After resting for a few minutes, allowing myself to calm down after the run-in with the Trimean, I grabbed my pack and made my way back to the open garage door at a slow pace. In the distance, I could hear a few screams and what seemed to be more howling. An explosion erupted a mile or two away, briefly illuminating the sky above the base and giving me a better view of my surroundings.
“What the hell was that?” I murmured, partly to myself.
“My guess is that’s where our boss is. We should find a detour if possible. Engaging it directly would be unwise at your level,” Tiff advised.
As I surveyed the street, I pondered our next move. “Perhaps we could circumvent a few blocks and approach from another angle. I bet there’s a parade ground or a comparable open space at the heart of this area where the ships are probably stationed; it’s the perfect spot for that,” I speculated, examining the surroundings before casting another look down the street while detailing my plan.
“Handling one or two Trimeans at a time should be manageable, assuming there’s nothing else lurking here.” Tiff said, “Typically, there’s only one species in the tutorial level, though they might vary in rank and type. Let’s get moving. Keep an eye out for anything useful, but we need to be quick,”
I decided on a plan and started moving toward what I hoped was the parade ground. Before long, I stumbled upon what appeared to be a convenience store named The Main Exchange. I was hoping to find some food, water, or gasoline to add to my supplies, but the building was a facade. Clearly, this was designed to mimic an Earth-like setting, but it was far from authentic.
Circling to the rear of The Exchange, I looked at my map in the corner of my interface. There was a red dot on the backside of the building. I had neglected my mini-map before, and that neglect caused me to be surprised at the body shop. I had to be more aware and use the tools I had available to me if I was going to survive this place. Slowly, I made my way to the corner to try and get visual confirmation of what was waiting behind the building. It was another Trimean, its back was to me, and it wielded a small club-like weapon resembling a police baton. Observing it, the identification on my display read the same as before:
Trimean Ground Pounder– Level 3
My heart was racing, my palms were sweating, and a feeling of nausea began building in my stomach. I knew I had to kill this alien; there was no other choice. I couldn’t allow it to latch onto me like the last one did; this time, I needed to go in with the upper hand. “I’ll ambush it from behind,” I whispered. Despite Tiff’s ability to hear my thoughts, I spoke out of habit.
“Be swift and aim for a single-strike takedown like the previous one,” Tiff responded, “good luck.”
I ambushed the Trimean from behind; this one had no time to react. With all my strength, I grasped the tire iron’s curved end, raised it over my head, and drove it down into the back of the Trimean’s bulbous orange head. A sickening, slurping crunch echoed as the tire iron buried itself halfway into its skull. The Trimean collapsed and slid off the iron, lifeless.
“Yes! Got him!” I exclaimed in triumph. My heart was racing with adrenaline, but the kill was easier than the first one. Briefly, I wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Either way, it was something I had to do, and I was glad that it was an easy kill.
Level 3 Trimean Ground Pounder Defeated.
Experience Earned!
The notification flashed on the interface. I contemplated the video game-like rewards this dungeon rewarded for murder, and it disgusted me. There were other humans somewhere on this base fighting and dying, and their sacrifice rewarded their killers with experience points. The thought enraged me. On the other hand, the thought of getting rewarded for every one of these monsters I killed motivated me to kill as many as I possibly could. I didn’t create this dungeon, but I would use it to gain every advantage I could. A new notification populated on my interface, giving me a sense of accomplishment and renewed energy.
Level up! You are now Level 2.
“Hey, I leveled up!” I told Tiff. Before I got moving again, I took a second to look at my updated stat sheet. The new level was nice to see, but I realized the grind that I would be in for when I looked at my individual stats.
Name – Andrew Timothy Dawes
Race – Human
Level – P-2
Class – Havok Bringer
Stats –
Strength – P2 – 26%
Intelligence – P2 – 12%
Dexterity – P2 – 39%
Defense – P2 – 19%
Indeed, I experienced a sudden surge of energy and noticeable changes in my physique. It was as if I had emerged from an intense two-hour workout with the greatest pump ever. My muscles appeared slightly larger, making my shirt fit tighter. I executed a few quick steps and jumps, feeling faster and more powerful; the transformation was modest yet discernible.
“This is amazing,” I remarked, repeatedly observing my hands and clenching them into fists. Oh, look, he dropped a weapon,” I looked back down at the Trimean corpse, and a message populated on my interface:
Lootable Corpse – Level 3 Trimean Ground Pounder
Loot corpse now? Y/N
“Hell yeah, I finally get some loot!” I said, pumping my fist. I mentally selected yes, and the Trimean’s baton materialized in my hand. A description popped up as I inspected it.
