This Class is Bonkers! (This Trilogy is Broken (A Comedy Litrpg Adventure) Book 2)

by J. P. Valentine

  On the next day, they managed five kills.

  The bursts of quick and relatively easy exp were exhilarating, even as the task of taking down a skyswallower grew more and more repetitive. The main bottlenecks, Eve found, were the long process of luring one away from the herd, and the even longer process of consuming a meal’s worth of cave mushrooms and seared meat to refill her Mana between each kill.

  She could eat while Wes fetched the next target, but they all had to stick together while they harvested each kill. Splitting up to multitask in such thick fog was far too dangerous a proposition. At least Wes’s method of finishing off the beasts didn’t leave much butchering to do, and with every monster they felled the party further optimized the task of claiming the spoils.

  That only left the problem of the chase. Confident as she was in her ability to hit a moving target, Eve knew it was only a matter of time before one escaped. A bit of math told her she’d need to kill nearly two hundred of the things to reach level fifty. Two hundred was a lot of opportunities to slip up.

  It wasn’t until the third day of their hunt, when she hit level forty-two, that a solution presented itself.

  Ability Upgraded!

  Active Ability - Mana Burst

  Shape the blast to your will.

  While the others slept, Eve spent the night practicing with Mana Manipulation to reshape the spell into a concentrated spike, and several hours blasting the cliffside to work out the proper balance between it and Mana Rush. The skill was useless if it left no Mana behind for a melee strike. By the dawn of the fourth day, she was ready to try it out.

  The strategy itself was simple enough—take out two legs at once so the skyswallower couldn’t run away—in practice, not so much. It took Eve three attempts to actually hit both attacks at the same time, leading to a few high-speed chases pressuring her already depleted Mana pool. She called it a night when it dipped into the single digits. Such a close call was enough for one day.

  When Eve finally managed the technique, it worked like a charm. She’d spent enough time butchering skyswallowers to know exactly where to strike to sever the tendons in its leg, and while the act still required an excess of force to get through the thick hide, she had firepower to spare.

  Quicker takedowns meant she still had time on her Mana Rush to finish each kill herself, leaving the corpses—minus whichever section she crushed with her mace—far more intact than Wes’s method. The fire mage didn’t enjoy being relegated just to bait duty, but even Wes had to admit that charred meat didn’t taste particularly good.

  With the change in tactics, Drathis even insisted on tagging along, citing an interest in the membrane the skyswallowers used to filter their food from the air. Eve had no idea what the Scavenger planned for the soft tissue, but as long as she didn’t have to crawl into their mouths to cut it out, she didn’t mind.

  The days drifted by and the levels rolled in, quickly at first but petering out as exp costs grew and level differences shrank. Eve watched with glee as her stats climbed and her skills upgraded, grateful for every ounce of power she gathered. They’d need it.

  Some nights she slept in Drathis’s cave, keeping her distance from Wes and Preston to allow them some semblance of privacy. Others, she trained. Manahearts, as she discovered, did in fact need sleep, just significantly less than the clearly inferior humans.

  Eve whiled away the lonely hours training, planning, and letting her thoughts wander. More than once as she sat against the lush cavern wall did she let out a quiet chuckle upon the realization she was daydreaming in the middle of the night, thus rekindling the tired internal debate she had over the word’s true meaning.

  Eve favored the idea that daydreaming was daydreaming regardless of the time, but the other side had some compelling arguments. That other side was, of course, also Eve, but more pedantic.

  In the end, she settled on ‘fantasizing.’

  The Striker couldn’t help but imagine the world of possibilities she stood to face upon reaching level fifty. Since her last promotion, she’d battled a drake, met two incredibly high-level humans, cleared two dungeons, survived the poison mists of the Dead Fields, and slaughtered scores of skyswallowers well above her own level. Come tier four, she was bound to have some interesting options.

