Chương 16: Minefield

Zander didn't wait to make use of the centipede's body properly. He broke into a run, his boots pounding the soft, uneven earth. The survivor squirrel was fast, but it wasn't invisible. Zander could track the disturbance in the canopy, the swaying of a branch here, the rustling of leaves there. It was heading deeper, pulling him further into the forest.

"You can't run forever," Zander muttered, his breath steady thanks to his enhanced physiology. He pushed through a thicket of ferns that reached his chest, ignoring the thorns that tried to snag his ruined clothes. The forest was changing again. The oppressive, verdant gloom of the "Green Maze" was giving way to something brighter, but far less welcoming. The air grew heavy, not just with humidity, but with a scent so sweet it made his teeth ache.

It smelled like honey and rotting fruit, a cloying perfume that masked the underlying stench of decay. Zander burst through the last line of brush and skidded to a halt. He wasn't in a forest anymore. He was in a garden. It was a natural amphitheater, a massive clearing dominated by flora that looked alien compared to the oaks and pines he had left behind. The ground was carpeted in moss the color of bruised plums. Rising from this alien turf were hundreds of pitcher plants, but they were monstrous.

They stood waist-high, their cups wide enough to swallow a man's head. Their colors were vibrant: neon pinks, electric blues, and deep, arterial reds. They pulsed slowly, a rhythmic contraction that suggested respiration. And on the other side of this vibrant minefield, perched safely on the low branch of a dead tree, sat the survivor squirrel. It looked at Zander. It twitched its nose. Then, it picked up a small rock and tossed it into the nearest cluster of pitchers. Plop. The reaction was instantaneous.

The pitchers didn't snap shut. Instead, the rim of every plant in the clearing vibrated. A moment later, they exhaled. A thick, yellowish mist erupted from the plants, rolling across the ground like a sentient fog. It moved fast, filling the depression of the clearing in seconds, swirling around Zander's legs and rising toward his face. Zander instinctively covered his mouth and nose with his arm, but it was useless. The mist was everywhere. It clung to his skin, warm and oily. Then, the burning started.

It wasn't the internal fire of a venom spreading through his veins; it was the external sear of chemical corrosion. His exposed skin sizzled. The mist wasn't just toxic; it was acidic.

'ding' A notification box floated in the yellow fog. Corrosive Neurotoxin was detected and identified as a foreign contaminant. [BloodForged] has nullified its effect. Zander lowered his arm, wincing as the acid ate at the superficial layers of his skin.

"Right," he hissed, his eyes watering from the fumes.

"Immune to poison. Not immune to being dissolved. Though I feel fine inside my body." His trait [BloodForged] had deleted the neurotoxin that would have paralyzed his lungs, and it looked like even the acid had been nullified inside his body, but not outside, on his skin. Weird. He was standing in a cloud of digestive enzymes. He needed armor. He triggered [Mind's Dominion]. He pulled 10 points of Will and dumped them into Resilience. Resilience: 25 The pain dulled to an uncomfortable itch.

With his Resilience pushed to 25, his bodily density was high enough to resist the worst of the corrosion, turning a lethal chemical bath into a manageable irritation. He looked up. A small, colorful bird, perhaps attracted by the sweet scent or fleeing a predator, swooped low over the clearing and dove into the mist. The moment the bird hit the yellow cloud, it seized up. It didn't even have time to scream. Its wings locked as the neurotoxin hit its system, and it plummeted out of the air.

It hit the moss with a soft thud. Within seconds, Zander watched as the bird's feathers began to smoke, the corrosive agent melting organic matter into sludge.

"Nasty," Zander noted, stepping over the dissolving bird.

"But not enough." He looked across the field. The squirrel was watching him, its beady eyes widening. It clearly expected him to take more damage than he had.

"Your traps are useless," Zander called out, his voice rough from the acrid air. He stepped forward, wading through the mist. The plants, sensing movement, realized that the chemical warfare had failed to liquefy the intruder. The pulsing rhythm of the pitchers changed. It became erratic, agitated. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. Thwip.

A vine, thick as a garden hose and covered in sticky, translucent hairs, lashed out from the base of a red pitcher. It wrapped around Zander's left ankle with surprising tensile strength. Zander stumbled. Another vine shot out, grabbing his right wrist. He instinctively thought of the [Scarlet Gauntlet]. He could summon the mass of hardened blood to crush the plants, to batter them into submission. But he hesitated. The [Scarlet Gauntlet] was a blunt instrument. It turned his hands into smooth obsidian hammers.

Against a rubbery, flexible vine, a hammer was not the best tool. He needed the scalpel. Zander didn't shift his stats back to Might. He kept his Resilience high to mitigate the acid damage ticking away at his Health. Even with unbuffed Might, his base stats were above a normal human's. With a flick of his wrist, he drew the [Ironfang Dagger] from his belt. The serrated bone blade, crafted from the patriarch's fang, gleamed in the filtered light.

