Battle Admin System 12

12 - The Biggest and Baddest

A burnt-up human face sneered down at Sleek. The goblin smiled back with knives covered in blood and one more breath in his lungs.

Death seemed imminent, but tonight had surprises for both goblins and humans. Like having actual backup.

A black bolt slammed into the fire human’s chest and knocked him back. The flames meant for Sleek flickered out. It only happened for a moment.

Sleek’s knives stabbed the fire human over sixty times before he tried to conjure his flames again. The embers died out for good.

Sleek didn’t want to move any further, however. He stared into the fire human’s face in disbelief. He didn’t want to look up or he might see through the clever illusion.

He could feel it through the ground, though. Earthquakes. It shook him to the core and rattled his little goblin bones.

The roar snapped him back to reality. Deep, ferocious, and angry. When he stood up, something big careened in his direction. A giant foot.

The sole passed inches above his head and kicked a human trying to thrust a spear through Sleek. The human flew and snapped his back against a tree trunk.

The foot slammed down with a soft thud behind Sleek. Then Lady Moonstrider lunged away with a big whoosh of wind that nearly knocked Sleek over.

No matter how many times he saw her in action, Sleek couldn’t believe his own eyes. Lady Moonstrider moved like a death storm given a giant female body.

Her size and weight barely affected her. She had everything to her advantage against smaller races. She was too strong. Too quick. Too magical. While being big. It was unfair.

Humans died by the droves as she stomped, slammed her fists down, and used dark magic she’d never shown before. Black whips lashed out with hits like thunder claps. Black bolts struck and interrupted enemy magic. Lady Moonstrider dominated and gave no mercy.

The spellcasters died fast and horrible deaths. The warriors weren’t so lucky. Some warriors had strong durability or survival skills keeping them alive. So Lady Moonstrider batted them around like a cat pawing at mice. Until their endurance stopped prolonging their torment and they finally fell dead.

A few must’ve removed the skill keeping them alive so they can die faster. Sleek linked up with the other goblin survivors. Surprise, surprise, Sleek counted ten altogether. The only ones dead were the two he’d seen perish tonight.

Twenty-two goblins had come here to give the bandits some trouble and scout out weaknesses. Eleven remained before backup arrived.

Sleek gestured for his grunts to follow. They found a snowy mound outside of the action to sit and watch.

Once Lady Moonstrider finished, she strode up to them dressed like a barbaric goblin queen. Her footfalls landed fully and shook them hard. Sleek’s neck ached from looking so far up.

All the goblins knelt behind him.

Sleek stood.

“Took you long enough. We thought you had a nice stroll and nap in the woods. Then we got worried and figured we’ll finish up without you and go see if you’re okay.”

Sleek smiled to hide the fear coursing through his veins. He kept his eyes up at the dark snowy night instead of trying to predetermine which foot would crush him. He still remembered the squashed mess of when she caught a goblin betraying her for some extra coins.

If I’m gonna get stepped on, might as well be for my lovely mouth.

“Is this all of us?” Lady Moonstrider asked.

“The other eleven sneaked off like the lazy slobs they are. Went down to the nice big gambling den below. Pruz led the way, of course.”

Movement. Fast. Large. Every instinct in Sleek screamed for him to run. He kept his feet planted and his smile wide as oversized death fell upon him.

A metal hand with claws that could shred Sleek into bloody strips hit the ground to his right. Lady Moonstrider’s big silver-white eyes hovered over his face.

The heavy heat she gave off reminded Sleek that he’d been in the cold for .too long. It burned to be close to her.

“There aren’t enough apologies in the world,” she said. “But I will give them. Apologies. I wasn’t here when I should’ve been.”

Sleek worked his jaw up and down. He almost cracked but pulled himself together at the last moment. He shrugged. “Eh, it’s part of the job. We live to serve and die. Don’t forget that.”

Lady Moonstider stared down at him for longer than comfortable. Her new hand clawed deep and wide furrows into the ground. Sleek smelled something scary off the metallic arm. His little black heart felt stained from sniffing it.

“Ask from me anything,” Lady Moonstrider demanded. “What do you wish for right now, Sleek?”

Sleek looked back at the remaining grunts. “What do you say? We head back home with the lady escorting us? Or–”

“Let’s finish the bloody job,” a goblin said. “I didn’t chew off a frostbitten toe to come back a loser.”

“I want to see the looks from the guild’s faces when we deliver the hostages,” another goblin said.

“They will weep blood when we take what’s ours from the loot,” a third one said.

The others agreed.

Sleek shook his head at the crazies and looked back at Lady Moonstrider. The surprise on her face was worth a painting. She smoothened out her expression and nodded stiffly before rising to her great height.

“You are the experts here. How can I help?” she asked.

Sleek glanced around. At the dead bandits. The huge footracks and impact craters of Lady Moonstrider. The blood on her hands and feet. And around her mouth. She still looked hungry, too.

