Kyrie went to sleep satisfied. Sure, he didn’t have a blanket, central heating, or a roof over his head, nor had he eaten for the past day for what must have been the first time in his life but after electing Lucinda he felt they were in safe hands. And if there was any trouble. . .
Well, I can deal with it in the morning.
Kyrie woke to screams. His eyes erupted open to the half-light that was sunrise, and he was greeted with a leering, grinning green face filled with malice. Whereas yesterday he had woken lethargically now his body reacted instantly.
He rolled over, a shout catching in his dry throat, as a spear stabbed down digging into the soft turf where his head had just been. He scrambled to his feet, slipping and stumbling, and raised his fists to this green creature. With the adrenaline coursing through him he evaluated the situation in a flash.
He was staring at a short green humanoid creature. It had a potbelly and only reached up to about his chest in height but that did not diminish Kyrie’s fear one bit. Its head was oversized, with long sharp-tipped ears that pointed upwards and a wide cat grin that seemed to stretch from one side of its face to the other. Its leering smile revealed pointed teeth, yellowed and dripping with saliva. And in its fist, it clutched a pointed stick which it lowered to stab.
Kyrie used inspect.
Goblin level 1
Appeared above its head.
Kyrie dodged to the left as the Goblin stabbed its spear towards him. He retreated, shouting for help, but never taking his eyes off the little malicious creature. It was child-like in size but there was nothing childish about the hatred he saw in its eye nor the glee with which it assaulted him.
It attacked Kyrie again, quicker than he expected, He ducked to the right this time, but not quick enough. He felt a line of fire sear into his side and a viscous liquid began seeping onto his ripped tunic.
Fuck, fuck. Am I bleeding? No way this is happening to me.
Kyrie very quickly realised no one was coming to save him. The whole camp was probably being attacked right now, similar screams coming from all around proved that. It was him or this goblin, he had to stand and fight.
The goblin stabbed at him again, making that odd high-pitched noise. Was it laughing at him? At his weakness? This time instead of ducking and retreating Kyrie dodged inwards towards the goblin. He grunted as the spear connected with his shoulder but didn’t stop even as he felt the tip puncture his flesh. The momentum was behind him as he closed the distance with the goblin and swung his fist.
His knuckle cracked into the goblin’s face, and he felt the pressure as his fist dislodged a couple of its teeth.
The goblin’s scream was now added to the cacophony of the camp, and it stumbled backwards. Swinging the spear horizontally towards Kyrie in an effort to retreat.
No you fucking don’t.
Kyrie caught the spear and felt blood on his hand as the blade connected with his palm.
He wrestled with the goblin for control of the spear, kicking at it with his sandaled feet. And surprisingly, was able to wrest it easily from the goblin’s grip. He comprehended that the goblin was a lot smaller than him and probably weaker than him physically. He could do this! He was winning!
The goblin, suddenly afraid now its spear had been taken from it, turned to run. And Kyrie fell upon it. He lifted the blunt edge of the spear above his head and brought it down with a wet crunch. The goblin flopped like a fish and spasmed. Its skull had been oddly distended by the butt of the spear, and its shaggy black hair darkened further with blood. Kyrie lifted the spear again as wet globs of brain fell from its splintered wooden end and brought it down even more forcefully. He had to make sure the goblin was dead.
His status screen pinged.
You have killed a Goblin Level 1.
One goblin core has been stored.
You have levelled up to Level 2
You have gained proficiency in new skills
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
* Spear-fighting Level 2
* Fist-fighting Level 1
He felt different almost instantly. It wasn’t like he had become a demi-God or something, but the spear no longer weighed so heavily in his arms and when he swung it. . .
I’ve got some semblance of form with this thing now. Not a pro but it feels like I’ve spent about two weeks practicing with it.
Kyrie glanced down at the prone form of the goblin slowly drowning in a pool of its own blood. He would have thought that he’d have a bigger rection than this, witnessing the slow death of a living being in front of him. But he viewed it with the same apathy he viewed a video-game.
In that instance, in the darkness of dawn with screams from every direction, his brain had decided it wasn’t the correct time to comprehend what he had done. He had other priorities. He had to find his family. He looked around and finally viewed the scene around him.
He had been sleeping a bit apart from the rest of the group, further up the hill where the grass was softer. Looking down he saw shapes moving around in the fading darkness. The sun’s rim was breaching the horizon now and squinting he could just about make out green shapes locked in combat with his human peers.
