Quick to obey, Hattie aimed at the nearest goblin and cast heal. A flickering white light passed from her to the goblin. A white flower pedal that floated into the goblin’s chest, shattering the underground world in a cascade of lightning.
Twelve bolts of lightning arced from the ceiling into the lead goblins. Smiting them dead on the spot. The scent of burnt hair and broiled flesh assaulted their noses, unsettling the humans and spurring the goblin’s bloodlust. Blinded by lightning the goblins flailed forward. Attacking anything in front of them in a frenzy to win the human lottery. No single goblin could threaten an adventurer, so none bothered to try, they all swung blindly, hoping that their blow would be the coup de grace.
Hattie’s divine eyes pierced the lightning, rebuffing the flashes with divine protection. She alone witnessed what truly occurred. Tantalus was keeping his word. Each goblin who advanced towards the humans received a high level smite, one that arced through armor and attacked the very core of these goblins. They had ignored his warnings and were now reaping his furious sprouts. Twelve goblins fried at a time, their respawn timers pausing at 600s. His warning was clearer than death, yet as quiet as a whisper, “obey my warning or cease to exist.”
Few goblins were intelligent enough to notice the paused respawns of their brethren. Most did not fear for their existence until the lightning struck.
Kendra healed her eyes first, curing the lightning blindness.
“Hold still Konrad!” She shouted.
Blind and Dazed, Konrad trusted his love, blindly raising his shield and holding the mace at a low ready in front of them. Kendra thumped into him, tucking herself between his armored chest and shield arm while she healed his eyes.
Together they prevented additional lightning blindness by overlapping their shields. Kendra glanced at Hattie, watching as the youngest adventurer stared into the light with focused eyes. A shiver ran down her spine as she witnessed Divine protection.
Hattie’s unblinking eyes felt each of the lightning strikes, the electric concussion battering the tools of an oracle. Curiosity held her gaze, as Level up! alerts rained into her consciousness. Nara swore in her ear, snapping her out of her revelry.
“Can’t see a bloody thing! Why is it always the eyes damnit!”
Hattie could feel the muscles in Nara’s legs tense and relax, an adventurer ready to act, yet blind and knowing the safest place was exactly where she was.
“Hold still.” Whispered Hattie, placing her hand on Nara’s forehead.
“Heal!” Commanded Hattie, her soft voice at odds with Nara’s returning sight.
“Protect!” Added Hattie.
With both spells cast, Hattie’s MP dwindled, a worthy price for Nara’s sight. A once lost treasure she safeguarded with one hand, the other hand covering Hattie’s eyes.
“Remind me to ask Konrad for some glasses! That’s twice I've been blinded in this dungeon.” Hissed Nara.
Hattie raised a hand to remove Nara’s hand fingers caressing the half elves’ softness. She froze. Somehow finding herself unable to reject the protection. Her hand wafted across Nara’s and this time, she wove their fingers together, embracing the comforting touch of another human being.
Judgment day continued until twenty three goblins remained. Of the twenty three, seventeen were the armored goblins and the remaining six were goblins with unusually high intelligence stats. Goblins who had made the mistake of allocating attributes into their intelligence score instead of strength.
As the lightning subsided, Hattie covered her mouth and nose with her sleeve, attempting to reduce the ghoulish stench emanating from the ‘ozone de goblin’. Satharis sneezed, whipping his head to roll a lazy fireball through Goblinville. Its heat set the yurts ablaze and sent the armored goblins diving for cover, obliterating anything around the rolling blaze.
Silence reigned in Goblinville.
A sovereignty that lasted less than a minute. Six unarmored goblins reappeared, their thin forms bustling through Goblinville, extinguishing fires, and retrieving what loot they could, a few seized the day and slipped small daggers or talismans into their clothes. Moving so casually one would be forgiven for thinking nothing had happened. That no grand massacre had occurred.
The armored chief goblins formed a line, advancing as a group until they hemmed in three of their minions. Orders were grunted in their goblin tongue, a language full of guttural yuks and growling mutters. A medium sized goblin, wearing a familiar breastplate, tossed a club into the ring. Restarting the bloodsport with an armored smile.
Two of the goblins ran forward, punching and biting each other as they attempted to secure the weapon, knowing whomever claimed the club would beat the other to death with it. The lead goblin jabbed his finger into his opponent’s eye, his dirty fingernail piercing the jelly sac and liberating its contents onto their hooked nose.
The one eyed gobbo shrieked in agony as his skull was fingered, his pain fueled him. Turning his head sharply, he trapped the finger in his ruined eye socket. Reaching up he grasped the goblin’s trapped hand and pulled. Bones creaked, stretched to their limit before breaking, taking out the tendons of the once conquering gobbo. Broken finger screeched, flopping directly back from the one eyed gobbo.
