《Dragon Mastery: Daybreak》 Chapter 1 - Sludge Dragon A harvest moon sheds light over a peculiar forest filled with the whitewashed bones of slain treasure hunters. Only the occasional howl of a Feral Worg breaks the sound of a creek rushing over lichen infested rocks. The trees are ancient beasts covered in rough patches of bark, they seem to be bred from the blood of the monsters that inhabit this place. Leaves fall from withered branches, coating a miry forest floor littered with broken twigs and scattered pebbles. An isolated Vampire Snail slides through the cursed wood, leaving a toxic trail of red slime. Surely DreadForest is no place for a lone traveler. But that is what I am. One lone traveler. Walking on an ill-trodden path that weaves past dour willows and brushes up against thorny rose bushes, I glance at my OverWatch. The display shows 156/265 Health Points and 224/265 Magic Points. A run in with a level 168 Feral Worg has me wounded, but I¡¯m close. I can¡¯t turn back. I won¡¯t turn back. I inadvertently step in apatch of slime, sinking up to my shin in green slop. Frustrated that I would fall into such an obvious trap, I rip my foot out of the patch and wipe the slime off on a nearby fern, leaving a thin coat of green goop on the forest foliage. My [Leather Cowl of ShadowGlimpse] enables a slight night vision, so everything looks light gray. The enchantment is not powerful enough to see clearly, but it gives me some idea about where I¡¯m going. I grip the oak handle of my [Iron Scimitar] tightly as the bitter night wind bites into my naked fingers, enveloping my hands in a blunt numbing sensation. Despite my comatose fingers, I¡¯m unwilling to sheathe my sword. A monster could come at any second. And Dread Forest is packed with tough monsters. I suddenly whiff a horrid stench. My heart thuds against my ribcage in a quick flurry. Before I can run, I hear a massive roar and a scaly head smashes me in the stomach, the impact of the blow causing my scimitar to slide out of my hand and flop harmlessly on the ground. I fly backward until my skull smashes against a thick tree trunk. For a moment, I¡¯m dizzy and off-guard, but I stumble to my feet and I raise my fists like a boxer. Before me is a giant mustard-yellow dragon: A level 312 [Sludge Dragon]. Great. The dragon spews toxic slime in my direction. I feign to the right, but slip in a splotch of mud, sliding on my back. I somersault to my feet and form a tight fist. ¡°Wind: TornadoFist!¡± A gust of wind howls over my hand, coating my knuckles in a torrent of air. The sweet rushing sensation of wind magic tingles my fingers. I¡¯m about to kick some dragon ass. The dragon roars right back at me, putrid smell invading my already burning nostrils. My courage wavers for a moment at the thunderous sound.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! But then the buzzing sensation of endorphins creeps into my veins and I wildly charge at the [Sludge Dragon] like a lost berserker. The beast swipes at me with grimy claws, but I swerve right. The jagged claws zoom past my face in what seems like slow motion. With a vicious punch, I slam the Sludge Dragon in the wing with a howling [Tornado Fist]. The dragon is sent spiraling into the woods, shredding trees into splinters and disappearing in a maelstrom of wind and darkness. I rush forward and pick up my fallen [Iron Scimitar]. Fearless, I charge forward--but I¡¯m met by a splash of toxic sludge. The sludge slips between the cracks of my armor, burning my skin. My whole body searing in pain, I flinch. A spiked dragon tail clobbers my chest. I hear my ribs crack and I¡¯m crushed into the swampy ground. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. Moderate Internal bleeding, reports my Overwatch in a female robot voice. Losing two hit points every five minutes until healed. Crumpled in pain, I see the dragon peer down at me, his eyes burning with rage. For a moment, the dragon¡¯s eyes flash with a glimpse of remorse, before morphing into a whirlpool of malice. Desperate, I point my palm towards the beast and yell, ¡°Wind: Surge!