Battleforged
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Chapter 207 - Critical Hit
🕑 Added 2022-10-28 04:00:04 +0000 UTC“You have shown your true colors, asshole! You wish to side with humanity’s enemies? Then you can join them in death!”
Eric roared the words, but sure as hell wasn’t waiting for a response, his overhand right doing a hell of a lot more than just stunning the bloated administrator to speechlessness. Narri’s panicked features immediately deformed in an explosion of crimson gore, rippling from the shockwave generated by Eric’s fist like striking a puddle of water, the liquefied remains then incinerated by an explosion of fire so hot that there was absolutely no chance of his enemy sending off any final Interface messages to any of his cronies or allies.
Or so Eric hoped, having had to give his enemy one moment of exquisite agony to appreciate his own well deserved death, now refusing to waste even one more heartbeat of time, unsheathing and striking with his blade before Narri’s corpse even struck the ground.
Eric’s sword cleaved through the air in a flash of wind and flame that that left a surprised expression on the closest guard blinking at Eric in utter confusion. Before his lips twisted in a mocking smile of relief when his eyes registered just how far away he was from the tip of Eric’s blade. Only then did he raise his bullpup blaster right before his eyes rolled back in his head before collapsing to the ground in a spray of entrails and blood, his torso neatly cleaved in two.
Windfire Strike has critically struck your opponent!
30 Qi expended!
Your fully healed peripheral meridians welcome the surge of power now flooding your veins!
Eric paid no mind to the almost mocking voice in his head.
Already knowing that what he had done was madness, that his peripherals had been all but clogged with forbidden arts he could only now wield safely as a cultivator, thanks to his Primal Adventurer masterclass. A class that was little more than a System enticement, but one that held such promise that Eric was willing even to bargain with that devil that would shape all their souls, if it meant unlimited power over the decades or centuries to come. The fact that it had also healed his peripheral channels in the time he had been lost in a pod-induced trance, said louder than words ever could that even a cultivator’s independence was but a dream the System merely condescended to allow its tools, a mere illusion of freedom. As if the entire struggle of a cultivator’s ascension could be effortlessly replicated, perhaps perfected, by the monstrous AI with which they all struggled to overcome and ascend.
A chilling revelation Eric had instantly understood with his exquisitely cathartic punches, obliterating a target who’s absurdly high-end arcane forcefield couldn’t hope to survive a single punch infused with all the spiritual energy Eric could muster.
Then all such troubling thoughts left him, Eric having no time for anything save the fiery hot crucible of battle, weaving and spinning past an arcane blaster carbine spitting plasma fire before slipping completely free of stunned fingers, the remaining bodyguard crashing to the ground in stunned disbelief, gazing down at the seven foot long javelin that had just blasted through his laminated chestplate.
Instant soul-bound weapon transfer in effect.
Mithril Dachi traded for Pilum!
Weapon Skill evolution (finally!) chosen.
Piercing Strike has Critically Struck your target! - 5 Soul Reserve points expended.
But Eric had already turned away to focus on his ultimate target, ears alone picking out the dying guard’s abrupt shriek choking off in a hideous groan and a shower of splattering sizzling blood, Eric knowing full well just how destructive a 4000 degree steel shank could be to any man’s innards.
Eric then tuned out his surroundings entirely, all his senses now dialed in on the foe before him.
Time seemed to stretch and slow as the Shaman screeched, looking at the bodies crashing to the ground with bug-eyed disbelief, as Eric sprinted for all he was worth.
His foe just 10 paces away.
Only then did the goblin shaman turn to Eric. It’s own terror turning to fury as countless arcane wards flared to angry life, supercharging itself like never before.
Now just 5 paces away.
“You will pay for that!” The shaman screamed. “Death to the Silver Clan! Death to all you hold dear! Fulment Igni—“
Words cut off with a surprised hiss when a roaring Eric pierced the goblin’s force field point first with his blade. The artificial shield generator his Interface immediately pinged as being a Class 2 Restricted Item whined desperately as it futilely sought to slow the advance of a mithril blade now white hot with spiritual energy that slid right through the shield’s arcane mesh like a cold-eyed killer ramming his lard-slicked blade past the desperate grasping hands of his target. Eric glared with a fury that transcended mere hate at the goblin elder shrieked for mercy in his native tongue, so deep was his panic, before Eric bathed him in a whirlwind of wrath and flame.
