"So let me get this straight. Instead of making battles actually realistic, these 'developers' decided to make wounds do nothing but reduce some arbitrary number? And nobody thought to tell them this was a completely inane idea?" Bast said, patience wearing thin. Master Windless had spent the last five minutes trying to explain why numbers were so vital to this realm, but without a basic understanding of computers, none of it made any sense. And so, the Demigod tried his best to keep his temper under control. But still, who the hell played a damn fantasy sci-fi crossover VR game if they didn't even understand what HP was?!
The tiny giant let out a snort, ruffling his bushy mustache. "You’re forgetting, this place was made for entertainment first, realism second. And besides, it isn't all that bad, boy. You'll still do more damage for hitting the appropriate places, and your advanced skills will level up faster if you use your weapons and armor right." The man said, in a vain attempt to rationalize with the irate boy. "But how are real warriors supposed to cope with the fact that a well-executed wrist cut will only reduce this HP, instead of forcing the enemy to use only a single hand?! It throws every form of martial prowess out the window! I bet most people have resorted to just bashing each other with ever-bigger weapons, not even bothering to parry or dodge!" said the frustrated warrior, letting his external frustrations bubble up in an unrelated issue. And judging by the sudden flush on Windless's face, there was more than a bit of truth to his words.
"Patched that issue a few weeks ago with version 1.1.31. You should have seen fights before I made them rebalance larger weapons." the man said, a hint of ire and embarrassment in his voice. The words did not bolster Bast's waning confidence in this realm. At least the place had realistic armor and weapons though, judging from the selection. Well, besides the weird giant suits, and those useless leather bits that, outside of this realm, would be as useful as a damp towel.
"Well, since you said you learn better through acting, let's put what you learned into action. Your next foe is physically strong, and has a large pool of HP, totalling 315 HP, but is slow to react and reposition. Remember, your damage is based on your weapon’s base damage, multiplied by how much of your strength is put to bear on the attack, then multiplied by skills, then finally by a value based on where you strike. Take your time, and see how much damage you deal with various strikes. It has plenty of HP, so go wild." said the Demigod, rubbing his hands together.
Windless had to admit to his excitement to see how well this well-trained boy handled the combat system. He'd had a few of the Armyr come through, but none were familiar with advanced combat, and though they had been a whole lot easier to tutor, none were as entertaining. Well, besides the girl that somehow already understood the magic system, and threw a ball of nasty, poisonous vines at him. THAT had taken a lot of effort to not break the Confidentiality Clause, and peak into the background of that particular individual.
Though frustrated at the, well, frustrating rules of the realm, Bast was more than happy to get back in the arena. And now that he understood more of the rules, nothing would get the jump on him like that nasty rodent had. He moved over to the stone construction, wiping the sweat off his forehead. He slipped under the ring, and drew his sword, eyeing the three remaining monsters in turn. With a call from the Tutorial Master, the piggish creature moved forward, swinging its giant club in massive arcs, air swishing around it in tiny hurricanes. The monster’s slobber dripped onto the floor as it squealed in a very pig-like way, before slowly charging forward, slowly building its momentum.
Rather than wait for the enemy to get closer, as well as increase its momentum, Bast lept to meet the foe, moving forward in small, quick strides as he kept low to the ground. They reached each other in mere moments, the pig swinging its massive club in a sideways arc. Rather than fight the beast in a test of strength, Bast quickly turned his short, forward steps into a backwards leap, skirting the edge of the blow, before rocketing back forward, thrusting his sword into the enemy’s armpit, overexposed by the massive swing. The blade wasn’t stopped by ribs, suggesting that the monster’s organs would have been pierced. Well, if this realm HAD organs. Bast wouldn’t put it past the place for organs to not even exist.
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Moments after the thrust, a series of red numbers popped up above the creature’s head, reading; “127! ( 19 * (.89 + 0) * 7.55)”. Though he didn’t have enough time to do the math, Bast assumed the 127 was the multiple of 19 and whatever the three other numbers added up to, but as for which of the three smaller numbers represented what, he had no clue. What was REALLY annoying, however, was that his damage was far too miniscule, considering that the wound should have been fatal on its own, but compared to the supposed HP of the creature, a whopping 315, he was barely getting started. He quickly pulled out his sword, stepping backward as the creature tried to bring its club back around again, hitting nothing but more air.
Not wanting to be anywhere near that giant club when it was making its swing, Bast only took a short step forward, using the tip of his blade to leave two quick cuts on the creature’s forearm, one dealing 19 damage, the other dealing 17. At least the damage from a light strike on a non-vital location was much lower, but still, he would have to change far too much of his fighting style to adapt.
The pig, squealing like mad, brought the club to its shoulder, before charging straight forward, as if to body-slam the young Fae. Marveling at the utter stupidity of the creature, Bast merely took a single step back, sword swinging upward to cleave open a long, shallow cut along the pig’s chest, before leaping to the side, easily clearing the path of the beast, and landing on his hands and knees with a few scrapes. A small, white -2 appeared at the corner of his vision, giving him a slight startle, but he was starting to get used to random visuals appearing out of thin air.
Taking a second to breathe, Bast analyzed the situation. The foe was extremely easy for anyone with nimble legs, and with some combat awareness. The whole numbers thing was frustrating, how was he supposed to improve his skills if most of his training focused on aspects of reality that just DIDN’T APPLY in the damnable place. And if he let himself slide into whatever ridiculous method of fighting was promoted here, then when he left, his skills would be severely harmed, and he would probably get himself killed. No, if he wanted to prepare for future war, he would have to stick with his training. No cutting corners, no more playing around. It was time to kill the beast.
The target in question was currently turning around to face its hated foe, and with no thought for safety, Bast rushed forward, sword held above his shoulder. The beast swung its club in a clumsy overhead motion, one that Bast redirected with his blade, guiding the attack to his side as he performed a quick sidestep, the club slammed into the ground at his side. He let his sword flow up the club’s side, slashing the wrist, letting the blade continue passed the creature, giving himself enough space to launch a powerful sideways blow, leaning his whole body into a slash that ripped open a large cut in the pig’s throat. Though it had somehow survived the two attacks, the monster's stance was broken, stumbling backward from the pain. A shove sent creature bowling over, and a thrust to the chest turned the monster into so many fragments of glass that slowly exploded into nothingness.
With a flick of his blade, the pig’s blood splattered the floor, clearing most of the blade of the rust hazard. The battle, though interesting, had done little to satiate the hunger inside the boy. He had hoped that a simple fight might help, but he could no longer lie to himself. It wasn’t combat he craved, it was retribution, and all the talk of numbers was delaying him from satisfying that need. What point was there in sitting around, learning all of the fancy rules of this realm, if all he needed was a blade in hand, and a target to eliminate? No, no more sitting around. He would learn the last, most important details, before setting off to satisfy the desire for revenge. If those humans that entered this realm couldn’t die, at least they could feel PAIN. And that is what they would feel, a pitiful sacrifice to ease the suffering of the slain as they watched from the sky and listened to the wind.
With his decision made, Bast made his way to the applauding Demigod, sword clutched in a trembling fist, mind bent only on inflicting as much suffering as possible on all of humanity. A reckoning was to be had for the millions of Fae slain, and those unfortunate players of Phasmia Online where about to receive the bill.