Gestation by John Gold (love books to read .txt) 📗

Physical damage ignored up to 1592/second

It didn’t take going far before that happened. I can’t be far from the fortress if I’m taking that much more damage. I need to keep going, keep working on my resistance.

Another hour goes by, and I’ve found the right level of damage and crawled into a secluded spot but it turns out to be inhabited by a blend of mole and human. To be honest, I jumped when it popped out of the ground right in front of me. As part of the loot I get from him, there’s a shovel, and I give him his dues by digging him a grave.

∞ ∞ ∞

Damage taken: 4500 (ignored: 1592)

125/2000

Resistance to physical damage: +0.02%

Physical damage ignored up to 1677/second

Resistance to mental damage: +0.01%

Mental damage ignored up to 1071/second

That scared me. A little more, and I would have lost all the work I’ve put in over the past four months. There is one thing I’ve noticed, however: the worse your wounds, the faster your survivability improves. The same is true with resistance: the harder you get hit, the quicker it goes.

Off in the distance, there’s an enormous fortress with two towers. Above it, on a separate little island, is a crystal. Even my simple eyes can see the red waves emanating from it. Although, on my map it looks like I have a good 24 hours of running ahead of me before I get to the center of the circle, so there are either two rings of fortresses or there’s another one in the center.

I sit there for three days working on my resistance. The moles really get on my nerves, constantly popping right up under my legs. There’s a whole graveyard in here!

My perception reaches 140. There’s more detail in the world around me: from a way off, I can see the tiniest details on the dwarf trees, and even blades of grass. It’s time to head toward the fortress.

As soon as a patrol marches by, I set off after them. The demons are ridiculously talkative, and I learn lots of new words, the latest gossip, and even some useful information. I’m currently in the domain of Latimin, to whom the fortress belongs. The scouts belonged to Ovidius’ neighboring domain. Quick skirmishes are the norm, and help the demons level-up. The strongest ones are sent to serve in the lower circles of Hell. At the center of the ninth circle, there’s Fales’ fortress. That’s where I need to go.

I follow them for about a kilometer.

∞ ∞ ∞

Damage taken: 8500 (ignored: 6592)

225/2000

It takes me a week to get to the level I need to be to get closer to the fortress. Nobody sees me in the small cave I use for this purpose, though that’s mostly due to the prickly bush covering the entrance. Then, two gargoyles notice me and fly down. I drag them, stunned, into the cave. Outside, there’s a lake of lava, and the heat is monstrous.

Taking blood from the gargoyles, I draw pentagrams and drag the flying beasts on top of them. Healing and vampire spikes pin them to the ground. I just need to make sure that they stay on top of the pentagrams.

∞ ∞ ∞

Damage taken: 86300 (ignored: 63722)

12422/35000

Resistance to fire: +0.02%

Thermal damage ignored up to 63998/second

One weak healing restores 6060 health; nine streams gives me 54540. I take 22538 fire damage, leaving the other two streams to keep the gargoyles stunned.

I think back to the last conversation I had with the “psychologist”: after a long monologue about how I need to talk more with my peers, I found out that she can watch recordings of my gameplay. Eliza knows that I’m in some kind of terrible location where I’m constantly hurting myself. As she talks about deviances related to masochism, she makes a very serious face. I laugh for a long time, and her face only gets more serious. If she could only see what I’m doing with the gargoyles or my first experiments with necromancy, she’d say that I have a penchant for sadism. She hasn’t touched me for two months, Vaalsie isn’t punishing me, and I couldn’t be happier.

I purposely avoid using the demon appearance since I need my normal look to work with all my streams of consciousness. I’ll figure it out.

For the past week, I’ve been trying to find a replacement for the gargoyles. They’re too weak: at Level 144, they only have 17500 health. I’ve gotten up to 6.12% resistance to physical damage, ignoring up to 10752. With fire, the story is even better: 23.19% (up to 163792 damage ignored per second). I imagine the damage done by the aura near the fortress will reach 50000.

Suddenly, my solution appears: two squads and Harol himself.

“Ah, there you are! Are you going to come with us quietly or will we have to take you by force?”

They remind me of the kids back at the orphanage. It’s all about force. But I need victims, and I just logged into the game. I have plenty of time to work.

“Somebody’s been killing us recently, so tell us where your friends are. Tell us, and you’ll die quickly…”

The fight lasts five minutes. My enhanced strength, magic, and incredible speed mean that nobody can stand against me. Four of them stay constantly stunned, I heal myself, I attack with magic, and I send destruction spikes flying at them. Ultimately, three are left alive: two gargoyle commanders and Harol, who got his wings broken immediately. Just in case, I leave a wailer, too. The battle turned out to be a good way of testing my skills. Having survived, I go around collecting loot and burning bodies.

Then, I drag the four bodies away, brush away my tracks, kill a few beasts who noticed me, and brush away my tracks again. Four is too many, but, like Galboa always said, it isn’t work when you’re working for yourself.

The next two days are spent giving a show of pain—not mine, of course. I kill the wailer, using the