¡± A fierce gust of wind engulfs the dragon, throwing him backward. His wings catch the air, sending him into a ludicrous backflip, his oversized dragon frame tumbling through the midnight air in an almost mesmerizing sight. I seize the moment to sheathe my [Iron Scimitar] and run the hell away. My feet are splashing in pools of mucky water. Gradually, my toes start to loose feeling as the water penetrates my boots. Eventually, I can¡¯t feel my feet at all. Shit. My OverWatch alerts me: Stamina at 45 percent. As my Stamina drains, my breaths grow more and more labored. I pause to spit out a mouthful of blood-stained saliva. A feral roar thunders behind me--but I keep running. Dragon acid sears my tender nostrils, making each heavy breath a trip into the shallow realms of pain. Stamina at 25 percent. I run straight through a creek, wading up to my kneecaps. The creek is wide and the water is surprisingly turbulent--I¡¯m slowing way down. I take a moment to glance behind me and I catch the dragon awkwardly loping towards me, his massive claws creating rifts in the forest ground. Darn, he¡¯s close. My palms point towards the water, arms bent at roughly a 45-degree angle. Time for some flight magic. ¡°Wind: Jets!¡± Two streams of wind pour of out of each hand, propelling me out of the stream. I enter an uneasy flight, sustained by a torrent of air emanating from both of my palms. Below me, trees stream by in the semi-darkness. I see the dragon shrink until he is nothing more than a mustard-colored spec in the distance. Before I can think, my spell expires and I¡¯m sent tumbling towards the earth. Air screaming in my ears, I say, ¡°Wind: Jets¡±! But nothing. Not enough magic points. My OverWatch reports. Dammit. I hit something--hard. Branches tear through my armor and I slide off coarse bark before falling into a patch of viscous mud with a sickening splat. Landing skill increased to level 112. Well, shit. I suppose I just got experience in the [Landing] skill from surviving a fall. I suppose that¡¯s one positive of this otherwise totally failed mission. With an audible groan, I carefully sit up and glance at my OverWatch as the light from the unusually bright moon streams through the surrounding forest. 12/265 magic points. I¡¯m down to 24 hit points. I start to limp back towards Ashen Twillenger. I need to get to a healer to fix this internal bleeding--fast. Chapter 2 - The Flying Yoshi After a healer fixes me up, I limp through the empty streets on of Twilleger towards the Flying Yoshi, the town''s only tavern. The black and gray town buildings, constructed from an odd mixture of local granite and chopped willow trees, loom around me as I traverse the cobblestone road, my feet still bereft of all feeling. The road is dimly lit by an occasional decrepit torch. Smoke billows from chimneys as players attempt to keep themselves warm on this dreary night. Most windows are illuminated with the ghostly reflection of a candle or a rusted lantern. For a brief moment of weakness, I look at a common house and feel an intense rush of envy. Man, I want a place to call my own. I can¡¯t help thinking. But I force myself to continue down the street. I enter The Flying Yoshi through oak saloon-style doors and I order a BedRock Porter. The tavern is just warm enough so that I start to feel the odd tickling sensation of feeling coursing through my numb toes. I bring the aged copper flagon to my mouth, taking the first draught of a healthy, if not slightly bitter, ale. The Flying Yoshi is packed with treasure hunters, as always. The bar is well polished and clean, despite the heavy traffic. A granite fireplace sits in the corner, and other than a silver shield that lies over the mantle, the tavern lacks any decoration. Candles brighten a dim atmosphere and ambient chatter lulls in the background. The Flying Yoshi is the only place in Twillenger to get a drink, so it¡¯s usually pretty packed. Of course, Twillenger''s population rose a good bit after the treasure quest was released two years ago. Although, the population has lessened considerably after Dread Forest casualties started to pile up. When I first moved to Gothic Coast, I would usually chat with other hunters about the treasure. But I found conversation with my competitors to be stressful, and they occasionally made me feel inadequate with their higher skills or better gear. Instead, I now generally prefer to grab a drink with the elderly blacksmith, Vork. Today he is on my case, even worse than usual. ¡°Blake, you ran into a Sludge Dragon again? You need to be more careful!¡± Vork slams his copper flagon on the counter. ¡°Are you kidding?¡± I reply. ¡°I can¡¯t afford to be careful! One million gold coins are just sitting there Vork! Sitting there! And I¡¯m going to find it!¡± ¡°Blake, you¡¯ve been here for two months, and nothing!