He fell onto his buttocks, extending his good hand to catch himself. To his shocked glee, his hand caught more than stone, landing directly on the club he was seeking.
Hoots of laughter burst from the armored chiefs. A sound that rose to a crescendo as broke finger raised the club above his head, shouting in triumph. He had the club! He had-
A rock pummeled his nose. Fracturing the pointy appendage with a moist crunch. Broke finger would have screamed, but the rock had broken his teeth, choking off any sounds. One eye found another rock and pitched it at broke finger’s twin jewels.
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“Blaaaarrgggg,” was all Broke finger could manage to choke out as the rock scored a direct hit, a ‘goblin’s eye’ if you will.
One eye wrestled the club out of broke finger’s hand, promptly beating the injured goblin into a coma. Then he beat him some more, ensuring the loser’s death. One eye stood triumphant, waving the club above his head and howling a challenge at the armored goblins who found his bravado to be quite hilarious. They roared with laughter, slapping knees and backs.
A raucous uproar echoed through the cavern. Followed by the pounding of hands against armored knees as the chiefs applauded their minion’s success.
Only one goblin remained motionless, the goblin wearing Eric’s old breastplate. Hattie finally recognized the armor, flashing back to Eric’s last seconds of life. It was his armor, his enchanted armor that the chief of the armored chiefs was wearing. His status window became visible to her.
Name: Gurk
Class: Goblin
Rank: 99
HP 355/355
Respawn: 600s or 50,000 MP
Strength 36
Agility 20
Intelligence 27
Hattie did not bother with his talents, hell, she barely focused on anything after his rank. A level 99 goblin was right there in front of her, a goblin had used her talent to gain levels that belonged to her. She should be level 99! Not him!
It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. They had stolen her talent and profited more than she could ever hope too.
In a flash, she remembered the name from her first visit to the dungeon. Gurk had been the highest leveled goblin back then, the pinnacle of goblinkind at level 5.
“Satharis. I need you to kill them all.” Ordered Hattie.
Satharis turned to look at her, eyebrows raised at her demand.
“Watch your tongue, I am a dragon, not some pet! I have stared into the abyss of Hades and survived. Can you even comprehend what I have-” Sneered Satharis.
“You promised XP! Will you keep your end of our bargain or not?” Interrupted Hattie.
Satharis’ blue eyes narrowed. His mind weighing the possible outcomes of incinerating the annoying girl on his back. His lips pulled back, revealing rows of ivory spears.
“Ha.” Laughed Satharis. The single syllable sending a shiver down their spines. “You are either a fool who I will soon devour, or…” Began Satharis, bringing his eye within arm’s reach of Hattie.
“You comprehend your value.”
He blinked once. Examining Hattie’s frail human body with a newfound zeal. Giving her the distinct impression of a wolf eyeing a lone sheep. Satharis spun his head around, aiming his ire at the goblin chieftains he bellowed in their own tongue.
“Gurk! I require your death and the deaths of all goblins present. Strip or lose your booty.”
“Hey boss! This ere armor is the shiny goods. Can’t go eaving it around in the dirt.” Retorted Gurk.
“Ten… Nine…” Said Satharis, beginning the shortest countdown of their brief lives.
Gurk stripped. His fingers moved like lightning, removing the armor as if something more precious than life was about to be lost. The other goblins mirrored their chief, discarding their weapons and armor into a nearby tent with a ferocity that collapsed the yurt.
“Boss! Gurk a loyal gob. Spawn Gurk first!'' Pleaded the goblin, tossing his breastplate and helmet into the yurt.
The other chiefs were slow on the uptake, but when they saw Gurk beg for a favor they echoed him. Desperate to avoid being outmaneuvered by Gurk. Pleas of “Spawn me first, I’s loyal” and “Lyin Gurk! Zob’s loyaler!” abounded.
Satharis slowed his count just long enough for the goblins to strip, then he hit them with real dragonfire. His inferno burnt their pleas to cinders, a heat wave hit the party, making them double over and hide behind shields. This was nothing like Satharis’ sneeze, this was a gateway into Hades. Level up! notifications filled Hattie’s vision, bombarding her with a dizzying cascade. She had miscalculated, goblins were lesser creatures and ‘Curiosity’ only gave her a fraction of the accrued XP, but the level differential applied a third modifier.
One that boosted her level beyond her wildest dreams.
