18 Investigate(2)
"Status"
[Scanning Host's Body…]
[Scan Complete!]
[-Status-
Name: Desmond
Gender: Male
Age: 3 years
Race: Human
Class: Swordsman
Occupation: None
Unique Energy: 0.00/5.05
Strength: 6.56
Agility: 0.36
Stamina: 1.63
Trait Effect:
Selfishness (Unique) (Self-Growth)
- Increase Strength, Agility, and Stamina by 20%
- Increase Amount of Unique Energy Gathering by 0.003
- Decrease the effect of sharing anything by 10%]
A hint of concern flickered across Desmond's face as he observed the readout of his body's status. "This is bad," he murmured, his voice tinged with disappointment. "Merely utilizing a simple spell drains my energy. It seems you are my only hope." His gaze shifted to the sword hanging from his waist, his right hand instinctively grasping its hilt.
Within the depths of the underground chamber, darkness reigned supreme, pierced only by the feeble glow emanating from the candlelit walls. Desmond's vision was severely restricted in this desolate space. The walls bore the scars of neglect, marred by numerous cracks that hinted at the passage of time. The mossy and soiled floor harbored the grim remains of deceased rats, strewn haphazardly as silent witnesses to the underground's decay.
"The most perilous moments arise when they remain hidden while we remain exposed," Desmond muttered, his voice laden with caution. Those words etched themselves into his consciousness, a mantra that would guide him through the trials of his existence.
His attention then turned to his sword-wielding hand, noticing a faint tremor and a loss of grip. "It seems my strength has waned. Perhaps this state of diminished energy is to blame," he contemplated, a thoughtful furrow appearing on his brow.
Desmond summoned his expertise as a swordsman, relying on the honed techniques he had studied meticulously. "Swordsman Skill: Body Enhancement," he invoked, directing the power of his skill towards his hand.
Through diligent research and experimentation, Desmond had discovered that his skills as a swordsman did not deplete his unique energy or stamina reserves. He deduced that swordsmen drew power from within themselves rather than relying on external forces. The swordsman skill primarily augmented the circulation of his vital fluid, intensifying the flow within his body. However, unlike the spell's energy drain, prolonged use of swordsman skills came with its own drawbacks.
The extent of these drawbacks depended on which aspect of the skill was overexerted. For instance, excessive usage of body enhancement on a specific body part would invite searing pain as a consequence. It was akin to enduring a thousand cuts on that limb, repeatedly severed and reattached, creating an agonizing ordeal.
The higher the rank of the swordsman class, the lesser the pain and the increased maximum usage of skills, Desmond contemplated. "For now, I can only employ this skill three times a day. I'd better save one more for emergencies," he decided, acknowledging the limitations of his current prowess.
Moving cautiously through the dimly lit hallway, Desmond relied on his heightened senses, his grip on the sword tightening as he navigated the treacherous path. With restricted vision, he took deliberate steps, aware of the potential dangers lurking in the shadows.
Unbeknownst to him, as he advanced further, his foot inadvertently pressed upon a floor tile stained with blood. The realization struck him like a jolt of electricity, his heart racing and perspiration beading on his forehead. Desmond swiftly retreated two steps, a curse escaping his lips. "Shit! It must be a trap!"
His keen gaze darted around the vicinity, searching for signs of impending danger. Suddenly, a faint grinding sound echoed from the front, drawing his attention. Desmond's eyes fixated on a small object gradually inching closer, his focus laser-sharp.
50 meters.
25 meters.
The object surged forward with alarming speed, hurtling towards Desmond. And then...
At 5 meters, Desmond instinctively tilted his body, evading the projectile. His gaze followed the object's trajectory, confirming his suspicion. "An arrow, huh."
"It's too convenient if that's the only arrow," he mused, his senses attuned to the eerily quiet surroundings. Moments later, the sound of shifting lids reverberated once more. Desmond returned to his original position, his senses heightened, ready to face the impending challenge.
"If it's only one arrow, I can utilize it to hone my agility and reaction," he reasoned, his grip on the sword tightening further, an intensity burning within his youthful eyes.
The arrow hurtled toward him once again, but this time, it was accompanied by a shadowy figure, emerging behind each arrow. Desmond swiftly estimated their numbers—a staggering hundred arrows unleashed in unison.
"Shit! Fuck!" Desmond's expletive burst forth, his mind racing to find a solution. The first arrow aimed for his head, but with his enhanced strength, he skillfully cleaved it in half with a swift stroke of his sword.
Simultaneously, the second arrow raced towards his eyes, but with the aid of his swordsman skill "Reflex," he deftly lowered his head, allowing the arrow to narrowly pass by. However, his agility came at a price, as the third arrow found its mark, piercing through his leg.
Fortunately, only the initial three arrows struck him in rapid succession. The subsequent barrage maintained a distance of 1-5 meters between each projectile, granting him a fraction more ease in avoiding them.
"Fuck, it hurts, dammit!" Desmond grimaced as he struggled to extract the arrow embedded in his leg. Gritting his teeth, he mustered all his strength and yanked it free with a sharp tug. "Huff... relax," he muttered, taking a moment to steady his breathing.
With his concentration sharpening, Desmond's senses heightened. He became acutely aware of five arrows hurtling towards him simultaneously. Reacting swiftly, he executed a swift slash, the force of his strike creating a gust of wind that impeded the arrows' progress, slowing their velocity.
It was not enough to rely solely on his offensive maneuvers. Desmond's movements became a symphony of slashes and evasive maneuvers, seamlessly weaving to the right and left. His agility pushed the boundaries, nearing the skill of the first-rate swordsmen capable of leaving afterimages in their wake.
After a few intense minutes, the onslaught of arrows ceased. However, Desmond remained cautious, allowing a few more moments to elapse before finally lowering himself to the floor, his body weary.
"Hah, hah..." His breathing remained ragged, his mouth opening and closing in rapid succession as he struggled to regulate his intake of air. His heaving chest mirrored the strain he had endured.
"That was... truly terrifying. If it weren't for the skills passed down by my father, I might have been a lifeless corpse by now."
Curiosity piqued, Desmond called upon the holographic display once more.
"Status."
[Scanning Host's Body...]
[Scan Complete!]
[-Status-
Name: Desmond
Gender: Male
Age: 3 years
Race: Human
Class: Swordsman
Occupation: None
Unique Energy: 0.00/5.05
Strength: 7.00
Agility: 0.36 -> 0.40
Stamina: 1.63
Trait Effect:
Selfishness (Unique) (Self-Growth)
- Increase Strength, Agility, and Stamina by 20%
- Increase Amount of Unique Energy Gathering by 0.003
- Decrease the effect of sharing anything by 10%
System Conclusion: The host has sustained minor injuries to the leg. The wound is expected to heal within 3 hours, with the potential for faster recovery by focusing energy on regeneration.]
Desmond furrowed his brow upon studying the lengthy data presented before him. "This information is too verbose. Next time, focus solely on the stats," he remarked, expressing his desire for a more concise report.
[Creating Task...
Used 1 Slot
Status: Working 0%]
[Working 50%...]
[Status: Completed]
[Saving to Database...]
[Data Saved!]
"I still have ample stamina, so a short rest is in order."
However, Desmond's mind quickly drifted back to the day of his reincarnation. "But now is not the time to relax." Determined, he rose to his feet and settled into a seated position, crossing his legs.
