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

brought his large sword down on Alex, but the movement was far too slow for the heightened senses of the berserker. He ducked, as much to avoid a slash from the nearby elf’s swords as to strike the back of the goliath’s knees.

The hit made the tall humanoid tremble with the difficulty of holding his large body upright. However, pain was not an obstacle once he had hit level 0. The sword dancer had halted his attacks to mutter an incantation. His Leech Life Force skill tugged at Alex’s open wounds, sucking his power along with his blood, which coalesced on a single point in the air in front of him before traveling back to the caster. The elf managed to heal a couple of his wounds with the spell but ultimately, it made no difference. Alex had already driven both Alpha and Omega through the eyeholes of the goliath’s helmet, riding on his chest as the tall humanoid fell onto the bloody sand of the pit.

A cloud of dust rose as the titanic body hit the ground and Alex stepped off of it, twirling his blades menacingly. Nobody in their right mind would charge at him after seeing that. But the elf wasn’t in his right mind. He didn’t have a mind of his own at all.

Alex deflected, spun around and parried. The sword dancer might have been a wonderful fighter, but he was no match for his opponent. Not in this state. The next stun proved to be lethal for him. Alex stepped behind him and drove his sword from the lower back up to his heart, before kicking the body forward to slide it off the end of his sword.

The crowds seemed to be split between those who were ecstatic with the show they’d just watched and those who felt cheated out of their money. This was supposed to be the main event of the fighting day but there was too little blood for them, too fast a fight. That was the error of people watching fights for sport without actually ever having been in one. They couldn’t comprehend how quickly people got killed.

“You want more, you motherfuckers?” Alex shouted, sweat, blood, and red froth flying from his mouth. “Bring me something to kill.”

This looked like it swayed a few of the displeased onlookers. But this wasn’t Alex’s intention. He hadn’t had his fill yet. He focused his eyes on an orc in the audience seats closest to the arena floor. The man was shouting foul words at him, spitting pieces of roasted meat out as he did so.

Alex focused on him and grinned a sick smile. He put one leg in front of the other and charged toward the high wall of the pit. Aiming his hands and feet for small recesses that were almost invisible to the naked eye, he launched himself up and grabbed the edge of the balcony that separated the spectators from the sport. The people in that part of the stadium started to move back up on the seats behind them as Alex picked himself up. A few spellcasters in the audience tried to throw sleep and confusion spells at him but of course none of them had any effect. How could a spell meant to manipulate the mind have any effect on a spirit as perverted and ravenous as his? But as he sprung up to attack the orc, a semi-translucent wall appeared and blocked his advance, pushing him back.

He did not like it one bit. Like a feral animal with its leg caught in a trap, he reacted violently. He rushed forward with even more force. This time, however, the wall almost exploded when he touched it, throwing him back down into the pit.

“You want more death?” Alex said as he lay on the sand, ready to collapse. “I will be your death…”

Alex opened his eyes, feeling the all familiar after-pain of his rage. The dark sky was full of red clouds above him. He was still at the ludus outside the nine hells. He tried hoisting himself up and felt the pain of the hundreds of wounds he had suffered. His HP bar was more than halfway full, meaning he was out of danger, but not recovered enough to spare him from pain.

The fire was crackling loudly and whispers of “he’s up” and “the berserker has awakened” could be heard among the silent shuffle of people moving. It didn’t take too long before a set of heavy footsteps approached his low straw bed.

“You did it, you crazy bastard,” Yalfrigg said, smiling widely. “You killed them all and you gave them a show they’ll be talking about for many tendays to come.”

“The swords,” Alex muttered, not caring one bit about how he had performed in the eyes of the dominus and his bloodthirsty tourists.

“They’re yours to keep,” the dwarf replied. “They’re being repaired. Can’t have you go out and break them next time, can we?”

“Next time…” Alex said between his teeth, preferring not to think about the next time. Not at that moment. He was just content to have guaranteed himself strong weapons for his future fights.

“Thank you, lad,” the doctore whispered in Alex’s ear. “At last, he can find peace.”

Before the dwarf was able to backtrack, Alex caught him by the vest of his jacket and pulled him closer.

“Before the end,” Alex whispered ever so quietly, “he spoke to me.”

The dwarf now was hanging on his word, eyes wide open.

“He wanted you to know that he forgave you,” Alex said.

Yalfrigg pressed his lips together tightly, clearly trying to hold back his tears for the brother who’d been set free at last.

It was a lie of course, but it was one that would never see the light of day. One that the dwarf needed to hear. A sweet lie that Alex wished someone had told him before he had become miserable and toxic.

Once the doctore had left his bedside, a host of slaves gathered around Alex’s makeshift