Lifestealer: Cursed Healer [A LITRPG Isekai Survival]

While Symon's main abilities had made only minor progress, he had surprisingly high gains in his lesser-used ones. Anatomy usually didn't tend to be very noticeable ever since he'd adapted to the sensory overload it first brought, but both it and Essence Bond had made a big jump after he used the link he had with Keelgrave to… well, he still wasn't entirely sure what they'd done. Instead of being two separate people communicating using the bond, they'd become one.

It should have been scary, the loss of control was the thing he'd been fearing when he saw the ability in his Ledger, but it hadn't felt like that at all. He hadn't stopped being Symon, he'd just become something more. They were like two water droplets pressing against each other, and the surface tension had finally broken and merged them together. No water had been created or destroyed, but the number of droplets had changed.

It was a new aspect of his ability, one he hadn't even needed an evolution for. This made it clear to Symon that the numbers in the Ledger were not the whole picture: improvements could come from a deeper comprehension of what was already there. He'd already known this in a more abstract sense: two people with a level 10 Swords skill could wield them vastly differently depending on their other experiences, but this had been a more concrete example.

With this in mind, he shifted his future plans around slightly. The dungeon was still his best bet for gaining the control he needed over his abilities, but it was a dangerous prospect. While stories of dungeons were widespread even among the common people of Cathar, little verifiable information was available. These stories were clear in one thing, though: the incredible rewards offered by dungeons were matched by the risk.

As such, he needed to take some time to prepare. Ever since waking up buried in the sand, he'd ran — often literally — from one thing to another, never taking things slow. The possibilities offered by the dungeon were too big to pass over, but nothing said he had to rush into it immediately. The Dumosans were more than happy to delay their return home for a shot at it, so there was no point getting themselves killed just because they got greedy.

Entisse had been let in on what was ostensibly the secret knowledge of the dungeon's existence, although Symon wasn't worried about her spreading things for several reasons. Mostly, she wasn't a fan of humans, and there was no realistic scenario where she would be talking with a random villager, but she'd also already sworn to keep it a secret on her ancestor's blood. It was a very serious promise, she'd informed him.

She, too, was very interested in the dungeon, and everyone acknowledged that having a deep elf along for the exploration of an underground dungeon would be a boon to them all. Her knowledge of subterranean monsters and other hazards would be invaluable, and she could also see in the dark incredibly well. A little too well, actually. It hadn't been a problem in the perpetual dusk inside the pollen barrier, but she was constantly squinting against the harsh glare provided by the three suns, even in the shade.

I'm sure I could pay someone to attach some dark glass to a metal frame…

Life on the Eastern continent was much colder and drearier than the Wastes. It reminded him of England, when compared to the glimpses he'd seen from Keelgrave. The suns would still be a problem there, just a slightly lesser one. Although…

I wonder if there's a Light Resistance. I suppose there's no reason there wouldn't be one…

That was a problem for the future. Right now, he wanted to work on allowing everyone else to pass through the barrier, and to run some tests with Entisse. They needed to find out how much Constitution and Poison Resistance was required to make someone immune to the barrier, or at least to the lower levels that permeated the interior.

After that, they'd all check out the tower together, just to make sure there weren't any undead or other monsters waiting to burst out. When that was cleared, he could finally focus on using his abilities to train as hard as he possibly could.

Entisse withdrew her arm from the mist, whipping it downwards to shake off the pollen. The Dumosans, who had gathered around in a distant half-circle to observe, all instinctively took a step back. From his position right next to her, Symon was pretty sure he saw the corner of her mouth twitch in the slightest of smirks.

"Any pain?" he asked. Something about the immediacy with which she began to respond made him cut her off with a pointed finger. "And be honest."

She huffed once. "Perhaps there is some slight discomfort," she admitted.

He rolled his eyes before poking and prodding at her arm. The pale grey skin had darkened where it had been in the mist, and not just because of the black pollen still scattered across her skin, but he didn't spot any blisters.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

"I'd bet you'll be fine once you're inside as long as you don't start rolling around in a big patch of pollen. What's your Poison Resistance at now?"

She scratched one of her claws against her wrist, drawing a thin line of blood. It began sliding up her arm in the reverse of gravity, the crimson liquid following along the outside of her veins before extending out like the branches or roots of a tree.

The others respectfully looked away, while Symon unashamedly stared in mixed horror and fascination as she manifested her Ledger. The letters were curled and tightly packed. They were also unreadable to him, which also included what he assumed were the numbers.

"Two," she said.

"Impressive, considering you just got it. And your Constitution?"

