Chapter 387: Unrealized Gains
That Coop had already been pushed to use Inheritance of the Mists was an ominous sign for the future. The Horned Demon was still only the equivalent of a normal enemy, but with it being surrounded by allied Hellhounds, Golems, and Imps, combined with its clearly superior stats, Coop felt he had no choice other than unleashing his ultimate ability. In that sense, the Apparition of the Fated Hero was right to suggest Coop needed to keep growing.
Coop shook his head, disappointed with himself and simultaneously trying to shake off the wave of exhaustion that swept his consciousness before the fight was completely over. The creeping doubt that nipped at the back of his mind was unwelcome, but distracting thoughts were worse. He shifted his grip, lunging forward so that his blade bit at the burning stone skin of a surviving Hellhound, willing himself to leave the weariness behind.
He was increasingly worried that he would reach the limit of his current ability before rising beyond the first few levels of the Ark tower. They were only three levels up, with the ground floor still visible as a mosaic of hexagonal tiles if he peeked over the outer edge of the platforms. There were thousands more levels to go and he had already utilized the most powerful skills he had collected, from Call of the Void, Lucid Dreaming, and now Inheritance of the Mists. He simply didn’t have the time to drag his feet when he had so much more ground to cover, but it was starting to seem impossible to live up to his expectations.
The forces of mana were excessively powerful. He had no idea if he was capable of rising to the occasion against even stronger enemies, especially without the system providing clear numerical values to his status. He was only sure that it was absolutely necessary for him to be strong enough to get to the top, regardless of what stood in between. The only alternative was admitting defeat and letting Earth be successfully tamed by the legacy of the Exiles.
“Not happening.” He muttered through clenched teeth as the Hellhound’s head was severed by a gliding sword strike, mirrored by a pair of phantasms who followed in his wake like physical shadows, reinforcing his temporarily diminished strength with absurd precision, the level of which could only be explained by psychic connection.
Coop wasn’t ready to give up. He was sure he had already earned a few levels worth of experience, but he wasn’t sure what that meant in a practical sense anymore. Yes, he could take down a Hellhound without prolonging the battle, shortening the amount of time it took each time another one challenged him, but was that level of incremental progress good enough?
What had started as an oppressive enemy was much less complicated after just a dozen repetitions. Give him a few thousand more and he’d promise to make them look like Ancient Defenders. Even while experiencing the feedback caused by an excessive possession, he was already comfortable enough to fend them off. Did that actually mean he was stronger and faster than before? He shook his head with skepticism as he faced one of the last surviving Boxing Golems, one that carried a gash that still burned with golden fire, apparently catching just a sliver of damage that was enough to permanently cripple its form.
If only Coop would be highlighted in the shower of heavenly light that represented another level, at least for confirmation of his efforts. He lamented his inability to pull his up status and apply some unallocated attribute points to Mind after defeating the challenging enemies. The mental action was a reward by itself, even though he had grown to do it with barely any thought, often in the middle of battle in order to grasp every possible advantage at all times. Every time he leveled, he added the points to Mind and whenever he stopped to really analyze his status he could sense the tangible growth of his resonance with mana. It was proof that his accumulated power inched forward with every effort he took.
Mana was still present, and all of his accomplishments remained, but without the acknowledgment of his resources, Coop had barely any sense of further improvement. It was like he had been trained to only recognize when his numbers went up, unable to truly appreciate the actual victories. But even without the stats, couldn’t he see that the Hellhounds were getting easier to kill?
He hadn’t been aware as it happened, but the structure of the system was activating some subtle psychological tricks to keep its charges from straying from their designated paths, whether intentionally or not. Without the flashing lights, he could easily overlook regular gains.
Breaking down large tasks into smaller, more achievable parts was always more rewarding. It created opportunities to feel more successful, more often. For someone like Coop, it was always a great motivator for productivity. He wondered how much of that was deliberate and how much the system had inadvertently established such a fulfilling structure. Human psychology might have been an unexpected variable in that sense, which would explain why they so effectively overachieved based on galactic standards.
If he wanted to recreate that feeling, he’d need to come up with his own way to form personal checklists and gauge his progress. Whether that was regular weigh-ins or chasing new PRs in the gym, he would have to work on something. The quests and titles might be missing, but that was all decoration anyway. He could make his own. Defeat 10 Horned Demons had to be next. Someone better prepare him a ‘Demonic’ title.