System Synergist (OP MC/Skill combo LitRPG Tower-Climber)

[IronLung]

Synopsis:

They say no single Class can clear the tower.

So he'll master them all.

Ark.

A tower over 10,000 feet tall, with ten deadly floors—each a pocket dimension filled with monsters, hidden relics, and power beyond imagination. At the summit, a prize awaits: a single wish, granted to the one who reaches the top.

For centuries, warriors, mages, assassins, and crafters have challenged the Ark. None have reached the pinnacle. Many believe the Wish Granter is just a myth, a lie to keep challengers climbing.

But then Ryn Calder enters the tower.

His Class? The Synergist.

A fighter without limits. A strategist who wields the best of every Class path—Warrior, Mage, Rogue, and Craftsman—to forge the ultimate way forward. With every battle, every floor, he grows stronger.

His mission is simple: Conquer the ten floors. Claim the wish.

And crush anyone who gets in his way.

 

[IronLung]

He arrived in darkness, and in rain.

He walked alone, a dark cloak covering his broad shoulders, his heavy boots knocking against the cobblestone path that led into the city of Arkona.

The guards at the stone watch towers that flanked the city gate saw him approach. They hailed him, asking what business he had to attend to here.

They asked him half-jokingly, for they knew why he'd come. They knew why any traveler came to these parts.

But when he looked up and fixed them with his one good eye, all laughter stopped in their throats.

"The tower," was all he said.

They let him through without another word, and he walked through the city streets, paying little heed to the rowdy adventurers hanging around outside the tavern, nor most of the merchants setting up their stalls nearby.

He walked right up to only one of them – a stout, elderly man by the name of Gallus – and stopped before his meagre weapon's stall.

"Eh, anything I can get you, mate?" Gallus asked warily.

The stranger nodded at the array of weapons behind the vendor's back. "A spear."

From the look on Gallus's face, it was like he'd seen a ghost. He nodded once, producing a few different polearms, halberds, and spears for his newest, dark-toned customer.

The stranger pointed to one of them – a shorter Iklwa of [Uncommon] quality. It was the best the old blacksmith had.

"Ever since the party of Sir Gaius went upstairs," he explained sheepishly. "I ain't got much in the way of fresh blades. Maybe I can –"

"How much?"

The words caught old Gallus by surprise.

"Eh, fifty Gald."

The stranger grunted.

"How about 40, and I give your store a personal endorsement to my fellow Climbers?"

Old Gallus scoffed. "Listen, son, if you think I haven't heard that line before, you're in for a surprise. Last lad that came here and thought he had a 'special' Class turned out to be just a [Vagrant] with a silver tongue, nothing more! Tried to tell me the Gods had given him some special secret class. My ass! I'll accept 47 Gald and not a penny le-"

Suddenly, the stranger reached out and palmed the arm of the merchant – a gesture that all the townsfolk who were watching nearby knew almost intrinsically. It was the way one Climber identified their [Class] to another.

And from the way Gallus was practically shaking, what he'd just seen must have been something impossible.

"B-but that's-" he mumbled.

"Forty Gald," the Stranger repeated. "And I'll give your shop my personal recommendation."

Nobody saw if the stranger smiled when he said this, but Gallus began nodding his head like some puppet on loose strings.

"Alright," he said. "I think I can accept that…"

The stranger deposited his Gald in Gallus's hands and then walked away briskly, hefting his new weapon over his shoulder and leaving the Blacksmith in disbelief.

"Hey, old Gallus?" one young [Baker] barked as he left. "Who was that guy?"

Gallus looked at the coins in his hands in disbelief. He couldn't hide the smile that had crept onto his face.

"Someone we're all gonna know sooner or later," he said.

Rain continued splashing on the cobblestones of the city as the morning drew on, and those adventurers who hadn't drank their wounds and woes away in The Tipsy Troll or the Fluttering Fishmaiden taverns made ready to commence their daily grind.

Before them all, in the very center of the city, rose the great Ark – the white-gold tower that pierced the heavens and, some said, actually ended within the realm of the Gods themselves. Built to test the faithful, and the worthy – for the legend known to all people of Arkona was that he who challenged the tower and reached the peak of its tenth floor would be granted a single wish: anything their heart desired.

Adventurers had come from all over to this place – the birthplace of their glory – and tried their luck with the threats within. Some had gone away with great treasures – strange, alien artifacts that could bend the laws of reality themselves. Others had found weapons of all stripes, and armor that they sold on the Black Market across Arkona. Most, however, had found nothing but despair. Ark giveth, and Ark taketh. Most of the time, entering the great tower meant one thing for certain: death.

So, when the new spear-wielding adventurer entered the Guild of Ascension and asked for official System Verification to register as a Tower-Climber, the spectacled Elven clerk who greeted him treated him like any other newbie.

"Welcome!" she chirped, brushing a thread of crimson hair out of her eyes. "I'm Stephanie, and I'll be your Guild Receptionist today."

In response, the stranger simply nodded.

A quiet one, Stephanie thought, her Elvish eyes quickly running up and down the man. He's a little older than most. Maybe around 25. Gruff and…not entirely unattractive for a human guy. Makes a change from all those hyped-up youngsters we get nowadays, I guess…

"Just fill in this form," she said cheerfully, handing him a thin sheet of paper. "Sign here, here, and…here. Oh, and please remember to read over subsection B5, the part regarding your safety and possessions once inside Ark itself. We cannot be held legally responsible for any loss of weapons, armor, limb, or your mental stability when you traverse the inner floors. Subsection C4 also stipulates that –"

Before she finished her usual spiel, the new adventurer had already handed her back the form fully filled out.

"Done," he said simply.

She twitched her ears and blinked twice. In the air, she could sense the essence of faint magical energy.

A spell of Deft Hands? she thought. She looked at the strange, cloaked adventurer with new eyes now, desperate to [Appraise] him just to satisfy her curiosity.

No, she thought. That would be against Guild regulations. But…still. How did he cast that spell without me even seeing him do it?

She nodded once, politely.

"This looks all above-board," she said with a smile, checking over the papers and seeing nothing out of the ordinary at first glance. "Now, we'll just mark you as a [Bronze] adventurer. In case you aren't familiar with our Ranking system, your rank will remain [Bronze] until you clear level 1. Then you'll progress to [Silver] until level 3, [Gold] till level 5, and [Celestial]", she added with a scoff of disbelief, "if you manage to reach level 8. That's the highest anyone's ever gone."

The stranger nodded, accepting her hand and the bronze rune she etched into his palm.

"You'll have access to all our [Bronze] level services here at the Guild for now. If you're ever in need of Recall potions, Brunhilde, our resident alchemist, can help you stock up. Now, if you'd like to buy some preliminary equipment, I'd recommend –"

She froze. Her eyes had just glided over the [Class] of the stranger.

A solid lump formed in her throat. Her mind fumbled, trying to find new words…

"I'll head in with what I've got," the stranger said. "Heard there's plenty of basic loot on the first floor. Thanks for the tips."

He hefted his spear over his shoulder and walked back outside without turning back once, leaving Stephanie staring blankly after him.

"It…can't be…" she whispered.

"Hey!" the next adventurer in line shouted. "Hey, hey, Miss Steph? I got some loot to bank here!"

She barely paid him any heed. The word she was quietly mouthing was a word she never thought she'd ever see written down on a Guild form. Let alone one that she'd just drafted up.

"…Synergist."

Back outside, the great tower of Ark watched impassively as the first Climbers of the day readied themselves for their ascent.

