Ch 6

  Matt kicked the first rat that charged him, sending it crashing into another that seemed to be hesitating, weighing its options. That single blow only spurred more rats into action; within a matter of seconds, their numbers had swelled to around fifteen by the time he paused. Still, he flowed seamlessly into another kick, his body moving purely on instinct, never pausing to wonder why a particular move felt so right. He kicked, jumped, spun, and even used a nearby tree to change direction several times. Yet, for every rat he sent tumbling back, another would soon land and charge anew. Although he clutched two rocks in his hands—tools he knew could kill—their use was overridden by an inner warning that urged him not to resort to them.

  As the frantic battle unfolded, Matt felt himself slipping into a rhythmic, almost trance-like pattern, even as minor fatigue began to set in—a fatigue reminiscent of a short, intense sprint where every breath grows heavier. The brief pauses between kicks allowed him to control his breathing, yet the constant threat of death in the event of a misstep pushed him further than he would normally have dared. His memory flashed to the fight during basic training, a recollection that filled him with dread at the thought of sustaining an injury now while he was fighting for his life in the wild.

  Just as he steadied his thoughts, an attack came from above: a rat leaped out of a tree in a surprise assault. Startled, he caught it squarely in the belly with one of his cutting stones. However, this initial victory was quickly countered by the sudden surge of four more rats, their bodies emerging from the branches with alarming speed. Matt's reflexes served him well—he landed clean hits on two of the intruders and narrowly dodged a bite when another clung momentarily to his shoulder. In a desperate, violent spin, he managed to fling the rat off his shoulder, preventing it from ever reaching his neck.

  The brief moment of respite was nothing but an illusion. The rats that had been struck by his cutting tools lay immobile, but there had been no time for celebration as the remaining rats closed in. What followed was a chaotic flurry of kicks and desperate dodges; despite his best efforts, several scratches marred his skin while he narrowly avoided multiple bites. Even though Matt was convinced that the rats were not diseased, the prospect of a bite with no immediate access to medical care filled him with a pressing sense of danger. Once more, he longed for a weapon with some reach, a tool that could keep his enemies at bay. In a final burst of energy, he leaped out just in time to break free of the encirclement, spotting an open path leading back toward the direction of where the women were camped.

  With the pathway clear, he took off without hesitation, driven by the stark realization that he was merely one mistake away from being completely overwhelmed. As he ran, he couldn't help but berate himself for feeling the need to depend on others. Despite knowing that his reliance was justified under the circumstances, it still set a troubling precedent. His plans to strike out on his own—even if it meant occasionally checking in for help—now felt complicated by the undeniable dependence he had been forced to display in the heat of the situation as his survival hung in the balance.

  All these thoughts and more raced through Matt’s mind as he sprinted with a pack of rats scurrying hot on his heels, yet one thought stood out above the rest: how he wished he knew where the goblins were headquartered. He imagined that luring a swarm of rats toward them could incite a chaotic melee that might kill many of the creatures. Still, he pushed this idea aside amid the burning fire in his lungs and the constant need to avoid falling, all while carefully maneuvering through the forest. He kept a sharp eye on the familiar landmarks that would guide him back to the women. Fortunately, he had wandered scarcely a mile, having only sought a brief respite to clear his head, and it took merely eight minutes before he burst into the camp, panting for breath.

  The first thing he noticed was that, despite his absence lasting almost an hour, not everyone was awake yet. The second observation was that the tan-blonde and the three others who were alert had already managed to strip half of a tree’s bark while he had been away. There was no time to worry about making cordage now; he had to summon the little breath he had left to call out a warning.

  “To arms—”

  His attempt was feeble, barely audible even to himself. Had it not been for the cacophony of his heavy breathing and the frantic sound of his footsteps, the others might have remained unaware. Luckily, the tan-blonde immediately responded with a much louder, clear call to arms:

  “We are under attack!”

  It turned out that the staff wielder, Emily, who had slept near him, and one of the sword wielders were still asleep. This meant that only the bow-woman and the axe-wielding tan-blonde could provide immediate assistance, while the other two scrambled to rouse and shield their fallen comrades. Nevertheless, the situation was not as dire as before. Matt spun around to face the swarm of rats—which had somehow swelled into a crowd of over fifty large, ferocious creatures. With a deep, steadying breath, he braced himself and met each charging rat with a swift, powerful kick that sent many flying into their fellow attackers. However, as the rats scattered and diverged to pursue new targets, he had to be cautious, ensuring that his strikes did not inadvertently send rats toward his allies.

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  The battle raged on as Matt focused solely on not becoming a burden, striving tirelessly to keep the majority of the rats at bay. In his frenzied state, he failed to notice that half of the women were swinging their weapons like frightened children, and he barely registered that the tan-blonde was the only one managing to hold her own in close combat. For Matt, the world narrowed to the ten feet surrounding him, and he stayed in constant motion until, after what felt like an eternity, he finally observed that no more rats were moving about. Only then did he allow himself a moment to scan the area, just as a new notification came in.

