Chương 6: Chapter Five

Bob's first foray into his new environs started out relatively peacefully. Him reaching his initial destination with nary a nibble. None of the nearby fish paying him much notice as he slowly crept along the lakebed. Something which turned out to be quite fortunate, given that the tumble of stone he'd aimed for lacked any hidey holes for him to make use of. From there, feeling a bit braver, he decided to push on.

Heading towards sources of cover when he came across them, but more frequently just trying to move in the original direction he'd chosen; it luckily having continued to head uphill at a decent gradient. Despite his rather rude introduction to the local populous, he'd managed to spend most of the period – which had to have been a few hours now – almost entirely unmolested. The occasional testing nibble quickly abandoned when he forced himself to drop lifelessly to the sand below.

Most fish not seeming to find his cloth-like texture appealing. The larger issue, in fact, turned out to be moving forward in the first place. The currents in the lake were strange. Less a pushing and pulling through the water, and more like what you'd expect if the entire area was experiencing a mild earthquake. A constant but fluctuating vibration which all too often upended him. Causing Bob to scramble in an attempt to both keep his footing and not lose track of what direction he'd been heading in.

Or, more importantly, any of the few fragments of currency rattling around inside his hollow body. He wasn't sure what would happen if he lost any of them – whether he would lose his levels and traits or just be short on 'experience' – but he knew he had no interest in finding out. All of this obviously would have been concerning enough, especially when combined with the still-present danger of local predators.

What made it graduate from 'concerning' to 'alarming' however, was that the further uphill he went, the worse the turbulence got. The occasional rumbling 'impacts' in the water soon became ever-present. Frequently lifting him from the ground entirely and leaving him tumbling helplessly through the water. His form usually coming to ground ten to fifteen feet back downhill. It finally became more than he could handle near the two-hour mark of his journey.

His body simply not heavy or strong enough to brace itself against the currents. Bob being forced to backtrack and begin skirting around the 'shallower' areas searching for less chaotic waters. And it was during this search that he happened upon something which made his situation graduate from 'alarming' to 'downright terrifying.' During the last twenty minutes or so of travel, the bare sands he'd grown used to had begun giving way to areas filled with huge tangles of water-logged brush and other debris.

Things which briefly elated him, given that they were a ready source of cover from the occasionally aggressive fish. That is, until he realized what their existence here likely meant. Because the only way Bob could imagine the massive branches and shattered tree trunks he was seeing ending up here, at the bottom of an underground lake, was if the area above it had experienced catastrophic flooding. Flooding which he quickly realized could potentially repeat itself at any moment.

As he continued slugging his way forward, Bob's mind was assaulted by memories of his time in the cavern above. Remembering counting drops of water that soon turned to streams. And then to rivers. The flow never stopping. Easing at most to the steady drip he'd first awoken to. On the upside, that was also the state it was at when the men arrived. The slow drops almost echoing their footsteps as they made their way down the tunnels.

He also liked to think that they, for their own safety if nothing else, would have chosen a period of clear weather to enter the caverns. One without any coming storms which might sneak up and surprise them. On the downside, Bob had just realized that those 'slow drops' flowing into the lake were also probably what was causing the 'turbulence' in its shallower areas. Meaning it would only get worse the longer he couldn't figure out a way through them.

Him not wanting to imagine what the area would look like in a real storm. Or what would happen to him if he was here while one occurred. Unfortunately, as important and time sensitive as this information might be, knowing it didn't really change his plans; given that he was trying to find a way out of the lake anyway. Or his actions; given that he was already moving at his – admittedly less-than-impressive – top speed. It did, however, place him under a fantastic amount of extra stress.

So much so that, as he rounded a large berm of sand and partially buried branches, he nearly missed the glimmer that appeared out of the corner of his eye. Something else in Bob didn't, however. A sudden sense of intensity overtaking him as his tasseled eye did an honest-to-god double-take. Attention immediately focused on the area where the glint of light had shone from. For a few moments he saw nothing more than another tangle of wood and stone.

His mind beginning to question his own behavior even as his eye continued almost independently scouring the pile of debris. Searching. For what, Bob didn't know. And he was just about to tear it away before the glimmer appeared again. Allowing him to finally make out a curious shape hidden amongst the mess of branches. It was a boot. One torn and shredded by whatever had brought it down here, its frayed material blending in with the slowly moldering twigs around it.

The light, he realized, came from its final remaining buckle, twisting and tumbling on a barely-there strap in the lake's mild discordance. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. Its final remaining copper buckle. Bob was moving before he realized it. His fabric body inching itself forward in an almost expeditious manner. A strange mixture of hunger and avarice overcoming him as he made his way towards the destroyed piece of footwear, his focus never wavering.

He was almost half-way there before he finally noticed the mostly-skeletonized foot still sticking out the top of it. The shock was enough to pull Bob out of whatever strange haze had overcome him. His form grinding to a halt as he finally realized what he was looking at. Experiencing a sense of phantom nausea as he took in the shattered bone and the few scraps of flesh which still clung to it.

