Warbreaker's Risk: A LitRPG Apocalypse Adventure (The Connected System Book 2), page 6
He stopped the swing, pulling the weapon up to block any counterattacks.
There weren’t any. The two hobs had stopped moving. Taking a step back, Loch quickly finished the hob he had kicked. The poor thing hadn’t even had time to pick itself up.
He could hear the sounds of fighting coming from down the frozen food aisle behind him. He fought the urge to go and help, instead turning to survey the rest of the store. He couldn’t see anything else moving, but he knew they were out there. Hobs, at least one, had to be down near the deli watching him as he was looking for it. The thing wouldn’t move, not yet. It wanted to, though.
After watching the display Loch had just put on, the hob scout would be terrified. It wanted to run, to tell the rest of its clan what had happened. Loch planned on letting it. The deli was too far to throw Onyx; the hob didn’t need to know that, though. He wanted it to report back to the rest.
He wanted it to scare the hell out of them. Maybe they’d just turn and run, leave the store without any more fighting. Wishful thinking. He dismissed the Notifications flashing across his vision, not bothering to read them.
The multi-colored sparks of Spirit entered his body. He could feel the individual sparks that belonged to each hob. Each one bumped up his Spirit just a little bit. At this rate, it was going to be a very long time until he Leveled again.
He did feel an extra bump in his Spirit level.
The Connection giving him a bonus for how quickly and savagely he had killed the hobs?
Even low-level mobs could be dangerous to someone at his Level if there were enough of them. He’d just killed eight hobs in a matter of seconds. That had to earn him something from the stingy Connection.
Chapter Seven
“Six of them,” Davis said, staring at the end of his makeshift spear.
The sharpened end was jagged and wicked-looking but not as sharp. Part of it had been torn off. Loch thought it might be stronger. Or was it the blood and guts stuck in the wood that the young man was looking at? Davis had come back up the aisle to report to Loch, the others staying down to make sure no more hobs tried to flank them.
“Orders?”
Loch grimaced. He didn’t like that. He knew he was the one in charge, and it had been by his choice. He just didn’t like the idea of giving orders. This wasn’t the Army. Loch wasn’t the commanding officer. Or was he? He sighed. He was. What did he want to do?
They had to split up. With the length of the aisles and the continuous ones along the front and back, there would be too many chances for the hobs to use those numbers and surround them. They could be attacked from three sides.
The only way to prevent that was to advance aisle by aisle, front and back. Make sure there were no hobs alive behind them. He knew the old gaming trope. Never split the party. But what choice did he have? The problem was how to split the group and who would go where?
If he was right with the hobs in the produce section, that would be where the most numbers were. At the rear, closer to the meat counters, was the meat cooler that split the area. The health and beauty aisles were shorter, stopping at that long meat counter that went parallel. It created two parallel aisles, one by the health and beauty, then another between the meat coolers. There were open-topped coolers in that area—lots of places for the smaller hobs to hide.
If whoever took the rear went to the meat cooler side, that left plenty of area on the end of the aisles for the hobs to circle around them all. If they went to the aisle side, it was the same issue with the meat coolers.
Loch looked down the long aisle, trying to figure out what the best course of action was going to be. Davis knew to wait, not saying anything. Loch was impressed by the kid’s patience. Most sixteen-year-olds would try to impress Loch with their supposed knowledge. They’d played video games, they’d have some advice, as bad as it would be. Davis just waited, knowing he really had nothing to contribute.
Not that Loch was that experienced compared to Davis. What if he didn’t split the party? Make the hobs split their numbers.
“Tell the others to come on back,” Loch said.
Davis nodded.
Harper took the lead, with Davis a few steps behind.
Loch took the rear.
As they passed aisles, he could see the shadows at the far end. The hobs ran past the ends. Loch couldn’t tell if they were immediately turning up or heading all the way to the end. If they saw the party, they would swing up. Loch hoped they didn’t.
