Benjamin – Beta Zone #76 Level 21 – 50
Having removed the immediate prospect of being buried alive and subsequently not finding anything resembling even the loosest of definitions of a loin cloth. I begin to dwell on what life will be like without my dogo.
The accursed black dog settles inside of me again, like the unwelcome yet familiar beast it is.
With my adrenaline ebbing, I’m certain that it’s not just the lack of light making things look so dark and foreboding.
As if to answer my unhealthy schema, a howl goes up in the distance and is answered by one much much closer. Letting out a resigned sigh as it seems that everything is indeed going to shit, I get to the closest gore bedecked giant pine and jump to reach the lowest hanging branch.
Things however did not go well.
Why you might very well ask?
Well it’s simple really.
When you are used to having a strength of let’s say respectable 11 which you have used for most of your adult life. Then in the blink of an eye, you crank it up to 250 and try to jump for a branch just above head height. Surprise! You go careening into branches you were not aiming to avoid.
All things considered it could have been much worse as apparently my skin is impervious to all twig and branch based weaponry now, and with my intellect at 177 and wisdom at 176, I can also evidently think pretty fucking quick on my not feet.
So instead of continuing to flail helplessly at the height of my Tigger jump, I instead use [Decrease Gravity] on myself with a multiplier of 100% and float in the air until I can snag me some pine tree to cling to for dear life.
Heart hammering in my chest while I’m a good 30 meters off the ground, I ignore more threats and abuse while noticing that company has finally shown up to the wyvern dinner party that I spontaneously decided to throw.
The brown and grey forms of what look like miniature wolves from my vantage point, begin to trail along the tops of the low ridges that sandwich the place where my erstwhile meat coffin used to reside. They sniff the air pensively at first, cautiously gauging the source of the free smorgasbord cast out by yours truly. Then a larger one shows up behind the line of onlookers on the left hill and they part in deference to it.
This one seems to be a lot more clued in to what the fuck is up.
No, literally.
The one that I have dubbed the ‘Alpha’, sniffs the air for a few seconds then looks straight up at the Australian clinging to the ginormous pine tree with his fishing tackle hanging out.
I swear to his sauced and meaty balls, when we make eye contact and the beastie bloody nods at me! Before pausing for a second then letting out an echoing howl and turning tail not moments after, with the rest of the pack vanishing into the night behind it.
Totally not spoopy at all! Nuh-uh everything is A ok with me!
‘in 234 hold 234 out 234 hold 234 in 234’
Taking in my surroundings with a clearer head, even though it was dark I noted I still have almost perfect vision to at least a good kilometer, which played a vital part in easing my frayed nerves a smidgen. Looking down at my naked form, I noticed that my physique had gone from a reasonably fit adult male, to a stone mason having chiseled a Greek statue with thrice the definition on it.
All of it.
Experimentally flexing my arms and legs I marveled at the sheer variety of muscle grouping and take a closer gander at my skin itself. Turns out that has gotten a complete makeover as well.
Gone were the cigarette and lighter burns and other motley collection of scars from my foster parents and siblings teaching methods, only to be replaced with a dermatologist’s wet dream. The only flaw though was that there seemed to be a perennial lack of hair, from scrotum to noggin, yet as time passed with the growls and sheiks of differing monsters growing closer, the hair regrew at a visible rate.
Well thank fuck for that! I’d hate to be a balding spalding when whatever the heck is making all that racket out there eventually eats me.
Getting distracted from my very own fast forward nature documentary, I noticed motion near a crag, about half a kilometer from where I squatted on an ample pine branch. There’s a gaggle of what appeared to be humanoids clambering over it to get a safe vantage on the source of the bloody stench, wafting their direction, courtesy of the now light westerly breeze.
Something else however also tried to vie for my attention. A translucent green fucking arrow to my left.
Thinking back, the thing had shown up and told me to go toward ridiculously sized insects, so for now I’m designating the homicidal GPS arrow was an option of last resort as it’s something Karen has likely had a hand in.
