He did take a second to consider his choice to spend the points now, though. The only scenario he could envision making him regret it was the acquisition of an item with requirements he didn’t meet. In that case, having spare APs on hand to reach the threshold would come in clutch. In the end, Garath was not going to keep a stash of APs to hopefully be useful later.
With that in mind, Garath got to work plugging his points. At first, he considered the fact that he was a damage-dealing caster, leaning him toward pumping all forty-four APs into Wisdom and Regeneration. With his role in group combat, he shouldn’t need more Health than he already had. Frankly, he went a little overboard on Vitality to make it through The Culling.
That idealistic thinking wouldn’t keep him alive though, if he took more than 930 damage. He knew better than anyone that, in this new world, words like ‘fair’ or ‘likely’ didn't matter. Garath grudgingly placed seven APs into Vitality, bringing his total (including the Item bonuses) to an even hundred. He increased his Regeneration by twelve, bringing it to seventy, and dumped the last twenty-five into Wisdom. With a thought, he confirmed his choices and closed his eyes as the power surged through him.
Each time he assigned his Attribute Points in the past, Garath had felt the improved stats wash over him in a wave. This time was... different, like a rogue tidal wave of power injected into him through an IV. True, he had never invested over forty points at once before, but he was still shocked by the overwhelming feeling. After a few seconds of enjoying the blissful surge of power, Garath smiled, congratulating himself on his choices.
Garath opened a dialogue with Alice concerning his Dungeon team. He was surprised by the speed of her reply. The second he confirmed the prompt to send his message, her reply arrived in his inbox. The reply from the Lore Keeper looked almost like a corporate, ‘out-of-office’ template, stating that she was happy to hear from him and to keep her posted on his group’s progress. Garath shrugged, closed his MENU panels, and went on with his morning.
Chapter Two - Nameology
The weather felt as pleasant as any July day in the Pacific Northwest, but Garath could feel a summer storm on its way in from the west. The choppy ocean reflected stone grey from the dense clouds overhead. The dense clouds were moving east and toward the shore in a hurry. With his 300% improved sense of smell, Garath could pass as a weatherman just by sniffing the breeze. Rain was on the way. The Necrologist glanced south to check on the plume of smoke that had caught his attention a few minutes before.
It had been only a minor concern with the column of smoke so far away, but his interest grew when Garath noticed it coming closer. It was strange. There was no fire in sight. Just a plume of smoke wandering through the broken city of Everett. It wasn’t until that moment, with the pillar of smoke rising out of a dense cluster of trees even closer to his position and The Band’s headquarters that Garath decided it was time to investigate.
He nodded to reassure himself. Okay. A magic smoke cloud is heading this way. It’s probably not a big deal. Right? Just a friendly, wandering, fireless smoke cloud.
He watched the plume of smoke for a handful of minutes without noticing any changes, so Garath decided he had a few minutes to do something he had been meaning to do for quite some time before investigating the anomaly.
With a directed thought, Garath pulled his summoned demons from the confines of his mind. The Fel Hound looked up at him, open mouthed and drooling. The Flayer lifted off the ground with an easy beat of its wings and hovered in front of his summoner. Garath looked at the creatures fondly. My reliable little devil monsters.
"I think it's time you two get your names," he told them.
The Fel Hound looked intently at his summoner, then did a quick circuit of the area to search for possible danger. Apparently satisfied with their relative safety, it sat in front of Garath with its stubby tail thumping against the dirt. The Flayer glanced down at the Hound with an unimpressed expression, then transferred the same glare to Garath and folded its arms over its bird-like chest.
Garath considered the Flayer. Its grotesque features and hideous scowl were anything but endearing. Still, the Necrologist felt a certain fondness for the lower demon. He didn’t see the two of them going out for drinks any time soon, but they had fought their share of battles together, and Garath appreciated the ugly little demon for what it was. A killer. With one hand on his chin, Garath grinned at the revolting creature in front of him. He had the perfect name for the Flayer.
"I'll call you ‘Handsome’" he decided. Beaming in pride at his own cleverness, Garath raised one eyebrow in curious surprise as he received an unexpected prompt.
Would you like to bestow the name ‘Handsome’ to Summoned Flayer?
Yes or No
Not seeing a downside, Garath chose ‘Yes’. If the prompt confirming a system acknowledgement was unexpected, what came next was a complete surprise. The Flayer flashed white, temporarily blinding Garath. When his eyes readjusted, Garath was not looking at a simple, lowly Flayer anymore. Handsome had... evolved? Instead of useless little legs dangling below him and gnarled, twig-like arms protruding from his shoulders, Handsome sported a much more humanoid form. He was still only about three feet tall and