  Most of her daydreams, however, revolved around manaheart. Of all her achievements, changing her race to something completely novel had to be the most impactful. Hells, it even fit in with the theme of her current class. Shatterfate Striker seemed to be all about rejecting the hand one was dealt; if a race change didn’t qualify as that, she couldn’t fathom what did.

  The subject of her unique physiology reminded Eve of another mystery: her secondary quest. Becoming a manaheart hadn’t been the end of it, but the current description proved less than useful.

  Stage Three: Discover their Legacy.

  She assumed ‘they’ were the Burendians, which left her the options of tracking down a scholar who might know more, or just exploring more ruins and hoping to find something useful. Neither, of course, was possible while they were stuck in the Dead Fields.

  In contrast, she’d completely given up on her life quest. It seemed, at this point, less of a goal worth pursuing and more of a tool to gain huge chunks of exp every once in a while. At least, it had been.

  With all the grinding she’d been doing, her exp requirements were rapidly outgrowing her milestone rewards. It was one of two reasons most adventurers avoided the tactic. The other was achievements. As impressive as her next promotion was sure to be, spending ten levels doing the same thing over and over again did little to contribute.

  Once she’d exhausted all thoughts of classes and levels and quests, Eve’s thoughts turned towards home. As autumn rolled in, Nowherested must’ve been just gearing up for harvest. Eve could practically hear the hustle and bustle of the small town as everyone rushed to fix up their wagons and tools before reaping day.

  She missed the little village. She missed her mother. She missed the stars.

  Days turned to weeks torn between the stale air of Drathis’s cave and the oppressive fog of the fields outside. There was a comfort in the repetitive tasks, a sense of structure Eve hadn’t experienced since she’d first embarked on this grand adventure. It reminded her of home.

  Three times over the course of the month and half they spent whittling away at the skyswallower herd did the adventurers face a greater threat. The pattern was the same each time.

  Reginald would hear or smell or taste—Eve wasn’t quite sure how the hatchling’s senses worked—something in the distance, warning Preston through whatever connection they shared. The glorified veterinarian would then usher the party away from their work butchering the latest felled beast just in time for a horrific series of rips and crunches to follow them through the mist.

  Eve never laid eyes on whichever creature so stole their kills, but she was happy to give up a fresh carcass here and there, as long as the thing never laid eyes on them.

  She was almost grateful for the mystery predator. It kept them on their toes, never letting them forget where they hunted. The Dead Fields was no place for tier 3s, and every day they spent here could be their last.

  Still, Eve had to admit that maybe the exp was worth the risk. Slow going as it might’ve been compared to those early days of fighting wolves and earning several levels from a single milestone, the adventures each racked up millions of experience points in exchange for the ongoing danger of a painful death.

  Six weeks, three days, and precisely nine levels since the start of their grind, that danger reared its ugly head once more. Grinding to level forty-nine, training countless hours through the cold nights, unlocking upgrades to Jet, Mana Rush, Charge!, and every other skill in her arsenal were all well and good, but they were but stepping stones on the way to tier 4.

  None of that would save her against a griffin.

  * * *

  Evelia Greene

  Manaheart

 
Level 49 Shatterfate Striker

  Exp: 418015/453608

  Health: 1159/1160

  Stamina: 0/0

  Mana: 4491/4500

  Constitution:116

  Mana Density: 450

  Intelligence: 12

  Dexterity: 140

  Strength: 174

  Spirit: 0

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Last Resort

  EVE SWALLOWED HER mouthful of skyswallower steak, barely tasting the juicy morsel as she watched her Mana bar slowly replenish. She had to give Wes credit: He’d really stepped up his cooking skills since their arrival in the Dead Fields. She supposed cooking the same meal over and over again made it easy, just as eating the same meal over and over again robbed it of its luster.

  Even a master chef couldn’t make a meal taste good the hundredth time. She took another bite, grimacing at the necessity of it. The fifteen hundred Mana she’d gained over the past six weeks left her with a good supply even after their most recent kill, but it was always best to top up before reentering combat.

