Grand Game 352: Spore Hunt (Patreon)

Day Sixteen in Draven’s Reach

You have failed to detect an unknown entity.

At the Adjudicator’s message, I paused. Taking a step back, a dozen to the left, then one more forward, I waited.

Two seconds passed.

But no further Game message arrived.

Advancing a single step, I waited anew. When I was sure I would receive no other alerts, I took a third probing step, then another, and another, until...

You have failed to detect an unknown entity.

That confirms it, I thought. I’d pinpointed the last spore.

Striding forward to what I judged to be the center of the circle of ‘failed’ detection messages, I bent down and drove a stake into the ground.

That’s the last of them, I thought, wondering what the spores made of my antics, assuming they had enough mind to do so.

Straightening, I twisted from side to side to relieve the ache in my lower back. It had been a long day. In total, I’d uncovered ten stygian spores. All of them were strung along the forty-yard line, almost equidistant apart.

I shook my head ruefully. Even in deploying the invisible spores, the harbinger had maintained perfect symmetry. A tendency that I can maybe exploit. Raising my head, I studied the second cordon.

The stygian circle was no thinner, despite the numerous kills I’d scored on the first and third days. If anything, even more nether creatures surrounded me.

They had remained unmoving the entire day, not reacting to my antics at all, and I was sure they had been ordered to stay put unless I approached closer than fifty yards. The spores, too, had not moved—as far I could tell, anyway—which also suited my purposes perfectly.

Turning about, I headed back to the safe zone, following the markers I had laid down earlier. The day was drawing to a close and before I kicked off the next phase of my plan, I wanted to be rested.

Two yards from the barrier, another Game message flashed for attention.

Your nether absorption has increased to level 160 and reached rank 16, increasing your chance of resisting harmful nether effects by 40% and decreasing the damage you suffer from the void by 80%.

Your health, psi, stamina, and mana are degenerating at a rate of 7% per minute (damage reduced by 80% due to void armor).

My lips curved upwards. The three days spent in the central fog bank—especially the two given over to exploring—had done wonders for my nether absorption.

The skill had advanced at a steady rate, increasing the time I was able to spend in the mists which, in turn, had allowed me to train my nether resistance even faster. In all, I’d gained five whole ranks in the skill.

I wonder what will happen when the skill surpasses rank twenty.

At that point, my nether damage reduction would exceed one hundred percent. Would the void replenish me then? Would it restore my stamina, mana, psi, and health?

I chuckled. That will certainly be interesting if it does, but somehow, I doubt I’m going to be that lucky.

Amusement fading, I considered if my nether absorption skill was high enough. I wanted it to be.

A stamina degeneration rate of seven percent gave me fifteen minutes—twenty-one if I ate some fruit along the way—but would that suffice? I didn’t know how deep in the central fog bank I was, and even on the plateau without the spores to worry about, it could still take me days to win free of the nether.

I sighed, accepting the unpalatable truth. I have to train my nether absorption further.

As impatient as I was to escape, I was not ready to kick off the next phase of my plan. And it would be foolish to rush now when I was so close to success. I had to get the skill all the way to rank twenty. It might take a few more days but without full immunity, time would always be hounding me.

So be it, I thought. Swinging away from the safe zone, I headed back into the mist to resume my training.

✵ ✵ ✵

It took a whole week.

Seven days of patiently slipping into the fog and out again. Seven days of standing still and doing nothing while my nether absorption skill slowly ticked upwards. And four days longer than I’d anticipated.

Over that entire time, the harbinger visited only once. He did a quick flyby over the canyon and didn’t even bother to land or trade insults. Perhaps he wanted only to a certain I remained caught in his trap. Still, his disinterest pleased me. It would make things that easier later on.

More than once I was tempted to break the monotony of my nether training by launching further forays against the stygians. But I was happy with the status quo; I had a plan that would work with the way things were, and I was not about to risk it—not just to relieve my boredom.

Still, eventually, the Game alert I’d been waiting for arrived.

Your nether absorption has increased to level 200 and reached rank 20, increasing your chance of resisting harmful nether effects by 50% and decreasing the damage you suffer from the void by 100%.

Your health, psi, stamina, and mana are no longer degenerating.

I hardly had time to enjoy the achievement though, before a less welcome message followed on its heels.

Congratulations, Michael! You have advanced your first skill to tier 5. However, further improvement in this skill will not be possible until you reach player level 200, and you join the ranks of the Game’s elite.

