“Oy, this is a pickle. I think I’ll get back to that pleasant room where you were running shouting, ‘it’s in my hair! In my hair!’ and take a nap. Let me know when you’re finished here.” Ingrid said.

“Enough!” Horn shouted, “I have enough of your crap! You’re useless and obnoxious, so stay where you are and shut the fuck up, unless you have something constructive to add!”

The outburst took Ingrid by surprise. For the first time since she appeared, she was speechless. Horn saw emotions flickering over her face, anger, embarrassment, and then surprise, which quickly turned into worry. She raised her hand, pointing behind him, “Watch out!” she gasped,

“Don’t give me this bullshit, you think you can distract me?!” Horn kept shouting, but the look on Ingrid’s face didn’t change, then he realized something. They were standing in the door leading to a room with hundreds of aggressive vermin, and he just started shouting. “Oh, shit.”

Taking a peek behind, he saw a sward running towards them, at least three nests rallied up, and few hundred rats were closing quickly. There was only one course of action left, “RUN!”

Squeaking followed them in the mad run through the rooms. Neither Horn nor Ingrid turned their heads in their dash, but then the corridors ended. They were back at the beginning in the first room, and the sound of claws scratching the stone still followed.

Gasping for a breath, Horn said, “Time to dance,”

“What are you talking about? You completely lost it, you – you maggot!” Ingrid hissed.

“It’s just a metaphor, you old hag. We make our stand here. Get behind me, and use the damn poker.”

“Younglings, no respect.” She replied, spitting a glob of phlegm.

A few seconds passed, and rats appeared in the distance. Something wasn’t right, and it took a moment for Horn to understand what - due to their mad run, the swarm spread out, the biggest of the vermin took the lead while smaller and more numerous kindred lagged behind. They might have a chance. But all other thoughts quickly escaped his head as the hacking and slashing began.

The first few minutes came easy. They stacked in a thin corridor and just dispatched singles and duos that came at them. The floor became wet with viscera and the passage even more crowded as dead rats began stacking on each other. However, then stamina kicked in, every swing every step took a minuscule out of Horn’s bar, the lower it became, the harder it was to swing his axe, and the rats just kept coming.

He swung automatically, trying to find a solution to their predicament. They were killing like crazy. Ingrid had long forgotten her ‘not a fighter’ routine. Pitchfork flashing from sides impaling rat after rat and swinging them behind them. She even began whistling some lively tune under her breath.

Horn thought, but nothing came up. He scored a few hundred of the Essence, but leveling up didn’t magically refill his stamina. Increased attributes might help, but the moment of his body adjusting to changes would cost him his life. Potions he had with him were already empty, and two dozens of them were left behind in the chest next to the main chamber. He came up blank. He didn't have a plan for the first time in his gaming history, which frustrated him. He channeled his anger in the next swing, splitting a feet-long rat in half, but it didn’t help. So he vented, “Any great ideas, auntie or are you only good for shoveling manure?”

Instead of replying, Ingrid just snorted, and the pitchfork stopped appearing at his sides. For a moment, he thought she abandoned him, but then a notification popped up.

Ingrid Sharptong wants to use 2500 clan’s Essence, allow it? Yes / No

“Two and half thousand?! Are you crazy, woman?” Horn exclaimed, but taking one look at the corridor in front of him, which was still packed full, made his decision. The big ones were dead, but there was still a sea of smaller vermin. “It better be worth it,” he said, accepting the prompt and kept at hacking, his stamina down to last digits and his health not far behind. Only the wall of corpses saved them from being already overrun.

Horn kept squashing the rats, but more and more of the little buggers got through, his ankles were already almost stripped bare of any flesh, but he just kept fighting as a man possessed. A few rats died as he plumed them to paste, but he was done for. Finally, one of the rats dug into his Achilles tendon, and the leg gave up. He fell face-first into the gory mess. He heard a long deep grunt from behind, followed by what could swear was a sound of hoofs hitting. A second later, Ingrid’s voice followed, “Thumper, Snouty, go get them!”

A moment later, two things ran past Horn, with blood all over his eyes, he couldn’t identify the new monsters, but they just plummeted through the dead and living rats, squashing everything on their path. The corridor, a second before a battlefield, turned silent. Slumping against a wall, Horn focused on casting Cure wounds with his last bits of strength. The spell worked, and his wounds began closing down.

However, this slight relief brought back the pain. With adrenaline dropping down and him taking a step back from the gates of death, he started feeling it. His whole body ached. Finally, he realized why end by a thousand cuts was so horrible. He almost experienced it. What kind of a sick game was it? It was supposed to be fun, not hurting like a bitch. What the hell was that? Why would one allow yourself to be so harmed? Every bite, every scratch was painful. It probably wasn’t exactly the same level of pain as in the real world, but still – it sucked.

On the other hand, Horn never felt so alive. Subconsciously he knew, nothing terrible could happen, he would just die and respawn, but the pain made it feel real. The danger, the pain made it so much more real. It was both horrible and amazing at the same time!

