Strength Based Wizard

Chapter 24

After Hours at Graveyard Castle, Part III (Putting in Work)

I don’t even need to give them the order. Lefty and Righty know what’s up.

The spectral fists, glowing faintly blue in the dim torchlight, surge forward like caffeinated pit bulls at a mailman convention. Bones crack, dust puffs into the air like cheap talcum powder, and femurs snap like twigs beneath a boot.

But there’s too many of them.

It’s like smashing cockroaches in a hoarder’s basement. I take a step back, grabbing Jelly Boy as he starts to jiggle forward as though he’s about to dive into the melee. Nope. Not happening, pal.

“Backpack. Now,” I mutter, shoving him into my bag.

He lets out a disappointed gurgle as I zip it shut. “Stay in there and don’t do anything weird.”

I yank the rusted short sword from my Inventory, the flash of light illuminating a few hollow sockets staring right at me. It’s seen better days, but hey, so have I.

Bones clatter as more skeletons close in. Lefty punches one’s head clean off; Righty follows up by karate chopping another’s ribcage into its spine. They’re earning their keep. Still, the horde’s pressing forward. There’s too many angles. Too many rusted swords and brutal-looking axes closing in.

I grin, feeling clever, and trigger the ability on my cape. A third Wizard’s Hand will absolutely wreck their backline…!

Ding.

A bright red text box slaps me across the face: Item Cooldown Still in Effect. Item will refresh in 16 hours, 41 minutes.

“Shit.”

Yup, I completely forgot about the 24 hour cooldown on my arcane cape. Candy Land seems so long ago… Apparently, not, Joe. You freaking idiot!

I sidestep a wild swing from a skeleton wielding what looks like a femur club.

The horde tightens around me. Lefty and Righty are doing work, but I’m running out of breathing room fast.

“Guess it’s you and me, Rusty,” I mutter, raising the chipped blade.

And then I charge in.

The skeletons grin—at least, I think they do. Hard to tell with no lips.

I lunge at the closest skeleton, rusted sword gripped tight, already tasting victory. I’ve seen enough movies to know how this goes. Skeleton blocks. Our blades lock. I overpower the skeleton, twisting its blade to the side. I then turn it into a pile of bone dust. Easy. Then, I turn my attention to the next skeleton who has patiently been waiting its turn to taste my blade!

Nope.

The skeleton casually sidesteps my wild, clumsy swing like I’m a toddler flailing a pool noodle. I barely have time to process the embarrassment when two more skeletons rush in. No waiting their turn like good little minions. Nope, this is a bar brawl.

Blades flash.

Steel bites into my ribs, thigh, and shoulder. A hatchet lodges into my side, twisting before it’s yanked free. I can’t even keep track of who’s stabbing me anymore. Notifications scream across my vision in rapid-fire succession.

My health bar dives, plummeting from a healthy green, to a ‘less health, but you’re alright’ yellow to deep red. I don’t need the flashing warning icon to know I’m about to die: the wounds on my body aren’t healing quickly at all, and I feel blood pouring from my wounds. I need my HP back up ASAP!

“FUCK!” I roar, panic lending me idiot strength. I lower my shoulder and charge like a linebacker, bowling through brittle ribcages and snapping femurs with raw momentum. Bones explode into splinters as I take one skeleton completely out, sending his skull clattering across the room.

You have defeated Skeleton Warrior, Level 2.

I stagger clear of the fray, gasping for breath, sword slick with marrow-stained dust.

“God damn it!”

You have been inflicted with the Corrosion debuff!

All wounds will now heal 0.25x slower. Your Stamina bar will drain when your Health is not at 100%. This debuff will not heal with time and will require a minor restorative effect.

Holy shit… My Stamina bar starts ticking down, slow but steady. I can already feel the creeping rot gnawing at my muscles. This is not fun! Nothing like the movies!

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Lefty and Righty are still throwing haymakers behind me, but even they can’t punch their way through an entire shift of skeleton guards.

I need a plan. Fast.

The skeletons lunge again, blades flashing like white-hot sparks. I dive to the side, ducking a rusty hatchet and thinking as fast as the adrenaline will let me.

Then it clicks, a plan forming into place in my mind.

I snap a mental command to my Wizard’s Hands: “Don’t punch. Push! Get them packed in as much as possible!”

The spectral hands freeze mid-swing, then pivot, grabbing skeletons by bony shoulders and rib cages and shoving them like the world’s worst game of bumper cars. Bones rattle and clack as they stumble into a tight knot near the center of the room.

“Good boys,” I mutter as I yank a health potion from my Inventory.

I uncork it and slam it down. It tastes like fermented garbage juice, like someone juiced a compost heap and called it a smoothie. I gag, but I can feel my Health bar lurching back to yellow. I don’t stop there. Another potion appears in my hand and I force it down too. My health climbs, but my Stamina bar is still bleeding out fast.

No time to complain. I deposit the sword and draw my wand, flipping through my Inventory until my fingers brush the Spell Scroll from the Candy Land Gate. The scroll appears in my right hand in a flash of pixelated light. I had wanted nothing more than to save this scroll until I learned how to learn the spell permanently. But that was only an option if I was alive along enough to explore the possibility. Now, I faced death by a thousand cuts: a skeletal mob threatening to overwhelm me.

