With crimson pooling on the porch, David’s corpse lay near the kobolds’ feet. Chest ripped open with clawed marks, heart missing. Face in a perpetual pained expression.
With cruelty burning in their eyes, the kobolds turned toward the door. Snarling, they closed in, clawing at it, eager to claim the lives of the humans who had betrayed the one they had just killed.
‘How could a normal wooden door hold up against the might of kobold claws?’ they thought.
Yet, the door held surprisingly well.
Their claws were sharp and vicious, but they failed to pierce the thick three-inch wood without the ability to coat them in mana or empower their strikes with skills.
Growing frustrated, they began slamming their bodies against it, trying to break the hinges apart… only to find the humans had braced the door with whatever human-made furniture they could find. Once again, their effort led to nothing but failure.
A moment of quiet followed, causing James and Paul to exhale a shaky breath of relief. Kobolds had finally stopped their assault on the entrance. They seemed to have given up.
A puddle of vomit stained Paul’s clothes and spread across the floor beside him.
Unbeknownst to them, while the kobolds may have given up on the door, their claws were already digging into the house’s walls, climbing steadily in search of another way inside.
…
Peter hugged the shivering, crying form of his mother, doing whatever he could to calm her down. He stroked her back while offering comforting words. Somehow, they had made it back to Aunt Amelia’s house again after everything went bad.
In the end, Mariah just couldn’t handle it. The pressure, the death, the sheer despair of watching so many of her close friends die so brutally. She collapsed when it all caught up to her.
Peter would’ve been a crying mess too, if not for his defensive skills. Eternal Ward was a constant bastion of defence, not just against physical attacks, but mental and spiritual weaknesses too.
Spirit of Fortitude resisted any fear or despair that managed to slip past that bastion. And with Undying Vitality constantly nourishing his mind and soul along with his body, Peter was in far better shape than he had any right to be.
With no news of Joseph, and most of the villagers either already dead or soon to be, Mariah had dragged Peter back inside the house when everyone agreed to split up, hoping it would decrease their chances of being found by the kobolds.
Now, with no one left to stop them, the kobolds roamed freely, slowly hunting down the villagers in their homes. Peter didn’t know what to do. But he knew one thing… he wasn’t going to just sit back and wait for them to come for him and his mother.
Peter tried to get up, but Mariah held him tight.
“Don’t go. Please don’t go. They’ll kill you too,” she said, clutching him against her chest. Her face was a crying mess. Peter sighed softly, gently easing himself out of her embrace.
“I’ll be fine, Mother. Trust me,” he said, his voice calm. “If I don’t deal with them first, they’ll come here… and then I won’t be able to guarantee your safety.” He reached up, brushing her tear-streaked cheeks with his thumb, a gentle smile on his face.
“There’s no news of Father... and both of you mean the world to me. I can’t afford to risk your safety, not under any circumstances.” He hugged her close.
She sat on the floor, and he remained standing, holding her as she trembled in his arms. He stayed like that for a while, patiently waiting for her to calm down, stroking her head softly.
“He’s likely dead too... just... just like everyone else,” she whispered, her voice breaking. Peter didn’t interrupt. He just listened.
“Otherwise... he would have been here. He... he wouldn’t abandon us like this,” she continued, sobbing, her fingers tightening around his sleeve. Peter’s eyes softened.
“Then that’s all the more reason for me to make sure no harm comes to you,” he said quietly. “I may have already lost my father. I cannot, and will not, lose my mother too.”
Even as he spoke, his Mana Sense flared. Two kobolds…, slowly making their way up the stairs toward the first floor.
He gently pulled away from her. “Stay here,” he told her, his voice steady, his resolve unshakable. “I promise - no harm will come to you. …And nothing will harm me.”
With a final, reassuring smile, Peter turned his back to her and walked toward the door, sword in hand. His expression was almost peaceful.
….
Peter quietly closed the door behind him, leaving his mother in relative safety, still within the watchful reach of his Mana Sense. The only path to her now lay through him.
He turned toward the kobolds, his once-peaceful expression slowly warping, twisting into something utterly ferocious. Every combat skill he possessed stirred in response, syncing perfectly with his emotions, sharpening his intent like a blade.
The two kobolds approached with glee, seeing no reason to fear a mere child, even if he carried a sword. The distance between them shrank as both sides walked steadily, calmly.
Soon, they were only half a meter apart.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
The kobolds lunged with claws outstretched, jaws snapping toward Peter’s face. Unfortunately for them... Peter was faster. Like a blur, he slipped past them, his sword following a clean, deadly trajectory across their necks with stone-cold precision.
Without even sparing them a glance, Peter continued walking, heading straight for the stairs. Behind him, two heads tumbled to the floor. Their bodies collapsing soon after, blood gushing from their necks like fountains.
A soft ping echoed in Peter’s mind as a system notification flashed before his eyes.



You have killed a level 18 Kobold. 360 experience gained in the class. You have killed a level 16 Kobold. 340 experience gained in the class. You have levelled up. x2Your level is now 4. You need 300/500 experience points to gain the next level.



 
Setting the system messages aside for now, Peter swiftly made his way down the stairs, his steps light yet purposeful. His body was empowered fully by a bunch of his skills to the maximum capacity.
Reaching the ground floor, his eyes immediately locked onto the shattered main door, its wooden frame broken and discarded on the floor. Three kobolds stood just outside the entrance.
Peter didn’t hesitate. Mana surged from the pool deep within his soul, flooding into his limbs with singular purpose… to make him faster, stronger, and more durable.
