[Common Slime defeated]

Reward: 3 EXP

After slaying the second slime, I realized that the reward for slaying these creatures weren’t the same: sometimes they’d turn into a puddle and drop collectible slime cores, sometimes they’d just vanish into thin air. I’d learned to not question the inner workings of aetheric creatures too much, for they didn’t seem to obey the rules of the human realms.

Another thing I was much more intrigued about was the ‘3 EXP’ reward. I hadn’t the time to ponder the precise mechanics of this ‘3 EXP’, nor to deliberate on the grand implications of Levels, though Ceralis’ constantly updated profile had given me glimpses of the mysterious calculus behind it. Now would be as good a time as any to ask.

[STAT SCREEN – Henry Hildebraud of Mostenstein]

Level: 5

EXP: 1461/2750

HP (Health Points): 55/55

AP (Aetheric Points): 1/1

I cast my glance downward, to where I was storing my quartz. I’d wedged it into the crest slot on my left gauntlet. Sir Roland always said the slot was for ornamentation; I found it made a fine holder for a glowing rock that insisted on narrating my life. It was a better option than looping a strip of saddle cord through the quartz and tucked it beneath my gorget.

You’ve been scribbling numbers beside my name like a tavern accountant. Tell me, what in all holy Saints’ plumbing is a ‘Level’?

[INQUIRY DETECTED: DEFINITIONS – LEVEL / EXPERIENCE POINTS]

LEVEL: A measure of accumulated competence and adaptive potential.

EXPERIENCE POINTS (EXP): Quantitative representation of progress toward the next Level threshold.

EXP is accrued through:

– Combat Efficiency: defeating hostile entities, scaled by relative threat.

– Task Fulfilment: completion of defined objectives, quests, or oaths recorded by Ceralis.

– Pathway Resonance: passive accrual from continued adherence to your chosen Pathway.

The letters lingered for a moment before fading like mist.

But what, pray tell, do I actually gain from these ‘Levels’?

[INQUIRY DETECTED: LEVEL-UP BENEFITS]

Upon reaching a new Level, user gains:

– 2 Attribute Points to be distributed among primary attributes.

– 3 Health Points and 1 Aetheric Point.

– Eligibility for Aetheric Weapons & Armaments (restricted by minimum Level requirements).

– Eligibility for Skill Acquisition and Skill Upgrades (restricted by Pathway and Resonance compatibility)

Aetheric weapons and armaments. You do realize I have no resonance, right? I so much as walk by a mage’s staff and it goes limp. And with you giving me a mere 2 attribute points every level gained, what am I supposed to do? Slowly evolve into a slightly stronger disappointment?

One Common Slime would only net me 3 EXP, which meant I’d have to slay over another 100 slimes just to gain a level. And each level would only gain me two attribute points and three health points?

Ceralis, predictably, did not answer.

What did answer was the aggressive scratching of quill on parchment.

I turned.

Anabeth was staring at me with unnerving focus, her tongue poking out slightly as she leaned forward, notebook propped against one knee. Her eyes darted between my face and my left arm.

“Tendency to stare at the quartz on his left gauntlet . . .” she whispered to herself as she scribbled furiously. “Staring for one full minute muttering to himself . . . he must be summoning upon the powers of the Saints. The quartz is cut in the heptagonal pattern, faint internal luminescence, likely a Stormglass Aetherquartz . . . high chance of lightning affinity.”

She knows what this quartz is? Come to think of it, if what I’d heard in my half-sleeping haze was real, she did say something about how my rocks were of ‘exquisite quality’.

She knows her rocks.

She noticed me staring and gave a ceremonial flutter of a wave. “Splendid concealment of your aetheric potential, good Ser!” she said. “Marvelous control! Masterful technique!”

I shook my head once and turned back toward the next slime.

Three slashes later, and the slime dropped dead.

Damage Dealt: 9 + 8 – 1 = 16

Damage Dealt: 9 + 10 – 1 = 18

Damage Dealt: 9 + 11 – 1 = 19

[Common Slime defeated]

Reward: 3 EXP

I had done this thousands of times by now; I thought I knew exactly which angle to strike to kill the slimes in three slices. Maybe that’d been reflected in my damage dealt computation, as I always managed to nearly maximize my STR output. My lack of swordsmanship refinement was probably the reason why the Runesword wasn’t dealing the damage it was supposed to.

