34.

Santi was staring at the charred metal and scorched flesh in front of him. A heap of armor that still radiated heat, it had been the most dangerous thing any of the survivors had fought. So far.

“Fuck,” Santi said shakily as he wiped at his face with a dirty hand. The strength of the sub-boss was worrying. If the nest was strong enough to support a monster of this power, he could only assume that the monster at the heart of the nest was at the very peak of Initiate. If his luck was truly terrible, then it might be even a weak Acolyte monster similar to the Demonic Chimeras he had killed right before being sent back.

Troll-Kin War Chief lvl. 21

The kill notification floated at the edge of his awareness. There was a sea of goblin and hobgoblin kills that mixed in with it along with his myriad of level ups. All to be looked at later. For now, just for a few minutes he wanted to stare at his immolated enemy.

“I’m sorry Paul. You deserved better than that. I wasn’t as strong as I should have been. I thought I could do it, you know? Save you. Save them. I’m sorry.” Santi watched the thin wisps of smoke rising from the heap of metal for a minute more before starting to head back toward the base.

Corpses were strewn everywhere and shell-shocked survivors of the fight just wandered about. There was a blankness to their faces as they tugged at friends and family who had found their eternal rest. Santi knew those emotions well, had lived through them and had been worn down till death was a friend. A release from the horrors of the world.

Santi chastised himself as he walked into the base. It had been foolish to raise his hopes. To think he could lead his people safely. That the reaper wouldn’t have his due. People stood around the crack in the wall but they all got out of the way as Santi marched past them and headed toward his room.

He stopped to wash his hands right outside the building, a pile of dirty wet wipes strewn around the door and the formerly white plastic container was stained red and black from dirt and blood. The cries of the wounded were a slap in the face as he walked into the base. Another testimony to his failures.

Santi watched Tank race from person to person using his skills to try to keep people alive. The other healers were there with him, all of them desperate in their attempts to save as many as possible. Regular medics were interspersed in the crowd and they did the best they could with the mundane tools they had at hand. It wouldn’t be enough.

He walked past them and to his room without looking again. They would finish eventually, one way or another. The dark room was welcoming and Santi lay down to stare at the ceiling after he closed the door.

Minutes trickled by while his minor affinity made sure he knew of every single passing second. There was no getting lost in his own mind or thoughts while time just drifted by. His affinity kept him nailed down to the present. With nothing else to do, he started to go through his long list of notifications.

He ignored the long list of goblins he had killed, none of them above level five. With his own level equal to theirs or surpassing them he would net very little experience from the kills. The higher level hobgoblins gave him a big boost, with the average being about level eleven. Strong opponents for this early in the initiation, but rather weak overall. The troll-kin War Chief was an anomaly that he was still astounded about. The reward wasn’t bad at all though.

Achievement: Slay a monster 10 levels above you

Reward: Loot Box (Lesser)

Achievement: Survive a monster 10 levels above you

Reward: Title Upgrade Accumulation (15%)

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A wooden box flashed into existence after he opened the reward and Santi took a moment to stare at it before going back to his screens. He scrolled through all the level ups to get to the final one, the one he earned for burning the troll-kin alive.

Congratulations, you are now Mage lvl. 15

Fighting the goblins for hours had managed to raise him to level eight. Killing the War-Chief, or rather being the main contributor to its death, had netted him the other seven levels. He had invested three points into strength and stamina each before the final fight. He only had fourteen spare points to assign to his stats and he looked at it carefully before deciding.

Santi had been focused on building up his magic using stats as fast as possible while relying on the advanced stats from Cockroach and his experience to carry him in his personal fights. The lopsided build would bite him in the ass eventually as people started to level and leaning into their classes.

The War Chief was a good example of that. It had been a monster almost completely built around Strength and Vitality with Stamina a distant third. It had been too slow and dumb to fight back around a group dedicated to its destruction even though it greatly outleveled everyone.

Assigning his free points felt like a betrayal of his original ideas of how to build himself, but keeping himself locked into being a pure mage was going to get him killed. His challenges were different this time and he was still struggling to fully accept it. He was the spearpoint of humanity, meant to pierce and kill the threats to them.

Santi didn’t think he could do that as a pure mage.

Santiago V. Silva

Mage lvl. 15

Strength: 14 (24)

Durability: 15 (25)

Stamina: 15 (25)

Dexterity: 15 (25)

Vitality: 15 (25)

Perception: 13 (23)

Intelligence: 23 (33)

Mana: 26 (36)

Willpower: 24 (34)

Potential: G (75%)

Stats that were much more balanced out now. Still leaning toward a Mage build, but able to fight when it came to it. His title gave him a free ninety stat points which was the rough equivalent of eighteen levels. Even with thirty of those points invested in non-physical stats, it gave him a massive edge.

He already knew which of the skills he was taking and didn’t bother to read through the list available. The Identify skill had been easy to ignore so far but he hadn’t bothered to take it simply because he knew who and what was around. Now that there was more and more things that hadn’t happened first, the skill was needed.

Done with his screens, he opened up the wooden loot box. The least of all rewards given by the System, Santi wasn’t surprised to see just coins inside. A pile of white wood coins that clacked when he ran his fingers through them. The lowest denomination of coin that the System rewarded. They weren’t useful for a while, not until the Pillar of Civilization came anyway.

Each of the wooden coins were made of a white hardwood, so pale it looked like bleached bone.They were completely smooth to the touch and felt more like glass than wood. Nobody had ever found what tree the wood came from and even the info packets that could be bought had no idea where the wood came from. It was completely counterfeit proof and more than one person had learned that the hard way.

He emptied the case on the floor and watched as the small brown loot box dissolved into the aether. He counted out the coins, fifty of them, and poured them into his backpack in the corner. More and more of these would become available in the near future, but for now they were absolutely useless.

Not wanting to waste anymore time, Santi left his room to find a new weapon. Losing the System forged saber was a setback that he hadn’t been prepared for. He had trained with a series of weapons over the years but the saber was the most comfortable weapon he had. Meant for slashing from a higher position it had been perfect when he was a flier. Now that he was ground bound he had to change some of his thoughts on that.

A spear would be good and the hobgoblins had all carried their bone white spears and he was going to take one before the others took them for themselves. He had his assortment of knives too, but the reach of a spear would be good. He was at best adequate with a spear but he could train more.

“SANTI!” Tank’s voice boomed out across the room as Santi headed for the backdoor. Looking back at his friend, he watched as Tank winced at the volume of his call. Deep crescents of exhaustion hung under his bloodshot eyes. His hands were stained from blood nearly to his elbows and he was staggering as he walked toward Santi.

“We need to end them,” Tank hissed, rage suffusing his voice. Santi didn’t need to know who he meant. They had managed to avoid the worst of the slaughter over the last days, but it seemed that Tank was finally beginning to understand what was happening. A true apocalypse. The End Times.

“We kill them all, Tank.”