Common Trimean Body Basher - Level 3
Blunt Force One-Handed Weapon
Abilities - Shocking Pulse
Requirements: Level 3 in any humanoid class.
When I picked it up, I immediately noticed it felt incredibly light, like aluminum. I swung it a few times as a test and noticed that it extended slightly to better match my size. “That’s convenient,” I said. “It’s Level 3. Does that mean I can’t use it? If I defeat two more Trimeans, I could level up again.”
“Actually, you can use it without the special abilities; it’s still effective for striking. When wielded by someone with the requisite level, the Body Basher generates an electrical pulse on impact, so it is a pretty good melee weapon, much better than a tire iron. To your second point, you will get about half of the experience per kill you got on Level 1 for the same level mob. A Level 4 Mob will give more experience than a Level 3 and so on. Also, you will need to be intentional in your fights as you progress, as I told you earlier. Your individual stats were already near their caps, so this first level-up came easy. Your next few levels will also come fairly easy, but don’t get too hung up on the experience per kill since, as you grow, there will be levels that take millions of XP to pass,” she explained, “you did well with those first two enemies, so I feel a little better about engaging a few more on the way to the shipyard, but again, let’s make sure you are as careful as possible.”
“Got it. Safety first,” I joked. I was in a dungeon, in space; safety went out the window a long time ago. I started making my way to the center of the base again, moving slowly and trying to take stock of my surroundings. I made it another couple of blocks, and this time before, I saw two more red dots on my mini-map. The dots were once again Trimeans: one standing in front of an empty office building and one walking away, turning the corner to walk toward the center of the base. My interfaces identification ability told me they were the same Level 3 infantry enemies as before.
I still had my tire iron, but I had slid it into the netting on the front of my pack and was going to use the baton this time. After taking a deep breath and mentally preparing myself, I ran up behind the first Trimean and prepared to attack. At the last moment, it turned to face me, surprise showing as it registered what was happening. I swung the baton across my body with my left hand and made contact with the right side of its big head. As it tried to gather itself and figure out what was happening, I swung the baton down and to the left, hitting it on the side of the right knee at the joint. I didn’t know anything about the aliens’ physiology, but “weak points are weak points,” I thought to myself, and sure enough, he went down like a sack of potatoes. I raised the baton over my head with both hands and swung down, clubbing him in the head repeatedly with the baton. It wasn’t easy like the tire iron; he died slowly, gurgling and choking on his own blood.
Once again, the kill was easier. There was no nausea this time, no sense that I had just murdered something; in place of those feelings, a coldness began to grow. These things wanted to kill me for no other reason than being human; I would not allow myself to feel pity. “Better you than me, buddy,” I said. I never asked to be here, but these guys were trying to kill me and anyone else here like me. I was glad he died slowly. The kill was confirmed by the now-familiar message popping up on my interface.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Level 3 Trimean Ground Pounder defeated – again…
Experience Earned!
I looked at the notification on my interface for a moment. One word stood out… again… until now, the notifications had been succinct and to the point. That one word felt…personal, though, like Randi was bored by my performance thus far. It’s possible that I was just overthinking it, so I got back to the task at hand. I cleaned the baton on the grass beside the dead Trimean before redirecting my attention to the one who walked away around the corner. My confidence was growing, so I decided to try something different. I was feeling a little more capable and possibly overconfident after my level-up, so I thought I should be able to dual-wield weapons. I pulled out the baton in my left hand and the tire iron in my right. “Yeah,” I said, “this feels pretty good. Now let’s go get that other one.”
I rounded the corner at a sprint, hoping to catch this one by surprise as well, but it heard me coming. The Trimean turned toward me in time to open its giant mouth and started to howl as it rushed me, arms raised, little feet churning. He never stood a chance. I used the same method I had employed on his buddy: baton to the side of the head, baton to the knee. This time, as the little bastard fell, it put up a hand in defense and began making a pitiful chittering noise. The alien held his knee with one hand and left the other raised in my direction…it was begging for its life, I realized. “Sorry, pal. I’m fresh out of fucks to give,” I said before tightening my grip on the baton and swinging it from right to left like a baseball bat, cratering his head like a rotten pumpkin.
Surprise, surprise – Level 3 Trimean Ground Pounder defeated.
Experience Earned!
Randi was definitely trying to make a point with the notifications. “Hey, Tiff. Is there any reason that my notifications would feel personal? I asked.
“What do you mean by that?” Tiff asked.