He began to stumble down the hill, using the goblin spear as a walking staff. It was a bit awkward to use due to its small size, but he made do, trying his best to ignore the fiery pain in his side.
He heard the high-pitched yipping sound once again to his left and turned shifting his feet and bringing up his spear to block. But nothing was attacking him.
He looked forward and saw a goblin kneeling over something. He moved on instinct. Two steps and a wet thunk as his spear ran straight through the goblin’s spine.
You have killed a Goblin Level 1
One goblin core has been stored.
Your skills have upgraded
* Spear-fighting level 3
Kyrie let out a long breath and tensed, dragging his spear from the goblin’s body, and kicking the corpse to the side. He looked down at the goblin’s body which had rolled over and spotted blood around its mouth.
Then he saw what the goblin had been kneeling over.
A ragged corpse spreadeagled. Its white tunic now black and torn around the torso, from which bits of flesh seemed to have been torn out in chunks. He looked up to the victim’s face.
Is that Aunt Flora. Was the goblin. . .Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.
Aunt Flora was Uncle Kai’s wife. Kyrie’s family and Kai’s family would visit each other’s houses every fortnight. He would meet his cousins, play videogames, and eat a full dinner. She was a kind woman, and an excellent cook and she was always ready to let Kyrie and his brothers stay over if their parents were out. Now she was dead.
He turned to vomit, but nothing came out. He remembered he hadn’t eaten anything. Tears filled his eyes. This world was unforgiving and cruel, offering nothing of the comfort of his life back on Earth. Why him, why during his lifetime did this have to happen?
Footsteps in the grass behind him.
Kyrie whipped around narrowly blocking a spear thrust. Another goblin was assaulting him.
How many of the fuckers are there?
Kyrie felt his grief quickly turning to anger. He wasn’t about to let this midget sized animal kill him and cannibalise his body. He wasn’t going to turn out like his aunt – murdered in her sleep.
This goblin in front of him was clearly higher ranked than the others. He had a wooden shield which, although deeply gouged and scarred, provided a semblance of protection and upon its ugly too large head sat a rusted helmet.
Kyrie used inspect, it was becoming an instinct now.
Goblin level 3
Level 3 this time. It was higher levelled than him.
Does that mean I won’t be able to beat it. How much strength does a level convey.
No matter what level it was he would have to try as the goblin thrust at him again. Kyrie used his spear to block and, turning the barbed spear blade, he counter attacked. Whipping his blade down on the goblin. The goblin raised its shield, and splinters exploded in all directions, but the wooden circle held.
It’s sturdier than it looks.
The block gave the goblin time to reset its stance and it came on again, suppressing Kyrie under a barrage of blows. Kyrie found himself being pushed over the edge. Even with the upgrade to spear-fighting skills it was too difficult to block the thrusts with just the haft of his spear.
He felt his tunic being ripped in his chest area and felt true fear for the second time that night. This goblin was much stronger than the two he had just fought and each blow shook Kyrie’s muscles. He felt the fatigue piling on and as his muscles grew heavy, he felt all his level-aided skill with the spear departing. His amateur form became a sloppy mess.
He flung himself forward in desperation. The goblin easily deflected Kyrie’s spear thrust. It was over. He had exposed himself in a last-ditch attempt to land a critical hit. Kyrie saw the glint of glee in the goblin’s eyes beneath it helmet.
Kyrie felt rage. Rage at his helplessness. At his weakness. At his inability to defend himself and his family. Goblins. Fucking goblins. The starting fight in any fantasy warrior’s journey had bested him. It was then he realised this was not a story nor a game. In the last seconds of his life, he truly understood his own mortality in this world. He was not a hero.
One second the goblins head was present and the next it wasn’t. The remaining stump spurted copious amounts of blood before toppling to the ground and spasming there for a good ten seconds before seizing up and laying still.
Kyrie was stunned. He had fully accepted death at that moment, and it was difficult to pull himself out of that mindset and back to the real world.
The man that stood in front of him had ditched most of his tunic It was now tied around his waist just to cover his private area. It exposed the rest of his body. A lithe rippling, muscled figure. His foot was still raised in the air dripping blood, a perfect kickboxing stance.
“Cal, is that you?”
“Kyrie? Fuck. I just made it in time.”
Cousin Caleb. His twenty-four-year-old cousin (on his mum’s side). Who’d travelled to Thailand to compete in the arena. But where had he obtained such strength. Sure, he could knock a man unconscious - Kyrie had seen him do it in one of his exhibition matches - but he couldn’t remove a man’s head. With one singular kick.