Chương 8: Chapter Seven

Ding! Bite (F) has leveled up! 2 - 3 If it wasn't for the fact that Bob's mouth was already occupied – and currently lacked teeth – he would have smiled toothily at the news. As it was, he reveled in the feeling of his glorified pickaxe settling more firmly in his grip. Of it impacting the dirt with more power and precision. Of he, as a creature, becoming objectively better and more powerful. And also, at seeing the material surrounding the newest part of his horde beginning to slowly be chipped away.

Though, honestly, he might keep going even after breaking them free. The sensation of leveling, when not in the midst of being hurled down a pit by a greasy-faced teen, was a delightful one. He wasn't sure how 'banging a piece of iron into a rock' would affect his skill evolution, but he also wasn't really sure he cared. Whatever he got almost certainly being better than what he currently had. Bob continued daydreaming about potential evolutions as he hammered away in the stone crevice.

Only snapping out of it when he saw the material surrounding his coins crack. The two silver pieces rattling loosely after the impact. It took another good ten or so minutes more of banging and prying at the spot, but, eventually, they popped free. Coming out nearly in one chunk once he'd managed to fully loosen up the dirt around them; the grime and tarnish of a long stay underwater lightly binding them together. For a moment, Bob could only stare down at them, marveling at his success.

He almost didn't want to pick them up, worried about some potential other shoe dropping. Like the system refusing to take them, given that it specified copper as his current requirement. Or silver being worth less in this universe, rather than more. Leaving all his recent efforts worth nothing.

'Well, only one way to find out', Bob supposed. Before reaching down to swallow them up in one fell swoop. Ding! Congratulations! You have acquired 2 silver pieces! Species level increased! 5 – 8 Next level: 2. 21/2. 56 Silver Pieces.

Name: Bob Stadler Title: (None) + Species: Lesser Mimic (F) + Class: (None) + Level: 5 - 8 Health: 9/10 - 13/13 Mana: 48/48 Strength: 5 - 8 Dexterity: 5 - 8 Constitution: 10 - 13 Intelligence: 48 Perception: 10 - 13 Willpower: 22 - 25 Species Traits: + Class Skills: + Obtained Skills: + Blessings: + Bob closed out his status screen almost as soon as it came in, only briefly noting the expected three points to each attribute other than intelligence; far more focused on the physical changes to his own body.

Previously, he hadn't been in a position to notice any modifications as they happened, but now he watched in awe as reality was altered before his very eye. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it. An almost comforting numbness overtook him as his form began to swell, breaking well out of 'pouch' territory and beginning to edge into 'sack'.

As it did so, the material he was made of also seemed to go through a transformation; his previous cloth-colored surface beginning to brown and darken into something approaching leather. His seams also broadening and tightening, bound now with thick gut rather than twine. Bob nearly preened at the changes. The improvements might seem negligible to others, but they put him in a far better position when dealing with current threats to his existence. The few extra inches might just scare a good number of fish off.

Not to mention tanned leather being far preferable to cloth should they still decide to take a bite. He was even more enthusiastic when he noticed that the level increase had healed the damage he'd taken. The sole lost hit point which had been nagging at him for what, at this point, must have been most of a day. Not long enough to entirely nix the idea of him having a healing factor. But probably for him having a very good one.

In fact, he would have been ecstatic about the situation if it wasn't for a tiny little voice in his head clamoring desperately for attention. A little voice which had noticed something strange about his 'level up' page. More specifically the amounts required for him to get to the next one. While he hadn't paid much attention in the moment, something had seemed… off. And, deciding he had no reason not to indulge his anxieties, Bob opened up his species page to have a look.

Lesser Mimic Born of an act of theft, these amorphous monsters inhabit small sacks and coin purses. They are considered little more than a nuisance, biting the fingers of the greedy and unwary. Level: 8 Rank: F Skill Maximum: 2 Level Up: 2. 21/2. 56 Silver Coins He took a moment to be pleased by the reminder about having an extra skill to acquire, before turning his attention to his level-up requirements. Searching for whatever had attracted his attention.

