Chapter Fifty-One


    Eric Delrosa had no trouble getting the badge he needed to move to the next section of Midgard. He just took the one Elgin had. After leaving the same way he had come, he showed his badge to the guards at the gate, and stepped onto the path that winded through the forest beyond.


    He traveled through most of the night, and killed many monsters. The spears power was incredible. With it he was able to unleash its spirit to combat another''s.


    However, it wasn''t long before he was able to select a skill upgrade, and it was a game changer.


    [Divine Voice-Mythic]: You speak and others listen. Any who hear your words must obey them. Now, your voice affects even skills and Words of Power]


    Eric had no idea what Words of Power were, but he had a nagging feeling he had just earned a crucial ability for his continued survival.


    He was headed to Fenraheim. A forest said to contain the armor of Loki at its heart. The armor would offer him defensive power and a powerful summomable companion.


    If the information he had gotten was correct, at any rate.


    He felt the ambush before he saw it. Call it instinct, or years spent around criminals, but he knew when danger was on the air. It allowed him to pick out the moving figures in the trees. He swept his gaze upward, picking out the archers on the branches.


    Smiling to himself, he whirled Gugnir, and with a fluid, yet unpracticed motion, he flung it at the nearest archer on the tree branch. As it turned out, practice wasn’t needed. The mythical spear flew as true as if thrown by a master.


    It took the surprised archer in the throat in a spray of sanguine blood.


    The light of surprise faded from the archers eyes as his lifeless body crashed to the forest ground below.


    With a splitting hiss, the spear flew back to Eric’s hands, and before the enemies around him could unleash skills or weapons upon him, he spoke, flooding his voice with mana.


    “All of you come out and freeze.”


    Four people emerged from the forest. They were clothed in mottled greens and brown. Cheap swords were at their hips, and bows were slung over shoulders. Two of them were human women, one blonde, and one brunette.


    Their brown eyes glared at him, along with the gruff looking men with wild beards and broad shoulders.


    It didn’t take much for Eric to put together that these were bandits. There wasn’t any other reason to attack him on the road. He didn’t take it personally, it was half-shod and a poorly put together ambush, but it would have likely worked on anyone else. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    One of the women tried to unleash spiritual pressure, but Eric called upon gungnir’s spirit, and easily countered the spiritual attack. He waggled his finger at the man,


    “That’s not nice.”


    He transitioned his finger wagging into rubbing his hands together.


    “You know, there are better ways to earn than ambushes. But who am I to judge? Say, you there, why don’t you stab your companion to the right.”


    The man drew his sword without hesitation and plunged it into the other man’s chest. A burst of viscera poured out of the wound, coating the ground in crimson. He cried out in pain, falling to his knees as the other man lifted a boot and bracing it against the dying man’s chest, he pushed and slid the sword out of his body.


    The man fell to the ground, his breath ceasing, his body going still as cold stone.


    A zing darted down Eric’s spine, and he dismissed the notification that lit up his vision.


    “Miss, would you mind stepping back some and shooting your male companion here in the head, if you please.”


    With a horrified look, the woman moved away, unslung her bow, knocked an arrow and aimed it at the man’s eye.


    Tears built at the corner of her eyes, and the man looked grim as she unleashed her arrow. The projectile pierced his eye in a sickening squelch as red burst from his face like a crushed rotten fruit.


    Eric clapped his hands as the man instantly went still, the arrow coming cleanly out the back of his skull. His body crashed to the ground in a lifeless lump.


    Rubbing his hands, Eric regarded the women.


    “Now then, how should we deal with you? Hmm. Ah well, I’ll make it quick I suppose. You, slit her throat,” he pointed at the woman who had killed the man.


    Openly sobbing,t he woman took out her sword after putting her bow away and walked around the other woman, who was also crying. Eric was the only happy person there, grinning widely as the woman bandit slid the edge of the blade along the other woman’s throat, opening up the skin of her throat like a ripe grapefruit.


    She emitted a gurgle, and blood sprayed as if from a fountain.


    She dropped like a stone, clutching her throat. Eric watched the light leave her eyes as if it was a movie he couldn’t tear away from.


    He let out a sigh of relief when she finally died.


    “I’m sure you think I am a monster. You’re absolutely correct, but in this case, I would lay the blame at your feet. After all, you attacked me first. I could let you live, spread what happened here today. A reputation does me good, after all.”


    Eric rubbed his hands, savoring the pule of hope that lit up in her eyes.


    “I could. But I won’t. Slit your own throat, slowly.”


    The hope died, and inwardly, Eric crowed in delight. She lifted her sword ever so slowly, and being exact as possible, she opened her own throat.


    Like all the rest of her friends, she fell to the ground like a sack of bad meat.


    Eric tsked at himself,


    “I forgot to see if I could control their skills. Ah well, it is what it is.”


    Eric whistled as he continued on his way.


    It was a day of travel before he left the forest, finding himself on the open path, surrounded by fields and mountains afar. It was a few more days after that before he entered the forest he was looking for.


    It was darker than the last forest, a thick mist hanging over it, and the air would have caused goosebumps to break out over his skin if it wasn’t for the fact that he was D-Grade. He heard the howls of wolves in the distance.


    Eric was certain he would find monsters here. He wanted to, needed to, in fact. He knew his enemy would not stay idle. He would be progressing. He might even be C-Grade by now.


    Eric could not afford to fall too far behind. He wasn’t too familiar with gamer vernacular, but he believed he was about to engage in an old time practice of “grinding” as some called it. He would go after monster after monster, and slay them until he reached C-Grade.


    As he did so, he would make his way to the heart of the forest.


    Where he would find the armor of Loki.