Battleforged
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Chapter 171 - He Would Get Stronger At All Costs
🕑 Added 2022-09-08 04:00:02 +0000 UTCFor long moments Eric, still perfectly aware of the rustling branches heavy with magical fruit all around him, and the massive boar glaring at him from a safe distance away, just stared at his Interface sheet, surprised despite himself by just how far he had come.
It wasn’t that long ago that he had been a broken young man covered in scars, just a single vicious rat bite away from death, with a Strength and Vitality of 8, and a face so hideous only a mother could love. Though not his mother.
Now, he looked so strikingly handsome that Aurelia would be foaming at the mouth with eagerness to force him into yet more leading rolls, the hell with his lack of acting ability. He could fight and look good and die heroically with his sister sobbing over his corpse, just like in their last production, maybe giving a few motivational speeches to his men in a powerful baritone voice before the final cut scenes, going for a leader vibe more than an acting vibe, and maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t make a complete ass of himself.
He chuckled ruefully at the thought, shaking his head at the way he instinctively strategized how best to please his mother, a women he both missed terribly and hoped never to see again. But he was now the farthest thing from the fragile, emotionally needy kid he had been before.
In a world where a Gold medalist might have a 20 Strength, because there most definitely was a bell curve, his was utterly off the charts at an absurd 69, along with a Vitality that allowed him to regenerate almost 5 health every second, and a Finesse so high he could reliably strike the base of an enemy’s spine, with the tip of a superheated javelin no less, at a range of 100 yards.
His inhuman stats basically allowed him to chuck spears as accurate and deadly as any rifled shotgun. Range wasn’t forever, but like a shotgun, when he hit something, his foe wasn’t getting up anytime soon.
And if he pushed himself and arced his spear, sacrificing pinpoint accuracy for range and power, his javelins could go well beyond a hundred yards, Journeyman skill status synergizing so well with inhuman Finesse that, besides assuring pinpoint accuracy and cat-like grace, was also responsible, along with his Perception and most especially his maxium potency to skill rank conversion, for learning and mastering martial skills so damned fast that it was nothing short of surreal.
Almost as fast as the characters in his favorite Skydragon campaign skilled up, perhaps.
Almost.
Not that he didn’t do his part, training daily with his weapons of choice, every evening working to throw lightning fast jabs followed by a sharp, clean right hooks cracking against the reinforced slabs of undead flesh so hard that the entire cavern would shake. But dozens of devoted hours still weren’t the hundreds or thousands he knew on some level it should take to reach his degree of skill, enhanced all the more by his superhuman stats.
Perception Check made!
Skills he put to use in the blink of an eye, when a certain ballsy boar thought he had the drop on Eric, charging from behind with a certain unexpected grace, which for the porcine horrors meant simply not squealing when they charged.
Eric allowed himself a tiny smile as the massive freight train of pork meat closed the gap, plowing forward like a runaway truck.
Eric exhilarated in the pounding of his heart as time seemed to stretch and slow, for all that his blade was unsheathed in the blink of an eye as he darted left and slid so close to the massive boar’s sweet-soaked flanks he could kiss it.
The now squealing boar was fruitlessly goring the air, surprised beady eyes now searching for seemingly easy prey had disappeared in the blink of an eye.
Iado Skillcheck made.
Doomslice! Doomslice! Doomslice!
Only to be struck by a far harsher surprise, pain from a series of strikes so blindingly fast that it only registered after the fact, the entire flank Eric had passed now spraying the loamy forest floor with overlapping sheets of crimson-covered entrails steaming upon the ground as the massive beast squealed and sought to pivot and turn on shaking legs that suddenly collapsed as Eric calmly resheathed his heat-cleansed blade before darting forward so fast that the boar couldn’t track him, squeeling in alarm when it abruptly found himself eye to eye with Eric gazing at the tusker almost sadly, hands folded behind his back, flashing a sympathetic smile.
“You fought well, warrior of the forest. It’s time for you to rest now.”
And in the time it took for a final confused blink, Eric had pivoted and twisted, flanking the beast as he drew and sliced, parting the massive beast’s neck with a single carefully delivered cleaving strike, without the use of any Perk save his own well-honed technique. It was far more difficult than it would have been with bardiche, Eric’s strength making the weapon in his hands the equivalent of a sharpened reed, lighter even than an edged smallsword would be in his hands just a year ago, compared to the power he could now generate with a far heavier blade.
