God Class, page 15
“Should I have bet on you?” Rae chuckled to himself and raised his cup toward Silas. “You just admitted to losing pretty consistently, so I would say I made the safe bet!”
“Same here,” grunted Tulk.
“Look, I can understand him betting against me,” Silas gestured to Tulk. He winced after raising his arm, his beaten body still far from completely healed. “But how about a little damn human comradery here?”
“Woah, take it easy. I will have you know that is a bit speciest! Huh… is it? That is a thing, is it not?” Rae looked around, lost in his thoughts as usual, then raised a hand up in a sweeping motion and regained his composure. “Regardless, I am still cheering for you, Silas. But why not make a couple coppers for when I get out of here?”
The crowd around Rae seemed to cackle louder than they had previously, as if it were the funniest comment they had ever heard. Some even pointed, their potbellies heaving in and out while they laughed with open mouths. Tulk just sipped from his cup in silence, not feeding into either side of it. Rae glanced around, shrugged, and began to laugh with them. Silas could only look dumbfounded.
While the thought of it all being a dream had nearly slipped away, he still battled with what could possibly be happening. During the fight, his mind ran to the idea of some experimental gaming program. He had heard of companies trying to reach out with new, innovative ways to spread the flopping VR gaming market. As a child, he remembered most were simple headsets that left users feeling disoriented from the lack of mind-body connection. Then, the more prominent developers added in a deep-dive pod experience, putting players in a state of half-sleep that gave them almost all of the sensations of real gaming. Only that had the drawback of countless lawsuits from players losing track of time and dying in pods, or various malfunctions causing irreparable brain damage. Following that came the monitored facilities for deep-diving gamers where someone could rent a pod, but those proved to be far too expensive for the average consumer and even more costly to maintain operations. And thus, the gaming world was still all screens, controllers and keyboards with the exception of the elite few.
Silas could not possibly be one of those elite few. His mother simply couldn’t afford it, and no insurance in the world would take that gamble; he shuddered at the thought of the charity people who had continuously offered for him to meet random celebrities as long as he would agree to a photo op. Then there was the lack of messaging, lack of other gamers, or even a command menu. Just a strange voice in his head giving basic information, along with a world of suspiciously realistic NPC people who apparently did not also have his same abilities, or even similar ones.
“Next,” a scout gargled and shoved its way out from the crowd.
Wider, taller, and all around uglier, it forced its way up front and into the ring before the others had even finished their arguments. Its lower jaw protruded outward, showing a fence of jagged, rotted teeth that rose up past its top lip. Unlike Tulk, this one’s width came entirely from thick layers of fleshy fat that seemed to coat it like a suit of armor. Ropey, spiraling strands of hair poked out from its chin and the tops of its shoulders, and more of the trademark patchwork armor covered its legs and arms. It removed two large, wooden clubs from loops at its waist and placed them both down, all while its beady eyes hung over Silas.
“Karx,” Tulk said, and it came out as more of a sound than a name. “Slow, but powerful. Not much of a strategist, so do not expect counter attacks and fancy combat moves like the others. He will come for you with brute force. Agility will be your ally.”
Silas turned and raised an eyebrow toward the trainer. Tulk was already downing more of the strong hooch, with Rae beside him waving an empty cup in his direction.
“More advice before betting against me?” Silas asked.
Tulk nodded, gave Rae some more of the murky liquid from a large bottle, then Rae nodded too; Silas really didn’t like all of the nodding people here seemed to do. Each shoved more of the copper coins and iron bits toward the circling scout who had continued the rounds of collecting and distributing. Silas silently scoffed. These foul beings were enjoying his torment, even Rae was having the time of his life. If this was some magical game world that Silas had been uploaded in, then he was having a miserable run and wanted to log out already.
“K’zar! Gal ock taga!” The portly Goblin remarked and pointed a stubby finger at Silas, stomping the ground and snarling. “K’zar!”
“Rak a’rut, Karx,” Tulk answered with a shooing gesture. “Hatta ga kul, k’zar un sekt.”
