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Wacky Wizard

Wally, the shitty, cheating scoundrel that likes to play games the wrong way... that is Wacky Wally, an enigmatic player who doesn't give a damn about the rules! After cheating his way to victory in his not-so-favorite online game, he transmigrated to the said online game's world... It sucks to be Wally. Do you want to be Wally? Don't say yes yet, because you don't know Wally... No one among us truly does... *** WARNING! Irregular updates.

Alfir · Fantasie
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19 Chs

Goblin Hunting (3)

Seeing Kieffer's rage further motivated me of accomplishing this fucking quest. Yes, quest. Despite my claim of stepping down the denial stage, I am still pretty much seeing this world through the lenses of a game. You can't blame me, it is convenient!

I gave Kieffer a vitality potion. It closed the wound in his abdomen quite fast. Well, it is just a graze, so that's a given. The tetanus is also not a problem, vitality potions are quite miraculous. Only second to elixirs of life.

I know the dangers of using untested magic, especially modded skills. But I have deliberated enough.

"Die, ye weaklings." I used Death Stare, a skill under Wagic. It's a convenient spell that kills anything 75 levels below me. Every goblin that meets my eyesight was instantly killed by the magic. Under the game mechanics, the player must click on the target monster and then activate the skill. But now, with the slightest motion, I can now kill every weakling in our path.

Despite the overwhelming difference, stragglers of level 25 and above still dare resist me. The deeper we go, the stronger the stragglers become. Still, they are helpless in the face of my relentless arcane bolts.

To vent some of my stress, I went as further as getting to close-quarters combat using martial magic. I may be lacking in terms of stats in melee, but the immense level difference solves the problem without issue.

"Hu— man, die..." An incomprehensible yell, but still understandable through my intelligence attribute. With strong momentum, it came with the savage force of a hunkering hobgoblin about three meters tall.

It is a hobgoblin general with his entourage, a variant that has distinguished itself through battles.

I released relentless arcane bolts until all of his grunts died without mercy. Their flesh was gouged, punctured, and scattered.

That left me with half of my mana resource according to my estimates, something I am practicing for a long while, and will continue on doing so...

"Hu— man, strong. But I am stronger!" The hobgoblin general regenerated his flesh like a troll suggesting its unique bloodline.

"Your father must be a troll, I will be having the most fun in this." A frown made its way to my forehead. All trolls are born male. The way they repopulate themselves is through cloning or interracial copulation. The problem is— All goblins are also born male.

The existence of the unique hobgoblin suggests a high-tier mage among the goblin community. Something smart enough to experiment on bloodlines and give birth to something like this goblin general.

Using an arcane bolt to incapacitate the hobgoblin is easy, and beating the hell out of it is easier. It is just that my magic resource has limits.

My arcane bolt continued to hit the hobgoblin's tendons that connect its limbs, actively suppressing the thing on the ground.

I sat atop Its abdomen constantly delivering blows to its head. For a frail mage like me based on the level 100 standards, the damage I am inflicting is one-sided enough to boost my confidence.

I am OP.

***

I killed the hobgoblin general with an arcane bolt to its head. Looks like its regeneration is inferior to a troll since it can't even regenerate its head.

After killing the hobgoblin general, a goblin assassin sneaked from my rear successfully plunging his rusty dagger into my chest. Thanks to a pump of adrenaline, I am able to drink a vitality potion after sending the goblin assassin to oblivion with an arcane pillar.

The weak ass goblin woke me up from the dangers of this cave. To think that something in the lower 20s can inflict my death...

Kieffer and I made camp 50 meters backward from where I decimated the hobgoblin general.

My magic resource is about 25% below. Eating and resting regenerate it fast enough to continue our journey after 2 hours of casual idling.

Fighting the variant proved the reality of human logic. This at least supports the idea whatever I am experiencing is not a delusion.

But that is no longer a problem. I have long moved from that dilemma. The problem is my sense of 'strength' is too obscure. A hobgoblin general is in the level 70s. But with the troll-like regeneration, it must be 5 levels or higher.

For a level 100, suppressing them as I did is impossible. A level 75 monster won't die that fast from a single-minded array of arcane bolts and some punching. But my recent fight tells me otherwise.

First, levels don't function in this world. But there is some sort of level suppression from the difference of life levels described in the monsterpedia. They are mostly intimidation factors given that a level 1 can still kill a level 100 in this world with a knife— something that I painfully learned from a hobgoblin assassin.

Second, HP or hit points don't function in this world. It worked the same way how medical personnel sees health.

Lastly, MP or magic resource can be consciously gathered which I frequently relied on while punishing the hobgoblin general.

Though, it's more concerning that Kieffer isn't showing any concern for the violence I have displayed.

In fact, he even thanked me. Most often, when my friends saw my violent side, they tend to either leave me or fear me.

My swearing tendencies alone made my circle of friends smaller given my hooligan behavior despite my nerdy looks.

And now, an estranged youth is showing me heartfelt appreciation— which I don't give a damn.

"If you have time to thank me, you should be mourning for those you lost instead. Maybe, that will remind you the next time someone invites you to goblin caves— that you should reject them." Harsh words came from me, which struck the young Kieffer hostile. But the youth suppressed his inner turmoil.

"I know." Kieffer softly whispered, then we moved on.

The slaughter continued. This time, with more caution, afraid that the goblin assassin incident may repeat itself.

My anti-stealth skills are not weak, at least mediocre, but the goblin assassin still happened. I must treat my life with great importance.

I continued my slaughter as we go further into the darkness.

From here on. I will write the story at third perspective.

Alfircreators' thoughts