Chương 123: Chapter 121: Learning about the god slayer

We do come across a dungeon on our journey. It is both disappointing and heartening. It's disappointing because when we come to it, the whole place is empty. There's no experience to be had, because the dungeon is full of dead monsters. There's no treasure to be had, because the place has already been cleaned out. But it's heartening because it means that we're getting closer. She was here. She cleared this dungeon. We're on her trail. And more directly.

There's a lot we can figure out going through the dungeon that the god slayer cleared. We can learn a bit about her combat capabilities. Not in the sense of seeing how powerful the monsters she slew were; we know she's a high level, at least seventy two, so we know that she can take on incredibly powerful monsters. But we never had any idea of how she did it. Did she use magic? There's definitely evidence of it. Vincent is convinced that she has the magma spear spell, and at least one spell like Mab's Rage.

He says the signs of that kind of spell are hard to miss. She probably cleared most of the dungeon without actually having to go into it because of Mab's Rage. Makes sense. If her stats are all at 300, that means that she had a radius of 300 feet that the spell would cover. I don't think Mab's Rage cares about things like walls or hallways, so it might have reached through the entire dungeon in one go. She could have done her 300 points of damage per second to every monster in there all at once.

That would allow her to slay a bunch of them, and explains why so many of the monsters we find have no markings on them at all save for a few frost burns and wounds that come from shards of ice. But she doesn't just use magic. She's got a sword, too. Maybe two swords. No, at least two swords. The cuts are different. The wounds show at least three different weapons. Does she have a companion? Or does she just have three different weapons, and she swaps between them depending on her momentary need.

Or maybe she has a spell that animates a sword, and that's where the third kind of slash comes from. It's kind of interesting examining the dead bodies and looking at the blows that slew them. We can see the width of the blade that made the stab wounds, the thickness of the edge that made the slashing wounds, the almost surgical sharpness of the edge that made other wounds, and we can see the impacts from where there was a blunt attack. That's four weapons.

For some reason, I don't think she's got a companion, though. I think she's doing this all herself. Maybe she just equips whatever weapon is most appropriate, and is very careful as she moves through the dungeon. That would make sense, her being careful. Who knows where her respawn point is. If she isn't careful, she might be overwhelmed. Even the most powerful of us has our limits. Even she must worry about fighting all by herself. So she's careful, even as strong as she is. She must be patient, too.

Moving through the dungeon room by room, carefully choosing the weapon that would be best in that circumstance. You can also tell she's careful because of the complete and total lack of treasure. Whatever was here, she took all of it. We find two empty treasure chests, both with piles of broken lock picks next to them. But what we don't find is any treasure left behind by the monsters that she slew. There are no coins waiting to be picked up, no gemstones or anything that got kicked underneath something.

There's nothing. She was careful, she was methodical, and she was thorough.

"I feel like we've learned a lot about her," I say as we leave the dungeon.

"About what kind of person she is, I mean."

"And about her capabilities," Vincent agrees.

"I am more worried now about fighting her than I was before."

"She does seem to be able to do it all," Ash agrees. Then she looks at me.

"Kind of like you, Caleb."

"What?" I do not think of myself as someone who can do it all. I don't know where she's getting that from.

"Think about it," she says.

"El, Gigi, and I are the front line fighters. We're specialized to do that. We have high strength, high vigor, and weapons and armor that are meant to allow us to stand on the front and fight an enemy toe to toe. Vincent is a ranged fighter, specialized to cast magic from a distance and never close with the enemy. But you've built yourself to be able to do either one.

You can stand at the front with us, like you did when we fought the orc army, or you can stand back and use your bow to devastating effect, like you did with the oni, at least at first. But when they charge at you, you switch over without any difficulty, and manage to hold them off just as well as the rest of us." I shrug.

"I have a really high agility," I say.

"It helps me be versatile."

"That's what I'm talking about," she says.

"You're built for versatility. Could you take one of us on in a direct fight? Maybe, maybe not. But you could meet any of us pretty solidly at any range. You can step into any role we need you for in a fight."

"So you're saying you think she's a ranger?" El says.

"I don't know about that," Ash says.

"I haven't gotten a good idea of her class. I'm just saying that she seems versatile. She seems able to do whatever she needs to do in any given situation. And it reminds me of Caleb."

"I'm flattered," I say. I was sure that if one of us was most like the god slayer, it would be El. She's the most powerful of us, I think. But then I really consider it, and Ash is right. I've got all my stats above a hundred. I can be the face of the party if I need to be, or I can be the spell caster. I can shoot from range or I can charge up close and personal. I can sneak, I can set and disarm traps. I can heal. I can pretty much do it all.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. I built myself that way so that I didn't have to rely on anyone. So that I could travel by myself and not have a glaring hole in my capabilities. I never really considered that the god slayer would do the same thing. But of course she would. If she's by herself, of course she makes sure she doesn't have to rely on anyone else. Naturally she's good at everything, and hasn't put all her eggs in one basket. Obviously.

"So what does that tell us?" I ask.

"That you're the one most likely to guess at her motives or her choices," Ash says.

