Eight: A LitRPG Novel of Magical Survival

I should’ve been happy to level up. Instead, I was troubled. System-Eight, is that you?

System-Eight?

Does that mean you’ll disappear?

So the silverlight in cores is like… soul poop? That’s so gross. What about—

But… but… there’s still so much that’s not clear. And I was hoping we’d get a chance to talk. I haven’t actually spoken to anyone in weeks, and—

As the last dialog box stayed on the screen, it occurred to me that I was hungry for human company. In a strange way, the zombies had reminded me that I didn’t have to be alone. I mean, Ikfael was adorable and a great help—her ability to invent and communicate through gestures was uncanny—but there were people in this world, and I was slowly becoming better equipped to deal with them. Assuming I ever got out of these caves.

I closed System-Eight’s last message, and opened the other notification.

The bonus to secondary attributes was unexpected, and I double-checked the numbers:

I wondered if there’d be something similar at every level, and what that might mean for me.

My attributes and skills had increased, but there wasn’t a sudden rush of power or understanding. My body remained my body. My mind, my mind. But then, if the System was integrating with me, maybe I wouldn’t notice the changes?

With a grunt, I stood up and held the spear. It was comforting, like the spear was a friend on whom I could count. I’d always thought of the bow that way, and now I’d extended the concept to the spear.

It was an epiphany that raised the hairs on my arms. Was it my training that made the spear more familiar, or the skill ranking up? Both? Does it even matter? I wondered.

The System was a tool like the bow and the spear—using it to my benefit made sense. That was the whole point of leveling up. System-Eight had said that improving skills increased the depth of connections to the System, which in turn should—theoretically—create opportunities to learn from them: deeper insights, more advanced techniques, and so on.

I couldn’t help but feel uneasy, though. My mind was being modified by a power outside of myself. Would my personality, beliefs, and thinking also change as I grew?

With a sigh, I sat back down. Of course there’ll be consequences to leveling up, and I’m even actively trying to learn from the various Skill-Sensei. It’d be impossible not to change.

“Seriously, Ollie. Now’s not the time to be turning down gift horses. Besides, leveling up is half the fun in games.” With a shake of my head, I looked over my Status.

Hmm… I’ve collected 259 silverlight so far. What do I do with my free point? Three attributes are close to milestones: Agility and Constitution are at 9, while Spirit is at 14.

A point of Constitution should bump up my capacity for qi, plus give me the chance at a survival-related talent. Agility will help me wield my weapons better. But… hmm… Spirit impacts mana, qi, and likely Spirit Magic too—once I learn some. It’s also at a higher rank, so it should create a better talent if one is triggered, right? That’s not guaranteed, but it’s how most gamified systems work.

Since the increase wouldn’t be immediate, I shelved the decision for the moment so I could think about it more later.

I checked the talent I got for hitting 15 Intelligence:

That System-Eight really was looking out for me. He knew I wouldn’t want to stay in the wilderness on my own and had paved the way for first contact. Well, of course he did. System-Eight was—what did he call it?—my sub and super consciousnesses combined.

After a rest, I laid out Woldec and Kiertie’s bodies and said a short prayer for them.

I now knew of two definitive exits from the cave system, but both were blocked. What are the odds there’s one more?

Woldec’s map didn’t help—it stopped at the Red Room. Still, it was the only clue I had, and so I planned to follow it.

I’m sure I must’ve been a sight: clothes too big, dwarfed by the oversized pack on my back, and Kiertie’s spear in my hands. The axes and bowstave were strapped to the backpack, while the belts—five of them now—were more like bandoliers holding my knives. If I needed to stab something—anything—I was set.

The tunnel was wide, ten feet across, and wound through the limestone for about forty yards before opening into a long chamber. On the left, ribbons of stone covered the wall. The water had worn away the limestone in such a way that it looked like one long theater curtain. A thin stream ran along the bottom and dropped into a small hole near the room’s entrance. The floor sloped toward me, and the realization that I was subtly ascending made me feel better.

I kept going, and in the next tunnel a series of small passages branched out, all angling back the way I’d come. I imagined it looked like a river delta from space. According to Woldec’s map, they all led to dead ends.

I walked for quite a while longer—maybe twenty or thirty minutes, it was hard to tell—when I saw a faint red light cast on the wall ahead. It was the color of blood splattered on a window. I’d never seen it in real life, of course, but I’d worked briefly as the prop manager for the indie horror film He’s in the House. That shade of red bore an uncanny resemblance to the concoction of red food coloring, ketchup, and oil we used for our blood effects.

I covered up the candlestone and took a slow breath to prepare myself for another fight. There could be a zombie ahead, or a murder cat, or whatever else this world had in store for me.

The entrance was shaped like an upside-down U, with the arch low enough I had to crouch to get under it. I stayed where I was, though, and hid in the shadows to scan the room for danger.

The room really was the color of arterial blood. The light from several chimneys in the ceiling reflected off of a massive colony of thick red lichen.

The lichen covered the floor and three quarters of the walls. Interestingly, a much smaller colony, about the size of my head, clung to the ceiling. It was hard to make out, but it was situated next to the largest of the chimneys and looked fuchsia in color.

As for the room, it was another balloon, except this time I was at the wider side. There was another exit at the thin end about forty yards away. To the left, stalagmites rose up like a choir, almost holding hands with their compatriot stalactites descending from the ceiling.

I didn’t see any animals, but some of the lichen was worn down enough to form a path between me and the opposite exit. I used my camera to see if there were any hidden in the shadows.

I felt like an idiot. Why didn’t I think to test the camera on plants earlier?

Of course the camera worked on plants. This was a world where they could disguise themselves as people. Maybe there were some that were intelligent. Not the little plant horrors hopefully, but a whole society of ents or treants or something.

I took a closer look at the eilesheile. Anything that wanted you to eat it that badly was looking for something. Usually, it was a ride for their seeds to another location, along with a nice helping of nutrients for them to grow, but lichen didn’t spread that way. At least, not that I knew of.

I scanned the room with my camera—click, click, click—and there were several more variations on the Tasty talent. Click, click, click.

There it was; I found it. Lichen wasn’t aggressive or invasive—when a colony grew on a plant, they just used it as a substrate—but of course, this world had to offer a monsterized version.

Armed with that knowledge, I scanned the room again and found several lichen-covered mounds that I’d originally thought were stone, but were likely the skeletal remains of their prey. Wonderful, a carnivorous species of lichen. How unsurprising.

Actually, when I put the terror of being eaten by a killer-lichen aside, it really was a wonder how the lichen had adapted to fill this evolutionary niche. And it must be valuable—this was where Woldec and his crew were headed before they ran into trouble. Does this eilesheile have medicinal properties? Or magical? Culinary?

I didn’t exactly see dollar signs, but the idea was there. First contact with the people of this world would go a lot more smoothly if I had things to trade. I’d thought the answer would be furs and hides, but odds were this eilesheile was more rare and valuable.

Based on the talents, the eilesheile were only dangerous when ingested, so it should be all right for me to walk through the room. The game trail through the lichen proved it was possible. I could even harvest some and bring it with me to show Ikfael.

Yep. I should be able to just walk right out there. Any minute now. Just. Walk. Into the room.