Chương 7: Chapter Six

Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!' As Bob crawled the last few inches out of the small burrow – his eye and tassel desperately clawing at the sand for additional purchase – he found his normally expansive vocabulary cut short. The reason why almost leisurely exiting the hole not far behind him. Bob rolled twice down the mild dune surrounding the burrow, before instantly dropping dead to the sand below.

His nonexistent heart seeming to stop as the unholy combination of a moray eel and an axolotl gave his now lifeless-appearing body a confused expression. The same expression it had given him over the last minute or so as it had carefully nosed him out of what was apparently its den. It seemed to trust his 'playing dead' bit just as much now as it did the first time it had found him, leaning its dangerously fanged snout down to once more nudge him away. Though this time putting a little more 'oomph' into it.

Given the water viscosity, Bob found himself shocked by the amount of distance the creature managed to get with his less-than-aerodynamic form. Shock which ended up being quite useful to him, actually. Tightening his grip on his newest treasure before it could get lost mid-transit. The bit of metal held securely by his clothbound mouth. Despite his possessive behavior, the object clutched in his jaws wouldn't be netting him any experience. Its shine being that of polished iron, rather than anything more precious.

Something which had left him more than a little confused when he'd first spotted it a few hours ago. The bright glint of metal from the darkened hole not triggering any of the newer sensations which felt jumbled up inside his brain. Frankly, he'd left the area feeling slightly disgruntled, all things considered.

'Not so much now, however' Bob thought to himself, jeweled eye staring at the item he'd spent a great deal of effort back-tracking for.

'Though those happy feelings staying around will depend on how well you do your job'. He smiled slightly around his prize, before then making sure that the eel-otl wasn't lingering around the area, righting himself, and beginning to trudge away. Using the still visible burrow to find his way back to his trail – tiny scrunching marks heading in a straight line across the lakebed – and beginning to follow it to a location some hundred or so feet in the distance.

It felt like it had been about sixteen or so hours since he'd found the boot. Perhaps more, perhaps less. It being hard to accurately judge time in the eternal murkiness he was surrounded by. Either way, long enough for Bob's respect for the lake's size to grow exponentially. Especially considering he was still heading downhill. The thing appeared to be never ending. With him having traveled what felt like miles at this point, even at his snail-like pace.

Not having to rest, eat, sleep or relieve himself adding quite a bit to his available travel time. Though, admittedly, some of that had been taken up by his occasional stops to search for treasure. Not all of which, luckily enough, had been failures. Over his journey, he'd managed to piece together another three copper pieces to add to his hoard. Something he felt oddly confident was actually the proper name for the mess of metal rattling in his belly. Two of those were from actual copper coins.

Both of them found near a tattered mess of what looked to be leather clothing and rotting rope. The last one coming in the form of a singular, weighty cufflink. One so thoroughly patinaed that Bob questioned whether the system would even recognize it. It did, however. And, oddly enough, part of him had known it would before he even dropped it down his gullet. Because, unlike the object currently in his felt-lined jaws, his eye had been instantly drawn to it.

Uncaring that there was no shine or glimmer coming off any portion of its green and oxidized form. In fact, without whatever inborn ability 'mimics' seemed to have for spotting treasure, Bob doubted he would have found any of his recent acquisitions. Most having been at least partially hidden under piles of silt and debris. A fact which had at least slightly endeared him to the otherwise off-putting sensations. Though he still wished they were a little less… fervent.

Then again, without that fervency, he might not have found the wonderful little treasure trove he was only a few minutes from returning to. Its enormous silhouette slowly beginning to form in the distance. After a bit more trudging, the vague shadow began to solidify. Revealing itself to be a massive boulder easily twenty times larger than the next biggest rock he'd come upon so far. One which, for some reason, seemed to attract the attention of an unreasonable number of the larger local fish.

For that reason alone, he nearly hadn't searched it. Luckily, despite the threat of grievous bodily harm, something had inspired him to stay. That something being a massive crack in the rock that seemed filled to the brim with garbage and smaller pieces of debris. One large enough that Bob's human form could have stepped inside of it. Even had he still thought escape was minutes away and floodwaters not long after that, his new instincts probably would have pushed him to take a peek.

As it was, he honestly couldn't be sure how long he'd spent crawling through the crevice and searching through what garbage he was able to shift. But it was long enough that the area outside of it now looked like a debris field. Bits of broken pottery, unidentifiable scraps of fabric or leather and a truly unfortunate number of bones scattered across the sands. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. What he'd eventually found had been more than worth it, however.

