Chapter 11 - ...but luck is better

*whir*

*snap*

Silently another Avankh went down in complete darkness. A dagger swung down only seconds later, penetrating deep into the torso of the beast. The only thing that could be heard was a silent yelp followed by a few last rattled breaths; then it turned silent again.

[You have killed a 'Horned Avankh' (Level 7). Additional experience is being awarded for killing an enemy above your level.]

[You have reached level 6. 6 status points are available for allocation.]

Cantorn smiled slightly as he read the notifications. This had been the fourth Horned Avankh he killed tonight. Throughout the whole process, he had gained three levels, the most recent one coming from this kill. As expected, the bolas played a large role in this success. The little shits that had almost cost him his life yesterday now dropped down like flies as soon as they got hit. Once the bolas wrapped around two or more of their legs they were basically defenceless, only waiting for him to kill them. Something he gladly did.

What was more was that even if he didn't hit them properly he usually managed to at least break a leg, just because of the sheer speed that the stones at the end of the rope impacted them with. This had happened twice already, and while one Avankh was still struggling enough to leave a small scratch on his arm, it was far from a real fight. 

Apropos scratches, the small cut Cantorn had made on his leg to test his regenerative capabilities had only taken around three hours to heal, proving his assumption of being a lot stronger. Sure, the cut had been rather shallow and was far from a truly threatening wound, but it was one of those injuries he'd probably get on the daily. Knowing just how long he should rest after sustaining one of those was valuable information, especially when he was planning to go hunting again.

After gaining that last level up, the little dark elf decided to now distribute his newly earned status points. The limp bodies of four beasts draped over his shoulders, all but one of a higher level than him, he began moving back to his home. While he certainly could decide how to distribute his stats on the spot, he wanted to do that in a safe place where he could think about it for a little. 

Arriving just a quarter of an hour later, he immediately dropped the corpses he carried. These things were heavier than one expected, although they barely reached his knees. Checking for any useful materials, he decided to later turn their skin into some form of protective gear, probably bracers of sorts. The teeth could be used for makeshift needles but were otherwise useless, and their horns were just too spiral to be of any use to him. As for the most important part of their bodies, their meat, he would it after the night, just to not be forced to hunt with a full belly.

Opening his status window he immediately knew that increasing stamina was nice, but not as important as he thought it to be, at least with his current style of hunting. Agility was a stat that was still relevant, just in case something went wrong. Perception fell in the same category, with the added benefit of aiding him in spotting good prey.

As for the other stats, he wasn't really sure. Intelligence was out of the question, however only because he did not have any relevant mana-consuming skills yet. Some resistance would be nice, as well as a small increase to his vitality, simply making sure he was on the safe side. Now, what really tempted him was increasing his strength. Having lived most of his life as a scrawny outsider he felt like it was finally time to shed that image of his. He also knew, however, that this was not of utmost importance and more of an irrational decision, something fueled by his deepest desires. And succumbing to one's desires was not something that brought people forward, it much rather held them back.

In the end, his status screen looked like this:

Finally, he still decided to put a few points into strength. He was just a regular person after all, so no judging, okay? Dexterity was the other unexpected stat, one that he had decided for after a little pondering. It was bound to be useful when throwing his bolas as well as for all the crafting he did, something that was directly tied to his survival. 

Apart from that, everything seemed fairly normal. Right after confirming the distribution of his stats he had been able to literally watch muscle fibers grow under his skin, a sight he really hadn't needed in his life. He also seemed to have grown a little, probably due to his increasingly athletic-looking physique. 

Feeling fitter than ever our, now slightly taller, dark elf went out again. Passing through the gap in the brambles now became easier than ever, not even leaving a single scratch on his slender body. Entering a light jog, Cantorn began moving towards his hunting grounds, the area of denser trees near the lake. He felt pretty good right now. His only hope was getting maybe another level tonight and then he'd settle to-

Cantorn froze up, a feeling of utter terror washing over him. At the back of his mind, he could hear a version of himself screaming to just run. As he quickly scanned the area, he soon identified the source of his fear. A Horned Avankh, bulging with muscle, claws as sharp as knives and two long straight horns atop his head looked at him from the side. And it was eyeing him, that was for sure.

