I sprinted toward the giant drake, its shriek sending shivers down my spine. As I closed the distance, I realized—there was no way I could hold its jaws shut with a guillotine choke. This one would have to go down through accumulated damage.
I surged forward, but just as it lunged, I planted on the balls of my feet and rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding a bone-crushing bite. NOPE. Its reach was too wide—I couldn't simply cut an angle with footwork alone.
"Brynjolf! Get its attention!" I barked, stealing a quick glance at him.
He nodded, his peaceful face twisting into a mask of fury in an instant. With a roar, Brynjolf charged, leaping high and bringing his battleaxes down in a devastating arc. His blades tore into the drake broodmother's hide, shaving its HP down to 94%. The beast screeched, snapping its snout toward him and lunging with a vicious bite—only for Brynjolf to slip out of reach just in time.
Its side was exposed. This is my opening. But what could I do? Trading blows with something this massive was suicide—straight-up boxing wouldn't work. Hit-and-run? Is there a martial art that emphasizes mobility?
I thought of one of the all-time greats—Stephen "Wonderboy" Thompson. Dropping my hands to my hips, I took inspiration from his Karate and stood sideways, left foot forward, right foot back, bouncing lightly on my toes. I have to stay mobile. Strike fast. Evade faster.
I pushed off my back foot, snapping out a left jab, right straight into its exposed ribs, my low guard keeping my balance sharp. Then I sprung back, pivoting hard on my lead foot—left heel pointing toward its body as I torqued my torso into a spinning back kick. My right heel slammed into its flank before I retracted, pivoted back into stance, and dashed away just as it trashed wildly.
My strikes were not as hard-hitting as Brynjolf's slashes, but the damage was adding up.
With Level 20 Brynjolf at my side, this was becoming a cakewalk. He slashed and crushed through the beast with brute force and savagery, while I floated like a butterfly, and stung like a bee with rapid punch-kick combinations, both of us dwindling its HP down...
Until the drake adapted.
The Broodmother feinted, luring Brynjolf into committing to an attack—then SNAP! Its massive jaws clamped down on him, fangs sinking deep into his flesh. His roar of agony sent a chill down my spine, his towering frame trembling under the beast's grip.
"Brynjolf, no!"
I surged forward, slamming punch after punch into its scaled hide, desperate to pull its aggro. My fists might as well have been raindrops on stone. The drake only bit down harder, its stomach swelling ominously.
Oh, shit—
BOOM!
A fireball erupted from its gut, launching Brynjolf like a ragdoll. His charred body crashed and tumbled across the grass, smoke trailing from his armor.
"I'll gut you for that—"
But before I could react, the Broodmother whipped around.
WHAM!
Its massive, spiked tail slammed into my legs like a battering ram.
FUCK!
Agony detonated through my bones as I was ripped off my feet, sent spiraling across the battlefield. The impact knocked the air from my lungs, and I barely registered the dirt and debris scraping against my skin before coming to a violent stop.
I tried to move—pain flared up my leg. A red status icon blinked in my vision.
"Crippled. Movement is restricted."
...No need to tell me that, system.
I pushed myself up, but my left leg buckled instantly, unable to take my weight. Every shift sent sharp, searing pain up my calf. If that tail had hit just a little higher... I'd be paste.
I clenched my teeth. What the fuck am I doing thinking about that when I'm about to die!?
I snapped my head up. The Broodmother's HP sat at 40%, but it wasn't slowing down. If anything, it looked angrier. It lowered its head, muscles coiling, charging.
A shiver crawled down my spine. I felt the weight of panic settle in my gut.
I might die again...
I don't want to!
I forced my body to move, limping sideways as I fumbled through my Inventory, scanning frantically. Something—anything!
The Broodmother stopped. Its chest expanded and prepared for another fire breath.
My breath hitched. Oh fuck—
Instinct took over. I ripped out the first thing I saw—chunks of limestone from Greenshade Forest in my inventory—and chucked them at its gaping maw.
The rocks barely did any damage, bouncing off its scales—until one plunked straight into its throat.
The drake reared back, ready to exhale—
BOOM!
A small explosion burst inside its mouth. The Broodmother screeched, staggering as its HP plunged to 30%.
Was it... the limestone?
A memory surfaced. Back when I was helping rebuild the city, a laborer tried refining limestone into blocks. He tossed a raw chunk straight into the kiln, treating it like metal.
Boom.
The damn thing cracked apart violently, sending shards flying and scaring the shit out of us.
An old mason had just clicked his tongue and muttered, "Limestone doesn't melt—it breaks down." He explained: heat transforms it into quicklime, releasing gases and building up pressure. But if the rock contains moisture, things get worse. The trapped water rapidly turns to steam, expanding inside until—pop—it shatters.
And the deposit we mined from? It was out in the open, and completely exposed to the rain.
The drake shook its head, then locked eyes with me before charging.
Its body tensed, coiled like a spring, muscles rippling as it prepared to lunge.
I can't dodge. I can't run. My leg was fucked. The system told me I was crippled, but my body already knew.
I swallowed, heart hammering. Is this how I die?
No.
No.
If I'm going out, I'm taking this bastard with me.
My fingers curled tighter around the chunk of limestone, knuckles white with tension. If it was going to rip me apart—
Then I'd blow its fucking insides to hell in return.
I braced myself for the bite—
Until a dark figure rushed into my peripheral vision.
Brynjolf.
Roaring like a viking drunk on rage, he charged, hurling one of his battleaxes into the drake's front leg before cleaving it clean off with the other. Blood sprayed across the grass as the beast cried, its HP plummeting to 10%.
