Chapter 14

Michael returned to the dungeon as quickly as humanly possible. Actually, he was now quicker than a human, his improved reflexes born from training and from the bonuses his passive skill gave him allowing him to basically sprint the whole way from the car to the dungeon without having to worry about falling on the uneven terrain. If he could see his stats, he knew he would be proud of his growth. His stamina had increased by leaps and bounds, as had his strength and his reflexes, thanks to all the training.

If only I had a way to gain levels…

Today was going to be no different than last time. It was a skeleton day, assuming the dungeon kept its normal rotation, and Michael had every intention to squeeze all the training he could out of the first room before moving onto defeating the boss.

I won’t leave until [Distortion Field] becomes as natural as breathing.

Which he did. He spent several hours in the first room, juggling not one but two skeletons he left alive for training purposes, before he got the message he was waiting for. As soon as he saw it, he quickly killed the skeletons, executing the last one with a very satisfying [Shield Bash].

He grinned, gathering his scattered lights and getting ready to move into the next room. Checking his equipment, however, he was starting to notice that the shield was a bit warped in some places.

[Shield Bash] is really taxing on the shield, he thought as he examined the battered shield. It had seen better days, the wear and tear of battle taking its toll. Especially whenever he took a hit without the protective layer of the distortion field absorbing the impact. The skeletons were strong and they hit hard, and the bosses were even stronger still, enough that the shield was suffering.

The second room surprised him. Instead of a number of normal skeletons like he expected, he found himself face to face with a single skeleton boss and two normal skeletons. The dungeon is mixing things up, I see. Upping the difficulty. Still, the surprise was not enough to stun him into motionlessness. In fact, by the time his brain was done speculating, he was already moving, having discarded the shield now that [Distortion Field] had become automatic. The skeletons, even the boss, were slow enough that as long as he kept them all within his field of view, there would be no problems. The bubble was also strong enough to repel all attacks, making the shield redundant for this fight. It was still a good tool, and he had gotten used to its reassuring weight, and [Shield Bash] was a strong ability, but until he got a better shield, he was probably better off without.

The fight didn’t take much time at all. Despite the increase in difficulty, Michael was much stronger than he was even in the last delve, the improvement to his [Distortion Field] making disposing of the brittle skeletons easy work. As the reward materialized, coins just like in the last room, however, Michael couldn’t help but be concerned.

If the dungeon ups the difficulty every time I beat a certain floor, then it means that I’m on a timer. For now I’ve been staying ahead of the curve, but I’m already seeing diminishing returns from only fighting on the first floor. Soon enough I’ll be forced to descend down to the second floor, and I need to be ready.

To that end, he needed to make every single run through the first floor count. He could not afford to waste a run, as the difficulty would increase regardless of how profitable the run had been, hastening the arrival of the point of no return, where he would become unable to stay ahead of the difficulty curve unless he delved deeper.

Problems upon problems, at least if one wanted to optimize things, which Michael felt he had an obligation to do. If anything, he had to because his life was on the line, but also because he was still shaken after meeting someone with magic in the real world, and by the implications of the existence of both old magic and possibly many newly powered people delving similar dungeons around the world.

The boss room had three skeletons, following the usual pattern. He made quick work of them, using his new [Presence] skill to slow them down when he used it in bursts, and defeating them net him enough coins to bring the total to 130, a decent haul. After he put them in his backpack, he saw that he still had a lot of food and water packed for the trip. Damn, I barely even had to heal myself this run. I am getting better.

But he couldn’t neglect his healing. It was, to his mind, his most important skill. Not for fighting, even though it was plenty useful even there, but for the opportunities it offered outside of the dungeon. In that regard, he knew he needed to experiment with it and figure out how to improve its level, and what better place to do it than the mana-dense boss room of the dungeon, with plenty of food and water?

All he needed to do was harm himself in all sorts of strange ways and see how the skill healed him, trying to gain insights with his mana sense while he was at it. He took out the dagger and began the grueling work. By the time he was done he was panting, covered in sweat, grime and dried blood, his head hurt something fierce, and he was out of food. His skill had not gained a single level, but he had managed to improve his mana sense by looking at how the skill directed the flow of mana to heal his wounds. Small gains.

