The Survivor from Up High

Luckily, Joseph had basically reached the top, quickly pulling himself up that last bit and laid down flat against the half a meter thick gate, to conceal himself as much as possible. High above the goblin-like creatures, he felt relatively safe, waiting for the slow-moving wooden gate to near the scaffolding before attempting to slide over to it.

With a notable lack of emotions, he watched as though it was a performance as the people scurried around below him desperate to escape the small agile creatures. At least fifteen of the roughly 50 died before the last survivors managed to flee out of the dungeon like room.

However, he could tell many more are still likely to follow as the small creatures kept flooding through with savage vigour and crude weapons. Leaving the bodies mostly untouched, not even seeming interested the moment they died, the creatures started to change.

At first it was their equipment, slowly getting more variety, then quality then at some point their appearance shifted—they now carried broken or rusted swords, and larger goblin-like leaders lumbered past with heavy steps.

To Joseph it seemed intentional, almost like a video game in real life populating a level of a game. Monsters couldn’t just appear; they instead had to be kept in a certain area then slowly they would filter through to the next area.

Looking down, he made dozens of mental notes all the while making sure to keep his body in check to prevent any sudden movements. As the small, goblin like creatures as he calls them started to thin out a larger one soon appeared.

Towering over 4 meters tall with thick muscles and bulging fat, adorned in crude metal armour with a lengthy chipped greatsword, it carried an air of death and strength.

He waited patient, holding his breath as this lumbering monster marked the end of the green monsters, grateful they were none the wiser to his presence. Just as he relaxed and let himself get a good breath of air, meaty thuds echoed through the room.

Large horns, ragged fur and crude loincloths adorned what could be considered an actual monster. Toweringly huge, with a larger monstrous mouth, tusks pointed and sharp with a beastly nose.

Towering multiple meters tall with thick, dense muscle they grunted like beasts as each firm step ingrained itself into him. His heart pounded against his chest, as he forced himself to stay still, counting each one that passed beneath.

'…twenty-five… Only twenty-five… I’m not sure if I should be sad or glad. Those things are steroid taking nightmare fuel…’ He shivered as he thought of being caught on the ground near one.

Looking down seeing no more movement he let himself move with a bit more freedom checking for anything salvageable.

‘There’s not much left that isn’t pulverized but, I spot a few things: one, possibly two decent swords, a few daggers littering the room, one partly broken bow with what looks like a snapped string, and possibly a staff. The arrows look mostly broken, but hopefully there will be at least some.'

Scouting for short while to make sure there were no more creatures, he carefully planned his route before rushing down. Hearing only his own heartbeat, he scooped up what he could—two swords, four daggers, one repaired bow with a dozen arrows, a shield, and the lone mage staff.

Using scraps of torn clothing, he fashioned a makeshift sack and wrapped as much of the metal weapons in scraps to avoid any clinking noises. He carefully rushed his haul up the door and stored it on the scaffolding.

Having had to split the haul, he repeated the trip until everything useful was collected. By the end, his body was trembling from stress combined with the strain from climbing. Feeling lightheaded, he leaned back, against the wall...

Suddenly sitting up, he found his breathing heavy in panic, realising he had somehow blacked out. Darting his eyes around, he slowly sat up while grimacing and clutching his head.

'Well, this is new. My body’s weak, my head’s fuzzy, and my heart won’t calm down… this is intense.'

After resting, he sorted through his finds and examined the scaffolding more closely, taking each step with extra care unsure of the condition of the wooden boards.

'Not bad. I expected it to be unstable or worn, but it’s actually quite sturdy, possibly enough to hold even one of those monsters. The ropes look fairly strong too, not that I can really test them.'

Deciding his base will be at the start of the scaffolding, he laid down his gathered supplies: around thirty meters of rope, three huge rivets over a meter long, a dozen rivets of varying sizes, and scraps of wooden planks.

Looking dissatisfied he leaned back against the wall. ‘These items are good and all but it doesn’t help in the short term. Basics first—food, water, shelter, strength. Food and water could come from the system as rewards, or maybe from monsters, normal animals, or the dungeon itself if it has water sources.

At the moment though, I can’t rely on anything but myself… the only option I can think of is to hunt… yeah no, or…’

Peering over the edge the crimson-stained floor left him with a harrowing thought. ‘…Not ideal, but survival rarely is.’

Leaning back and distracting his mind, he moved on. ‘As for shelter, I feel good. It’s a bit anxious being all the way up here, but this structure will hopefully hold up. I’m no builder, though, so it’s not like I can properly evaluate it.

Strength is a little harder. Physically, I feel a bit stronger than before—possibly the system making stats real—but it’s not a night and day difference. Against those smaller goblin like creatures, I think I could hold my own with a sword or something.

Against anything bigger? Forget it. The bow’s draw weight is barely thirty pounds—good enough for practice or small rodents, not thick hide let alone armour. Im also not anywhere near proficient enough for effective sword use, it’s harder to use than it seems.’

Eying the sword, he sighed having previously swung it around for some practice. ‘As for magic… maybe. I’ve got the staff and three points, but no clue how it works here. There are too many possible methods. The only option is trial and error, but that will take time.'

…

A while later he sighed in exhaustion, leaning back against the wall. Crossing his legs, he set the magic staff down beside him and rubbed his forehead, licking his lips irritably where flakes of dried blood remained.

'Well, magic seems like a no-show. I’ve tried so many methods—meditation, imagination, control, spell-casting—nothing. I gave each at least thirty minutes, plus a few variants, but felt absolutely nothing. No energy, no spells, no skills, no… magic. *Sigh*.'

He pulled up his empty status board and stared at it.

'Maybe it’s skill- or class-based. Must be. Either that, or it requires dedication far beyond what’s reasonable at the moment.'

Looking discouraged, he rested a while longer, steadying his breathing. Eventually he stood, his nerves coiled tightly, feeling a little suffocated as he moved. Picking up one of the small rivets, he moved to the edge of the scaffolding.

Lying down, he secured a rope to the rivet. His heartbeat thundered in his ears as he pushed it off the edge.