"You're the one most likely to think the way she does. Because all of us chose something to be good at and got really good at it. You're the only one who considered all the options and tries to be good at everything, even if it means that you can't be the best at anything."

"You've also been through the death cycle more than any of us," El points out.

"At least two more times than either of us. So you're probably the closest among us to be a match for her."

"I don't want to fight her," I say.

"I don't think that's in any of our best interest."

"The fact remains," Ash says, "you're the one most likely to know how she thinks. Because you think the most alike." We leave the dungeon after I spend nearly an hour trying to find her foot prints. I do eventually find a trail that I think might be hers. It's an old trail, though. It's rained at least once since she was through here, so most of the trail has been washed away. Still, it's something, and the print that I do find tells us even more about her. It tells me that she's not that tall.

Maybe five feet and change, but not much change. Five four at the outside. And she's got a body like an elf, not a human. She moves quickly and confidently, from what I can see of the print. It's just one foot print, but the way it's balanced, the way the weight shifts a bit as she turned her head to look around, it all paints a picture. My tracking goes up to 31, so I'm pretty confident that I'm not just making this up or imagining it. I think I know what she looks like.

"I think she's an elf," I say.

"But not a forest elf. Maybe a mountain elf, but I don't think so. They were a bit more squat and stout, and she is lithe as they come."

"How can you tell she's an elf, though?" El asks.

"It's the shape of the foot," I say.

"The curve of the instep, the weight distribution. It all adds up together to paint the picture of an elf, maybe five foot two or five three."

"Does she have long hair?" This El asks with a laugh. I can't tell that from the foot print. I can tell a lot, but not that. I can't tell what color her eyes are, either. We all get a bit of a chuckle out of El's question, but I wonder if there's a way to tell. Maybe if I saw the prints of several people that were all the same basic height and shape, I could tell which of them had the longest hair. No, that seems ridiculous. Unless a hair falls out into the track, there's no way to tell that. Is there?

The track that I found isn't enough to use Find Path. For all I know, she stepped there and then cast a levitate spell like Vincent does, and there aren't any other prints to follow. But the one print gives us a basic direction – west – and it gives me a little bit of an idea as to what she looks like. We're still at least a week behind her, but I feel like we're getting closer, and we're learning more about her as we go. That night, before anyone goes to bed, Gigi pulls me aside.

"Sorry I didn't ask about the spooning," she says.

"It's okay," I assure her.

"I kind of liked it."

"Really?" She seems very hopeful, given her wide eyes. Beautiful eyes, too. Complete with the feline slit, though the slit is opened wide enough right now that you couldn't tell they were cat eyes without already knowing.

"I was afraid I was being too forward. I was just tired and didn't feel like taking Ash's bed."

"It's really okay," I say.

"It kind of, um, it kind of helped."

"Helped with what?"

"With all the intimacy stuff. All the worry about being around you guys, about the touching, the physical contact. It was nice."

"You're still hung up on all that, aren't you?" I shrug.

"Guilty as charged," I say.

"I can't help it. It just seems weird."

"When's the last time you had sex?"

"What?" I totally heard her, and I know exactly what she's asking.

"I know you haven't since the world ended. But how about before that? Had it been a long time?"

"Kind of," I say.

"But you have had sex before, right?" I laugh.

"Yes," I say.

"I'm not a virgin."

"You are in that body," she points out.

"But I see what you're saying. So how long ago was the last time? Has it been a while?" I nod.

"Yeah, it's been a while. A long while."

"How long? Like are we talking weeks or months?" I look at her. Of course she would think that weeks or months was a long time. She's gorgeous. Even without the added charisma, even without the feline movements, Gigi has always been beautiful.

"Years," I say.

"Plural." She doesn't make fun of me, which I was kind of expecting. She also doesn't look at me with pity. She just nods.

"That makes some sense, then," she says.

"What do you mean?"

"When you don't have sex for a while, it becomes more special. More important. If you're getting laid left and right, you don't really care. Like, you care in the sense that you enjoy it, but it just isn't that big of a deal. But when a long time passes, it becomes something almost sacred. Important. It stops being a dry spell and becomes something else, you know?" I nod.

"I do know," I say.

"I know very well."

"I'm just saying, it makes sense that you'd be hesitant. You've built sex up in your mind as something more important, something more significant. Which is not to say that it isn't, for you at least. But you've built it up, so you don't want to just get it over with." I nod again.

"Thank you," I say.

"That's exactly right. I don't know when it became so significant, but it really is. It really does mean something to me."

"I understand," she says. She puts a hand on my leg.

"And so does everyone else. You're not alone in this. We're all here for you. When you're ready." Then she squeezes my knee, stands up, and walks away, leaving me to my thoughts. Do I just want to get it over with? Would it be like ripping a bandage off? Is the first time back going to be bad? Should I just accept that and power through? Maybe that's all I have to do. Get the first one out of the way, let it be embarrassing or boring or dull or whatever it is. Then get back on the horse. Learn how to do it again.

The body will remember, but it might not remember the first time. And that's okay. No one is going to hate me if I'm not good in bed the first time. The first time is never good. Right? I keep thinking about it all through my watch. I don't come to any real conclusions.