The True Endgame - LightNovelsOnl.com
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The group is lucky as there is not a single cloud to block their vision. Thousands of s.h.i.+ning lights of various colors hang in the sky. Constellations, nebulae, comets, local planets – all and more are visibly decorating the s.p.a.ce above them. Such a sight is simply impossible to see in reality; this is as close as they can get to ever seeing this in person.
"Saya, is it possible for you to take a screenshot of us from third person?" Fenrir asks.
"You named your a.s.sistant 'Saya?' You really are a weeb, Fenny," Oleander says.
Whoops. Fenrir was so distracted by the night sky's beauty that he asked her out loud.
"Sure thing, Onii-chan!" Saya answers.
Oleander and Serra already know what to do. Serra gets close to Fenrir's right side, and Oleander nuzzles up again his left side while pulling Bonekraka in close.
"3…2…1…"
They all hear the countdown in Saya's cutesy voice, and they all hear the sound effect of a camera snapping afterward. A small window temporarily pops up to show the screenshot. The four of them are standing side by side, and they're all smiling save for Bonekraka. Behind them is a vast ocean with calm waves rolling onto the sh.o.r.e, and above that is a beautiful and brilliant sky.
"Hey, Fenny, I think I heard your Saya," Oleander says. Bonekraka grunts in agreement and Serra nods as well.
"Really? Let me ask about it," Fenrir says.
"All willing partic.i.p.ants of a planned screenshot will hear a synchronized countdown! They can also get a copy of the screenshot if they ask their own a.s.sistants for it, Onii-chan."
Fenrir relays the information from Saya to the rest of the group. Oleander and Serra let him know that they've saved it as well, and Bonekraka is – well, Bonekraka. Fenrir and Oleander both know that he most likely saved it even if he would never admit it.
With the stargazing and screenshotting session over, the group follows the beach southward with naught but the sky above to guide them. A pair of dual moons...o...b..ting one another has since risen into view. One of the moons has a soft blue color to it. The other moon has an orangish coloring. Each one looks several times closer to this world than Earth's moon. Given how the ocean's waves aren't completely annihilating the coastline, he a.s.sumes that their gravitational effect on the ocean's tides is not meant to be realistic. The moons look amazing at least.
Bonekraka grunts and groans every few feet. With how much heavier he is, and how much larger his feet are, any sh.e.l.ls or pieces of driftwood that he steps on cause pain equal to stepping on children's building blocks.
"Regretting setting pain to 100% yet, Bone?" Fenrir asks. His question is answered by having a sh.e.l.l thrown at his head which he somehow dodges, surprising even himself.
Nothing particularly eventful happens as they walk down the coast.
"Ugh, my a.s.sistant is making my head hurt. I keep asking him stuff about the game, but all of his answers make my head hurt or are too vague. It's like when you read a story and really want to understand how everything works, but the author doesn't even know how it works themselves, so they either don't bother going into detail or come up with some lame excuse to not go into it," Oleander whines.
"I forget how hardcore of a bookworm you are sometimes. Read anything good lately?" Fenrir asks.
"Not really. I've been busy with cla.s.ses. By cla.s.ses, I mean busy with my professors. Professors with an s, as in multiple professors," Oleander explains with a wink.
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Unfortunately, before Fenrir can ask for clarification about just how he's been busy with multiple professors, Bonekraka holds out an arm from the front of the group to signal a stop.
The three behind the orc all peak around him and see a couple of man-sized crabs digging their claws beneath the sand. "Looks like they're looking for something. Food?" Fenrir asks.
Each of the crabs' legs is the same height as Oleander, and their carapaces are almost as large as a bear's body! They each have a pair of large, spiny claws that have black tips in contrast to the red coloring of their sh.e.l.ls. Their eyes stick out from their bodies on short stalks.
"Those claws are almost as big as I am," Oleander says in a hushed voice. "Can crabs even hear?"
Everybody looks at Fenrir for an answer. He doesn't know whether to feel complimented or insulted. "No idea. Want to go around them, or try killing them? I'm going to be honest with you guys though, I haven't eaten any crab in a really long time and could really go for some right now," he explains. He's also excited to try out the combat. Just because his main goal is fis.h.i.+ng doesn't mean he has no interest in fighting. Plus, considering that the would-be enemy is a crab, and he would be killing it with a spear, he could technically consider this spearfis.h.i.+ng.
"Let me try out what I learned during the fight with the boar, alright, Boney?" Oleander asks. Bonekraka nods, letting Oleander go ahead to get into position. Fenrir and Serra look on to see what he's going to do.
Oleander moves into the tall gra.s.s bordering the sandy sh.o.r.e, sneaking up through it until he's as close to the crabs as he can get without leaving the gra.s.s. It's hard to see the exact details from where the rest of the group is, but they can see long, thin tendrils slowly slithering out through the gra.s.s toward the crabs. They look like gra.s.sy tentacles slithering like snakes.
"Hey, isn't that kind of too awesome considering we just started playing?" Fenrir asks, but he's not surprised. If anybody is going to be a prodigy in a game where magic is based off of a character's intelligence and willpower, then it's going to be Oleander. Fenrir is better at making long-term plans, but Oleander is the master at short-term strategy and also usually ends up being the one making all the money for the group.
The gra.s.sy tentacles slither closer and closer to the crabs until they're able to swiftly lunge forward and wrap around the crabs' claws! Each crab lifts its claws from the ground and looks around. They find themselves barely able to move their claws.
Their idle personalities have been replaced by the overseer, and now the crabs are fighting for their lives.
"Now!" Oleander shouts.
Bonekraka and Fenrir both charge forward! Bonekraka uses his fists and legs to punch and kick the nearest crab. Fragments of sh.e.l.l get broken off with every attack.