Before any ascension began, it was common to offer a prayer at the local chapel to one's Patron deity. Every adventurer owed their [Class] to a different God, and as the Gods were often fickle beings, it seemed proper to offer them proper prayers before battle. It was thought by most that the Gods looked kindly on those Climbers who brought home excellent loot in their name, and decorated their temples with treasures from the Ark that dared to defy their heavenly home.

But one man – the newest adventurer among in the city – did not participate. Instead, he walked right by every chapel on the final street that led towards Ark, ignoring those worshippers who watched him with disdain from inside their Gods' domain.

However, another man watching him from within a darkened alley was of a very different breed.

"Boys, lookie what we got here – a heathen."

The 'boys' chuckled as their leader nodded at the wanderer. Each of them wore a set of leather armor, and kept some blunt cudgels at their sides. Bloodied cudgels.

"You know me, boys," their leader continued. "I like to think that, as a God-fearin' man of the world, I should be my Brother's keeper."

His three comrades-in-arms laughed again.

"Seems like this guy don't need the Gods, don't it, Kharek?"

The leader smiled thinly, stroking his grizzled chin-beard as the thought occurred to him.

"Perhaps we should take a little donation from this lone wanderer," he said. "Up and attem, lads. We got our mark for the day."

The three leather-clad men nodded, each one ascending a different roof and taking up their positions. Kharek, meanwhile, sauntered out into the open sun, right behind the stranger.

He gave a little whistle before he addressed the dark-cloaked fellow. He and his boys had practiced this little script many times. New adventurers were easy marks, and as [Vagrants] it was practically in their blood to take them down on their way to Ark. This city was where the real treasure was, safe from monsters, and with plenty of hiding spots for a shrewd bandit. Why climb the great tower of death when you could ambush stupid adventurers here? The tower would take their lives eventually. All Kharek wanted was their loot, and he was low-level enough that the city guards mostly didn't care about his little operation. The Merchant's Guild who practically owned Arkona weren't bothered who spent money in their city or where that money came from. Just so long as all the [Merchants] could stay in business.

"Ahem," he coughed. "Good day to you, sir. I'm afraid I have to stop you right there."

The stranger kept on walking, eyes set on the looming tower above.

Kharek bristled. This fucking berk needs to learn some manners.

He took a throwing knife from his belt and tossed it with precision at the stranger's back, aiming for the neck. His [Artery-Shot] Weapon-Art never failed to incapacitate a newbie. It always found its mark. And even if it didn't outright kill his prey the skill gave him a 35% chance to paralyze his target for ten seconds straight. More than enough time to loot the body.

So, when the stranger turned swiftly and the knife merely grazed his shoulder, Kharek double blinked, making sure he was seeing things right.

"Apologies, my good sir," he said, regaining his composure and taking a bow. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Kharek Gaveston, [Vagrant] by the Path of Lokir, and I – hey!"

The stranger had simply continued walking.

"You – boys!"

Without missing a beat, his comrades loosed a volley of crossbow bolts at the stranger's feet, stopping him in his tracks.

"Now now," Kharek tutted. "We don't want any accidents, do we? We're all good citizens of Arkona here, traveler. And the problem is, you haven't paid your God-tax today."

The stranger sighed, dropping his satchel and craning his neck. He turned to look at Kharek with eyes that displayed nothing but total boredom.

"The Gods aren't here," he said.

Kharek scoffed. Impudent little shit. The look on his face pisses me off enough that I oughta just kill him and stuff his body in the Tower base. Let the Guild guards find his corpse there…

"Good fellow, I'm a reasonable man," he laughed. "Just 80 Gald and we'll allow you passage to the great Ark, where all your dreams come true. Refuse, and, well, we of the Ark anti-Heathen association can't let a subverter of the faith through…"

He signaled for his boys to ready another volley.

Meanwhile, the stranger stared him down, unblinking.

"Call your men off," he said. "Or I'll have the tip of this spear lodged in your throat before they can take their next shot."

Kharek wanted to burst into hysterics. This grubby looking foreigner really did have a death-wish.

"Sir, we don't wish to be forced to take your coin. If you'll just comply-"

"I don't have anything to give you but your life, bandit. Put down your weapon and I'll let you keep it."

Fucking hubris, Kharek thought, spitting and gripping the daggers at his side.

"We warned you," he said. "Boys, time for-"

It happened in a flash. A brilliant, dazzling light shone in the street, like a lightning bolt, and the stranger was suddenly gone.

"Wha-"

Kharek's word never left his mouth. Instead, a long stream of blood gushed from his throat – at the place where the stranger's spear had pierced it clean through from behind.

"H-ho-"

The stranger withdrew the weapon, kicking Kharek away like he was a ragdoll.

"Boss!" his comrades yelped. "Motherfucker!"

Rain danced along the bloodied edge of the stranger's spear, and with another flash of light, he was up on the first roof, right beside the first crossbowman.

"Ah!"

The lad fired his bolt, clipped the stranger in the shoulder, and then watched in horror as the spear tip flew towards him with unnatural speed.

He brought up his weapon to block it and felt it splinter apart in his hands. The stranger's thrust went straight through his heart and he watched his HP trickle down to 0 before his eyes.

"B…boss…"

"Vesyr!' came the call of his two fellows from the other roofs. With cries of vengeance on their lips, they brought their crossbows to bear, and both fired a poison-tipped bolt infused by [Venom Coating] – one of the special Mystic Arts afforded to their Class.

But the stranger merely brought his spear to bear, still with their friend impaled on it, and used him as a shield to block the hits. They watched in horror as Vesyr was pierced by their poison bolts, his body twitching in death-spasm.

Then, in a flash of dazzling white light, the stranger was right in front of them.

One of them dropped his weapon and drew his dagger, while the other one produced a shortsword that he brought to bear with the speed that all [Vagrants] were known for.

Both of them knew that their slash attacks would land at this short distance. There was no way any spear-wielder could deflect both blows at once. From the way this stranger had moved, it looked like he walked the Path of the [Sentinel] and used some narcotic to increase his movement speed.

But when the shortsword-wielding bandit felt intense heat building up below his abdomen, he realized how wrong he was.

He looked down, saw the stranger's fist there, and managed to [Appraise] the spell before it fired off:

[Firebolt, Novice Level] + [Unarmed Strike, Novice Level]

[SYNERGY CHANNELED]

[Synergy: Flaming Fist (Unarmed strike + Pyromancy)]

ACTIVATED

Next thing he knew, there was nothing but a flaming hole where his guts once were. He flopped like a fish and then fell from the roof, while his friend grappled against the stranger's spear-arm.

"How!?" he exclaimed. "W-what the fuck are y-!"

With a masterful pirouette that sent raindrops flying from his bloodied cloak, the stranger brought his [Flaming Fist] to bear against the wailing boy, striking him in the jaw and tearing through the entire lower half of his skull.

The boy fell then away from the stranger, who finally let the last bandit slide off his spear and fall in a bloody heap from the roof.

As he did so, he nodded approvingly at his System Notification:

Ding! Spear Proficiency increased from 10 -> 13

Ding! Pyromancy Proficiency increased from 10 -> 12

Ding! Unarmed Combat Proficiency increased from 10 -> 12

Kills and corresponding level increases, he thought. His first gains since he'd got his Class. The bandits weren't of the Tower, so they wouldn't give him any EXP towards a level up.

