Lair by Carl Stubblefield (recommended reading TXT) 📕

both hands. There would be no fleeing this thing when it finally stopped toying with him and attacked. Gus began feinting with the spear, trying to keep it back and at bay. The glowing eyes just stared at him with indifference. Gus managed to ease his way off the irregular basalt column steps onto the sand of the beach. He wouldn’t have a chance if he didn’t have any decent footing.

They circled each other and Gus was grateful for his perception filters. He would be unable to see where the monster was if he had to rely solely on the intermittent lightning flashes. Almost without realizing it, the creature had maneuvered Gus away from the cave opening and began advancing toward him. Gus realized that the roiling waves were his only escape.

With lightning speed, the creature leaped and bit hard on Gus’ arm. He felt the bamboo vambrace compress tightly, but no punctures. He still lost 10 HP and his arm began to lose circulation, so powerful was the compression. Gus choked up on the spear and tried to stab with the unwieldy weapon. He thought he got a couple hits in, but many scraped against something hard as he tried to hit his enemy.

At last, one jab punctured something. The mysterious beast flung Gus to the side and the creature retreated. His back crashed against a rock and he lost 89 HP, and incurred a bleeding debuff that was slowly draining his remaining health 2 HP every three seconds.

Razorback Prime was flung off into the dark in the fracas, lost to the night.

He could hear the clinking of metal and woozily looked up at the creature clinging to the scaffolding of the tower. A flash of light revealed its insectoid silhouette, backlit against the darkness.

The chirruping became a higher-pitched frenetic sound. Gus gnawed on his lip as he looked back at the dark jungle. I hope it’s not calling its friends. In the second his gaze was averted, a searing heat and a massive *BOOM* exploded behind Gus. He was thrown forward with such force that the rain-soaked sand felt like a brick as his face was slammed into it.

Groggy, like he had been punched, he tried to rise up to his knees, but it was too much; he succumbed to the darkness.

When he awoke, he pulled his face up from the wet sand and spit out salty grit. It was day again, and the storm had passed. Swiping his eyes clear, he saw the blue window again.

I have a countdown already; I don’t need these doomsday warnings every morning. During his time unconscious, he had regained the majority of his HP, but he still felt bruised.

The tower had gone, but Gus could see a manhole-sized metal door embedded in rock on the beach. There was no sign of his attacker. He shouldn’t have survived his last confrontation. He shivered again, cold and not a little creeped out at how tenuous life was here. Shake it off Gus, think about what’s next.

He opened and closed his fists, trying to regain circulation and get rid of the tingling numbness, and walked to the manhole. A similar picture of the tower scaffolding was on the metal door, with a lightning bolt crashing into the top. Whatever that was must have been crisped like a bug zapper. Good. Still, he wished he could see a burned corpse to calm his nerves. A confirmation that the thing was really dead. He wondered if its body was encrusted on the lightning rod now hiding under the ground.

Brushing away more sand from his face and hair, he sat on the manhole cover and looked back at the cave. It was too cold to make a permanent shelter. Plus he could be trapped inside if another creature came. He would have to give the big building another try. His stomach growled and Gus remembered he had left the visor cooking on the fire. The crab!

He scuttled back into the cave and the scent of something burned confirmed his suspicions before he got to the fire. All of the water had boiled away and the crabs on the bottom had been ruined, charred beyond salvage. Gus fished a couple crabs out of the top and managed to salvage some of them for food. The flavor was marred by the burnt ones, but he was able to pick a little meat from the small crabs.

He still felt cold, and took his meal out of the cave to eat. He sighed as the sun shone on his damp skin. Evaluating the visor, he was uncertain if it was salvageable. Nevertheless, he scooped up some seawater, and put it back inside the cave opening. It would need a good soak if he was to attempt to remove the burnt remains.

That done, he got moving, heading back toward the only semblance of civilization. He would have to eventually deal with the shield if he wanted to get off the island. Avoiding it would only prolong his stay. He was wasting too much time trying to manage survival when he needed to level. While his instincts told him to play it safe, he knew he had to take some risks or he would die.

Indecision and procrastination; his lifelong vices weren’t just bad habits, they would be deadly. He resolved to visit the manor and confront whomever was inside, and hope they didn’t attack him outright.

He thought about his near-death fight and wondered about luck. He had never felt lucky before the island, but the coincidences were stacking up. Gus retrieved his backpack and found Razorback Prime lying nearby.

“Nick, all these coincidences are a bit suspicious to me. How does the luck stat work?” He began walking back toward the hotel-like building. Maybe his luck would hold out and he could join whomever was there. He had to make it in one way or another.

“Luck is one of the least valued stats, because it does not give a concrete, measurable effect when raised.