Road to Mastery: A LitRPG Apocalypse

The goblins rested in a clearing.

There were five of them, including the hobgoblin, and they were arrayed in a loose circle so that all angles were covered. The corpses of a boar family rested between them, while only one goblin was lightly injured.

The hobgoblin was clearly much more skilled in warfare than its lesser brethren. The scene Jack currently saw was a far cry from the distracted, disorganized, inefficient hunting squads he’d fought before.

That made things difficult. Half his success was based on goblin stupidity, and that weakness was now covered. It only enhanced his decision to start with the hobgoblin—which was Level 6. He’d met another squad but ignored it as their hobgoblin was at Level 7.

The hobgoblin had to fall first, or it might rally the other goblins into an organized attack, which would end up badly for Jack. Moreover, there was no visible tell about its strengths and weaknesses; if it was fast, as goblins tended to be, he couldn’t escape unless he killed it.

As he watched them from a distant bush, resting before they returned to the tribe, he focused on the hobgoblin. It was a male of average stature, like a short human, with long dark hair done in a ponytail. Its body was slightly taut and its eyes took in everything calmly, seemingly emptily, but Jack had no doubt the hobgoblin was on guard. He only dared inspect it from the side.

Moreover, it had a weapon. A shortsword. And that was really bad news because Jack had no idea how to deal with a shortsword. His basic fistfighting skill didn’t cover that.

At least, it was unarmored.

I must kill it before it draws its weapon, he concluded.

He didn’t move. The goblins were in a solid formation, so he had no way to ambush them. However, he knew which forest path led to their tribe, and he lay in wait on a branch they would have to pass under. The leaves hid him well, so, even if the hobgoblin looked up, it was unlikely he would be spotted.

Time went by. Soon, he heard some far-off cries; the goblins were ready to return. He couldn’t see them now, as any glance risked his stealth; he could only watch under his branch and wait for the hobgoblin.

The sound of footsteps and hushed yapping drew closer. Jack’s body was almost shivering from the tension, but he kept it in check. His eyes sharpened. His breath grew deeper. His fists were clenched and ready to draw blood.

As his tension reached its climax, a green form passed below him. He almost lashed out on instinct but barely held himself back. One goblin walked past, carrying a little boar in each arm, followed by another. The hobgoblin was third in line so it couldn’t be easily attacked.

It was a smart plan. Unfortunately, it hadn’t accounted for Jack’s tree-climbing genius.

The moment Jack saw the hobgoblin, he rolled around the branch and fell on its head. At the same time, hearing something, it looked up and only saw a fist.

Jack channeled his entire falling momentum and fistfighting skill into this single punch. He turned his body and ignored the landing. His punch smashed right into the hobgoblin’s raised face like a meteor from the sky, with enough force to almost break Jack’s hand and completely break the hobgoblin’s face.

The sound was sickening, and its neck released a crack but barely held. Jack fell to the ground and rolled amidst the goblins, which were too slow to react. The hobgoblin, blinded by pain and shock, similarly didn’t react in time.

He got up at once and nailed a punch into its sternum, then another into its falling throat. The hobgoblin was already stumbling, but it possessed admirable tenacity. Despite taking the hits head-on, it still stood.

Jack grimaced. The weakness of fistfighting was that it couldn’t easily deliver critical strikes—or, at least, he didn’t know how.

The hobgoblin’s hand was already grasping for its shortsword, so Jack had no choice. He pounced and fell on it like an animal, pelting it with bone-cracking punches. It screamed.

The other goblins came to their senses. Seeing their strong leader helpless and injured, their first reaction was to shout, “THE HUNTER!” and run away. That saved Jack’s life.

He kneeled on the hobgoblin’s body and punched away with every fiber of his beings. Each hit was strong enough to reverberate through its bones, and his knuckles were bleeding even through the fabric strips, but the goblin’s body was hard. Level 6 wasn’t a joke.

Deep in its pain, it reacted instinctively. It kicked out and punched at Jack, slamming him with the full power of an evolved goblin, and his eyes swam for a second. That was enough.

The hobgoblin drove a fist into his ribs and rolled with it, escaping under Jack’s legs and turning to face him. Its face was a mask of blood, but it somehow remained conscious. One hand grabbed its shortsword handle. The other reached for its eyes to wipe them.

Jack wasn’t an idiot to let it.

Ignoring his burning ribs, he fell on the hobgoblin again, not letting it wield the shortsword properly.

By now, he knew he was in deep shit. This fucker had prodigious defense, and the other goblins would catch on eventually. If he couldn’t finish this off quickly, he might be finished himself.

Jack fell on the hobgoblin with all the force of a desperate, cornered man. The shortsword handle dug into his belly and he released all air, but he’d escaped the blade. The two rolled on the ground, each struggling to come out on top, and Jack held its wrist firmly.

He could feel that the hobgoblin was struggling to even stay conscious. It just needed a little push to go over the edge.

As they rolled, that push came in the form of its ponytail. Jack stepped on it with a knee and the hobgoblin’s head jolted sideways, letting Jack have the upper hand. He positioned himself, then drove a devastating jab into the back of its neck while still holding the ponytail down.

The hobgoblin’s neck finally snapped with a sickening crunch, and its lifeless body fell to the ground.

Jack didn’t stay to watch. He turned to find the goblins, some of which were about to group up against him. When they saw him kill their leader, they froze, then scattered and ran for their lives.

