Adrenaline Junkie [Book 2 Complete]

Aoife's left hand reached over her shoulder, grabbing the military grade D-Grade Mana Injector that Archie had passed to her. She brought it to the right side of her neck, just below her jaw, pressing it firmly against her skin before pressing down on the activation button.

Letting out a short yet electrifying gasp as the cold rush of mana surged through her, intertwining with her own reserves, Aoife's guard rose. The dull gray streaks of mana flaring at the edges of her Scutum thickened and expanded, restoring it to its original size just in time to block another barrage of magical and physical attacks raining down on them.

Swallowing hard, Aoife steeled her heart and used the placebo effect of the electrifying rush from the Mana Injector to muster the courage to glance at the forest below.

Why did she now discover her fear of heights? She was able to stare down death many times in the colosseum and even more outside of it. She'd killed creatures and people stronger than her and lived by the skin of her teeth.

So why was it only now that she realized she had this insipid fear of heights? She'd flown on Skyships before, fought off sky pirates, and protected M… him on numerous occasions when they raided the vessels; she was ordered to protect him, along with others she was contracted to.

Aoife was pulled out of her thoughts as a large projectile slammed into her Scutum, instantly draining a quarter of the mana she had been imbuing into the shield. The impact triggered a deafening explosion, sending shockwaves that rippled through the air.

However, the Mana Bike and Aoife's shield remained largely unaffected by the explosion, courtesy of Aoife's Bulwark of Fortification skill she'd activated prior.

There was still a bit more than half a kilometer left until they reached the ground.

Who would have thought that beyond the Border Wall of the Netharim Sovereignty lay a four-kilometer drop into a cleared-out section of the Greenpatch forest?

Feeling the Mana Bike rip through another light greenish blue mana ramp, and the muscles on Archie's back spasm slightly, a side effect of taking a military grade E-Grade Mana Injector. The resources in Injector-type potions were… colder than their counterparts, so when they flooded into your resource pools, it felt as though the hot water in your shower suddenly became ice cold.

Interestingly enough, they were preferred by cold-blooded races over other non-injector potions. She'd learned this from her cellmate back, before she met… Laer.

Military grade potion injectors were quite different from their normal counterparts. Normal potion injectors simply injected their resources into the target once pressed. Military grade potion injectors function very similarly to their normal counterparts, but they provide 10-15% less resources.

But not without reason; for example, using a military-grade Health Injector would boost your maximum health regeneration by 5–10% for a quarter of an hour.

The only confusing thing about them was why they were called "military-grade." They were fairly common in cities with an alchemist guild, and citizens, adventurers, and the like often carried them along with their normal potions, preferring them over the standard Regeneration-type Injectors.

Regardless of why they were called the way they were, this was not the time to be lost in thought.

Aoife's narrowed eyes widened as she saw, through her shield, an almost peak-level D-Grade archer fully deploy their full-cast greatbow from their arm and draw back an arrow the size of her body.

"We need to jump now!" She exclaimed, her voice filled with panic. "A peak D-Grade archer set their sights on us. We need to find cover and get out of here fast!"

Following her instructions absolutely, Archie immediately deactivated Runic Amplification and Runic Mending on his Mana bike and sent it back into his spatial storage, leaving both Archie and Aoife to free-fall almost half a kilometer above the forest below them.

As they descended, Aoife shouted the words, "Sorry," before hurling herself towards him and grabbing him in a bear hug with her left arm pushing his head down.

Seconds before the great arrow left the near-peak D-Grade archer's greatbow, Aoife flooded her body with mana and stamina, pushing her boosting skill beyond its 10% limiter. Without hesitation, she activated Scutum Protection.

The Scutum in front of Archie trembled for a split second before hundreds of small Deepiron plates shot out from its edges, expanding outward with impossibly fast speed. In an instant, the plates locked into place, forming an upside-down, egg-shaped shell that nearly encapsulated all of Archie and herself.

Nearly all.

Archie's eyes widened as, faster than he could react, the Deepiron plates sliced through his unprotected shins and locked into place to form an inverted oval-shaped shell around them both. Leaving the other half of his shins to tumble through the air and plummet into the forest below.

Is this what it means to suffer from success? Archie complained internally. He had grown a few inches after his last evolution, a subconscious response to his desire to be taller than his younger brother.

