Starred Tower: System Misinterpret Book One - A Post Apocalyptic Cultivation LitRPG

by Ryan DeBruyn

  “How grass-chewer know Gartuski?” The grunt comes from above me, and I snap my head up to find two hobgoblins on a moss-covered balcony that blends into the walls so well that I begin suspecting the moss has a camouflaging purpose. The hobgoblins themselves are only visible because they are leaning over the edge. “Does this mean bet off for if square-tooth die to trap floor?” the same goblin growls at his neighbor, who shrugs in response.

  “White-goblin know Gartuski. White-goblin Chief of Basement Tribe,” I respond to the question as simply as I can using my goblin name, which I take to mean Jeff when Mur says it. The look of scrutiny I get from the nearest hobgoblin calls into question the intelligence of all other Gartusk. It’s like the goblin is watching a rockslide coming from the bottom of the mountain.

  “Ugly white goblin? Flat teeth, but Net see pointy ear when Jeff look up.” I place a hand over my ear subconsciously. “We take to Chief of Tetanus Tribe, Chief decide,” the one nearest me on the ground says before pointing at my naginata. “Give weapon to Net.” After watching Net deliberate, rather stupidly, on my last statement, I make my naginata vanish into my subspace and look down at my hands before holding them wide.

  “What weapon, Net?” I question and see the goblin scratch its head in confusion.

  “Bet, Set, see weapon?” he asks and looks up to the two on the balcony. They shrug, and then Net shrugs. He comes forward to grab my elbow. “Chief White-goblin follow Net. Net know way through trap. Take Jeff to Chief Tet.” I can’t help but blink at the strangely similar names. They are a grunt or growl different from each other, and I feel like I am likely to mix them up.

  Net leads me through the ground level, and I don’t see any other hobgoblins until we reach a small green box of moss at the back of the building. The box has two openings on the side. One is clearly a door, and the other is like a window, but it opens into the building and makes little sense. Why would someone want a window looking into a large empty metal box? The window currently glows with a blue patina that tells me the dungeon boss portal is inside. In front of the room is a goblin sitting on a tree stump, which seems strange to me. This is definitely a hobgoblin dungeon.

  “Chief Tet, this Jeff, Chief of Basement Tribe. Jeff seek to help tribesman Mur,” Net says and then scampers to the side of the room, where he joins Bet and Set, who are descending nearby stairs. Only four of them, but one is a goblin?

  “Chief Tet, Jeff ask help,” I say hurriedly, still trying to figure out why the Chief is a goblin. Then I look through the door at the portal. Isn’t that where the boss is?

  “Ahh, I can see you wondering about tribe,” Tet says in the clearest Gartuski I have heard. It reminds me of conversations between the mercenaries and Leah. Each mercenary carried an accent. When put next to Leah’s cultured and sophisticated way of talking, they all seemed poorly educated. That is what Tet does with the language. He makes me aware of nuances I would have struggled to learn on my own. Did he refer to himself by something other than his name? Is that how you say I in Gartuski? Did he address me as you?

  “Yes, Chief Tet. How goblin lead hobgoblin?” I say, still unable to make the sounds I am now aware of.

  “Tetanus Tribe once bigger. Many goblin live here.” Tet opens his arms and stands. The goblin isn’t much older than the others, but he is definitely brighter, and since knowing Gartusk is a physical evolutionary trait, I am not sure to what degree this goblin’s intelligence has risen. “Tribe want to gain strength, so we go hunt in area, find Blood Fire. Feed Ancestral Spirit. We gain many member, send food through the portal, but lose member to hunt also.

  “One night, we run into Dire-Wolfkin hunting party. We fight hard against them, but only I survive. Tet lose my brothers, but more come from the portal. Each night we go out, we find Wolfkin. They kill more of us. One day, instead of many new goblin, Tet find one hobgoblin outside portal.” Tet scratches his head at this point and shrugs as if to say he doesn’t understand this. With my knowledge, thanks to Mur and Crash, I know. The dungeon increased in strength, and Tet is the last goblin alive. Does that mean the boss ranked up in the portal as well? After the Chief looks at Bet, Set, and Net, he turns back to me.