“What’s happening?” Silas looked from one to the other. “What’s going on?”
“Not now, human,” Tulk barked. He rose up to his feet, swaying a bit but regaining his balance quickly. “Karx is attempting to begin the next match. I have warned him of his lack of patience.”
“K’zar! Tulk!” Karx spat, now challenging the trainer.
Tulk sauntered over, lightly shoving Silas aside as he made his way to the rings center. Karx did the same, heavy thuds following each step that sent faint shivers through the stone and dirt. The Goblin had to be twice the size of Tulk, and one of the largest scouts in the cavern. Not only was the size difference discouraging, but Tulk seemed far worse off in general. Eyes were glazed over, shoulders hung slack, and he wobbled from visible inebriation. Even the other scouts noticed, and quickly bets against the trainer begun circulating as more and more coins and iron exchanged hands. Tulk made it worse by hiccupping then taking a step back to sturdy himself, spilling a vomit of laughter from nearby scouts.
Karx had even cracked a disconcerting smirk.
Silas stepped away, inching closer to Rae who had stood up as well. He watched them both with a hint of fear for what carnage he would witness. Silas had no love for any of the creatures, but he didn’t totally hate Tulk so far. The older trainer was stubborn and frustrating, but he had thrown the match in front of his own kin then offered some insight into the opponents. It was far more kindness than Silas had witnessed of the creatures over the last two days dwelling with them.
The thought of two days spent with the Goblins reminded Silas that he had only one small meal in that time frame, and his stomach rumbled a bit in response.
“Ga!” Karx roared. He clobbered the ground between him and Tulk in several heavy steps, moving a little faster than Silas had expected.
The Goblin bore down on Tulk. Both arms raised high over his head, interlaced fingers creating a maul of flesh and knuckles that he began to swing downward just as the gap closed. The overhead strike fell quickly like a meteor descending on the old trainer, who barely flinched or moved at all, swaying left and right in a haze of grain alcohol. Then, just as the strike was connecting, Tulk lunged left in a blur.
Karx’s fists met air and pummeled into the ground, sending the husky Goblin in a face-plant. Tulk, not taking advantage of the fallen foe, took three wobbling steps back and waited for his opponent to rise. A bestial snarl rose up from the dirt as Karx shoved himself upward, widening his mouth for another deep roar of rage and pain. He regained his own stance and prepared for another attack on the trainer.
Instead, Tulk acted first. His speed was astounding, the trainer practically bounding from one foot to the next in a circle around the larger Goblin. Karx reacted by swinging his fists in a broad arc around him, spinning in a slow whirlwind with desperate attempts to hit Tulk that came up empty time and time again. The rage surmounted on the wrinkles of his face, more roaring and more empty blows followed. Tulk, however, seemed no worse despite the constant movement and speed.
Karx struck out again, missing the trainer a final time before giving into his fatigue and nearly falling to a knee right there. Tulk stopped his movements on a dime and spun on his heel, unleashing a powerful spinning back kick. His heel smashed Karx’s jaw with a pop that echoed throughout the chamber and set silence to a once ravenous crowd. Karx stepped back, eyes wide and body stiffening, before spilling onto the cavern floor completely unconscious.
“Slow,” Tulk said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder and he stepped by the downed opponent. “As I said.”
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Seven
Earned Titles
The fourth match was the closest Silas had come to an all-out victory.
A scrappy scout, whose name he did not catch, was chosen for his new match since Karx was down for the count. She had clearly been more of a ranged combatant, but her ability to dodge far outpaced his own, despite his evasion bonuses, and her speed kept him on his toes. Every punch hit hard and quick, but they had not chunked away at his health like others had. Silas had wanted to thank his physical resistance for it, but he knew that she also had not been as strong as the prior fighters. Still, there had been moments where he felt evenly matched and others where he was far outclassed.
