“You have become a Summoner Level 1: Capable of absorbing the souls of the dead, and can temporarily store them within their own mana-core. Able to place those souls into new, rank-G vessels, under level-five. All Passives and Spells will be lost and no stats may be carried over from their previous form.”
“You have learned Overpowering Aura Level 1: The caster sends their own mana into the enemy’s mind and deals Arcane-damage directly to their lifeforce. Only effective on targets that are more than ten levels lower than the caster. Must be in physical contact to activate. Damage is dependent on the Aura stat. Costs one mana per second.”
Michael had not only acquired the Profession he desired, but he also gained a relatively useful Arcane spell. He didn’t bother learning it before, because he literally couldn’t. It was an ability that was pointless at first, but later on, it could become extremely powerful.
After tossing the corpse away, he yelled “Yes! Come and feed me, you little green cockroaches! Hahahaha~!” Sarah sighed at him, then began slashing apart the incoming flying enemies that strangely seemed to all be aiming towards him.
Not only was the Nephilim much larger than any of the Feline Dwarves, he was also standing on the middle of the southern ramparts. However, more than anything else, was the fact that he was using ‘Taunt’ and simply relying on his ‘Guardian’s Constitution.’
Even when the huge Hellhounds managed to climb up the walls to the far left, they didn’t attack the Musketeers that were shooting at them. The seven large rottweilers, with crimson flames erupting from their fur, headed straight towards Michael.
Two of them were riddled with bullets, one was decapitated by Sarah, and the other three actually made it to him. Each was a level-ten, rank-F magical-beast, but they mainly focused on Agility and Strength, so they had relatively low HP.
When one bit down onto his left calf, it sent scorching hot flames out of its mouth and he screamed “Holy fucking bitch-tits! Ow-ow, ouch!” Another jumped around behind him, and latched onto his left forearm, in an attempt to seal his attacking ability.
The last one jumped towards his throat, but was punched in the face by his gauntlet-covered hand. Its snout was crushed, then its skull, and finally he managed to launch the rest of the incredibly light-weight body, towards Sarah, who bisected it: for the entertainment value.
Then he shoved his left index-finger through the forehead of the dog that was latched onto his right arm. After that, he kicked his leg upwards and caused the last Hellhound to lose its grip, before smacking it with the side of his sword, sending the pulverized remains into group of incoming Imps.
He only received a single point of damage from the entire ordeal, and that was from the magical attack. Michael yelled “My OP-ness is starting to get pretty fucking hardcore!” but then a giant javelin smacked into his breastplate and sent his body flying off the southern ramparts, over the courtyard, and smacking into the middle of the northern inner-wall.
A massive ‘-169’ appeared above his head the moment he was struck, followed by ‘-35’ as he impacted the stone, and ‘-13’ when he fell down seven meters: crashing into the concrete floor. He was ‘internally bleeding,’ ‘poisoned,’ ‘stunned,’ ‘crippled’ and ‘paralyzed.’ Both of his angelic wings were completely crushed and barely even attached to his body any longer.
However, several Healers that were stationed near the northern wall, began removing the debuffs and rapidly regenerating his dwindling HP. As he unsteadily stood upright, he turned to them and yelled “Thanks!” before he teleported onto the southern ramparts again.
Michael gazed out at the gigantic High-Orc, who was at least six meters tall and covered from head to toe in crimson scaled armor. There were two pitch-black, ram-like horns coming out of the sides of the monster’s scarlet-plate helmet. Even from a kilometer away, the attack still managed to deal over a hundred damage from pure kinetic energy.
Yet, seeing that the ‘tiny’ man was still alive after receiving his throw, Simon roared “Ryan! Bring me that one’s corpse, so I may add it to my collection!” as he pointed towards the Nephilim. After hearing that order, a two-meter tall, lanky man, covered in bright-pink leather armor, began using the giant wasp-like wings on his back to fly.
“Ryan the Executioner, Level-15 Green-Elf Incubus Reaper, Rank-E, Super-Elite,” was written above the creature’s head. His appearance was similar to a Human, with short elven-ears, a long serpentine tail, and dark-green skin.
Seeing that one of the strongest enemies was soaring towards them, many of the people who were on the southern ramparts actually received ‘feared’ and ‘terrified’ debuffs. However, Michael yelled “Stop being such pussies! Well, you are mini-nekomimi, but that’s beside the point! Focus on killing the small-fries and I’ll take care of this ugly motherfucker!”
That particular Green-Elf Incubus was actually fairly attractive, though it mostly used its six points of ‘Charisma’ to ‘Intimidate’ enemies. Fortunately, since Michael also had six points of ‘Charisma,’ he was able to remove the debuffs, using his ‘Enthrall’ spell: which reached level three at that moment.
Ryan was carrying a huge scythe in his hands, which appeared to have been made out of purple flesh. On the top was the head of a ‘beautiful’ Ogress, who had long platinum hair, and erupting from her mouth was a huge curved, crimson blade. The staff seemed to be a squirming worm-like creature, which was attached to the woman’s neck, and within its body was a vaguely visible spine.
The Nephilim shouted “Why the fucking cunt would anyone wanna use something like that?!” However, he could immediately tell that it was definitely Rare and possibly Epic, though the rest of the enemy’s equipment didn’t seem too impressive.
When it came to magical-beasts, becoming Elites or higher required first acquiring large amounts of extra stats from devouring mana-cores of their rank. Humanoids on the other hand, typically needed to keep training their various spells and passives, while staying at the same rank for decent amount of time.
Thus, they would normally have much lower stats than their magical-beast counterparts. Equipment was the big equalizer between the two, since both sides would obviously learn a massive amount of skills over the years.
Ryan scowled at the irritating dove-winged man, while asking “Why have you come to aid these pitiful creatures, Nephilim? Tis obvious that they all shall perish-” Before he even had a chance to finish speaking, Michael threw his Arcane Siegeblade at the Incubus.
The giant whirling sword was easily avoided by the Super-Elite, however, the tiny glowing ball did manage to hit its target. With a smile on his face, he shouted “Gotcha Bitch!” That flying man was already so incredibly light and airborne, so he had no way to defend against an Arcane Pull with twenty-seven Strength behind it.
As the man was being yanked forward, by his long blonde hair, a huge blade smacked him on the back of the head. While there was very little physical damage or pain, he was in-tune with his body enough to realize that nearly a third of his Health had disappeared.
Even though he had considerable magical-defenses on his Uncommon armor, a ‘-101’ still appeared above his head. He roared, while swinging that ominous scythe towards the Nephilim, as he continued to pick-up speed.
However, Michael just aimed the back of his left hand towards the oncoming attack and activated his blindingly bright shield of light. The beautiful Ogress’ crimson eyes glared at him, while screaming “Die you fucking piece of shit!”
He yelled “What the actual fuck!? It even talks! Gah, that would be so annoying!” as he nonchalantly deflected the attack. The man was a Super-Elite, so his Defense and Attack Rating were triple what his ‘base-stats’ would normally indicate. That was one of the ways that magical-beasts and humanoids could be balanced as well.
Thus, with Michael’s five Rares and one Epic, he wasn’t actually weaker than the enemy. His Agility was far lower, but his Tanking stats were much higher, and the only advantage that Ryan had was that he could fly.
The moment that the Nephilim grabbed hold of that Green-Elf Incubus, the fight was already over. He slammed the man’s relatively large, but lanky body against the stone rampart, and then stabbed his giant blade into the back of his neck.
It was a deadly-strike, and dealt over three-hundred points of damage; plus, his head was cleanly separated from his body. Michael let out a deafening battle-cry of victory: “Pwned~, Bitches~!”