Chương 14: Hammer and Scalpel

Zander sat on a protruding root, the corpse of the Ironfang Patriarch cooling a few yards away. In his hands, he turned the [Ironfang Dagger] over and over, studying his prize. It was a crude thing, primitive in its construction. The handle was nothing more than a section of bone wrapped tightly in rough, cured leather, offering no crossguard to protect his fingers. It looked like something a caveman would fashion in a desperate bid for survival. But the blade… the blade was a different story.

It was the patriarch's fang, nearly ten inches of curved, serrated calcium that gleamed with a milky luster. Zander tested the edge against a thick fern frond. He applied no pressure, merely letting the weight of the dagger rest against the plant matter. The leaf severed instantly, the cut so clean the top half didn't fall for a full second.

"Razor," Zander muttered, a glint of appreciation in his red eyes. Compared to his survival knife, which was effectively a glorified butter knife against the beasts of this forest, this was a weapon of war. It didn't just push through resistance; it parted it. He stood up, his body feeling a bit more powerful. His recent level-up had brought his Might to 20, matching his Resilience. He felt balanced. But balance wasn't enough. He needed optimization.

He looked at the dagger in his right hand, then at his left empty hand.

"If I can have the gauntlets and the dagger..." The thought was intoxicating. [Scarlet Gauntlet] provided unparalleled protection and blunt force trauma. The dagger provided piercing damage and finishing potential. Combining them would turn him into a walking tank with a bayonet. He gripped the dagger tightly in his right hand. [Scarlet Gauntlet] He commanded the skill. He felt the familiar drain on his Blood Well. Thanks to his latest level-up pushing his Will to 40, his reserves now sat at a whopping 400.

The red mist erupted from his pores, swirling around his fingers and the leather hilt of the weapon.

"Harden," Zander commanded, visualizing the blood forming a protective shell around his hand while leaving the blade exposed. The blood obeyed the command to harden, but it didn't care about his visualization. It cared about its nature. The skill was designed to form a boxing glove-like shell, a single, bulbous mass of obsidian-hard blood. As the liquid solidified into the vitrified glass-like armor, it expanded. It sought to merge his fingers together inside the mitt.

"No, wait—" Zander felt the pressure instantly. The hardening blood squeezed his fingers together, crushing them against the handle of the dagger. The "box glove" shape had no room for an object held in the palm. The physics of the skill fought against the physics of the solid object. Pop. The dagger shot out of his grip like a wet bar of soap, landing in the dirt with a dull thud. Zander looked at his right hand. It was perfectly encased in the sleek, red aerodynamic boxing glove he had perfected.

But his hand was empty.

"Incompatible," he sighed, dismissing the skill. The red dust evaporated. He tried again, trying to force the blood to freeze around the handle, to fuse the weapon to his gauntlet. But the result was the same. The skill was rigid. It was a blunt instrument. It refused to accommodate dexterity or tools. Until he figured out how to make the gauntlet articulated, something he had failed to do despite hours of practice, he could not hold a weapon while the skill was active.

"So, I have to choose," Zander mused, picking the dagger up from the dirt.

"Blunt force or piercing. Defense or offense." He looked at his hands again.

"Why not both?" He shifted his stance, placing his left foot forward. He gripped the Ironfang Dagger in his right hand, holding it in a reverse grip, the serrated blade running along his forearm. Then, he activated [Scarlet Gauntlet] solely on his left hand. Woosh. The red obsidian materialized instantly on his left, creating a heavy shield for his lead arm. His right arm remained bare, light, and armed with the lethal fang. He threw a jab with his left. The weight of the gauntlet carried it forward like a piston.

He followed with a slash from the right. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. Swish. It felt... right. It was asymmetrical, yes, but it covered his bases. The left hand was his shield and his hammer. The right hand was his scalpel.

"Let's test it," Zander whispered. * Finding a test subject didn't take long. The forest was teeming with life, and the deeper he went, the deadlier that life became. Zander moved through the undergrowth, his steps silent, or at least as silent as he could make them. He wasn't relying on the System's quest marker right now; he was hunting for sport. He was hunting for data. He spotted the tracks near a moss-covered tree. They were large, paw-like prints, but lighter than the boar's tracks.

There were no claw marks in the mud, suggesting retractable claws. Cat? He followed the trail for twenty minutes. The forest here was dense, the air thick with humidity and the smell of ozone. The shadows stretched long and twisted, playing tricks on the eye. Zander paused. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. The silence here was unnatural. He scanned the tree line. Nothing. He scanned the roots. Nothing. Then, the air shimmered.

