Arriving on the new floor he very nearly stepped out of the protective circle from what he saw.
An Ent.
More specifically, announced by its name above its head.
[Abyssal Ent — Level 22]
He tried and failed to remember what Ents were known for, drawing a complete blank. He knew they appeared near the Elvenheim breach — better known as the portal to the Fey — but beyond that, nothing. So he looked over its massive body.
It stood ten feet tall and looked like a cross between a humanoid and a tree, its bark pitch black, its hands stretching out into tendrils that swayed from side to side. He swallowed. Facing this thing would not be fun. He stepped out of the circle before it disappeared and, taking a running start, lunged forward, his enhanced Agility carrying him in fast. It swung its wooden hand at him and he ducked, his boosted Intelligence helping him calculate exactly how far he needed to bend.
When he reached its leg he slashed, intending to cut clean through it. Unfortunately he didn't get to.
His sword barely left a scratch, and worse still it bounced back so hard it nearly tore from his grip, burning his palms. Thankfully he had the presence of mind to keep moving, getting back out of its monstrous reach.
He breathed deeply. Right. Now he remembered why Ents were so famous. Their Endurance was ridiculous. Worse still, each time they killed something they absorbed it for a permanent boost.
"Fantastic." He cursed, rushing back in as it lumbered toward him. This time instead of going for the legs he slashed at the hands swinging at him, cutting through the tendrils and watching black sap leak from the stumps as the severed parts dissolved. He dashed between its legs, cutting again — this time gripping the sword with both hands and planting his feet.
He still only breached the outer layer. And worse still, black gas began to leak from the wounds.
He held his breath and dashed back out of its reach. He'd read about the dark element and knew that even breathing it in would make him violently ill.
"Fucking hell." He cursed, but dashed back in, slashing at its hands again. By now it had learned — it immediately kicked with its foot, sending him into a stumbling slide. He got back up and ran. "Welp. Hit and run it is." Sighing, he charged in again.
All in all he estimated it took fifteen minutes to bring it down. The Ent was slow, and he was smart enough to keep his options open. The only wound he suffered was near the end, when its remaining tendrils stabbed through the flesh of his forearm.
His sword finally broke its leg and made it topple before the tendrils could spread further. But one look at his arm told him — if he didn't deal with this quickly, he'd be back on the first floor before he got his class.
"Forget it." He cursed, tearing off his shirt and wrapping it around his arm to staunch the bleeding. Then, with a pointed look at the fallen Ent, he stuffed one end of the shirt into his mouth. "You're not sending me back before I get that class." He growled around it, and with a great deal of effort, swung down and severed his own hand at the wrist.
A scream tore from his throat, but he was used to pain. He breathed heavily, standing back up and testing the movement of his remaining arm.
Then he rushed forward and drove his sword into the Ent's eye.
With a wet squelch, he felt the blade skewer through to its brain. He breathed deeply as the notification finally arrived.
You have earned 93,600 XP by defeating an enemy with a significantly higher level than yourself.
[Horace Smith, Level 10, Class Selection Available]
Experience: 91,700 / 102,400
Strength: 18
Agility: 17.5
Endurance: 15
Intelligence: 15
Perception: 10
Unallocated Points Remaining: 5
Unique Skill: Time Dragon's Blessing
Upon death, regress to the earliest possible time in the realm the blessed one occupied at the moment of death, retaining 50% of stats and non-unique skills while keeping other benefits such as proficiencies.
Proficiencies
Bastard Sword [Minor]
He pressed the class selection and sat down in the middle of the room as the Ent dissolved around him.
What opened was, mildly, surprising.
[Class Selection]
[SWORDSMAN]
[BERSERKER]
[ELDRITCH WARRIOR]
Horace took a deep breath and scanned the choices. He knew that how you had distributed your stats played a large role in the classes offered. He also knew that keeping them semi-balanced opened up more possibilities. The downside was that on regression he would only keep half his non-unique skills.
But that was a problem for later. He looked down at the options. Swordsman was a simple, to-the-point class — the only simpler one was Warrior, which you received if you lacked any proficiency. Swordsman's whole premise was becoming one with your sword, and at higher levels the ability to manifest Sword Qi or, in rarer cases, Aura.
Berserker on the other hand was a balancing act. Its entire premise was to absorb punishment and hit back harder, using pain as fuel. He knew its primary skill, Rage, was famous — it reduced damage taken and amplified striking power, but at the cost of a great deal of reason.
Eldritch Warrior was the outlier. Commonly referred to as a combo class, it allowed one to use both magic and weapons, though it made reaching high levels in either considerably harder. However, from what he remembered, its passive skill was renowned across the board — and right now he really needed it.
He clicked Eldritch Warrior, feeling his mind clear as his consciousness became aware of Mana and its properties. He didn't linger on it long before pushing the mana into his sword, watching the blade literally burst into flame. Gritting his teeth around the balled-up shirt, he pressed the burning blade against the stump of his left arm. He suppressed a scream as the blood burned away, along with everything else.
Only then did he open his status.