Find Weakness skillcheck – Critical Success!
You now understand the strengths and weaknesses of a Restricted Power Shield just as well as its maker! You now know just how to pierce arcane mesh fields with Spiritual-Energy laced strikes that slip right through!
Windfire Strike has obliterated your opponent!
You have successfully slain 3 Level 30 opponents! You have successfully slain 1 Mixed-Tier opponent! (60 total levels)
Experience Earned!
Cultivation has bottle-necked!
No necromantic skills or revenants are currently in play.
Only one of your classes may currently make use of Battlefield Potency!
Maximum Potency to Skill Rank Conversion is NO LONGER in effect!
Primal Adventurer is now level 11!
Primal Adventurer is now level 12!
Primal Adventurer is now level 13!
Primal Adventurer is now level 14!
Primal Adventurer is now level 15!
Primal Adventurer is now level 16!
Primal Adventurer is now level 17!
Windfire Strike is now Level 4!
Fire Fist is now Level 3! (Go, go, Super Punch Man!)
Eric’s eyes widened with something close to awe, feeling the sweet surge of power now flooding his soul.
While desperately trying to hold onto his sense himself.
He was determined that however his body, and mind, were to transform, it would be he that would do the shaping. The transforming. His will alone that would forge him into the person he most wanted to be.
Most needed to be, as the final desperate shrieks of his enemy’s cry rang through his head once more.
(1 Point invested into Scholarship, your memory sharpening unexpectedly in the crucible of battle! 62 Points remaining.)
“Kill him!” Had been the vile little monster’s final words.
Which meant that Eric wasn’t alone.
And that his enemy’s trump cards had included more than blaster-wielding henchmen, Tier 2 force-shields, and an administrator’s contractual writs of binding.
But the true source of his revelation was his danger sense screaming at him to MOVE!
Eric sprung back and rolling faster than he ever had before, senses so acute that the rustle of grass was a thousand individual notes, the coppery tang of blood coating the back of his throat now identifiable as four separate corpses, detecting the unique stench of ruptured bowels, horrified to find he even knew what they had had for dinner the night before… revelations ruthlessly shoved aside as he focused on the only thing that mattered… the telltale flash of light on a rifle stock so like his own, those exquisitely deadly anti-material rifles resistant to most things including paint, it seemed. A singular flaw that shadows, cover, and class skills could no doubt compensate for.
But all Eric needed was a single flash of light from any of the enemies he just knew were out there, zeroing in on him from flat grassy terrain. Great for assuring artillery mastery of the terrain, during daylight hours at least, and great for field of fire as well. But without appropriate camouflage, the predator would be spotted by the prey easily enough, and with Perception blazing brighter than ever before as time itself seemed to slow with Eric’s desperate seconds-long search, even a shifting bit of canvas would clash with the background grasslands to Eric’s fearsome Perception.
Or so he prayed, feeling suddenly overwhelmed and outgunned by foes utterly invisible to him.
Until suddenly they weren’t, just a heartbeat later, as another threshold was crossed, his Perception now nothing short of profound.
(17 Points invested into Perception! A true hunter’s senses are unveiled in the heart of battle. You have learned to FOCUS, when in the sights of your foe. 45 Unspent Points remaining.)
Perception is now 80!
You have achieved a Milestone!
Danger Sense, Find Weakness, and all other Perception skills will now enjoy enhanced efficacy.
You sense DEATH rapidly approaching!
He could sense it perfectly, the play of light and shadow in the swaying grass, his eyes all but drawn to the one knoll that didn’t seem quite right.
Hiding as it did, so much malice and death.
Yet even with an eighty in Perception synergizing so perfectly his his Quickness, allowing him to think and process almost as quickly as he could react, to such a degree that time seemed to slow even as details grew crisper, sharper.
Yet still it wasn’t enough.
