Kobold Kill Team

  Somehow, Artyom’s world was turned upside down in an instant. The diligent Kobold workers who paid him no mind as he sneaked through the dungeon were now lined up above him, taking incredibly accurate shots with their crossbows. Artyom was able to avoid all of the bolts from their first volley, but as they reloaded, a pair of Kobolds on the ground with a strong, thin metal thread held between them ran on either side of Artyom. Thanks to his still-active Mote in the Wind spell, his lack of weight allowed the duo to easily sabotage his balance, sending him toppling backwards to the ground.

  Cursing himself for letting the previous ease at navigating the dungeon make him complacent, Artyom quickly manoeuvred into a roll, making use of his lowered weight to increase his acrobatic capabilities, before cancelling the spell and replacing it with one that better suited the situation.

  “D-U Dermal Armor,” Artyom said to himself as he channeled the magical energy in his body into his skin. Offering a better level of protection than Tungsten Body with similar long-term sustainability, it would be the best choice against this many enemies of unknown capability. Artyom had been made a fool of enough, he wasn’t going to take any more risks.

  As Artyom regained his bearings, the Kobolds up above had finished reloading and were ready to launch a second volley. Their bolts flew with greater accuracy, several of them striking Artyom’s limbs and shoulders, but bouncing off as if they’d hit something hard. In this case, it might as well have been depleted uranium, the material Artyom knew was used as tank armor back on Earth.

  “So you can make yourself as hard as rock, eh? You should’ve thought about that before taking on a bunch of miners, ya dumbass,” said the Kobold’s foreman. His 7-foot tall structure intimidated the other Kobolds as he clapped, summoning several miners holding pickaxes from the miniscule service tunnels scattered about. “We’ve got an intruder. Take care of ‘em.”

  The kobolds rushed at Artyom, pickaxes raised, ready to rend his flesh with their metal points. Artyom tested the waters by deflecting the first incoming swing with his hand, and feeling the sharpness of the pickaxe after he’d already knocked it away. Thankfully, the tool was entirely mundane, made of a decent quality yet unenchanted steel that was unable to damage his skin.

  “That’s some hard rock, ya got there. Let’s see it hold up to [Team Skill: Rending Points]!”

  The foreman’s words caused the tips of the pickaxes to shine with a blue gleam. A repeat of Artyom’s previous experiment resulted in a visible scratch when he tried to slide his finger across one. He figured he could take several hits from the pickaxes, but the blue glow now coming from the crossbow team was worrying. Who ever said that the Skill was limited to melee?

  “Speed of the Olympian,” thought Artyom as he activated the spell. Conveniently, his armor skills affected his skin while his speed spells worked on his muscles, allowing for minimal conflict between them. The sudden burst allowed him to quickly dodge out of the way of the incoming pickaxe swings and counter with a combination of basic kicks and punches, sending the miners to the ground.

  “Not bad kid, but I know magic when I see it. How much longer do you think you can go before you’re all out of juice?” taunted the foreman, clapping again to summon another swarm of Kobold miners.

  Artyom realized that this would keep going on until one of them was out of resources, and right now, he was the only one actually exhausting himself. The foreman knew magic, and he was able to close off the only exit Artyom could fit through with just a stomp of his foot. The big boss was definitely a spellcaster himself, armed with both magic and minions.

  “I guess I’m not getting out of here until you let me,” said Artyom out loud. “So let me go ahead and change your mind.”

  Artyom juked around the oncoming miners and flying crossbow bolts, jumping when only a few feet away from the foreman towards his midsection. It usually took one look at Artyom, what with his heritage and choice of spells, to come to the conclusion that he was some sort of martial artist. With his use of kicks and punches earlier, even he couldn’t blame anyone for it. However, Artyom’s particular combat style was something a little different. All it usually took was a single piledriver to convince his opponents of that.

  As Artyom flew towards the foreman’s midsection, the 7-foot tall monster took a defensive stance, with his eyes trained on Artyom’s right foot, expecting a flying kick. It wasn’t hard to imagine his surprise when a moment later, Artyom quickly lifted his knee as he made contact with the creature’s belly.

  “Knee of Justice!” Artyom shouted, more to intimidate his opponent than to show off.

  The foreman had a look of pain mixed with shock, but quickly recovered and tried to slam Artyom with a wild haymaker. He quickly dodged out of the way by jumping back, and countered with a magical curse.

  “Sensitive Nerves,” said Artyom in his mind, channeling his magic into the foreman’s nervous system, making everything he would now feel twice as strong.

  The foreman, not feeling any different, charged at Artyom, throwing his right fist in a straight punch. Another jump back and Artyom was out of range, the foreman’s overextended fist right in front of him. He grabbed it and twisted, forcing the foreman to his knees with a scream of pain at risk of otherwise having his arm dislocated. A forceful shove and he was now on the ground, facing the ceiling. Not missing a beat, Artyom used his magically enhanced acrobatics to jump into the air in a somersault, and fall onto the foreman with his elbow extended, delivering the People’s Elbow right onto the center of his ribcage.

  The foreman would’ve screamed in pain if the attack didn’t knock the wind out of him. He slowly got up while catching his breath, delivering a wicked glare at Artyom the whole time.

  “That was all for show, buddy. If you stick around, there’ll be a lot more pain coming your way! Looks like you used up all of your magic just to close the door!” shouted Artyom, calling on a professional wrestler persona in order to intimidate the foreman.

  Artyom had left the invitation in place of the key, and the Kobold construction crew would probably get rid of it when they got back to work. The only solution was to chase them out of the dungeon, or find another way to get the invitation into the hands of the hero within a week. With no other leads for the latter option available, Artyom concluded that securing the dungeon was his best bet.