Now, he was paying the price for that subconscious wish, according to himself. Though in reality, this would have happened regardless of his growth, having already been taller than Aoife even before his evolution.

Immediately putting a stop to Vital Metabolism from supercharging his vital energy and directing it toward his stumps, Archie instead took a moment to thank himself for his foresight in swapping out his Steel-Plated Shadowstalker Boots for a pair of Border Guard Boots.

While the switch had initially been for disguise purposes, if he had kept his original boots on—assuming no one had noticed—they would have been unrepairable. Their durability had already been teetering between Poor and Broken status, and having them destroyed all at once would have snapped the thin, metaphorical thread that tied the runes to him.

The Shadowstalker leather had already been nearing the end of its lifespan from the way Archie treated them—running through acid, being engulfed in undeath mana, pierced, and torn apart countless times without ever once being properly repaired by a Leathersmith.

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This neglect would have forced the Soul-Bond and Self-Repair runes to cannibalize themselves in a desperate attempt to restore the material beneath them. And as a result, the boots would have deteriorated to the point where they could no longer even sustain the E-Grade Common rarity runes he'd placed on them; Soul-Bound and Self-Repair.

At that stage, the stats he gained from the boots would have vanished from his Status Page, as the System would consider the metaphorical equipment slot on his feet to be empty.

Mentally placing a medal atop himself in his mind, Archie pressed both of his hands to the sides of the Deepiron shelling around them both and activated Runic Archive.

Going through his catalogue of three runes he'd stored prior, Archie selected the third and most recent addition to the catalogue: Greater Physical Resistance.

Both of Archie's palms glowed as the mana that coursed through his arms formed the mana pathways and runic bases that were needed to create the Greater Physical Resistance runic scripts.

The masked, nearly peak D-Grade archer standing atop the wall released a soft exhale as her great arrow glowed with a faint green hue. With a subtle twitch of her fingers, she let the light green glowing great arrow fly.

The sheer force of its release and the kickback of the bowstring sent a shockwave that rippled through the air, knocking several nearby guards—unaware of her presence—off balance, slamming their bodies either against the rampart walls or tumbling off the wall.

Yet, the nearly peak D-Grade archer remained unfazed, her gaze locked onto her target as the arrow streaked through the sky with deadly precision.

Once they had been etched onto the Scutum shelling, Archie activated Elastic Sizing atop both Greater Physical Resistance runic scripts, expanding them to cover as much of the shelling as possible.

Just as the glow around his palms faded, Archie was about to create a quick mana construct to signal Aoife to activate the runic scripts. However, she was already one step ahead.

Without wasting a second, she activated the newly etched runic scripts, causing them to pulse with a dull gray glow as they covered the entirety of the shelling, to which he then activated both Runic Amplification and Runic Mending.

Archie and Aoife were given a brief few seconds of respite as they plummeted toward the forest below, with the only sound being Archie's grumbling stomach, much to Archie's embarrassment and Aoife's strained chuckle.

Midway through Archie's attempt to justify himself, the great arrow zipped through the sky, covering the eight-kilometer distance in mere seconds before crashing into the Deepiron Scutum shelling.

The impact created a deafening explosion that ruptured both of their eardrums and sent shockwaves through their bodies, the force so immense that it not only rattled them within but also abruptly halted their descent, redirecting them midair and launching them north-northeast, away from the Netharim Sovereignty's Border Wall.

Even as countless cracks spread across the Scutum shelling's outer frame, they refused to reach deeper than a few centimeters, held at bay by Aoife's numerous active defensive skills and Archie's swift application of Runic Archive, Runic Amplification, and Runic Mending.

The near peak D-Grade Archie retracted her bow and continued to stare down the Deepiron oval shelling as it tore through the canopies of the Lower Greenpatch Forest.

She continued to watch as it crashed into the earth, carving a deep trench into the forest floor before finally coming to a grinding halt. Only turning away once the two invaders who'd breached the Netharim Sovereignty's Border Wall crawled out of the crater.

She'd done her duty.

Henry let out exhausted huffs as he trudged toward one of the few larger rocks that weren't covered in acid or blood. The moment he reached it, he collapsed onto the stone, letting his bastard sword slip from his hand and clatter onto the floor with a dull thud.