Nowhere near enough time to duck before white-hot plasma tore through his neck, kissing the one area of his body that both his heat resistant scale armor and his mithril mail could only guard to limited effect, Mithril mail infused with so much spiritual energy to splay and scatter the force of any attack, that only resulted in agony beyond comprehension as multiple assassin perks synergized in the darkest of unions, a much reduced and scattered pulse of plasma still more than enough to sear through lungs, liver, heart, and nearly every organ save his brain as he crashed to the ground, his interface screaming of multiple critical hits.
Regeneration cancelling critical hits, his death now all but assured, stunned by shock, agony, and perks designed to both cripple and kill, as the same assassins made the very same million to one shot that had nearly killed his sister.
Assassins his blood mark only now connected him to, their supernatural shadow-cloaking magics parting only long enough for the kill shot, bitter irony allowing Eric to feel his foe’s malice, the way they cackled and barked like jackals, sharing gleeful yips and smiles and high-fives.
“We did it, Zorg! Took out that stupid little shit and earned the five million bonus! Now all we gotta do is tag his whore of a sister, and grab the full twenty million bonus for ourselves!”
The spotter yipped with glee, spring up to do a little dance, before frowning down at the cold-eyed goblin still keeping his sights where the human had fallen, the knee-high grass blocking his view, but only for a moment, adjusting his scope along light waves best suited for taking out prey under light cover.
“Zorg?”
“Shutup, shithead! We need to finish this annoying fuck! Old man says he probably took out Zeta Company. Only an idiot underestimates a headache like that! We keep our eyes on him until the corpse is cold!” Snapped the shooter Zorg, while their third, a proficient jack of all trades and capable of filling either of their roles, kept his eyes open for trouble, his arcane carbine held at the ready.
Shithead just cackled. “I can’t believe he actually killed sour-face! Stupid elder tried to short-change our last hit. I’m glad the fucker’s dead! Still can’t believe he actually took out an administrator, though.”
“Ballsey fuck, I’ll give him that,” said their third while picking at his canines and scratching his thick bristly fur. “But you’d better report it, once we get back to Freetown. Massive Council bounty for any proof of administerial foul play, and fuck if we won’t be rich before the week is out!”
The sniper snorted. “And that’s why we waited. Waited for it all to play out, no matter what elder Fuckwad wanted. Now he’s dead, and we’ll be up another fifty million. So shut the fuck up and let me… Bertha’s frosty tits, what the hell is that!?”
Eric used the last of his rapidly fading strength to squeeze tight his ring and scream his will allowed, desperate hand grasping salvation he hadn’t dared to hope for. He cried out for the only ones who could possibly help him as one pair of lumbering hoof-stomps became five, a lick of energy fed to his hoped-for salvation as he felt his strength began to fade even from his tightly gripped fist, praying he wouldn’t lose his grip as he allowed his awareness to spiral away into a desperate dream of his own body’s ruptured heart, desperately visualizing inhuman vitality squeezing tight ruptured arteries and muscles as myosin fibers and clotting factors burst into being, patchwork bandages stemming oblivion’s call as his body worked frantically to stabilize itself, ragged breaths wheezing with renewed desperation, renewed focus, even as he coughed up frothy pink blood, body blazing with heat as even System-enhanced flesh was pushed to the absolute limit, fighting against wounds so devastating that only a killer’s perks would allow death such free reign.
Your body has been infused with Vitality born of desperation, as you transcend all past limits, your will to live, your sheer vitality, far greater, and far more profound, than even you thought possible!
20 Points spent, 25 remaining!
But it was not enough. Eric wanted to cry out with exhaustion even as he sensed a gentle pair of tusks lift up his inert body and slowly press him against the opaque crystalline panels of his Tier 2 Ascension facility, massive hooves echoing across near indestructible tiles before a shell was lifted with a pneumatic hiss and Eric found himself gently tossed inside, the faint thud of additional bodies thumping inside the facility all he heard before he was lost in dreams of death once more. Lost in a desperate fight to stabilize countless billions of dying cells as he struggled to make his lungs obey his commands and for a scarred heart to beat for all it was worth as arteries squeezed tight against spurting wounds, Eric now flooding his entire body with Spiritual Energy in a desperate struggle to live, as his health crashed to zero.
