Chương 44: The Horror - 4

Although outer space was beautiful, it was boring, too. Really boring, in fact. WARHOL was tempted to nod off to his mind palace and pass the time in his study. He couldn't, of course, since he never knew when the Horror might attack him or how it might attack him, in fact, so he had to keep himself aware at all times.

He was over half-way out of the Horror's expanse when he noticed a notification he hadn't received in a long time: [You Have Killed Cosmic Horror: Lesser Tentacle: Lesser Polup: You Have Gained XP] [You Have Reached Level...] [Boon Points Earned: 10] [Unallocated Boon Points: 10] Warhol stared dumbly at the little box. It had been at least a decade since the last time he had received a level up. Had he simply been close to getting a level up? Or had that tiny bit of the Horror he destroyed been worth so much?

Unfortunately, he hadn't the ability to check and see. If he wanted to know, he would need to return another time and fight the Horror on its own turf. And, yeah, he wasn't doing that any time soon. Not that it was a bad idea. Bold, sure, but bad? Where else would he gain such XP?

Maybe, just maybe, deep within the Oldest Complex, but that was the thing, getting there would take an eternity, which meant he had a lot of wasted time he couldn't explain away, not if fighting the Horror in space could net him XP in sums unlike ever before experienced by a Deity Champion. Switching gears, he had unallocated Boon Points for the first time since... forever. Tempted though he was to dump the points into his Magical Prowess or Stamina, he resisted the urge. Instead, he kept the point unallocated.

There were some mighty expensive but powerful Boons he had yet to purchase and if this Horror was going to be the source of his renewal as a System Champion, he wanted to hoard as many points as possible in preparation for those big Boons he wanted to buy. He was going to think more deeply about these matters when his visor blared a warning to him: "Warning! Warning! Incoming Hostiles!" Enemies? In space?! The only thing it could be was the Horror's minions.

'Swarm Goblins,' they were called. Ugly little buggers with wings, they had claws and mangled jagged teeth and were always looking for a meal. They lived within the massive tentacles of the Cosmic Horror in great colonies tens-of-millions strong. How many of the things were heading his way, he didn't know, but he had to be prepared to give it his all. Warhol recast, for the umpteenth time, his basic battle incantations: [Reinforce: Self], [Reinforce: Skin Armor], as well as [Barrier] and [Reinforce: Barrier].

He would recast [Indomitability] but wanted to play it safe on mana usage since his previous incant remained active. Next, he incanted [Expand Range], that, with [Clear Vision: Cosmic Vision] would enable him to see the Swarm Goblins a lot better, like birds on a clear day. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Buffed up with the help of his incantations, he saw what he was working against — yes, a swarm of Goblins. Hundreds, minimum.

Considering the size of the Swarm in totality, he got lucky. Many times that number could've been called against him. A number so big, it could end him. He let the Swarm Goblins get as close to him as he dared. The hugeness of space made area effect spells the only practical way of fighting. Yet area effect spells also took an immense sum more mana than individual effect skills.

Which meant, if he wanted to incant a spell strong enough to effect every one of the hundreds of Swarm Goblins, he would need to push himself. Which he did by filling his hands with electro-mana and forming a large cradle of energy. As he formed his electro-ball between his hands, the Swarm Goblins attacked!

One after another, dozens to a group, lunged at him and clawed him, they bite him, most even snarled at him; yet all of their attacks were pushed back by his protective incantations, which allowed him to focus on finishing his area effect spell; once the Goblins had bitten him as many times as mosquitos during the average backyard cookout, he brought the electro-ball over his head and unleashed it; streaks of lightning shot out in every direction and skewered the Swarm Goblins wherever they flew, killing them instantly and rendering them a new form as inert space debris.

His body finally stopped suffering bite after claw. Peace again restored, he renewed his [Acceleration] incantation just as his System notified him of [Low Mana]. Warhol stared at the notification with the reverse awe he had when he had leveled up.

'Low Mana'? He tried to think back to the last time when he had seen such a notification... before he had received the Modification Tool from the Trickster God, surely. But low mana... that wasn't good, especially when he was out in the dead void of space, and help was thousands of miles away. It was challenging, but he survived. First, Warhol deactivated his protection incants so as to return the mana to his body.

Second, he invested his restored mana into [Acceleration] glyphs so he could faster escape from the hell that was a Cosmic Horror's occupied territory. And thirdly, he prayed — prayed that no more swarms of goblins, or worse creatures, would assail him and he wouldn't have to push himself to the brink. Smaller groups of goblins did besiege him during the remainder of his flight to friendly space. The goblins, though, only came at him in ones and twos.

Numbers small enough to enable him to end their attacks before they sunk their claws into his supple skin. All the same, using magic in intervals of minutes to slay goblins throughout the duration of his flight took a toll of the remainder of his mana. So much so, that the System gave him a final notification: [Mana Use Critically Low: Less Than 5% Remaining]. That last notification sent a chill down to his heart.

He wasn't sure he had ever received that notification before, even when he had been but a lowly initiate. Back then, he had always been extremely circumspect in his mana usage. Seeing it now, with sentient darkness all around, was a frightening sight. But after a couple hours of super-powered rocketing through the ever-shadowed expanse of a space demon, him dodging or killing goblins all the while, he hit that borderline.

He shot from the 'advanced' darkness of a Cosmic Horror's engulfing of spacetime and entered 'normal' space, which, somehow, had a lot more, and brighter 'starlight' than what one saw on the inside of a Horror. Of course, the Swarm Goblins followed him, but Signet, his best buddy in this part of the solar system, had his back and unleashed a volley of missiles. the projectiles exploded the swarm and emitted a vast cloud of death which protected his retreat into the shuttle as well as the shuttle itself.

Safe inside the shuttle, Warhol removed his helmet and breathed in deep of the non-recycled air, his body finally untensing from no longer having to keep up his warming incantations.

"Take us out of here," he told Signet.

"I need to recover; that Horror is no joke!" Signet smiled.

"Anyone who told you it was a joke made for a poor comedian."

"Yeah. Me, as usual." He laughed then lost consciousness. Or slept. Hours later, he woke and had new problems to contend with. Signet stared at him as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and said, "Now, Warhol, about that artifact..."