Sleek gave the best suggestion anyone could. “We need a Lillea Moonstrider who is the biggest and baddest monster ever.”

“Lillea Solo Moonstrider,” the lady corrected. “That is our name now.”

“And we can certainly be the best and the worst monster ever,” said her arm with a haunting and metallic voice.

Sleek stared at the arm.

The hand wriggled its metal claws at him.

Sleek burst into uproarious laughter.

This was why he was loyal to Moonstrider. It was too much fun!

***

Lillea was angry. Part of her anger was because of Sleek. He knew he had the rightful grounds to stand defiantly and call her out for her negligence. It was fair. But it irritated her. She had the demon’s pride circulating around her body.

Pruz would’ve answered her with more care. But Pruz was gone. His absence hurt Lillea. And Sleek had done the best he could in their dire situation. So Lillea’s anger turned to the only direction it could go. Toward the remaining bandits.

The bandit’s camp surrounded a fortified compound miles north of the main thoroughfare between Cold Tooth and Port Precipice. They’d inscribed rune scripts around the area to camouflage their large operation.

Enchanted walls made of logs stood twenty feet high. The buildings inside were spartan at best with the bastion reaching taller than Lillea in height. The bandit leadership would occupy the top of the bastion. The hostages were held in the basement under tight watch.

Hundreds of male and female bandits milled about or worked inside and outside the compound walls. Their levels ranged from the mid 100s to the mid 300s. Chances were the leadership had a bandit in the 400s. But seeing them would be a stroke of unluck. The bandits had enough bodies to snuff out resistance even if all they’d used was bandits in the Level 100s.

Slain monsters hung from ropes and posts while bandits carved them up. Others watched, lay about, drank, and enjoyed themselves as if they were invincible.

They derived entertainment from nonhuman and foreigner torture. Different races had their limbs nailed to posts. Lizard folks. Kat kin. Dwarves. Elves. Gnomes. Humans from foreign lands. Their bodies were canvases detailing their suffering before meeting gruesome ends.

Lillea recognized two of her goblins who had the misfortune of becoming entertainment for the bandits. Her anger toward Sleek’s uppity attitude disappeared completely. Her bloodlust grew. She observed the bandits from the darkest pool of shadows under the snowy night. Then she began her monstrous work.

She went after the Level 100s first.

Strings of shadow flicked out from the darkness and wrapped around their throats. Fast, sneaky, accurate. With them instantly silenced, she yanked them off their feet before they could raise an alarm with their magic.

The panicking bandits struggled with the black nooses tight around their necks. They looked into the shadowy abyss of their destination. Their gazes widened at the hungry silver-white eyes waiting in the dark.

They passed the point of no return, swallowed by the shadows. Quickly. Quietly. And with maximum bloodshed.

More Level 100s found themselves ensnared and yanked into the shadows. Five at a time if Lillea could manage it. She aimed for the ones at the edges of the camp. When their friends weren’t looking. Or when they were alone on their cots, thinking they could sleep safely tonight instead of being wary of the predator hunting them.

She moved as she took out bandits. Circling around the entire camp. Snatching her victims on the edges. She kept them silent as she gave them each a gruesome death.

The night wore on before the bandits started to notice too many people had disappeared. Most of their Level 100s were gone. Lillea still wanted to reap more bandits.

The game turned more difficult. Finesse was needed. Instead of five at a time, Lillea aimed for one at a time against the Level 200s.

Five shadow strings immobilized and silenced the Level 200 bandits who fell into her trap unaware. Their confidence became their undoing.

The Level 200s were too trusting of their own individual power without realizing a bigger predator was here to prey on them. They went searching for the Level 100s without thinking critically.

Lillea knew the current game wouldn’t last. But she took advantage for long enough. Eventually, a bandit in the high 200s revealed her with a light ray.

The bandit woman accomplished nothing more, her eyes widening at the appearance of a giant crouched and ready to pounce. Lillea flattened the bandit woman with a hammerfist before sprinting straight at the wall.

Pandemonium ensued, and Lillea fanned the flames of chaos with a wall-smashing shoulder bash. The enchantments failed to slow her. She flew through like an unstoppable ram and smashed down multiple wooden buildings in her path. The attack had force and athleticism enhancing Lillea to maximize the havoc.

From here, Lillea wore her crown and scrambled around on hands and feet like a primitive giant. The magic strikes rained down en masse. Some missed while she remained low and shifty. Others struck hard. The crown barely helped even while overtaxing her channels. She kept it on anyway. It was the top layer to her defense, regardless of how overburdened.

The real power to her defense was Ravenous Survival. She was at her densest right now after consuming a great heap of meat and bone. Every footfall was the loudest and heaviest Lillea had ever produced.

Her ragged outfit fell in pieces, unable to support her and withstand the enemy assault. But her flesh withstood or healed the light damage she suffered. It also gave rise to her offense, too.

