“Repeat after me.” Kirito looked over a dazed and battered guild leaning against a wrecked mausoleum, still watching the dissipating polygons of a re-killed psionic undead monster. “I will spend a half hour meditating, every day.”
The chorus of groans almost made him laugh. Almost.
“I will listen to the villagers about monsters,” Kirito went on, carefully not smiling. “After all, if they’re still alive, they may be doing something right.”
“I will remember that enchanted weapons may still not be entirely effective for all monsters,” Kirito continued. “Especially incorporeal ones.”
This time, there were a few whimpers in the groans. Good. Pain was a teacher. Granted, there hadn’t been that many incorporeal monsters in the game so far. But the higher the level, the tougher the monsters. They had to be ready.
“Last, but not least.” Kirito did smirk this time. “Claws go into the bad guys.”
Shoulders hunched, Klein dropped his chin onto his knuckles. The tips of his ears were red. “…Sorry.”
“You used your claws, not your teeth,” Kirito shrugged it off. The Caller’s mental attacks had dazed almost everybody, as he’d expected. Most of the psionic mobs he’d met before had been what Vincent called phrenic creatures; otherwise ordinary monsters with just a touch of deadly psionic power. The Caller was on a completely different level. If he’d been alone, he wouldn’t have tried fighting it. But he wasn’t alone. He was with Fuurinkazan, and he… trusted them. Even if Klein had gone furry and claws-out. Better Klein figured out what a dazed weretiger’s instincts were likely to do now, among friends. No bite meant no infection; it wasn’t a big deal. “I’m fine… what?”
Still giving him a considering look, Issin shook his head. “I’ll have to go reread Argo’s Guides for the last few levels. I think I missed a few things.” He chuckled. “At least now we know why her Guides are so good.”
Kirito tried not to blink. “She gets information from a lot of players.”
“I’m sure she does.”