God Class, page 16
[Tired: Stamina regen -50%]
[Hungry: Health regen - 25%]
[Thirsty: Mana regen - 25%]
[Unclean: Merchant prices increased by +10%]
[Fracture: +15% damage when a fractured area takes a hit. Current fractures: Jaw, left ribs]
“Damn it…” Silas huffed under his breath.
The stamina regen was devastating, and the fracture would basically be a guaranteed critical hit for Imgul. All she had to do was land one or two of those blows and he was sure his health bar would plummet to zero. Then came the idea of actually trying to hurt the monster. [Shadow Jab] had proven itself to be useful, but whether it was three hits or twenty hits he did not think it would add up to that much damage, plus he couldn’t even reach her face and would be stuck slugging away body shots on a creature who was layered in muscle and fat like an armored truck. The only upside was that Imgul must have removed her armor before entering, and only wore basic linen clothing.
[Debuff gained, Feared. Feared: -2% movement speed]
“Well, that’s just great,” Silas said. “Just. Wonderful.”
“What’s great?” Rae asked, hobbling up to Silas and leaning heavily on his shoulder. “Life? Eh.” Rae rocked his hand from side to side and shrugged. “Guess that depends on time and place.”
“No, Rae,” Silas answered coldly. “That is just great,” he said and pointed toward Imgul.
“Oh... Oh! Oh no!” Rae perked up and stepped back, heaving up the old trainer and shaking him awake.
Tulk had dozed off entirely at some point, and the already scowling face somehow evolved into a new level of scowling the moment Rae began the wakeup call. The robed figured shook the Goblin and shouted at him until he finally rolled his eyes and yawned in response.
“Get off, Rat!” He growled. “Never wake an elder when they are sleeping!”
“Old man! What is Imgul doing in there?! You said round five would be ‘easy money!’”
Silas felt his shoulders drop a little at Rae’s comment. Instead of fearing for the absolute beating Silas was about to take, he was worried about the handful of scraps he would lose in a bet. At least Silas could dwell on the fact that Rae and Tulk had changed their betting to be on him for the last match, and if it was one he was capable of winning then maybe the two of them would have turned up rather wealthy with the odds being so against Silas. Well, wealthy by Goblin cave standards.
“Imgul?” Tulk answered, yawned, stretched, then gazed upon the commander in all of her immense glory. “Ah, yes. That is a problem.”
“You think?” Silas called back to them. “This is as one-sided as an already one-sided match could be.”
“Can he just forfeit?” Rae asked. “You did, so clearly he can too.”
Tulk shook his head. “Of course, I can forfeit, but he cannot. Now, that does not mean he cannot ask Imgul nicely to not beat him to death. But he still cannot forfeit entirely. Even if he tries, Imgul won’t listen to that.”
“Any other options, trainer? Advice?” Silas said, never removing his eyes from Imgul’s. “What would you do in this situation?”
“That is an easy one,” Tulk answered. “I would just win. But I have the combat experience and the knowledge on fighting one of their kind, something that has taken me years to cultivate and adapt to. If that isn’t good enough, I also wouldn’t face down a larger opponent without a weapon or some armor.”
Silas frowned and felt is stomach tense up in nervous anticipation. He could already feel his bones snap, hear as they crunched and cracked within his own skin. Silas could visualize all of the ways Imgul might beat him mercilessly, and how he would end up as their victory breakfast in the morning. If only he had [Morning Star], then he could do some real damage and escape all at once. Part of him even thought of his [Obliteration] move, but then he shoved it aside. Death had to be better than not existing at all.
“Wait a minute…” Tulk said, rubbing his chin and looking at skyward. “Maybe…”
Tulk looked to Imgul and began to shout something in the Goblin tongue. Imgul murmured back, and the two had a strange conversation back and forth that briefly seemed to grow hotter the more it went on before finally cooling off in a quieter series of head nods between them. Then, Tulk turned his gaze back to Silas.
“Alright, I have bought us ten minutes, Human. Let’s put my title to the test.”
With that, the trainer pulled Silas aside to show him how to truly fight back.
