The Culling of Man: A litrpg adventure (Peril's Prodigy Book 1) by Craig Kobayashi (ereader android TXT) 📕

that gurgled out of its silver plate helmet made the hairs on Garath's neck stand on end, and the undead army jolted into action as one.

The skeletal army surrounding the Legionnaire swelled as its shout blessed them each with some kind of buff. Garath was tempted to will more information from the icon below each of their Health bars denoted by a flexed arm, but had more pressing concerns. Each of the affected minions grew a few inches in height as they surged forward with raised weapons.

“Do we still target the mages?” asked the urgent voice of a young boy over the Raid communication channel. Because Garath was within earshot of the person speaking, he knew it was SHONEN - one of the hawkies that had just joined The Band.

Garath hesitated, losing precious seconds as he weighed his options. Each second of deliberation was costly and the two-and-a-half hour battle had already begun. He could only make out three of the Undead Legionnaires in their direct vicinity - with dozens of Ghouls, Archers, and Magi at their command. If they continued their priority targeting on the ranged enemies, that would mean leaving the Legionnaires to buff their troops and organize their attacks. Of course, if they didn't continue targeting the Archers and Magi, they would have to deal with the deadly rain of arrows and magic attacks that followed.

As much as Garath wanted to remain in his human form and call strategy from behind their defensive line, it just wasn't in the cards. The Band needed to continue their priority targeting of the ranged enemies and take out the Legionnaires as quickly as possible. Garath made his decision, shimmering and shrinking into his House Cat form as he projected his thoughts to reach the entire Raid.

*Yes. Target the Magi, then Archers just like the last wave. Mark your targets and call it if you need help,* he said. The transformation complete, Garath couldn't help recognizing a not-so-subtle change in his thinking, his lust for Experience Points slightly clouding his judgement. Recognizing the shift in mentality didn't change a damn thing for him though and he took off at a sprint toward the nearest enemy commander.  *I'm on the Legionnaires.*

"What, all of them?" asked Fergus incredulously as he single handedly pushed the line of undead back with a few wide sweeps of his mace.

Garath didn't answer. He was already behind enemy lines, dodging and weaving unnoticed between bony legs as they shambled toward the stronghold. From his height of about eight inches, Garath felt like Eren Yeager surrounded by an army of titans, their stomping march shaking the ground below him like a vibrator plugged into a car battery. The towering forms all around him and the constant need to scamper away from skeletal feet pounding down from every direction made him lose his intended direction for a moment and he began to panic, lost behind enemy lines only seconds after he told his group he would take care of the biggest threat they currently faced. He kept moving, dodging and scurrying toward where he hoped the enemy commander was. Before he knew it, the fluffy white Necrologist nearly ran head first into the plated boot of the Undead Legionnaire.

If the enemy commander looked large from 20 meters away and in his own natural form, the behemoth standing before Garath now could only be described as titanic. Garath had to crane his neck to look up at his target from eight inches off the ground. He was confused to find the Legionnaire still stationary. As far as he could tell, the thing hadn’t taken a step from where it spawned moments before. Instead, the towering Legionnaire seemed to be directing the lesser, mindless undead with hand motions and unnerving clicking sounds. The Necrologist wondered if he had made a mistake in choosing to attack the Legionnaires directly, it wasn’t even attacking the stronghold. He briefly considered high tailing it back to the relative safety behind the melee fighters, but that was before the Legionnaire activated its most devastating Ability.

With a roar that seemed to erupt directly out of the enemy commander’s helmet, every undead minion in the area - even those outside the apparent aggro range - turned and marched directly to where Garath was standing at the Legionnaire’s feet.

‘Yep,’ Garath thought, nodding in agreement with himself. ‘This bitch needs to die.’

Dark purple energy shot out in every direction, infecting the Legionnaire and over a dozen other undead with the damage over time debuff of Blight. After purchasing Mastery: Pestilent, Garath knew that the base damage of Blight had gone up by 20% - between that and his recently increased Wisdom, Blight would theoretically inflict 76 damage on each affected creature over the next 15 seconds. The red Health bar above the Legionnaire’s head showed 155/155 when Garath’s DoT took hold, and even if the enemy commander took the full 76 points of damage over 15 seconds, a single Blight wouldn’t bring it down. If Garath could manage to stay alive, and in the area for 30 seconds when the cooldown for his AoE DoT elapsed, he could cast another Blight and the fight was his. But then, he did just engage over a dozen undead - they all turned on him, and then attacked.

A notched scimitar came slashing down from the swing of a Level 13 Fetid Ghoul and Garath avoided it, stepping quickly out of the way and bounding between the legs of his attacker. An arrow ricocheted off the asphalt only an inch from his paw and he took another sharp turn back in the direction of the Legionnaire. Sword strike after sword strike and arrow after arrow rained down on the tiny Necrologist and his Stamina bar was draining faster than a bottle of Jack after an AA meeting as he attempted to avoid becoming a G-kabob.

He scampered around the back side of the Legionnaire and launched himself up and into the air with every ounce of