Mug and I cleared the rest of level 2 with basically no problems. Once we found our rhythm, the load, aim, fire, maneuver, and reload again pattern became second nature. The cave was large but very open and easy to navigate, so it only took about 45 minutes. Once the floor was seemingly empty of slag leeches, I had an idea.
The gas wasn’t very thick here, and I could use my air cannon to blow it away temporarily, so I went around with Mug and had him throw the carcasses of the defeated monster bugs into my opening. Turns out I wasn’t that squeamish about having giant bug corpses thrown inside me; maybe the fact that I didn’t really see myself as human anymore meant a lot of my human hangups had been muted. That was helpful.
There were 28 in total, and once I had finished Devouring them, I had enough experience to level twice!
CONGRATULATIONS, YOU ARE NOW A LEVEL 14 UNADORNED TRASHCAN WITH MODERATE ENCHANTMENT. YOUR NEW STATS ARE AS FOLLOWS: STRENGTH: 15 DEXTERITY: 7 CHARISMA: 7 INTELLIGENCE: 12 MAGIC OFFENSE: 15 MAGIC DEFENSE: 30 HIT POINTS: 75 MANA: 200 ABILITIES UNLOCKED: RESIDUAL SYNTHESIS RESIDUAL SYNTHESIS ABILITY UNLOCKED: CHITINOUS PLATING.
I had Void explain them both to me. It seemed like Residual Synthesis could give me traits from Devoured enemies, assuming I ate enough of them. Chitinous Plating gave me extra armor, so I would be tougher to hurt with physical attacks. Not bad for a first outing!
I let Mug rest a little, making sure to give him plenty of fresh air. He didn’t seem bothered by the green miasma swirling around us, but I wanted to make sure that he was really fine. I didn’t want to lead the little guy to his death. As I thought about Mug, I recalled the feats of strength he had shown that he had chalked up to Prince Edvald’s "training." I had an idea and told him to get inside me. He didn’t protest this time, I guess finally realizing I didn’t want to eat him.
APPRAISAL 3: CREATURE IDENTIFIED AS "MUG." SPECIES: ORC. LEVEL 4. HIGHEST STAT IS STRENGTH AT 11.
He hadn’t unlocked any abilities, but still, his level had increased and his strength had nearly doubled over the course of a few minor fights. I asked him if he felt any different, but he just shook his head.
"I only feel as prepared as Master Edvald has made me, Master Lugenhelm. Why do you ask?"
"No reason at all, Mug. Let’s get down to the third level." We took a different lift down to level 3, and from there began the clearing out process again. It went even faster this time, even though there were more leeches here than level 2. My mana ran low only twice, and I Devoured two more of the stored weapons, leaving me with five of the original eight. I thought about doing the same as we had on the floor before, but the gas here was thicker, and I didn’t want to risk it with Mug. Besides, I could always have the kobolds help me with the corpses afterwards.
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Level 4 was where we started experiencing trouble. Here, the slag leeches were thick; as soon as we rolled off the lift, we were attacked by a group of ten or so. Mug had gotten better at aiming and was pretty good at taking out at least three at a time, but it was still dicey. As soon as we finished one group, another one came skittering from the darkness, rushing us and shrieking. The gas was so thick here I could hardly see, and the small mana-lights on the cart only really served to cast dim shadows in the green fumes. Still, we rode and fired, rode and fired, blasting them with our pneumatic scrap shotgun. By the time we had gotten to the final group, we were out of nails and had to rely on the stone balls, our enemies coming too fast for me to stop and print. The stone orbs were great, acting as high-power slugs, but they were only good for taking out leeches when they were stacked on top of each other. When we finally finished after a grueling hour and a half of battle, I had used three more magic weapons to fuel my mana, and we only had twenty of the original forty rock slugs I had printed. I Recycled another twenty, just in case the battle ahead was as grueling as this floor.
We were on the way to the final lift when we had a minor setback; some kind of rope or string or fabric had gotten tangled around the front cart axle in all the fighting, greatly slowing down our movement speed. I knew the final test was coming, so I asked Mug if he minded stepping out and untangling it. If I knew anything from my years as a gamer, it was that movement speed was often king. Kiting was always preferable to face-tanking damage, and I did not want to get hit by the forge-hot breath of a fume wyrm.
"Of course, Master Lugenhelm! Right away!" Mug was surprisingly chipper for someone who had been firing a cannon and occasionally swinging an axe for the last few hours. In my mind, it was rather orcy to be so full of energy after a grueling battle in my opinion, but I didn’t want to bother him about it for now. He began to talk as he worked, hauling the full mine cart up with one hand as he fiddled with the axle.
"Master Lugenhelm, it seems as though you truly are a divine spirit! I must admit, I was unconvinced! I thought you might really be a demon or a spy or maybe some low-level trickster spirit, but no! You really are a hero that protects the house of Freise, even a lowly servant such as myself! Truly, I am grateful to squire for you on this journey!" Mug’s earnest words melted something in me.
"Ahh, thanks Mug. Not about the low-level trickster spirit part—that was uncalled for—but for, you know, everything else. For what it’s worth, Edvald is a moron to treat you like he does. We’re in a dark mine filled with poisonous gas and evil bugs, on our way to fight a small dragon, and you’re nothing but cheerful. If I was Edvald, I would... MUG, WATCH OUT!" A slag leech, hidden by the gases from its perch on the ceiling, dropped directly on top of Mug!
He wrestled with it while reaching for his axe as I sat there uselessly, unable to assist in any way. This was the first time I had felt truly helpless as a trashcan as I watched my one companion fight a beast almost twice his size while reaching for his weapon. I couldn’t operate the cannon on my own, and I didn’t want to risk trying to charge into them and hurt Mug.
Eventually, with a great groan, Mug managed to grab his axe with one hand, the other braced against the creature right under its jaws, which were uncomfortably close to Mug’s masked face. He brought it up into its side, then kicked it off him when it reeled back in pain. One, two, three more strikes to the head, and it was still. There was only one problem: Mug’s mask, which had been attached to his head with leather straps, had been broken in the tussle. He stood and looked at me, his face fully exposed to the thick green poison gas that filled this place.
Drop .5 Chapteres occasionally with Stats and Abilities?