Turning my attention back to the advancing humanoids, I hold my breath, because charging up behind them was the biggest, and only, bear I have ever seen!
Leaving a trail of dust behind it the less than average bear is almost on top of what I’m assuming are humans. So naturally, being the dumbass that I am, scream.
“LOOK OUT BEHIND YOU!”
This however, did not have the reaction I was hoping for. They instantly turned their heads in my direction and let out guttural hooting sounds like hangry geese and subsequently having completely ignored their semi-truck sized assailant, the monster bear simply plowes through them like a pro bowler at a tenpin alley on a Friday night. It even went so far as to snag an unfortunate in its jaws for a drive through snack for shits a giggles. Causing havoc with its passing, it keeps on a rolling straight toward my ill-conceived wyvern disposal site, leaving behind some angry, hurt and undoubtedly confused, probably not people.
Decelerating as it gets close to my position it slows to a graceful, huffing trot while it makes a lazy circle of the site.
The almost certainly not people are thoroughly enraged by the giga-bears recent drive by and have recovered from the shock and awe tactic it employed to start charging towards the indifferent beast.
Looking on in morbid voyeurism, I witness them pelt across the rocky terrain and close on their prey. The closer they get I notice they seem to be wielding spears and shields of some sort, and as for their humanity? Well unless they slept in a toxic waste dump, their green skin, pointy ears and noses, and lanky gait, put them in the same fantastical species box as trolls.
Obviously aware of their advance the giga-bear who I have dubbed ‘Brutus’, turns and rears up on its hind legs, while letting out a roar almost as impressive as the dickhead wyverns. Momentarily stunned by the move, the probably trolls hold their head in pain and confusion as Brutus charges them for a follow up skittling.
The poor buggers don’t stand a chance as he massacres them without restraint, his swipes and chomps making short work of the often prone humanoids. When the greenies recover from his opening gambit they decide to leg it to whence they came from, their number fatally reduced.
Letting out a huff, Brutus and his bloody mutton chops turn away from the fleeing almost certainly trolls and releases a snort of what I swear is derision, before he trots over for a closer inspection of my handy work.
Sniffing around the gully for about a minute he sniffs the air again and turns to the base of my 60 meter high hideout. Trotting up to the roots, he skirts it for a few seconds before his muzzle points straight up in my direction.
‘Its ok though’ I tell myself as he rears on his hind legs and confirm that yes indeed he is a he, while he forepaws the formidable girth of my treehouse. ‘I don’t know fuck all about bears, but if I know one thing it’s that bears can’t climb tre-‘
Annnnnnd he’s climbing up towards me now…
Not fast mind you, but the absolute unit of a bear is doing, what in any other situation I would definitely call an adorable shuffle, up my tree while he simply chomps off any branch in his way.
Being the cultured man of nature that I am and being as close to it as I have ever been in my life, in a moment of panic I attempt to utilize the available fauna to my advantage.
The first pinecone twice the size of my up until recently bald head, drops towards Brutus, landing on his shoulder and elicits an accompanying yowl of annoyance.
Incensed by the audacity of the naked Australian dropping pinecones towards him, he speeds up a fraction, in an effort to end my irritating existence.
Adrenaline pumping again I get told that I should just let him eat me while I start to formulate a much more robust plan than my first. Brutus is about 10 meters from me now as I finalize the finer points for an operational outline of what I have tentatively code-named ‘Greet The Bloody Tourist’ or GTBT for those more acronymically minded.
Now within a couple of meters of me, I utilize my strength to snap off a branch as thick as my leg from the trees limb and point it tip first towards Brutus’s huffing and bloody jowls. Pausing and looking like he’s about to release his big boy growl from earlier I cast [Minor Field of Gravity Increase] and release the branch causing the wide load of a bear to snap his jaw shut and go prone to the tree like his hide depended on it.
