The Forgotten Faithful: A LitRPG Adventure (UnderVerse Book 2) Cajiao, Jez (best selling autobiographies TXT) 📖

cast a spell, or channel it into my naginata. I just held it, the feeling of its power flowing through me, back and forth, building.

I twisted, going low, and spun the naginata around behind my back, flashing the point out as it came close to the nearest Drow, before pulling back and doing the last thing they’d expect… throwing it with all my might directly behind me. I pulled all my mana into myself; I didn’t know what I was doing differently, but I somehow forced the power through myself, submerging it in my very atoms.

I heard a gasp and saw the widening of the nearest Drow’s eyes as he saw his companion speared through. As if in slow motion, I saw his eyes track back, focusing in on me and narrowing in a glare, before widening in alarm again.

I’d used the distraction of throwing my naginata, a move I’d hoped would hit one of them, but hadn’t really expected, in reality, to cover for my shifting of stance.

I’d gathered my legs under me, and I leapt at the Drow, his swords moving back from their casual arcs a second too late as I grappled him to the ground.

He tried to stab at me, his swords clattering off the sides of my armor as I grabbed onto his silken tunic, leant back… and nutted him as hard as I could.

His eyes rolled back in his head as his nose shattered, blood spurting across his face as his right cheek cracked under the impact, deforming inwards. I hauled back and did it again, and a third time, before a boot slammed into my helm from my left. I rolled, dragging my opponent up on top of me and straight into his companion’s second kick, releasing the stunned and now fugly Drow to fall to the side as I swept the leg from the one who’d just kicked me.

I yanked him closer and drove my ‘Dagger of Ripping’ down hard, punching through the thin, aristocratic asshole armor just above his knee. No crude steel for this dickhead; oh no. It was a mixture of chitin and some amazingly soft, supple black silk. It wasn’t strong enough to stop my blade as it slammed home, though, and when I yanked it to the side, then back, widening the wound, before using it to haul myself up his body, he screamed in pain.

I yanked the knife free and slammed it home in his eye, smashing the fresh Drow corpse backwards as I forced myself to my feet.

I felt stronger. I could feel the blood roaring through me, thundering in my ears. I could feel the naked disbelief and shock of the Drow that sat a dozen feet away, my naginata sticking out of his stomach. I looked over at the one I’d been grappling with; he was hissing in pain, trying to pour a healing potion into his mouth, but it looked like the combination of a broken nose, crushed inwards cheekbone and smashed upper jaw was slowing him down. I grinned at him as I stomped over to the one I’d skewered.

I stopped, standing over him, and looked down. He was shaking, both hands on the shaft sticking out of his belly, and when he looked up at me in shock… I ‘Sparta’ kicked him in the face. I felt bones crack as his head slammed backwards, and I caught the naginata’s base as it rose, stamping on his shoulder to keep him still as I yanked it out.

He screamed in pain, and I made eye contact with the one with the ruined face, maintaining it as I stabbed downwards, twisted, and yanked my naginata back up in one fluid motion.

I stepped away from my second Drow corpse and stomped towards the last one living, who was frantically pouring the liquid into the ruin of his face now, trying to scuttle backwards as he did.

I stepped forward, spinning the naginata around and bringing the steel clad base down hard on the arm he was using to support himself. The crack echoed through the dark forest, until a heartbeat later, a second one joined it, rising along with his agonized screams.

I slammed the naginata down hard, the blade tip punching through the armor of his leg and deep into the loamy earth beneath, and I leaned on it casually, snorting and then spitting a wad of blood out onto his cheek as I looked down at him.

“Now, you fucker…” I whispered. “…you and I are going to have a little chat about who you are, where you live, and WHERE THE FUCK MY WISP IS!” I roared the last at him, and punched him in the face, rocking him back and making him scream as the naginata cut deeper with his every movement.

I crouched down, my Dagger of Ripping in hand, and I looked at his ruined face, hefting the blade in my hand as I glared into his one intact eye. The other was covered in blood, face broken in around it and I doubted he could focus with it anymore. I looked at the slowly regenerating wounds, and I grinned evilly.

“You might think you’re healing…maybe even hoping to escape…but guess what’s really happening?” I whispered to him softly, almost lovingly, as I pressed the tip against his intact cheek and slowly increased the pressure until it pierced the skin, blood welling up around the blade. “Oh no…what it means is that you‘ll last longer while I play. I’ve got questions for you, you cocksucking piece of shit, and you’re going to beg me for the release of death…” I said, madness roaring through me. I’d gone straight through anger, past fury and into that cold, dangerous rage where anything was possible. I could feel Amon behind my eyes, watching. He’d been an Emperor once, true enough, but I had some of his memories, and now, as he fed me more, I knew how he’d built his Empire.

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