Level-Up Apocalypse: Surviving With The Assimilation System
Chapter 93: Level One-Hundred

There was no sense of triumph in the unremarkable spoils obtained in his victory, leaving him to wipe his daggers off on one of the tall blades of grass.

'How long am I going to remain small like this? I'm not exactly a fan of fighting for my life against rats,' he questioned.

There was no choice but to step into the grass, as though entering a cornfield. Everything felt off when experiencing the world from the perspective of an ant; the blades of grass swayed at twice his height, throwing his sense of scale off completely.

'I wonder if the others have noticed I'm gone yet. Just hope they aren't freaking out—I'll get back, somehow,' he thought while traversing the towering field.

He did his best to wipe off the blood from the slain vermin as he moved, replaceing the smell unpleasant. It was hard to see anything around him with how much taller the grass was, leaving him heading north in hopes of it working out.

A rustle in the grass ahead halted his next step, bringing him to listen in for a moment. From the left and right, more rummaging was heard.

"Not again," he tiredly whispered to himself at the idea of more rats to face.

Raising his daggers, he readied himself for what was coming, replaceing himself surrounded as the blades of grass were parted.

What crawled out in droves were not vermin, but multi-segmented, black-husked creatures with bulbous eyes and glistening mandibles.

—Ants.

Each of the insects was the same size as himself, though they outnumbered him one hundred-to-one. They surrounded him as their mandibles dripped onto the soil.

'Crap…This is even worse,' he thought.

Common enough knowledge reminded him of the strength-to-weight ratio of ants. At his current size, even with his enhanced capabilities, the swarm of insects that possessed superhuman characteristics themselves hardly seemed like a good time.

"Alright, come on then—" He challenged, raising his daggers as the army of ants closed in.

Rumbling met his ears from the dozens of legs that quickly crawled his way.

The wave of hostile insects filled his vision as he met them halfway, lunging forward while preparing to slash the first ant's head off before—

"Ah?—"

He found his vision rise before him, quickly transcending the soil and grass, leaving it at his feet. The rumbling of the swarm was gone as he looked down, seeing the puny specks on the soil dirt his boot.

"I'm back to normal…Good, that's good," he mumbled, breathing a sigh of relief as he stepped over the ants.

Able to see the region clearly now, he found the field leading to a peculiar row of flowers. It acted like naturally-formed walls guiding him on a path overlooked by the colorful petals.

It was all too colorful for him; glistening, pink flowers that swayed as though dancing; spiraling, cherry petals.

'This place feels straight out of a fairy tale…but it's off,' he thought.

The row of watchful flowers led him to a tucked-away clearing that housed a peculiar sight.

A single, quartz table sat in the center with somebody seated at the opposing seat.

The man with a strange smile with fluffy, orange hair and a tall, verdant hat atop his head drank from a cup.

Finn stood there for a moment, not sure if he was seen quite yet as he questioned if he should turn back—

"Greetings, visitor!"

Before the young man could replace a different path, he found himself greeted enthusiastically by the lonesome tea drinker.

"Take a seat, please," the snow-skinned man in the tall hat welcomed, gesturing for the guest to sit.

Finn was hesitant with just how peculiar the circumstances were, though obliged as he had questions he wanted answered.

As soon as he sat himself at the table amidst the towering flowers, he watched the stranger pour him a cup.

"Don't be shy. I like to think I'm quite the savant when it comes to brewing tea," the man in the patchwork suit insisted.

"Err…" Finn hesitated.

"How rude of me! I should give my name first, shouldn't I?" The strange figure gasped before placing his hand over his heart. "I am Hatter! And your name, good sir?"

"Finn. What's this place?" He returned an introduction promptly. "I'm still in the First Order, right?"

With questions placed on the table, he looked at the smiling Hatter who returned his gaze while resting his chin against his hands.

The lack of an answer made it obvious he wasn't going to get anything from the man until he accepted his tea.

"…Fine. I'll have a sip," Finn gave in, lifting the porcelain cup with a sigh.

