH. AUTO-ALLOCATING ALL ASSETS.
You reached Guardian of Caerbannog (unique, racial) level 18.
You gained 4 HP.
You gained 8 Skill Points. POINTS AUTO ALLOCATED.
You gained the Weaving (common) Skill rank novice 9.
You gained the Horseback Riding (common) Skill rank novice 3.
You gained 4 Attribute points. POINTS AUTO ALLOCATED.
You gained a perk.
You gained the Indomitable (rare) perk. You only die when you reach 2*Endurance negative Hitpoints.
Oh, Classes had ranks. And where the fuck were my Attribute Points going? Fucking curses. But with four HP and a wider margin before death...
You are drowning. You lost 2 HP.
You are bleeding. You lost 2 HP.
You have -12 HP.
... I might not make it, even with all that.
You are drowning. You lost 2 HP.
You are bleeding. You lost 2 HP.
You have -16 HP.
Fuck. Someone get me out of here!!!
I heard the ground shaking. Crawling from beneath Pzutynaar's body, I saw that the villagers were slaughtering his retainers. Marion lied on the ground next to the fence gate, bleeding. Her eyes were unfocused and lifeless. I saw a throwing ax haft sticking out from her back. She must've rushed to aid me. Grandpa Graybeard shouted and impaled a barbarian with his javelin, only to take a dagger to the throat next.
You are bleeding. You lost 2 HP.
You died.
Fuck. Not again.