Its mouth gaped wide, flames flickering in its throat—one last, desperate attack.
But its maw was angled too high, out of reach. If I missed this shot, we were finished. I needed something—anything—to knock its head down.
"I got you, boss."
My ox mount barreled forward, chin tucked, and slammed into the drake's side with bone-rattling force. The beast lurched, its head snapping downward—right into my line of fire.
I locked onto the inferno swirling past its teeth. This was it—my only chance.
With a roar, I hurled the limestone straight into its furnace of a mouth.
BOOM!
The rock blocked the fire—pressure surged—until the heat finally detonated. A chain reaction erupted inside its throat, sending an explosion bursting outward. The drake let out one last, guttural shriek before crashing to the ground with a heavy THUD, just a few feet away. Smoke curled from its nostrils.
It was dead.
Brynjolf and I collapsed onto the grass, gasping for breath. Our bodies refused to move, still thrumming with adrenaline. Despite the pain, the battle had been exhilarating.
I turned my head to look at him, managing a weak fist bump. He bumped it right back.
As my mind started drifting, I felt my compass vibrate in my pocket and I noticed an icon blinking at the bottom right of my vision. I tapped it.
"Level 9!" Along with minor stat boosts, it seems like the "Training" menu has been unlocked. I'll experiment with all that stuff later.
I force myself to sit up despite the aches in my body. My leg was still banged up from the impact. Shit, does that mean I have to go to the doctor now? How's Brynjolf doing?
Brynjolf whistled, calling his great white wolf mount to him. The wolf sat on its stomach, allowing Brynjolf to reach something from his saddle pack. It was some sort of weird cream.
"What's that, brother?", I asked.
"Troll ointment.", Brynjolf said before gritting his teeth as he applies it to his burnt torso. I inspected him with my appraisal skill, and I saw his HP going up rapidly, and the burn marks dissipating from the ointment. Is that a healing skill? That's so handy! Why don't I have one?
The fisherman and his son ran up to us, with the fisherman apologizing profusely for his son's recklessness. While sitting down, I told them that we're both fine and just need some time to rest.
"...Also, do you have some spare cloth I can use?"
The fisherman then returned shortly with torn rags. So be it if I don't have a heal skill, I know how to patch my own wounds.
I ran my fingers over the joint, checking for fractures. Nothing felt out of place, but the swelling meant I needed compression—fast. Tearing a strip from the rag, I wrapped my foot tight, starting from the arch and working my way up in a figure-eight pattern. Stabilize, but don't cut circulation. After looping it around my calf, I tied it off and flexed my foot, testing. It was stiff, but bearable.
I stood up and I was able to walk fine moments after that. The crippled debuff disappeared... huh. What came next shocked me.
A message from the system popped up. "Basic Mending unlocked in Training tab."
I immediately tapped the air to close the message, then muttered "Training" to open the screen in my vision. The tab was filled with empty squares. The other classes have a list of skills to train. Not to mention that this skill only popped up when I discovered it accidentally.
I tapped again, inspecting its description. "Basic Mending. Treat your wounds with bandages. Heals an amount of HP and cures crippled, burning, and bleeding status effects."
"...Huh. Ain't that handy."
"Brother?"
I turned to Brynjolf, then my stomach drops at a realization.
"...You've been touching the air, brother. Is something wrong?", he asks in a curious tone. Crap, did that expose me as a player?
"No. I was counting in my head."
"In your head? My townspeople have to use an abacus to perform arithmetic. You humans are that smart, huh?"
"I'm sure Nords can learn that too, friend."
With our wounds tended to, Brynjolf and I made our way to the fisherman. I double-checked my map—looks like the favor quest was already marked as complete. As a reward, the fisherman handed us a small pouch jingling with three silver coins, along with a little something extra.
"We ain't got much, but this'll serve you well."
He handed each of us a fishing rod made of bamboo. I've never really tried fishing in real life, let alone in-game. Guess it wouldn't hurt to give it a shot tomorrow.
As we were about to leave the shack, we noticed the sky had darkened. The inn was a fair distance away, but with our mounts, we could—
"How 'bout you stay the night? Dinner's on us. We've been savin' some o' our best crawfish just before them centaurs raided." The fisherman grinned, eyes glinting with pride.
I glanced at Brynjolf, who seemed to momentarily salivate at the thought. Can't say I blame him—back home, these things were expensive.
We took him up on the offer and spent the night in his humble home. As we waited, the fisherman surprised us with a seasoned crawfish boil that filled the room with a rich, savory aroma. I inspected the effects—extra strength and stamina. Not bad. I should get this recipe.
Despite Brynjolf barely fitting in the seat, we felt at home. The fisherman shared tales of his greatest catches, Brynjolf countered with stories of his hunts, and I, not wanting to be left out, shared a few MMA fights of my own—disguised as tavern brawls. The fisherman's son listened, wide-eyed with admiration.
After dinner, we settled onto makeshift beds of hide and straw in the spare room. Not exactly luxurious, but after a long day, it felt surprisingly comfortable… or maybe that was just exhaustion speaking.
"I wish you a good night's rest, brother. Good work today," Brynjolf said.
"Thanks. You too, brother."
He turned onto his side and almost immediately drifted into soft snores. Meanwhile, I stared at the ceiling, mind buzzing with plans.
That mining region still needed our help. Maybe clearing it would activate the waypoints near Graywatch, making travel safer. Then there was Ivan—that bastard was still a looming threat. And I was close to level 10… I wondered what my Build tab would unlock.
I exhaled, letting the stray thoughts drift until my consciousness faded into sleep.