Hatter clapped his hands together before raising his cup as well, "Delightful! I am always so glad to have a guest at my tea party. It is a shame I haven't had very many guests as of recent."

The tea that Finn drank was rather sweet, to the point of making him pucker his lips as it tasted more like sugar water than something brewed naturally.

He gave a look to the Hatter amidst his ramblings to signify he was more interested in what he initially asked.

"Ah—right, you wanted to know where you are!" Hatter recalled. "Well, you're at my tea party! Welcome!"

The answer given with such passion met with little fanfare from Finn as he didn't know whether or not the pale man was joking around or seriously believed that to be helpful.

"I know that…I mean, what is this whole–" Finn began to ask.

"How is the tea? I'm always open to feedback–no, I insist on receiving it! Too bitter? Ah, I always think so as well–here, I can add some more sugar for you!" Hatter spoke like a chatterbox, using a tablespoon with a mountaintop of flavoring to add to the guest's tea.

Finn quickly covered his cup, shaking his head, "Nope! No–it's definitely sweet enough, thank you."

"Is that so? Well, more for me then," Hatter shrugged before dumping the excessive amount of sugar into his cup instead.

It didn't seem like getting a straight answer from the hat-wearing tea drinker was an easy task as Finn watched the man happily sip down the overly sweetened beverage.

Hatter kept his cup to his mouth, gulping down the entirety of the tea before bringing his porcelain back down, "--Well, if you'd like an answer for your questions, I'd suggest going north from here, right down that burnt hill."

"What?" Finn asked, looking behind the tea drinker at what he was pointing out.

There was a portion of the tree line completely burned away, leaving a clear path of burnt soil and embers right in the middle of the peaceful clearing. It was completely off from the rather tranquil fields, yet it piqued his curiosity.

Hatter poured himself another helping of tea, "If you wish to leave this Wonderland, go down that path. It's not that far down really, just down the slope–that's all."

Seeing as he wasn't exactly receiving any helpful information from the tea-drinking man, he decided to take him up on his advice as he rose from his seat. He walked past the quaint table, taking slow steps towards that burnt hill.

The trees that bordered the path were devoid of leaves, blackened to a char. A scent of fire and smoke filled his nose as he stood atop the hill, looking down to replace it leading into a further ashen trail.

'Alright…I hope that guy is actually giving me helpful information for once,' he thought.

He slid down the steep slope, replaceing himself right in the midst of the burnt path.

The whimsical feeling of the strange land was gone as he felt an intense air while following the charred path. Embers gently glided in the air like snowflakes, clinging to the dead trees. Beneath his boots, the soil crunched and crumbled, devoid of any moisture.

He kept his eyes forward as the air flexed, once again experiencing a drippage from his nose. There was a stream of blood leaving his nostril, leaving him to wipe it off before continuing onward.

'…Just keep moving forward. I need to figure all of this out—I'm sick of being lost,' he resolved.

Past the ashen trees, he stumbled onto a land devoid of any features; a region of blackened soil, with no trees or signs of civilization in sight.

There was only one monument in sight; a jagged mountain that was tilted like a spear plunged into the world.

'He said I'd replace answers here. What did he mean—' He questioned.

As the thought crossed his mind, a massive silhouette arriving upon the jagged peak brought him to look up sharply. It was only out of the corner of his eye that he caught an initial glimpse, though the sheer magnitude of it made him flinch.

"Beware! My claws that snatch, my jaws that bite!"

A booming voice of inhuman cadence roared from the peak of the burnt mountain. Finn found the thunderous introduction to come from a perplexing beast that stood atop the tilted landmark.

Skin of charred stone; wings spread from its back, spanning with a dreadful shadow; a neck like that of a serpent with a mouth full of uneven teeth.

'What the hell is that thing…?' He wondered as his heart throttled in his chest.

One of its eyes kept shut by the presence of a sword jammed into it, with many blades, spears, and arrows lodged into its body, like the spines of a porcupine.

["Sleuth Status"]

[...Assessing information about [???]...]

[BOSS Identified: "The Jabberwock"] [Level: 100]