However, the coins were secondary to the surge of adrenaline I felt as I opened my job list. I had been punching stone-hard carapaces for hours with the singular hope of unlocking a specific role, and the system did not disappoint. A new entry glittered in the translucent blue window.
***
Monk:
- Basic job to use fists to fight and can use basic healing.
- Strength increase (minor)
- Endurance increases (minor)
- Intelligent increases (minor)
- Wisdom increases (minor)
Skill: Healing Touch
- Heal 10 hp of the target
- You should touch the target to activate the skill
- Skill cost = 5 mana
***
I let out a long, controlled breath. This was exactly the piece of the puzzle I had been missing. The Monk job was a goldmine; not only did it provide the physical boosts I needed for frontline combat, but it was also my first foray into the mental stats. The minor increases to Intelligence and Wisdom were the hallmarks of a true hybrid class. It was essentially a combat-medic role, and its acquisition felt far too easy for how much utility it offered.
I immediately looked into equipping it. My "Extra Job" skill was currently at Level 4, which allowed for five simultaneous jobs but consumed sixteen points. To add a sixth job, I would need to push the skill to Level 5, which would double the cost to thirty-two points. I looked at my current lineup and realized that the Villager job, while sentimental and a prerequisite for many things, wasn't doing me any favors in the heat of a dungeon crawl. I decided to bench it. I could always level it up to fifty later when I was safely grinding lower floors, but for now, the Monk's "Healing Touch" was a far higher priority.
I was itching to test the new skill, but I didn't want to squander my mana on a whim. I drew my steel sword and carefully pressed the edge against the palm of my left hand, drawing a thin, stinging line of crimson. I checked my Player Window; my health had dipped by three points. I centered my thoughts, focused on the warmth of my mana pool, and placed my hand over the cut.
“Healing Touch,” I whispered.
A soft, golden glow emanated from my palm, accompanied by a soothing, tingly sensation. When I pulled my hand away, the skin was knit perfectly back together, leaving not even a faint scar. My health was back to maximum, and my mana reserve had decreased by exactly five points. A sense of pure, unadulterated joy washed over me. This world was incredible. I found myself thanking that mysterious voice once again for the chance to live this fantasy.
With my new safety net firmly in place, I resumed my advance. The seventh floor was proving to be a slog in terms of geography—the corridors were wider and the distances between intersections were stretching—but the combat had become a series of tactical puzzles rather than life-or-death struggles. Now that I had the Monk job secured, I didn't feel the need to punch everything. I switched back to my sword, though I maintained a more versatile approach.
I observed other parties as I moved, noting how they handled the Earth Turtles. The less experienced groups tried to brute-force their way through the shells, which looked exhausting and resulted in a lot of blunted weapons. The more veteran parties, however, utilized specialized roles. I saw a group where a massive vanguard held the turtle’s attention with a heavy shield while a support member used a buffing skill to increase the party's movement speed.
The most effective strategy I witnessed involved "overturning." It required a coordinated effort to flip the tortoise onto its back, exposing the soft leathery belly and the vulnerable neck. Once the creature was inverted, it was essentially a sitting duck.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
I began to incorporate these observations into my own style. Sometimes I would time a strike perfectly when the turtle lunged its head out to bite, piercing the flesh directly. Other times, I would use my increased Strength to bash a hole in the carapace before delivering a finishing blow. But most often, I simply used my shield to gain leverage, flipping the one-meter beasts onto their shells and poking my sword into their soft underbellies.
The wolves on the sixth floor had been a coordination nightmare, but these turtles were so slow that even when they appeared in pairs, I could finish one off before the second had even managed to crawl into striking range. I moved with a cold efficiency, clearing forty monsters as I navigated the pale green corridors toward the heart of the floor.
"If all monsters act together on the tenth floor, it will be tougher," I mused, keeping my guard high.
Eventually, the massive black doors of the boss chamber loomed ahead. Two groups were already in line. Both featured brawny, armored men who looked like the quintessential "tanks" of this world. One carried a tower shield that looked like a slab of iron, while the other wore heavy, reinforced gauntlets. It was a fascinating showdown of methodologies.
The "overturn" group—the ones with the gauntlet-wearing brawny man—entered first. They were in and out in less than ten minutes. The doors flared and then dimmed almost immediately. The second group, led by the shield-bearer, took much longer. I waited fifteen, then twenty minutes before they finally emerged, looking much more fatigued than the first group. It was a clear victory for the leverage-based strategy. I decided right then that I would stick to the overturn method for my own encounter.
I stepped through the doors as they reset, and the chamber sealed itself. In the center of the room, a massive silhouette began to thicken. This Earth Turtle was a behemoth—one point five meters in every dimension. It looked like a living, breathing half-sphere of dark brown stone.
***
Race: Earth Turtle
Sex: None
Status: Normal
Level 7 Floor Boss
***
The boss radiated a much more intimidating aura than its smaller cousins, but its fundamental nature remained the same. It didn't wait to discern my intent; it launched into a slow, grinding charge. I didn't reach for my sword. Instead, I dashed forward, dropped my center of gravity, and gripped the jagged edge of its carapace.
“Use your legs, not your back! Use your legs, not your back!” I roared, the mantra helping me focus my Strength stat into a singular explosive effort.
The boss was more than three times heavier than a standard turtle, and for a moment, I thought I might have overreached. My muscles screamed as I strained against its massive bulk. Slowly, inch by agonizing inch, the front of the shell began to lift. The creature hissed, its thick legs fluttering in a desperate attempt to find purchase on the stone floor. I could see the pale, vulnerable underbelly now, but I knew that if I let go, the impact of its fall would likely daze me.
I needed to commit. I straightened my posture with a sudden, violent heave, pushing upward with everything I had. The boss didn't flip entirely; instead, it landed on its side, balanced precariously like a coin standing upright. It was a bizarre, motionless pose that left its entire underside exposed to the dim green light of the room.
I didn't waste a heartbeat. I drew my steel sword and drove it into the soft tissue of its abdomen. I had expected the boss’s flesh to be as frail as the regular turtles, but the blade met significant resistance. Even without a shell, its muscles were dense. I had to apply extra force, twisting the blade to widen the wound. Crimson blood erupted from the gash, quickly forming a dark puddle on the floor.
The boss tried to struggle, its head squirming and its legs kicking at the air, but it had no leverage. I was relentless. I targeted the neck and the joints of its legs, carving through the leathery skin until the creature’s movements slowed to a sluggish crawl. The floor was now slick with gore.
I delivered the final blow, plunging my sword deep into the center of its chest. The turtle convulsed, a final pathetic sound escaping its throat, and then it began to dissolve.
The reward was substantial: two silver and eighty copper Obscura coins. I did a quick mental tally of my earnings for the floor. Between the forty regular turtles and the boss, I had collected 1,120 copper. To save on weight, I utilized the coin-merging trick I had learned, resulting in a total haul of thirteen silver and forty-five copper for my morning's work.
The depth of the floor was clearly translating into a significant increase in income. I hadn't even reached the middle of the day yet, though I knew the eighth floor would likely be even more demanding. I felt a pang of hunger and decided it was the perfect time for a break. I pulled out the rations I had bought from Stephen, ate until I was satisfied, and washed it down with a long, refreshing pull from my water bottle.
Before leaving the boss room, I took a moment to manage my points. I had dumped almost everything into Strength to handle the boss's weight, leaving my other stats at a dangerous average. I accessed the Player Window once more, redistributing the points to a more balanced combat configuration. I was stronger, I was a healer, and I was ready for whatever the eighth floor had in store for me.
[Edited]