The branch I was holding hits just left of his head at considerable speed and he growls in frustration, while several loose pinecones whiz past me and one even makes a grazing contact on my outstretch arm, knocking it flat while some canon into the unwelcome intruder as I initiate the second phase of GTBT.
Focusing on Brutus I cast [Increase Gravity], instantly followed by [Minor Repulse] and my blue bar dips to halfway as bark crumples and I feel the backlash of the second spell punch me free of my amateur tree grapple. Barely even feeling my journey through several branches and pinecones, I get knocked out and away from my treehouse in the process and ending up almost parallel to its top.
Brutus however becomes a blur of brown and red streaked fur while he shoots toward the ground, releasing a visible pressure wave on the way down, followed by the sound of a minor earth quake as he makes landfall:
You have slain a Giant Mountain Bear level 45, experience awarded.
You have leveled up + 1 to intelligence + 1 wisdom.
Grinning like a Cheshire cat at the results of the first ever man made Drop Bear while I hang for a moment in the apex of my ascent, gravity reminds me what’s up as it takes hold and I’m whipping past my impromptu treehouse at an accelerating rate.
Stunt people who frequently fall from great heights have often been quoted as saying that even if your safety net is gone, you should relax into the fall, rather than trying to fight it. Well they are not me and they can fuck right off!
Having my pitiful tortured existence flash before my eyes with accents of green and brown pine gives me a moment of clarity I seldom have found. Casting [Decrease Gravity] on myself I feel my ascent slow and I cast [Minor Attract] on the tree before making contact with its blessedly rough and scaly bark as I use it to further arrest my descent, all while my hands score rents down its trunk.
About a meter from the bottom I come to a halt, still afraid to let go of my now thoroughly vandalized and all too conspicuous hideout.
‘in 234 hold 234 out 234 hold 234 in 234’
Time passes as monster cricket’s chirp into the eerie silence of this insane world’s night. I snap out of observing things and dislodge my miraculously unmarred hands from Mr Pine, to easily land on the ground, and walk over to Brutus’s near pancaked corpse.
Edging closer to his remains I extend a foot out toward what looks like it used to be one of his limbs and tentatively nudge it:
442 Manamotes acquired from Giant Mountain Bear.
Huh, so I guess that’s the currency the arbiter dude was waffling on about. Quietly cheesed there doesn’t seem to be anything remotely resembling monster cores or affinity crystals I can use as a cheaty power up, I let out a despondent exhale.
Replaying the recent events in my head I was starting to get the impression that things might not be as dire as I first thought.
I mean, yes it’s an apocalypse survival scenario, and my eternally disappointed science teacher would be further disappointed in me than he was all those years ago for my shitty application of physics. But if I can solo this shit?
Then I highly doubt people are at the bottom of the food chain right now.
Reassessing my views on safety and reminding myself of the fact that I got attacked without heading towards the potentially not Karen constructed green arrow that still persists in my vision, I decide to give it a second chance and start to follow its invasive guidance.
I come up on the edge of the Jungle again and look back to where I lost my only friend and the thing that Korean’s call Han settles in as I drink some proverbial concrete and harden the fuck up while turning my back on Max’s gravesite while my eyes seem to have sprung a leak:
You have entered Alpha Zone #193 level 1 - 20.
Looking for something to occupy my time on my sub-tropical jaunt, I decide it is probably prudent to level up some of my other skills while keeping at least 60% of my mana untouched for emergencies.
The sights and sounds of gravity incrementally altering my surroundings is a welcome distraction as I cast skill after skill on the unsuspecting giga-fauna, only pausing long enough for my blue bar to fill back up. Feeling a slight draft on my undercarriage I decide to pilfer some vines and some smooth looking leaves to craft me some jungle pants.