As impressive as Oleander's magic may be, he's still new to the game. The crabs break free from their viny chains and retaliate! One claw smashes into Bonekraka's chest, and the other reaches in to grab onto his left arm. Bonekraka's eyes go wide with pain as the claw crushes the arm within its grasp. To him, he can feel every last bit of pain that one would feel were this happening in real life, and he also hears the snapping of his bone and can see the gore inflicted by the attack. To Fenrir, who didn't enable gore, all he hears is Bonekraka's pained shouts and sees bloodied cuts on his arm.
Fenrir wants to help Bonekraka. The crab in front of him won't allow that. Fenrir thrusts his spear forward, piercing the crab's sh.e.l.l, but it looks as if it doesn't cause any actual pain. The crab continues approaching with its claws raised. One of its claws grabs onto the spear embedded inside of it, snaps it in half, and tosses it to the side as the other claw comes swinging at Fenrir!
He's able to jump out of the way, but all he has now is a broken stick with a rock glued to it. He looks at the rock.
This might just work. Switching his hold on the stick, he's positioned the end with the rock away from his hands and is now wielding it as if it is a hammer. The next time the crab swings a claw at him, he counterstrikes with his makes.h.i.+ft hammer to crack apart the sh.e.l.led claw! The struck claw reels back, but the other one comes in to smash into his side.
Fenrir's body gets tossed several feet away, leaving him laying on the sand clutching his side. It hurts! Yet, he's felt worse in reality. There's an equal amount of numbness as there is pain. That must be how the game balances between people who choose to feel all pain or no pain. Those who can't feel any pain instead feel numbness. What feels like a broken arm incapable of moving to one player would feel like a numb, immobile arm to another. Same result, different way of feeling it.
It's hard to get back up. The attack completely knocked the wind out of him and left a large bruise on his side. Looking up at Bonekraka, he sees the large orc tear the clawed arm holding his own off of the crab with his free arm. More viny tendrils lash forward to wrap around the crab's only remaining claw as Bonekraka begins smas.h.i.+ng the severed arm into the crab's carapace. Every single hit on the crab is accompanied by a brutish, very p.i.s.sed off shout in Russian. Fenrir has no idea what's being said, but he's pretty sure it's the kind of thing that Russians yell at bad players in FPS games.
He returns his attention to the crab approaching him. "What? All I wanted was a nice crab dinner," he taunts it. Picking up his "hammer," he rips the rock off of the shaft and tosses the stick aside.
A b.e.s.t.i.a.l urge is welling up within him. His head is lowered and stuck out ahead as he gets into a position similar to a wolf preparing to attack, his tail hangs still behind his legs, and he's even baring his teeth at the crab. A couple of p.r.o.nounced canines give the crab a brief moment of pause before proceeding closer.
Something is building up inside of him. It is an odd sensation. He knows that he can resist the temptation to give in to this feral urge, but at the same time, it just feels right to give in to it. In the same way that Bonekraka is brutally destroying his crab's body like a rampaging orc would, Fenrir wants to pounce and tear to shreds the crab in front of him like a wolf earning its meal.
And so he does. The moment the crab is close enough, Fenrir charges the crab, jumps between its two claws, and grapples onto its back! His left hand grabs onto the crab's left eyestalk as he wraps his legs around its carapace to keep himself steady. With the jagged rock in his right hand, he repeatedly smashes it down right between the crab's eyes. It tries reaching its claws behind to rip Fenrir off of him, but every single smack of the rock against its "head" staggers it. Fenrir keeps on smas.h.i.+ng, and smas.h.i.+ng, and smas.h.i.+ng until the sh.e.l.l covering its brain is broken away.
Despite the act itself being violent and gory, there is little blood and brain matter being splattered about as Fenrir starts smas.h.i.+ng the rock directly into its brain. He only gets a quick look into the hole that he's made in the crab's carapace. He struggles to actually see the brain or anything else for that matter. It's clearly there, but at the same time, his eyes can't actually notice it. Meanwhile, Bonekraka is noticing every single last bit of gore over at his crab.
The crab's entire body shudders from Fenrir's attacks. It only takes a few blows after reaching the brain directly to kill it. Its legs give out from underneath it, and its claws fall limply to its sides.
Bonekraka is still tearing apart his enemy despite it having been dead a minute ago.
"Are you alright?" Serra asks from behind Fenrir. Her voice is shaky; she sounds worried.
Fenrir takes a few moments to steady his breathing before answering her. "Yeah, no problem. Broke my spear though, so not too happy about that," Fenrir replies. "This rock – I'm going to keep this rock with me forever. It might not look like the hottest rock on the block, but – hey, I rhymed." He looks proud of himself.
Serra can't help smiling when she sees his dorky expression of satisfaction from his unplanned rhyme.
Fenrir doesn't know if it's just leftover adrenaline from the fight or a sudden wave of confidence from having defeated his first enemy that wasn't a helpless fish. Regardless of what it is, he's inspired to make a cheesy pickup line that he'll most likely regret less than a split second after saying it. "How's a crab dinner under moonlight sound?"
Yep. The internal cringing begins.
She smiles and nods her head.
Her answer is worth the self-cringe.
"Smile," Serra requests.
Huh? Fenrir gives her a confused smile. She points at his teeth. "They look bigger now," she says.
He touches his teeth. They feel slightly longer and are sharper than before. With his hand near his face to examine his teeth, he notices that even his nails are longer and sharper now! He's not turning into a werewolf or anything cliché like that, is he? He checks out his arms and legs. Alright, no more hair than before. Seems like the only changes to have happened involve his teeth and nails.
Bonekraka walks up to them with the crab and its severed arm in tow. Oleander accompanies him.
Looks like Fenrir isn't the only one to have changed.