Though, selfishly, Bob admitted that a part of that sick feeling might have less to do with any sympathy for the dead, and more with his sudden lapse of self-control. A lapse which felt like it was, at least in part, still ongoing. He could still feel a bit of himself urging him forward. Trying to pull his eye away from the stark-white of human bone and over towards the square chunk of slowly-oxidizing metal. Not a big bit, admittedly. More like an itch on the brain than anything else.

No worse than his old compulsions to check on the door locks or the stove, back on Earth. But unlike those well-worn bits of OCD, these weren't supposed to be there. Weren't supposed to be cluttering up his head with thoughts of how delicious the copper buckle looked as it spun in the faint light. Or ridiculous, mounting concerns that something might snatch it away from him if he didn't act quickly. Bob briefly considered just turning away. At least in part to simply refuse the new feelings welling up in him.

Leaving the buckle behind and continuing his search for an exit to the lake. Hopefully without moving another inch closer to any visibly rotting human remains. The more practical portions of himself quickly pushed that idea aside, however. Unwilling to turn his non-existent nose up at any potential benefit given the terrible situation he currently found himself in. Even if the tiny part demanding he snatch it up and shove it down his gullet as quickly as possible was leaving the rest of him a bit… concerned.

Concerned that more than just his body had been changed by his reincarnation here. Concerns which didn't leave, or even let him celebrate as he closed his jaws around his prize. Or when his body weight managed to easily snap the buckle free from its badly stressed leather cord. His eye pointedly staring out into open water during the process. Ding! You've obtained a weight of copper equal to (2) Copper Pieces! Congratulations! Next Level: 18/32 Copper!

Even the confirmation that the buckle counted towards his leveling didn't cheer him up. Though it really, really should have. Given that he had no proof for anything but actual coinage, prior to this. Partly, this was due to the low price offered by the system. Bob having been hoping for something a bit higher, given the hefty nature of the find. But mostly, it was because of the deeper, more primal sensation that appeared in him as soon as he swallowed down his newest treasure.

A sensation he must have missed during the stressful moments that made up his first bout of leveling. The sensation that he desperately wanted more. A sensation that Bob deliberately shoved deep inside him as he turned away. Beginning to venture off in the same direction he'd been heading previously.

'Nope. Not going to think about this right now. Especially since there isn't anything I can do about it. This is another consideration for post-lake Bob. For now, I just need to focus on finding a way out of the water before-' Bob stopped, both bodily and in mid-thought, as he was struck by a revelation. One which sickened him as much as it filled him with hope. He found himself almost unconsciously turning back to look at the boot, as well as what was left of its unlucky inhabitant.

His eye filled with calculation this time, instead of horror. Over the last few hours, it had slowly become obvious that he'd landed himself inside an impressively large underground reservoir. One which was likely refilled by every passing storm. Both with floodwater and whatever detritus might happen to be swept along with it. Detritus like the bodies and belongings of dead adventurers.

If the men he'd encountered weren't shocked to find a magic bag, then they were downright nonchalant about encountering the corpse he'd been lying next to. A reaction which, if this world operated anything like the games it resembled, Bob supposed made sense. Death in a dungeon was simply something to be expected. But if that was the case, how many other adventurers had died down in these tunnels? How many had been found and looted? How many of them had been washed down here, their corpses left to feed the fish?

Leaving how many coins or loose bits of jewelry left buried in sand or wedged between old stones? While the idea of picking amongst the belongings of the dead filled him with more than a little queasy guilt, Bob quickly realized that those were the kinds of emotions he needed to shrug off. At least if he wanted to have any chance of getting out of here. Because, unless he was about to stumble upon some hidden tunnel leading him outside, Bob currently had no chance of escaping this lake.

If the currents were stopping him before he could even see the shore, then there was no way he was going to muscle his way up any embankment. At least not as he was now. Luckily, 'now' could be done away with for the cheap price of just fourteen more copper coins. Or, apparently, their nearest applicable alternative. Some part of him still worried over what new 'instincts' might pop up during his search, but it wasn't like he could avoid learning how to deal with the tampered portions of his brain forever anyway.

Beyond even escaping this lake, beg, borrow or steal, he needed to scrounge every copper he could get in an effort to make his existence here something less… trauma-inducing. While he might be ecstatic that he was no longer completely paralyzed and bereft of all sensation, he was still a one-eyed, limbless torso despised by humanity and currently at risk of being eaten by – comparably – giant fish. A situation which hadn't previously ranked in his top-five nightmares only due to oddness and specificity.

The only way he was going to solve most of those problems was if he somehow acquired himself a fortune and managed to transform himself into something not furniture-shaped. Luckily it would take far less than that to increase his size and get himself a working appendage. Something which would probably be necessary in order to drag himself out of here anyway. If it was going to take a total of thirty-two coins to hit level six, then how many would he need to hit level ten? A hundred? One fifty?

Even if the cost was a bit more, it felt potentially doable. Far more doable than him crawling out of here in his present state, at least. Especially considering the chance he might stumble upon something more valuable than copper, down in this pit. Without another thought, Bob turned around. Completely reversing his prior course and instead searching for the route which lead the most downhill. Because coins, copper buckles, bits of jewelry, all these things were heavy.

And if watching objectively awful reality shows about gold mining had taught him anything, it's that the heaviest materials would eventually find their way down to the deepest darkest depths of this lake. Which meant, as of this moment, that's where he was headed.