Having a modicum of success thanks to my clearly much improved Dexterity, I now resemble a respectable and peaceful tree hugger, who has taken to a life of simplicity, rather than a naked raving lunatic. I’m told I’m a worthless cunt who isn’t deserving of life as I amend my previous statement whilst my good mood sinks.
My mana recovers again as I hear some faint yelling and chanting, emanating from the deeper jungle to the left of the path. Presented a choice between either, following some maybe Karen implemented arrow to heading to a locatable source of revelry, I weigh the two possibilities for a moment as I pause my journey.
Seeing no reason to spend the night alone in the jungle on the promise of something that may be a trick, I convince myself to overcome my social phobia even if it’s just to be near other people. Reassuring myself that I don’t have to actually engage in meaningful conversation, I opt to head toward the sound of the celebrations.
The time it takes me to near the merrymaking with my cautious walk, is a surprising distance and I chalk it up to my improved hearing. Eventually resuming my skill grinding to ease my boredom.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Coming in sight of the ramshackle camp, there’s a big ass bonfire surrounded by dancing figures and felled giant trees.
Deciding it would be a terrible way to cause a misunderstanding I relent on my skill grind and wait for the respective effects to dissipate as I sift through the piled up, blinking blue windows in the corner of my vision:
Minor Field of Gravity Increase has increased to level 2.
Decrease Gravity had increased to level 2.
Minor Field of Gravity Decrease has increased to level 2.
Minor Attract has increased to level 2.
Minor Field of Gravity Increase has increased to level 3.
Decrease Gravity had increased to level 3.
Minor Field of Gravity Decrease has increased to level 3.
Sporting a small smile at being rewarded numerically for my efforts, I look guardedly around the recently made clearing.
Only seeing the dancing figures of humanoid silhouettes and no giant man-eating fucking monsters I cross the vast and stump dotted clearing and approach the dancing figures with arms held up in a nonthreatening manner.
The closer I get however the smaller the beings appear to be, absently noting several cooking cauldrons on smaller fires being tended to by the small and almost naked humanoids.
‘Oh fucking shitburgers! Benjamin you’re an idiot!’
I berate myself while contradicting the rotating door of psychologists’ advice, and begin to slowly back away from the gathering in the realization that the now visibly pointy eared, green skinned midgets are definitely bloody goblins.
“HUMAN!”
Screams one of the green skinned buggers, while pointing a sharp clawed and accusatory digit straight at me. The prosecutory cry is taken up by more and more of them as the celebratory atmosphere evaporates quicker than an emu on the Nullabor.
They start to bum rush me with bone daggers and crude looking spears and I turn to find some larger specimens emerging from the trees into the clearing.
I’m surrounded at this point and I see nowhere to go, and just as I start to formulate an escape plan the first thrown spear makes contact with my chest and I hear a sickening snap.
Unmoved by the impact, I look down and blink in disbelief. The point on my pectoral muscle where the spear was supposed to have penetrated is completely unblemished, with the broken bone spear tip and shaft lying harmlessly at my feet.
Taking a quick glance at the thrower, it seems to be twice as confused as I am which leads me to grin like a dumbarse at my apparent invincibility.
At least right up until I’m mobbed by the screaming angry horde of green that is.
What can I say? Situational awareness is what you might call a character flaw of mine.
I jam my eyes shut and shield my head as I’m pummeled relentlessly by the thudding of fists and short bladed weapons on my new and impermeable skin.
Getting sick of it after a couple of seconds I open my eyes and loosen my guard just a smidgen only to receive a bone dagger to my right eye as it finds an un-resisting surface. Jamming the eye shut I swing out with my arms and bellow in pained rage:
You have slain a Goblin Scout level 2, no experience awarded due to level disparity.
1 Manamote acquired from Goblin Scout.
You have slain a Goblin Scout level 1, no experience awarded due to level disparity.
You have slain a Goblin Spearman level 4, no experience awarded due to level disparity.
2 Manamotes acquired from Goblin Spearman.
You have slain a Goblin Scout level 1, no experience awarded due to level disparity.