¡± Vork sighs and finishes his ale. He points to all the other treasure hunters at the bar, most of them young adventurers like myself. ¡°And all of these fools are doing the same! I¡¯m telling you, just give it up. It¡¯s too risky. Internal bleeding? How many health points did you have left by the time you got to the healer?¡± ¡°Twelve,¡± I say. ¡°But look at this!¡± I withdraw a carefully marked scroll from my backpack. On top is labeled DreadForest, and the parchment is marked with various symbols of monsters and paths. ¡°See? Look!¡± I point to a small sketch of a Sludge Dragon. ¡°I just can¡¯t go in that direction, else I¡¯ll run into him again!¡± Vork looks at me skeptically. ¡°You know that are probably dozens of Sludge Dragons scattered in DreadForst.¡± ¡°Yeah, but¡­¡± I trail off and stare at my map. I have four Sludge Dragons, twenty-eight Feral Worgs, and well over one hundred Vampire Snails marked. I¡¯m probably still missing the vast majority of monsters. True, my chances of getting the First Clue are slim. So I decide to change the subject. ¡°Have I told you what I¡¯m going to do once I get the treasure?¡± ¡°Yes, you¡¯ve told me one-hundred--¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to get a house by a lake. Not just any lake. You know that region, WonderWood? The region that has perfect weather year round?¡± Vork sighs. ¡°Not again, Blake. I¡¯ve heard this enough.¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. ¡°I¡¯ll have land. Vork, I¡¯m not talking a small lot. No, I¡¯m going to own my own farm, with pigs, and turkeys, and maybe even a goat--¡± ¡°Blake, this isn¡¯t--¡± ¡°And I¡¯ll get up every morning to milk my goat.¡± ¡°What¡¯s with you and this goat? Can¡¯t you just get a cow instead?¡± ¡°Yeah, sure. I¡¯ll have a cow. And a cave. A cave with monsters I can train on in peace! No more wandering the land as a loner, no more getting beat on by Sludge Dragons, no more crashing in shitty inns, or running out of money and camping in the woods. I¡¯ll have the best gear money can buy.¡± I take off my [Leather Cowl of ShadowGlimpse] and show it to Vork. ¡°I¡¯m using the worst night vision gear in the universe! I shouldn¡¯t even go out at night anymore.¡± I concede. ¡°It can¡¯t be that bad¡­¡± Vork mutters as he grabs the scarred leather cowl and puts in on his head, the leather flapping around his balding scalp as he fastens the chin strap. ¡°Oh yeah.¡± He says. ¡°This is bad. Shoot, how do you see using this thing?¡± He says as he looks around the tavern. I grab it back. ¡°You get used to it.¡± Vork looks at me with intense eyes. ¡°Blake. You know that adventurers have been going after Captain RavenCrest¡¯s treasure for four years now. And not just poor chumps like you--¡± ¡°Hey, I might be poor, but I¡¯m no--¡± ¡°What I¡¯m saying Blake, is that nobody ever has any luck! Only four people have ever made it to the Third Clue, and even they never got to the actual treasure! It¡¯s a fool¡¯s quest, Blake. A fool''s quest, indeed. I¡¯ve seen many a young adventurer come to Gothic Coast, all looking to make it rich. The smart ones leave when they realize how dangerous Dread Forest is. And the others...¡± Vork looks off into the distance. ¡°They die chasing a cursed treasure!¡± I raise an eyebrow at Vork. ¡°Yeah? Well, I¡¯m no common adventurer. I train harder than anybody.¡± I drain the rest of my ale. I catch a ghost of my reflection in the copper flagon and I wince. I can¡¯t stand looking at myself. I¡¯m deathly pale and covered in scars. My black hair is always mangled. But the worst are my eyes. I have haunted, pitch black eyes. People say that looking at me is like staring at a specter. Vork sighs again. ¡°Just know this, Blake. If you ever need some training, you know where to find me. And trust me, you¡¯ll need some training. You can¡¯t get by on wind magic and some scimitar skills forever.¡± ¡°But wind magic is the best!¡± Vork laughs. ¡°Spoken like a true wind mage. You know the six elements all have equal merit. Earth, wind, fire, water, light, and darkness. All equally powerful. The best mages study all of the elements, or at least two or three quite well.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be the first elite mage to use only wind, then. Plus, I¡¯m a spell sword, not a mage!¡± ¡°Spellsword? Really?¡± Vork laughs. ¡°As soon as you actually level up your strength stat and scimitar skill, then I¡¯ll take you seriously. Plus, using a simple [Iron Scimitar] isn¡¯t doing you any favors when it comes to melee damage. For now, you are a wind mage who can use a scimitar if need be.