[You have been offered a Style by a unique ranked style trainer. Style: Dherlec tul’Daan. Type: Unarmed. Rank: Unique. Bonuses: +10% Evasion, +10% Physical Resistance, +10% Unarmed Combat Affinity, +5% Unarmed Combat Damage. Note, Deity’s may learn unlimited styles, but may only utilize two at a time]
[You have received an item: Tulk’s Hide Gauntlets]
[Tulk’s Hide Gauntlets. Armor Type: Leather. Level: Seven. Quality: Uncommon. Durability: 49/55. Piece: Hands. Attributes: +5% Unarmed Combat Affinity, +2% Physical Resistance, +5% Melee Damage]
Silas allowed his jaw to hang slack for a moment. He had no idea what the Style was or even how to utilize it but judging by the bonuses listed by his Helper it seemed like it was just what he needed as an edge. On top of that, the gauntlets were a huge perk considering he had been brawling bare fisted in a hospital gown since he arrived in this strange place. He quickly put together that the gauntlets must have been the item promised in his quest reward, and he accepted them from Tulk without further delay, slipping them on and flexing his fingers. The dark, oily brown leathers wrapped tightly around his knuckles, squelching as he moved his hand.
It was the Style offer that he had let linger for a moment. Tulk had seemed to be more on his side than the others, but that was not saying much considering he was mainly viewed as a meal. But for Tulk to offer him specific combat training seemed too good to be true.
“Well? We don’t have a lot of time, human. Do you want some quick training or not?”
Tulk’s gravelly voice snapped Silas back to reality and he looked down at the Goblin trainer.
“Yes… Yes, of course. Definitely. Thanks, Tulk,” Silas said, cautiously offering out a hand to shake.
Tulk swatted it away and got into a low stance. His knees were bent, one leg back for support while the other was braced in front of him, and he turned his body until his chest was center with his knee. He held both hands up as if in a boxing stance, elbows tucked near his body and hands held in loose fists. The trainer stumbled a bit and let out long heavy breaths, still well beyond the point of inebriation as he attempted his lesson in earnest.
Silas mirrored the stance. To the amusement of the Goblins around him, he stumbled the first couple of times as he tried to match the way Tulk stood; now he looked like the drunk one. The first time he had been much to firm in his stance, and the second he was far too relaxed. The trainer seemed to stand in the gray area between both, on edge and ready yet somehow relaxed with loose shoulders and unset hips. The roars of laughter continued as Silas awkwardly stood for his third try, then he grew visibly frustrated on the fourth. Tulk’s eyes narrowed on him, a modest mixture of anger, impatience, and disappointment. It was on that try, the fifth try, that Silas was able to slide into the stance in a way that earned a nod of acceptance from Tulk.
Then, the Goblin shot forward.
The old trainer’s speed was a blur, dust plumed from where his leading foot had been only a blink ago. By the time Silas could track his movements, Tulk had already had a closed fist a mere inch from his face. His knuckles hung in the air, and just when Silas thought he would take the hit full on, Tulk stepped back and reset himself as if the attack never happened.
“This is only the first action of Dherlec tul’Daan,” Tulk said, readying himself in the stance once more. “It is known as Haakaan Rhan, or the Pebble Bash. Of the five actions of Dherlec tul’Daan, this is the simplest to master yet the most devastating if in the right hands. A quick lunge, followed by a blow that steals the momentum built and releases it within the single attack. This is the one I believe will be best suited for you, Human.”
“Wow…” Silas said, and then recomposed himself into the stance again. His mind already wandered with the idea of parring that attack with his Shadow Jab for rapid damage. He almost drooled at the thought, though that could have just been his jaw still healing.
It wasn’t throwing fireballs or summoning demons, or pretty much any of the cooler parts of his gaming days. But these were skills he could utilize in the here and now, and ones that would not require the massive cooldown that his others seemed to. More and more, he was beginning to believe that he may stand a chance of surviving this place, and the thought of his upcoming match with Imgul exchanged some of the fear and anxiety with excitement. Silas still didn’t want to test the waters about the respawn concept here, just in case, but if he could learn more combat abilities, maybe a few good passives, and a healing spell, then he could truly become powerful.