“Well,,. the last couple of kill notifications had a more personal feel. This one read, surprise, surprise, Level 3 Trimean Infantry defeated. Before that, it read Level 3 Trimean Infantry defeated…again. It feels like Randi isn’t a fan,” I said.
“I warned you against referring to the Master System AI as Randi. While AI doesn’t play favorites, it has shown the capacity to be petty in some cases. I would advise you to keep your head down and do your best not to draw any more of its attention,” Tiff said.
“Don’t draw its attention? I am literally here just trying to survive, and Randi is gonna be a petty bitch?” I shouted into the sky, “You don’t like my style, Randi? You don’t think I am flashy enough, Randi?! Well, how about this for flashy, RANDI?!” I shouted as I unzipped my pants and began urinating while spinning in a circle. “I’m pissing on your precious tutorial, RANDI. How do you like that, RANDI?” I shouted. I was being childish, but I wasn’t gonna be judged by some super AI that knew nothing about me other than the data it got in whatever file was built on me.
I had made my point, and I was feeling empowered until the thunder started. I looked up at the orange sky as the thunder continued and smiled. “Glad to see you’re a fan, buddy. Stay tuned; there is more where that came from…RANDI.”
“Did you get that out of your system?” Tiff asked. “Are you ready to continue?”
“Yeah, I’m getting pretty good at this murdering thing,” I said confidently as I wiped the black blood on the grass.
“Calm down, Rambo,” Tiff told me. These are very low-level mobs; don’t get too confident. It is going to get much tougher and fast.”
“Hey, gimme a second. I want to take a look at my stats before I move on,” I said.
I focused on my stats, and they populated my interface.
Name – Andrew Timothy Dawes
Race – Human
Level – P-2
Class – Havok Bringer
Stats –
Strength – P2 – 53%
Intelligence – P2 – 46%
Dexterity – P2 – 67%
Defense – P2 – 42%
“Hey, I’m making decent progress. I am already nearly halfway to the next level on my individual stats. Getting a few more of these on the way to the shipyard is really not a bad idea,” I said.
“I would caution you to be aware that the progress will get slower as you go, Andrew. Our focus right now needs to be clearing the tutorial and getting away safely. Please stay focused on the task at hand,” Tiff replied.
“Fine, I understand,” I said begrudgingly. “I’ll start making my way toward the parade grounds.” The progress was slow since I needed to stay out of sight and Tiff kept warning me not to try and clear the level. I did manage to kill one more Trimean as I continued pushing my way to the center of the base, though. There was a bunch of rebar sticking out of some broken asphalt, and when this one rushed at me, he nearly knocked me back into it. Fortunately, I tripped over my own feet and fell before it could push me back into the hole containing the deadly rebar pit. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t expect me to fall and fell over me, plunging face-first into the hole, impaling himself on the rebar.
Level 3 Trimean Ground Pounder defeated…wow, just wow.
Experience earned!
I read the message and smiled. It was obvious now that Randi was letting me know what he thought about my performance. “Hey, at least I got the experience,” I shrugged. “That was a close one,” I said, exhaling slowly. I checked my stats to see that nearly all of them were at or above 8. I wasn’t sure how that kill netted more statistical points but I was not complaining. “Looks like I need one more kill to get Level 3. Let’s try to find one more.”
“I am sure you will encounter more enemies on the path. There is no need to go out of your way looking for danger,” Tiff replied.
“Okay, we will do it your way,” I said, “but if I don’t run into one in the next half hour, I am going to go looking for one. “
Fifteen minutes later, as I got closer to what I hoped was the shipyard, I saw the red dots on my mini-map: Three Trimeans guarding a gate to the parade grounds. I took a second to identify them. Two were the same Level 3 Ground Pounders that I had seen this whole time, while the other was a Level 4 Trimean Corporal; he was two feet taller than the ground pounder and stood just a head shorter than me. The Corporal’s skin had blue tiger-like stripes, making it very easy to tell the difference. He was asleep on the ground with his back against the wall. The other two were semi-patrolling back and forth in front of the gate.
“I’ve got to get one of the ground pounder mobs to move away from the other two. I’m going to try and get his attention,” I said. I grabbed a handful of rocks and threw them at the guard shack on the left side of the gate, breaking a window. It worked just as I had hoped as one of the Level 3 Trimeans waddled over to the guard shack and walked inside to investigate the noise.