Anabeth had inched closer now, still pretending not to watch as I bisected another slime with the grim precision of a man filing taxes. Her quill hovered above the page, trembling with scholarly delight.

“Oh, Ser,” she called out. “You cannot hide your aetheric profile forever! I have yet to encounter a single soul with zero resonance to the aether. Even those most . . . restrained must eventually betray a spark of aether. You are bound to slip up one of these days!”

I wiped a streak of slime from my helm with the back of my gauntlet. Does that mean I’m literally one of a kind? The only man in Raslan with absolutely no magical power whatsoever?

Not the time for that.

I drove my blade through another slime, then another, and another still. The next ten fell with the same wet resignation, bursting apart into puddles and bubbles as Anabeth circled me at a respectable distance. Every time I landed a hit, she gasped softly, like an audience of one. “Beautiful form, good Ser!” she called out as I cleaved through a green one. “Impeccable control of kinetic flow!” when I bisected a blue. “Oh Saints, the discipline!” when I stomped a particularly stubborn yellow into mush.

By the tenth kill, I was thoroughly fatigued, and she was still narrating like an overly enthusiastic archivist.

EXP: 1469/2750

The tunnel widened as we pressed on. The air grew cooler, less like a cave and more like the inside of some great creature’s throat. Along the walls, clusters of bioluminescent and definitely poisonous fungi sprouted in irregular fans. Naturally, the more lethal they were, the brighter they shone. The whole passage gleamed with an unnatural radiance, the kind of brilliance that made the outside world—the sunlit, supposedly ‘well-lit’ world—seem dim and underperforming by comparison.

Poison was always prettier underground.

Pockets of condensed slime, more viscous and opaque than before, clung to the walls, dripping lazily into the shallow pools at our feet. I stared at the massive, semi-translucent shape oozing forward from the gloom. The thing was larger than a wagon, its membrane rippling with veins of dull amber light.

[Greater Gloomslime]

HP: 260/260

STR: 9

END: 14

RES: ???

DEX: ???

PER: ???

[For full stat visibility, unlock Skill: Appraisal (Level 1)]

Skill: Appraisal?

I didn’t have time to ponder, for the thing heaved itself forward, a lumbering dome of translucent flesh that sloshed with each sluggish movement. Its surface was a slow churn of motion, dark and viscous as boiling tar. Each ripple caught the turquoise glow of the fungi and hurled it back in slick reflections that looked like oil.

I tightened my grip on the sword.

A blood bag. That’s what this was. Too much HP, too little threat. It’d just sit there, soaking up damage until my arms gave out or my blade dulled from sheer attrition. Then it’d strike.

“Ah! A Greater Gloomslime!” Anabeth’s voice rang meaninglessly. “Remarkable durability! Truly a test of endurance! Surely Ser Henry the great knight wouldn’t rather spend thirty minutes hacking it with a sword while a single Thunderbolt shall suffice?”

You underestimate my capacity for poor decisions and misplaced perseverance, I thought grimly.

I raised my sword and trudged toward the gelatinous mass with all the weary resolve of a man heading back to work after lunch.

What’s the point, really? I thought, staring at the gelatinous lump with more health than sense. I’ll take it slow. Conserve energy. It’s not like this thing has enough STR to punch through my armor, let alone my END.

The Gloomslime gave a sluggish lurch and splattered a wave of viscous sludge in my direction. I didn’t even bother dodging.

Then the slime hit me.

[-1 HP]

HP: 54/55

What?

I looked down at the faint smear of glowing residue sliding down my chestplate.

[Sir Roland’s Silver Armor]

Base DEF: 15

Handling Requirement: STR 9

Status: Dormant (no aetheric channel detected)

Maintenance Level: 58%

I did the quick math in my head. My total defense should’ve been around 30—enough to shrug off anything this blob could muster. So how—

[INQUIRY DETECTED: DAMAGE CALCULATION PRINCIPLE]

Minimum damage dealt is always 1, regardless of defensive threshold.

So even if I’m a walking fortress, I still take one point of damage?

No response, of course.

I sighed. Guess I just have to make sure the blob doesn’t hit me fifty-four more times.