The group was working hard to make sure their progress was not noted. They’d bunch up at the ends, make sure there were no shadows of hobs, and run across the aisle.
Making a lot of noise doing it.
“Look out!” Harper shouted, drawing Loch’s attention.
A hob jumped from the shadows, slamming into Davis. The two fell down in a tangle of limbs. Loch spun back around, making sure it was still clear behind them; as he did, he saw something out of the corner of his eyes. Something moving, up high. The top of the aisle, moving along the shelves. They ran for the end, clubs held high, ready to jump and smash.
“Above!” Loch yelled, throwing Onyx.
The axe slammed into the rear hob, lightning crackling around the impact, bolts spreading over the hob’s body. The monster jerked, the body spasming, as it was knocked off the rack. Loch heard it slam into the shelves across the other aisle.
More food destroyed. Loch didn’t glance up at the sign, not wanting to know what aisle it was. The first hob up top jumped, a globe of silver energy slamming into its body. There wasn’t enough force from Piper’s wand to send it flying backward, but enough to knock it off course.
It landed to the side, sliding across the vinyl tiles.
A sharp pain slammed into Loch’s side. The club fractured a rib, at least, maybe even broke it. Loch twisted away from the pain, swinging Onyx wide to knock the hob back.
He set his feet, facing the three hobs. The one that had hit him was falling back, stepping out of the way of the wildly swinging axe. Two more were right behind, one of them helping keep the first from falling down.
Activating Offensive Stance, Loch brought Onyx around in front, holding the large axe across his body. He felt the energy of the Ability spread through his body, strengthening his arms and making him faster. The two hobs rushed forward.
Onyx swung.
A head fell, followed by an arm.
The hob yelled out in pain, clutching at the stump where the arm had been. Onyx’s lightning had activated, burning the stump, stopping the blood from flowing. Smoke curled up from the burning flesh.
Loch held his side, grimacing in pain. Twisting his body caused the fractured rib to flare up.
They needed a healer.
The rib would repair itself once he was out of combat and given enough time, but a healer could have it fixed up now.
Loch stepped forward, Activating Bulwark. The green shield appeared around his arm just in time to block a swing. He grunted, twisting his arm to slide the club off to the side. Onyx swung in, the hammerhead striking the hob in the side. Bones cracked, the creature yelling in pain. Loch smiled, feeling a little cruel. The hob’s swing has fractured one of his ribs. His swing had fractured and broken all of the hob’s ribs. The monster crumbled to the ground, howling in pain. The sounds echoed through the dark store.
Rotating the weapon, Loch slammed the axe head into the shoulder of the third hob. It fell in a heap, yelping as the weapon was pulled out. With a couple of quick swings, Loch finished off the three hobs.
He quickly dismissed the Notifications.
“Everyone good?”
“Yeah,” Piper answered.
“Let’s get moving,” Loch ordered.“Cerie, fly up higher and watch the top of the shelves.”
“Yes, Lord Lochlan.”
He saw the green glow of the fairy rising higher. He kept his eye on the rear, expecting more hobs to attack.
“There’s three of them further up,” she reported.
Loch could hear the frustrated growling of the hobs. Their ambush had been spoiled.
“Ah!” Cerie yelled.
Loch quickly looked up, seeing the fairy flying up and down, moving to the side. He could hear a whistling as something shot through the air around her.
“They have slings,” she growled.
“Which aisle?” Davis asked.
Loch lost track of the answer, having more immediate concerns.
Four more hobs rushed out from the nearest aisle—two with clubs and two with swords.
He rushed forward to meet them, using Bulwark to slam into one of the hobs. He pushed it out to the side, sliding his foot against the off-balance hob. The small monster fell. His momentum carried him into another, a short swing from Onyx slicing across the monster's chest, knocking it to the ground. Loch turned, punching a third hob, taking a sword swing against the translucent energy shield.
A kick caught the sword-swinging hob, pushing the monster back.
