The darkness of the sewer junction was almost absolute, broken only by the faint, greasy sheen of the goblin's pale skin. Their chittering, wet eating sounds were a gruesome backdrop to Leo's silent preparations. He was a ghost in the mouth of the tunnel, a problem they didn't even know they had.
He couldn't just create a tidal wave out of nowhere. The sluice gate was the key. If he could open it, a torrent of backed-up sewage from a larger trunk line would pour into the junction. But getting to the control wheel, which was positioned on the wall directly above the feeding pack, was impossible. He needed to operate it from a distance.
This was a job for [Improvise Tool].
He crouched in the ankle-deep water, his mind sifting through his inventory. He had the rebar crowbar, duct tape, his new baton, and the grapple hook he'd made earlier with the trash-bag rope. The claw was strong, but the rope was too flimsy to turn a heavy, rusted iron wheel. He needed something rigid.
He reached into his inventory and pulled out one of the Large Skitterer Carapaces. He laid it flat in the murky water. Using the sharp edge of a Skitterer Forearm Claw as a cutting tool, he began scoring a deep line down the length of the carapace. It was slow, difficult work, but the monster-chitin was incredibly strong. After several minutes of patient sawing, he managed to snap off a long, thin, but exceptionally rigid shard of chitin, about six feet long. It was a perfect lever.
He then took his grappling hook, attached the chitin-lever to the claw with a copious amount of duct tape, creating a long, awkward-looking pole-arm with a hook on the end. It was ugly, but it would work.
The goblins were still distracted, fighting over the choicest bits of their meal. Now was the time.
Leo crept to the edge of the junction, his new tool held low. The wheel for the sluice gate was about thirty feet away. He extended the pole, the hook reaching out through the darkness. The pole was heavy, and controlling it at this distance was a challenge, but his enhanced stats made it possible. He carefully maneuvered the claw-hook until it snagged one of the spokes of the large iron wheel.
He planted his feet, took a deep breath, and pulled.
The wheel didn't budge. It was rusted solid. The goblins, startled by the faint scraping sound of the hook against the wheel, stopped their feeding. Their large, black eyes swiveled in his direction, trying to pierce the gloom. They couldn't see him, but they knew something was there. A low growl rumbled through the pack.
Leo's heart hammered against his ribs. He had one chance.
He ignored the growing snarls of the goblins and focused on the sluice gate wheel. He needed more leverage. A straight pull wasn't working. He needed to turn it.
His eyes fell on the deep, swirling pool of black water in the center of the room. A dangerous, brilliant idea sparked in his mind.
He activated [Mop Up].
He didn't target the whole pool. He targeted a specific point in the water, right at the edge of the deep section. With a focused thought, he pulled a massive volume of water out of the pool and held it in his metaphysical "bucket." The effect was instantaneous. The water level in that specific spot dropped dramatically, creating a powerful, localized whirlpool as the surrounding water rushed in to fill the void.
This current, strong and unseen, slammed into the submerged section of the goblin pack's feeding ground. Several of the goblins were knocked off their feet, swept into the deeper water with surprised yelps. The rest of the pack, now in a frenzy, screeched in rage and confusion, their attention completely diverted by their flailing comrades.
This was the distraction he needed.
While the goblins were in chaos, Leo put all his weight into the pole-arm again. This time, he didn't just pull. He walked in a slow arc, using his own body as the fulcrum to turn the entire pole, forcing the hooked wheel to rotate.
With a deep, groaning shriek of tortured metal, the wheel began to turn. One foot. Two feet.
A heavy, grinding sound echoed from behind the wall. The sluice gate was opening.
A trickle of foul-smelling water seeped from the seams of the gate. Then a stream. Then, with a final, shuddering BOOM, the gate gave way.
A solid wall of black, churning sewage erupted into the junction. It wasn't a wave; it was a hydraulic battering ram. The roar was deafening. The goblin pack, which had just turned to face the new noise, didn't even have time to scream. They were slammed by the torrent, their frail bodies smashed against the far wall and then swept away into the churning vortex of the central pool.
Leo, buffeted by the spray and the sheer force of the water hitting the opposite wall, held his ground in the relative safety of the side tunnel. He watched as the junction filled with a raging torrent of raw sewage, the bodies of the goblins vanishing into the filth.
[You have killed Lvl 6 Sewer Goblin. +150 XP.]
[You have killed Lvl 6 Sewer Goblin. +150 XP.]
[You have killed Lvl 6 Sewer Goblin. +150 XP.]
...x12
[XP Bonus awarded for multi-kill via environmental trap!]
[DING! YOU HAVE LEVELED UP!]
[You are now Level 6.]
[You have gained +5 unassigned Stat Points.]
The notifications were a sweet, satisfying balm after the sheer terror of the last few minutes. He'd wiped out an entire pack of higher-level monsters without taking a single point of damage. This was his element.
He quickly allocated his new points, putting three into WIS to further enhance his perception and skill-based attacks, and two into END to increase his survivability. His mana pool, which had been nearly drained by the massive [Mop Up], was instantly refilled.
After a few minutes, the initial surge of water subsided, leaving the junction flooded with waist-deep, churning, filthy water. The central pool was now just part of a larger, swirling lake. The path forward was blocked.
Leo sighed. Another problem.
He didn't want to swim through that. God only knew what was in it. He looked at the walls, at the ceiling. The sluice gate he'd opened was on the opposite side of the junction. He had to cross.
He spotted a series of thick, rusted maintenance pipes running along the wall, about eight feet off the ground—well above the new water level. It was a clear, if precarious, path.
He used his grapple-hook again, easily tossing the claw up and hooking it securely onto one of the pipes. He tested the rope. It held. He began to climb, his feet finding purchase on the slick brickwork, his upper body strength easily pulling him up.
He reached the pipes and began to sidle along, his back to the wall, his feet carefully placed on the narrow, curved surfaces. He was halfway across the junction, high above the disgusting soup he had created, when a movement in the water below caught his eye.
Something was rising from the center of the former pool.
It wasn't a goblin. It was huge. A pale, fleshy tentacle, as thick as his thigh, broke the surface of the water, then another, and another. They were followed by a bulbous, pulsating body the size of a small car. It had no eyes, no discernible features, except for a single, giant, vertically-oriented maw that opened in its center, revealing concentric rings of hooked teeth.
The System supplied the horrifying name.
[Lvl 10 Sewage Kraken (Miniature)]
[Traits: Apex Predator, Tunneler, Blind Sense, Tentacle Grapple.]
The goblins hadn't been the top of the food chain down here. They had just been the appetizers. The commotion, the fresh blood in the water—he had inadvertently rung the dinner bell for the sewer's alpha predator. And now, he was clinging to a rusty pipe directly above it.