  Wes sat beside her, enjoying his own lunch while Drathis went about harvesting the filter membrane from their latest hunt. Eve still hadn’t a clue what the rat-man was doing with them, but he’d gathered well over a hundred of the slimy organs so far.

  A bit away from the fallen skyswallower, Preston threw a chewed-up bone into the mist, prompting Reginald to run after it, his spiked tail wagging enthusiastically.

  Of all of them, the drake had changed the most. Over the course of a dozen levels or so, Reginald had grown to the size of a large dog, a fact the hatchling still struggled to accept—he kept trying to jump into Preston’s arms, failing to realize he was too big for such behavior. Preston didn’t seem to mind.

  Eve finished her midday meal, pushing herself to her feet just in time for the lithe Caretaker to let out a cry of warning.

  “Something’s wrong!” Preston shouted. “Reginald says—”

  His words drowned in a crash of wind. From the mist above, a dark figure dove, landing hard atop the fallen skyswallower. An avian screech resounded through the air.

  Level ??? Ironclaw Griffin

  Panic raced through Eve’s mind as she Appraised the familiar creature, one she’d seen from a mile away all those weeks ago.

  They weren’t ready. Not for this.

  The beast sank its foot-long metallic claws into the carcass, releasing another birdlike roar at the gathered adventurers. It made no move to advance.

  “It’s okay,” Preston said, his voice calming and level despite the rising tension, “griffins are scavengers, remember? It just wants the skyswallower.”

  Eve nodded, taking a careful step back. No sudden moves, she reminded herself. Wes followed suit.

  The griffin shrieked again, batting its forty-foot wingspan as it readied itself to take off.

  “It’s leaving,” Wes muttered. “We’re going to be okay.”

  For a brief second, Eve allowed her pounding heart to hesitantly calm as the griffin geared up to leave.

  Then she noticed the wormlike hairless tail jutting from the dead beast’s mouth. Her heart leapt to her throat.

  Drathis!

  Drathis ran.

  The griffin darted forward, snapping its deadly beak at the fleeing rat. It found only air.

  Adrenaline coursing through her, Eve made the all too familiar call.

  “Run!”

  The adventurers burst into action, following Drathis’s four-legged form through the fog. Only the rhythmic gusts of forceful wind told of the griffin’s flight.

  Eve didn’t Charge!, limiting her pace to keep behind the others. At the party’s back, she’d be the most likely target, ready to Jet away should the creature strike.

  It didn’t.

  Agonizing seconds passed as they raced through the mist, the adventurers growing with every step more hopeful they’d escaped pursuit and more uncertain of the beast’s location. The bursts of wing-swept air ceased.

  The griffin dove.

  Whether it aimed for the first target it saw or its feline half biased it towards the rodent, the beast shot through the air directly for Drathis.

  It found a face full of fire.

  Wes’s spell washed across the alabaster eagle feathers, a cascade of raging hellfire intent on consuming all in its path.

  The griffin barely even blinked.

  Eve wondered if the attack had dealt even a single point of damage. It probably hadn’t. Regardless of the rarity of his class or the fearsomeness of the Devouring Flame, Wes couldn’t face the strength of sheer levels. A terrible idea clung to the back of Eve’s mind at the thought, one she’d hoped to never use. If Wes couldn’t overcome the level difference, perhaps she could. She drew her mace.

  At least the brilliance of the inferno had blinded the creature long enough for Drathis to dodge its strike. The spell had worked.

  Until, instead of returning to the sky for another dive, the griffin turned its eye on Wes.

  With a single beat of its powerful wings, it rocketed towards the muscular fire mage, swiping at his chest with brutal claws. The blow landed.

  “Wes!” Preston cried as the Disciple flew through the air, landing hard on the dry earth. He stopped in his tracks, turning back to dart to Wes’s side. By the time Eve could scream at him to run, he was already on his knees channeling healing magic into the fallen mage.