It wasn't how he'd wanted to start this journey. But he despised those who preyed upon lower-level adventurers. It betrayed nothing but their sheer incompetence as Climbers. Plus, he wasn't about to fall to petty robbers before he'd even properly started his ascent.

His mission was far too important to fail before it began.

By this point, a crowd of worshippers had gathered – men and women who had heard the commotion and found Kharek and his goons up to no good again. They emerged from the chapels and nearby shops to try and catch the scoundrels before they slunk away into the shadows but instead found the gang dead, and Kharek coughing up blood on the ground.

The stranger jumped back down, dusted off his cloak, and nodded to the first guardsman patrol on the scene.

"Vagrants," he said. "Took care of most of them. Might want to question this one. He's probably got more boys hiding to ambush first-time Climbers round these parts."

The guardsmen nodded, staring blankly at the stuttering mess that Kharek had become. Slowly, they moved to pick up the bandit leader by the scruff of his bloody hair. The stranger simply hefted his spear, wiped it clean of crimson stains, and continued his trek towards Ark's base.

Meanwhile, whispers ran up and down the crowd of Climbers.

"Did you see how fast he was?"

"Never mind that – did you watch what he did on the roof?"

"He cast a firebolt with a punch – all while wielding a spear in his other hand."

"What? But – but that's impossible. He shouldn't be able to-"

One voice, shrill and panicked, suddenly cut through the murmurs of the crowd:

"W-who are you?!" Kharek wailed as he was taken away.

The stranger turned before he stepped into the tower, answering the question as simply as he could:

"Ryn Calder," he said. "I'm here to claim my wish."

 

[IronLung]

Ryn halted before the massive marble doors of Ark in the wake of his Bandit decimation.

He took a breath, savoring the sight of the Tower that, up until this point, had existed only in books and mumbled legends for him. He'd traveled far to get here. He'd endured much already on the perilous road between his home village and the great city of Arkona.

Now, finally, it was time for his real journey to begin.

He took a step forward and palmed the great doorway that stretched on above. Spectral blue energy shimmered round his hand, and in his mind he heard a voice make a demand of him:

DECLARE YOURSELF.

"Ryn Calder. Synergist," he said.

There was a feeling of electric power passing through his arm – the Tower making sure he wasn't just some Classless who was trying to gain entry to its domain – and then, slowly, the great doorway flew open and bathed him in a white light.

His Status Window rolled across his face next – the sign that the Tower had accepted him as a Climber:

Name: Ryn Calder

Level 1

EXP: 0

Class: Synergist

HP: 30/30

EP: 30/30

SP: 45/45

MP: 0

Current Weapon: Spear [Uncommon] DMG 15 (Piercing)

Weapon Art: Unfaltering Thrust

Prepared Spells: Voidstep (Novice), Firebolt (Novice)

He was thankful now that he could track his skills more easily. It was one of the main issues with being born with a [Class] in this world: you could increase your Skill Proficiencies, but unless you entered Ark, you would never truly improve. Entering the Tower and committing to a climb brought with it the ability to see yourself gain more Skills, grow, and advance in the ranks. Even if you didn't want to make it to the top.

He double-checked his prepared spells before entering:


1. Firebolt.

Memory Path: Elementalism

School: Pyromancy (Novice)

Type: Direct Damage

Effect: You conjure a ball of flame that deals 10pts of Fire DMG on a single target (Ranged Projectile)

Range: 15 ft

Cost: 5 Essence


2. Voidstep

Memory Path: Elementalism

School: Aerosophistry (Novice)

Type: Utility

Effect: You summon a gust of ethereal wind to carry you 5ft (Horizontal/vertical movement)

Cost: 10 Essence.


These two spells, coupled with his melee capabilities, would prove essential within Ark, where lack of mobility and ranged firepower often crippled unseasoned Climbers.

He could hear a flurry of new adventurers behind him. A lot of them were just kids, by the looks of them, linking arms with the members of their parties and skipping merrily towards Ark like it was a playground.

But he knew better. This place was no children's paradise. One misstep didn't mean a wound, or an inconvenience. It meant death. He'd face challenges in there far more deadly than the random bandits he'd dealt with.

So, without waiting to be met by the other newbies, he stepped forward into the light.

At first, there was a feeling of weightlessness. Then, slowly, shapes began to resolve before him. Pine Trees. Fauna. Meadows. Verdant grassland. He was getting a picture of the first floor, and its Overland.

-The Forest of Tormalin-

He closed his eyes and waited for the feeling of movement to subside, holding his spear tightly in case any creatures were waiting at one of the new Climber entry points. In his studies of Ark and its first floors, he'd heard that some of the monsters in the bottom layer had gotten wise to where the new guys showed up, and had often banded together to meet them head-on.

And in the moment his boots touched the soft grass of the Forest, he knew just how right he was to be cautious.

Something flew through the air towards him before the bright light of the spawning portal even disappeared. A three-pronged disc – a Chakram – that had been launched by a small humanoid-shaped dog-being hiding in the branches of the trees above him.

Ryn activated [Voidstep] quickly – his short-range teleport skill that had helped him make such short work of the bandits outside – and dashed away from the blade, narrowly avoiding its razor-sharp sides. He rolled into a set of bushes beneath the treeline and heard his attackers bark down at him in fury.

He Appraised them quickly, checking their stats while two of them jumped down from the treeline to find him.

Kobold (x??)

LVL 1

HP: 25

EP: 0

Weapons equipped: Steel Chakrams, Rusty Broadswords.

He stayed low in the bush, fingers gripped tightly round the shaft of his spear while the dog-men rushed to sniff him out. These two were unarmored, and equipped with only broadswords, so it was obvious that they had some backup in the trees with Chakrams waiting to be fired. Ranged support, just in case they were facing off against a melee capable Climber.

Smart, for Kobolds, Ryn thought.

He wasn't about to underestimate even low-level monsters like these. The bandits he'd beaten outside were used to easy prey. That much had been obvious when they'd tried to get him to hand over his money voluntarily. But monsters in Ark were sly. They worked in groups, and they knew the common tricks new Climbers used against them. Many a young adventurer had been slayed for rushing in blindly and hacking away at Lvl 1 foes, thinking they would be a cakewalk.

Ryn could feel the danger these little beasts represented to the unaware. Sure, they looked scruffy, but they were vicious. Even if you managed to cut their weapons away from them, they still had their fangs – teeth that could tear through his leather armor and cloak.

He could hear them sniffing the crisp forest air, feeling him out. Their senses were acute. But he had a hunch.

They were monsters. But they were still half-canine.

He produced a small chunk of meat from his satchel and tossed it from his hiding place just as one Kobold crept towards him. The dog-man frowned, but his partner launched himself towards the meat like he hadn't eaten in days. In response, the Kobold closest to Ryn turned his back and barked something guttural at his chewing companion – probably telling him to pay attention.

And that lapse in concentration was all Ryn needed.

He focused, readied his spear, and drove it right into the Kobold's lower spine. The creature lurched, winded, before he wrenched the weapon up and pierced the Kobold's chest with one fluid motion, channeling his [Unfaltering Thrust] Weapon Art so that the creature's other organs didn't get in the way of him striking its heart. The beast fell away in a bloody heap, leaving its chewing friend momentarily confused.

Ryn launched himself from the bush with another [Voidstep], meeting the Kobold head-on as it tried to raise his meagre weapon. But an [Unfaltering Thrust] activated from a distance of only a few inches away was too fast for any basic broadsword parry. The beast looked down to see the spear lodged in his gut, and a [Flaming Fist] Synergy from Ryn finished it off.