Another discovery was that his healing skill didn’t seem to have any limit to its power, as long as it had mana and food to work with. It could regenerate limbs (he assumed, but he had only gone as far as cutting off two of his fingers), it could fix a stabbed eye, it could regenerate vast amounts of tissue, muscle, bone and even set right complex joints like the wrist after Michael smashed it with a rock. He still wasn’t sure if it could deal with stuff like cancer or poisons, and he surely wasn’t going to try that on himself. The difference was that, unlike normal wounds, cancer and poisons would require the skill to know that there was something wrong with the body it was trying to heal, something not as obvious as a broken bone. But then again, the skill knew that a sore muscle was something to be fixed, removing the lactic acid and rebuilding the fibers, so perhaps removing the cancerous cells and rebuilding the damaged tissues was not that much of a stretch.

It is quite impressive for a level one, uncommon ability. I wonder if the catch is that it’s hard as hell to level up? I would imagine that in a standard DnD party, a healer who can only heal up to one meter away is pretty useless in a fight, but in the modern world…

Leaving the dungeon, Michael was pretty happy with his gains. The gains he got from true delving were much diminished, it was true, although the large supply of coins was nothing to scoff at, but he was starting to see the true best way to use the dungeon. The best way to use the dungeon, in fact, was not to wait for it to grant rewards. Sure, they were strong and could change someone’s life, but the danger was always proportional. No, the good gains came from abusing the absurd mana density of the dungeon, training like he did today and grinding out skill levels. Delving would always have a place, no coins otherwise, and he doubted he could get any skill beyond common and uncommon ones otherwise, but a good balance of delving and abusing the dungeon mechanics to train was probably the best way to go.

He idly wondered how the other delvers who had found other dungeons on earth were doing. Did they just do a one-off, coming out powered up but scared to ever go back again? Would they be cautious, like he was, slowly gaining power without putting their lives recklessly at risk? Or would they be battle junkies, most of them succumbing to their hubris, but some of them managing to rise to power much quicker than the others? He could not tell with certainty, but he had some data.

In the last two years, ever since the first mention of the dungeons, nobody had managed to make a mess so big it was impossible to cover up. And two years were a long time. Michael himself had been delving for barely a couple of weeks, and was already at the point where, if he wanted, he could make a real mess that would make the news.

Perhaps I am ahead of this curve as well, among the first to truly gain real power. I need to make sure I remain ahead.

If the world was about to change, then it was better to be the herald of change rather than just a victim of it.

***

Michael got home right in time for karate class, quickly grabbing his kimono and hopping back on his truck to drive to the dojo. Phillip wasn’t there today, making the two hours pass much more smoothly than usual, although Michael had to admit to himself that he was a little disappointed that his rival was absent. The others simply shot him bad looks or talked behind his back, but when it came to training they were perfect gentlemen, as if all their resentment and hatred was nothing at all, only for it to come back during rests and in the changing room.

You know what? I don’t even see the point of coming here anymore.

His train of thought was interrupted by sensei Stephan coming up to him. He talked loud enough for everyone in the locker room to hear, but he was clearly talking to him.

“Listen, Master Taiko is coming to the US in September. I pulled some strings, and we are the first dojo he comes to. You know, Michael, he still remembers you. He asked about you, in fact. He wants you to take the exam, hinting that you might skip another belt. I know you are up to it, but you still need to train hard, and no more skipping classes until the exam!”

Michael was about to refuse, claiming that he was very busy and that he couldn’t really do it when he was scrambling for money. But then, an idea came to mind.

What if Master Taiko has mana? Now he needed to know. Because if Master Taiko did… If anyone should have magic, then it has to be the old martial arts master from Japan, right? If I impress him, I might even be able to pry some secrets out of him. Well, considering my growth so far, by the time September comes I could be literally superhuman, and by being a dungeon delver there’s a fat chance I will be stronger than any magic user who isn’t.

“Sure sensei,” he said with a smile, as if he had not been considering quitting up until five seconds ago. “I’ll try my best to not skip class, but it might still happen. I got a new job that’s quite far away from here.”

That’s an understatement. Old Dave sent me a text earlier stating that I need to go all the way to Nashville to pick someone up from the airport and take her to his pawn shop. At least the money is good, and I just need to drive. Although, he did hint at the fact that my skills could be useful, so perhaps it’s more like bodyguard duty?