Loch waded into the circle of hobs, swinging Onyx, catching attacks on his shield, then kicking out and catching four hobs in their chests. The four monsters fell quickly. Loch had thought the size difference might be a problem, all his swings and blocks having to be lower, but the hobs were just much weaker compared to him.
If they had been stronger, the size discrepancy might be an issue.
A scraping sound came from down the aisle. Loch turned, throwing Onyx. The weapon shot down, slamming into the chest of a hob, crackling bolts of lightning erupting and spreading over the monster. It fell to the ground. The other two hooted, running as fast as they could.
Loch ran down the aisle, meeting them as Onyx reappeared in his hand.
So much for all his planning, Loch grumbled, Bulwark intercepting a swinging sword. The rusty blade slid across the green energy. Loch raised his hand, pushing the sword up and away. Onyx met sword, the hob’s rusty blade snapping in half. The swing of Onyx was stopped, Loch managing to push it forward, the axe head cutting into the hob’s shoulder. Not enough to really stop it, the monster falling back and away from the axe.
He brought the axe around, the hammerhead slamming into the other hob’s shoulder, sliding along until it impacted with the monster’s head. Bone snapped, neck cracking, jaw breaking. The monster fell back, tangled up with the other. Two quick swings with Onyx ended their lives.
Loch turned to run back to the coolers, hearing his group fighting. He took a step, stopped, something telling him to look up.
The jumping hob landed on the raised Bulwark. For such a short creature, it was bulky, the weight pushing down on Loch. He grimaced in pain, struggling to keep the creature from falling on top of him, his fractured rib throbbing.
The hob kicked wildly, shifting its weight, club batting at Loch. He turned his head, avoiding the swing which connected with his shoulder. Cursing, Loch twisted to the side, letting his body slide down, the shield at an angle.
Sliding off, the hob hit the ground hard. Loch stomped down, breaking a knee.
The hob rolled on the ground, clutching at its ruined knee.
Loch finished it off, stumbling forward. His left arm felt numb, a tingling running up and down it. The shoulder throbbed. He thought his collarbone might be broken, like his rib. He flexed his arm, opening and closing his fist. He’d let Bulwark go, his Spirit getting low.
Alchemist, he thought. We need an alchemist to make potions.
Something else to go along with the Healer. He made another mental note on one of his growing number of lists. At the end of the aisle, glancing back to make sure no more Hobs were coming, he saw the others had moved further down. They were at the split, where the large meat cooler ran parallel to the aisles, making two paths, waiting for him. He quickly joined them.
“Everyone good?”
They replied with nods and grunts.
Cerie floated near the ceiling, rotating in a slow circle.
She pointed over to the meat cooler. “Incoming!”
Hobs jumped onto the top of the cooler, yelling war cries and bearing clubs, swords, and spears.
More hobs rushed around the far side.
Loch felt a sharp pain in his leg. He kicked out, hitting something solid. Twisting, keeping weight off the leg that screamed in agony, he saw a hob on the ground, shaking its head. Two more melted out of the shadows. With the low light, the gray tone of the hobs’ skin was hard to see, but Loch could see that these two were darker, almost black. Each held a wicked-looking dagger, the metal rough with jagged edges.
“Watch out!” he barked. “They have stealthers.”
Chapter Eight
An aspect of games that Loch had always found annoying was the progressive levels of the monsters. They started out weak, getting stronger the further into the zone or dungeon that he traveled. In a practical way, game design, it made sense. But he’d always lost the logic when he applied it to the real world.
No real fight would ever be that way. If an enemy had stronger members, they’d deploy those at the start of the fight, not throw weaker ones over and over.
The term cannon fodder did exist, and that’s what the weaker ones were, but not in just throwing them at stronger enemies.
But then, it had never really been in terms of levels. A human soldier was fairly equal. Grunts were more numerous compared to the well-trained spec ops, but that was why spec ops were specialized and ran special missions. They weren’t meant to replace the grunts when the enemy had mowed through them.