¡± My face burns in frustration, but he speaks some truth. My [Wind Magic] level is 378, quite solid for anybody, especially impressive for my age (I¡¯m seventeen). But my Strength is only level 223, along with my Swords skill at 245. I¡¯m not bad, but I¡¯m no expert swordsman. This is the way levels are usually measured, more or less. Under 100--Novice. 100-200--Apprentice. 200-300--Journeyman. 300-400--Expert 400-500--Master 500-600--Grandmaster 600-700--Legend Skills get more difficult to level as they get higher. Once you get to Expert Range especially, it becomes extremely difficult to grow levels. Most players never advance past 400 in any skill or stat, just because it takes so much time and effort. My highest skill is level 378 [Wind Magic], and my highest stat is level 409 [Intelligence]. Our silence is only filled with the pitter-patter of rain. It¡¯s usually raining in Gothic Coast, or at least a bit cloudy. ¡°Thanks, Vork,¡± I mutter, staring at my empty flagon. Although he¡¯s always on my case, I really appreciate Vork. He¡¯s one of the person in Gothic Coast I can actually trust. The bartender, Zelda Peterson, approaches us. ¡°You need another drink?¡± She had a pleasant face and is usually smiling. I have a mild crush on her, but I¡¯ve never mustered the courage to ask her out. Plus, what would we do? The only thing I ever do is train and drink. I guess I could have her come train with me. But I¡¯m not sure if she is the adventuring type. She seems kind of tame. I shake my head and pay for the drink, though I tip will. She¡¯s cute. It was a stupid purchase really, that¡¯s my last coin. I¡¯m going to camp out again tonight. But sometimes, after a close run in with a dragon, all I want is a nice bitter ale. Chapter 3 - Vendor Trash I walk out of the inn to light a fire and set up my [Worn Tent]--nothing more than a few scraps of leather bound together by threads of wool. Living in a [Worn Tent] is far from glamorous, but it¡¯s practical. I can travel as much as I want with no worries. Dracovania is my home. For the past six months, I had taken up the role of a lone traveler, wandering from town to town in search of work, training, and gear. As soon I as got the [Treasure of the Cursed Ravencrest] quest from reading A Captain¡¯s Treasure, I took off for Gothic Coast--a chilly and damp region in the northwest of Dracovania. I was really rather fortunate to get my hands on A Captain¡¯s Treasure from a Mud Snail. They usually only drop [Snail Meat] and maybe a few copper. The quest [Treasure of the Cursed Ravencrest] is rated Master. Quests are rated the same as skills, Novice, Apprentice, Journeyman, Expert, Master, Grandmaster, and Legend. I¡¯ve never done a Master quest before. Actually, I¡¯ve only ever completed one Expert quest in my life, and it was a long ordeal that culminated in me getting lost in a dungeon for three whole days while searching for a Goblin Priest to kill. I received 10,000 EXP in a skill of my choice for killing the level 267 Goblin Priest, so it was worth it in the end, of course. I chose to put my EXP points into [Wind Magic], as that''s my go-to skill. Here¡¯s the thing about the [Treasure of the Cursed Ravencrest] quest. First of all, to even obtain the quest, you have to have read A Captain¡¯s Treasure, which is a Rare item. Second, most players are too weak to even think about trying a Master quest. And lastly, really elite players probably aren¡¯t going to waste their time on the [Treasure of the Cursed Ravencrest] quest. It¡¯s a longer than average Master quest, requiring four whole steps. The elites likely have their quest logs full, and may even be shooting for Grandmaster or Legendary quests. But for me, [Treasure of the Cursed Ravencrest] is the only Master quest I¡¯ve ever gotten. Even if it¡¯s long, the reward of one million gold coins is too tempting to pass by. As I settle into my [Basic Sleeping Bag], all I think about is the treasure. I use my [Leather Pants of the Eagle] as a pillow. I¡¯ve become used to the stiffness of a leather on my cheek as I sleep. It would be awfully nice to sleep on a real feather pillow every now and then, but real pillows are quite expensive. My pant-pillow smells like worn leather, but my nose is familiar with the scent. What it would it feel like to have one million gold? What is it like to be rich? To have a piece of land to call my own. To have money, and gear, and power? Or, to at least have enough cash to buy a proper pillow. I bet it feels great, I think as I slowly drift to sleep. When I wake up, my toes are cold and the geese are honking. Gothic Coast is packed with geese. Giant flocks of them. I can¡¯t remember the last morning I didn¡¯t wake up their honking. I groan, rolling off the hard ground. Slowly, I rub my toes until I can feel them again. I ask my Overwatch, ¡°Overwatch: Base Stats!¡±