  “Oh, you got one thing wrong kid,” began the foreman, spitting onto the ground beside him. “I just like using my fists so I can feel weaklings like you squirm. Listening to a lost human scream in pain and beg for their lives is honestly the best part of the job, but you’re putting a real damper on it, you know.”

  The foreman took a horse stance, both of his legs in front of him with knees bent, and his arms at either side. From what Artyom knew of martial arts, he could tell that the foreman’s posture was terrible and any sifu or sensei could point out dozens of basic mistakes. He would know, having had his own teacher do the same to him when he was a kid. He’d only started martial arts after watching a professional wrestling match at his friend’s house back on Earth and falling in love with the concept, but quit soon after realizing that it was all about discipline instead of beating the crap out of others.

  Despite the foreman’s bastardization of martial arts, Artyom could feel the magical energy in the air being drawn to the 7 foot tall behemoth of a lizard man.

  “And what the hell do you think you’re all doing?” called out the foreman to the surrounding Kobolds. “Kick his ass! Extra break time if you bring me his head alive!”

  The Kobolds looked at each other in confusion at the statement, but decided that only the mention of a prize in that sentence really mattered. Those on the ground lifted their pickaxes up and charged, while the ones looking down from the second storey nocked their crossbows and took careful aim.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” said Artyom. “Aura of Confusion!” The Kobolds charging him slowed down considerably, some of them colliding with each other or accidentally dropping their pickaxes. A few of the ones wielding crossbows even began to aim away from him. While Artyom could cast a fear aura that brought out the fight-or-flight response in its victims, a well-trained group such as this one would more often than not choose ‘fight’. Confusion was a good middle ground, and could turn the tide of a large-scale battle. They might not have been an army, but the squad of Kobolds were definitely populous enough for the aura to pose a serious detriment.

  “And as for you,” said Artyom, facing the foreman and snapping. “Null Magic!” The energies being drawn into the foreman stopped several inches away from him, with the energy about to enter his body being pulled away into the surrounding shell. Rather than trying to dispel the curse, which any spellcaster advanced enough could do, the foreman redoubled his concentration and started pulling in magic even harder. Despite the nausea he was experiencing from Artyom’s aura getting in the way, he kept going.

  Artyom didn’t give him the opportunity to overpower his spell. He entered a sprinter’s run and transitioned into a slide between the forman’s legs, coming up right behind him. He was too slow to react and Artyom took that opportunity to begin lifting him by the waist.

  “Herculean Might!” he shouted, switching out his speed-increasing spell for a strengthening one, as he lifted the foreman off his feet. Artyom didn’t stop there, and kept lifting him higher and higher, above his own head and then backwards, slamming the foreman’s head into the ground in a suplex.

  The impact sounded like a sledgehammer on concrete rather than a cracking noise. It startled the other Kobolds, who were still too busy fighting off the effects of the aura to do anything. Artyom wasn’t finished, however. While the foreman tried to reorient himself and get his feet on the ground, Artyom lifted him up again. Instead of another suplex, he put all of his might into a massive jump, bringing him and the foreman 10 feet into the air. He wrapped his legs around the foreman’s torso and arms as they both plummeted towards the ground.

  Artyom could swear he heard whistling as they descended, but what everyone else heard was the sound of thunder as the foreman’s skull made contact with the atrium’s floor. Artyom let go of him and took several steps back. The foreman lay on the ground, struggling to get up. Killing him wouldn’t be too difficult, but Artyom needed to scare everyone out of the dungeon, and killing their leader could result in them attacking in a rage, or whoever was in charge sending a replacement before the week was up.

  The foreman slowly rose to his feet, genuine fear in his eyes. He steeled himself long enough to consider his options, but in the end, he made the obvious decision.

  “Retreat! We’ve got no chance against this kid! You all know the plan! Tell all the others!” the foreman shouted all around him. The Kobolds scattered without hesitation, all heading for the nearest service tunnel, but a few of them digging at the rockslide blocking the main entrance. The workers were surprisingly quick and cleared the rubble away before Artyom could really appreciate the quick victory. The rest of the Kobolds and foreman ran through the largest pathway, probably heading for the dungeon’s main exit.

  Artyom let them run, and it took less than half a minute for them all to clear the room. After one more quick check of the pedestal to confirm his invitation was still in place, Artyom dispelled most of his magic and headed out himself. He still kept his armor and life detection spells active, fearing a possible ambush within the dungeon’s dark tunnels.

  After a slow and careful trek through the cave, which involved retracing his steps and avoiding the traps he had passed on his first time through, Artyom arrived at the entrance. The afternoon sun beat down on him, breathing new life into his slightly fatigued body. A wave of red from Detect Life, overloaded by the sheer abundance of forest flora and fauna, blew up in Artyom’s vision, forcing him to turn it off. No matter, all of the Kobolds had left the cave, and the site was secure in time for the Great Hero to find the invitation.

  Artyom began his walk back into town, happy with a job well done. He’d cleared out Crystal Kobold Crossing, the dungeon awaiting the Great Hero, and replaced the relic at the end with an invitation to the party, as well as a note instructing the hero to obtain the relic at the party. He opened up the map and looked up the directions for getting back into town, which were detailed independently from the instructions he followed to get here in the first place. He memorized the first couple of steps, already slightly familiar with the terrain from his trip that morning, before putting the map away and starting his trek.

  The first landmark he would pass was the out-of-place banana tree in the clearing. As he approached, he heard several light thunking sounds and a series of whistles approaching him. By the time he realized what was going on, over a dozen crossbow bolts hit him in the chest. It was an ambush!