Ding! Spear Proficiency increased from 10 -> 15

Spear DMG Increase!

Ding! Stealth Proficiency increased from 10 -> 11

Ryn couldn't rest on this small victory, however. Above, he heard the jackal-like roars of the remaining Kobolds and rolled away from their Chakrams, grunting as another one of them grazed his arm. He took cover behind an old oak tree and felt more of their vicious blades strike the bark behind him.

He looked down at the cut on his left arm and realized he'd have to bandage it up. Though he had the perks of the Synergist Class, he hadn't yet invested in any [Healer] skills – focusing instead on speed and pure DPS to carry him through the lower levels of Ark. If he managed to finish this group of monsters off, however, he reasoned that he'd probably have enough EXP for his first level up. And that meant a Memory Point would be his for the spending…

His HP wavered around 21/30.

Not bad, but not the kind of start I was hoping for. There's at least three of them up there in those trees, judging by the pauses between their attacks. Three Chakram strikes seem to come at once, meaning they probably each only make one attack each. I doubt they've got the skills to dual wield at their level.

He needed to make a decision: stay and risk more damage this early or sprint away and accept that he'd have to leave the loot behind. He could come back later. Maybe grind on simpler creatures.

But the thought of letting these dog-men stay here and potentially ambush other Climbers didn't sit right with him. Sure, he worked alone – he'd made a vow to himself that he'd stay that way ever since he'd set out for Ark – but that didn't mean he was about to sit by idly and let these beasts have their way with the newbies.

So, he steeled himself, cracked his neck, and activated [Voidstep] again.

He blinked across to another tree for cover and felt the distinct pings of more Chakrams slice through the air and embed themselves in the ground he'd cleared. He did the same thing again, bringing him closer and closer to his adversaries before he realized that he was standing at the tree they were using as their vantage point.

He sent his [Flaming Fist] Synergy into the tree and knocked the three of them loose, as well as the entire tree itself. The pine collapsed as its bark was splintered and consumed with fire, and Ryn was thankful that at least a Firebolt wouldn't spread its flames across the entire forest. Changes to the environment of a Floor often brought extra dangers to Climbers.

The three dog-men fell out of their branches and Ryn instantly dashed over to one before it got its bearings, performing a downward thrust through the back of its skull that instantly ended its life. The other two were faster to reorient themselves. They roared, drew their broadswords from their sides and charged Ryn in a fury, desperate to avenge their fallen brethren.

Ryn spun and managed to parry the first strike with the shaft of his spear, though the weight the blow sent him staggering back. The other Kobold managed to strike at his shin and draw blood before Ryn brought another [Flaming Fist] down on the back of the creature's neck, burning its fur and sending the little beast rolling to the ground.

It's friend, however, didn't let up. His came at Ryn again, this time bearing his teeth, and Ryn just managed to activate a quick [Voidstep] that brought him out of harms way. The Kobold screamed as it fell forward into another oak tree and got its fangs stuck on the bark, leaving it wide open for Ryn to puncture its hide with another [Unfaltering Thrust].

The beast yelped and slowly fell to the ground, eyes rolling back in its head.

As Ryn withdrew his spear from the slain Kobold's body, the last one blinked once, looked from him to his dead friend, and turned tail to run away in the forest – probably back to whatever lair it had spawned from.

"No," Ryn said aloud. "You won't be telling your friends about me."

He brought up his spear, balanced it on his shoulder, and focused his energy. He channeled Firebolt, feeling the flames begin to run up his weapon-arm and flow into the spear's tip.

[Synergy Activated: Infernal Spear]

[Firebolt (Novice Level)] + [Spear]

He opened his eyes, seeing the burned Kobold in the far distance, staggering through a series of bushes, and let the spear fly.

It traveled through the air without incident and, before the Kobold could even turn to see what was coming, embedded itself in the creature's back.

The beast cried out as the spear ripped through its hide and then sent an explosion of flame traveling through its body. It fell to the ground in a crumpled heap of charred flesh and fur.

Ding! Spear Proficiency increased from 15 -> 18

Ding! Pyromancy Proficiency increased from 12 -> 15


Enemies Defeated! Kobolds (x5)

EXP Gained: 100

Level up!

+1 Memory Point

Please choose a Stat to Increase:

[HP]

[EP]

[SP]

Ryn breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't enjoy the prospect of massed combat amidst these trees. Luckily, he'd spawned in an area where there was enough space for him to manage that final spear-throw. Otherwise, he'd had had to take up one of those broadswords and hope for the best.

He considered which of his Primary Attributes: Health, Essence, or Stamina, he would increase. A Level Up brought with it a deceptively simple choice, but Ryn knew it wasn't an easy one. As a Synergist, he couldn't afford to focus on just one upgrade. He was not a tank, he was not a pure mage, and he certainly wasn't someone who planned on running away from his enemies. However, his Magic + Weapon synergies had helped him out immensely so far. So, he decided he'd take some extra essence points to increase his mana pool.

[EP increased by 5]

New EP value: 35

Luckily, the Level Up had brought with it a full heal. Often, low level Climbers counted on quick level ups when they entered the first stages of Ark. As you progressed, however, it became less optimal to rely on them for more HP alone. You needed some magic healing – or enough money to buy potions.

And Ryn wasn't exactly rolling in cash right now.

He collected the loot from each of his kills – five broadswords, four chakrams, and 5 Gald carried between the beasts. The weapons would make for good backups, particularly the broadswords. He'd keep one and sell the rest to Gallus back in Arkona.

Before moving on, he looked at the most important part of his new Level 2 status: the Memory Point.

The true source of every Class's power. You got a single Memory Point from leveling up, and maybe a few from various quests and clearing dungeons on each floor. They were rare. And they were special. A single point had turned a fledgling Climber into a seasoned warrior. They allowed a Climber to meditate on their Class's Patron God's memories, unlocking powers beyond mortal ken. Passive abilities, coveted Mystic Arts, and even a few special Stances that could dynamically change one's combat style on the fly.

For most Climbers, the choice was simple: they just looked at the available Memory Tree during a Meditation Session and then picked the option they liked. Then, this would unlock further options, until they eventually progressed to the Tier 10 Memories. That was where the real power lay. The power to alter the world itself.

But for Ryn, the choice of how to spend a Memory Point was a little more complicated.

He needed to find a safe place to commence his first meditation. He sensed no immediate enemies around him, so decided to head East, through the pine trees and spruces that covered this area. As he walked, he was greeted by the sounds of chirping sparrows and mischievous foxes weaving in and out of undergrowth. It was hard to believe that only moments ago, he'd been fighting for his life in this place.

The forest seemed to stretch on forever, even as he knew that this floor had more than just trees and peaceful critters hidden around. The presence of that Kobold pack suggested organization – possibly a whole group nearby – and so he kept his guard up, ready in case anyone had heard his battle or had been watching from nearby.

However, what he found as he cleared another patch of bushes was a dim cave mouth next to a small clearing. A peaceful looking spot, and one that was populated by nothing but a few deer grazing and sipping on the sapphire pool of water that sparkled in the glade. They looked up, blinked at him, and then simply continued.

Ryn smirked. The simplicity of non-human life was a wonder to him.

He walked to the cave mouth and gave it a quick [Appraisal], seeing nothing but a small alcove covered with rocks inside. It would be a good enough spot to spend his new Memory Point. It's only occupant seemed to be a tiny, long-eared Mukrat that blinked up at him with its four oval eyes.