Name Blake FrostDeth
Strength 223
Intelligence 412
Dexterity 202
Endurance 341
Perception 145
Total Level 265
I start every day with my stats. That¡¯s my goal. Get my stats as high as possible so I can get this damn treasure. Immediately, I pack up the tent and throw it into my inventory. My inventory has 12 slots. Normal players will always have just 12 slots, but it''s possible to expand your inventory if you have enough money to pay for an [Extra Slot], or are lucky enough to find an [Extra Slot] in a chest or from a monster. That¡¯s another reason I don¡¯t have a pillow. I could perhaps afford one, but with only twelve slots to store all my possessions, a pillow isn¡¯t high on my priority list. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. I start every morning with a run. [Endurance] is an important stat, and I¡¯m always biting off more than I can chew, so I constantly have to run away from monsters. Additionally, I have an unusually wild combat style that drains Stamina at a higher rate than average. The amount of Stamina drained is directly proportional to the weight of a weapon. For example, it takes significantly more Stamina to swing an axe than it would to swing a rapier. Although my [Iron Scimitar] isn''t a particularly heavy when compared to a club, I like to be able to spam attacks. Hence, my rigid running schedule. Admittedly, I also love to run. I¡¯m on the gravel trail headed towards Mumbo Jungle. With the slight wind gliding past my cheek, I take pleasure in the heaviness of my breaths and endorphins flooding my veins. A runner¡¯s high in Dracovania is always a pleasure. Even the light Gothic Coast rain isn¡¯t going to ruin my jog. It actually feels good as my body starts to heat up. Occasionally, I have a spare moment to marvel at Gargoyles soaring through the air, thick frames silhouetted by the gray coast sky. Oftentimes, they¡¯ll fly right through a crowd of geese, sending the birds scattering and honking in terror. Gargoyles have a powerful flying style, using muscular wings to propel their heavy bodies. I have never had the opportunity to fight one, but they are fearsome opponents, with extremely high defense. Geese, on the other hand, are level one critters. You get no experience for killing a goose. Occasionally, it¡¯s possible to get some meat off a goose or level your [Hunting] skill if you catch one in a snare. Towards the end of my run, I hear a metallic jingle coming out of the wood, the unmistakable sound of a Lottery Chest. I decide that it¡¯s worth investigating. After scraping myself on a bramble and slipping over a fallen log, I discover that it is, in fact, a royal purple Lottery Chest. Lottery Chests randomly spawn across Dracovania. When you open them up, they will give you a chance at spinning a wheel for a prize. Most of the time, the prizes suck. In fact, more wealthy travelers often walk right past Lottery Chests, as the odds of winning a good prize are so low that it may not even be worth the time to spin the wheel. However, I take what I can get. I open the top of the chest, and a giant wheel pops out of the spring-loaded contraption. The wheel is able to magically float in the air. I¡¯m sprayed with a burst of confetti, which I find rather annoying. You found a Lottery Chest! Give the wheel a spin, and you may win! Just looking at the wheel, it¡¯s clear that you most often win junk. Large cuts of the pie are red, meaning your prize is some useless vendor trash. Then, there are some decent sized cuts of white, which will award you with a Common prize. A very small percentage of the wheel is green, which means you could receive a Rare prize, such as an enchanted weapon. I¡¯ve spun hundreds of these things, and I¡¯ve never won a green prize. And yet even more elusive was the barely visible single strip of gold. I¡¯ve never heard of any player who landed on the gold strip. To be honest, I¡¯m not even sure it¡¯s possible. I give the wheel a hardy spin, and sure enough, it lands on the red section. You won, Rusted Iron Screws! The chest disappears and a pile of [Rusted Iron Screws] magically appears. I pick up the vendor trash, knowing that I