Maybe even powerful enough to leave this cave system without waiting for Morning Star.
“Alright, Tulk,” Silas said with a bit more enthusiasm. “Show me that move again.”
“My pleasure,” Tulk said slowly, a faint grin cracking his face.
“Carp!”
The emperor’s voice bellowed down the stone corridors of his castle. It echoed, reverberating with a sense of power and command so crushing that even the insects and mice dared not stir. Footsteps knocked along lush velvet carpeting, blood red and unmarred by the passage of others, and everything seemed to boom around him with every movement forward.
Carp could feel his heart pounding in his throat as he collected his leather-bound journal and pen. He hastily snatched them from his bedside table, fumbling the pen until the fountain of ink rooster-tailed onto his hand and up his sleeve. If he had time, he would have sighed at his own unfortune, cleaning up and cursing those dead Gods for his luck. But the emperor had been calling for him, and the sounds of his boots were growing ever louder as they approached his small room.
The emperor had been gracious enough to not only make Carp his personal adviser, but to give him a warm home within the castle itself; more than most in the capital city Tartune would receive. Truth be told, it was not so much as a warm home as it was a cold, stone room once used for the former ruler’s personal mead storage, but Carp chose to see the way the sun cascaded over the clouds rather than the shade itself. After all, the room had been large enough for not only a bed, but a bedside table to house his journal and lantern, a small desk for filing and sorting the emperor’s many notes, deeds, accountings, and intercontinental trade embargos. Carp could even fit just enough clothing for a single week under his bed, leaving the floor clear enough for a single reading chair in case guests had come.
Guests had never come.
Carp trotted out of the room like a prized stallion. His arms held the journal and his pen, one arm still painted in ink, along with several completed scrolls for the emperor’s upcoming declarations of war against what little rebel hold-outs remained. Carp had thought the declarations amusing, because they had not even needed to be made, but the emperor enjoyed his theatrics; as did his people. Still, Carp had completed the final touches for his highness just as he was instructed, without question.
“Carp!” Rainier’s voice exploded like thunder just before the small, scrambling man turned the corner.
“My lord!” Carp answered, a trembling enthusiasm in his voice. He feigned a smile for the emperor, burying his fear in a shallow grave. “Apologies, sir. The war declarations on the Rebel Houses of Cilipe, Sonju, and Napent have been completed. If my lord wishes, I will begin drafts against the smaller factions without delay.”
Rainier looked over the lesser man with hollow eyes, letting the words pass by like a cool lakeside breeze.
“Ready my carriage,” Rainier commanded. “And, add a small contingent of guards along with a spare carriage. It is our day of offering, and I am in the mood to… claim my offerings from our local townships personally. I sense that there are things on the horizon that may not yet be seen, and we must prepare.”
“Very well, sir,” Carp answered with an audibly gulp. He scribbled down the order in his notebook, the leaking pen leaving behind long trails and ink bubbles in its wake. “And, for the declarations, sir?”
“What?” Rainier queried. Then, his face fell and his placed his plump hand to his forehead. “Ah, yes. The declarations. Seems rather… pointless now, does it not?”
Carp nodded his head rapidly in agreement. The purpling bags under his eyes felt betrayed after Carp had worked on the documents for the better part of a sleepless two days, but he agreed, nonetheless.
“Cilipe is leaderless and unbalanced. They fly in skies without direction, and they have not lashed out in some time,” Rainier said, then began to move forward down the corridor with Carp pacing just behind. “Like an old thorn, they will remove themselves from our sides before we need fear the spread of infection. The same may be said for the followers of Napent and their shoddy belief structure. They can hide in the Blighted Hills and wither just as all things do in such a place. By the time both names leave my lips again, they shall already be relics and nothing more.”
“And…” Carp paused and chose his words very carefully, even taking down Rainier’s own pompous ramblings in his notebook. “What of Red-Hand Sonju?”