She had released several rotating kicks, each one deftly dodged by Silas and countered when the option arose. He had also landed his improved [Shadow Jab], which Rae had seen for the first time and practically spit out his drink at. The three repetitive hits had knocked the scout down and she scrambled to regain her footing, while Silas composed himself for another counter and strike maneuver.
It had all been going well, until several minutes of constant high-cardio fighting wore down what little stamina Silas had. He had timed one dodge too slowly, his body feeling just slightly heavier than it had, causing a kick to land right in his sternum, winding him and leaving him wide open. She immediately unleashed a swarm of punches and kicks that each connected with their intended spots, shaving down Silas’s health bar until finally Tulk called the match.
Silas punched the dirt with all of his points of Strength before he lifted himself back up. He was so close that time, and with only one match left he was not confident that he could accomplish the bonus objective. Besides that, he was tired. Excruciatingly tired. His muscles burned from the excessive use, his legs felt numb, and he had phantom pains from the wounds that had long since healed. Covered in blood, dirt, and sweat, all he wanted was a shower, a meal, and to sleep for a full day. All of the things he had taken for granted while wasting away in a hospital bed.
He had meals brought in. Most he could not hold down or barely could taste at all, but they had been regular, and he had rarely been hungry anyway. As for a shower, he had to be bathed every other day by hospital staff, and sometimes he had been asleep during it, but it was still a chance to be clean. And just the thought of sleeping on the straw heap again made the hospital bed seem like a luxury item.
“One more match,” he muttered to himself as the gambling scout made his rounds collecting and handing out the currency for the final time. “You can do this… you can win this…”
He took the time to survey his most recent accomplishments from the last match and get a view on his stats.
[Congratulations! You have completed a personal quest, Lord of the Dodge: Three. Float like a butterfly! Sting like a… Well, butterfly, I guess? Note, this is a personal quest and does not reward experience. Reward: Dexterity +3, Evasion +10%]
[Congratulations! You have completed a personal quest, Unarmed Combat: Two. Is there a God of Punching? If not, there sure is about to be! Note, this is a personal quest and does not reward experience. Reward: Strength +2, Dexterity +2, Unarmed Combat +10 affinity]
[Congratulations! You have completed a personal quest, Unarmed Combat: Three. Wow! You have landed a total of 25 punches! Maybe try a kick or something. Note, this is a personal quest and does not reward experience. Reward: Strength +3, Dexterity +3, Unarmed Combat +10 affinity]
[Congratulations! You have completed the secret quest, The Bitter Taste of Defeat. By losing in three sanctioned fights within your first ten confrontations, you have proven yourself to be humble in the face of battle. Requirements: Lose three sanctioned fights in front of spectators within your first ten confrontations. Rewards: Item, Title]
[Title acquired: The Humble. Note, title passives may stack. This title awards the following passive bonuses: +25% chance to be awarded partial experience on defeat. +25% chance to not lower favor during a confrontation. +10% chance to receive small gifts upon a defeat]
Silas liked what he read behind the comfort of his closed eyes. The hovering gold text had started to feel nice after he began to see the gains of the personal quests and stat points. In his former life, whatever and wherever it was now, he had wished just to walk again or taste again. Now, he was doing it all on top of growing stronger at a pretty consistent rate. And while The Humble was not exactly a win, its passive bonuses more than made up for the embarrassment of his consistent losses. It seemed like each of the bonuses were solely around him losing, but if his first two days had taught him anything it was that he was not exactly a master of combat just yet anyway.
Next, he decided to skim his stats but also view his newest additions.
Name: Silas
Class: Deity
Worship: Not Available
Level: 9
Notoriety: Unknown
Strength: 37
Dexterity: 32
Vitality: 35
Intelligence: 29
Wisdom: 19
Luck: 2
Combat Affinity:
Unarmed + 30%
Evasion +30%
Resistances:
Physical + 35%
The fact that his physical stats were starting to dwarf his Intelligence and Wisdom was a bit alarming for him, but growth was still growth. He had worried about being a glass cannon early on anyway, but now he feared he was going too heavily on a tanky melee focused build. He almost smiled at the thought, he had already fallen right back into tabletop gaming ideals when he could die, or whatever this world’s equivalent to dying was, at any moment. Plus, he had little control over his stats due to the regular number of personal quests he was pummeled with. Eventually he would have to find a way to passively build Intelligence and Wisdom in the same way, but for right now they wouldn’t help regardless.
