God Class, page 13
“Oh, my dear sweet Captain,” Rainier called out between his fits of laughter. “When that day comes, you have my full consent to smear Alvara’s good name over my throne itself.”
Fianna paused her step for a moment, her fingers clenching and reaching for the sword once more. They trembled as they neared the hilt, her legs instinctively moved into a braced stance for battle. But it was for naught as she swallowed her pride and made her way out of the grand banquet hall.
“Pathetic!” H’Alik called out before she lashed a kick at Silas again. “Weak! Human!”
She punctuated each statement with a bone splitting strike. H’Alik’s kicks moved like swords, cutting the air and impacting right on their target. In this case, it was Silas. He was in the courtyard area again, surrounded by the scouts and commanders, as well as the cauldrons that still bubbled with various meats and root vegetables. Two large stakes had been driven into the cavern floor a few feet apart, and he had an arm and leg bound to each one which left him prone to attacks. The top half of his hospital gown had been torn away, leaving only tender exposed flesh that was covered in dirt, sweat, and speckles of blood.
[Congratulations! You have completed a personal quest, The God of Glass: Two. Twenty consecutive strikes have hit their mark. Even though dodging and blocking would be the better route, at least the world knows you can take a hit! Note, this is a personal quest and does not reward experience. Reward: Vitality +2, Physical resistance +5%]
Silas’s mind swam in the pain. The Goblin leader had punched him three times more before he had even been strung up, then kicked him in the ribs again while he was being brought up to the courtyard again. Despite his personal quest prompts claiming he was gaining physical resistance, each one had hurt more than the last. Every place she had struck throbbed in agonizing pain, as if he had been clobbered with baseball bats. It had been even worse when she landed a hit on the exact same place. He was not completely sure since his thoughts were so clouded, but he thought he had heard several of his own bones crack at the last hit.
He coughed up a wad of blood and it dribbled down his chin.
“I… I don’t understand… What…”
An open palm smack met his cheek as he spoke, the strike echoed out in the cavern loud enough to silence some of the louder scouts. Before he could speak again, the light green of her hand swept back to backhand him on the other cheek and sent a mist of spittle and blood puffing from his mouth. Silas breathed heavily, his chest rose and fell like an overheated golden retriever.
She cupped his chin in her palm, sharp nails digging into his cheeks, and she held his gaze with her own.
“I detest the comfort in which you feel in our home,” she said. “Your will to work is nonexistent, you speak as an equal to your betters. Human…” Her voice silkened and lowered, laced with poison. “Your only value lies in what you may provide for us, and that is what keeps you outside of my clan’s stomachs and cookpots. You requested time of us for your… powers to manifest. I granted such a boon, and now you have shown yourself to be another simple, sluggish human. And so, I have shortened our window. You will provide your ability for us by sunrise tomorrow, or you will sleep within our pots by sundown.”
“T... Ti…” Silas muttered, drooling and blood leaking from his lips.
“You dare speak?!” H’Alik barked and dropped his chin. Her face soured into a snarl; her eyes sharpened onto him. She pulled her arm back, elbow drawn to her back and fist balled with the palm facing the cavern ceiling. She screamed as she pushed it forward in an upward arc, colliding with Silas’s stomach and shoving the air from his lungs.
He gasped at the devastating blow, his eyes and mouth widening at the force behind her attack. Silas coughed, the scouts cackled and cheered around him as he struggled to suck in a new breath. It had felt like a cannonball had slammed into his guts, he even feared for a moment his organs would be regurgitated out. Tears fell uncontrollably at such pain, more blood laced his tongue and tasted of fresh iron. Silas heaved for breaths, hoarding them like they would escape again. H’Alik just stared at him with a sense of accomplishment.
[Congratulations! You have completed a personal quest, The God of Glass: Three. Your first critical strike! Well, on the receiving end that is. Note, this is a personal quest and does not reward experience. Reward: Vitality +3, Physical resistance +10%]
“Ti…” He said again, trying to piece together his words. What words were they again? He couldn’t even think straight enough to form them in his mind.