You have slain a Goblin Spearman level 3, no experience awarded due to level disparity.
1 Manamotes acquired from Goblin Spearman.
You have slain a Goblin Scout level 1, no experience awarded due to level disparity.
My little outburst in the center of the one sided assault, leads to several cracking sounds followed by some wet thuds, as there is a lull in activity from my attackers. Ignoring the slew of blue boxes I use the pause to yank the sharp implement from my eyes bloody socket and open my good eye to assess the situation.
It turns out that my two fiddy strength has more applications than just super jumps. Due to the fact that when I swung my arms akimbo in my blind rage, I apparently took out two thirds of the combatants given the sprawled bodies with limbs at impossible angles of the greenies none too far from me.
Feeling pressure in my weeping eye socket I gingerly touch it and find the wound is already fucking closed.
Noticing the rest of the combatants now giving me a wide berth I hear a grating voice scream.
“IT’S MINE”
With only one eye and a reduced field of vision, I barely notice a glowing orange and red sphere until it’s almost upon me. Instinctively, I cast a maximum [Minor Repulse] on the thing and watch it rapidly degrease in size until it makes contact with something and releases a small explosion followed by what I’m assuming is the caster begin to run around on fire whilst screaming incoherently.
Smacking my head for being an idiot for what feels like at least the twentieth time this evening, I start putting my newfound skills to work.
Casting a maximum [Minor Field of Gravity Increase] I swivel my head and grin like a sacrosanct one eyed pirate as I see the goblins who had recently being wailing on me are either struggling to stay upright or just plain parallel with the ground while they release something like a bassier version of a pigs squeal.
I go about skewering their sparsely white haired heads with one of their own janky-ass spears as I rack up some more blue boxes:
Minor Field of Gravity Increase has increased to level 4.
You have slain a Goblin Spearman level 4, no experience awarded due to level disparity.
You have slain a Goblin Scout level 2, no experience awarded due to level disparity.
You have slain a Goblin Scout level 1, no experience awarded due to level disparity.
You have slain a Goblin Scout level 1, no experience awarded due to level disparity.
Minor Field of Gravity Increase has increased to level 5.
You have slain a Goblin Spearman level 5, no experience awarded due to level disparity.
You have slain a Goblin Scout level 2, no experience awarded due to level disparity.
Distracted by my melon poking I notice to late as another of the flaming projectiles nears me and I just look up in time to watch it start to take a steep dive toward the ground before landing on my fucking foot.
Jumping back in fright I sail through the air and land with a thud and a cracking sound as the sheer stump I accost with my clown feet, protests my presence. Taking a quick squiz at my supposed to be burnt foot, I’m pleasantly surprised by its altogether lack of crispy-ness. Experimentally opening my once knife sheath for an eyelid, I start to laugh maniacally in literal light of my customary bifocal vision having been miraculously restored.
Using said sight I scan for the would be barbequer, to share my good cheer.
Seems the goblin who’s fireball I returned to sender had a friend who was none too pleased about me flambéing his mate and is making with the famley flamey once more, by the time I locate them slightly in front of the ridiculously big bonfire.
The next fireball shoots toward me and I cast [Minor Repulse] when it gets close enough and happily watch it return to its rightful owner as I begin to sprint after it over the stump studded ground.
Almost catchup to it, I’ve clearly forgotten I’m basically 25 times faster than I used to be and come to a skidding stop, while the flame bathes the opportunistic bastard in pain.
Getting warned that I’m a dead man when I go to sleep, I cast [Minor Field of Gravity Increase] and hear more pig like squeals join the recently ignited goblin torch’s screaming. The smell like that of a sausage sizzle, fills my nose when I turn to find that the cooks and a much larger blue goblin that’s about a meter taller than me are struggling to advance toward me.
