HC: Pacifist | Ch. 211 - Back to Reality

ColdHand studied the battlefield and grimaced. Things were coming to a turning point. In his estimation, if they lost two more players, they would lose the battle. They had just enough crowd-control skills right now to stop Loki at crucial moments, but they were soon going to be short-handed, and they would reach a point in the battle where their skills were on cooldown while Loki’s weren’t. Once that happened, Loki would make quick work of them.

They had been so close, too. Ogre was putting out serious damage now. If only they had some way to buy more time, one minute to give their cooldowns enough time to refresh and help them bring Loki’s health a little lower. Then, he could teleport Cerberus and execute Loki’s remaining health. Sadly, Loki was just too strong. Knockbacks, stuns, and freezes were largely ineffective against him. He had such a high level and such a high resilience stat that he almost instantly snapped out of whatever crowd control skill they threw at him.

Not even with Kraken's debuffs had they reduced his resistances enough to make their crowd control effects last longer. Loki sidestepped the icicles that ColdHand threw his way and feinted an attack toward MountainTop, making him waste a life-saving skill. Instead, he sent an attack in the opposite direction toward BlueFire. BlueFire’s [Flame Body] and [Fire Shield] were on cooldown. There was no way that he could save himself. They couldn't afford to lose BlueFire, so ColdHand did the only thing he could.

“Cooler. I’m sorry.” The polar bear threw itself at Loki’s attack, blocking it and dying. He would have to pay a hefty price to resurrect his pet later, but he had kept BlueFire alive for now.

“Thanks for taking that hit for me, Cold,” messaged BlueFire. “I owe you one.”

With each player's death in the hunting party, the pressure on Loki lessened, and he moved more freely, causing them more trouble. His attacks were becoming harder to predict. He sent a series of attacks against Ticket Boy again, which Jaw-Long repelled with difficulty, and then turned to Manny. The biomonk used a life-saving skill, but Loki blinked to close the gap and slashed with his claws. Manny’s other skills were on cooldown, as were MountainTop’s and Ogre’s. He couldn’t do anything but take the hit and drop dead.

ColdHand bit his lip. This wasn't good. Losing Manny was a severe blow to their plans. They had hit the tipping point. They needed time to refresh their cooldowns. They were falling like flies.

*

Roth's hands worked with a life of their own. What before were clumsy transitions between stitches now looked effortless and seamless. The difference was notable not only in the seeming ease of the technique but also in the garments. After getting more comfortable switching between purl and knit stitches, he started paying more attention to other details in his workmanship, elevating it to another level.

One of the improvements was knowing what stitch to use in each clothing segment. Whenever he worked on sleeves, ankles, waistbands, or collars, he used the rib stitch, which provided a little bit of elasticity and spared him the need to run a band or a thread to tighten the fabric. Whenever he wanted to make the main body of the clothing, he resorted to the stockinette stitch to grant the fabric more strength. Thanks to these and other minor adjustments, instead of getting C's and B’s, Roth steadily got As and even the occasional S's.

He worked through the recipes he had purchased before leaving the city, making sweaters, pants, socks, and capes, working through his stock of wool. After finishing yet another cape, as his hands moved towards the pile of skeins of yarn, he found nothing but air. He had used up everything.

As he looked left and right and found no skeins of yarn, the anchor that had kept his mind distracted from his surroundings collapsed. The illusion Roth had cast on himself was like a castle of sand hit by an ocean wave. The desperate shouts and the bangs and rings of explosions returned in full.

What had just happened? He only remembered feeling the need to get away, and suddenly, he was crafting, and then he was here again. He checked the time. Had he been crafting over the past six hours? He didn't remember anything about the battle since he'd grabbed his needles. It looked like instead of his PTSD manifesting as him going on a rampage trying to prevent the battle, in this instance, it just motivated him to close himself off in his own world and craft non-stop.

He remembered where he was. He was in a battle between the top guilds and Loki. However, the scene had become more manageable for his distressed and traumatized mind. Fewer people were fighting. Where had everyone gone? He remembered he could transport 99 others, but why were only 20 people here?

