Titan: A LitRPG Adventure (UnderVerse Book 4) Jez Cajiao (top ten books of all time TXT) 📖

gave a chirp of warning and started to slow. I flicked the switch, wanting to save it for later, and slid it into a bag, before grinning as a Shir lumbered into view, its right leg shattered and barely able to hold its weight.

I lunged for it, kicking the knee and sending it tilting towards that side as the leg gave out; then I grabbed the horns and drove its skull down as hard as I could into a pile of rubble, making the air resound with the sounds of bones breaking.

I yanked it back and then down again, ignoring a dagger that slammed into my armored back and scraped along before glancing off.

I heaved it back and staggered as one of the horns I was holding broke off. Growling in fury, I began ramming the horn into the Shir’s skull until it collapsed, then ripped it back out and searched around.

My unthinking savagery had carried me through the majority of the group, and as I’d run, I’d beaten and kicked others aside, which meant I now stood encircled.

The majority of the undead were unarmed; only a few actually carried real weapons, with the majority relying on teeth and nails. The few that did have weapons were starting to surround me fully now, their swords and maces, spears and flails, morningstars and axes dimly reflecting the light from my team’s lights in the distance.

I could feel the gloating of the Lich under my feet, hidden safely away under the rubble, as its creatures prepared to slaughter me and mine.

“I don’t fucking think so,” I growled, taking a deep breath in and glaring down at a gap in the rubble where I could dimly see bones.

The knowledge was there, I knew. It had come as part of the enormous amount of information Amon had shared, but as disjointed and incomplete as it was, I didn’t have it all. I had a vague sense of danger, a warning of damage, and that was it. Well, if it was a choice between a little pain and fucking this asshole’s day up? That wasn’t a choice that needed to be considered.

I checked, seeing I’d managed to regenerate eleven mana so far, and I needed far more, at least thirty-five.

I thought I knew what to do, but before I tried it, before I risked breaking my mana channels and seriously fucking myself up, I had one single, tiny, sneaky trick left to play.

I dug my hand into the bag on my hip and summoned the bottle I wanted to my hands, checked it, and grinned evilly down at the Lich that was trapped beneath the bodies of its minions below me.

It might be safe from me, at least until my mana regenerated… but it wasn’t safe from this.

I bit into the cork, pulled it out, and spat it to the side, before giving the Lich the finger and pouring the sluggish, foul-smelling concoction down the hole.

“Say hello to my little friend!” I called down before turning and glaring at the ring of oncoming undead. I could see the others smashing through the back ranks in a frantic attempt to get to me before I was overwhelmed, but I stood tall and rolled my shoulders, getting ready.

You have summoned a small Earth Golem… do you wish to command this creation now?

Yes/No…

I grinned and selected ‘Yes’, feeling a new sensation bloom in my mind. It was a hollow, echoing feeling, and I sensed it was the basic mentality of the Golem, unthinking, waiting for orders.

Well, I reflected, they wouldn’t need to be complicated, at least.

“Smash Barry the Lich into paste,” I ordered it aloud, remembering how well telling the uncovered War Golem I’d found in the Waystation to ‘tear his arms off and beat him to death with them’ had worked with regards to the Ogre which the goblins had thought was their trump card.

It’d been over very quickly.

When a creature made of a mixture of stone and metal, and god only knew what else, weighing several tons and filled with implacable resolve, faced off against a dumb creature of meat and bone that weighed less than a third in comparison, it rarely ended well for the fleshling.

I heard a screech of fear, pain, and fury rising suddenly from under the rubble, and it started to move as the amalgamations frantically tried to respond to their master’s cries for help.

While they scrambled to save him, the undead surrounding me were rapidly abandoned by their directing mind, and it showed. The entire first rank staggered, slowing and beginning to move disjointedly, staggering and pausing, as opposed to the single-minded intensity they’d begun to demonstrate once again.

When they were distracted, I struck. The nearest one was less than five feet away now, short, thick bodied, and armored in chainmail that had seen better days. The undead dwarf was dragging a maul that was almost as big as it was.

I lunged forwards and kicked the dwarf’s right arm as it started to bring the weapon around, slamming it backwards. As the dwarf staggered, I grabbed its left and right upper arms, then lifted my leg and planted my right foot on its face, heel to chin, before kicking out and pulling at the same time.

The rotten links of flesh and sections of beard that made up most of the face and throat tore through quickly as the head popped loose, and the corpse lost the animating force, collapsing to the floor in true death.

I grunted as I released it, reaching down and lifting the maul, then giving it a swing to get the weight right in my mind.

It was a giant of a hammer, close to a mix of a long-handled Mjolnir and a mattock, with a slightly curved spiked head on one side opposite a huge, flat slab of metal.

I hefted it in one hand as I grinned at the mobile corpses around me. They’d gone from a risk to essentially walking skittles as they responded to their master’s