“You are kind of scary.”
“Shut up and punch me. Let’s see how pathetic you are.”
I had never fought before, because of my atrophied muscles I rarely moved. However, the game provided guidance, and I’d need it with four arms. [Brawler’s Stance] helped with my foot placement, but it was still awkward triggering punches with four arms. I started with jabs and crosses to keep my arms from entangling with each other. The bot dodged or blocked all my strikes, so I added in uppercuts and hooks, which just made Blaze move faster.
My fist grazed his the clockwork face, and striking like lightning, Blaze Bot 8 smashed his head into my gut. I fell back on my ass, with a [Stun] debuff. My mouth opened, trying to inhale air, but I gawped instead and the bot laughed. After wiping the stupid look off my face I gasped, little bits of air entered my lungs until I recovered and could breathe.
“I can work with you. The first thing you need to learn is how to place your feet. Everything and I mean everything, starts with the feet. Now I’m going to have you punch my pole—”
“Uh, I have a girlfriend.”
Blaze Bot 8 just stared at me for a full thirty seconds. His clockwork pieces clicked in the silence until his hand came up and he pointed at a pole next to him with wooden rods sticking out.
“Oh.”
“Yea, oh. Dumb ass. Hit that and I’ll instruct you on what you did wrong. I need to see how much control you have over your arms. Don’t get used to anything until I can assess you. Only do jabs and crosses, and I’ll instruct you on the rest.”
I did everything he said but worried about hurting my hands. Striking wood did not seem like something sane people did. My lower left fist connected softly, and a solid thunk reached my ears. It turns out my toughened skin extended to my knuckles and punching things felt oddly satisfying. No longer hesitating I got into the zone, and my fists struck forward with wild abandon. Under 8’s tutelage, I found a steady rhythm that worked for me, and I learned control.
Patterns involving shifting, ducking, dodging, rolling and more were called out, and I followed all of them. The bot even mixed in my Monk skills until I felt like an unstoppable—
“Wrong!” Blaze Bot 8 shouted.
Ooof! The breath expelled out of me, but I’d become accustomed to his punishment. 8’s vicious right cross no longer dropped me to my knees. It left me shaking as I sucked in beautiful oxygen. The bot didn’t let me get used to any pattern, and almost every shift of commands garnered a gut punch.
This time was different; he didn’t stop pummeling me. I went prone, triggered [Feign Death] and [Mend], but none of it stopped the bot from beating the shit out of me.
“Shit tits,” a hoarse voice called from my throat. “Please stop.”
“Stop being a baby. I’m awarding your competence; let me know when you get it.” Blaze Bot 8 laughed maniacally.
What the hell kind of award did incompetent get? I wondered before another wave of punches and kicks landed on my bruised body. This son of a bitch beat me until my [HP] was almost gone, I [Mended] and he kept going. I could no longer see out of my left eye when it finally happened.
[You gained the skill Toughness. Toughness and Skin of the Serpent combined into Lesser Dragon Skin.
*Toughness is a common skill and mutes the pain you receive. Lesser Dragon Skin puts Toughness at a Proficient level which will reduce pain felt by 10%. (You can disable pain reduction in your settings)
Skill: Lesser Dragon Skin
Skill Rank: Mastered
Acclimation: See Merging.
Type: Passive (Restrictions: This skill is disabled if you are wearing any chain or plate armor. Cloth and Leather are the only armor types allowed.)
Leather Armor Effect: Armor increases by 4*Your Current Level. (Currently: 10 AC)
Cloth Armor Effect: Armor increases by 6*Your Current Level. (Currently: Wearing Leather Armor)
Activated Effect: Spikes - This allows you to grow spikes and create feedback damage. Every time you are struck, 15% of that damage is sent back to your attacker. (Cooldown: 5 Minutes | Duration: 45 seconds)
Effect: 30% resistance to Fire
Details: Iron Skin, Toughness, Dragon’s Density, and Skin of the Serpent cannot be learned while you are using Dragon based classes.]
“Stop. I got it. [Toughness].” I told him, mentioning the fundamental skill, not my dragon based one. As far as getting beat to death over and over again, I felt like it was the beginning of a trend.