Now Loch could see the logic. The weaker weren’t thrown at them as sacrifices. They were tests. The hobs hoped the weaker, lower leveled members of their clan would weaken Loch and his group or just outright kill them. Allow the higher levels, and the elites, to sit back and not risk themselves or fight strong enemies.
Why risk an elite on a foe if didn’t have to? And it was a way to push the lower leveled members of the clan. If they survived, they would become stronger, reaching higher levels and elite status. It was how the Connected System wanted it—pushing the Connected to be better and become stronger by pitting them against challenges.
For his part, Loch hadn’t really been going all out against the hobs. He wasn’t using his full range of Abilities. There hadn’t been a need.
He used Evaluate, wanting to get a gauge for what the hob chieftain, or whatever the boss of the Event would be, was throwing at them.
DARKMOUND SHADE CREEPER
The Ability had Ranked up at some point, now Rank Two, and with it came a feeling of comparable strength. Before it had just been a name. He’d expected, hoped, that a Level would be given, and maybe it would be at the next or a higher Rank. But the feeling was good enough.
The other hobs had felt weaker compared to Loch’s own strength. He got a similar feel from both of the Millmans. He wondered what he was sensing. Was it the amount of Spirit within their bodies? An Aura? Their Soul?
Something else? It didn’t really matter, just the results.
The Shade Creepers felt a little stronger than the other hobs. Not quite at his Level, but close. They were probably equal Level to Harper or Piper. The others had been on par with the Millmans, not quite Level Five yet.
“Be careful. They’re sending stronger ones at us,” he said, deciding that holding back wasn’t worth it anymore.
He would still conserve his Spirit Reserves. No need to blow through it all. Not yet. Even in the Challenge Dungeon he hadn’t used his full range of Abilities. Mostly that had been because he’d forgotten. Even in games, he’d only focused on a handful of Abilities, forgetting what else he had, usually at a detriment. He knew he had to do better.
Loch swung Onyx before him, still a few feet from the hob Shade Creepers. He Activated Thunderclap, the Ability he’d gotten from the chosen Patron.
A wave of force shot out from the swing. Little bolts of energy crackled around the edges of the wave. It struck the hobs, a physical blow knocking them back, one falling to the ground. They growled in pain.
Loch Activated Aura of Attack, the buff reaching out to his group. He instinctively knew that Harper and Piper would receive it. They were a Clan Family, which according to Cerie, the Connection recognized as a permanent party. He had wondered if the Millmans would be considered part of his group. There was no formal party system in the Connection. Cerie had assured him that they would be for the duration of the Event.
Learning more about Clans was high on multiple lists.
He stepped forward, crossing the short distance to the reeling Shade Creepers. A swing of Onyx cut the arm off one, the swing’s direction changing to bring the axe head down on the hob trying to get up. That one dead, he swung Onyx into the other Shade Creeper, the axe cutting deep into its chest.
Loch kicked out, pushing the dying hob off his weapon.
YOU HAVE SLAIN DARKOUND SHADE CREEPER
YOU HAVE SLAIN DARKMOUND SHADE CREEPER
The multi-colored sparks of energy entered his body, pushing his Spirit up a little.
They had been higher Level but still went down quickly. How much of an effect did Loch’s Achievements really have? All were just 1 percent to 3 percent increases, but that was starting to add up. His attacks were fast and powerful.
Overwhelming.
How much was Aura of Attack helping the others? He needed to stay within twenty feet of them so they could get the benefit. Loch didn’t like that aspect. It would tie him down and keep him from roaming as he felt he needed to.
“What was that buff?” Peter asked. “I feel incredible.”
That answered Loch’s question. No more wandering off.
“Cerie, are we clear?”
“Yes, Lord Lochlan.”
“I don’t see any with Shadow Sense,” Harper added.
“How is everyone on their Stats?”
“Getting low on Stamina and Spirit,” Peter said. “Health is good for now.”