  Monster killed: Level 4 pack rats.

  Base experience multiplied by four.

  Awarding 57 experience.

  Current experience to next level 216/1000.

  Kick more things and gain more power if you wish to pursue a path of kicking.

  Matt wasn’t sure how he felt about possibly opening the door to more constant kicking, but just as he had dismissed all the other options presented to him, he disregarded that one as well. Instead, he surveyed the group of women around him and smiled. Although more than one was glaring at him in annoyance, none appeared harmed as the tan blonde locked eyes with him and stomped over with determined steps.

  Matt seriously considered bolting, fully aware that what was about to unfold would be incredibly irritating; yet he knew that running would likely land him in yet another messy situation like the one he had just escaped. So, he stood his ground until she was right in front of him, ready to speak.

  “What exactly is your explanation for thinking that herding a swarm of rats back here was a good idea?” she demanded sharply.

  “It was more like my only option,” he replied. “I’m sorry, but kicking them wasn’t working—their numbers kept growing, so I was forced to choose the only logical course available to me. If I’d known where the goblins were, I would’ve led the rats there and let them clash, but armed only with these sharpened stones, I was clearly outmatched.”

  “Then I take it you don’t need persuading to stay, and you won’t be forcing me to cut my hair and get muddy as payment?” she retorted with a raised eyebrow.

  “Let’s not overdo our expectations. For now, I need your group just as much as you need someone with basic skills, but that will change. Eventually, once I’ve taught you all that’s useful, I’ll just be that temperamental guy who stirs up trouble for everyone.”

  “That’s pretty much all of us, if you hadn’t noticed,” interjected Emily as she wandered over from the others. “Eleanor is the only one among us who feels comfortable chatting with random strangers—even if she does come off a bit too authoritative.”

  “I take it you’re Eleanor then?” Matt commented as he glanced toward the tan blonde. “Emily and Eleanor—two ‘E’ names out of six women. What are the odds?”

  “Yes, that is my name. Should I also introduce the rest of the group?” she asked with faux courtesy.

  “No, I’d rather not know both names just yet—though I’m sure I’ll learn the rest in due time. Now, before I get frustrated again, let’s figure out if I’m staying, for how long, and exactly what my role will be while I’m here.”

  "You're staying," declared Eleanor firmly. "At least until we recruit one more, because your last outing confirmed my suspicions. Every time you venture off on your own, you end up getting attacked. The voice said that four is the minimum, so until you can leave with a group of four, all seven of us must stick together."

  "What about the boar?" challenged Matt. "I wasn’t exactly alone then."

  "That single attack occurred only after you were more than 100 feet away from the group, and I believe it was because we were a bit spread out," Eleanor countered. "Even those goblins that nearly killed us were there for you—we just happened upon them."

  "If that's true, wouldn't it make sense for him to dash into the forest and lure enemies our way?" Emily asked thoughtfully. "That way, we could gain experience more easily."

  "Where did you get that idea from?" Matt inquired. "And why am I the one who gets to scout?"

  "Books and games—mostly books, since I read a lot," explained Eleanor. "And as for why you, well, you're probably the fastest among us."

  "All of them are fantasy, I take it," Eleanor observed with a slight smile. "Still, it has its logic, and it’s a role that would make you indispensable once everyone has seen what you can do."

  "So what happens when I lure in a group of humans?" Matt asked, his tone darkening.

  "What?" Eleanor replied, raising an eyebrow.

  "He's worried about the conflict that will follow," Emily stated. "I think we’d rather have it happen sooner than later, as it would mean we’re starting on equal ground—and—"

  "No," Matt interrupted. "If I am risking my life by luring enemies for you all to fight, we’re not hoping for equal ground. We’re aiming to be superior. This whole place is supposed to be filled with loners and society’s rejects, right? I don’t plan on sharing power with an idiot and making my goals even harder to achieve."

  "And just what do you want to do?" pressed Eleanor.

  "I don't want to have to manage more people than necessary. Look, I know I’ll eventually need to connect with a larger group, and that might as well be yours. But if that's going to happen, you need to get them all to agree to level up rapidly for a while."

  "What's 'a while'?" Eleanor asked, intrigued.

  "Until we figure out what it takes for us to reach 'G' or 'F' in our species—whatever it takes," Matt explained with a grim smile.

  "Do you really think we can evolve into something like elves when we rank up?" Emily asked hopefully. "It would be nice if being thrown into this chaos granted us some perks."

  "You've definitely been reading too many fantasy books," Eleanor commented wryly. "Even so, why couldn’t it be possible?"

  "That doesn’t matter right now," stated Matt decisively. "Our focus must be on survival. I’ll begin teaching everyone how to make cordage, and you two can handle getting the others on board with leveling up."

  "Could I at least get your name before I start discussing things with the others?" Eleanor asked.

  "Matt," he replied simply.

  In that moment, as he spoke his name aloud, Matt felt a subtle shift—a faint but to his mind a tangible link forming between him and the six women, binding them together in this precarious quest for survival.