"You don't mind if I join you, do you?" Ryn asked.

The creature sniffed the dank air of its home with its long nose and then simply curled up to sleep. Ryn took it as a sign that he was welcome.

He sat, crossed his legs, and, keeping his spear close to his resting hand, allowed himself to enter the state of Trance that took him to the Memory Pantheons of the Gods.

For he did not just have a single God to pick from. He had them all:

Martial Pantheon

Selina, God of [Sentinels]
Graxkung, God of [Berserkers]
Mustapha Ai, God of [Kensai]

Magic Pantheon

Solus, God of [Elementalists]
Mephista, God of [Transmentalists]
Varla, God of [Neurosophists]

Mischief Pantheon

Kappra, God of [Vagrants]
Lokir, God of [Tricksters]
Fleance, God of [Troubadours]

Molding Pantheon

Gorelin, God of [Tinkerers]
Tealor, God of [Apothecarius]
Manus, God of [Weavers]


Every one of them offered the Climber a path towards greatness – each one of them offering skills that could push a mortal beyond their limits. But for Ryn, there was no single Path. He had a gift. He had something nobody else had: the chance to build a Path of his own.

And now, it was time to make his first choice.

 

[IronLung]

The Memories of the Gods swirled around Ryn as he meditated in the cave, each one of them offering him power beyond mortal abilities.

And yet, he could also feel a certain sense of…revulsion coming from them.

He'd felt it ever since his eighteenth birthday, when the day of his Naming came. His village had gathered round him and his family with pride, ready to welcome him into the world of true legends. The village was nothing but a backwater in the Glenfrost Hills. They hadn't had a Climber in a century. They thought the Gods had abandoned them. Ryn was to be their savior.

But when they realized what his Class was, their smiles had already faded.

They'd exiled him. They called him a freak of nature. But when he performed his first skill Synergy out on the road, he realized that there were certain benefits to being a freak. He didn't care if others looked at him and his Class with a sense of unease.

All he cared about was that he had to power to ascend Ark. Right to the top.

Now, Ryn knew the Gods feared him just as the villagers back home did. The Gods each craved a warrior to call their own. They craved a human to control – one who could be their own champion, for the Gods were like a pack of squabbling siblings, each one of them vying for control of Ark – the one thing they couldn't have.

But Ryn smiled as he began his Trance. They could feel him inside their memories – and they could feel that he belonged to no one. He could pick and choose who's power he took. And such power was his. No one else's.

But which to choose?

He looked over a few of them, scanning their trees laid out in the shape of each different God or Goddess.

"Firstly, the Martial Pantheon," he whispered in his meditative mindscape

Selina, God of [Sentinels]

The memories of the [Sentinel] improve your defensive combat capabilities, allowing you to absorb more damage and use a shield more effectively.

Graxkung, God of [Berserkers]

The memories of the [Berserker] improve your abilities to deal direct physical damage to enemies, as well as enhance your use of two-handed weapons and polearms.

Mustapha Ai, God of [Kensai]

The memories of the [Kensai] or 'Sword Saint' enable you to better use one-handed weapons, improve your attack speed, and allows you to dual wield weapons more effectively.

Defense, offence, or speed. The triad all warriors had to make up their minds about. Each of the martial Classes had allowed numerous adventurers to ascend Ark with a better start than others. However, most warriors would never be able to enhance their abilities with spells or enchantments, having to rely on other party members and merchants.

He surveyed the magic trees next, seeing that they each improved a different spell school:

[Elementalism]

The memories of the [Elementalist] enhance all elemental damage with spells drawn from the four elements.

[Transmentalism]

The memories of the [Transmentalist] fortify all spells that affect the fundamental compositions of the physical world.

[Neurosophistry]

The memories of the [Neurosophist] improve the use of all spells that affect the mental states of creatures and humans.

The three great spell trees. His only two spells he'd been granted by the mage he'd been apprenticed to as a youth, Firebolt and Voidstep, belonged to the sub-Elementalist schools of Pyromancy and Aerosophistry. If there was one spell tree he'd be interested in focusing on before any others, it would be this one. Upgrades to his bread and butter spells would take him far on the first floor. Most pure-Class mages started with four spells chosen from any school of their choice. He had one more slot to fill and reasoned he'd pick up another Elementalist spell to unlock some more Synergies. He'd open up the other schools later.

The other Memory Trees he decided to leave for now. The Gods of Mischief presented opportunities such as poison damage over time or sneak-attack bonuses, but those normally only worked well if delivered with a powerful weapon to begin with. That was precisely the reason most Mischief-focused Classes tended to focus on theft and quick dungeon raids without entering combat first and foremost. Or, like those cowards outside, they'd simply ambush Climbers without even entering Ark.

Although, the [Vagrant] tree would improve his hand-to-hand combat, but he mostly reserved that for the {Flaming Fist} Synergy – it being the very first example of his Class's special ability he ever discovered.

Ryn thought his best bet would be to enhance his damage as soon as possible. Defense meant little when his HP was still only 30. Quick kills would get him further than tanking damage at this level. The old adage of the best defense being a good offence was a cliché, yes, but if cliches would help him survive, Ryn would live by them.

[Voidstep] had been a lifesaver as a spell, but the short-range teleport meant nothing by itself. His spear had already gained an extra point of damage due to his increased Proficiency. Every five levels of Proficiency gained an adventurer such an upgrade no matter what their weapon was. Thus, even a stick could prove troublesome when wielded by a master of Blunt Weapons.

If he was lucky, another Level Up awaited him when he defeated his next group of enemies. His plan had been to get to at least Level 3 before entering the first proper Dungeon on this floor.

He lifted his hand and touched the star-studded feet of Graxxkung, Orcish God of Berserkers, and felt a rush of power surge up his arm.

[Berserker Memory Tree Link: Established]

Tier 1 [Mystic Art] unlocked!

Mystic Art: Mighty Strike

Effect: You make a single attack with your two-handed weapon that ignores all armor.

Cooldown: 20 seconds.

An excellent first addition to his skillset, and one that he could combine with the skills of both other trees, owing to the fact that a spear could technically be wielded with both two hands and one. This made it probably the most versatile weapon choice of all. Combining [Mighty Strike] with the spear's basic Weapon Art, [Unwavering Thrust], and it meant he could deliver at least one strike every ten seconds that both couldn't be blocked and would shred through enemy armor.

If Kobolds did populate this forest, he knew they'd be better equipped further in – especially if they had been ambushing adventurers.

He breathed deeply, feeling the strength of the great God of warfare flow into his muscles and tighten his tendons.

Then, when he opened his eyes, he saw a figure standing before him.

He rose quickly, grabbing his spear and bringing it up so that the tip was already at the newcomer's throat before even a second past.
In response to Ryn's weapon, however, the figure coughed a torrent of blood, stumbled forward, and fell to the ground.

Ryn withdrew, watching as the man tried rising to a crouch. When it was clear he couldn't move, Ryn bent down to get him up and set him against the cave wall.

He looked to be in his mid to late thirties, a bushy beard covering the lower have of his face. His eyes struggled to stay focused, and his hand gripped his chest, where a bloody wound seeped just above his heart. He wore a set of chainmail armor that had been scratched to pieces and a few fresh bite-marks had been raked across his neck.

Then Ryn saw the two arrows sticking out of his left shin.

"J…just do it," he coughed. "I'm – eugh – I'm dead anyway."

Ryn brought a finger to his lips before crouching low and fixing the man with serious eyes.

