The Apocalypse Grinder (LitRPG Apocalypse, Timeloop)

Chapter 32: Magriz'al the Crazed



Ronan pulled up his status once again to check out what his stat investments had given him. He smiled at the nice even numbers but let slip a growl at the annoyance that was his dexterity. Even so, it would still improve his control even if it was annoying to look at.

[Status]

Name: Ronan Steele

Race: Human (G)

Heritage: @#^?-

Level: 20 (8)

Class: Fighter (Common)

Fortune: 6 Bronze Credits, 169 Copper Credits (349c)

[Stats (1.008)]

Health: 260/260

Stamina: 290/290

Mana: 83/120

Vitality: 26

Endurance: 29

Wisdom: 8 (+4)

Regeneration: 10

Resistance: 6 (+2)

Strength: 30

Agility: 22

Intelligence: 8

Dexterity: 9

Acuity: 8

Tenacity: 15

Luck: 2

Charisma: 4 (+1)

Available Points: 0

[Traits]

Personal: Inevitable (Epic)

[Skills]

Unified Language Adaptation (Universal)

Relentless Training (Common)

Magic Strike (Common)

Swift Strike (Common) (Class)

[Mastery]

Pugilist I 8/100

Mana 21/100

Staff 10/100

Shield 6/100

Anti-Magic 1/100

Pain 7/100

Stamina 4/100

Axe 13/100

[Cultivation]

Mind: None

Body: None

Energy: None

Soul: None

Satisfied with the improvements he willed it out of sight and turned his attention back to the other members of his party. Most of them were doing the same, having taken the brief respite to allocate stat points and go over their loot.

He wandered towards Dana who had a dazzling grin on her face. "You're a demon with that whip, but I have to wonder how you got hold of it in here," Ronan said, scratching his chin.

"You have to allow a woman some secrets, Ronan. There's no fun in spoiling them," she replied with a wink.

Ronan felt a sharp twinge in his chest. She was a devil in disguise. Best not to tease her anymore or he'd be the one in trouble.

"Get any sweet loot from the goblins? I got this spear, but the rest was pretty useless. Oh and the elite shards, but I don't think we can use them yet without killing ourselves," he added, holding up Thurg's Razorspear.

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Jackson whistled and walked over to inspect the weapon. "That's a nasty tip. I bet it could do some real damage," he commented.

"It definitely can. The little bastard who was using it first tore a few nasty gashes into me before I caved in his head," Ronan replied, remembering the ease with which the elite warrior had slashed him open.

"Well, now you get to return the favour. Karma, am I right?" Jackson replied with a devious smile.

"Karma, indeed kid."

Ronan turned to Keith. The guy wasn't shaking in his boots and had quite a few bloodstains on him. He had done well, clearly.

The simple fact he was still alive meant that he'd put his all into fighting. If he hadn't, the goblin hordes would've torn him apart.

Also, he had reached level 10. Well, he'd blown past it in fact but it meant he was able to pick a class. Unfortunately Ronan had missed his opportunity to dive in and 'convince' him to take healer, because Keith had already chosen a class on his own.

Ronan read his tag and sighed. It might have been the best choice on a personal level, but he knew that Keith being a rogue wouldn't benefit their group that much.

He suspected that the guy had only chosen that class so he could avoid getting hit as much. It was an admirable motivation—if a little cowardly—but it threw their party composition off a little. Oh well.

It wasn't as if Keith was the lynchpin holding them together. Him having a less than optimal class wouldn't change much. Rather, he was interested to find out what was waiting for them behind the next door.

Even after slaughtering their way through that seemingly endless horde, there had been no message informing them that they'd complete stage 4 of the tutorial. Considering the steep increase in difficulty that the system kept serving them, he imagined the next challenge would chew them up and spit them out.

Whatever they faced, there was no choice but to take it head on. There was no escape. No hiding from the system.

"Alright, let's keep going. I can't wait to pound some more goblin skulls together," Ronan declared with a clap. He was only half-faking his enthusiasm.