“Now or never,” I growl, popping it open. The unfamiliar symbols ignite as I trigger the spell: Casting - Magnify Gravity.

The scroll crumbles to dust, and the air over the dogpile of skeletons ripples like heat off asphalt. Then—vroom!—one poor bastard is pancaked instantly, bones snapping into dust as the spell squashes him flat. The sphere is only about six feet wide, but it’s catching stragglers too—one skeleton’s arm gets crushed at the elbow, another’s leg pops clean off.

It’s working. But it’s not big enough. My Intelligence stat is too low. I wonder if I can move the sphere.

I focus hard, and to my delighted surprise, the sphere moves! It lurches toward another knot of skeletons. Wherever it goes, bones pop and joints dislocate. Skeletons scramble to get clear, but Lefty and Righty keep shoving them back into the meat grinder.

I duck under a flying axe and sprint around the room, guiding the spell like it’s Pac-Man with a vendetta. Bones dust the floor like snow. Notifications ping like crazy.

Finally, with a final bone-crunching sweep, the spell fizzles out. Only a handful of skeletons remain, and my cantrip hands finish them off with a satisfying series of neck snaps and rib-cracks.

You have defeated Skeleton Warrior, Level 2.

Level 8 increased to Level 9!

I’m panting, knees nearly buckling, but there’s a grin on my face. That was a mess. But damn if it wasn’t fun.

The dust hasn’t even settled from the last skeleton when the big guy shows up, lumbering forward in the corner of my vision.

A hulking brute of bone and bad attitude, maybe seven feet tall, steps out from the shadows like it owns the place. The System throws a window in my face:

New Monster Identified: Skeleton Brute

Level 6.

Classification: Basic Undead

Fantastic. Its arms dangle like sledgehammers, and it doesn't even bother with a weapon. Guess when your fists are the size of cinder blocks, you don't need one.

Lefty and Righty float up, eager, ready to throw down. But before they can even throw a jab—poof!—they vanish into silver dust, dissipating like a bad magic trick.

“…Shit!”

I slam the Wizard’s Hand Spell again, trying to re-summon my fisticuff-happy friends. Nothing happens. The empty MP bar flashes at me in the corner of my vision, taunting me. That’s when I remember… Magnify Gravity spell must’ve bled me dry. Even with the wand, it uses my maximum amount of Mana.

No time to whine about it, though. The Brute charges.

I dive to the side as the skeleton crashes past, fists punching holes into the stone where I was just standing. It turns on me, surprisingly fast for a bone giant, and backhands me like it’s swatting a gnat.

I skid across the floor, pain lighting up my ribs. HP bar dips a chunk, but worse, my Stamina starts hemorrhaging again. Great. That Corrosion debuff is a huge pain in the ass.

I scramble to my feet, duck another swing by inches. Then another damned notification pops up. Absolutely impeccable timing!

[2 Stat Points Currently Unallocated. Assign Stat Points?]

“Now? Are you serious?” I snarl.

Fine. Whatever. I place one point into Strength. Screw it! My Strength is now a whopping 18, but I don’t have time to even celebrate as I dodge another wide swing of the Brute. The swing leaves the gigantic creature off balance, but with its torso exposed.

Fueled by pure spite, I charge the Brute and throw a punch with every ounce of my boosted Strength.

The result? Instant bone confetti. The skeleton explodes, ribcage and skull vaporizing in a violent shockwave of marrow and dust.

Unfortunately, so does my arm.

White-hot agony screams up from my shattered forearm as muscles tear and bones crunch. I drop to my knees, clutching my mangled limb.

You have defeated Skeleton Brute, Level 6.

“Fuck you,” I hiss through clenched teeth, trying not to black out from the pain.

Walter, Skeleton Accountant and Schedule Keeper of the Castle, was in absolute and utter shock at what he just witnessed. He stood motionless, jaw unhinged and hanging at an awkward angle. It took him several moments to even realize it. With a creaking pop, he adjusted his mandible, but it didn’t help the dread pooling in the pit of his nonexistent stomach.

He had just watched an adventurer—an actual, bona fide adventurer—crash through the ceiling like a sack of wet meat, obliterate his second shift skeleton crew, and punch a Brute into boney confetti. The guy’s arm practically liquefied in the process, but still. Walter hadn’t seen anything like it since… when? Centuries ago? Millennia? Time was a blur when you were undead and stuck in the night shift. It had probably been back when he was a fleshy.

Walter rubbed his bony fingers over his smooth forehead. “What an absolute pain in the vertebrae,” he muttered.

He pressed himself deeper into the shadows, trying to ignore the crunch of bone and the squelch of healing flesh as the adventurer—no, this lunatic—summoned potion after potion, chugging them like an addict. Walter winced, watching the man’s body struggle against the combined effects of Corrosion, overexertion, and sheer magical backlash. Rookie mistake. Overclock your power, skimp on Constitution, and boom: you’re a ragdoll with muscles tearing like wet tissue paper.

Walter took a cautious step sideways, but the adventurer’s eyes snapped toward him. Burning blue with magical energy. Hungry. Furious.

Walter froze.

The man staggered forward, clutching his still-mangled arm, and loomed over him. Even in pain, the sheer presence radiating off this guy was suffocating.

Then the adventurer spoke, voice gravelly and dark.

“Do you happen to have a map?”