Crossroads of Growth
Among all the lizardmen I'd faced, the strongest was a low-rank warrior with four white stripes on his band. They said the number of stripes represented a warrior's experience, so even as a low-rank, he must've been a battle-hardened veteran stacked with seniority. In fact, throughout our fight, I kept getting the impression he was extremely accustomed to combat.
How big would the power gap be between a low-rank warrior loaded with experience and a mid-rank one without it? Like the difference between a grizzled master sergeant and a fresh second lieutenant—maybe the four-stripe low-rank was actually stronger. But that upper-rank lizardman mixed in among them looked insanely powerful just from his gear and sheer bulk.
Fuck, what the hell should I do?
Struggling against that low-rank lizardman happened because I'd deliberately equipped shitty gear and nerfed my stats. But even if I swapped gear now, breaking through that swarm of lizardmen didn't seem feasible.
Options like holing up inside the ruins, luring them in one by one, or waiting for them to scatter crossed my mind. The problem was my poisoned status. If I just sat tight, I might drop dead right here. Paralysis symptoms were intensifying in real-time, making movement a hassle.
No clue how long I could hold out like this. I'd need prior poison exposure to gauge it.
Should I trust my vitality, bide my time, and wait for an opening? Or fight my way out before the condition worsened further?
"Fuck, fuck..."
Cold sweat dripped down. Was it nerves or the poison? Damn it, my head wasn't working right.
-Clank! Clank!
The equipped lizardmen were marching toward the ruins. Staying put meant getting spotted—I had to decide fast.
Fuck it, I was out of ideas. Anything but sitting here and dying like a chump.
I opened my inventory and swiftly equipped my sealed original gear.
-Thud!
I charged at the lizardman scouting the entrance, kicking off the fight.
Lizardmen, thanks to countless battles, always kept their nerves on edge to some degree. But this mob swarming the ruins felt overly lax, probably because of their numbers.
I bolted out and yanked a dagger from my inventory, hurling it at the upper-rank warrior with the red band. Plan was to take out the strongest first—but they weren't that easy.
-Ting!
The lizardman deflected my thrown dagger like he'd anticipated it. No way he actually predicted it; his combat reflexes were just on another level.
Ambush failed completely. I lunged at the nearest lizardman, thrusting my sword.
-Stab!
He raised his guard quick, but my boosted attack power from the gear swap pierced his throat in one go. Red critical effect exploded as I spun, slashing the one on my left.
-Crunch!
My forceful swing pierced his armor, landing another critical.
Two down in a flash, but dozens more lizardmen remained.
-Kerruk! Kerruk!
The upper-rank lizardman who looked like the commander bellowed, and one charged with a spear thrust. Judgment speed, transition to combat—both top-tier. Spear speed too.
-Clang!
I blocked with my shield, stepped forward, and smashed down at his crown. But he read the trajectory, dodging by shaking his head. The blade sank into his shoulder.
Damn, paralysis slowed my attack speed. Normally, I'd have split his skull.
No, it wasn't just the poison nerfing my physicals. That sloppy strike would've hit a white-band lizardman clean. Blue-band mid-ranks were definitely stronger—basic reaction speeds differed sharply.
-Boom!
A mace from some lizardman smashed my shield. Not just reactions; mid-ranks packed more base strength too. I got the ranking criteria now. Low-ranks with seniority were seasoned and skilled. High-ranks had superior raw physicals regardless of skill.
Of course, that wasn't good news. Vets with high ranks lurked here too.
"Shit..."
If ranks purely reflected skill, I could've brute-forced like on floors 1 and 2 with overwhelming specs.
-Thwack!
"Gah...!"
An arrow from the lizardmen pack nailed my shoulder. Fuck, what arrow hits this hard?
Glancing at the source: a red-band lizardman with three stripes, wielding a massive longbow. Speak of the devil—a high-rank vet showed up right away. Arrow power screamed insane strength, and nailing my shoulder through this crowd? God-tier aim.
-Kick!
I booted nearby mid-rank warriors to advance, but more piled on. 2-meter-tall lizardmen blocking with numbers felt like a mountain. And the bowman leisurely nocked and fired from afar.
-Twang! Thunk!
"Argh!"
Another arrow exploited my armor gap. Hurt like hell. Poison worsened simultaneously—vision narrowing now.
No way out of this. Was I dying here?
Passive Skill: Poison Resistance Lv.1 acquired.
Thought I'd die quick, but awakening in crisis was real. The beatdown from dozens should've ended it, yet the fight dragged on weirdly.
-Crack, slash!
A lizardman's head trying to parry with my shield flew off. Critical effect.
Passive Skill: Paralysis Resistance Lv.2 acquired.
The prolonged fight stemmed from unexpected resistance skills. Poison and paralysis resistance eased the worsening symptoms bit by bit. Resistances weren't cures—poison progressed again later—but it bought time.
-Keeeek!
Meanwhile, lizardmen numbers dwindled, external wounds healing instead.
Intelligence +2
20% chance on enemy kill to recover 5% HP.
Enhancement slots remaining: 0
Thanks to the unique item from floor 1, Vampirefiend Ring. No time for potions, but kills sporadically refilled HP. More kept coming—not all were the initial dozens—but low-level lizardmen were potion fodder now.
-Stab!
"Ah, fuck."
If only I could deal with that bow-wielding lizardman...
Passive Skill: Instinct Lv.3 acquired.
I deflected an arrow aimed at my chest with my shield. Third time now. I was timing the sporadic arrows.
Over half still hit despite predictions, but accuracy improved, boosting Instinct skill level alongside.
Instinct growth made fights smoother. I dodged some mid-rank scrubs' attacks without looking.
Skill growth didn't stop there.
Passive Skill: Combat Persistence Lv.9 acquired.
Maybe from sustaining combat under poison—Combat Persistence leveled noticeably.
Cold sweat still poured from poison, vision flickering dark and light.
Somehow, I was grasping how to fight in poor condition. Anxiety mounted as fights dragged initially, but watching myself grow in crisis? A laugh bubbled up.
Passive Skill: Paralysis Resistance Lv.3 acquired.
"Heh."
Sounded insane, but the poison's torment felt welcome now.
The endless-seeming ruin lizardmen weren't infinite after all. Slaughtered tons of mid-rank warriors; the bowman was now in my face.
Four upper-rank warriors left, including the archer—all red-banded.
-Kerruk, keruk! Keruk!
Enraged, they gripped heavy weapons, forming ranks to encircle me.
No direct clashes with uppers yet, let alone this coordinated assault.
But I didn't feel like losing. Not spec-based confidence.
In this extreme pinch, my skills skyrocketed; the poison lost all effect.
"Hey, hold up a sec."
I dropped my sword, opened inventory, and swapped to the high-durability trash set again.
My growth was massive, but not perfect yet. When else would I face four uppers at once?
"Alright, come at me. I wanna grow more."