The battle scars dug deep into the observatory's walls, ceilings, and floors answered his question. Loki himself didn't look unscathed from the confrontation either. His health bar had reached the dangerous red zone, and his previously pristine exoskeleton had scratches, tears, and scorch marks. As haggard as he looked, he seemed much better off than the ragged bunch attacking him.

The long hours of hard battle had taken its toll on the guilds. MountainTop and Ogre had baggy eyes and a saggy demeanor, and even to Roth's untrained battle reflexes, it was obvious that they weren't moving as agilely and swiftly as when they had arrived. The ones who looked better off were the espers who stuck in the back shooting skills whenever they could. Even Jaw-Long seemed to have started participating more actively in the battle. He was not only guarding Roth but attacked Loki at every chance he got.

He opened his messages and found hundreds of notifications. He remembered reading the ones related to crafting, but he didn’t remember reading any of the others. Some were from his temporary teammates.

ColdHand - “Ticket Boy, what are you doing?”

Jaw-Long - “Get back here so I can protect you, you imbecile!”

ColdHand - “What are you doing, Ticket Boy? Why are you crafting?”

BlueFire - “Why are you trying to get me killed? What did I do to you?”

ColdHand - “Stop running around the battlefield. Leave BlueFire alone.”

BlueFire - “Roth, we’re trying to talk to you. Are you having a stroke? Why are you moving like that? You’re freaking everyone out. We’re calling an ambulance.”

BlueFire - “Never mind. The Ogres have a psychiatrist. Ogre tells me he’s willing to pay for a few appointments for you once this is done. Just so you know.”

There were many other similar messages from other teammates. Roth flushed embarrassedly as he realized that to these guys, he looked bananas. After all, what sane person would start crafting while everyone was fighting for their lives? How were they going to take him seriously after this?

As he skimmed through the old notifications, a new one arrived, which left Roth speechless.

Lin has eaten [The Great Ash Buffalo’s Sirloin Steak].

+12 strength;

+10 dexterity.

[Level Up!]

+2 strength;

+1 perception;

+2 subterfuge.

“Where is Lin?” He mumbled to himself, jolting upright. He opened his jacket, looking for the little kitten. He was gone.

Lin has eaten [Moon Mushroom Fruit].

+6 perception;

+7 insight;

+10 ep.

Lin was somehow gaining absurd stats and values.  What were all these treasured consumables? Where had he found them? The notifications were live. He was eating all sorts of rare things and gaining levels right now. Where had he gone? What was happening?

Roth filtered his notifications so only pet-related messages appeared, and he tried to make sense of what had happened. Lin had repeatedly asked him for food hours ago. The poor thing. He must have been so hungry. While he was in a crafting trance, his little kitten had been desperate for milk—no wonder he had run off and looked for food elsewhere.

He kept scrolling until he saw Lin self-taught the [Breaking and Entering] skill. What did it mean he self-taught it? Was it because he was Oli's clone? Maybe cat burgling was something encoded deeply in his genes.

After that, it was just a never-ending list of notifications about Lin eating and leveling up. He hurriedly looked up Lin’s stats, and his jaw dropped.

Lin (Pet)

Pet rating: S+

Lvl. 41

Alignment: Darkness (79/100)

Affection: 64/100

Subterfuge: 312

Strength: 204

Dexterity: 302

Insight: 51

Perception: 101

Intelligence: 121

Wisdom: 191

Mischief: 241

Skills: [Nine Lives]; [Owner]; [Breaking and Entering]; [Stealth]; [Steal]; [Pickpocket]; [Felinian Dash]; [Dodge]; [Scratch]; [Slash]; [Counterfeit]; [Criminal Mastermind]; [Wool Steps]; [Double Jump]; [Triple Jump]; [Predatory Eyes]; [Prowl]; [Bite]; [Double Bite]; [Naughty Antics]; [Independent Thinker].

