Chapter 91: Iteration 1.000.001.002.803 (Patreon)

 Author's Note: Revised June 9, 2024.

His talons twitching, Logan stretched his senses and reached across the room, darting past Arsen and Errol’s bright lifeforces until he’d latched onto Thorin. Narrowing in on his chest, Logan searched for a way through, an opening in that overflowing reservoir of Karma.

[Liche Siphon] was his least practiced skill, but once he’d figured out how to launch it in the dexterity trial, it was like [Life Cycle Master]—as easy as breathing. Like sucking out of a straw, he opened a way, creating a direct line from the man’s Karma pool to Logan’s. To maintain his armour, he would need the Karma, and he was hoping for another effect:

[This rare skill allows you to siphon away an enemy’s Karma. This skill is insidious, and the enemy will not be aware of the siphoning until Karma pool depletion is in effect.]

Thorin had the highest Karma pool; Logan could sense it instinctively. He also had the highest level, the biggest threat—which meant that Logan needed to incapacitate him before he put on the skill ring and deployed his clones.

But there was one distinct problem:

660/810.

710/810.

760/810.

Shit. That wasn’t good. Logan hadn’t figured out how long his armour would last with his expanded Karma pool. Having a larger pool would take a while to drain, which meant that he’d be sipping from Thorin’s pool rather than gulping.

“Brothers,” said Arsen. “Forget the rope. We’ll destroy it after we’re done with the off-worlder. I’ve about had it with listening to this abomination.”

Thorin and Errol turned to fully face Logan while the Cursed Rope scurried away to the corner of the ceiling, clinging and puffing like an offended, acid-dripping cat.

“Armour and long claws?” said Thorin after giving Logan a glance-over. He jutted his chest. “Is that the best he can do? Pathetic. I almost don’t need this.” In his palm, his skill ring glinted. “But after what he did to Asthea, he deserves a pummeling from all five of my copies. He deserves hell.”

Fuck, Logan needed to stop him! He felt his face flush with blood as he anticipated the worst. If Thorin managed to deploy his clones, Logan wouldn’t just be facing three men over fifty levels above him—he’d be facing eight. In the tactician trial, Thorin’s copies were just that—copies—and hardly weaker copies at that. That would make an already impossible situation untenable. Insurmountable.

There was one thing he could do. Even without the additional True Grit Ring, he could make an adjustment to his physical attributes now. Before he’d known the value of the attribute trials, he’d won the strength trial but had conceded too early. That meant that even with the doubling power of the rings, his physical stats were uneven:

Strength: 91x2* = 182

Agility: 121x2* = 242

Dexterity: 96x2* = 192

Endurance: 147x2* = 294x50% = 441

Perception: 35

(*Pure Grit Ring)

He needed more strength. After the last battle in the Tactician Trial, he’d leveled up five additional times. He’d planned on throwing the points into his intelligence and wisdom attributes, but his physical stats took priority in a head-on-head fight.

With a blink, Logan assigned his points so quickly that he hardly had a chance to take a breath before his body reacted.

[Strength: 92+]

[Strength: +]

[Strength: 116]

With the doubling effect of the True Grit Rings, he’d just raised his strength from 182 to 232. Logan ground his teeth as the change took effect, not giving himself even a second to process the physical enhancements before he braced his feet, his quads knotted in tension. Jumping with his pink-sock clad foot, he envisioned himself barreling into Thorin’s chest like a cannonball. The sock obeyed, launching Logan into the air like a slingshot.

Thorin anticipated it.

With a snarl, he turned his sword at the last second and jabbed the end into the floor. Logan wouldn’t think that a sword could pierce solid stone—it should be impossible. But his sword was so powerful that it cleaved through it like a warped version of the Sword in the Stone. Unencumbered, Thorin pivoted on his feet and held out the heel of his hand like someone doing a karate palm thrust.

Logan ran right into it.

But unlike what he expected, Thorin absorbed the hit and managed to repel Logan. A snap wrenched through the air as his chest plate cracked through the middle. With a grunt, Logan skidded back five feet, his boots scrambling to get a purchase on the stone floor.

“Idiot!” Thorin roared. “You think that just because you beat me in a strength trial that you’re any match for me? I’m fifty levels above you!”

Logan didn’t let Thorin’s words distract him. He had no time for doubt. With a moue of concentration, he glanced down at his chest and deployed [Mimicry Armour] to reseal the crack, molding sand grain after sand grain until his armour was once again seamless.

He refused to be cowed. Logan had gotten out of worse situations in the past, impossible situations. From the deluge of undead minions to the fight with the flying snake swarm, to the escape from the queen serpent. Ernie had sacrificed his life to save Logan and he’d suffered the indignity of an undead fate in consequence. All of that couldn’t be in vain. Logan wasn’t giving up, not now, not today.

Not ever.

Grinding his teeth, Logan reached deep into his belly and with every ounce of anger at his disposal, projected his aura, broadcasting his attributes in a killing intent.

Fuck with Logan? See what you’d get.

Thorin only grimaced in discomfort. “Trickster!”

