Ronan didn't want to allow the goblin shaman to finish casting its twisted spell, so he charged at the final goblin archer before the magic could take hold. As he kicked against the stone with shoes that had been reduced to little more than leather scraps, he put his free stat point into agility and felt a gentle constriction in every muscle he possessed.
He still hadn't grown used to the feeling of his body being twisted and empowered by the unknown power of the system. Maybe he never would.
All he knew was that if it gave him the strength to live through another one of these fucked up tutorial stages and send Keith to the grave with the corpses of his killers, he would let the system do whatever it wanted to him.
He was a single step away from the archer when the shaman smashed its bone staff into the ground. The air itself rippled as a force unlike anything Ronan had felt crackled from its chest.
Burnt flesh and singed hairs burnt in the back of his throat, crawled into his sinuses, and scratched at the inside of his ears. He felt as if he was strung up inside the smokehouse of a cannibal.
Gory violence and bloodshed hadn't fazed Ronan. If anything, it excited him. More than a boring life of optimizing spreadsheets and making money for rich old men.
The stench of burning flesh and the sight of the lesser goblin's body twisting as it was transformed into a hideous abomination of flesh made him pause. Only for a breath, but that was enough time for the shaman to rush forward and clock him in the side of the head with the heavy skull at the end of its staff.
Stars danced in the dimly lit dungeon. Ronan stumbled sideways, the edges of his vision falling under a crimson haze as though a curtain of blood and darkness was being pulled across his eyes.
You have been hit by [Goblin Shaman Lv.10]!
Critical hit! You are stunned for 1.1 seconds
-46 Health [Smashing]
You are [Bleeding]!
-7 Health / second
You are [Concussed]!
-11% Agility
It was the single largest damage notification the system had shoved in Ronan's face since it ripped him from his office and threw him into hell. He tried to move his legs, but they wouldn't budge.
His mind felt as though it was at the bottom of an endless ocean while his limbs were submerged in tar. With a sudden gasp he felt like a diver breaching the surface as the stun wore off.
A third of his health gone in a single blow. The ground shook. An earthquake!? The shaman thrust its staff at him, but he weaved around the clumsy attempt and grabbed the bone haft with his free hand.
The goblin buckler was cracked and plastered in goblin gore, but it wasn't broken yet. He yanked on the staff and the shaman tripped on its cloak as it fell forward.
They were sinister foes when they had room to work their trickery and vile voodoo, but up close and personal they fell like flies. The iron cap made a dull clang as it broke the shaman's skull.
Even with a smashed brain it clung to life. A quick death would've been painless. That was too merciful for these monsters. Ronan ripped the staff from its limp clutches and grasped it in both hands, raising it above his head as the shaman tried to crawl away.
With a grunt of exertion he brought the skull down on the shaman's spine. It snapped from his heavy blow, along with the staff that dealt it.
Clutching the broken half of the staff in his shield hand, Ronan roared and plunged it into the back of the shaman's neck. Its face smashed into the stone tiles with a final thud as the familiar chime of the system rang in his ears.
With the bastard shaman that gave him so much trouble finally dead, Ronan turned to face the monstrosity that the archer had become. This would be his greatest challenge yet.
Leveling up had purged the many stacks of curse of slowness, but he felt lethargic from his concussion. Already he was bleeding away, the timer set on his life. He ignored the gathering notifications, willing them to vanish. He wanted to immerse himself in this moment.
Instead of a little goblin that shrunk at the ferocity of a charging six-foot-one man, he found a swollen, gnarled, hulk of green flesh towering over him. Its hideous, stinking body was littered with bulbous warts and it wheezed like an asthmatic donkey with every stolen breath.
This was no longer a lesser goblin archer. Ronan didn't think the monstrous beast could be considered a 'lesser' anything. He would kill it, whatever it had become.
[Zombified Goblin Fleshbeast Lv.13]
Zombified? Ronan wondered to himself. It wasn't dead though? That was when he realised that all the other goblin corpses around them were gone, apart from the shaman he'd just brutalised.
Going from minor buffs and debuffs to necromancy is a bit of a leap, don't you think, system!? he cursed internally. Ronan glanced at his resources, taking stock of his condition before he began his final battle.
Health: 73/140
Stamina: 126/170
Unlike health and stamina, mental exhaustion wasn't removed when one leveled up. Ronan felt as if he would collapse on his feet at any moment, but there was only one last obstacle between him and victory.
Until the next stage of the tutorial, anyway. However, he would face that when it arrived. All he had were his fists and a cracked buckler. It was enough to bring down the devil himself and it would be plenty for this twisted abomination of goblin corpses.
It lurched forward, a staggering step without grace. Ronan wasn't even sure if it could see him through the bundles of fat and flesh that sprawled outwards like a rotten tide.
Unlike the agile and annoying goblins he'd faced so far, this monster was slow. He grinned, flashing blood red gums. A big, slow bastard wouldn't be able to dodge his blows.
Ronan charged, pressing his shoulder into the wooden buckler as he held it against his side. He smashed into the towering fleshbeast, but found himself stuck.
The damned thing was as sturdy as it was ugly. Ronan wasn't dissuaded and he pulled back the shield before smashing it against the rippling flesh once again. And again.
He landed five heavy strikes that barely left a bruise before it raised and smashed down a twisted limb against his head.
Dodging the slow, twisted limb was easy. Ronan ducked under it and drew back his fist. The hideous squelch and the feeling of sticky pus drenching his knuckles made his gut churn. The disgust wasn't heavier than his rage, so he kept punching until something burst and another heavy strike fell his way.
He fell into a monotonous rhythm. Blow after blow he tore away rotting goblin flesh. It fell in steaming chunks against the stone tiles under his feet as he ducked and weaved under its lumbering blows.
Ten seconds into the battle, he struck a soft, fleshy sac that felt nothing like the putrid muscle and skin he'd been ripping into thus far. As his knuckles pierced the surface, hot, warm liquid splashed against them.
Ronan yanked his arm back with a wince as he felt a burning itch spreading through his knuckles. Shit, was that its stomach!?
He ripped his arm out of the hulking mass of flesh, but he'd been too focused on saving himself from the burning acid to notice the swinging arm. The fleshbeast's strike slammed into his shoulder and he was blown to the side.
The wind was sucked from his lungs as he crashed into the stone brick walls. It hadn't been a critical hit, yet it did more damage than the shaman's blow to his temple.
Health: 22/140
There was no bleeding this time, but that didn't fill him with hope. He had a little over three seconds to win, but he wasn't sure he could do it.
While the zombified goblin archer was an easy target, it would take more than a few blows to fell its hulking mass. Even so, he wouldn't give in until his final gasping breath was drawn from his lips.
With renewed vigour, Ronan fell upon his foe. His fist felt as if it had been lit aflame. The acid had already burnt through his skin and muscle to reveal his knuckle bones.
Even so, he pulled back his arm and smashed it into the creature, uncaring what it hit. What did a bit of acid matter? If he could kill this wretched abomination it might bring him another level up and reverse any damage his body took during the battle.
That thought fuelled him as he pounded his fists and his shield against the creature. Slowly but surely it was slowing. No longer did it tower over him. With a roar, his heel cracked against bone and its leg crumbled underneath its own weight.
For the first time since the shaman's twisted magic took hold, he found himself staring into the lesser goblin's eyes. They were dull and glazed over like a corpse's.
"This one's for Keith. He was a shit bloke, but a good mate," said Ronan as he pulled out a bone staff from his inventory and slammed the thick end into the monster's head.