This time H’Alik could only smile. “Human, there is nothing to prove. Your bravado does not rally us as it would your kind. Save what few breaths you have remaining, you will need them should you fail us in the morning.” H’Alik raised an open hand, and the commanders came to her side. “Cut our guest free and drag him back to the other human.”
Silas still struggled to speak through ragged breaths, he could not even think of the word he wanted to say. It was all muscle memory for him now, he just had to force it out. The two commanders walked up beside him, cutting him down with the edge of haggard blades and letting him fall to the cavern floor. He collapsed the moment his feet touched the dirt and stone, his entire body folding until he was on his hands and knees desperately trying to keep himself from falling to the dirt. The two large Goblins reached down to heave him upwards but paused the moment he spoke.
“Tiramisu…” Silas panted.
A ripple formed across his skin, muscle and fatty tissue slithering and moving into place. H’Alik gasped and her commanders backed away with concerned looks written over their faces. They had heard what he had done to their brethren, and scouts had witnessed it. The Goblins all looked to one another with concern as Silas’s body shifted. It seemed to fill slightly more, and even grow. His body, thin and boney, had begun to form new layers of flesh. His chest grew just a bit more, his ribs now coated in a healthy layer of meat and his shoulder and arms became plump and rounded. Even his legs had filled out a bit more in the shortened time frame. It was as if Silas had somehow gained ten or so pounds of weight overnight, a healthy mixture of muscle and fat. He looked at himself the best he could, seeing that the gangly but somewhat athletic build he had gained since coming here had now formed into something else, something shockingly normal. It brought a smile to his face, and he sucked in another breath with just a bit of enjoyment. He may have still been a scrawny weakling, but he was at least getting a little stronger.
But that was not what worried the Goblin forces. It was his wounds, all of the bruises, cuts and swollen flesh. It was gone, replaced by someone almost fully healed. The fatigue remained, even the pain still remained somewhat, but the wounds were gone. He could almost feel their eyes searching him for signs of the inflicted damage. He almost laughed since he could very clearly still feel the wounds,
[Operation Tiramisu is now complete] Helper said. [Original health at 14%, health increased to 57% of max. You are no longer critically injured. New statistics uploading]
Name: Silas
Class: Deity
Worship: Not Available
Level: 9
Notoriety: Unknown
Strength: 31
Dexterity: 27
Vitality: 33
Intelligence: 29
Wisdom: 19
Luck: 2
Silas opened his eyes and let the new stats fly away. He only dwelt on the lost points for a few moments as he memorized his new stats. Those points could have gone to somewhere more combat oriented, seeing as how this new world seemed hellbent on beating him to a pulp, but he could not stress too much about it now. Silas had not realized his health had been so critically low, and he was guessing that H’Alik had not either. Unfortunately, he knew this was from being so frail to begin with compared to others around his age in this world; he thought about how he was weaker than a child when he first arrived and even now was barely registering at below average for a young adult.
He pushed himself upward, wobbling a bit before his new muscles held him in place. His shoulders rose high with each deep breath, sweat and blood dripped from his forehead and rolled down his chin. But Silas refused to back down. He could survive this; he could escape this. If he had ever needed courage in his life, it was right here and right now. Silas spit a wad of blood-tinged saliva at the cavern floor, drawing the attention of H’Alik.
“I’m…” Silas said, panting through his words. “I’m not pathetic. I can do this… you’ll see. You’ll all see…”
To his surprise, H’Alik did not become enraged or give him her standard sour expression. She instead paused and coiled the corners of her lips up into a smirk. Silas felt as though she may have had a newfound respect for him, or at the very least decided he was strong enough to keep around even if just until he could bestow his powers on her. They stared at one another, both with determination and power behind their glares.