  The griffin lowered itself to the ground, running on four legs toward the desperate couple.

  Eve Charged!

  By the time she’d taken her second step, Eve had already made her choice. The beast was going to kill them both. Even if Preston managed to heal Wes in time, the pair had neither the speed nor the firepower to stop a charging griffin.

  Eve did.

  The decision came surprisingly easily. Even as her heart pounded and adrenaline pumped, her mind flowed clearly. Four thousand, two hundred Mana, split in three to give enough time to strike leaves fourteen hundred. The timing was going to be tight. She’d only have three seconds to land a lethal blow, and after that… well, it didn’t matter. If she didn’t stop it now, her friends would die, and there was no guarantee the griffin would stop at them.

  The beast drew nearer.

  Eve pulled back her mace.

  The griffin opened its beak.

  She activated Mana Rush. Instantly, a third of her Mana disappeared as her body coursed with over thirty thousand Strength.

  Eve took her swing.

  Weapon and skull alike shattered under the force of the blow, sending shards of steel and bone into the soft tissue beneath.

  The griffin fell.

  A cascade of notifications exploded in Eve’s vision. She dismissed them all. They didn’t matter. Another third of her Mana drained away, spent on an ability she couldn’t cancel. She knew what awaited her when it hit zero. It felt pointless. All this effort for such an abrupt end. Maybe it was worth it. Her friends were safe.

  As the final second she’d allowed herself ticked by, Eve flipped up her class menu. She’d put in the work after all, she could at least die a tier 4. If only she’d had time to read the options.

  She scrolled straight to the bottom.

  The final points vanished from her Mana pool.

  Eve slammed the upgrade button.

  And it all went black.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The Defiant

  EVE AWOKE TO a world of blue.

  Notifications stacked upon notifications crowded her vision, shining their unnatural azure light directly into her eyes. Her eyes shined back.

  “She’s awake!” Wes’s voice echoed through the misty air as he caught sight of Eve’s Mana-glow.

  There was a patter of hurried footsteps before a gentle hand landed on Eve’s shoulder. Preston’s. “How are you feeling?”

  Everything hurt. A deep resounding soreness ached through her arms and back, culminating in sharp spikes of pain with every twitch of her fingers. She groaned.
<
br />   “Figures,” the healer replied. “You really did a number on yourself. Manaheart or otherwise, you did not have enough Constitution to handle all that Strength.”

  Eve blinked, the wall of notifications still blocking her vision of the former Priestess.

  “Bones and tendons can only take so much stress,” Preston explained. “Your body basically tore itself apart, not to mention all the shrapnel in your hands. I healed you up as best I could, but even I have limits. Your natural regen will have to take care of the rest.”

  She nodded.

  Wes stepped in. “So what’d you get?”

  “You don’t know?”

  “Unless you managed to demote back to Common, Appraise is lying again,” the mage said.

  A drop of panic welled in Eve’s chest for a moment before she realized the truth of the matter. She’d scrolled to the bottom of the upgrade list, after all. She should—in theory—have taken the rarest option. A voice at the back of her thoughts reminded her a Common tier four wouldn’t have kept her alive through the damage and Mana loss she’d sustained. Eve shuddered.

  Too impatient to sort through the mountain of messages for the information she needed, Eve pulled up her status.

  Evelia Greene

  Manaheart

  Level 50 The Defiant

  Exp: 75907/635051

  Health: 1459/1460

  Stamina: 0/0

  Mana: 11/5500

  Constitution:146

  Mana Density: 550

  Intelligence: 27

  Dexterity: 158

  Strength: 191

  Spirit: 0

  Her heart pounded. Between leveling up and promoting to a new class, she’d gained a full hundred Mana Density. Eve swallowed. “I’m The Defiant. Looks like a Mythic from the stats.”