Stumbling Up: A Loser's Guide to Progression - Chapter 17: Five Points Per [Florist]

Runes began to glow on the top jaw of the dungeon. Energy gathered above our heads, whirling into a portal. I could see Leo, or rather his body in the void, falling towards us. A gruesome injury cut across his face and torso, splitting him almost in two.

His flesh and sinew knit together as he got closer to us, until he fell through the portal, smacking into the floor with a wet plop.

Leo bounced up to his full six-foot, bearded lumberjack self. Eyes wild, he crouched as though expecting an attack.

"Cole, wait,” Tandy said in a quiet warning, pulling me up short as I stepped towards Leo.

Examining Leo, I understood, seeing his white knuckles glued to the shaft of his enchanted axe. He was still living the nightmare of his death.

I put my hands out wide, looking as nonthreatening as possible.

"Leo, it's us. You're safe. You died, but we get three chances, remember?" I kept my voice calm and level, as I felt his panic through our [Partial Rapport].

Tandy stood nervously but said, "It's us, Leo. Cole and Tandy, you're okay."

His red rimmed eyes locked on mine. I shivered. I'd never seen my friend so freaked out. The [Enchanted Axe of Singing] slowly lowered to the ground and slipped from his fingers as humanity returned to his eyes.

He brought his hands to his face, probing the unbroken skin, searching for the ghost of the life-ending tear across his body.

I looked back at Tandy for reassurance, but she looked as out of depth as I felt.

"I'm whole?" Leo’s words were tiny, broken. They were harsh in the normal jovial tone of my friend.

I nodded, "Yes, you're fine. We're here. Three chances, remember? Tandy, want to get some water?"

Leo let out an ugly sob of relief. Dreams of adventure never included the nasty feeling of choking on monster bile as it ate your skin, or being ripped in half by the gods know what.

I stepped forward, wrapping him in a hug, "We've got you." Tandy joined in, adding her warmth.

Three-fifths of [Your Mom’s Party] hugged it out. I’m sure we were an odd sight, a huddle in the mouth of a Leviathan. Clinging to sanity through the comfort of a familiar bond.

Eventually, we grew self-conscious. We were [Adventurers] now, and group hugs weren’t sexy. Imagine if Richard caught us?

Tandy held out a canteen for Leo, asking the question we’d been avoiding, "You want to tell us what happened?”

“Are we safe here?” Leo eyed the neat rows of teeth.

“As long as you don’t try to perform dental surgery.” He gave me a hard stare. I rushed to assure him, “We’re as safe as we can be in a dungeon. No sign of any root canals.”

He took a long, slow sip from the canteen, as though stalling his words, “I jumped into the soup, but I was too late.” His voice caught. I sympathized. When I saw Tandy’s prone body, I thought my heart had been ripped out. “I lost it, all I could see was red. It didn’t take long for Meredeath and me to finish the ribbons of hunger.”

It sounded like some berserker skill.

“The room slowly drained, revealing another chute, except it was clenched shut. I wanted to come back here and find the two of you, but Meredeath convinced me that pushing on was better. Any knowledge of the next zone would benefit our next attempt.”

I couldn’t argue with the logic, but I wasn’t sure I would have reached the same conclusion. Meredeath was oddly experienced for a [Provisional Adventurer].

Leo's voice shook as he continued, "Richard tickled the chute open, don't ask. He sat on Meredeath’s shoulders as we traveled through a never-ending intestine filled with parasitic traps. Long tendrils waved from the walls, attracted to sound. If they found you, tentacles popped out of the walls that shredded skin. We moved slowly, step by step, squeezing by tendrils, pustules, and tentacles." I could feel the tension in his voice.

“I fucked up.” His eyes sought mine, as though he needed my forgiveness. “I brushed a pustule, and it blew up, filling the air with spores. I immediately started coughing. The tendrils wrapped around me as a wall opened with a giant tentacle. I didn’t even get a chance to defend myself before I got ripped…” in two. My mind finished what he couldn’t.

"Hey, it's okay," I said mechanically. But was it? The image of Leo’s body falling, skull bare, scalp pulled back, his torso shredded, stuck in my heart right next to Tandy’s limp body, blistered and inert.

I found better words: “Next time, we’ll do better. Not die.” He looked up for the first time in his story, a small smile cracking his face.

“Not die, right. Why didn’t I think of that?” Leo’s smile had turned into a chuckle. Tandy looked at us like we were lunatics.

Tandy handed us both a wrapped sandwich from her pack. She’d thought of everything. It was a peanut spread with crusted berries. The sweet and tart were a welcome distraction from the grossness of the dungeon.