Barely managing to jump out of the way he dodged a sudden attack aimed at him. The beast, easily reaching his hips, immediately turned around to charge again, this time even more focused on him. Cantorn tensed up, preparing to jump out of the way as soon as it made a move. The Avankh on the other hand went into a cowering position, its hind legs getting visibly bigger due to all the muscles it was flexing. For a short moment, everything became still, only the rustling of leaves disturbing the silence.

*boom*

In a sudden burst of movement, the Avankh charged forward, closing the distance in the blink of an eye. Leaping to the side, Cantorn tried his best to avoid the attack. Hitting the ground again, he started to stumble and lost his balance. As he fell, he extended his left arm to catch himself again.

*thump*

He hit the ground. Hard. Suddenly realizing what was up, Cantorn turned his head to take a look at his arm, or rather what was left of it. A disfigured stump greeted his eyes, blood flowing unhindered. Everything below the shoulder was no more, his whole arm completely missing. In a state of pure shock, he focused on the giant Avankh again. Now bloodied all over, the Avankh looked back almost mockingly. Adding to the slightly comical air of the moment was the arm that was dangling off of one of its horns. His arm.

Fumbling around with his dagger, Cantorn knew that he wouldn't get away from this fight without one of them ending up dead. Rolling to the side preemptively, he was able to dodge the next charge of the beast. He managed not to lose a limb this time but was now forced to confront the Avankh in close-quarters combat. In mere seconds the frightening monster attacked over and over again, assaulting him with swings of its horns and even clawing at him. Scratches and deep gashes began to accumulate on the elf's body, draining his vitality and stamina by the minute.

Yet, Cantorn was determined not to go down without a fight. If he were to die here, he would like to at least make it a memorable experience for that damned rodent. Using his lost arm to an advantage, he dodged the lethal strikes narrowly, barely hanging on to his life. However, he used each and every one of those chances to make cuts on the beast's hind legs, trying to slow it down as much as possible. While it seemed to have increased its strength and agility by a fair bit, its stamina and vitality were lackluster. The Avankh had probably won most of its battles in less than a minute, but now that it encountered a smarter enemy it started to struggle.

That was not to say that the dark elf had the upper hand right now. His stamina was dwindling all the more and his vision got blurrier the more he fought. He wasn't sure if that was due to him slowly losing consciousness or because there was a fuck ton of blood streaming into his eyes. Struggling more and more, the cuts he made became shallow, barely penetrating the flesh, and his legs were close to giving in for good.

In a last desperate attempt, Cantorn threw himself at the thing, screaming atop his lungs. His dagger found its way into the right eye of the beast, while the Avankh's horns cut into his torso. His breathing grew shallow and he could feel his legs growing limp, not wanting to move a single step anymore. A young elf stuck to its head, the monster began charging again, aiming straight for one of the tall trees in the vicinity. It was aiming to crush him, a death he wasn't fond of, but one he couldn't evade.

In acceptance of his defeat, Cantorn stopped struggling and calmed himself, readying his mind for his imminent end.

*thump*

With its impaired vision, the Avankh had failed to properly evade everything that was lying around, stumbling over a larger rock on the ground. The hind legs of the beast were too damaged to stop the fall, making it crash onto the ground hard, all while dragging Cantorn with it. Due to the impact, he managed to get himself free from its horns, ripping open his sides even more, but right now, he didn't care for it. 

As he opened his eyes with an immense effort, he was presented with the sight of a muscular throat, fully exposed to him. Drawing upon his last, basically nonexistent, remaining strength, Cantorn slammed his knife deep into the flesh. Blood gushed out, hitting his eyes and blinding him almost fully, but he did not stop. Desperately he slashed, stabbed and ripped at whatever he could find with his remaining arm. Even when the sound of the kill notification appeared did the bloodied elf not end his assault. Relentless he let out all of his anger and fear on the corpse of the being, that had almost cost him his life. 

It had only been two days since his mysterious resurrection, and only two nights during which he had almost died. Twice. Cantorn only stopped after his body gave in. Not being able to move even a single finger he laid down on the ground, bathing in the blood of the corpse atop him.

He had survived once more. This time only through sheer luck, but he had survived. And he would continue doing so.

Ludan

As promised, here's another chapter for this week! Hopefully, I'll be able to push out one more, maybe by Saturday or Sunday.

Anyways, I greatly appreciate everyone commenting, liking or even just reading my story. Thanks a lot!

See you next time!