He felt split between two feelings, but in the end, he was here to win this damn game and make a ton of money out of it. Truth be told, so far, he loved every second of it. Even his damn companion. This made him think how real that NPC felt. With quirks and snappy comments, it was like bickering with one of his few friends. In the thick of the action, he didn’t pay much attention to it. However, if all NPC acted like that – well, that would make this game a hit on its own. Deep in his thought, he didn’t hear hoofs approaching.

“What are you smiling about, pumpkin? Lazing your arse when woman do your work?” Ingrid said.

Horn raised his eyes and saw her. She was riding a massive boar, the beast had to weigh at least half a ton, and every piece of it told him to run. It was the father of all boars. Blood splattered over its brown fur only added a terrifying effect, and a dead rat stuck on one of the almost-foot-long tusks reinforced the macabre. On top of him rode Ingrid, like it was the most common thing in the world, but her look stopped resembling a snarky farmer. Instead, she looked like a Valkyrie, with her hair spread behind her, bits and pieces of gore splattered on her face, and the pitchfork still dripping blood.

Behind her, another boar came up trotting cheerily, this one with silvery fur something he never saw in the real world. It was just a tiny bit smaller, maybe six-seven inches, and with more delicate tusks, and probably either much younger or more savage as it took deliberate steps to squish dead vermin happily grunting every time one popped.

“Lost your tongue again, didn’t ya? Typical, younglings and their delusions of grandeur, pfff.” Ingrid continued,

Gathering his wits, Horn replied, “Listen, I was an ass, but you’re not making it any easier. You are an obnoxious old witch. You could have summoned your beasties any time, couldn’t you? Instead, you pushed and pushed until we were almost done. If I don’t defeat the boss guarding the portal, we’re done for, and you’ll be back in limbo. So if you’re looking for an apology, just keep looking. Now let’s take a five, then we have a clan to restore.”

“Ompf…” She gasped, but instead of saying anything, she just poked her boar, and it turned back. Trotting a few dozen yards towards a less messy piece of the corridor.

“Women…” Horn mumbled, only to realize he was pissed at a bloody NPC. This made him chuckle and again consider the details of the game. He was in here only for a few hours, and it felt like the real world.

In the corner of his vision, he saw something flickering, like a small emerald, focusing on it brought in a few prompts.

Your skill: Combat proficiency reached level 2.

Congratulations! For prevailing while outnumbered 100-to-1, you gain a new title: Outnumbered Specialist. Increase damage by 15% while fighting a more numerous enemy. Bonus will apply to your troops if you’re the one commanding them.

Congratulations! For singlehandedly slaying 100 enemies in single combat, you gain a new title: Slayer I. You gain +2 might, mind or reflexes, and +2 endurance.

These were delightful surprises. Horn put the two points into reflexes as he still felt somewhat sluggish in combat. At the start, he thought that ten was an average human score, but he was almost sure he was much slower than in real life. Despite not being the fittest man in the world, he was well enough. If ten in an attribute was a baseline, he’d say that he was somewhere around twenty, twenty-five in real life. Which would make sense, this was a fantasy world, but if everyone could bend steel, it’d be just plain stupid.

Checking his essence, he saw he still had over eight hundred in the bank, and the third level cost only three hundred. He just spent two and half thousand on the boars, so spending more wasn’t on top of his wishlist, but even though they survived the swarm, Horn wasn’t sure if these were all the vermin, and on top of that, the boss was still there. He pushed the essence into his leveling and welcomed the new message.

You’ve reached level 3. You gain: +1 Endurance, +1 Ability, +1 Spirit, +1 Might/Endurance/Presence (choose one within 1 hour or it will be randomly assigned), +1 Free attribute point.

You can learn a single out-of-class skill. [Total free skill slots: 2]

The free point went into the might to keep it in line. For now, Horn was still their frontline fighter, and who heard about a dwarf that couldn’t smack someone to their senses? Finishing his choices, he took a look at his stat sheet, and it was coming up nicely.

Name: Horn Skysmith

Race: High dwarf

Allegiance: Lightforge Clan

Level: 3 (591/400 essence) /0/0

Current class: Adept

Previous classes: -

Health [Regeneration]: 13 / 41 [26/h]

Stamina [Regeneration]: 14 / 40 [25/h]

Mana [Regeneration]: 11/34 [19/h]

Attributes: [0 free points]

Might: 14

Reflex: 12

Mind: 10

Endurance: 19

Spirit: 14

Ability: 14

Presence: 10

Skills [2 free skill slot]: Combat proficiency level 2, Cure Wounds level 1, Radiance blast level 1, Blessed weapons level 1

Traits: Chieftain, Dwarven Endurance, Low Magical affinity, Magical Resistance (Minor), Low light vision1

Titles: Outnumbered specialist, Slayer I

The growth was quick, but the circumstances were quite extreme. For a tutorial, it was a bloodbath. On the other hand, they didn’t hand the access to a casual player but to winners of elite tournaments. Horn wondered how many of ‘colleagues’ already quit seeing the carnage and feeling the pain. A grin came upon his face imagined those sissies. Standing up, he walked towards Ingrid, cleaning her boars, which acted like puppies, even wagging their small tails like crazy.