He was curious about his skills in general. [Shadow Jab] had unlocked with his Unarmed Combat proficiency, and he had mildly hoped another skill would prompt with more ranks gained. He was now rank three with nothing to show but an improved [Shadow Jab]. There had to be something else there, maybe an external source of some kind. He had played games before where the player required skill trainers to gain extra abilities and moves, or maybe there were tomes for that sort of thing. Given the different attacks the Goblins had used, it seemed like he could mimic them and hope it would prompt a new ability, but he doubted it could be that easy. If he had more time, he could possibly ask his Helper about it, but with his final match looming over him it just did not seem like the best way to spend the next few minutes. Plus, he needed to figure out why he did not get the item from the secret quest.
Silas opened his eyes, letting the golden letters and numbers dance away like dust in his vision.
“Alright,” he grunted and pushed up to his feet. He scanned his surroundings, looking for who his next opponent might be out of the literal dozens who practically fought each other just for the opportunity to fight him. Since no one stood out just yet, he turned and made his way to Rae and Tulk, who had finished the bottle and now were both on the verge of a nice drunken nap.
“Tulk,” Silas said as he approached. The trainer had one eye open and was hunched over a bit. “Tulk? Tulk! Hey! Wake up!”
“Wha…” Tulk muttered and yawned. He blinked up at Silas then sighed. “Oh, human. Did you win the final match yet?”
“What? No,” Silas answered, shaking his head. “It hasn’t even started yet. Are you that drunk?”
“Ha! Told you about your booze, ya old bastard,” Rae said with slurred speech punctuated in a chuckle. “Just cannot hold it like us humans. Look at him! Look at my young friend here!” Rae raised his arms out as if presenting Silas to the world like a carnival attraction. “Drunk as can be, but still standing and fighting.”
“I didn’t drink anything!” Silas barked. “You guys have been drinking while I have been getting my ass whooped!”
“Huh? Tulk said you won,” Rae murmured then shook Tulk beside him. “Hey! Old man! You said he would win! Lost all my damn coins on that one…”
“Get off of me, Rat,” Tulk grunted. “Said he would win the fifth match, he has not done the fifth match. Pay attention.”
“You didn’t know about the fifth match either!” Silas pressed his fingers to his temple, entirely too frustrated at the strangers, who were somehow him his corner yet betting against him all at once. “Rae, you should not have bet your money on me. I’ve lost every fight now, and clearly the trainer is too drunk to know I’ll lose the last fight too.”
“Ha!” Rae laughed and hiccupped. “We showed him!”
“What? No! We haven’t shown him anything!” Silas turned his back to them both, growing more enraged by the moment. It had been like talking to toddlers, except a near-middle-aged, possibly homeless toddler and an elderly Goblin toddler. He chose to instead focus on the upcoming fight since his only acquaintances were of little help at all.
That’s when he noticed the large, brawny commander slowly making his way through the crowd and toward the ring. Only a single one, and H’Alik was nowhere to be found. It could only mean one thing.
“Human…” the giant groaned as it broke through the ranks and into the ring. It hovered over him, blanketing him in its wide shadow. It stared down at Silas with the empty eyes of a stray dog searching for food scraps. There was indifference plastered over its face as it seemed to size him up. “Imgul will fight.”
Silas gulped cartoonishly. Only a handful of minutes ago he had barely stood toe-to-toe with a scout a quarter of Imgul’s size, and he had still lost that fight. Now, witnessing what had to be a three-hundred-pound difference between them, he felt any hope of victory drain away, along with any hope of actually surviving this encounter. Before he made any moves or spoke up, he checked on his debuffs.
