Chapter 4 - Murder Hobo Granny

Now was the best time to strike while the allied forces were retreating. Roberta hadn't gone on a village raid with her goblin squad in forever since the war against her had begun. Oh, she had her fun during the war, racking up a kill count and gaining Corruption Points in her status window to further her Dark Magic ability -an ability gained upon killing enough people arbitrarily classified as 'good', but raiding and looting was what really got the blood pumping.

Villages behind the frontier would have no one to guard them. Roberta's goblins would not be expected there. She herded her squad of a hundred green men into the teleportation circle she'd drawn with her Dark Magic. A small sacrifice of her Corruption found her and the goblins on a wet field beneath a stormy sky.

A fenced village lay ahead, quiet and sombre. The goblins spoke amongst themselves in their high pitched voices. Some lamented at the downpour as the burlap sacks they'd brought took in the water too easily. Others giggled at the notion of robbery, sharing Roberta's excitement.

"Worry not," Roberta said. "We won't be expected. And everyone's inside because of the rain anyhow."

Roberta accessed her subspace inventory and donned her old Cuban military uniform, newly stitched with her Rank 10 Advanced Sewing skill. The new work gave her ease of movement and staved off the pain of arthritis.

She pulled out a revolver from her subspace as well. It'd been hard, making the gun. Making one required Advance Blacksmithing Rank 10, and the blacksmithing skill was a lot harder to grind than her sewing skill.

The goblin squad huddled into a small circle and stared up at her with their bulging golden eyes, awaiting instruction just like she'd taught them. Their greed and eagerness to thieve shown bright within their pupils.

"Alright boys, we do this just as I used to back where I'm from. Lucky for you, you're all green skinned so you don't need camo wear. Split into four groups of twenty-five and circle the village. We attack from four points."

Standard tactics to surround an enemy of higher number to disorient them as much as possible. Some goblin archers would find themselves in trees to provide retreat fire, while others hid in tall grass to ambush pursuers.

Roberta cracked her knuckles and led her first squad of twenty-five down toward the village's main entrance. She could feel her heart thumping in her chest. The rush of blood, the excitement. Oh, she loved seeing numbers go up in her status window, sure. But the true thrill was in the hunt.

A new world she'd come to, but Roberta had not forgotten her days in the revolutionary army. Guerilla tactics had been ingrained into her blood. Warfare involving ambushes and traps and trickery -that was her bread and butter. Old age had come upon her, yet still she sought that fervor of battle. That look of bewilderment an enemy assured of his victory gave when standing at death's doorstep… No. Roberta's soldiering days were not over just yet.

Roberta waved part of her squad to head towards an inn with two floors. Dim lights shone through fogged up windows. There were people drinking in the common room on the first floor, but the upper level showed no signs of life. Goblins were excellent climbers and lock pickers. They'd be in and out in no time.

And if any alarm was raised, then the archers were in position, and Roberta herself had her revolver. Even without its accuracy buff, she was a good shot. Missing had not been in her dictionary during her revolutionary days, and she'd not learned that word's meaning in this new world either.

Rain continued to poor. The silent raid began. Goblins snuck into the village as swiftly as the passing shadow of a bird. Their bare feet left subtle tracks in the mud. Roberta monitored it all from behind a tree. Rain had dampened her hair. Her soaked uniform stuck to her skin. She cocked her revolver and waited. Waited in the cold and wet weather for the alarm to be struck. For an unfortunate soul to step out of the defenses of his wooden walls. For that split moment during which the thunder of gunfire shattered the air.

After all, this world was one of no consequence. A fantasy land in which she'd been thrown with the words 'second chance'. As if Roberta would ever believe those angels.

Oh, she recognized that back home, these actions of hers would have sullied the good name of her commander, Fidel Castro. But here, she could loot and pillage as she pleased. Everything she did was a fantasy. A game. Else, she would not be capable of seeing imaginary status windows or skill points. That is what her knowledge of this genre had informed her.

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Or so was her reasoning to justify the raiding addiction she'd come into.

"Status," Roberta said, and her status window opened. She was level 99, with maxed out stats. But there was an added de-buff to it all. A de-buff called 'Grandma's Arthritis'. She'd come into it after reaching the age of fifty, and every year older she'd grown past that, her stats all dropped by one.

Not that it mattered. No one was as strong as her.

