03 – Massacre

Martin decided he had seen enough, and that it was time to switch from observing to acting. He dashed through the forest, out of the cover of the trees and towards the closest hut he could see. He approached one of the windows, activated Blueflame Ball and, still running, hurled the ball of fire inside the building. It went through the open window, and inside. The hut was made of crooked wooden beams, leather and fabric haphazardly put together so, when the fireball hit the ground and exploded, it went up in flames in an instant. Martin, however, was already running towards another house. The screams coming from his first target were more than enough to know the fireball had done the job, and soon after he got the official confirmation.

+5 exp
+4 exp

He grinned, feeling a rush go through his body like a drug.

His eyes locked onto one of the doors that overlooked the central fireplace of the village. It was a sad place, his brain thought, barely a few huts and tents around a big fire. Alerted by the noise, one of the inhabitants opened the small door to check what was going on outside, but could barely show his green deformed face before a ball of fire the size of a fist slammed into him and kept going, dragging his limp body inside the house and exploding.

+7 exp

Martin nodded to himself, feeling yet again the rush of adrenaline and the satisfaction of a job well done. More and more goblins were rushing out, screaming and yelling in the night, and one by one he picked them off with his fire.

Sometimes he would miss, but more than a few creatures were slain by means of a fireball to their back as they tried to escape the fiery hellscape that once was their village. Some other goblins were rushing towards one particular building. Martin tried to fire a spell at them, but just as he was aiming there, he felt something move at the edge of his vision.

He barely turned around in time to see one goblin rush at him, snarling and yelling, with spittle and saliva flying out of its malformed mouth and crooked teeth. Martin roared back, and outstretched his arm to catch the short creature by the neck as it ran. It slammed into his hand, halting its momentum and stopping its charge entirely. Its windpipe made an audible crushing sound, but the goblin was still alive. Martin lifted it up in the air.

Then, Martin made sure to stare into the thing’s eyes as he activated the skill: Energy Sap.

It writhed, screamed, kicked and tried to free himself from the deadly grip. Martin tanked the kicks and punches, feeling the skill use the goblin’s life energy to immediately heal all the damage. Then, slowly the creature’s libs went limp, then lost their color and turned a sick grey, losing their blood and moisture, shape and texture. Eventually it stopped struggling.

Martin couldn’t suppress the manic laughter, and shook the leftover ash away from his arm. He inhaled some and coughed, then laughed again and turned around, once again staring at the shack where everyone had rushed to with bloodshot eyes. He was about to fire again.

>Level up!

>Choose one:

>Improve random skill (1 point)
>Improve chosen skill (2 points)
>Generate new random skill (1 point)

He shook his head, trying to get the obnoxious words out of his face. He could see behind them, vaguely, that the door was now open and a stream of green people was rushing out and at him.

“Away! Go away goddammit!”

There was no use. The letters were still there, blaring at him and forcing him to divert his attention to them, and only them. The goblins were moving to surround him, armored and armed, and Martin felt for the first time a sense of fear build up deep inside.

He kept flailing and turning, eyes wandering wildly until a still sane part of his brain took over for but a moment.

“Generate! Improve! Anything!”

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>Generating new random skill…
>Skill: Ghost Dash 1 (short) generated!

He stared, letting the knowledge of the skill flow into him. “Now, this is good.” He said, calmly.

Everything was crystal clear, and Martin was once again the predator overlooking his prey with maniac eyes lusting for blood. He lunged, almost disappearing from where he was, reappearing behind the encircling enemies.

An explosion rocked the forest, and goblins were sent flying into the air as Martin disappeared again, shot another fireball, then again and again until there were holes in their numbers. He was untouchable, untouched.

He kept going, disappearing, killing, disappearing again. Until…

The dash failed, and he fell to the ground, clutching his head. The world was spinning. The trees were looming, and above his face appeared the ugly snout of one of the green bastards, and the shiny glint of a sword.

He barely rolled away in time, overtaken by an unknown instinct, but then he felt the sharp pain of something in his shoulder. He shot to his feet, but another pang of pain sent him back sprawling face first in the dirt, with a severed tendon in his right leg.

He grit his teeth, drawing blood. Savoring the nauseous taste of iron, he pushed himself up to his knee, and reached out with a hand like a claw. They retreated, but not fast enough.

He gripped whatever he had managed to hold onto tight, and sapped.

He felt the wounds close up a bit, but the pain was still blinding, and he didn’t stop to see what he had just turned to ash but once again dashed and appeared right in front of another goblin. He thrust both his hands and gripped its diminutive head, and watched with no pleasure as life was drained from those beady eyes. There was no pleasure indeed, only primal need. And pain. The more he sapped, the more some pain went away, while some other pain grew. It was a drilling, searing but dead coldness that spread through his brain, like ice inside his skull. He didn’t stop.

It wasn’t enough. Looking around, he saw that only one goblin was left, trembling sword held up against Martin. He readied a fireball. The goblin stared at it. It didn’t even realize that it was only looking at an afterimage and Martin was not there anymore. He was behind it. A few seconds later, it was ash.

Feeling the last of his wounds close up, Martin stared at the destruction around him. His eyes focused and unfocused, struggling to pierce a darkness of the night that was all encompassing, broken here and there by the trembling lights of the fires still consuming what was left of the few huts he obliterated.

“It really was a sad excuse for a village.” He looked around one last time, holding his head with his hands like a bandage that didn’t ease his pain. “I did you all a favor, trust me.”

With that, he went back into the forest and slumped against a tree. His eyelids felt like they were made of lead, and his vision blurred as the adrenaline from earlier left his system and his body was no longer in battle mode. He was dead tired, and his brain felt like it was going to explode.

>Level up!

>Choose one:

>Improve random skill (1 point)
>Improve chosen skill (2 points)
>Generate new random skill (1 point)

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Lit by the blaring words of the level up, like a siren in the night, his consciousness slipped away and he drifted off to sleep. In his dreams, he saw those letters staring right at him from the sky like a god demanding more sacrifice, and he tossed and turned until eventually, it was only darkness.

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