  “First hobgoblins die to Wolfkin too, but I learn. Wolfkin hunt at night. Now Tetanus Tribe hunt in day. Bet, Set, and Net follow me, and we live.” Tetanus slams his fist against his chest with pride, and I can’t help but be impressed. He has been alive for a long time—for a goblin, I guess—and even came up with a solution to the nearby B-rank dungeon. It does, of course, create a huge problem for me. If they don’t leave the dungeon at night, how will I get them to follow me?

  “Will Tet follow Jeff, help Jeff?” I ask the Chief as he walks around me, poking at my abdominals and then touching my arm and tutting strangely. Does that mean something?

  “Why skin white if you Gartusk Chief?” Tet says as he continues to poke and prod. He steps up onto his stump and moves my hair to look at my ears. I want to clap a hand to my head but fight the urge. “Pointy ear, but no pointy tooth. Why Tet follow white-goblin?”

  “I have better dungeon,” I say, using his trick to say a personal pronoun in the Gartuski language for the first time. I motion around us at their large warehouse, which is actually quite impressive, but pales in comparison to the Training Room. “My dungeon take hobgoblin and goblin inside portal, safe from attack. We can hunt at night. Don’t even need to hunt if you wish to work inside. Much benefit.” My throat feels slightly raw after that long speech, but I see the three hobgoblins perk up at my mention of a better, safer dungeon. Tet shakes his head and points to the boss portal.

  “What happen to boss if we leave?” Tet growls, and I shrug. I don’t actually have an answer for this, but I figure I can probably use the story from earlier.

  “Chief make more hobgoblin when brother die. Chief make more minion when leave.” It sounded plausible enough. It isn’t like I’ve ever heard of monsters leaving dungeons before, and I’m quite far into the ruins at the moment. Tet looks at his three tribesmen then at me.

  “Okay, we help in morning.”

  “Human destroy dungeon before morning!” I cry and see Tet’s face scrunch up as the real decision finally comes.

  Chapter 50

  September 7th, 151 AR

  Jeff Turle

  The Tetanus Tribe and I sneak through the night, approaching the Suburb as I desperately try to develop a plan. An earlier [Identify] tells me that the hobgoblins are all E-3 and that Tet is F-8. The problem I now face is that their strength may not be enough. Even Tet, who arguably is the smartest Gartusk I have met, can barely understand the concept of an ambush. So I’m waffling between a head-on smash attack or the same plan Darren and Jacque tried yesterday: luring out Ride or Die and fighting them farther from the house.

  Would the hobgoblins be better in a small space like the basement or out in the open? I think the basement is the best opportunity if we can get down there. Mainly because the portal to the Training Room is there. If we can get through that at any time during the combat, then all threats from Ride or Die are mostly void. Of course, getting through the rubble and down the stairs without alerting them seems impossible.

  I place Tet, Bet, Net, and Set behind the collapsed garage and move into the street behind the house. Or at least the side farther from Beach. It’s the middle of the night, and so the moon and stars are the only light to see by. I cross my fingers and hope for a few things. First, I wish for Ride or Die to be split up again. Second, that if anyone hears the sounds of battle, they will believe the hobgoblins are roaming monsters that chose to attack. Not that I specifically led them here. I finger my own pointy ears and close my eyes. I don’t need anyone knowing I have some connection to them. Could Leah really have had a relationship with a Gartusk? I honestly doubt it but simultaneously wouldn’t put it completely past the woman. . .

  “Tin,” I call, keeping my volume under control, not wanting to wake up the neighborhood. I knock on some timbers a
s well, thinking the sound will likely reach them if they’re in the basement. “I’ve come to make a trade.”

  Slow footsteps on the metal stairs answer my pronouncement, and I back away from the collapsed roof to wait for them in the broad street, closer to my hobgoblins. I still have two hundred and fifty drops of Sun qi circulating and another thirty-four around my Dantian or in it. I can probably sustain E-rank physical stats for about ten minutes of battle, maybe far less depending on injuries and the opponents.