For a moment, I was stunned speechless. I had been unaware of the skill cap, and while it made a certain sort of sense, it smacked of unfairness to someone not elite-ranked yet.

At least, it won’t stop me from gaining tier five abilities, I grumbled.  Now that would be—

I broke off, reconsidering my assumption.

There was in fact no reason to believe the Game would allow me to acquire an elite ability before level two hundred, especially not after it had so unexpectedly blocked further training of my nether absorption skill. I would have to assume the worst—meaning no invisibility and no tier five slaysight until I reached rank twenty.

Urgh. This is another wrinkle I don’t need.

Sighing, I strode back to the safe zone. Despite my mixed feelings, I had achieved what I had set out to do and obtained full nether immunity. It was not without cost, though. Every second that my void armor worked to repel the nether’s influence, a little bit of my mana would drain away. But I had grown sufficiently practiced at channeling that I could replenish my mana faster than my void armor could consume it—provided, of course, I found the necessary time and space to use the skill.

It was not only my nether absorption that had progressed over the last ten days, though. I had managed to train four other skills. While they had advanced at a slower rate than nether absorption, they had been at a much higher level to begin with and were now also approaching rank twenty.

Your insight is at level 197, your meditation at level 195, your telepathy at level 185, and your channeling at level 175.

Despite my lack of any elite tier abilities for the four skills, their levels made for pretty reading, and I imagined I would reap the benefits of their improvements soon enough.

But those were considerations for another time. Of immediate concern was the escape I still needed to execute. Slipping into the safe zone, I went straight to my makeshift bed in the ruined building.

Tomorrow was a big day.

✵ ✵ ✵

Eight hours later, I was awake, refreshed, and ready to begin.

But before I began the day’s adventures, there was one last thing I needed to do. I’d spent much of the previous night contemplating my remaining Class point. The best use for it would be to upgrade slaysight, but the more I thought about it, the more certain I grew that the Game would not allow me to advance the Class ability to tier five until I myself reached that tier.

In which case the point was best spent elsewhere.

Sitting down cross legged and turning my focus inwards, I willed my intention to the Adjudicator.

Assessing player’s suitability for a Class upgrade...

Class points available: 1.

Player rank: 18.

Upgrade requirements met.

You may advance your Class to rank 10 by improving an existing Class benefit or by selecting a new one. Do you wish to proceed?

Taking a deep breath, I conveyed my response to the Adjudicator.

More Game text filled my mind. My gaze flitting from left to right, I sped over the options. Some of the new benefits on offer looked interesting, but I had already decided how I wanted to spend the Class point and nothing I saw convinced me to do otherwise.

Commencing Class upgrade…

…

Upgrade complete. Class points remaining: 0.

Congratulations, Michael, your voidstealer Class has advanced to rank 10!

You have upgraded your void thief ability to superior void thief. The third tier of this ability makes it easier for you to filch knowledge from your foes by reducing the damage that your void armor needs to sustain to trigger a theft from 40% to 30%.

The range of hostile spells that can be stolen has also expanded to include damage over time spells. Additionally, the memory capacity of your void armor has improved, allowing you to remember your stolen knowledge for 12 hours instead of 8.

Superior void thief also provides you with a third method, called negate, of disrupting your foes’ attacks. After you perform a successful spell theft, your mana’s understanding of the stolen spell is such that it can perfectly resist any further iterations of the same spell. Note, like its lower tier counterparts, negate is a passive ability and dependent on a successful void theft to function.

I chewed my lip thoughtfully. Negate looked interesting and would be particularly useful against foes with few offensive spells. But it was less for the new void thief variant that I’d upgraded the ability than it was for the improved performance of its core ability: steal.

I rose to my feet. It was time to get to work.

Striding out of the safe zone, I passed through the circle of invisible spores without pause and continued on until I was fifty yards from the stygian cordon.

There, I halted.

Peering behind me, I made sure the guide ropes I’d set yesterday hadn’t shifted out of place. Forty yards separated me from the safe zone, a considerable distance if the harbinger caught me unawares. I didn’t intend on letting that happen, though.

But I did intend on being caught—partially anyway.

No use stalling, I scolded myself. Let’s get this show on the road. Drawing in a deep breath, I wove psi and cast.

You have charmed 10 of 10 targets for 20 seconds.

You have terrified 6 of 6 targets for 40 seconds.