Casting [Increase Gravity] on the big’un I watch him collapse instantaneously from its strained stance as squishy cracking sounds come out from his body, while he turns to a blue and red unsightly puddle on the ground. About the time it’s giant ass cleaver lands next to its flesh puddle and sinks in to the jungle floor to the hilt I also get a notification of my good deed:
You have slain a Goblin Chieftain level 7, no experience awarded due to level disparity.
Stalking toward the rest of the squealing goblins I ease their pain with a combination of spear thrusts and [Increase Gravity] when the sole survivor tries to leg it for safety after my [Minor Field of Gravity Increase] runs out:
You have slain a Goblin Cook level 2, no experience awarded due to level disparity.
You have slain a Goblin Cook level 3, no experience awarded due to level disparity.
You have slain a Goblin Shaman level 4, no experience awarded due to level disparity.
You have slain a Goblin Cook level 2, no experience awarded due to level disparity.
Minor Field of Gravity Increase has increased to level 6.
You have slain a Goblin Shaman level 4, no experience awarded due to level disparity.
You have slain a Goblin Cook level 2, no experience awarded due to level disparity.
Dismissing the rest of the notifications I scan around the vacant and disheveled camp as I look for anything usable amidst the broken and bleeding monsters. Feeling my stomach growl my eyes seek out one of the cauldrons the cooks were goblin-ing.
Stalking through the remains of their gathering I catch a whiff of the cauldrons contents and begin to salivate at the stew like aroma that finds me.
Not even feeling the heat from the fire still crackling below it, I peer over the waist high steaming lip of the large vessel and swat away the steam to get a better look at its contents.
Tripping over backwards at the shock and revulsion I feel due to salivating over my own species, I try and fail completely to wipe the image of a child’s head with matted and slick hair buoyantly bobbing on the stews surface as its two overcooked eye sockets stare up at me.
Dry heaving where I’m sprawled, I turn on my side and try to empty a stomach already devoid of meaningful content, coating the ground with a pathetic slather of bile instead.
After lying there in shock for a time, I force myself to engage with reality again as I get told to just kill myself while I start to mechanically collate the information I have so far in a bid to anchor my psyche.
People have been given magical abilities and physical improvements that advance through use and killing.
There are monsters that want to eat everything, including each other.
Everyone no matter their age has been chucked into this mess.
I haven’t found another surviving human.
Karen might be controlling translucent arrows
I have either gotten extremely lucky or I should be able to at least fight off most monsters.
Max is dead and a monster killed him.
Rage fills me again as I fixate on the last summation, having to engage in a breathing exercise for several repetitions to center my thoughts again.
A cold calm eventually takes hold and I think about what I want to actually do now.
What I should conventionally do now and what I can actually achieve, instead of just continuing to wing it and walking from one mess to another like some disaster junkie.
What I want is to kill every last motherfucking monster and eliminate those that did this to my already pitiful life and the rest of humanity.
What I should do is see if there is any shelter and if possible help people along the way, even if my illness makes it difficult to interact, they don’t deserve to die because of my crazy.
What I can do realistically is try and hold it together for the second option long enough to at least get a better lay of the land.
The massive bonfire is still burning to my right a good 30 meters away, but its heat fails to reach me as I methodically go around the ex-goblin camp and [Minor Repulse] the still simmering cauldrons into it, hopefully returning the stews victims some semblance of peace in their afterlife.
Grudgingly I go around and use [Minor Field of Gravity Decrease] to cause the goblins bodies to float in the air and touch then to collect their manamotes then unceremoniously send them into the towering inferno so as not to attract scavengers.
When my work is done I only pocket a measly 31 manamotes and grumble at how stingy the system is.
In the post-apocalyptic web novels I used to frequently binge, I would have been rolling in women, money and prestige by now, but nooooo I had to go and get stuck in the shitty realistic version of the apocalypse now didn’t I!
Settling to watch the remains of the green bastard’s burn, dark thoughts cloud my mind as voices pile on for malicious effect.