It was only a few moments more before the realization struck. And then, not at all lightly. As he was digging them up he'd assumed that, if the current world worked on any sort of base ten system, the silver coins were going to be worth ten of the coppers. Something he probably should have realized wasn't possible once he'd seen his level increase. Twenty copper certainly not being enough to raise him three levels. No. Instead, they were each worth one hundred. Something which normally would have been fantastic.

If it hadn't instead been a portent of such amazingly ill tidings.

'But if it cost thirty-two copper pieces to get to level six, and two hundred and fifty-six to get to level nine…' Bob slumped in on himself. The realization of what was going on utterly stripping him of all of his previous enthusiasm. His hopes for zooming through levels and Traits turning to ashes in an instant. Because, if he was doing his math right, there was only one way he could have reached level five with sixteen copper while an additional two hundred and five only got him to level eight.

And that was if the amount required was doubling after every level. Something which anyone with experience involving rice and chessboards would agree wasn't terrific news.

'You utter and complete bastards. Was it not enough to do all of this to me? You also had to make improving myself functionally impossible? What's even the point?' Bob felt entirely drained of energy as he sat, staring at his menu screen. He was already having trouble finding singular pieces of copper as it was. Depending on the relative value of each currency, and the level at which he evolved, he might be stuck as a sack for the perceivable future. If not forever.

It was a strange feeling, hoping for rampant inflation.' Then again, even if this world's economy looks like post-World War Two Hungary, all it means is I might one day become a box. Hurray.' The negative thoughts combined with negative news threatened to pull him back down into a depression. Bob quickly rallied himself however, unwilling to waste more time moping when his situation hadn't really changed. Especially so shortly after his first real success. This was always going to be a struggle.

He was, frankly, in a pretty horrible situation. One he didn't let himself think too far into the future of because it served more as a deterrent towards action than a motivator. His only real option right now was to ignore how bad things were and just focus on his next step. On the next thing he needed to accomplish in order to deal with the problem right in front of him. Future problems were for future Bob.' Besides, If I think of coppers as cents, then I've only just gotten into dollar territory.

That would make it less than two dollars to get to level ten and get my next Trait. Which, regardless of anything else, will be a huge improvement to my life. Everything else can be dealt with later'. He almost forced himself to think, slowly leaning down to pick up his make-shift pickaxe. Just as he was about to however, he decided it might actually be better to swallow it, instead. He'd already searched the crack in the rock as well as he could, so it was time to move on.

Hopefully in search of larger patches of treasure. Unfortunately, his speed was drastically hampered while trying to carry anything in his mouth, so if he wanted to bring the tool with him, his best bet was to gobble it up. Oddly enough, the thought left a strange… unpleasantness lingering inside of him. The 'mimic' bits of his brain mildly objecting to wasting room on non-precious metals.

Not seeing any other options, however – and not wanting to leave behind a useful tool – Bob mentally shrugged to himself before tossing the scrap of iron back with a 'clank' to land on the coins resting in his 'stomach'. After which, he was immediately surprised by a notification. Ding! Congratulations! You have opened up your first Class Option! Please remember that – once chosen – Classes are permanent. More Class slots will become available at higher species rank!

Bob stared at the notification for a moment, before he felt his enthusiasm begin to rise again. He'd been so focused on leveling up his species that he'd completely forgotten that he had access to a class! Or, rather, that he had the potential to access a class. Potential which had apparently just come to fruition. A good class might change everything for him. It could grant him the strength necessary to pull himself through the currents.

Or perhaps a skill which would allow him to swim through the lake's waters like he was a fish himself, negating the need to even leave them. Hell, it could even help him transform himself back into a human being for all he knew. This seemed to be a world of swords and sorcery after all. The possibilities were limitless! Ding! New Class available! Class: Bottom Feeder Rank: F Surviving on the waste and filth of other sapient beings, you exist below the bottom rung of society, living in the dirt beneath the ladder.

Class Focus Scavenging Attributes Endurance, Perception, Dexterity Requirement: Consumption of an item considered trash by other Sapients. Enable Class? Bob just looked at the window for a moment, before quietly closing it to stare back at the muddy abyss he currently found himself in. Perhaps it was time to revisit his 'this is hell' theory.