"How many?" he asked.

The guy shifted slightly, the twilight of the forest outside shining on his bloody face, and nodded. He knew what Ryn was asking.

"…five," he said. "I – I'm so-"

Ryn heard the arrow flying through the air, heading right for before it slammed into the wounded man's face. He spun, launched a firebolt from the cave-mouth, and managed to burn the projectile to a crisp before it could do any damage.

The howls of cackling dogs sang through the air right after.

"T-take it," he heard the old guy say.

Ryn looked down to see him offering his shield. It looked like a battered, scarred chunk of iron more like an actual shield. But he Appraised it and found…

Iron Tabard [Common]

Defense: -5 DMG taken from weapons of [Common] quality.

Negates all Physical Projectile Damage

…that it was better than nothing.

Ryn nodded as he took the shield, cracked his muscles, and dove from the cave.

Just as he emerged beside the stream he was hit with another volley of arrows. He brough up the shield and marched through the storm, activating [Voidstep] to take him forward with enough speed to make it to the first of the attackers – a Kobold who was currently taking aim.

His spear found the creature's neck before it could yelp for its comrades to help. The dog-man gargled its blood and then went limp instantly.

A rush of air announced the arrival of the next two attackers, and Ryn cursed himself for not realizing that they had been hiding in the pond nearby. They'd probably seen him coming and let their comrade die as a diversion.

Ryn spun, bringing up his shield to block the first one's strike. It's rusted axe bit at the iron tabard's thick hide and got stuck there, allowing Ryn to push him into the tree his brother had died beneath in order to avoid his fellow's forward thrust with a vicious looking rapier.

The Kobold grunted as Ryn kept it pinned with his shield, while his mate announced his next attack with a grunt and a sprint.

Ryn let his [Unwavering Thrust] do its work – striking out at the leg of the Kobold to send it rolling to the ground and then finishing it off with a stout kick to its snapping jaws. Meanwhile, he gave his trapped opponent another bash with his shield before sticking him through the gut, leaving him impaled on the tree yelping and coughing up his innards.

Then: the sound of something large flying right at him.

Ryn's eyes widened as he looked into the dying eyes of the trapped Kobold. Even though it was dying, embedded into the tree bark on his spear, a vicious smile was smeared across its face.

A trap…

Ryn moved to remove his spear from the creature's belly but the little beast held it in place. They'd known he was a spear user. They knew that maneuverability wasn't his strongest suit.

He blinked, [Voidstepped] to the pond by the cave, and watched as a twisted spear cut into the Kobold who'd been trying to keep him pinned. The beast didn't even make a sound. Its limbs simply flopped down as life faded from its body.

And that's when Ryn saw who it was who had launched the weapon. The beast who'd been the real hunter here.

It was a Kobold clad in chainmail that was far too big for him, wielding another spear that looked just as twisted as the one he'd launched. The little beast emerged from the bushes before the cave just as the twilight of early evening gave way to nightfall, and it wasn't alone.
Ryn heard snarls and growls that were far more fearsome than that which belonged to a simple Kobold. Beneath the armored beast, feral amber eyes gleamed in the dark.

The Kobold was riding upon a Direwolf.

Enemy: Kobold Raider (LVL 2)

Enemy: Direwolf (LVL 2)

His Appraisal didn't tell him how much HP the raider and his pet had, but Ryn reasoned that it wasn't going to be as little as the small fry.

The beast took one look at Ryn and howled to the rising moon.

Then it charged.

[Voidstep] carried Ryn to the wolf's side, and just before its rider could swipe at him he let his new Mystic Art rush through him, channeling [Mighty Strike]

The silver tip of his spear glowed with crimson as it lashed out, his arm muscles rippling with energy, and sliced right through the Kobold Rider's chainmail-covered breast. The dogman fell from his wolf in shock and fear, blood bubbling from its new wound.

It wouldn't be enough to kill it. And Ryn had bigger problems right now.

The Direwolf snapped its jaws at him as he jumped back, bringing up his shield and trying to bash the fearsome wolf away. But it was just as formidable as he'd read its kind were – its saliva coated fangs gnashed away at his tabard while its claws swiped at his skull. It managed to rake one claw down his left hand side before he sent a Firebolt right into its left eye.

It yelped, whined, and rolled into the pond to cleanse itself. Meanwhile, Ryn met the furious charge of the Kobold who had ridden it. The beast drew two shortswords from its side and struck out at Ryn with wild abandon, trying to strike the place where Ryn had already been wounded.

Ryn grit hit teeth, [Voidstepped] to the creature's right side, and tried to get a thrust in under his sword. He'd expected the creature to try and block him, but instead, it rolled under his legs and swiped at his back from behind.

Ryn staggered, feeling blood run down his spine beneath his cloak.

It anticipated my attack…smart little guy.

The Kobold grinned slyly, licking the sword blade that had drawn Ryn's blood.

No, Ryn thought as he crouched low, keeping his tabard up. It's just fought warriors who favor spears before. It knows [Unfaltering Strike] could block an attack. So it focuses on dodging.

The beast leaped to strike again, its vicious blades battering against Ryn's shield and pushing him back.

It thinks it knows all the weaknesses the newbies have…it thinks I'll just hide behind my shield until it breaks.

The beast kept up its relentless assault, each strike cutting deeper into the iron tabard until Ryn felt it give way.

But you've never met someone like me.

The Kobold's next two strikes were those it thought would end the fight. And they would have, if it had been fighting a normal spear and shield-wielding warrior.

But when it swung its weapons down, it was surprised to see that Ryn charged it with his shield this time, sticking the thing right in the Kobold's long-nosed face.

And then, he let loose the Synergy he'd been focusing on building all this time, ever since he'd realized he could channel [Firebolt]'s energy through his shield:

SYNERGY ACTIVATED:

Heater Shield

Pyromancy Spell + Shield bash

+10 Fire DMG. [Burn] Status applied to opponent.

Ryn watched as the Kobold wailed in agony and fell away from him, clutching at its burning face. The [Burn] status wasn't a high damage status, but on lightly armored foes it sent them rolling out of control. And that momentary lapse of combat effectiveness was all Ryn needed.

He kicked the Kobold round, placed his foot on its pelvis, and sent a [Mighty Strike] right into its heart, his spear tip effortlessly puncturing the chainmail armor it had pilfered from its prey in the forest.

He watched the creature foam at the mouth, shocked beyond all reason, its eyes darting between Ryn and his glowing red shield.

Then, finally, those eyes closed shut forever.

Ryn wrenched his spear free from the beast and, panting, turned to the wolf that had just emerged from the pond again.

Their eyes met. Neither moved.

"You really miss your Master that much?" Ryn asked.

The creature gave a grunt, almost as if it understood his words. It narrowed its eyes at him, scratched at its wounded one in thought, and then promptly turned tail and dashed away into the woods.

"You're smarter than your Master was," Ryn said as it left. He decided he could let the creature go. He wasn't exactly interested in going toe-to-toe with a fully grown Direwolf right now.

Ding! Spear Proficiency increased from 18 -> 22

Spear DMG Increased!

Ding! Elementalism Proficiency increased from 15 -> 16

Ding! Shield Proficiency increased from 10 -> 13

EXP Gained: 150

Not enough for another level up, but he was nearing it. He breathed in the cool night air of the forest before trudging back to the wounded man in the cave. To his surprise, he was still alive.

"They're gone," he said.

The guy craned his neck to the side. His eyes were practically bulging out his head.