  Tin is the first one to duck out from under the roof and enter the street. He looks around and then makes a motion behind him. Boyle and Esmerelda join him, but a fourth man stays in the shadows. His stature and build are so reminiscent of Markus that I know it’s the dagger-wielding psychopath. Still, the level of restraint Tin is imposing on him seems to contradict my belief. This is the same man that killed adventurers on a whim on that first day in Beach.

  “So you’ve come to your senses. I guess that saves us from having to go to court or destroy the thing. However, the deal’s changed. Our benefactors would like you to join them,” Tin whispers into the night, menace thick on every word. I take a deep breath, somehow still shocked by the level of depravity this group shows. Honestly, if I held any reservations about killing them, they’re gone.

  I pull out a smooth rock from my pocket and keep it palmed. The object isn’t strictly necessary, but I feel like having an actual physical item in my hand will make the lie appear more genuine. Do I try to bargain with them for a better deal? What would seem most reasonable in this situation?

  “Okay, but let me get a few of my things out of the subspace first,” I say instead, hoping they will let me enter the basement. I’m not sure how I would react in this situation because it’s surreal for me. How do I bargain for something that isn’t what they think it is?

  Tin smiles and moves forward, hand outstretched. This was the signal I gave Tet, and I hear a few grunted orders from behind the garage. Tin tilts his head, and two hobgoblins leap through the air to engage the humans in the middle of the street. An arrow thuds into Esmerelda’s stomach, and I hear air rush from her mouth as she crumples to the ground, down but not out of the fight entirely. I fill my muscles with qi and push forward myself, charging at Tin as I summon my naginata from my subspace and infuse it. Tin’s eyes fly wide, and he fakes a dodge right before moving left. I fall for the maneuver, and my thrusted naginata blade sails through empty space. I turn my wrists and slash at him, but he has his hammers in the way, and my qi-infused blade just pits the metal heads as my slash is directed away. I pull back my weapon and continue to circle. Tin examines the marks on his hammers and narrows his eyes at me as he mimics my circle.

  A scan tells me that the two hobgoblins are facing Boyle, and the man is holding them both at bay while simultaneously dodging arrows from the third.

  “You going to help us, Crusader Leech?” Tin calls out, and I take another step away from Tin, trying to figure out whom he is speaking with. I know Leech is the surname of Markus and Jamie. So Crusader Leech. . .

  “Nah, it’s just a hobgoblin ambush and a weak kid. If you can’t handle this, why should I let you have any of the money?” the shadowed man says in a voice I don’t recognize. The good news is that he isn’t coming to help, but the casual way he talks about the hobgoblins’ and my strength puts me on edge.

  “That’s true, little stinky fish,” Tin coos as he returns his full attention to me. “I think it’s time to cut off those goblin ears of yours!” he continues with a look at the nearby hobgoblins. Great, he’s come to the conclusion that I’m part monster now.

  I lunge forward and attempt another thrust at Tin with my naginata. He swings down with one hammer at my blade while the other hammer begins swinging up for the shaft of the weapon. I pull back my blow just in time to avoid both swings.

  “You really were talking to those goblins last time? Wow, you must feel awful about getting your little monster buddies killed, huh?” Tin says with a cackle as he continues circling me in what looks like a lazy stroll.

  I feel my muscles tighten, and I send a bit of qi to them. If I move faster, he won’t be able to deflect the blow. I lunge in again.

  Tin grins and performs the same crossing action with his hammers. I pull back, but my qi-powered momentum means I can’t reverse it fast enough. His upward swipe connects and ricochets the blade into the air. Damn it! Tin rushes into that opening, moving his hammers in circular patterns, likely meant to deflect any follow-up strikes. My inexperience with the naginata forces me to retreat as I try to rebalance the weapon and set my feet again. Tin closes the distance with an evil sneer. He raises one of the hammers and smiles—

  An arrow strikes him in the shoulder, and I watch as the glee changes to twisted pain. I jab my blade out again, and Tin is late to start a sidestep or deflecting strike. My blade tears open his other arm, and this time he cries out in pain as the flesh cauterizes.

  I hear Boyle shout something to Esmerelda and peek to see Tet over her crumpled body with a dagger. He plunges it down but is suddenly gone. Esmerelda didn’t move. I scan the area and find him hurtling away from her. Some unseen force had struck him hard.

