Berserker: A LitRPG Urban Fantasy Adventure (Apocosmos Book 1) by Dimitrios Gkirgkiris (phonics readers .txt) 📕

he was watching and jumped onto the couch with me. He lay on my side, turning his fluffy butt to my face.

“Excuse me?” I said, looking at him puzzled.

“What?” he asked, slightly turning his head to face me, ears pricked up. “You used to like it when I slept next to you.”

“I…” I stuttered. “I did. I mean, I do. But you always slept by the door.”

His ears fell back before he let his head drop to the side again.

“That’s because I didn’t know,” he said softly. “I can’t make up for all those nights, but you won’t sleep by yourself again.”

My nostrils flared and I pressed my lips together trying to hold back my emotions. Perhaps his newfound intellect was as much a gift as it was a curse.

I laid my hand on him and a few short breaths later, we were both fast asleep.

Incense & Iron

Interlude I

“I had no idea how quickly things would turn south,” Alexander, the scarred behemoth of a man, said as the wind became stronger around the slave encampment, lifting embers high in the night sky.

A loud scream followed by metals clashing was heard from one of the bonfires north of the conspirators. Yalfrigg immediately moved his right hand behind his back, making sure that his gigantic faintly glowing sword was in its place.

“Neleth,” the dominus commanded. “Go check what’s wrong.”

The elf clicked his tongue in disapproval but stood up all the same. The muscular dwarf didn’t seem like someone who would keep grudges related to insubordination, which meant he was sending the elf because he would be able to get there more easily than the others. Or so thought Alexander, who glanced at the elf before he moved away.

Name : Neleth Ienemiah

Race : Light Elf

Class : Shadow Strider

Level : 38

HP : 942/1029

MP : 603/641

XP : 97.54%

STR : 41

DEX : 36

CON : 28

INT : 25

WIS : 12

MEN : 26

A shadow strider. A sneaky fighter indeed. However, no matter how sneaky he was, there was an absolute rule of stats transparency in the ludus and he was no exception. Alexander focused his eyes on the stats window, absorbing more of the available information about the elf.

Battle Stats

Max HP : 1029

Max MP : 641

Physical Attack : 158

Physical Defense : 223

Accuracy : 70

Critical : 139

Attack Speed : 502

Magic Attack : 67

Magic Defense : 259

Evasion : 76

Speed : 148

Casting Speed : 226

HP Regen. : 7.3/minute

MP Regen. : 3.2/minute

His stats were not that impressive, but more often than not it was the skills that mattered. And this rogue had a few aces up his sleeve. The elf’s leather clothes produced only the faintest of sounds with each movement as he walked away until they suddenly ceased altogether, no doubt a skill specific to his class.

Alexander didn’t stand up. Neither did he remove his swords from their ornate scabbards, for nobody would get the advantage on him simply because his swords were sheathed. Instead, much to the dismay of the doctore, he continued staring at the fire, uninterested in what was taking place.

“Prepare yourself, human,” Yalfrigg snapped at him as an unnatural silence spread around them. “We may be under attack.”

“As if someone would try to conquer this gods-forsaken place,” Alexander replied.

“I’m not talking about people,” the dwarf growled, but soon let the matter go as the elf reappeared between the shadows cast by the tents and the barracks. “What do you know, elf?”

“A human,” the shadow strider said and glanced at Alexander. “He lost it. He started shouting and attacking people.

“Why?” the dwarf asked.

“His husband died in the arena today and they didn’t bring him back.”

“Did they subdue him?”

“They didn’t have to,” Neleth replied and sat on the ground. “He sliced his own wrist.”

“Then get the fuck up and call the healer!” Yalfrigg exclaimed.

“Why?” Neleth retorted. “He chose it. Let the poor fucker rest.”

The doctore took a step forward and kicked the elf’s ankle, bringing him to the ground, face-first, and then proceeded to go down on one knee and speak in his ear.

“No one…” he said slowly. “No one dies unless I say so. I need everyone alive and getting stronger. So get the fuck up and call the healer before I bend your knees the wrong way.”

The person who’d been talking about unity and rebellion only a moment ago had now disappeared. In their stead was someone with the cruel characteristics of a monarch commanding everyone’s attention. Alexander, who now stood up along with everyone else around the bonfire, looked at the furious dwarf with the enchanted greatsword on his back.

Name : Yalfrigg Asulf

Race : Dwarf

Class : Ulfhednar

Level : 53

HP : 5716/5716

MP : 817/817

XP : 43.52%

STR : 39

DEX : 20

CON : 54

INT : 18

WIS : 12

MEN : 27

At that moment, Alexander realized that forcing every slave to show their battle stats didn’t only serve as a precaution against uprisings. It also made the hierarchy among them crystal clear. Yalfrigg looked like a monster among men and his level was testament to it. The only thing he could glean from this information was that the dwarf had already upgraded his class for the second time and that he was a believer of Odin. A deeper probe was needed to understand more about their doctore’s fighting style.

Battle Stats

Max HP : 5716

Max MP : 817

Physical Attack : 543

Physical Defense : 695

Accuracy : 82

Critical : 80

Attack Speed : 328

Magic Attack : 133

Magic Defense : 524

Evasion : 79

Speed : 118

Casting Speed : 226

HP Regen. : 25.6/minute

MP Regen. : 4.9/minute

His HP pool was massive and his attack was high enough to classify him as a tank, though his defense could have been higher. Alexander didn’t know much about greatswords but this one definitely looked like it was close to top B grade and its faint white glow meant it was probably enchanted to +4 or +5. The long and thick blade was engraved with runes and a wolf’s head made of stone adorned the pommel at the end of its leather-bound grip. The dwarf’s armor and jewelry did not glow at all, but this only meant that they were not enchanted more than +4, which