could probably get three or four pieces of copper for the metal. I can¡¯t afford to be ungrateful. Towards the end of my run, My Overwatch says, You have reached level 342 Endurance! Sweet! I have been working towards that level for weeks now. It¡¯s nice to finally get the payoff. I head back to the inn. For energy food, I eat a low-level herb, [Goat¡¯s Tongue]. The thick leaf is bitter and dry in my mouth, but it gives me some Stamina and refills my hunger meter, so I keep chewing. My [Herblore] is pretty bad--32--but I¡¯m constantly picking up any herbs I can get so I don¡¯t have to spend money on food. Everybody has a hunger meter--mine¡¯s at 52% right after that [Goat¡¯s Tongue]. When it drops below 10%, your [Strength] and [Endurance] Stats reduce by 50%. As Vork pointed out, I need some scimitar practice, so I decide to dedicate today to sword training, though I¡¯m still unsure if I¡¯ll grow a level. I glance at my experience bar for [Swords], which is over 97% full, and I think that perhaps with an entire day of training, I might grow my [Swords] to level 246. Instead of heading toward the more menacing Dread Forest, I go to Fair Plains. I¡¯m trading the muted oaks and swampy terrain of Dread Forest for the green grass and calm willow trees of the Plains. Occasionally, the sun will peek out from the clouds, sending beams of light splaying down on the Blue Slimes and Rock Moles of the Fair Plains. Today, however, the sun is only barely visible through a thick haze of clouds. Both Blue Slimes and Rock Moles are fairly weak monsters. Although levels vary per creature, Blue Slimes are usually around level 34, and Rock Moles are maybe level 70 at best. The Forest Crab is the toughest monster here, but it is still rarely over level 118. Of course, training on lower level monsters yields significantly fewer experience points, but it''s also much safer. After my struggles with the Sludge Dragon, I''d rather play it safe for a bit. As I walk toward the training ground, I can see several other treasure hunters also training on the weak monsters. One warrior is decked out with heavy steel gear and a giant [Mithril Sword]. By the etchings on the blade, I identify the sword as the [Mithril Sword of the Boar]. I also catch a rogue sneaking around and backstabbing a Forest Crab with a sharp [Steel Knife]. The knife could be platinum rather than steel; it¡¯s difficult to tell, especially for somebody like me, who has never been able to afford either metal. There is one thing all the other treasure hunters have in common; their superior gear outranks mine at every level. What I lack in gear, I make up for in hard training The first monster I encounter is a Blue Slime--a blue blob of goo with needle-like teeth. I slash the goop with my scimitar, sending goo spraying across the forest ground. The slime¡¯s health bar drops down about 30%, and he charges at me with bared fangs. I slip away from the blow and kick the slime with a swift roundhouse. The slime flies backward, stunned from the blow. He starts rolling towards me. I stab him with my scimitar, the blade sinking deep in his goop. He squeals and disintegrates into a pile of ashes and a useless [Torn Leather Boots]. I can probably sell the boots for six or seven copper. I only have two empty slots in my inventory, but I pick them up anyway. I¡¯m hoping for better drops today, but this is at least a start. The next creature that crosses my path is a Rock Mole. He burrows under me and chucks some rocks at me, but I¡¯m able to easily defeat him with a few well-placed strokes of my sword. The monsters are so much easier here than at Dread Forest that I''m almost bored. Yawn. But overall, it¡¯s probably still worth it to train on weaker monsters, as I¡¯m still unable to defeat a stupid Sludge Dragon. Publication! Unfortunately, I was forced to take the rest of the story down from RR! Fear not, for I am planning to write more, hopefully in this series, and I''ll post it! Thank you, kind readers, for encouraging me during this process. Because of you, I had the motivation to keep writing! Many thanks, my friends.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. It''s wonderful how much LitRPG has grown in the last couple years, and I''m excited to contribute to this genre in any way that I can. I am hoping that Dragon Mastery: Daybreak is going to be the first of a Dragon Mastery Trilogy. I''ve also been bouncing around the idea of a VRMMORPG, because those stories are awesome, and I''d love to write one.