His eye locked onto them as soon as he pulled himself within view. The 'mimic' parts of his brain feeling desperately relieved that nothing had taken them while he'd been gone. Even if he knew rationally that the chances of that were beyond miniscule. There, at the back end of the crevice, resting between the half-buried jawbone of an unknown animal and the rusted-through remains of what might have been a helmet, were two dully shining coins. Something which, normally, wouldn't be that impressive.

He had over a dozen currently rattling around inside him, after all. If it wasn't for that fact that these coins weren't made of copper. Instead, as Bob's eye stared avariciously down at his soon-to-be property, they shone a delightful silver light back into it. A light which made him nearly salivate at the thought of adding them to the pile inside him. The problem was, how to get to them.

The coins had obviously been lingering at the bottom of this reservoir – and at the back of this cracked boulder – for quite some time. Over the years, the layers of sand and silt they'd been buried in had apparently begun to calcify. Eventually gluing them and a scattering of stones and pottery shards into a crude and rather unpleasant looking mosaic. Were he still the proud owner of a set of opposable thumbs and the strength of an adult man, he doubted it would have posed much of an issue for him.

Unfortunately, given that he wasn't, the things had looked pretty well stuck. His wild flailing doing nothing more than brushing aside silt and pebbles. Luckily, while he might not have the hands, body or head of a man, he did have the mind of one. And with that came access to mankind's preeminent ability. That being the creation and use of tools. At least to what limited ability his current form allowed. And with what limited resources he had available. Which was where his newest toy came into play.

As he finally reached the coins, Bob spat out what he hoped would be the instrument of his silver's liberation. The shattered remains of what was once the hilt of some sort of small tool or weapon. Now reduced to a square polished pommel cap and a jagged, rusty bit of tang. Near perfect for Bob's use as a pickaxe. At least, those were his hopes.

Hopes which buoyed his limp form as he picked the hilt back up, gripping it tightly between his hempen jaws before swinging it ferociously down at the mass of congealed sand beneath him. Only to have it immediately slip from his feeble grip upon impact. The first failed attempt Bob dismissed as merely bad luck. Picking his tool back up and rearranging his hold on the squared off end before having another go. Only for the previous result to unfortunately repeat itself.

His 'pickaxe' floating far enough away this time that he was forced to scrunch his way over to fetch it back. After another half-dozen or so failed attempts, Bob found himself simply staring down at the bit of fallen metal for a moment. Searching for some way to make this work. All parts of himself united in refusing to leave the two coins behind.

'I knew I was weak – my stat page was pretty clear on that – but I didn't think I was this weak. Heck, the grip I had on that redhead alone should have been-' Bob stopped, the solution finally hitting him. The obviousness of it making him feel a bit foolish. Though, honestly, he wasn't sure if it was for not thinking of it before, or for believing it would work in the first place. Either way, since it wasn't like he had any other options, Bob decided that he might as well give it a shot.

Picking up the piece of iron back up and steadying himself. Trying to establish a rhythm in his mind. Eventually he pulled back and, with the full extent of his strength, hurled himself at the pile of dirt in front of him. Only this time, right before impact, he also did something else. Something which came with near-instantaneous results. Ding! Congratulations! You have gained your first Skill experience points! Skill experience is gained by utilizing skills in various ways!

With higher ranking skills requiring more onerous utilization than lower ranking ones. Be careful! As how you utilize your skills may dictate how they evolve in the future! Unarmed Path Skill Bite (F) Level: 1 - Exp: 10/100% The most common attack available to a living creature. Damage and bite force are increased per level.

While Bob was delighted to know that his attempt to use a skill worked, and even more so at the knowledge that they could evolve, he despaired slightly at still seeing the rusting piece of iron fly from his grip. Given the earlier theatrics of his teen benefactor/victim, he'd felt convinced his bite force was nothing to sneeze at. He immediately sent out a prayer that the young man never becomes a father. Wouldn't want him to be crippled the first time his child grabbed on to his fingers.

Still, while he was slightly depressed by the outcome of his skill use, the fact that it could be used for this purpose at all, much less that it could gain experience from it, immediately put Bob in a much better mood. He'd honestly expected 'Bite' to just sit around, clogging up a skill slot. It might technically qualify as an offensive ability, but only if you had the speed or range of motion to make use of it as such.

The only things Bob had a chance of getting his jaws around were animals even slower than he was. Which probably limited him to clams and other freshwater bivalves. Learning that he could both use it as a utility skill and level it up in that capacity was a game changer. The idea of being able to evolve it in the near future filling him with a great deal of anticipation. Though not quite as much as the idea of what it might be capable of in the present.

The two silver pieces glinted temptingly at him as Bob readjusted his grip. It was time to get to work.