“He…” Horn started but was interrupted by Ingrid, “Listen, I know I’m not the easiest gal to be around, but you’re also full of shit. So let’s forget it happened and keep going, deal?”

“Yea works for me,” Horn agreed with a smile, “So these are your boars; they were amazing. I no longer doubt your skills.”

“Meet Thumper, my champion. I raised him from a small piglet,” She scratched the enormous beast’s chin, “He’s just such sweety, isn’t he? And there is Snouty, his hog - she’s a rare breed of Darkforest’s boar. It took me three years to track their nesting grounds and get a piglet. But to answer your earlier question. I couldn’t summon them earlier. Only after reaching the fifth level, I got the ability to summon my champion pair, but it was expensive.”

“Wait, a fifth level?” Horn exclaimed but then remembered the bit of text about Champions growing faster.

“Yes, pumpkin, the swarm pushed it there for me,” Ingrid replied,

“Well, I’ll be damned, but back to the beasties. They’re worth every penny and are adorable,” Horn said, just as Thumper took a shit without any care in the world, “and you can ride them, could you maybe teach me? That’ll be useful in the task at hand.”

“Humf, you don’t just ride a warboar. It's an art that you’ll too d -, “ she paused for a moment, fighting with herself, “Fine, we can try. Let’s start, be gentle, and don’t make him bleed too much, Thumper.”

Horn was nodding along until she ended with boar’s name, “Wait, you’re telling that to the boar?”

“Oh yeeess…” She replied with a wicked smile.

Hurt, a world of hurt. Horn never imagined he could have bruises in such places. His whole body hurt. Each inch of it was bruised, thankfully his Cure wounds worked bruises, or he’d be completely purple already. Still, the mana cost was quite huge and his reserve low. Hence he used it only when he couldn’t cope anymore.

It took almost five hours to learn the skill, five hours of being thrown off, prodded, stomped on, and even once eviscerated with a tusk. All while Ingrid was crying out of laughter. However, he finally did it, and on top of that, another message came up, widening his smile.

Congratulations, you’ve learned a skill: Riding (Exotic beasts).

Your skill: Cure wounds reached level 2.

He quickly pulled up descriptions and saw a change in Cure wounds. Then, he checked Combat proficiency leveled earlier and saw an update.

Cure wounds level 2 – 10 mana, 2-second cast, 10 seconds cooldown – Mind / Spirit – Heals basic wounds, heals additional amount equal to base within next 60 seconds. Slightly increase natural health regeneration for 10 minutes.

Combat proficiency level 2 – Passive – Gives a basic proficiency in fighting with all weapon types. Grants basic combat instinct. Slightly decrease stamina expenditure while fighting.

Riding (Exotic beasts) level 1 – Passive – Gives a basic understanding of handling exotic land mounts. The more unique creatures might require a higher level of skill.

Both upgrades were terrific. The first doubled his healing power, and the second covered what he experienced fighting the horde, running out of fumes at least for a little bit longer.

His thoughts were interrupted by Ingrid, “So pumpkin, you managed to learn the skill. I’m frankly quite amazed. Usually, most learn on old boars who don’t have much energy anymore. You rode the champion and lived through the experience. Either he really likes you, or you’re one stubborn dwarf. So what now?”

“Now, my dear Ingrid, it’s time to kill some rats.” He replied with a smile.

--

The two of them rode the war boars into the final chamber. Around half of the nests were empty from their earlier escapade, but there were still hundreds of little vermin remaining and the big bad rat in the middle. They proceed with the plan, charging top speed around the room to attract remaining nests. The boars thundered in the room, hoofs sending sparks as they struck the floor. Soon a flood of vermin followed them, but this time they backed only a few rooms, then turned and charged. Ingrid on the Thumper took the lead, while Horn on Snouty followed a dozen yards behind to get the stragglers. The massive boars didn’t even slow down while squashing small vermin, the corridors turned into a blood bath, and even rats realized they didn’t stand a chance. They tried running from the monstrosities genociding their kind, but Snouty didn’t allow that. She kept chasing them and, with wicked grunts of joy, stomped at each and every one of them. Horn was both terrified and in love with the boar. All the pain that he felt while learning to ride was rewarded tenfold.

The rampage took a while, boars got tired, their movement slowing down, and small bites and scratches accumulated. Horn cast Cure wounds as often as he could, keeping them in shape, but the final cleanup was left to him. Ingrid took the animals a few rooms back while he kept hunting vermin.

Finally, he cornered the last group and proceeded to exterminate them. Each swing of his axe took a life, and when the final rat gave up, a sense of satisfaction ensued. Now only the big baddy was left, but the plan was to rest before taking care of him.

Horn began walking towards Ingrid. When he heard a painful hiss from behind, turning, he saw the albino. It was rearing on its back paws, its head snapping between piles of its dead kindreds. Its eyes, already red, turned burning crimson, and then it saw Horn. The fury crystalized, and the rat charged with a single purpose – to kill the one that hurt its family.