It was clear that Entisse — or perhaps her people as a whole — didn't have the same taboo against sharing the details of one's Ledger that the rest of the world seemed to have, which Symon considered a point in their favour. Even now, the Dumosans didn't want to share their exact numbers, not even between each other.

"Three point eight nine."

A strangled choking sound came from their side. When he glanced over, everyone was staring at Atabek, whose face was rapidly reddening. "Entisse… more. Atabek less!" he said.

Symon was surprised too. She looked starved and sickly, but your Attributes could only ever stay the same or go up, never down. She was almost four times more robust than a person would normally ever be able to achieve, so it was no wonder that she was mostly immune to the pollen with only two levels in the resistance.

He wasn't sure how much her being a different species affected things. When he'd reached a full one in his first stat, the Ledger had told him he'd reached the non-magical peak for his species. Were elves naturally less physically resistant than, say, an orc? Would the same number mean different things for different people?

He suspected that he already knew the answer, but he had an easy way to confirm. "Hey, Keelgrave, would Atabek still be stronger than Safiya even if they had the same Strength?"

<Of course, why?>

"Just wondering how things might be different for elves. Is it because he's bigger?"

<Yes, mostly. The numbers you see are more of a multiplier, and it doesn't consider things like having better leverage or more mass.>

"Ah, that makes sense," he said. "So, she's currently four times as resistant as a person deep in starvation would be…"

The spirit in his vessel pulsed a wordless thrum of agreement. Meanwhile, the Dumosans had continued to glance between Entisse and Atabek. The shock on his face and morphed into wonder, and he asked Entisse something with a short burst of his native language.

She shrugged, using her ring to understand what he'd said. "Training from a young age, and lots of it," she answered. "Practitioners of the sanguine arts place more importance on Constitution than most mages would. I learned its value early, shortly after I was selected to receive the class."

Now it was Symon's turn to stare at Entisse in shock: this was the first time she'd said more than a couple of words to the others on her own. It turned out all he'd needed to do to get her to open up was to ask her about blood: the others hadn't, assuming she wouldn't want to give any information on her Class.

"Wait, someone gave you your class?" he frowned. He hadn't gone through the normal class selection process, but Keelgrave had already clued him in. Once someone had their awakening, where they formed their mana core and were able to summon their own Ledger, they were given a large list of Class options. These options were based on many things, such as personal experience, disposition, or family history. Children of Blacksmiths tended to have the class offered in their awakening, for example.

Many classes had specific requirements to unlock, most of which were strictly guarded secrets, while some were more common knowledge. Symon, without any musical talents and a singing voice that was likely considered a weapon, wouldn't have been offered the Bard class.

"Perhaps in a certain sense, but no. To be a Bloodfang Huntress, one must take. The lorekeepers learned that I had the correct disposition and affinity, and so they revealed the process to me."

Symon had heard that title before, but he'd assumed it was just a title or nom de plume. "Why was it a secret? Too dangerous to be spread?" He wasn't sure why they bothered, not when they'd lived far underground on a continent almost entirely devoid of other civilisation.

"The weak wield lies and secrets, untrusting in the strength of their own body. I cared not for their petty politics," she shrugged. "Look where it got them. Perhaps more Bloodfangs would have been enough to defeat the humans."

Symon tapped his chin. "And you didn't know who these humans were, right? Could you describe them?"

"None of us knew of them. They appeared from the surface, steel fighters and robed mages both. There were perhaps five hundred of them, all in all. Their leader was a tall man with grey hair. What else do you wish to know?"

Symon cast a glance towards the others, who were all frowning in recognition. Even Keelgrave had started buzzing. <Imperials! A full banier, if her count is right. But what the hell would those dogs be doing here?>

"It has to be for the dungeon, right? They must have seen all the mana iron and assumed."

<Maybe, but why now? That dead Lady has been gone for decades. The Empire wouldn't leave a dungeon untapped for even a single day.>

"I think we already know who it was," Symon said aloud. Aslan nodded along, while the others took on more thoughtful expressions after the previous excitement over Entisse's Constitution.

"Tell me who, so that I may tear out their throats and sup upon their strength!" she demanded.

"Err, it's the Eternal Empire. They're from a different continent, and their leader is like a billion years old or something. Too strong for you."

<Probably more like a thousand years old. You can't believe their propaganda.>

The elf stared intently at the Dumosans, then back to Symon. "First, we conquer the dungeon, then, the Empire!"

"One thing at a time," Symon sighed. "The others can't even get past the barrier yet."