It took Arthur two days before he was certain. He had begun to suspect after the first day, after he'd woken refreshed and ready to keep moving - or as refreshed hunkering under a poncho and crammed into the side of a tree in a useful hollow could be. Rather than climbing the rather spiky and scrawny trees near him, he'd chosen to just use the hollow after killing the lurking badger-like monster within.
Two days and he was quite clear. He hard countered the entire damn eight floor. The eight floor wasn't particularly difficult, it wasn't even particularly complex. It was just a slog. Day in, day out; you walked the trail, killed the monsters that came at you, took minor wounds and kept going.
It was very much a marathon, and over the next three floors, the injuries he was supposed to acquire at each floor would slow him down. He'd known this, of course, what with the wiki having detailed the unchanging setup; but he hadn't realised how much of a counter his own advantages were till he had experienced it.
In fact, he was realising, his Seal would make it easier for all his Clan members.
Injuries? Constantly healing. If he took a nasty enough attack, he just had to pull off for a few hours to have it healed up enough that he didn't have to worry about it. Rest? Sure, there had been creatures that had tried to get to him, but he'd blocked it off enough that the few he had to kill when he exited were no issue. And the side effect of the healing was that he needed less sleep.
The pressure from knowing that there was a time limit - arbitrary in the sense of the vast swarm that would catch up with him if he took too long - limited. After all, his Yin Body kept his mind calm, shifted his temperament to a more logical one. He didn't have the rush of adrenaline, the nerves that might affect others knowing there was a countdown.
More to the point, he was making good time. There was, obviously, enough time for most individuals to make it up the eight floor without encountering the swarm. So long as you kept pushing, you never had to worry about them. Of course, the constant howls late at night, the knowledge something was coming for him, that could wear on a person. The deadline, a pressure.
Then again, he'd been on a time pressure for the last few months now. Pushing ahead. So this was just another damn thing, which he had to handle.
He could do that.
He was doing it. In fact, and while there weren't any actual markers, Arthur could gauge from the descriptions and memorised landmarks how far he had come and he realised he was making good time. A week to get through the entire floor, and he was probably a day early if he kept at this rate. Nine days in, roughly, was when the packs that were hunting him would catch up. Give or take a day, since it was distance more than time that was the issue.
Of course, a small niggle of worry was when someone was a little too slow, when the monsters came too fast. When the packs swarmed the Climbers and they never managed to make it out.
Like that graphic of planes that returned, where the numbers given were only for those who had survived - and not for those who had fallen.
It was that minor niggle of worry that kept him moving, putting one foot in front of the other as he kept an eye out for monsters. He would have preferred to practise his techniques, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Especially as the number of ambush attackers and traps kept rising.
"No fair!" Arthur snarled, eyes widening as the latest trap came barreling down at him. Whoever had decided that the giant rolling boulder trap was the ultimate in Climber killing had cheated, choosing to add in some magical railguards on the trail. In this way, instead of bouncing off the trail itself and disappearing - like pretty much any boulder might have in real life - it was forced to descend in a rolling, bouncing vertical line of death.
Lips compressed as he considered his options, time feeling to slow down as he watched the boulder bounce upwards and then again. Two options. Get off the trail - either sideways up the hill or off the trail itself, climbing in the air using Cloud Steps - or under, sliding beneath the boulder as it bounced.
Unfortunately, there was never a guarantee of how high the boulder would rise or fall. It was, in fact, rather frustrating to estimate. He could risk it, but if he misjudged his sprawl and slide, he would be facing a couple of tonnes of angry stone. Better to take the easier method, even if did require cultivation energy.
Moments to look, analyze and decide and then he was dashing sideways, leaping into the air to get out of the way of the boulder. Luckily, the magical rails that kept the boulder bouncing down the trail only did not keep him from leaping away. One cloud, holding still for as long as he could as he bent his leg in and then jumping straight forward again to the next.
Another cloud, the second one half-formed on the top of a branch. It was not enough, by itself, to give him traction. But with the branch on top of it, he was able to dig in, leap forwards at a sideways angle. It let him fly through the air even as the boulder kept bouncing, disappearing down the hill as he hit the ground, rolled and came up.
"Yes!"
Of course, that's when the lurking monkeys hanging on the edges, watching the boulder disappear attacked him. A half-dozen of the damn creatures, half leaping at him, the others lobbing stones at Arthur. One missed, another smacked into his thigh and a third into his arm, numbing his arm and nearly causing him to drop his spear.
Bad timing, as the howling monkeys, screaming and chittering and saliva splattering out there struck him as they descended. He couldn't get a spear upwards, he instead shifted to raise his other elbow and allow the first to land on it, elbow sinking into body. Another slammed into lower body, the momentum of both bowling him over even as the third landed a little too short and had to scramble forward.
A scrum, a fight between the quartet as Arthur battled the creatures. They were weak, significantly weaker than him. It almost felt like an adult doing battle with a trio - no, a sixtet - of toddlers. Except these toddlers were willing to bite, scratch, spit and claw to do damage. One hand, gripping a monster by the arm as he spun to smash it into another.
Staggering back, bleeding from a couple of minor scratches, using the monkey as an improvised, furry mace. Slam, smash and swing; one after the other until the creatures fell down, bowled over. The flesh of the arm tearing, a hard swing pulling it right off, leaving him with an arm and no body.
That worked anyway.
Moments later, Arthur was done. As with any other battle, any fight on this floor, it hadn't been hard. A little annoying, what with the constant screaming, the spit on his face and the long scratches on his arm. Infection was a concern if he didn't have his healing system. But he could feel a slight strain down his ribs, scratches on his arm and along his neck. Minor injuries, piling on.
They'd scab over in an hour, heal over in a few hours.
A few moments to open up the chest, to find the beast cores within and then he dropped them into his pouch and scooped up his spear before moving on. Linger too long here, and there'd be another monster - most likely the kuching hitam that would come by, pushing him on.
So he moved, using his spear to lever himself up and scanning the ground.
A few dozen steps, a pressure plate - and why there would be a pressure plate on a trail, he had no idea - avoided and on and on he went.
Steps, climbing higher, wondering when the next shoe would drop.