How was Lin level 40? How on earth had he surpassed his level? What were all these stats and skills? There was even a stat that he had never heard about: mischief. It was freakishly high, too.

“Lin!” he shouted. As soon as he did, several eyes turned toward him. The most intense gaze came from Loki, who looked at him with a crazed fury that Roth had never seen in the psychopath’s eyes. The guild members looked exasperated for the most part. Ogre was the exception, with an amused smile on his face. Roth didn’t care about their judging looks. All he cared about was his little kitten. “Lin!” he called again.

He searched around desperately and finally saw his little kitten. He seemed to have grown since he last saw him. Instead of a clumsy, mousy thing, he did more justice to his species now. His limbs were slightly longer, and his eyes were no longer blue, but a greenish yellow. He also had learned to walk with renewed elegance and grace.

Seeing Roth calling for him, the little kitten's tail sprang up, signaling his joy. That only lasted for a moment before the tail went back down, and he sat, looking sideways, ignoring Roth.

“Come here, Lin. I'm very sorry. I promise I'll make it up to you. I'll get you some food.”

The cat seemed uninterested in the proposition. Probably, his belly was too full from all the eating. By now, the fighting had simmered down as people paid some attention to the exchange between Roth and the little cat while performing half-hearted attacks.

“Come here, little kitty,” Roth screamed, not daring to get in the middle of the battlefield. “I promise I’ll play with you to your heart’s content. I’ll get you a toy. Two toys. As many as you want.”

Hearing the words ‘play’ and ‘toy,’ the cat seemed slightly more interested. He weighed his options for a moment and finally headed toward Roth.

*

Loki dodged yet another skill and threw another attack. He was tired. If only his spinal cord hadn't been damaged, moving around would have been so much easier. Movements that he could have done with his legs had to be coordinated through the nerves in his arms, making it all the more difficult to move and attack simultaneously. But still, despite his limitations, he had already eliminated more than 70 players.

Only the most troublesome remained, but the fewer of them there were, the easier it was to finish them. He could feel the scales slowly tipping. There were fewer crowd control skills landing on him, allowing him to move more freely and attack without hindrance. If things kept going this way, it wouldn't be too long before he could crush them all with one last bout of attacks. Good thing, too. He didn't have it in him to fight much longer. Ogre's hits were falling like hammers, and he was already dealing monstrous chunks of damage.

He would have been long gone if not for the level difference and his high resilience. The thing that tired him the most was being angry, being angry at that brute lunatic who went out of his way to make his life miserable and hellish. He had come along in this hunt solely to annoy him and mock him, and he couldn't take it anymore. He regretted not having killed the Slayer when he had the chance. Why did he have to play with him? Why had he made such an unwise decision?

“Lin!”

“Uh?” He stopped and looked at the Slayer. Had he finally stopped knitting to make fun of him? Had he finally decided to man up and fight him like the old Slayer would have done?

“Lin!”

Lin? Who was Lin? Loki looked everywhere but found nothing. Only after following the glances of everyone around him did he finally spot the cat. There was something off about it. If Loki wasn’t fully focused on it, he couldn’t see it. Was this the Slayer's pet? He had never seen a cat in the game. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen cats, tigers, lions, or felines of any type. Why didn't he know about them?

The Slayer started talking to the pet, ignoring Loki and the battle. Was he mocking him again? Loki clenched his jaw. He would kill the cat, he would kill the Slayer, he would kill them all. How dare he still make fun of him after he fought so valiantly and killed so many of the top players in the game? The Slayer was out of his depth, and it was up to Loki to remind him of that. He threw a skill at the cat, who turned into a blur and evaded it. Such impressive speed! Loki shot another skill; this time, the cat seemed afraid of it. Good, that dodge was just a one-time life-saving skill. Just as the skill was about to land, the Slayer screamed, and the whole scene around them turned gray.

Peace Decree!

Ch. 210 - Lin’s Adventure

INDEX

Ch. 212 - Tipping Point