She lost track of how many notifications appeared in her mind, knowing that she would not dare accept the level ups without Kendra’s advice. Nara wrapped an arm around Hattie’s waist as the teen teetered, swaying on Satharis’ back, dizzy as her mind was assaulted by the sudden influx of power.
She had lost everything on the day of her sixteenth birthday, and now, as if some cruel god sought to mock her life’s work, she was given more than she could ever obtain. Deep within her heart the truth simmered, knowing Grandpa Quade’s level was a goal beyond her dreams.
Level fifty was the highest rank she thought possible. Now, she blew past that marker. Sailing into the realm of legendary heroes and kings. Then her level surpassed theirs, rising into the eighties where it fizzled. Grinding to a stop somewhere past eighty five.
“Hattie, Hattie!” Called someone.
Hattie couldn’t place the speaker, their voice was so familiar yet so distant.
“Hattie!” Shouted a voice.
Hands touched her forehead, a cooling sensation against the fever of a level cascade, her frail body shivered, unconsciously accepting the mana of another healer. It was not enough. Darkness covered her eyes, and Hattie faded from reality.
—
Fallbrook’s harvest had been successful beyond the captain in white’s wildest estimations. For some akashic reason, the humans seemed to consolidate their corpses, burying those from nearby towns in Fallbrook’s subterranean catacombs. Resulting in a bounty so plentiful that his wanton use of hellfire on friend and foe had gone unnoticed. One more mistake by the Liche Lords, they were making his hostile takeover of their pantheon all too easy.
He strode through a recently discovered catacomb, perusing the many talismans and trinkets the dead took to their graves. Many of the dead held trinkets of piddling value, necklaces of spell immunity or enchanted armor that could have saved their lives. Mere tokens of appreciation left behind for the red eyed captain in white and gold.
“Bah, Hephestus keeps the best for himself, none of these are worthy of my eminence. Distribute these among the wights.” Snapped Hades, waving a hand to his wight escort.
He stooped to examine a nearby corpse, caressing the skeleton by running his middle finger down the length of a femur. Skeletons made for excellent fodder, lightweight, yet compactable. Spears and arrows did little to them, so armor was often unnecessary, allowing them to be stacked or intertwined and tucked into any nook or cranny aboard the ship. With their lack of flesh there was less material to absorb mana, and less material to waste mana. A skeleton could never obtain the raw power of a wight or vampire, but he needed volume to compliment his own qualities.
Skeletons were everything the Lich Lords desired and none of what Hades’ truely needed, he already had millions of souls and thousands of skeletons, yet it was not enough. They could be conquered by a single Liche. No, what he needed were competent servants, beings able to shrug off the effects of a spell and keep fighting. Crystalline golems or a vampire immune to magic would be perfect for his plans.
Though at this point in the invasion he would settle for a gorgon or an arachnid assassin. They would have to be paired with an antimagic partner, such as a spell breaker or oracle. Divine classes that he had not found amongst the Fallbrook survivors.
The cattle had failed him once again.
“Somewhere on this continent are the people I need. Just you wait, soon I will come for you. Grow strong for me, gain your meaningless levels and adorn your crushable throats with Hephestus’ trinkets. Then I will make you evolve.” Growled Hades.
With a wave of his hand he animated every skeleton in sight. Magic whirled around the room, glueing skeletal remains into complete skeletons. Over a hundred undead rose from their graves, each a wonder of arcane might.
The expenditure of a million MP barely registered to him. His MP bar filled as quickly as he could spend, ah, it felt good to feel his mana flow again, to expend his power doing something. Hades’ house was often quiet, Cerberus and Chiron kept the souls in check, while his half elf adoptees formed his swords and spears. There here hundreds of the demigods now, all bitter orphans whose cursed genes had sired stillborn babies. Hades smiled at the flaw he had engineered, cackling to himself at the trick he had snuck by Zeus. When his brother finally realized what was happening, it would be too late to save him from the halfie’s wrath.
Hades formed the reanimated skeletons into a new squadron, sending his half elven son to prepare the squadron. He would check them for flaws or any sign of disloyalty, then and only then, would he give the Liche Lords their due. They had already demanded a cut of Fallbrook, stealing souls and animations from their captains to be delivered the moment the black ships had docked. Thinking that if they did not give their servants time to prepare, they would not find a knife in their back.
Hades had already paid the tribute, giving them no reason to think he had withheld living humans for his own purposes. They would break soon, humans could not withstand his ministrations for long, and when they broke, he knew exactly where to send them.
Humanity loved their wars, and a few recruits from a fallen city would be welcomed into the achaean ranks. Sleeper agents who could act as his eyes and ears across the continent. Servants who would work in the shadows until the moment was ripe.