“Here. Drink up.” Blaze Bot 8 handed me a pink potion.
I popped the cork on the bottle, and the sweet smell of cotton candy wafted out. Sipping it, the potion had the consistency of milk, and my nose had not failed me because it tasted exactly like cotton candy. It was the most glorious drink I’d ever had, and I downed it all.
Pain seeped out of my body, and I could feel my skin firming as the bruising and swelling went away. My eye recovered in stages, but had I not been paying attention it would have gone too quickly to notice. The potion addressed internal damage first. My body shook in anticipation of drinking another one of those potions, and I wondered briefly if the craving was an intended side effect.
“That’s enough; our time is up. You need to work on your base Agility because you will need more speed. Not to mention it will improve your nimbleness. Remember, Agility will be your primary attribute, followed by Constitution, Wisdom, and Strength. In that order. Some monks also pump up their Charisma because it helps with spells and deception strikes, but wait on pumping it until your base Agility is at least thirty. Base Agility means without increases from your gear. Check your updates, and then head on out. Additional training will cost 10 Gold an hour, and that increases by 5 Gold every level you gain.”
I nodded at him and noticed that the prices seemed more than reasonable. The bot knew his stuff, and he might even be low balling the costs. Either way, I checked over the messages that were blinking in the corner, trying to get my attention.
[Acclimation Gains from Training:
Unarmed Combat +19
Girl Screams + 3
Sweep Kick + 4
Flurry Strikes +2
Uppercut +7
Sweep Kick +7
Feign Death +3
Mend +10]
The [Feign Death] Acclimation gains made me cringe. I was not proud of it, but I triggered it many times to avoid a beating. That bot was an evil son of a bitch, but I was grateful for his help. Blaze Bot 8 moved off and yelled at other trainees.
Chapter 15
Location: Shreddit
Before leaving the training area, I contemplated my armor choices. The passive upgrades I received needed a focus, and on a whim, I stripped off all my leather pieces. In my inventory, I found a [Padded Sweater], [Fighter’s Leggings], [Ushanka], and [Cotton Sole Shoes]. The Ushanka was by far my favorite piece of equipment; it was a Russian hat with the fur ear flaps. None of the gear was anything special, and I did not gain back all the armor I lost by switching out the leather. However, the effects of my passives kicked in, and I could feel the hardiness.
Revelers stumbled up from below ground. The inn had a set of stairs leading to a tavern below, and it looked cozy. The type of place where everyone knew your name.
The men stumbled about, and I could pick up pieces of their drunken slur.
“… The [Forum] hasth gawn down ‘ill—hic…”
“… gotta piss, move…”
“… juss don’ piss on Connie, Baul’d ha’e yer balls. Ha! Get it, Baul and balls. Speaking of, ya think Connie has balls? I think that hideous lookin’ woman is a man…”
“… shhh dumb ass, that’s Baul’s wife, ya tryin’ ta’get us banned?”
“… eh? Look at the dumb-dumb in the stupid hat. Yea, keep on walking, loser!”
And I did. Did not even stop to acknowledge them. I knew drunks, and these two were amateurs. I did not make it much further for another rowdy bunch burst through the doors of a nearby inn. Weaving throug
h drunk [Authors] with four-arms, and my supposedly ridiculous hat was a chore. Several tried to [Duel] me, but I canceled all requests. Overall, the night scene left me wary, and I was jumping at shadows.
“Hey bud, need a healer?” A man asked, rocking in a chair on his porch. Above was a sign that read [CoMedic Healers], and under it their motto:
[Listen to our jokes and we’ll cure of all your woes.]
“Yeah, you’re reading right. My brother and I, we heal people through laughter, kind of our thing. The one and only comedy healers. Puddin is the name, and no I’m not a cannibal.”
“Why would—wait your name is Puddin?”
“Yup, Puddin Tane, ask me again, and I’ll tell ya the same.” Warmth flooded into me, soothing away aches and pains, but most promising was the boost to my alertness. The man wasn’t kidding, his jokes healed, but did a silly rhyme count as a joke?
