Climbing the Ranks - Chapter 27 preview (Patreon)

Some scrambling around once he finished using the last of the refined energy in his body allowed Arthur to find the parang that Budo had dropped. He pulled it along with him as he headed for another spot further along the wall, searching for a way back up. The cliff face was more steep than sheer, and with the amount of greenery growing off it, he could probably climb it.

If he wasn’t, you know, sporting a bleeding wound. On the other hand…

“This is a stupid idea,” Arthur muttered to himself when he had gotten far enough away from the smell of blood and terror of his initial fight that he felt safe stopping. Stopping and climbing that is.

He eyed the cliff face, picking out the spots he needed to climb on and then for a few seconds, juggled the parang. Back of pants… nah. Front of pants, even more of a no. Slung through the back of his clothing or tied off? He didn’t have enough scraps to do it that way. In the end, he settled for putting it in his mouth, blunt side tonguewise before he began the process of climbing.

Focus on legs, not hands. He couldn’t reach very far, not with the wound in his side. In fact, he was better just using his uninjured side and pushing with his legs to head upwards rather than trying to manhandle his way upwards like he was used to doing.

His target was a small overhung part of the ledge, jutting outwards due to the remnants of a big tree that had fallen but whose roots still hung on tenaciously. The entire thing was haphazardly grown from the side, with smaller plants jutting form the corners that it offered quite a bit of shade from those casting a cursory glance up. And the additional tree trunks and branches would stop monsters from approaching him easily.

More importantly, it would make it impossible for the majority of monsters he knew that were on the first floor of the Tower to approach him.

The only problem being… getting there.

Slowly he climbed, wincing with stretch, each time he pushed with his feet. The soil underneath his fingers were crumbly and only slightly moist, the lack of rain the last few days making itself all too apparent. He had to dig his feet in hard to push upwards, his footing always moments away from giving way.

Halfway upwards, his concerns played out.

Pushing with his right foot as he began to reach for another handhold, the roots holding the earth shut let go, sending him tumbling downwards. He fell, the hilt of the parang bouncing off his own arm and the side of the cliff, making his jaw ache and cutting a little into his mouth. He scrambled for a second, ignoring the shooting pain in his side as he tried and managed to grab hold of an upcropping of rock.

Jerking to a stop, holding on with his hand, side burst open and warm as his tender, still healing wound poured fresh blood down his body. He panted harshly, the iron tang of blood on his lips, even as he scrambled with his hanging foot for a stable point.

Eventually, he found one. Not very stable, but good enough that he was able to put more weight onto it. He hung on, wheezing around the pulsing pain in his side and the blade clutched in his mouth. Adrenaline shot through him, making moving hard but at least dulling the pain.

Control was hard, but Arthur managed to find another foothold, a more stable one via feel more than sight. Then, carefully, he levered himself upwards again.

He leaned his forehead against the cold earth for a second, before Arthur shook his aching exhaustion off. The adrenaline of nearly falling and the pain was giving him strength now, but when it faded, he would be even worse off.

No time then to take this as carefully as before.

He reached down carefully, gripping the parang in one hand. He extracted it from his mouth carefully, slipping it pass him and then stabbing upwards. Using the blade as a firmer handhold, he began to push onwards, his destination a bare twenty feet away.

Stab, push, get new handhold or foothold. Extract parang, push, find new holds. Pull upwards. Spit and curse, whimper and push. Look for new handholds and footholds. Find them. Push and reach. Stab and pull. New foothold.

Move.

Step by step, inching his way up, Arthur managed to make his way to the outcropping, leaving a trail of blood behind him. Noisy ants stopped by the bloody soil, testing and tasting before picking up pieces to bring back. Catterpillars searched the earth for carrion and beetles crawled across his face, even as Arthur kept moving.

Until, finally, he was there. A last surge of energy had him sprawled over the edge of the outcropping, legs dangling over the side. It took almost all his energy to flip over before the pain and exhaustion caught up with him, sending him into uneasy slumber.

***

Hours later he woke, wiping at his face and wincing at his side. Something sharp, twisty was paining him in his torso. He searched for it for a second, fingers brushing against hard carapaces. Quick movements sent the damn ants that been attempting to extract blood and flesh away and leaving behind itchiness and pain.

Another moment and Arthur managed to get his feet over the ledge and himself propped up against the wall. He had been lucky he had not rolled over while asleep, but it seemed his body was too exhausted to even consider that much movement.

Luck.

Now, head leaning against the wall, he touched the puffy and red sides and winced. Some degree of inflammation there. Minor toxins mixed in there from the damn ants. None of it great for his continued healing.

Yet he had no time to worry about that. He had no refined energy to benefit his body, so he had to concentrate instead of cultivating. Draw in Tower Energy so that he could fill his core and then refine it. Only when he had done that could be begin healing himself.

No time to waste then.

Settled in as best he could and having adjusted the leaves and branches to hide himself from prying eyes, Arthur closed his eyes and began the process of pulling tower energy through his body, slipping it into core and storing it away. It was going to take a while to get enough energy to refine, but it had to be done.

He couldn’t exactly walk around with a hole in his side.