Breathing in deeply, he regarded the other monsters. There was no level up yet, and it seemed as if one could not level up in combat, but that was alright. Jonathan flashed forwards, destroying the rest of the goblins in front of him, who had stopped to watch the fight. They let out squeals of anger as he approached, but he did not listen, instead focusing on his own breathing.

Finally the broodmother got to its feet, having banked on the stud’s ability to win against Jonathan. However, it was too late for the monster, and Jonathan was already upon it, punching with all of his might. The monster tried to shift into its fighting form, but his piledriver of a fist slammed into its cheek first, driving straight through the flesh and into the skull. The bones beneath his hand cracked, and his own bones creaked in protest. He banished all thoughts of the pain, and instead punched with his other fist, driving the monster’s head into the spikes. It punched him in the gut, squashing one of his organs, but he was undeterred, pushing his hands together with all of his might. The monster's head cracked open like an egg between his gauntlets, and a tidal wave of energy entered him. As soon as it did so, his wounds started to heal over, and the pain in his stomach faded to nothing.

You have killed a Waste Goblin Broodmother!

You have killed a Waste Goblin Stud!

You have killed a Waste Goblin!(x18)

You have leveled up!(x2)

Jonathan smiled as the sweet power rushed into his body, filling him up. He was slowly becoming so addicted to the rush, that he would do anything to facilitate it. In the world of Telvaria, such people either died an early death, or went on to become the greatest of warriors. There was no in between path.

Jonathan closed the notifications, and sat down for a moment, recovering some of his energy. Although he had been fully healed by the level up, it did not fully restore his resources, and his stamina was quite low. As it recovered, he tracked the rate of recovery, interested in what determined that. Unlike with mana, where Wisdom dictated the recovery rate, there was no stat for stamina that did the same thing. He was recovering around seven points per second however, and eventually he realized that he was gaining his Strength stat divided by ten in points per second. At that rate, it would take him a hundred seconds to reach full capacity, and as he thought about it for a moment, he noticed that would always be the rate, no matter how powerful he got. In any case, at least he didn't have to worry about another stat with stamina, instead being able to focus on Strength. With his pugilistic abilities, he would be able to utilize every point into that stat to the utmost.

Saving his spare points indefinitely was tempting, but as he was drawing closer and closer to fifty spare points, he realized that it would be time to invest them eventually. In another four levels, he would have a hair over fifty points to spend, and he had a plan this time. As he leveled, he had learned that the way his stat multiplier worked was through rounding. If he invested, say, two points into a stat, he would gain 2.5 points, which would be rounded up to three. This actually meant that investing points incrementally rather than all in one go was the way to go, at least until his multiplier grew larger, which would make larger sums of points more effective. Still, he wanted to bank the points until he really needed them, as he certainly did not now, judging by the devastation that he had caused to the goblins. Jonathan got up a few seconds later, his stamina back to full, and explored the cavern. All that was in this one however was filth and detritus, and nothing of any real value. With a sigh, he headed back up the tunnel towards the surface. This was only the beginning of his journey to the top.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

In a tiny fishing village in the country of Landran, a principality of the Harain Empire, a little girl stared up at the sky in astonishment. All across the planet of Telvaria, people stopped and stared at the majestic sight up above. High up in the heavens above, flares of blinding light could be seen by the inhabitants of the planet. Galaxies and stars were being snuffed out by the titanic battle overhead. The gods were at war. Sarnakthros was on his final breath, and his siblings had grown impatient with him, deciding to take the fight straight to the god himself. Even with their power carefully restrained, they were skirting on the edge of breaking reality itself. As they fought across the universe, erasing everything that they touched with their incredible power, something had to give first, either one side, or the universe. Eventually, Sarnakthros collapsed from exhaustion and his injuries, falling onto a neutron star. The intense gravitational field of the celestial body barely moved a hair on his head, and all around him the Gods of the Light touched down.

“Brother. It is over.” Malaraxia, the Queen of the Sky’s voice was suffused with regret, but also with an undercurrent of joy. After eons of war, the god and her allies had achieved their goal. They had brought their brother to his knees, and with that, their rule would be absolute. He had always been the strongest among them, and the litany of wounds that covered the bodies of the other gods, some of them irreversible, were a testament to his strength. However, in the end, it had been too much for him. As he lay there dying, he whispered the words to a forbidden incantation under his breath. With his last breath, his soul fled out of his body, and plummeted straight down, towards the Infinite Hells.

Jonathan lay sleeping in the shelter of a monolithic tower, when he was jolted awake by a sudden twinge in his side. He rubbed at the pain, but as it began to increase, he scrambled to his feet. Nothing was attacking him, as far as he could tell, and there were no malefic runes nearby. He doubled over as his skin began to glow, and a moment later, a pillar of light lanced down from the sky, blasting his body with energy. Then it vanished, leaving only a faint smell of ozone. Jonathan stumbled, and then patted his side again. The pain was gone, but in its place was a rune beyond anything he had ever seen before. It was so complicated that his eyes began to bleed from even glancing at it. He tore his gaze away before madness claimed him, and tried to marshal his furiously beating heart. A moment later, a voice sounded in his head.

“Jonathan. I did not wish to meet you like this, but here we are. A man, and a broken god.”

Jonathan froze, and waited to see if the voice returned. Perhaps he was going insane.

“No, you are not going insane. I am Sarnakthros, your divine patron. Events have come to pass that had rendered me nothing more than an unhoused soul, with none of my previous power. I was forced to flee here, and it was only pure luck that allowed me to enter your body.”

“So what, you’re possessing me now? I’m not sure if I am comfortable with that.”

“Well, necessity demands that you get comfortable, because I'm not going anywhere any time soon. It will take time for me to recover even a fraction of my former strength, time in which you need to progress. Do not worry about any invasions on your privacy however. I will be comatose for the foreseeable future. Farewell, Jonathan. May we meet in more agreeable circumstances.” The voice cut out, and did not return. Jonathan waited there for a few minutes, trying to see if the voice of his patron would return, but it did not. Instead, he was met with a notification from the System.

You are now the host of a Tier 1(Tier 100) Divine Entity. That entity has sent a tiny fraction of their latent power into you.

+3 to all stats