Our story begins with a road. Not one of those asphalt ones; did you not see the tags? This is fantasy after all. One of those dirt ones. Like the ones that you'd see Ash and his friends in the original Pokemon series walk into the sunset on.
Anywho, a man with a thick beard and a stout physique stumbled across the road with a hood concealing his features. Well, besides the beard anyways. Dust clouds picked up as he strode down the road to where ever he may go, however, it was apparent that he would not be reaching his destination in short order. This is because several tall green creatures, masks and armor of carved bone covering much of their body, Goblins it seemed.
The stout man drew his dagger, sharp as a razor, as he took a stance. He would not fall here. He charged forward with a roar sprinting at the monsters his weapon held low. He was aiming for the heart then he would spin and drive the dagger into the temple of the second one, before kicking off that Goblin and pummeling the last one to death!
Until several more Goblins dashed out of the greenery as they all jumped upon the stout man stabbing and bashing without care for each other.
Thus ended the travels of the hobo I decided to narrate.
Let's get to the actual story, Aye?
//--//
There stood a boy who lost the one which made his world blossom. In front of a door of cold steel he stood.
I can recall the day we met.
The boy had wondered; why did he come here? Why not grieve and wail upon the grave of the one which guided him through his oh, so small world?
I had lost my mentor who showed me a world beyond mine.
Shaking his head the boy raised his hand he had to have come here for some reason. That reason was behind this door. He pushed but it didn’t budge.
How could I forget this?
The boy frowned and placed his other hand on the door and started to push once more.
It was kind of silly how hard I tried.
Each second passed like an eternity as, even with my efforts, the door didn’t budge in the slightest.
I didn’t give up though.
The boy’s vision was only of the door. The obstacle between him and his reason. He dug his feet into the stone floor grunting, shifting, roaring.
I had a serious case of tunnel-vision, back then.
The boy wailed and sobbed as he pushed at the door. His hands grasped for any purchase but that never helped him.
I could only see the door; all of the world around me was blank.
He slowly understood what this door was. The last thing left by his mentor. It was his final test. An unspoken message…
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
‘What are you willing to give up?’
Howling he brought everything to the forefront, bringing all he had and pushing once more.
...And it gave.
It blasted open but not without taking something.
But that was inconsequential really.
Unimpeded by the door’s sudden ease of opening the boy strode forward into the dark room.
That was how I met my partner.
//--//
"Ahr hwee ter ywet?" A girl in dark red robes, white eyes scribbled all over the cloth, asked with possibly the worst speech impediment known to mankind.
Makan Burstfist sighed and cracked his neck, "Please don't start with that, Abhom. We just left town!" Only an hour ago they had departed from the town of Marluck, a small port town which they arrived at from their home continent. The man stood at six feet with a decent physique, his brown hair pulled into a ponytail and his slate eyes looking onwards. As of now, they were in the Continent of Nordan. It is called the Continent of Adventure, for good reason, as the continent undergoes a phenomenon many great Magi came to call, 'Dungeon Shift'. The continent would randomly transform or have new land apparate from thin air and the mana concentration of the continent is several fold denser than anywhere else, similar to a dungeon. Many of which litter the land, sea, and air filled with many secrets.
The duo had barely any funds left by the time they reached land and decided to buy supplies and head out to the city which was several days away from Marluck. Their reason for this is because cities usually have a guild which has a wide variety of work, from escorting merchants to subjugating monsters.
Up ahead there seemed to be a small commotion, which as Makan and Abom approached turned out to be a gathering of Goblins crowding around something. Or rather someone, their latest victim no doubt. Goblins wouldn’t be such a problem if they weren’t born hunters with noses that could track prey like a dwarf could guzzle alcohol.
The spindly green monsters all turned towards the duo, noticing not the smell of human, but something wonderful. It was as if the god of food descended with ambrosia in hand.
They craved it; they needed it.
While to Makan it smelt like the sea. Shaking his head he groaned as a dozen goblins were now sprinting towards the two with abandon.
“Iz it tehm tou kheeeell tings?” Abom asked while her cloak writhed, hiding something under it.
The tall man grimaced, “Yes, I suppose it is; I’m seriously going to need to buy you some scented soaps. Seriously this is getting ridiculous.”
“Whe shmel fhunni?” The girl cackled, which sounded like a dying manticore, “Hyu ahr fhunni! Abhom likes ‘hat!”
“Not what I was— Okay whatever, point is we’re going to-” Makan squawked as he ducked, “Bloody Creator!”
As they spoke the Goblins easily cleared the distance and one swung at him with its oversized meat cleaver-like weapon. The other monsters attempted to lunge at Abhom saliva pouring out of their maws without end. Makan scrambled back up and slammed into the other Goblins his fist slamming into their sides which could have probably pulverized their rib bones, however, their armor took the brunt of it and it showed as it fell apart.
However, his assault couldn’t last forever as he fell back as they flailed mostly hitting each other but getting one good hit on Makan’s back. Several of the Goblins were in the grasp of tar-like tentacles as they constricted the life out of them. Said, tentacles originated from Abhom’s robes as she laughed.
Never will Makan get used to that.
Never.
Now there were only six Goblins left who of course were enthralled by Abhom’s smell and were thusly trying to eat her.
Which would have been manageable if not for the several dozens more that showed up.
“Alright, then I think it’s time to do the thing!” He hissed, mildly on edge by the amount of Creator damned Goblins there were.
“Whe’hr dhuheng ‘he ting?!” Abhom all but squealed as she ran up to him in just a moment. He sighed, “Yes, we’re doing the Thing.”
Makan knelt down holding his arms out behind him. Hoisting herself up onto his shoulders, with much use of tentacles, Abhom made herself at home on his shoulders. A moment passed before a sharp prickling sensation crawled down his spine as he felt control return to him.
His mana slowly started to move once more, circulating through his body. See, Makan had lost his ability to manipulate mana and was essentially crippled as a mage. Until he met Abhom who could temporarily revive the ability to manipulate mana, allowing him to follow the way of the esoteric arts once more.
First, mana is to flow through the body.
Second, mana is used to reinforce the body.
Third, mana is concentrated in one body part.
Fourth, the spell is activated.
“Fifth is to Cast Fist.” Taking a step forward he reared back his left arm which pulsed with Magical power. Then he released his fist. Draining from his body the mana focused into a single orb before expanding and engulfing the Goblins.
As the light dissipated the Goblins all seemed to be beaten bloody as if they were hit by a huge fist. However, Makan was no master of this spell. Someone who is simply adept with it could completely obliterate tenfold the crowd he had encountered.
To reintroduce our main characters.
Makan Burstfist is an apprentice Muscle Mage and Abhom is some sort of eldritch abomination.
Don’t think about it too hard.
This is their story of kicking hippy cultist ass and spelunking.
//The Archfistop and Eldritch Abomination//
Or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Cast Fist