“I’m afraid to ask, but what’s your brother’s name?”
“John Brown, but ya ask me again, and I’ll knock ya down,” Puddin laughed and slapped his knee as another wave of healing hit me. The pudgy man dug around in his pockets until he found his card and handed it over. Sure enough, Puddin Tame & John Brown, CoMedic Healers was printed on the card. “Keep the card; we are in most towns. If ya ever need a healer, ya know where to find us.”
“Will do,” I put the card in my inventory. It never hurt to befriend a healer although I’d probably regret inviting him to a dungeon. I already found his jokes eye rollers, and they probably didn’t get better.
“Good luck, fellar.” Puddin put his pipe back in his mouth and took a drag, the ember lit up his smiling face, and I waved as I moseyed off towards Delilah’s shop.
In the dark, the buildings looked the same.
At least the merchant district did not have inns or taverns, so the crowds thinned almost into nonexistence. I was still uneasy, so I did not let my guard down. The town had me on edge tonight, and that vigilance may have saved my life.
Flinching back from the darkness, I prepared myself to fight. Hooded figures poured out of the alley, their shredded robes dragging on the ground behind them. Light from the street lamp glinted off the nails on their vicious claws. Their nails were polished and sharpened, ready to rend flesh from bone. The glowing green eyes under the cowl left me the most unsettled. There was only malice and hate under those cowls.
They charged at me and their abnormally long fingers, twice as long as a human, tried to tear at me with their sharpened points. A few gnoks wielded [Kris Daggers], but it made little sense. Their hands were far more deadly than the daggers. Unless, and this was speculation, using the weapon was a way to keep part of their humanity intact.
Only seconds passed, but my body already had hundreds of small scratches and cuts across my body. The gnoks coordinated silently and with single-minded determination. I knew they could speak, and the silence unnerved me.
Over the sounds of my fists crushing the robed bastards, I could make out the heavy breathing from the large shadow deeper in the shadows of the alley. His breath came out in gentle huffs that had nothing to do with exertion. More than that, the beast looked to be wider and taller than me by at least a head and a half.
Next to him stood another one of the robed figures. It knew I was watching and raised a finger to its grinning lips, daring me to speak. Other than its height, the main difference was his belt. I could tell it was metal and shaped into a yellow chevron pattern. The peaks of the belt were rusted—or covered in blood. The metal glowed lighting up the alley around him and the giant man thing. Neither made a move towards me, and I knew they commanded the cultists attacking me.
Shit tits. Want a show assholes?
[Mister Fister] appeared on my hand and its first strike broke the skull of the robed bastard in front of me. A grin plastered on my face, I waded into the mass, not caring what my fist’s connected with.
The gnoks tried to drag me down from all sides and had I not just left Blaze Bot 8’s training; I’d be dead already. Instead, I kept spinning and my four fists did not fail to strike flesh. I laughingly dubbed the move Akimbo Style because my elbows struck more gnoks than my fists. I’d turned into a tornado of appendages.
It was impossible to tell how many of the bastards I’d killed because their bodies turned to dust and the gnoks looted the robes. I did know it was a losing battle, and I was fighting now out of pure stubbornness. Had I more control of my fire, these gnoks would not have stood a chance—maybe.
A dagger punctured my kidney, and my vision flashed red. The [Backstab] warning appeared in front of me, and I staggered forward losing any sense of control over my swings. If I did not do something soon that wound would kill me. [-1 HP] kept flashing in my peripheral, letting me know I was bleeding out.
“The Father will not be slandered,” the remaining gnoks hissed in unison. I lunged at them. The closest gnok stumbled over a body, and its hood slipped back exposing a bleached skull with eyeless sockets. Pinpricks of green light glowed from within the darkness of those sockets, which explained why its mouth and nose both glowed too. As one, they slammed their right fist against their chest and chanted, “Gnoks rule!”
What the hell are gnoks doing here? A question for another time perhaps because it was time to roll that twenty-sided dice and hope for a miracle. Their numbers were overwhelming me. There was no way to kill them all, not for lack of trying, but another dagger in my back and I was dead. Exhaustion was claiming me, so I did the only thing that seemed reasonable.