He might not possess a proper reinforcement skill, but with Weapon Mastery and Mana Manipulation working in perfect tandem, he wasn’t lacking in guidance when it came to empowering his body.
At first glance, Weapon Mastery might seem unsuited for that, but the body itself was a weapon, and the skill treated it as such. Peter’s raw stats might have been lower than the kobolds', but the sheer volume of mana he was utilising was enough to tip the scales in his favour.
It was wasteful. It was harmful, but so be it. His mind was set on delivering justice and protecting his mother. He didn’t question the instructions flowing through him and didn’t hesitate to wonder why.
His body simply moved, expertly guided by his skills. He sprinted toward them, like an afterimage, even as the kobolds barely managed to turn in his direction.
His sword lashed out, slicing through the nearest kobold’s torso with terrifying ease, cleaving its body into two uneven halves before it could even snarl at him. That half-snarl twisted, turning into a weeping, dog-like scream as its body fell apart.
The remaining two kobolds froze, hesitating. They hadn't attacked yet. Maybe they were too shocked by what they had just witnessed.Maybe it was something else entirely… something Peter didn’t know, didn’t care to know. This was his territory. His home.
His skills rejoiced within him, their presence humming in approval, as he stepped further out of the house, closing the distance to the remaining kobolds.
Finally, they attacked. Twin claws lashed out, aiming straight for his chest and stomach, while a tail moved like a whip on his hips.
Peter didn’t flinch. His thoughts focused on attacking as he took the hits. His skills demanded his trust, and he gave it to them without hesitation. Eternal Ward flared to life, ever present as a faint, invisible barrier coating all of his body. The kobold’s claws struck him, only to harmlessly glance off, failing to even leave a scratch.
He drew his sword back at an angle, guided not by conscious thought, but by instinct, by skill, and drove it clean through the heart of the nearest kobold.
Now face-to-face with the dog-faced creature, Peter met its wide, terrified eyes. And slowly, deliberately, he twisted the blade embedded in its chest, taking joy in its pain. Some comfort to his sheer anger as the creature shuddered in agony…its death inevitable.
Within moments, it collapsed lifelessly on the porch. Peter’s attention snapped to the last remaining kobold, the only other humanoid monster left within arm’s reach. It stumbled back, retreating two steps with fear clear in its every movement.
Then, it did something that made Peter curse aloud.
It howled, calling its brethren. A vertical cut, spanning from the upper left of its shoulder to its right hip, silenced the howl halfway, but the damage was already done.
Peter spared a glance at the sky, noticing the deep darkness of night had retreated just a little, signalling the approach of dawn. Yet the clamour of the nightmare that had fallen upon his village still rang in his ears.
Peter retreated into the house, already sensing a dozen kobolds approaching through his Mana Sense. He couldn’t face them all at once, so he opted to use the hallway to limit their numbers. It was narrow, with barely enough space for two people to walk side by side, giving him plenty of breathing room.
Before he could dwell on it further, the first wave of kobolds reached the doorstep, and Peter was more than ready to welcome them to the gates of hell.
He stood firm, watching as they were forced to funnel themselves into lines of two in the confined space, charging straight at him. His skills whispered to him, showing him the way to kill each one with a single, precise blow. He only had to follow their will… execute each step perfectly.
They were demanding. Rebellious. But Peter had grown over the years. Unlike the first time he had fallen into the skill-high, his will now stood stronger. Tougher.
He allowed… not followed their advice, putting the knowledge and suggestions they provided into practice in a deadly sword dance against the kobolds. And even when he made a mistake, his defensive skills were there, shielding him from harm. Rinse and repeat. Kill after kill.
Under the cover of darkness, within the confined space of the hallway, Peter moved among his enemies like a spectre. His steps were light and measured, his breathing controlled. He quickly determined the optimal order of attack, minimising the interval between each kill.
In the rush of battle, Peter found himself calm. Focused. It felt as though he had finally found his natural element.
Back in his old world, he had struggled to kill even a house rat, but here, in this moment, he had no hesitation in taking the life of a creature that could probably think on the level of a six-year-old human child.
As more and more looming silhouettes of the kobold army gathered around, drawn in by the commotion, he slowed down, circling his next target.
The monster didn’t stay still. It pounced to bite his ear off, but failed. Canines failing to break the protection of his Ward. Any discomfort or pain Peter might have felt from it was pushed away by the Spirit of Fortitude.
His blade was already moving through the air, its steel dark blue from the mana surging within. A moment later, it plunged into the weak point on the kobold’s back, piercing through its scaly skin and destroying its heart and spine.
Peter felt a surge of triumph rise within him at how effortlessly he was thinning their numbers, but he quickly suppressed it. This wasn’t the time to celebrate. For every enemy he killed, more were already coming.
Still, he trusted in Undying Vitality. It would allow him to fight nonstop, without fatigue, for as long as it took to kill every last one of these monsters. They weren’t capable of doing him enough harm that couldn’t be healed, so long as his vital points remained safe.
The heart and brain - those were the true weak points. A strike to either would cause him to lose ten thousand health points per second until fully healed. But Peter was confident. He could protect them with Eternal Ward and with precise use of parrying and guarding with his sword.
His safety wasn’t what worried him. It was his mother.
Even as he killed them, their growing numbers were beginning to force him back, shoving past one another, driving him further into the house. Soon, they would push him far enough that they could ignore him entirely and rush the stairs to reach Mariah if they found out about her presence.
He must do something about it.