Hungry Necromancer - Chapter 238

Jungle has done well as a guide, very well. He’s brought us to the paths of Trolls, giant spiders, more Dire Wolves and the familiar face of a Werebear.

But that isn’t even the most exciting part of any of this, the exciting part is when we get ambushed, like now.

When the Shambling Mounds would spring out, or some roots take me by the ankle and dangle me over a gaping mouth of yet another hungry plant. Those are the most exciting times, off my feet with seconds to react, seconds to not die instantly to a piece of salad.

“Harh!” I grunt, swiping at their heads. “Anselm! Would you hurry it up already?” I scream out to my companion, blood pooling in my mouth and a giant spike lodged in my side.

I’d never expected there to be traps. Monsters yes, but traps?

The wooden spike launched at me the moment I stepped on the trigger, impaling my side and leaving me vulnerable to the horde of green ugly short men that burst out of the bushes cackling.

Goblins.

When I left the lot of them back in the cave, I rarely gave their existence a thought except when the subject of monsters came up. But even as I thread through the forest hunting monsters for experience, it never dawned on me that Goblins could be one of those very monsters I’m hunting for.

Much of the ugly things lie at my feet. Incapacitated by their trap I wasn’t in the best thinking state to begin moulding mana. Fortunately for me, Lotar is still with me.

A quick use of [Circle of Death] sent a clear message as each and everyone of them jumping to finish me off fell into the heap of corpses before me now.

Anselm zooms overhead, dashing into the bushes and rattling them all free of whatever goblins are left hidden. Pesky things. I’ve never had to battle them, my little skirmish with those in the cave doesn’t count much, especially when these ones are much larger, tougher and smarter.

I need them all out where I can see them, facing off with a monstrous creature smart enough to know to lay traps is bound to be troublesome.

Exciting, but fucking troublesome.

Spitting out a wad of blood I pull on my mana, Goblins flailing at Anselm in the air but out in the clear, waiting to get snatched up. “Death Grip.”

A tendril shoots out of my bloodied hand, latching itself on the goblin as it struggles, “Soul Drain.”

I let myself be invigorated by the curative perks of absorbing a soul, stepping out of the spike as my insides heal up.

“Ahh…” I sigh, “Fucking bastards, Bone Spikes.” With an abundance of bones right beneath my feet I’m not lacking in weapons.

My spikes rip themself out of the bodies of the dead below me, spurting out even more blood, useful blood. Callously I let the blades through and have Shaco control them while I activate a second spell.

Before I can call out the words a thorny vine whips out of the foliage, snaring Anselm by the ankles and punishing him with the ground.

My mouth falls open at this and in the bushes, through the natural covers comes a hunched wrinkled goblin with a staff in hand, a glowing staff.

Magic.

“Blood Spikes!” I let out the spell in pressing urgency, the entirety of it directed at the goblin wielding magic, a dangerous foe should I let it be.

Crimson shards fly out at it, skewering its allies as they stand in the way.

‘They’re sacrificing themselves!’

But it’s a pointless effort, they’re far too scattered across the opening to take the hit on behalf of their obvious leader. My shards skewer all that stand in their way and as they’re about to pierce the meat of the major threat, it proves why its a major threat.

With a single screech from its throat a thunderous wave blasts across the opening in an arc, slamming into Anselm on the ground, its goblin allies and tossing my spikes aside.

“Fucking…”

It raises its staff and the goblins begin pulling themselves together, leaving Anselm behind and racing towards it. The magic wielding goblin is unlike the others in other ways, it’s thinner, frail even but it has the most articles of clothing.

At least a semblance of cloth and bones chained round its waist, the bones rattling with ever move. It sneers at me and levels its staff at me.

My feet dig into the ground, ready to summon a bone or blood shield should an attack come, but it doesn’t. Rather, the goblins make a path for something giant to pass.

With each of its footfalls the ground trembles beneath me, it stands tall, taller than any present and with wider muscles. It’s much larger than even Panda. Looking up at it like a dog staring up at its master, it snarls at me, its mouth full of jagged teeth and protruding tusks.

And then the wrinkly goblin screams something, and I know I’ve got to move.

With a grunt it burst out at me, charging to kill and break every bone within my body. But I’ve seen this story before, quick to mould my mana I have my [Death Grip] tendrils launch me in the air, but even at this height I find its not too dumb to know what next.

It leaps.

My head flushes with blood, falling back to the goblin filled ground as I let my tendrils loose. But I don’t have the time for them. Shaco leaps out of my shirt and plunges into the pile of goblin corpses a second before I land.

In a green flash their dead become my allies under Shaco’s command, but I have other pressing matters, giant goblin matters.

Summoning all the blood and bone from earlier I have them revolve around me as the giant goblin picks itself out of the little crater it formed from its leap. The bones calcify to long, strong shields that will automatically take any hit for me and the blood circles around me in hardened bolts, ready to be deployed into the beast I find in front of me.

“Let’s fucking do this!”