“One down,” I said, then I took my baton and threw it down the right-side street in front of the other Trimean. Sure enough, it started walking away from the other two. I ran around the building from which I was peeking. I went down behind and crossed the street to the other side. I then ran down toward the Trimean, who was inspecting the baton. It saw me before I could reach it, and then, to my dismay, it howled. “Oh, shit!” I said, knowing it would alert the other two mobs. I jumped in its direction and landed on it with my knees, rode it to the ground, and started punching.
My fists were not my best weapon, but in my panic, I could only think about shutting this thing up before the other two guards showed up. These things were stronger than they looked, though, and the Trimean struggled, grasping for my hand, wriggling underneath me as I punched for all I was worth. The level 2 strength and stamina were already paying off. I was stronger than just half an hour earlier and could feel the extra power in my punches. I didn’t get winded as early as I thought I should, either. It was weird, but it was also exhilarating.
“Finish him off already!” Tiff said. “Look at your mini-map. The other two are moving this way.”
Looking at the right-hand corner of what I decided to start calling my HUD, I saw the two red dots moving my way. I dug my knees into the struggling Trimean, pushed myself up with both hands as it grasped for my body and arms, stood over it, and started stomping over and over into his giant orange head with my left foot. It felt like I was crushing a giant watermelon under my feet. I wasn’t dressed for combat, wearing a tan short-sleeved button-up shirt, some old blue jeans, and a pair of old work boots I’d had since before the drop, but they did the trick. Within about ten seconds, the Trimean lay there twitching as it died. I saw the kill and level-up notifications immediately.
Level 3 Trimean Ground Pounder defeated.
Experience Earned!
Level Up! You are now Level 3!
I quickly took a second to pull up my new stats.
Name – Andrew Timothy Dawes
Race – Human
Level – P-3
Class – Havok Bringer
Stats –
Strength – P3 – 24
Intelligence – P3 – 01%
Dexterity – P3 – 44%
Defense – P3 – 13%
“Hell yeah, I got another level! Now, let’s try this baton for real,” I said, pumping my fist in triumph.
I quickly moved back around the corner as the other two Trimeans approached. As I crouched against a dilapidated building, I could hear them chittering at each other as they inspected the dead body of their ally.
“I’m gonna run back around the building and come up behind the big one,” I whispered as I backtracked quietly, trying to get into a position of surprise. As I rounded the third corner, I slowed and stuck myself to the red brick wall peeking carefully around to see them. The two Trimeans were still chittering at each other, seemingly panicked and almost seeming to argue with each other. The Level 4 Corporal was closest to me. I waited for the right moment. As the Level 3 Trimean Ground Pounder turned his back and began inspecting the body again, I made my move.
I ran with only the baton in my right hand and the tire iron back in my pack netting.
“You don’t need to do anything. Just hit him, and the ability will activate,” Tiff said, seemingly reading my mind.
I ran straight to the corporal, slid up to his back, and swung. As I made contact, the baton exploded with electricity, a bright white flash of electricity rippled through its body. The Level 4 Corporal fell, twitching in pain. I moved toward the ground pounder guard before it could even take a step. “Whaaap!” a left-handed overhand swing right into the top of the head, followed by a crackling buzz as it fell.
With both guards incapacitated, I immediately pulled out my tire iron and finished them both off with a stab through the head.
Level 3 Trimean ground pounder defeated.
Experience earned!
Level 4 Trimean Corporal defeated.
Experience earned!
“Damn!” I said, breathing heavily. “That thing packs a punch! I’m glad that Trimean didn’t get a chance to use it on me!”
“Yeah, it’s a decent weapon at low levels. It was a lucky find, but it won’t faze anything over Level 8 or 9 unless you upgrade it or find a better one,” Tiff said.
I didn’t receive any new loot from my latest kills, but I was at Level 3 and a quick glance at my stats told me I was a quarter of the way to Level 4.
“Okay, I’m gonna head back to the gate and see if I can get an idea of what’s inside,” I said.
When I made it back to the gate, I saw the shipyard. It seemed to contain hundreds of different types of small spacecraft. Some were very space-age-looking, like what you might see in a sci-fi movie. Some were rectangular, sitting on three pieces of landing gear. A few were even completely round, like giant metal balls. In the middle of the shipyard was a stage and a console of sorts.
“I’m guessing that is where we need to go. Something on that stage has to tell us which ship is ours,” I said.
“Agreed. Let’s see if we can move that way,” Tiff said.
I slowly stepped past the gate into the parade yard and saw a large striped being: as soon as I looked at it, the identification popped up:
Trimean Drill Sergeant – Level 8
“Well, fuck me,” I said, shaking my head as the gate sealed behind me.