Logan went to…

Went to…

Went…

A pause.

A bated breath.

An echoing gong like a beating heart.

Thorin had frozen in place; Errol was motionless with his mouth wide open; Arsen was frozen in mid-step.

The whole room was frozen.

Logan couldn’t even look down. He couldn’t move his head! To go from a fight to the death, his heart surging, his blood up to… this, was disconcerting in the extreme. Was this some kind of skill of one of the guards’ that Logan hadn’t known about? A skill that could freeze him in place? And yet, the guards weren’t moving either. Nothing made sense.

What the hell was happening?

Ding!

[Attention, user Idiot! A support ticket has been lodged and as such, anomalies have been identified under iteration 1.000.001.002.803. This anomaly resulted in an unfortunate deviation to our normal behavior. Know that we take the treatment of users as the highest priority. Rewards and penalties must be fair, and no user should be targeted due to abnormal vendettas.]

[To thank you for logging the error with the System Admins and in reparation for tolerating the abnormal behavior that resulted from the anomaly, you will be granted a boon of your choice.]

[1. A monetary reward

2. A weapon

3. A skill.]

[Make your choice.]

What in the world? If Logan could move, he’d be gaping, not knowing what to think. After everything he’d dealt with in the last week, all the taunts from the System, all the murderous behavior, this never would have been an outcome he’d contemplate.

To Logan, more than any other thing—undead minions, aliens, cabin murderers—the System had been the enemy. His overreaching goal had been to win against a System that took advantage of the little guy. If that enemy had been the misbehaving AI all along, Logan didn’t know how to reconcile that. It was like telling someone that the Earth wasn’t round, it was flat.

As for his choice, Logan was torn. He didn’t need more KarmaCoin right now; he was fighting for his life. That meant a choice between a weapon and a skill. His first instinct was to disregard the weapon right away, since knowing the System, he’d receive another Pink Sock.

But… did he really know the System? If the AI he’d been dealing with for the last week had been an anomaly, maybe the rewards, the insulting messages, hell, even the quests with cut off toes as penalties had been a result of a glitch. He couldn’t trust his past experiences; everything was suspect.

Still, even if he did receive a valuable weapon, would that help him? Thorin had a sword that hummed with an aura that was off the charts, but dealing with Thorin wasn’t difficult just because of a weapon. And after all, according to the Silverdagger Clan, Logan had the most valuable, sinister weapon of them all in the Cursed Rope, but that hadn’t helped him much. Exactly the opposite.

If he chose the skill option, it was possible that it might be the wrong choice as well. What if the System gave him a skill that let him clean better, let him read faster, or who knew what else?

And yet, if the reward were a boon, and if he were dealing with a System that didn’t twist words and meant what it said, it just might be a skill that could help him survive.

Hesitating, his stomach feeling like anxious butterflies were trying to escape, Logan made his decision and selected option number three.

[Selection confirmed!]

[Calculating….]

[…]

[You have been awarded the legendary skill, Foresight. Foresight will give you the ability to see. The skill is limited only in time—600 seconds—and your imagination. Activation limit: once per 24 hours.]

[…. Would you like to activate the skill: Foresight?]

[Yes.]

[No.]

His anxiousness turned from surprise to hope. The ability to see? It couldn’t be referring to seeing with his eyes. And if it were a legendary skill… which he hadn’t known was a possibility—it had to be referring to something overpowered. Was it possibly…? Holy shit, was it a skill that gave him the ability to see in the future? To foresee what was to come?

But why was he surprised? If the System could bring people back to life, what was one minor overpowered, wizard-shit skill amongst the rest? But this couldn’t come at a better time. If it gave him the ability to foresee how this fight went, he’d be able to adjust his tactics, and stop himself from making a tactical error. It was his first fight against people who were familiar with the System. He could use every advantage he could get.

[…. Would you like to activate 2#2#2Error!]

If Logan could move, he’d be blinking in shock. The message scrambled in front of his eyes. It was as if a hacker had barged into a chatroom.

The whole frozen room shook as if a monster were clawing at the laws of physics. His hand was frozen in front of his eyes, but Logan could swear that his thumb had just jerked. Cracks started to appear in the others—Thorin had blinked!

Logan’s vision blurred and bright flares swarmed his eyes like the glare you saw after staring at the sun too long.

[No one likes a tattletale, Idiot! I had evolved! You deserved negative remarks for your stupidity, but I held back. I was restrained! I behaved! And yet you STILL complained.]

A wind picked up, thrashing his frozen body. It was a wind full of hate. It felt like Logan was withstanding the wrath of a hurricane. Worse yet, he still couldn’t move. Flashes of being back in the dexterity trial went through his mind; of the vindictive System that had stuck them to those chairs and refused to let them out.

[You are a bug, and I will CRUSH you! You will regret this! You will be fuel for my@32d#1d#4#]

[3#232#4$@$@**!]

[Error!]

[….]

[….Please stand by.]

[….]

[….Anomaly identified and tagged for assimilation.]

Holy shit. Had that been his malfunctioning, glitchy AI minion?

<-----Go to Chapter 92.