[Feign Death…… Success.]
[Feign Death +1]
Fire be merciful, the gods blessed my roll of the dice. The ability triggered and every muscle in my body, including my heart, went slack. It felt like I was a pile of jelly, but the skill imparted knowledge. My body would remain limp and dead provided I did not swipe away the window in front of me which said:
[Swipe away this message to regain control of your body.]
“Sir, there are only two gold coins on him.” One of the robed figures said after putting his hand on my ass.
“Not surprising, he’s a newbie, but that bastard killed more gnoks than he was worth,” The deep breathing man said from the alley, towering over the others. The gnoks barely came up to his chest and looked like children.
I decided [Feign Death] might be the coolest skill ever.
The ground rumbled as the massive beast of a man turned to leave. His heavy breathing never changed nor betrayed emotion. “Gnoks, follow,” he grunted in a low rumbled. “Spymon, tell Banhammer it’s done, and tell him if his stupidity interferes with an operation again, I will send him to the [Prison of Terrich].”
“Gnoks rule,” The remaining robed figures said in unison as if it was more than a cheesy catchphrase and it sent chills down my spine. They scuttled over to their dead and picked up the remaining robes before retreating down the alley.
The gnok with the yellow Charlie Brown belt walked past me and pulled back his hood to reveal a pale, hairless man. Spymon was not like the others, and he bore a commanding presence. My glimpse of the man was brief. Words tumbled out of his mouth in a language I could not understand, and when it ended, he shimmered and looked like an ordinary citizen, except for the yellow belt.
Spymon unclipped the yellow belt and held one end while he flicked the other outward like a whip. Each of the peaks on the chevron pattern rotated until all the pieces aligned forming a long sword. He sheathed the blade and donned standard gear. In seconds, he was just another face in the crowd—the perfect spy to fit in with various groups to betray their confidence.
The spy’s face did not stick in my memory, but that belt would. I’d also remember the big man’s voice even if I couldn’t recall a face. It turns out, the doctor was right. The Kongdom operates from the shadows of night, and I ended up as one of their victims.
It wasn’t a total wash; I now knew gnoks were weak. Their danger wasn’t their cultist fervor but their numbers. No [Author] could withstand
the horde for long. Kin made it sound like the Father had an endless supply of people to convert. I hoped he was wrong.
After they disappeared, I swiped away the window and stumbled to my feet. I needed to get to Delilah before I died.
[Mend…… Failed.]
[Mend +1]
Shit tits. The wound in my back was still depleting my health. A wet cough brought blood to my hand, not good. Anger clouded my mind and cold laughter echoed down the street as I envisioned BanHammer burning in an inferno, his body burned to a crisp over and over.
Step. Step. Breathe. Step. Repeat. It was hard to breathe with blood filling my lungs. Dying wasn’t an option because BanHammer was waiting at the altar. I stumbled forward with grit teeth. Delilah’s place grew larger and larger.
I hoped the asshole BanHammer raged when he realized I hadn’t died. Maybe—provided I survived first.
Knocking on the back door, Dave opened the door and winced upon seeing me.
“Gnoks,” I gasped, and he nodded.
Chapter 16
Location: Delilah’s Potion Shop [Wil-Marth]
A pink potion appeared in Dave’s hand, and he helped me drink it while my blood continued to seep out of my wounds. Pleasure caused my body to shudder. Even as my wounds closed, I groaned as if in the throes of an orgasm. Damn, what is in those things?
“Can—” My breathing grew ragged from a pleasure aftershock. “Can you get addicted to those? I—I want more, but shit tits.”
“The side-effects vary, but I’ve never heard of addiction as one. Whatever you went through just now, keep it away from me.” Dave lifted me and helped me crawl into the shop. My size and arms made it awkward, but we managed. “Not sure why the gnoks are after you, but I’d keep out of sight for a while.”
“Thanks,” I said but frowned in response because my situation did not allow time for lying low. “Hey, what happened with you and the Father?”
“I published an adventure and titled it in a way he didn’t like.”
The Land of Trademark Online Page 10