“Well done, human,” H’Alik said with a demon’s grin. “I commend your fortitude. A foolish move, but brave none the less. Scouts!”
She twirled a finger in the air and looked around to the smaller Goblins.
“Make a circle, fan out. Please show our dear human why the Hiisi are a feared enemy of their kind, and when you are done you may throw his beaten body back in the human chamber. But none shall kill him. If he dies, the one who ended his life shall be tomorrow’s first meal!”
H’Alik turned to Silas and raised her hand with the palm out towards him and fingers spread. He could only glare back, composing himself enough to stand just a bit straighter.
“Five matches, human,” she said, the grin still marking her features as she turned away from him. “It is a rite of passage for our kind. If you stay conscious for five matches, you may indeed survive a bit longer.”
[Side Quest: A Gladiator Against Goblins. Objective: Remain conscious for five rounds of single combat against Goblins of the Charred Bone clan. Bonus objective: Defeat a minimum of two Goblins of the Charred Bone clan in unarmed combat. Rewards: Experience, Item. Bonus Reward: Additional Experience, Unique Item]
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Six
King of the Ring
“Alright…” Silas huffed. A thin trail of blood leaked from the corner of his mouth, which was quickly wiped away on the backside of his hand. “Round two, you little shits. Let’s do this.”
His first challenger had been a particularly small, yet wildly feisty, scout named Urrak. Barely the height of his hip, Urrak was a dark shade of green speckled with browning age spots and battle scars. A hook nose adorned in crude, iron rings, and patchwork leather armor that left little to the imagination; Silas had a tough time even concentrating in their fight due to the pointy Goblin nipples that eyed him throughout. Urrak had an ornate slingshot on one hip and a bag of spiked iron balls and jagged stone pieces on the other, showing that he was more of a ranged combatant.
Still, Silas had never been in a real schoolyard brawl before.
The small scout’s first strike was all knuckles and cheek; a haymaker that would have given Tyson a reason to applaud. The green of his fist flew in like a bullet, colliding with Silas and sending him floor bound. He had thought there would be a moment to shake it off and stand, but a gnarled, barefoot swung up and connected with his ribs. An audible Oof! popped out from his lips, which made the surrounding Goblins holler in laughter.
To Urrak’s credit, he didn’t boast. He just took a step back, folded his arms over his chest, and waited for Silas to rise back up. Much like other contact sports, the Goblins would count to ten in their nasty language before calling a match. Or at least it sounded like they were counting to ten.
The first time he fell, Silas was up at a seven count. The second he managed a five, but the third had been the effect of a brutal uppercut to the sternum that left him on his knees for the full ten.
“Dammit!” Silas grunted and staggered upward, just before making his challenge once more. He was quickly learning that he wasn’t a fan of this kind of fight, or maybe any kind of fighting, but he knew it was either fight back or be treated like a weakling.
And he wouldn’t be weak. Not anymore.
This time, Urrak sat out. The scout had won a match and would be rewarded by the hobgoblin leader, there was no reason for him to do it again. This disheartened Silas. He had been hoping to learn that particular scout’s movements and skills in the first round, then plan for a counter of his own in the second. He needed a win and needed to level up to buy himself some time to escape. Luckily it didn’t seem like he would need to outright kill anyone since he had benefited just from defeating the Forest Guardian, but that still meant he would need a real, undisputable win. He needed the experience. If he was even one point off, H’Alik would have his head for dinner.
Literally.
Plus, he could not give up a possible edge with the unique item. As of now, he only had a simple hospital garb that was barely holding on. The durability had hit single digits before the fight even began, and now it was more of a kilt than anything else. The torso had torn away mostly from the Morning Star, then the last threads on the shoulders gave out when he had come to the cave and started getting beat. Now it all hung down, leaving him bare chested with the scraps all tied around his waist from the thin hospital belt.
Fighting them naked may give an advantage if they were distracted, but he’d rather avoid that if he could.
“Well?” He questioned them, panting slowly as his health ticked upward from his slow, natural regen. “You all scared or something?”