"As enjoyable as killing the little green fellas is, I have to say that the novelty wears thin after a while," Dana retorted, following after him.

They reached the door on the other side of the room. It felt strange to wrap his hand around the handle. They'd fought through waves of goblins to earn this, but their reward was another chance at death.

"Here goes," Ronan muttered under his breath, pushing the door open. It didn't budge. Weird. He pulled it towards him and it swung a lot faster than he'd expected.

Ronan stepped back, raising his fists in case a screeching goblin rushed through the opening. Nothing happened. Worse, there was nothing behind the door.

And by nothing he didn't just mean an empty room. No, the brick wall continued as if there wasn't a damn doorway at all. A door that led into the stone.

"Is it some kind of secret entrance? Maybe there's a particular brick you have to push like one of those bookshelf doors," Jackson added helpfully.

Ronan figured it was as good a guess as any, so he started shoving the stone bricks one by one to see if any of them gave. About two seconds after he'd started, he heard a rumbling from beneath the ground.

Taking it as a sign that maybe he was onto something, he continued to press the bricks, hoping one might give way under his forceful pushing. Unfortunately nothing happened, but the rumbling grew louder.

The ground began to tremble and puffs of dust splashed out from the mortar between the bricks. Ronan looked around, but the room was still empty apart from the five of them.

"What the hell is happening?" Keith exclaimed, shrinking towards a corner of the room.

"Stop being a pussy, Keith. Get over here," Ronan said, shaking his head. He was confused as well, but sticking together was their best bet, whatever was coming.

Jackson edged towards them, while Terry stayed where he was—near the back of the group. Ronan turned back to the door and kept pressing bricks, though he'd sort of given up hope that there was a secret door.

At that moment there was a momentous crash. Ronan felt the tremors. Rubble flew past him and smashed into the walls, showering his back in dust.

He staggered forwards as a heavy rock slammed against his spine. It wasn't enough to hurt him, but it had thrown him off balance. What the fuck? he cursed internally.

Ronan turned around. The crash had come from behind. Halfway through pivoting he heard a scream.

"No! Jack—"

Terry began to shout. Ronan saw a red mist in the air. Something wet slapped him across the face.

Wiping away the… blood, he looked forwards. Terry was standing in front of him, gripped by two giant green hands tipped in blackened nails.

Wait, just now that was Terry. Why did he stop shouting halfway through? The two hands snapped apart, tearing the giant man in half with them.

As his intestines were ripped in two, two yellow moons streaked with red cracks appeared behind his brutalised corpse. Eyes. Set into hollowed out crevices rimmed with pustules and warts, separated by a bulging, twisted nose.

There was a sickening squelch as the gigantic monster tossed the two halves of Terry at the walls. Ronan could only watch as the man's torso slid down the bricks and fell to the ground.

He turned back to the monster. "What the fuck is that!? We- We're dead," Keith gibbered, crawling against Ronan's legs.

Ronan glanced down. He couldn't find it in his heart to blame the guy for being terrified. He looked back at the monster. It was a goblin, but ten times the size of the ones they'd just fought.

And those were elites…

The ground shook as the monster took a step forward, a fiendish grin splitting its cracked, blackened lips. "Yehehehee," it cackled, gnashing its rotting, chipped teeth.

Ronan winced as the acrid stench of its breath hit him like a sledgehammer. Rotting flesh mixed with week-old garbage burnt into his nostrils.

His gaze flicked to the tag above its head. Two lines. That was new.

[Magriz'al the Crazed — BOSS]

[Hobgoblin Champion Lv.40]

A shiver ran down his arm and he realised he'd been clenching his fist so tight that he'd cut off the circulation to it. Taking a breath, he loosened it. He was trembling.

"You know… This is not fucking fair," Dana muttered beside him, her whip falling loosely to the ground.

"None of this is," Ronan spat, cursing the system for eternity in his head. "But, if we're going to die anyway, let's at least die fighting. Fuck goblins," he roared, drawing Thurg's Razorspear and rushing forward to meet the mega-sized monster in battle.

"Fuck goblins," Dana agreed, cracking her whip and racing after him.


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