Level Up! You have reached Level 6.

Through the pain, Jack’s eyes remained sharp. He’d known some would escape; his goal was to kill the hobgoblin and as many others as he could. So what if they ran? Any goblin he let go now would become another grunt to face in the future. Mercy at the enemy was cruelty at oneself.

Jack wouldn’t make that mistake. He put both points in Physical in the blink of an eye.

Name: Jack Rust

Species: Human, Earth-387

Faction: -

Grade: F

Level: 6

Physical: 20

Mental: 7

Will: 7

Skills: Fistfighting (I)

He pounced, landing one punch at the back of a low-level goblin’s head and killing it instantly before turning to another—

—and then he froze. Completely.

There was no goblin there. What met his gaze was a dark-furred wolf larger than any he’d seen before. Its snout was only three feet away from him, chewing on a just-slain goblin. Its teeth crumbled the body like paper.

The wolf seemed completely calm. Jack met its eyes and felt true despair. This wasn’t the panic of an ambush going awry. This was the hopelessness of a predator he could never, ever escape. If this wolf wanted him dead, he was dead; simple as that.

Black Wolf, Level 49 (Elite) (Dungeon Boss)

Black wolves are mostly solitary creatures. They are also territorial, proud, aggressive, and infamous for being a scourge at the peak of F-rank. If a Black Wolf is spotted, experienced hunter squads should be dispatched quickly, or all big game of the surrounding area will disappear.

Jack stood completely still, quickly averting his eyes to not be seen as a challenger.

The black wolf chomped down hard three times, then swallowed, and the goblin was gone. It then turned to survey Jack.

His mind raced. His newfound confidence disappeared, replaced with fear. It wasn’t just the Level; he could feel the difference between him and the wolf. He was helpless, hopeless, thoroughly and utterly fucked.

Left without options, Jack fell to the ground and bowed to the wolf. It was all he could do. The System description said the wolf was proud—perhaps, if he showed subservience, it would spare him.

The goblin beside him—not the dead one—followed suit in a moment of genius. It fell to the ground next to Jack, its butt quivering. The other goblin, the more distant one, chose to run.

Jack didn’t even see how the wolf moved. A blur crossed his eyes as fast as a blink, and the wolf was no longer there. It was now chomping on the goblin that had tried to run. It screamed once; then, the wolf’s jaws closed around its head, killing it without any resistance whatsoever.

For the goblin beside Jack, that was the straw to break the camel’s back. Its entire lifetime of smartness spent on its previous decision, it now stood and ran like the stupid shit it was.

Jack held his breath and lowered his head even further. However, unexpectedly, the sound of the goblin’s footsteps didn’t stop. He could still hear them, tapping against the ground and slowly getting further and further away.

He dared raise his eyes, and the wolf was still devouring the previous goblin. Then, without turning around, it simply walked away.

We are insects to it… Jack realized, and, though this thought should have been terrifying, it lit a howling bonfire inside him. The wolf didn’t know this, but it was Jack’s designated enemy. He had to kill it to escape. There was a target on its back, and though Jack was currently too weak to even stand in its presence, that would change eventually.

Then, it wouldn’t ignore him.

As the wolf walked away, Jack didn’t dare move just yet. It was only after the sound of its unsuitably light footsteps had disappeared that he raised his head, gazing in the distance.

He had survived. And, where there’s life, there is hope. He quickly brought his thoughts in order.

A goblin had escaped, but that wasn’t too important. He’d expected it, anyway. The tribe would know of him, but he would handle whatever they threw at him. In Jack’s mind, the goblins were only stepping stones to reach that wolf.

Level 49… He shuddered. The highest level he’d seen so far was the earth bear at Level 15, but the wolf was so much higher than that. It didn’t make sense. How would he get that high? With the goblin weed bush?

Are you trying to kill me, System…

He chuckled. Of course it was, and that was okay. The odds might have been against him, but so what? Jack would find a way—or gather food, block the entrance to his cave, and hide in there until more people came from outside the dungeon. It would happen, eventually. He couldn’t be the strongest person on Earth.

For now, his hope was that the System would form a Level ladder for him to follow. The goblins could maybe take his Level to the tens, then maybe the bears and monkeys would be hiding a soft incline of levels deeper in their territory. Maybe there were a bunch of gorillas at Level 30—how would he know?

If yes, he could take things slow, or at least slower than jumping from Level 15 to 45.

Jack refocused. The wolf’s seemingly unreachable Level hadn’t just terrified him, but also fueled his resolve to go higher. Night was falling. He would sleep, and come morning, he would keep hunting goblins. They had to eat, so they would send out squads, and now that he knew what hobgoblins were capable of, he could craft a better plan against them.

It would all work out.

His fingers tightened around the hobgoblin's shortsword—a halfway-decent shiv—and stuck it under his belt. He wouldn't use it as a weapon—he had no idea how to wield it, and his fists were effective enough—but it could help with skinning the rabbits or other practical tasks.

Plus, he had to admit that, after using his fists to fight for so long, using a weapon now would feel hollow. Muted. Distancing himself from the thrill of the fight. What the fuck is wrong with me... he wondered, but he didn't stop grinning. Is the constant fighting turning me insane? Is my brain adapting to cope? Or am I simply unearthing what was always there?

Why do I feel so alive?

That night, he dreamt of dark wolf jaws tearing him apart, over and over. He didn’t sleep well.