Having done this on multiple prior occasions, I knew how the stygians would react. As expected, the nether creatures broke out of their careful ranks and charged forward.

This time, though, I did not bother peppering them with astral blades. Turning around, I set off in a looping run—not straight back to the safe zone, but in a carefully planned path that bore all the hallmarks of someone confused and panicked.

Eyes trained on the ground, I followed the guide ropes. I couldn’t afford to lose sight of them. If I did, I would truly become what I pretended: lost.

The seconds ticked by, and the stygian horde drew closer.

I paid them no mind. What attention I could spare was fixed on the sky. I had the harbinger’s timings down pat, and I knew almost to the second when he would arrive.

He did not disappoint.

As punctual as ever the stygian Power dropped into mindsight range. Now came the trickiest part of my plan. What would the harbinger do? Would he perceive that I was lost and take the bait? Or would he leave the horde to decide my fate?

The harbinger dived.

I grinned wolfishly, so giddy with excitement for a moment that I almost missed the next turning in the guide ropes. That won’t do. Cursing my carelessness, I locked my gaze on the ground.

The harbinger swooped into an attacking run.

I didn’t look back, but I imagined he was skimming low to the ground as he closed in for the kill. I jinked left, still following the guide ropes—but now on a direct course for the safe zone. The maneuver was pre-planned but to the harbinger it would look like my luck had turned and I was about to escape his reach.

A stygian harbinger has cast death’s cacophony.

Surging forward, I redoubled my pace, but not enough to escape the blast of sound emanating from my rear.

I wanted the spell to reach me—partially, anyway.

The wave of discordant noise overtook me. I staggered, but already braced for the sonic assault, I retained my balance. If I fell now, I was dead, and all my careful preparations would have been for nothing.

You have failed a magical resistance check.

A harbinger has injured you.

Your void armor has reduced the death damage incurred by 10%.

Clamping my hands against my ears, I kept running even as successive pulses of sound overran me.

A harbinger has injured you.

A harbinger has injured you.

…

Void armor charge remaining: 68%.

Void thief triggered! Void siphon and negate activated!

You have acquired the spell, death’s cacophony (stolen).

Yes! I exulted. Releasing the spell I had held waiting, I set down a windslide and dove onto it. The wave of sound at my back built to a crescendo, but borne away by the ramp of air, I outpaced the peak for another five crucial yards.

It was enough.

You have entered a safe zone.

The harsh notes hit the invisible barrier and were reflected away, followed a split second later by the harbinger. Veering away, the stygian Power cawed angrily as he flapped his wings powerfully to build altitude again.

I paid him no heed. I was safe and had gotten what I wanted: an area effect spell.

Rolling onto my back, chest heaving, and pulse fluttering, I inspected my new spell. It was one I was familiar with, and even better, I already knew it could destroy the stygian spores. Stealing it was the entire reason I’d left the harbinger ‘nab’ me in the first place.

But before I could commence the next phase of my plan, I had to wait for the commotion the rest of the stygians were making to die down.

A smile on my lips, I closed my eyes and meditated.

✵ ✵ ✵

A little later, the stygian cordon reset itself.

The harbinger himself had long since left, disappearing to whatever tasks preoccupied him. With my mana and psi reserves full, I stepped out of the safe zone and approached the first stygian spore.

You have failed to detect an unknown entity.

I drew to a halt. By my reckoning, the spore was just over a dozen yards ahead of me. Drawing on my mana, I infused my voice with power and howled.

You have cast death’s cacophony.

A roar erupted from my open mouth, shattering the fog’s silence. I would have preferred a much quieter spell but there was no use complaining. I had to work with what I had.

A split second later, I snapped my mouth closed and waited. I had terminated the spell early, releasing only a single sound pulse, but it should more than suffice.

And indeed, it did.

You have killed a level 5 stygian spore.

I felt like grinning but curbed my excitement. My work was far from done. Watching both the sky and the cordon with my mindsight, I waited.

I was about to find out how comprehensive the harbinger’s instructions were. There was no doubt the stygians in the cordon had heard my howl. But how would they react? Would they attack and summon the harbinger? Or would they do nothing until I crossed the fifty-yard line? I was prepared for either eventuality, but much preferred the latter.

Ten seconds later, the stygians had still not moved.

Sure now that they would remain unresponsive, I moved to the next spore. I had nine more invisible watchers to kill.

Then, I would have my stealth back—or so I hoped.