  Boyle has numerous wounds but is managing to hold off the hobgoblins, if just barely. I need to finish off Tin and then go to help. Tin is on his knees, both hammers dangling from limp arms and what appear to be weakening hands. While I was torn on killing a person, Tin is a nightmare made flesh and deserves it! I aim my naginata at his throat and shoot out the two-foot blade in a final thrust.

  Something collides with my stomach, and what little I ate today surges up my throat and out my mouth as my knees collapse under me. Tin is smiling as he stands up, his arms moving easily. He tricked me?

  “You’re quite fast. Too bad you don’t have any spells. Until you can compress liquid at E-rank, you are just prey, smelly fish,” Tin crows as he begins raising his own hammers to finish me. I flood my muscles with qi till they vibrate and drown the nerves to block out the pain from Tin’s spell.

  I push off the bricks with all four of my limbs and gain about a foot of height under my knees. I barely get the balls of my feet under me and push off my toes back toward Tin, bringing my naginata down in a chopping slash from my right shoulder to my hip. Tin hasn’t reacted, and my eyes widen. He couldn’t have expected my burst of speed.

  His hammers have just started to come up when I feel the qi in my blade dig into his shoulder, shearing through bone. The edge continues into his chest, cutting into his heart, and his arms fall limply to his sides as his mouth falls open. Tin’s eyes widen. The man collapses to his knees. My grip loosens on the naginata. I’ve never killed a man before. . . No. I shake my head to clear it and regrip the weapon. The hobgoblins need my help. I begin to pull the blade free from the cauterized wound—

  Then I’m airborne, the naginata is no longer in my hands, and I am watching Tin’s kneeling corpse shrink. I tilt my head—what just happened? There is a man in red armor standing beside Tin and my naginata, and once the pain catches up to me, I realize he just shoulder-checked me in my chest.

  Blood fountains from my mouth as my lungs protest the violent crumpling of my sternum. Immediately, I divert my remaining qi to begin healing the damage and keep my heart beating. The blow from this new enemy was so devastating, I didn’t even notice hitting the ground. But I’m lying on my back, staring at the stars and trying to get a full breath into my lungs. And failing miserably.

  “Tet, get tribe inside,” I croak out in Gartuski with what little breath I have. I hope I can save the innocent Tetanus Tribe from this massive failure. Maybe they will take ownership of the Training Room after this ‘Crusader,’ whatever that is, kills me. I pull soup from my subspace and chug back the cold, congealed substance. It’s still better than nothing, I think, as I draw another one. I can feel my qi draining into my chest wound. In retrospect, Darren and Jacque were right. Someone powerful is behind Ride or Die. I found him.


  “You two, let’s grab the kid and get him inside,” the voice from earlier states, and I barely hear him over my own struggles to breathe.

  “He killed Tin, and he led monsters! We should kill the freak!” Esmerelda counters. Her voice was probably meant to be a whisper but came out closer to a shriek.

  “I don’t think so,” a voice says in a French accent, and despite my desperate need for oxygen, I hold my breath. Is Jacque here? Instead of another voice, I hear a loud zap, a few crackles, and some colliding weapons.

  “I’m a Crusader of the Church. You killed these people under my protection and attacked me?” the voice of the shadowed man croaks into the night. Then a stretching moment of silence. If I could move, I would try to see what is happening, but my chest is still healing.

  “All I see is a murdering psychopath picking on a child. He’s just a new cultivator, fresh to the world. Like my brother was. You don’t deserve to draw breath!” Jacque responds and a strange crackle jumps across my skin, raising the hair there, just before the sky splits with a boom.

  My eyes see white, but my ears slowly begin picking up a strange groaning wail. My eyes focus back in to find a red ball lighting up the sky and hovering above me. My eyes are filled with unshed tears thanks to the pain and the brightness, so I can’t tell who is dragging me across the ground. I can only hope it’s Jacque. . .

  “A Crusader? This group of murdering psychopaths was from the Church?” a heavily accented French voice says to the air. The figure lifts me up in a gentle front carry like I weigh nothing, and I hear his feet thump down the metal stairs toward the basement. Once there, he sets me against a wall in a seated position. Then he backs away to stare at me.