Staring at the stalactites above him, Henry found the primary target of the contract he overtook hanging a few meters off to his right.

Light blue tunic and robe, bluish-purple skin, long… well, semi-melted, blue hair, and a stupid-looking starfish tattoo on his left cheek, Henry mentally listed as he stared up at the hanging body above him.

Minus the tens of pale-colored eggs bulging from his body, he thought with a sigh. He should be the one I'm looking for.

Pushing himself up off the rock he had collapsed on, Henry was about to rub his face to relieve some of the exhaustion from hunting down and killing the pack of Murkskitters, but stopped when he noticed his gloves were covered in blood and grime.

With a weary tug, he pulled down the Commoner's Wrap that had been covering the lower half of his face, revealing tired, bloodshot eyes that stared blankly at the heavily burnt and lacerated Murkskitter corpses scattered around the cavern.

After what felt like hours to him, Henry finally shifted his gaze away from the sight around him and looked down at his stained gloves.

Slipping them off, Henry took out a Water Tin from the spatial storage that came from his ring and slowly began to sip it, going over the system notifications he'd received after killing the Murskitters.

*[Murkskitter Lv 83] has been slain – XP has been given.*
***
*[Murkskitter Lv 87] has been slain – XP has been given.*

*Your Class has reached Lv 81 – Points allocated, +4 Free Points*
*Your Class has reached Lv 82 – Points allocated, +4 Free Points*
*Your Race has reached Lv 73 – Points allocated, +3 Free Points*

Still got more than halfway left to go until D-Grade, Henry remarked, splashing a bit of water from his Water Tin onto his face. Putting away the Water Tin, he then used the fabric of his Commoner's Wrap to wipe away the dried blood and bits of chitin that still clung to his face.

Pulling out a meaty sandwich wrapped in a brown paper sleeve from his spatial storage, Henry quickly devoured it and crumbled up the paper sleeve before tossing it over his shoulder.

Just a few more days till those dwelfs finish touching up that teleporter to be safe enough for Camilla, Henry reminded himself while licking the corners of his lips. It's been a hot minute since I've tasted honey mustard… Maria loved it as well… preferably with watermelon for some ungodly reason.

Henry released yet another deep exhale before taking out one of the throwing daggers he kept inside one of his side pouches and a folded three-by-three-meter black tarp from his pouch strapped onto his thigh.

Tossing the tarp onto the ground, Henry sent a surge of mana into it as it left his grasp. Within seconds, the tarp automatically spread out flat beneath him, positioned just below the hanging, egg-infested dwelf corpse.

Flicking his other hand at the rope of webbing that tied the dead dwelf to the cavern ceiling, the throwing dagger easily sliced through the thick webbing and embedded itself into the ceiling.

Taking a quick step back as the dwelf corpse fell atop the tarp, Henry watched with a slight glimmer of amusement the tarp shot up from the ground and enveloped the corpse, reminiscent of a fantasy slime from a show Maria introduced to him a few months back.

It's only been a week and a half now, Henry mused, forlornly staring as the tarp molded itself around the corpse, covering it entirely and producing two straps on its side for him to use. But I'm more lost than I've ever been.

Henry looped his arms through the straps and hefted the tarpified corpse onto his back before making his way around the cavern. As he walked, he yanked his throwing dagger from the ceiling with a mana string, slipping it back into his pouch. He then retrieved his bastard sword from the ground and, with one of the short swords strapped to his lower back, methodically lopped off the heads of the Murkskitters, sending each one into his spatial storage as proof of their deaths for the guild Ragnar had referred him to - Omniversal Solutions.

When he met Ragnar after conferring with the System Aspect, they spoke a few words, each one sending him down a spiral. He had no knowledge of where his wife was, nor where his brother was. His parents were stuck in stasis for two thousand years, which, unless he reached C-Grade, seeing them again would be a pipe dream. His wife… And to top it all off, he had a daughter, not even a month old, to take care of.

It was fucked, very, very fucked.

But every time he stared into her face, every time she gurgled, every breath she took, it gave him the push he needed to keep going. Wallowing in self-pity was never an option, nor would it ever be. Not until his nerves calmed. Not until he found one of the main pillars in his life – his older brother.

Until then, he had contracts to turn in and a daughter to pick up from the guild-contracted maid, whom he'd managed to find.