"You…I saw…"

Ryn crouched beside him, offering him a few bandages from his pack.

"No," the Climber said. "I – no. My Climb's done."

"You still breathe," Ryn replied. "While we breathe, our Climb is never done."

The chainmail warrior grunted and laughed, coughing up fresh blood.

"You – heh – you're offering to help me even when I brought them…to you?"

"As far as I see it, you brought some good equipment and some sources of EXP my way. Considering this is my first night, I'd take that as a positive."

The wounded warrior didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"I'm – look, I don't know who you are, but I'm…I'm done. Came here to cure my ma's illness but…shit…I've been on the First Floor for at least three years now. Ma's probably…eugh…probably dead…"

Ryn watched as the warrior brushed away his attempt to bandage his wounds.

"Even if you help me…I'm no use here. Thought this armor would…do me some good but…Kobold camp to the North was the end for me. Couldn't even kill…a bunch…of damn dogs…this life…it ain't worth it for –"

The warrior stopped, looking at the Recall Potion that Ryn had just produced from his pack.

"I brought two," he said. "Take it. After all, there's three things I owe you for now: a decent piece of equipment, good EXP, and some information on where I can get more. That means your time here's been worth something."

He pressed the potion into the warrior's shaking hands before starting to bandage up his own wounds.

"The Guild will patch you up," Ryn said. "Then you can decide if you're done or not."

The wounded warrior watched Ryn like he was staring at a ghost. But he accepted the potion.

"You really wanna take on that camp…by yourself?" he asked.

In response, Ryn merely flashed him a smile.

"…if you manage it, tell 'em hi from Marvin. Marvin of Tildebank."

Ryn nodded before leaving Marvin to whatever fate he chose. It wasn't his place to force him to go on living. He merely gave the warrior the choice to continue on that he thought he never had. And, as he began walking away from the cave mouth, he smirked to himself as he saw the faint purple glow of the Recall potion being used.

"A whole camp of Kobolds to the North…" he then said as he began looting the bodies of his slain foes.

It would be where they were all coming from. And probably the place where they stored all their pilfered loot from adventurers on this Floor.

Ryn smiled as the thought crossed his mind.

It would be his first real challenge here.

 

[IronLung]

Loot acquired:

[Common]

Rusted Broadsword x1

Rusted Shortsword x2

Gnarled Shortbow + Quiver x1

Gnarled arrows x25

Iron Chainmail (Medium Armor) x1

Ryn took note of his new equipment as he trudged on through the Forest of Tormalin, feeling the thin rays of moonlight pierce through the tree canopy above. He decided to don the chainmail for some extra protection. Medium armor offered a good balance between defense and maneuverability. Coupled with his new iron tabard, he'd improved his defensive capabilities at least threefold in the past few hours he'd been here:

Iron Chainmail [Common]

Defense: -10 DMG taken from weapons of [Common] quality.

He flexed his muscles, getting used to the weight of the armor before resuming his journey towards the Kobold camp location. He knew the risks it carried with it, but a centralized source of EXP was too good an opportunity to pass up. He needed to be Level 3 at least before he entered the first proper Delve on this level – the first real step on the road to overcoming the first floor.

Three Delves – three dungeons-within-dungeons that spawned at various level thresholds for every Climber – were necessary to complete before one could face the Guardian of the Floor and ascend to the next level. Ryn knew much from his arduous studies of Ark's legends. But even those legendary beasts were unknown to him. He'd have to be ready to face them when the time came. More than ready.

He considered using his Recall potion to head back to Arkona and sell the excess goods. But resupplying now would be pointless. A single potion cost 150 Gald alone – no paltry sum for a fledgling adventurer – and carried with it its own risks. The dazzling light generated by the potion, especially in the pitch darkness of night, was like a beacon that called monsters to one's 'anchor' on the floor. As soon as you recalled back to town with your pockets full of Gald from selling your hard-won equipment, you'd be devoured by an army of beasts.

Ryn kept his eyes on the gnarled branches as he moved below them, feeling the ground become more uneven and rocky as he advanced towards the position Marvin had told him about. The Kobold camp would be a challenge that was worth overcoming, and taking it over would provide him with a solid defensive position in the floor from which to enter Trance and Recall in relative safety.

As he moved through another set of dark brambles, he paid attention to the sounds of footsteps nearby. Heavy, multiple footsteps – the kind made by travelers laden with burdens. Peeking through the brush, he saw that this section of the forest opened up into a clearing where two Climbers were currently passing through. Ryn decided to keep low, employing his Stealth skill, and sticking to the shadowed boughs of the trees to pass them by without incident.

One of them was bleeding from his forehead. Another one was frantically looking around, desperate, probably delirious from the heat he felt in his platemail armor.

Ryn frowned. Platemail was rare to see on a Level 1 Climber. Rarer still was the sight of one wearing it being so battered and broken. It looked as if something large and ferocious had torn the entire left shoulder-pad to shreds.

"B-bastards…" the bleeding man spat.

"I told you, don't speak, Drevel," his platemailed friend whispered. "Dunno if it can still hear us."

"Why…" his friend coughed, apparently not hearing the warning. "Why did we ever trust that…bastard!?"

His friend said nothing. He merely grunted and kept moving, probably towards anywhere that seemed safe.

Ryn considered telling them about the cave he'd just left behind. But judging by the state of these men, and their apparent betrayal by one of their own, they probably wouldn't believe him anyway. He'd simply be wasting time they all didn't have.

Every second in Ark counted. So, without waiting to hear anything more, Ryn moved on, remaining low to the ground.

It sounded like there was something worse than Kobolds out there.

***

Eventually, he came to the very eastern edge of the forest, where the tree canopy gave way to a set of old, ornate ruins carved from ancient marble. Crumbling walls and ancient turrets jutted from the earth and displayed engravings of woodland creatures – Nymphs, Sylvans, Fauns – frolicking around a golden sun motif. Locations like this were common in Ark, scattered throughout all floors mortals had set foot in. Most scholars had no idea where they'd come from. Remains of an ancient civilization, maybe, or simply buildings taken from another place in space and time by the strange spectral distortions that operated within the Tower's floors. Regardless, there was always treasure to be found, and Ryn approached cautiously, his skills that little bit more enhanced by this point in the night:

Ding! Stealth Proficiency Increased from 11->15

Sneak Attack DMG Upgrade!

He checked the new stats on his spear:

Current Weapon: Spear [Uncommon] DMG 17 (Piercing)

Weapon Art: Unfaltering Thrust

Two extra points of damage based on his proficiency increases. One for pure spear combat and one for stealth. He'd made good progress – the beauty of the stealth skill was that it increased purely from being within the vicinity of any living creature that couldn't detect you. Ryn had passed at least four other adventuring parties on his way here. Even without any combat, he'd trained up his skill under cover of darkness.

But the ruins gave him little in the way of cover. He moved towards one crumbling pillar and then, making sure there were no enemies approaching from the perimeter treeline, leaped over and crouched behind another.

In the middle of the ruined building – something with a domed roof that might have once served as a chapel – sat a small wooden treasure chest.

And a collection of five unmoving bodies around it.

Five naked bodies.

Only the greenest of the green fell for this trap. Yet, fall for it they would, every time. Desperation often pushed unseasoned Climbers to run for any loot they could. But this chest was obviously trapped. Worse still, it looked like it had been set up by some Climbers themselves who had looted the sorry fools who had fallen for the ruse – Ryn doubted the Kobolds here had the intelligence to set up such a sophisticated trap on their own.

