Qagth'rak the Merciless was an intimidating figure. At seven feet nine inches, his dashing black suit and crimson accessories made for a handsome and yet powerful appearance. His perfectly dark skin contrasted his glowing red eyes and long, curved horns, and his veins glowed with a faint gray light. He was well known among his brethren for being devastatingly serious and, ultimately, willing to kill anyone he needed to in order to further his own plans.
"Kill him! Rip his neck out and - what'd you do that for!?"
Hands gripping the stone railing of his observation box, veins standing out on his neck, Qagth'rak shouted at the two creatures battling each other on the sand below. The wide variety of other demons, from low-ranking imps to even the most dangerous archdemons, were shouting, hollering, and yelling at the two beasts, demanding victory from their pick.
The circular arena was packed full today, the arching grandstands and loaded bleachers covered with rowdy demons. The sand coating the floor of the arena's battling area was a deathly white, so that blood could be seen easier on it. Far above them all, the cave ceiling was covered in sharp stalactites, some of which were large enough to impale even a Cerberus.
Today, the contestant Qagth'rak was cheering on was a hellhound, a spiky and bristling dog with rippling muscles and slobbering teeth. The beast stood nearly eight feet tall at the shoulder and was more than strong enough to push over an elephant, and its bite strength was nearly unmatched.
Nearly being the keyword here, as its opponent was a spitter. The squid-like creatures sported nine flaming tentacles, which they used to drag their bulbous, fleshy body around. Its enormous beak snapped and bit angrily, trying to catch a taste of its agile opponent.
Qagth'rak was more than a little excited. The hellhound, slowly but surely, was beginning to overcome the spitter through sheer strength, its clawed paws dealing huge damage. Every time it landed a bite, it bit another piece off of the spitter.
The air ripped in half.
It wasn't a metaphor for loud noise, or even a particularly well-aimed flame attack. The air literally tore with a catastrophic tearing noise, a great white scar hanging still, the edges flickering with a pale flame. As a whole, the assorted demons stood, eyes wide.
Of course, they knew what was going on. This sort of event had been publicized and copied hundreds of times over the course of Teracot's history, and that history extended to Hell as well. Apparently, Hell was getting a Hero.
And then a mountain of flesh spilled through.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The soldier rolled over and over, his visor coated with white. Reaching for a gun that wasn't there, he scrabbled for purchase on the slippery material underneath him, mind racing. Pretty sure I'm supposed to be dead. He was ridiculously tough, but that had been a massive wave of bodies and it would have hurt, at the very least.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Welcome to Teracot, Hero! As of now, you will be given abilities that you can improve over the course of your lifetime! Any questions you might have can be answered by the handy-dandy Handyman Perk, which will dissipate over the next week. Good luck!
The words flashed across his HUD, scrolling directly in front of his eyes. He tried to blink them away, but the words were practically burning themselves into his retinas. Several seconds later, the words vanished as quickly as they'd come, and he came to a stop at the bottom of the soft hill.
He just lay there for a moment, chest heaving as he considered what was going on. His helmet was hard-coded and didn't have any connections to networks of any kind, at least not where he'd been. Had his helmet been hacked? It seemed unlikely that someone would go to the effort of hacking his government-issued helmet just to leave a comment as harmless as that. Unless it was hypnotic, that is.
A strong hand grabbed his shoulder, shaking him, and he froze. The hands felt human, carefully checking him over and poking at his armor. He raised a hand, trying to wipe away the white covering his face. He hadn't seen another human in... years, probably. The only thing he'd known was annihilating the hordes of Hell, how would he have met someone else?
He noticed a quiet voice. It sounded as though someone was yelling from the end of a distant hallway, trying to get his attention. It was at that point he realized that his ears were ringing, and he shook his head to try and clear it away. Meanwhile, he focused on the words being spoken to him. They were faint, but he could just make them out.
"...You all right? Can you hear me? Eddel, I don't think he can hear me."
Eddel? He wondered. What kind of a name is Eddel? Stumbling to his feet, he shook his head. When he tried to talk, his throat croaked instead. He couldn't remember the last time he'd spoken to anyone or anything. The hands retreated, and thankfully, the white began to fade away. Squinting through it, splotches ruining his vision, he saw a pair of horns.
He didn't hesitate. Snapping his gloved hands forward, he seized the horns, yanking them towards him. Ducking, he swept a leg under the horned creature's feet and twisted the horns sharply. He heard, through the fog in his ears, a loud snap. He sighed. He'd known that demons could imitate sounds, he'd just never imagined they could replicate human voices. And why was it trying to-
Holy crap! You have slain a Level 78
Class:
MP: 100
Resilience - 218(+600)
Strength - 366(+500)
Agility - 273(+50)
Intelligence - 109
Charisma - 28
Luck - 9
SKILLS:
PERKS:
EQUIPMENT:
He shook his head, staggering backward from the input. Just what the here was going on!?