“Red-Hand Sonju…” Rainier said slowly. He had tasted the words, savored them as one would a honey wine or salted potato; Carp’s stomach growled, and he cleared his throat to cover it up. “Fleet admiral of my forces at sea, and traitor to Galleon itself. No,” Rainier spit. “I am afraid people of his mindset tend to stay long after their welcome expires. But I have no doubts that I will relish in the sight of his death, which will be enacted by my own hands.”
“I meant of the declaration, sir,” Carp answered after allowing the emperor’s words to cook and cool. “But I have full confidence that you will see to his end personally, my Lord.”
Carp’s heart pounded in his throat. He knew that the emperor could most likely defeat Red Hand Sonju with little difficulty, but he also knew the emperor was a fickle being and quick to temper. He had not seen too many instances of Rainier’s madness, but he has heard the tales of what the man had done during the initial conquest. Entire towns and cities wiped out by… Well, by what some would call divine power. Then there were the rumors about the twin Gods that once ruled Galleon… Carp had tread carefully around his lord for this exact reason, and he worried that any word could be taken out of context. Perhaps his pushing of the declarations could be taken with malice, or maybe his tone, due to sleep deprivation, would relay annoyance instead of honest fatigue. For all Carp knew, fatigue itself could be met with contempt in the presence of a man who had crushed armies with nothing but his own power.
“Carp,” the emperor said and rolled his eyes, as if in boredom of the conversation. “Enough of the declarations. It was a fleeting idea of peace, something to simply pass the time while I crushed their forces one by one. Yet, I find that they are doing a fine job of detonating themselves without my hand even approaching their throats. We will offer no such declarations, Carp. When we strike, we will do so as the viper strikes the mouse. Let it fall from your mind.”
Rainier passed and pat Carp on the shoulder twice. Both taps had been friendly in nature, but the weight behind them was more immense than words could have ever been. It was a warning. Each gentle tap had practically been a whisper saying, ‘Stop questioning.’
Carp looked toward the floor, eyes heavy and ready for a long rest after hours lost to yet another useless task. He felt the weight of the declarations slide off of him like heavy snow on a thatched roof, yet now the much denser mass of purposelessness settled in its place. Before Carp could return to his small room for the sleep he had felt he deserved, the emperor called again.
“Why are you standing there, Carp? Ready the carriage and let us claim my offerings, come.”
He let the sigh escape his lips as silently as possible, then turned and trot behind the emperor, letting his dreams of dreaming melt before him.
“You… uh… You sure this is a good idea?”
Rae could barely stand as he swayed beside Silas. One filth-coated hand rested on the Deity’s shoulder while the other swept greasy hair from his own forehead. Hot breath rolled from his parted lips; the scent of high-proof-low-quality alcohol lingered in the air like a storm cloud. Silas sighed at his ringside team, with the drunk wanderer wobbling and wavering on one side while the only partially trustworthy Goblin trainer slowly sobered on the other.
“Yes, I am sure. Do not question Tulk!” Tulk barked back. “He is as good as he is going to get, Rat.”
Rae shrugged and turned his attention back to Silas. “Was not talking to him, but the crusty old fool does have a point. I suppose this is as good as you are going to get. Still…” Rae leaned in closer, nearly knocking Silas over before speaking in what he had assumed was a lowered voice. “Do you think you can trust one of them in a fight against their own kind? I know the guy, and he is alright in my books. And I know something about books; Did I mention I write the books here?” Rae unscrambled is rattling thoughts and continued. “I mean, he may have set you up for a big loss here.”
Now it was Silas’s turn to shrug. He kept on a confident expression, keeping his humming pain from the training off of his face; his opponent could utilize that knowledge against him, and he knew it. Silas shifted from foot to foot in a nervous jig that he pretended was the practice of a trained fighter attempting to loosen up. Yet, the nervous sweat trickling from his forehead and the rapid fluttering of his heart spoke to how he truly felt.
“Any port in a storm, right?” Silas answered, faking a sly grin.
Rae raised a brow. “What?”
“You know,” Silas said. “Any port in a storm. It’s a common phrase, meaning that any type of safety is acceptable in a bad situation.”