He picked up a loose piece of stone and tossed it at the chest, trying to trigger the trap mechanism. Of course, nothing happened – it couldn't be that easy. He probably needed something bigger.

He opened his inventory bag and equipped the gnarled shortbow he'd pilfered from the dead Kobold back at his cave sanctuary. Then, with the artificial moon of the forest hanging high over him, he fired a single shot at the foot of chest.

Nothing. Not a single bird even stirred in the trees.

And then –

CRACK.

The chest snapped open, revealing a set of glistening white teeth and a lolling, saliva streaked tongue that snapped at the arrow and broke it apart. The tongue retracted back into the chest, and with a hideous snarl, the entire thing began to move.

First, a set of ghastly black arms sprung from its sides, each one ending in thick, blood-red nails that looked like they could slice across Selinite Steel. Next, a pair of grey spindles protruded from its bottom, elevating the chest to the height of the domed roof itself.

Ryn cursed under his breath. This was no regular trap.

It was a Mimic.

And a nasty-looking one, by any measure. Such creatures were ravenous, normally voracious in their appetite. But this one had clearly been wounded already – Ryn could see the slices and gorges running down its claws and arms. It must have been where some of those lucky enough to escape its lair with their lives had managed to strike at the beast.

But a weakened Mimic was more dangerous than a healthy one. Appraising the creature told Ryn that even in an injured state this thing was trouble:

Ruin Mimic (Level 3)

Loot: Uncommon

HP: 45/80

Eighty HP…Ryn wondered. It was insanity at Level 3. But then, creatures of Ark didn't always play by the same rules. Considering the fact that there were probably some Climbers who were benefitting from this thing's massacres, maybe they'd powered it up.

I can't leave it here, Ryn thought as the thing started stepping over the ruined walls of its lair, licking at the dry air of night to try and find where its new prey was hiding. Something like this will just go on killing, go on consuming until its grown even bigger. And then it'll end up hunting me. Mimics get a taste for their prey. And they're patient. It'll wait for thea moment when I'm vulnerable – like during Trance – and then…

He didn't finish the thought. Already he was drawing his bow, knocking another arrow, and pondering if he should try something new.

Mimics hunt via scents, he recalled. Their olfactory receptor glands are in their tongues, which they use to navigate the world. The taste of human blood they can pick up almost as well as any vampiric foe.

The creature's frenzied stabs at the air with its tongue showed Ryn he was correct. At the point, the thing was right behind him. It bent low, like a giraffe about to sup from a pond, and started liking at the section of broken pillar where Ryn had leaped over.

At that moment, Ryn went for it: he let the flicker of a Firebolt spark into life on his fingertips and touched the flame to the tip of his arrowhead.

Then – yes! – he felt the spell graft itself round the weapon:

SYNERGY ACTIVATED

[Phosphoric Arrow]

[Firebolt + Physical Projectile]

Effect: +10 Fire DMG, +5 physical DMG, 35% chance to inflict [Burn] status

You're a vicious beast, Ryn thought as he then steadied his shortbow. But, at the end of the day, you've still got a wooden core.

Ryn waited till the creature's snarling maw had turned around to face him.

Then, he let his arrow fly.

The second it left the bow shaft he heard the Mimic emit a roar that pierced his eardrums. He threw himself over the ruined wall to avoid the pincer-leg of the beast as it struck out towards him. The entire wall was shattered before the arrow pierced the tongue of the beast, and Ryn heard another earsplitting roar that brought him to his knees.

As soon as he was back up, the Mimic was upon him.

A quickly timed [Voidstep] took him passed the things legs, but wasn't fast enough to clear the beast's effective striking radius. He spun, and felt the impact of one long claw-arm rake up his back. He fell back an inch, thankful that his new armor had softened the blow.

He quickly launched another arrow right at the beast's lolling tongue. Before all else, he had to get rid of that thing. That way, he could effectively blind it.

The creature tried flicking the blast away and failed – thinking that it was a mere Firebolt spell coming for it. Unfortunately for it, a Phosphoric Arrow was far faster than a spell, and its tongue was pierced clean through yet again. It doubled back as the [Burn] status took effect this time, crashing into the dome of its ruined lair then falling to the ground with a sloppy thud.

This time, when it regained its composure, it was Ryn who was pressing his advantage.

His spear glimmered with his [Infernal Spear] Synergy and his [Mighty Strike] which cut through the Mimic's claw as it tried to shield itself from the blow. Ryn felt his speartip then pierce the soft internal flesh of the beast and cut deep. When he pulled away, he took the thing's entire tongue with him.

However, the force of the impact had jarred the creature. With a sudden burst of adrenaline, it brought both its claws round Ryn's back, digging its nails into his chainmail armor and ripping through the chainlinks with wild abandon.

Ryn wheezed, feeling the creature's serrated nails rake his skin, and managed to bring up his tabard in a [Heater Shield] Synergy strike that sent the beast hurtling back again to smash through another one of its ruined walls.

Ryn watched as the Mimic leaped right back up again, shaking its wooden-chest core like a dog that had just been rebuked. In response, Ryn waved his spear right at it, showing the creature its bloodied tongue hanging limply from the shaft.

"You want this back?"

A dull, menacing sound emitted from the beast's chest-mouth. It bared its teeth, and opened, revealing within its dark confines the decapitated heads of the adventurers who had dared to open it. Five heads. One for each body that had been lying strewn around it.

The message it was communicating was clear: you'll be next, human.

Ryn stepped back, pretending he was intimidated. The beast wanted him wary. It wanted him doubting that he could win, in spite of its now blind state. This creature wasn't like the noble Direwolf, who had been nothing but an unwilling puppet for its vicious Kobold Masters. This was a being with one purpose and one purpose only: to consume, and to leave nothing behind.

Even though the sight of its partially digested meals was enough to turn even the most stoic Climber's stomach, Ryn stayed focused. Present. He knew that the end of this fight would be determined by what happened next.

The creature began pacing to his left. He paced to its right. They faced each other, both daring their opponent to charge, both knowing they had to conserve their strength.

By this point, the moon of Tormalin had sun oppressively low in the skies. The clouds had parted. Light shone on the ruined chapel and illuminated the two combatants like this was an arena made only for them.

Ryn checked his HP quickly out the corner of his eye:

16/30

An unblocked charge from this thing would finish him. There was no doubt about that.

One wrong move, Ryn thought, feeling sweat drip from his wrinkled forehead. And I'm done. Voidstep doesn't have the distance to get me out of the way of its striking range.
Yet, his wounded opponent was faring no better:

Ruin Mimic (Level 3)

Loot: Uncommon

HP: 13/80

You feel it too, don't you? Ryn thought, narrowing his eyes at the vile beast as it kept circling.

You know that, one slip, and its over for you, too.

The beast clicked its teeth, almost as though it could read Ryn's thoughts.

And Ryn, with the image of those poor sod's heads still burned into his mind, struck his shield with his spear and howled so that all of the First floor could hear him.

"Well? Come and get m-!"

The creature was already mid-pounce before the last syllable left Ryn's mouth.

 

[IronLung]

What do you think Ryn's wish could be?

What do you think of the story so far?

 

[Pax Insonnia]

I think it's a bit early to guess his wish. Maybe something about the villagers that exiled him? But he said he doesn't care about that, so maybe it's something to do with the gods.

And the story so far is nice, but I am sucker for creative power sets so take that with a grain of salt. Still waiting for Ryn to interact with other characters for more than one scene.