He quickly learned they were not scared and were in fact arguing over who gets to go at him next.
“Shut up, human,” a voice that sounded like a crackling campfire called out. It was older, with that hint of rasp that could only come from age. “You will be beaten again soon enough.”
“How about you then, geezer?” Silas taunted.
He wasn’t truly brave, and his heart fluttered in his chest. But he knew they would not kill him, plus beating an older Scout shouldn’t be that hard. He needed to show these Goblins they couldn’t just push him around. Or eat him. Definitely not eat him.
“Geezer? I am not Geezer. I am Tulk!” The old scout practically coughed his words as he shoved through the ranks to meet Silas’s gaze. “And I will take your threat as a direct challenge. Now, back away! All of you!”
The crowd murmured, but ultimately had taken one or two steps back, widening their circle. The older Goblin was taller than the last and hefted oddly proportioned muscles under his wrinkled skin. His biceps were more like softballs hovering over thin bones, and his naked chest rippled with muscle sinew just above a potbelly. To Silas’s surprise, this scout removed what plate armor he had on his shoulders and waist, along with his boots and both of his swords. He kept on the leather cap and a shoddy piece of cloth for his private bits, but otherwise met Silas in similar attire.
“We are evenly matched now, Human,” Tulk cackled. “But, in clothing alone. I am the trainer of recruits. I have hammered combat into the minds and hearts of fierce and noble warriors of times long past, and I now mold these filthy, worthless wretches.” He waved a knobbed hand out to the crowd. “Each must meet with me before earning a weapon. You challenge no mere Goblin, scum. You challenge Tulk!”
Silas was impressed by this one’s comprehension of human language. He seemed to have been old enough to fully grasp humanity, or at least enough of it to hold a conversation. His mind then wandered to the idea of what a Goblin trainer actually did, but before it could linger Tulk was upon him.
The trainer was nearly silent, but for the slight grunts as he lashed out in a whirlwind of limbs and knuckles. A low kick came first, breaking Silas’s concentration as Tulk’s blow collided with his knee, bringing him to the ground once more. This time Silas refused to stay down, and quickly pushed himself upward just as the follow-up kick was inbound. The wind of the strike brushed over his skin, but Silas acted quickly and stepped backward just in time for a dodge. He would have been proud of himself if not for the jab that was incoming like a fastball. Another step back gave just enough leverage to avoid the hit, but the second rapid punch was just a little faster, colliding with Silas’s chin and giving him a mild case of whiplash.
[Congratulations! You have completed a personal quest, Lord of the Dodge: One. That last one almost hit you! The key word being almost. Note, this is a personal quest and does not reward experience. Reward: Dexterity +1, Evasion +10%]
Silas ignored the stupid personal quest. He had to. It had prompted him again during his first match to let him know he had completed The God of Glass: Four, which had earned him additional physical resistance, Vitality, and Strength this time. Up until that last strike from Tulk, he had not really felt like the stats were helping him all that much. He was up to 40% for his physical resistance stat, and nearly at 40 for his Vitality as well. His Strength was nothing to sneeze at either. Yet, it all still hurt like hell. He could see slivers of his health bar drop off more with every hit.
Despite the pain, slivers were all they were. Kicks and punches that had sent him to the cavern floor had not damaged him nearly as much as they should have, especially given the circumstances.
Another hit sent Silas tumbling down again. The resistance modifier kicked in and seemed to absorb most of the actual damage, keeping his haggard health bar at least somewhat clean, but the pain was just as upfront as ever. It swirled in his head, blocking him from regaining his faculties despite the knowledge that he was almost completely fine. He shook his head and stood up yet again, slowly becoming more agitated about constantly being tossed like a ragdoll by the little creatures. Tulk didn’t celebrate like his last opponent, which somehow stung even worse. Instead, the elder Goblin just eyed him like a champion boxer waiting on his opponent to get back up.