Leo's disposition improved with food. Time helped too, I suspected something about our [Adventurer] class helped blunt the most traumatic events.

I broke the silence of our chewing, “Leo, have you ever wanted a pet? Something like Richard?”

Tandy laughed, “As though there’s anything like Richard.”

Leo shrugged, “Not really. I never wanted a pet. I always thought they were too much work. Plus, they’re always a lower level than yours, so how much help could they be?”

“Richard’s been pretty useful.” He’d saved my life a couple of times now.

“For a [Fanged Banana Slug], he’s incredible,” Tandy’s words dripped with sarcasm.

“You forgot, he’s immortal.” I grinned.

“Allegedly,” Tandy bantered back.

"But what level is he?" Leo asked nonchalantly. Tandy elbowed him, and they shared a look. Whatever that was about.

"It's blocked out. I figured I’ll find out once we lose the provisional part of [Adventurer]."

I sent a mental poke towards Richard. He was either out of range or something prevented longer-distance telepathic communication in the dungeon.

Tandy nodded, “Yeah, probably. If we live long enough. I have the threat profile of a wet kitten."

Finished with lunch, I unhooked my hammer, checking for rust. My fingers traced each indent like they were old friends.

My [Analyze] skill had been working in the background. It didn’t speak in words, but the logic kept threading together. If my hunch about Leo was correct, I’d cracked the puzzle.

“Leo, can you bring up your class interface?”

A shadow passed over his face. "Class interface? I haven't. Never had a class to look at. Let me give it a try." He blinked at the interface, awe temporarily clearing the strain from his face, "Oh wow, there it is! I've got the [Provisional Adventurer] class,” his voice slowed, “and a bunch of… abandoned classes?”

The first part of my theory proved true. Abandoned classes signified a considerable waste of time. Most folks had a couple, but who spent significant time across a wide range of skills?

Leo. Leo had toiled across dozens of professions. I suspected the system could not grant him an actual class, so it simply shunted them into the abandoned category.

"How many abandoned classes?" I asked, trying not to sound excited. This bit of information would prove my theory. I suspected we got credit for classes, whether active or abandoned, and our skills.

The calculation for Leo should be straightforward. He had no skills to confuse the numbers. With 50 health, 90 stamina, and 10 magic, he had 150 points across the categories. If I was right, it meant he had 30 abandoned classes—an inconceivable number.

"Let's see, I've got [Forester], [Chef], [Shepherd], [Florist], [Fixer]..."

"You were a [Florist]?" I asked, curiosity overwhelming the need to solve the mystery.

Leo turned pink. "I-I don't know why it thinks that!" There was obviously a story, but I decided not to press. "I haven't been anything, remember? I'm the no-class guy. It's claiming I've had 30 abandoned classes."

Of course, Leo had thirty abandoned classes. He didn’t know how to stop trying.

I plugged the number into my calculations, and to my utter amazement, they worked.

By the Everbear, I’d solved the puzzle!

"Five points per class," the secret bubbled out of me, as I looked at Tandy. Her fingers jumped as she did the mental math, comparing her numbers.

Her eyes sought mine, “And a point per skill.” I nodded affirmation.

The leaps in logic took us to the next logical conclusion. I spoke the final rule out loud, “Each class and skill stacks towards either health, stamina, or magic.”

She frowned at my statement, “That’d mean most of my [Weaver] skills go against magic? I can’t dispute the evidence, but it doesn’t make sense.”

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” Leo had lost his patience with us. Tandy, thankfully, stepped in to explain. This was reason number 231 why I didn’t want to be the [Party Leader].

Had we stumbled upon a mathematical secret of the system? It was unusual to have so many abandoned classes. Coupling that with the low percentage of the population that became [Adventurers]... it was possible.

What made Leo's life miserable in the mundane world made him epic in the [Adventurer] world. This was a secret worth more than any dungeon treasure.

As though frustrated with our breakthrough, the dungeon convulsed. Thick gobs of saliva hung from the wall. The jaw of the beast slowly closed.

Leo had to crouch significantly to avoid the moist, spit-soaked ceiling of the cavern.

The dungeon’s teeth clenched, then ground together. The floor rippled in distaste.

“What the hell is going on?” Tandy shouted, eyes jumping around looking for the first root canal to break free.

What's up, loser?

Richard’s mental greeting rang in my head.

“It’s Richard!” I pointed at the sudden slack in the anchored rope. Within minutes, an oversized Richard slowly came into view.

He was wrapped in a makeshift harness, slowly pulling something up the beast’s throat.

The dungeon burped, giving us all a stench worthy of its irritation.

A little help, please? Meredeath’s heavier than she looks.