Screams suddenly tore through the endless patter of hard rain. The pitched sound of glass shattering cut above them all. It'd begun!

From within the shadows, goblin archers fired their poisoned shafts. Roberta crouched behind a tree and watched the damage unfold. Skull markers appeared before her eyes, raising her Corruption Points by +1 for every death.

Goblins broke out of homes with their brown sacks stuffed with loot. Roberta's money count, which showed in the top right corner of her status window, started blitzing upwards. The sheer delight of seeing numbers go up sent pleasant shivers running up her spine. She was no better than an old granny in a casino, only every hand she was dealt was a winning lot.

While screams of fear and anger were aplenty, only after several long minutes did people bearing pitchforks and other farm implements break from their homes to drive off the goblin raiders. Of course, no raid was fun without a bit of backlash.

This was the moment Roberta had been waiting for. She aimed her +10 revolver and squinted an eye before pulling the trigger.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Each shot fired was a crack of thunder splitting apart the air. Each one pierced through the villager's skulls and sent bone fragments flying. The men of the village fell dead in the mud whilst their lifeless faces stared up at a merciless, grey sky.

Roberta licked her lips. That sharp taste of gunpowder filled her nostrils. It was so familiar. So… nostalgic. Her Corruption Points shot up by +5 for every kill she claimed herself. She lost herself to the minutia of rising numbers, breaking away from her hiding spot behind a large tree. Roberta began gunning down villagers with glee whilst her goblin force fled with loot in tow.

Bang! An old man plopped to the mud.

Bang! A child with a doll tipped over without sound.

Bang! A granny screamed out as she face planted to the wet earth, a bullet run through her knee.

Roberta had forsaken her knowledge of guerilla tactics. It did not matter. She was too strong. No measly villager was ever going to stand up to her. The world of Fantasia was hers and hers alone to do with as she wished. God had no hold here, or he'd have stopped her already.

Bang! Down went a horse with a 5mm hole drilled through its skull.

Up and up and up went Roberta's Corruption. Thick black smoke swirled around her. She breathed in this evil air, filling herself with the Dark Magic she'd gained from so much Corruption. She channeled the magic into her revolver and fired a final round between her feet. Scarlet lightning struck the ground with a brilliant flash of light. Wet clumps of earth was ripped free, and every wooden building in Roberta's immediate surrounds shattered like glass.

Roberta squinted as her eyes adjusted to the darkness of a rainstorm again. When the smoke of her deeds had cleared, the village was in ruins. The same sort of ruins she'd come upon when first journeying through the lands of Fantasia.

The dead lying about her feet were scorched beyond recognition. Charred remnants of limbs lay strewn amongst the rubble and wreckage of her actions. Rain continued to beat upon them, as if the skies wept at their vicious end. Roberta cackled at the clouds in return.

She'd spent so much Corruption Points to unleash that final attack but all of it had been returned to her upon the village's destruction. There was nothing left. Her goblin squad had made off with the loot. It was time to return home and then find another village to set upon, because of course, why ever would she stop? This was all too thrilling. Looting and murder was just too much fun!

Roberta stumbled away from the village's fence. A terrible ache gnawed at her knee joints. A warning effect flashed before her eyes.

Warning! Warning!

Grandma's Arthritis (EX)

The body has been worn and the arthritis grows worse. All Speed and Evasion has been cut by 50% for the next five days regardless of equipment bonus.

"Fuck," Roberta growled. She limped onward, towards where her little squad of green skinned robbers waited in a field for her to teleport them all back to her castle.

Somewhere far off, she heard the sounds of a galloping horse. Or at least it seemed far off. She could not tell with the harsh rainfall still carrying on. For an instant, she felt that the sound of horses was a little too close for comfort. She clicked her tongue and twisted around to check behind her, groaning at the splitting pain running up her spine from the effort. Blasted arthritis!

And those were the last thoughts Roberta would ever have. A horse had galloped up behind her with a carriage behind it. She was trampled beneath its hooves, her brittle bones then crushed beneath the carriage's wheels.

It was death by speeding vehicle once again.

So ended the reign of the Dark Lord Grandma who'd become no better than a murder hobo.

An unceremonious and fitting end.

Moral of the story: Don't write grandmas illiterate in the world of games and litrpgs into a fantasy land. Be a responsible author. Or she might just come out of it as a psychotic, goblin enslaving, deranged mass murderer.