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  LOOT DROP Chapter: 14

  Skulking in the night illuminated by the green moon, Fisk kept low to the ground and in the shadows, the night around him oddly brighter than what true wildness was like back home.

  Mainly, that he could actually see in the dark, a feat that could prove as troublesome as it was usefull. Still, he kept moving, one foot after another while he kept an eye on a forum post that described the various threats in his AO.

  Rabid Monkeys.

  Slimes.

  Panthets.

  Scream bats.

  Tree men.

  Boars.

  Almost a dozen type of foreign threats that didn't include players that were still hunting for him.

  Unfortunately, in order to get a class, one had to be level one. But in order to level up one had to kill to gain experience.

  Sadly, while shooting players could net him kills, it didn't give him experience if he wasn't in a PvP zone. A feature of the game that prevented new players from being farmed, and something called alts being made.

  A fact that irked Fisk as he lay low, observing a group of players walk off into the forest with torches held high. Easy kills if he ambushed them.

  All I need is to find a boar or slime.

  Fisk moved on, creeping through the woods, his shotgun held in hand. If he could find any of the low tier monsters he'd be fine. However, despite spending an hour searching, he was no closer to his goal than when he started.

  Fisk scowled, leaning on a tree to rest as he ate some red berries, “So much for high pop-”

  Then, it happened.

  A growl.

  One that spun Fisk around to face the gold glowing eyes of a predator of the night.

  “Shit…” Fisk muttered.

  A panthet, a high level monster with the base form of a panther and a tail of a scorpion tipped with poison. A monster that was herald as a mini-boss for the area with a low chance of spawning.

  Noticing Fisk staring at him, the monster let out a low growl, the creature’s threat sending a tingle down Fisk's spine whose fingers gripped the handle of his weapon tightly.

  Even under the darkness of the night, he could see its fur puffed up, its paws, brandishing claws that extended from chiten feet as its orange tail swished angrily back and forth.

  SHIT!

  Fisk dipped, dodging to the left, hitting the ground just as a blast of acid struck the space he'd just been.

  Up came his gun, the weapon, firing both barrels and smacking the creature that merely recoiled before snarling as a tree fell, the consequences of its acid eating through the bark.

  “Fuck,” Fisk, rolling left, narrowly avoiding the falling tree and rising to his feet as the panthet let out a roar.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “Fuck fuck fuck!” Fisk hissed, his neck tingling, a glob of acid nearly striking him only to miss as he inexplicably ducked.

  -12 HP

  Fisk winced, a bit of acid tearing through his skin and making him wince, lose his balance and slam into a tree to break his momentum and change direction.

  The panthet however was close behind, striking the tree Fisk had run into and reorienting itself to pouched forward.

  It snarled, leaping at Fisk who spun on his heel and raised his gun, opening fire, the thunderous boom of his weapon striking the panthet’s open maw.

  The creature rolled, hitting the earth, snarling as green ichor leaked from its mangled maw of serrated canines.

  Still, the fight wasn't over, the panthet was still alive, clearly hurt but furious as it roared and leapt.

  Fisk scowled, his shotgun attack on cooldown, the monster closing in for the kill. With no option left, and cornered in deep woods, Fisk used the only other weapon he had.

  His leg.

  The metal prosthetic came up, a well placed kick into the leaping feline’s expansive jaw that easily broke its teeth and slipped into its throat up to his knee.

  Off balanced Fisk fell, wincing as the panther raked him with its claws as Fisk yelled, “AIR KICK!”

  A hundred mechanisms hummed to life, his mana, powering his silver limb that began violently emitting steam.

  “HOW DO I TASTE?!” Fisk spat, catching the venomous barb with his hands just as it lashed out and the pair hit the cold ground.

  He could see it, the venous stinger opening to leak acid that scorched his flesh, burning away skin and muscle that made him yelp in pain. Any further, and he'd be blasted by acid.

  Still, it was nothing compared to losing his leg. Nothing compared to the fiery explosion that had claimed his friends. Nothing compared to the years of suffering he'd undergone as a cripple and the system that had abandoned him.

  However, despite his resolve the stinger was drawing closer, the acid, burning deeper, and the creature's frantic clawing ripping large gashes across his body.

  [Poisoned!]

  Shit.

  Opening his system, Fisk did the one thing he hadn't wanted to, something he had hoped to save for later. But now, with the barb pressing into his tunic and his hands keeping the stinger closed from blasting him with acid, Fisk finally allocated his remaining points.

  Thirty into strength.

  Fisk roared, ripping the monster's stinger off, its gargled response cut short as its body began to balloon, the pressure released from Fisk's mechanical leg too much for its body to bear.

  “FUCK YOU!” Fisk shouted as the monster exploded like a pressure cooker and sent Fisk flying into a tree.

  *****

  “Dang it, where are you?” Faith muttered, the woman searching the woods for any sign of Fisk who had run off, disappearing into the night.

  A fact Faith had noticed after he'd stop responding to her constant inquiries of if he was still there.

  Hearing an explosive boom Faith jolted, hesitating for a moment, unsure if it was Fisk or just some immortals doing battle.

  Then, another boom, this time, invoking the memory of Fisk's attack in her home.

  Moving swiftly, she soon found signs of battle- clawed up trees, melting plants, foot tracks and broken foliage.

  All indicators of a panthet.

  “Oh no…” Faith paled, her eyes wide before she took off into the night following the trail of battle to witness Fisk shoving his leg into the throat of a feral panthet.

  “FUCK YOU!” Fisk roared.

  “Mr. Fisk!” Faith screamed, her cry drowned out by the explosive pop that shook the nearby trees, sending Faith shielding her eyes as gore and viscera coated her surroundings.

  “Mr. Fisk!” Faith shouted, running towards the man slumped against a tree bleeding profusely.

  “Why… do I feel pain…” Fisk muttered, his eyes weakly looking up at Faith.

  “You're going to be okay! You're going to be fine!” Faith yelled before taking a deep breath as her hands began to glow. “Oh Lord. Hear thy prayer, stay the passing of this soul and deliver salvation so that your presence may be known.”

  At the incantation, Fisk's wounds began to visibly heal, the man's bleeding gashes and lacerations mending. Now that Fisk was stable, there were still two problems at hand.

  One, he was poisoned.

  Two, Faith had no spells to cure poison, all she had was…

  Faith clenched her jaw before reaching over and locking her lips with the barely conscious man.

  Then, she felt it, the connection of mana pathways made between her and Fisk, a sensation bubbling up from within as her core began to rapidly spin, pulling out the negative energy infecting Fisk and purifying it.

  For a moment, a slight moment, Faith embraced her old role, her body heating up as pure, spiritual magic blossomed from her body to envelope Fisk in the form of spectral white wings.

  A moment passed before she separated herself from Fisk, the man now unconscious but visibly better looking as his body had been purged of the poison and healed.

  “Whoa.”

  Faith spun, her eyes wide, mouth agape as she spotted an immortal standing nearby.

  The man blinked, eyeing Faith and Fisk, his hand holding a bow with an arrow notched.

  “Please…” Faith said, shaking her head no, her life and Fisk's at the whim of a stranger.

  Then, the immortal did something that surprised Faith, he approached, kneeled down and handed her a red potion and a vial she identified as an antidote.

  “GG,” The archer said, smiling before getting up and walking off into the night.