The vine on his wrist tightened, trying to pull him toward the gaping maw of a blue pitcher filled with bubbling acid. Zander didn't pull back. He slashed. Shlick. It was effortless. The dagger didn't just cut; it parted the fibers like they were made of butter. The vine severed instantly, the cut end flailing wildly as it retracted.

"Too slow," Zander whispered. He was a whirlwind of motion. He slashed the vine at his ankle, freeing his leg. He stepped deeper into the patch. More vines lashed out, a chaotic tangle of green tentacles trying to drag him down. Zander didn't panic. He fell into a rhythm. Step. Slash. Step. Slash. He severed a thick creeper trying to lasso his neck. He decapitated a pitcher plant that tried to lunge at him, the bone blade slicing through the thick vegetable flesh as if it were air.

It wasn't a fight; it was landscaping. [Scarlet Gauntlet] would have been a liability here. He wouldn't have been able to hold the knife, and he would have been flailing at the vines with boxing gloves. The dagger was the perfect tool for the job. He carved a path through the center of the clearing, leaving a trail of leaking plant matter and twitching vines in his wake. He reached the center of the patch, where the largest pitcher stood. It was a massive, purple thing, surrounded by the corpses of small animals.

He activated [Identify]. [Corrosive Pitcher - lvl 8] It lunged. Zander sidestepped. He drove the Ironfang Dagger into the base of the plant, twisting the blade. Green sap sprayed out. The plant shuddered and collapsed, its structural integrity ruined. Zander knelt, ignoring the corrosive mist swirling around his waist. He used the dagger to slice open the base of the pitcher. Inside, nestled among the roots, was a bulb the size of a grapefruit. It pulsed with a faint, nutrient-rich light.

[Identify] [Pitcher Bulb]: The nutrient storage organ of a Corrosive Pitcher. Highly toxic to most life forms.

"Highly toxic," Zander read aloud.

"Sounds delicious." He cut a slice of the bulb and popped it into his mouth. It was bitter, sharp, and stung his tongue like popping candy. A second later, the familiar notification chimed in his mind. Toxin detected. [BloodForged] has nullified its effect. Once the poison was neutralized, the aftertaste was surprisingly sweet, like a dense, starchy potato. He felt a warm rush of energy in his stomach. It was potent fuel.

'ding' You have killed [Corrosive Pitcher - lvl 8]. For killing an adversary above your level, you receive 30 System Coins.

'ding' BloodForged Lord has reached level 7. 5 Will and 1 free point received. Zander stood up, finishing the rest of the bulb in three large bites. He wiped the sap from his mouth and checked his status. Name: Zander Edwards Level: 7 System Coins: 380 Unspent Stat points: 1 Stats Might: 20 Resilience: 20 Will: 45"Forty-five Will," Zander noted. He flexed his mental muscles. The [Mind's Dominion] shift was already instant, but the connection felt cleaner, almost anticipatory. He looked at his free point.

His strategy hadn't changed. Might and Resilience were balanced at 20. But in this forest, offense seemed to be the best defense. If he could kill things before they damaged him too much, that was great in his book. He dumped the point into Might. Might: 21"Twenty-one," he whispered.

"Slow and steady." He looked toward the dead tree where the squirrel had been. Empty. Again.

"You're running out of traps," Zander called out to the silent forest. He walked out of the poison garden, his boots, or what was left of them, squelching on the moss. He retrieved his backpack from where he'd dropped it at the entrance. As he walked, he picked up a rough stone from the ground. He thought about the squirrel on the branch. He thought about the missed throws from a few days ago. Back then, he had been flailing. Now? He focused on a knot on a tree trunk, about fifty feet away.

He didn't activate [Scarlet Gauntlet] or [Mind's Dominion]. He just let his enhanced Might of 21 take over. Since his bloodline had merged Strength and Dexterity into Might, his aim was guided by the same stat that provided his power. He windmilled his arm and threw. CRACK. The stone flew in a flat, hard arc. It struck just above the knot, obliterating the bark and embedding itself in the wood. Zander nodded.

"Better." It was not a perfect throw yet, but there was already improvement compared to a few days ago. He picked up another stone, weighing it in his hand. Then another. He filled his pockets. The dagger was for close range. The gauntlets were for brawling. But if that squirrel thought it could just sit on a high branch and mock him, it was in for a rude awakening. Zander resumed his pace, heading deeper into the gloom. He tossed a stone in the air and caught it, the rhythm soothing.

He intended to keep practicing his throwing on the way.

"Ready or not," he whispered.

"Here I come."