Which meant that he was forced to rely on Quickness, Finesse, and skill alone
Just the way it should be, he thought, so that when he did switch from saber to bardiche in the blink of an eye, lighting fast slashes instantly transforming to devastating armor-sheering strikes, his foes wouldn’t have a chance in hell of countering his blows.
He took a deep breath of air smelling of blood, ruptured entrails, and sweetest victory, before making full use of the fallen tusker in his attempts to synergize the use of saber, bardiche, and spear into one unified hole.
Some time later, a panting Eric was gazing down at the absolutely shredded corpse with a satisfied nod, taking bleak comfort in the fact that should any asshole try to get the drop on him in Freetown, no matter how thick their armor or tough they thought they were, they’d be getting the surprise of their lives.
And that was when he felt it. A sudden heat that was both exhilarating, yet filled his still partially clogged meridians with a white hot pain so close to what he experienced with the peaches the couple times he had gotten just a bit too close to the swaying branches holding such ripe spiritual bounties.
Eric’s eyes glittered with dread and awe and a growing sense of wonder when he caught sight of the massive tusker radiating spiritual energy like fire, gazing at him from well over a mile away.
Even from where he stood, the spiritual pressure was such that it was all Eric could do not to fall on his knees, the beast so awesome that none lacking its own perfection dared approach.
The final evolution, perhaps, of the countless bristlebacks rooting and devouring what trace fruit were surrendered by the branches overhead. And for all the tusker’s flaws, they were so skilled at foraging that not even once in all the weeks that he had been here, had he been able to score a single fruit surrendered to the forest floor that a the massive hogs hadn’t claimed minutes or hours before.
Eric trembled under a gaze holding an odd sentience and wisdom even as he hissed with a dull throb that he was coldly certain would turn to a sharp ripping pain and the absolute destruction of his cultivation base, should the beast he could sense so clearly despite a mile’s worth of forest between them choose to charge forward.
Instead, he was measured by eyes far too sentient for any spirit beast.
As if they measured all his virtues and flaws.
Noting his fierce devotion to the hunt, forever seeking isolated stags or small herds of adolescent males, never going out of his way to hunt pregnant or nursing sows, doing his best to embrace both the hunt and balance. For despite there sometimes fierce hostility towards Sam and himself, Eric still recognized them as different from monsters to be cleansed from a dungeon. Rather, he saw them as a herd to harvest sweet boons of potency and fresh meat from… yet never to the extent the supernaturally fast growers couldn’t replace their own numbers.
It chilled Eric to think that the fearsome spirit beast in the distance, a creature he sensed was the lynchpin of this whole wondrous pocket realm, could sense so much with a glance, or that it’s nod, showing approval and challenge both, could be so sentient.
Cleanse yourself.
Be worthy.
Then come.
It was all Eric could do not to collapse into a kowtow, his very soul shuddering under the weight of that oppressive gaze. Never before had he felt such peril when facing any opponent, though he didn’t hesitate to nod his acceptance of the challenge offered.
One day.
When he was ready.
And perhaps it was madness, him accepting the challenge offered by a snorting boar who gazed at him for long moments before slowly turning his back on the young cultivator and slipping back into the depths of endless peach groves. Yet at that moment, on his hands and knees on the loamy forest floor, Eric’s heart was pounding with awe and terror and a sudden fierce hunger to better himself at all costs.
At last he understood the true secret of this place, the challenge that was, for the moment, so far above his imperfect form that it was laughable.
But as soon as he cleansed his meridians, wholly and completely... as soon as he knew for absolute certain that he had redeemed himself and his injury truly was no more, would he take the next step.
Claiming those mystic fruit for his own, embracing whatever benefit or peril they offered…
Then embracing the grandest hunt of this entire realm.
If all went as he hoped it would, prayed it would, when he finally stepped free of this realm, he’d be ready to face any challenge.
Including striking his enemies from directions unseen, unexpected, and bringing their rapine conquest of his world to a grinding halt… one territory at a time.
He clenched his fists, heart racing with a terror he refused to call anything but exhilaration for the peril he would soon face that would set the course for all he might accomplish in the years, perhaps centuries, to come.
The time of gentle contemplation and utterly safe cultivation was over.
He would get stronger at all costs, learn from his mistakes, and push forward like never before.
Chapter 172 - Training For The Big Fight
Comments
JC
From one folly to the next? Up to the next 20 lost years? He jumps very fast from one extreme to the other. After a chapter like this please make a time skip for e.g. 4 weeks later where we just take a look at the results and the consequences.