It was a subtle distortion, like heat haze rising from asphalt on a summer day. It was hovering on a low branch, ten yards away. Zander narrowed his eyes and focused. [Identify] [Shadow-Stalker - lvl 6] A panther. Or at least, something that resembled a panther. It was sleek, made of corded muscle, but its fur seemed to absorb the light around it, shifting colors to match the bark and leaves behind it. It was practically invisible.

"Level 6," Zander noted.

"Same as the vipers. Perfect." The beast realized it had been spotted. The shimmer vanished, revealing a predator with fur as black as the night and eyes that burned with a pale, yellow luminescence. It let out a low growl, a sound that vibrated in Zander's chest. Zander stepped into the clearing, adopting his new stance. Left gauntlet raised high, guarding his face and throat. Right hand low, the white dagger hidden behind his thigh.

"Come on, kitty," he taunted. The shadow-stalker didn't need further provocation. It coiled its hind legs and launched itself. It was fast, significantly faster than the squirrels. It moved like a bolt of black lightning, closing the thirty-foot gap in a heartbeat. It didn't go for a complex flank; it went for the throat, its jaws opening wide to reveal rows of needle-like teeth. Zander's perception, heightened by his high stats, saw the trajectory clearly. He triggered [Mind's Dominion].

He couldn't dump his entire pool of Will; the skill still had a hard cap of 10 transferable points. But with a conversion rate of 0. 5, that was still a 5 points increase, which was a significant edge. He shifted the maximum allowed, 10 points of Will into Resilience, increasing it by 25%. Resilience: 25 The stalker hit him. He slammed his left arm, the gauntleted one, directly into the beast's open mouth. CRUNCH. The sound wasn't Zander's bones breaking.

It was the sound of the Stalker's teeth shattering against the vitrified blood of the [Scarlet Gauntlet]. The beast's momentum slammed into him, but Zander stood like a statue rooted in the earth. The beast yelped, a strangled sound of pain and confusion. It hung there for a split second, its jaw jarred by the impact, its fangs broken on an object that refused to yield.

"My turn," Zander growled. Shift. In the blink of an eye, the density vanished from his limbs. The energy flooded out of Resilience and surged into Might. Might: 25 The power wasn't the god-like surge he imagined a higher level might bring, but 25 Might was devastating. It was more than enough to crush a boar's skull, and it was certainly enough for this. He didn't need to wind up. He didn't need to find leverage. He simply drove his right hand forward from behind his thigh.

The Ironfang Dagger was a blur of white bone. SHLICK. There was almost no resistance. With 25 Might driving a razor-sharp edge, the dagger didn't just pierce the stalker's flank; it disappeared inside it. Zander felt the hilt slam against the beast's ribs. He twisted his wrist, a brutal, efficient motion, and ripped the blade upward. The shadow-stalker convulsed. The massive trauma to its internal organs was instantaneous.

It didn't have the resilience to survive that kind of focused force delivered through a blade. Zander shoved the beast away with his gauntlet. It hit the ground, tried to rise, collapsed, and exhaled a final, rattling breath.

'ding' You have killed [Shadow-Stalker - lvl 6]. Zander stood there, looking at his gauntlet, then at the bloody dagger.

"Efficient," he concluded. With the [Scarlet Gauntlet] alone, killing the boars or the patriarch had been a brawl. He had to crush skulls, break spines, and hammer them until they stopped moving. It was messy. It was loud. But this? This was surgical. The gauntlet took the hit. The dagger took the life.

"Blunt force to create the opening. Piercing force to close the deal," Zander murmured, wiping the blade on the stalker's fur. He checked his Blood Well. The engagement had cost him almost nothing. A gauntlet activation on one hand, and virtually zero health lost thanks to the instant Resilience shift. He knelt to inspect the kill. The Stalker's pelt was unique. Even in death, the fur seemed to ripple slightly, trying to match the dead leaves beneath it.

"Resource," Zander noted. He had no use for it now, but maybe that would change at some point, or someone might be interested when he met new people after his current quest. He set to work skinning the beast. His movements were fluid, precise. He carved a generous portion of meat from the beast's haunch and stowed the shimmering pelt in his backpack. He stood up, sheathing the dagger in his belt. It was time to resume his travel towards the Apex Predator.