Her force-enhanced strikes sounded like bombs. They struck harder because of her increased mass. Buildings scattered in pieces from the whopping impacts of her punches, kicks, and flying tackles. Bandits screamed in pain and horror while sent airborne with the rubble.

Kills became less of a concern. All that mattered was chaos. The humans in the high 200s or in their 300s had defensive abilities that helped mitigate quick deaths. Speed. Durability. Sometimes teleportation, as rare as that was. Bandits had a mixed bag of tricks to fall back on. Or they raged and attacked.

A concentrated effort by the Level 300s blasted or hacked at Lillea. Slashes broke her flesh and drew blood. Elemental attacks singed, electrocuted, stung, and badgered her.

Her channels begged for release from the Prideful Crown. Lillea gave in. She flipped over a standing wall section. Bolts, streams, crescents chased after her.

The crown faded from around her head. She hit a dark spot and submerged. Most of her body phased out of sight, but her back remained exposed longer than preferred. The bandits beat her back bloody with magic and weapons until she submerged fully.

The pain disappeared. Her wounds healed. She swam hard, ignoring the pressure, and resurfaced in the darkened woods. Outside the bandit camp perimeter.

Lillea smiled at the lack of lit torches. Bandits ran and hopped around searching for her near the compound walls. They missed the scurrying goblins snuffing out their lights.

The darkness closed in on the compound. Then with foresight and impeccable timing, the goblins fled at once. The bandits realized too late they had lost clear sight to the snowy darkness and the mad giant.

“I’ve never killed so many men and women before,” Lillea rambled in a smooth conversational tone. “My levels are flying high. And your taste isn’t too bad. Only a little sour.”

The bandits fell quiet. A few murmured in fright. The Level 300s remained resolute. There were a dozen of them.

Then a man exited from the highest window of the bastion. He stayed hovering in the air and gave a sense of his power. Noble rank. Early 400s in level. Everything about him gave Lillea a sense of danger.

“Lady Moonstrider,” the man called out. The air circulated around him with calm expertise. “I’ve heard plenty about you. I’m a little disappointed, however. The tales tell of you being a sophisticated and stalwart guardian. But it turns out you’re a mangy maneater just like the rest of your mindless kind.”

Lillea worked her Moonstrider Learning harder than usual. She picked up bits and pieces by following a thread of rumors surrounding an air-casting noble in the Level 400s. The man was going gray but not quite elderly. He had a military fitness to him.

When it seemed like she had nothing, she dislodged a small tavern tale in her memory. It followed a famous soldier of the empire who had deserted and committed crimes. Nobody had caught him yet. The price on his head was large.

“Captain Oscor of House Airmance,” Lillea called, watching the bandit lord flinch. “I’m sorry about your house being punished and consumed by the empire. There was nobody there to defend it after desertion.”

“I didn’t desert!” Captain Airmance shouted. “It was the empire pushing me out. The damn lords kissing at the emperor’s feet and ignoring me.”

I was right! Lillea’s brain felt like dozens of torchlights illuminating at once. With the bandit lord’s name and background known, everything else fell into place because of her learning skill. She filled in the gaps logically. She knew what to do to play with the man’s emotions.

“You lacked supplies, funding, and reinforcements when you were told to win a war against the empire’s southern enemies. The empire played with you as your men died. All for what? To shift their eyes toward the north. Toward the untamed lands beyond Cold Tooth and the vast riches lying under the snow that are known to me. Now the nobles of your empire kiss the ground I walk on.”

Captain Airmance twitched and snarled. Her words struck a chord with the old soldier. The Level 300s looked at him with some doubt. The Level 200s cowered, of course, while preparing themselves for the next round.

“They said you were smart,” Captain Airmance growled. “Too smart. How can a creature be as smart and monstrous as you? Unless...” He sniffed hard. “Ah. Yes. I can smell the sulfur off you. So this is the length of the empire’s depravity? Betrayals. Lies. And walking hand-in-hand with demons.”

As he spoke, he hovered closer toward Lillea’s location. His Level 300s walked beneath him while spread out. They had their weapons and magic ready.

Behind them were some Level 200s following as backup while others stayed at the compound walls. All eyes were forward on the violent matchup that was incoming.

Lillea found it troubling that her demonic changes could be sensed. He specializes in air. He would smell sharply at his level. Most people would not.

Still, it annoyed her that he figured it out so easily. She would have to workout her frustration soon.

“I’ll give it to you, Moonstrider,” Captain Airmance continued. “You’re strong. Too strong. If nobody cuts you down now, there’ll be no end to your appetite.”

Lillea sneered.

“A hero of the people now? No, no. You had your chance. You’re a deserter and a bandit with a worthless vendetta.” Lillea laced her voice with arrogance that could scour a man’s soul. “I’ll be a celebrated hero for generations. And you and your people will be vanquished and forgotten.”