Chapter 14: The Convergence of the Horde.
As Jacob continued his relentless march downward, he made absolutely certain to bolster the ranks of his growing army with every step he took through the bloodied corridors.
The silence of the building was now filled with the eerie rattling of bones and the faint sound of a chilling wind, a sound that would have terrified him only hours ago but now brought him a grim sense of security.
After successfully securing the fifth floor, he didn't pause to celebrate his victory; instead, he pushed forward with a single goal in mind.
Slowly yet surely conquering the fourth, third, and second floors in rapid succession. The resistance on these levels varied, but none of the scattered goblin patrols could stand against the sheer numerical advantage and single minded coordination of his forces.
By the time he had finished purging the second floor of its green-skinned invaders, the number of minions under his direct command had risen to an astonishing and formidable one hundred and sixty-one.
This dark battalion was comprised of exactly eighty skeleton soldiers, their ivory frames now heavily stained with dried blood, and eighty resentful spirits that drifted through the air, chilling the area around them.
Standing at the center of this macabre gathering was his most potent creation, the lesser ghoul woman, who remained his primary guardian and the most physically capable of all his servants.
During the descent, Jacob couldn't help but notice a series of subtle yet significant changes beginning to manifest within his long-standing forces.
A few of the skeletons and spirits that had been with him since the upper floors seemed to have developed a tangible killing aura that shimmered faintly around their forms, a dark pressure that made the very air feel heavy in their presence.
It was clear to his gamer-trained eyes that these particular minions were not far from their own individual evolutions, having absorbed enough essence and experience from the constant slaughter to transcend their basic forms.
However, even with this progress, he could tell that the gap between these veteran skeletons and the lesser ghoul was still immense, like comparing a foot soldier to a seasoned knight.
Of course, the most anticipated and fascinating change of all was occurring within the lesser ghoul herself.
After she had devoured such a staggering number of goblin corpses across multiple floors, her movements had begun to shed their initial, jerky rigidity, becoming increasingly fluid and eerily similar to those of a living human athlete.
As Jacob watched her stand guard, he felt a strange, nagging sensation that he could detect a faint hint of clarity returning to her clouded, death-veiled eyes.
It was a fleeting impression of awareness, as if a consciousness was slowly stitching itself back together within her, as for whether it was her from her life before death or something new entirely, he had no idea.
He remained quite unsure if he was simply projecting his hopes onto her, but the feeling persisted nonetheless, adding a layer of complexity to his relationship with the undead woman.
Despite the uncertainty of her developing mind, he was profoundly happy with everything he had achieved so far, a sentiment that seemed to be shared by his viewers as well.
[Vlad the Impaler is deeply satisfied with the rapid progress of your conquest.]
[Jack the Ripper stares at you with a look of genuine fondness and dark pride.]
"Hehehe, I'm truly honored that the both of you treat me so well," Jacob said with a light, genuine chuckle, offering a polite and respectful bow toward the two shimmering notifications that hovered in the air before him.
He knew that their favor was a fickle thing, but as long as he remained entertaining and efficient, their support was the greatest asset he possessed in this nightmare world.
After straightening up, he began to slowly stroke his chin as a deeply contemplative and calculating look emerged on his face.
Unlike what an impulsive person might do with such a massive force at their back, Jacob didn't immediately order a reckless charge toward the ground floor; instead, he became even more cautious as the final confrontation drew near.
All of his years spent mastering complex RPGs and survival games had taught him one fundamental truth, the final floor was almost certainly the boss's domain, the ultimate destination of this seemingly fabricated test that the system had thrust him into.
"Knowing how these goblin hierarchies typically function, the leader down there is likely either a Goblin Shaman or a Hobgoblin," he spoke subtly to the empty hallway, a sharp glint in his eyes. "Neither of which I am willing to underestimate, even with eighty skeletons at my back."
He knew that Goblin Shamans were notorious for their magical capabilities and their often-disturbing power over curses, possessing a cunning intellect that could sometimes surpass that of an average human.
On the other hand, a Hobgoblin was a different kind of threat; while they were also cunning, they were specialized fighters with muscular physiques and a natural leadership ability that allowed them to exert iron-fisted control over the lesser, more chaotic members of their species.
Facing both at once would be a nightmare, and facing even one required a solid plan.
He stole a brief, lingering glance at the lesser ghoul, noticing how her posture had perfected itself. 'If only she had managed to finish evolving before we reached this point, I'd have a much better chance of securing a clean victory,' he thought to himself with a small, inward pang of regret. He let out a quiet sigh, adjusting the grip on his kitchen knives.
"Sigh... I guess it can't be helped. We move with what we have."
********
Down on the ground floor, the environment shifted dramatically from the cramped, apartment-lined corridors of the upper levels.
This was the building's main lobby, a large, open area designed with high ceilings and wide glass windows that were now smeared with grime and blood that hindered ones vision of the outside world.
In this expansive space, the presence of goblins was overwhelming, with a standing army that easily surpassed thirty in number.
These were not the scrawny, disorganized scouts from the upper floors; these goblins were well-equipped with an assortment of weapons, ranging from heavy wooden clubs and lengths of steel pipe to sharp kitchen knives and even a few jagged pieces of rebar.
However, it was the center-most area of the lobby that truly demanded attention, where four distinct things stood out from the rest of the green-skinned rabble.
Three of these were exactly what Jacob had feared he would encounter. There were two Hobgoblins standing as sentinels, each reaching the height of a grown human male but possessing far more muscular, broad-shouldered physiques.
Their skin was a vibrant, tough-looking shade of orange, and their fierce, yellow eyes scanned the room with a ruthless gaze.
Between them sat a Goblin Shaman, its withered form adorned with grotesque bone ornaments, colorful feathers, and cured skin pelts.
It clutched a strange, twisted staff composed entirely of interlocking bones, which pulsed with a faint, sickly green light.
As for the fourth thing that stood out the most in the lobby, it was a sight that made the air in the room feel even colder.
Tucked away in a corner near the reception desk was a group of terrified, tied-up women whose clothes had long since been torn to shreds by their captors, with visible scars, brusies and rough markings all over over their bodies, suggesting that they had been tortured and done with by the goblins.
Knowing goblins, they were a annoying race, besides their wicked nature and cunning, the main reason others found them annoying was because of their breeding tendancies to impregnate females from other races to bolster their own number's, there by allowing them to rapidly multiply before one knew it. Moreover, unlike normal conventions, all captured females had a tendancy of giving birth far quicker when impregnated by a goblin, which was also a trait of their race.
These captives numbered at least twenty, spanning various ages, their eyes wide with a hollow, soul-crushing despair as they watched the monsters that had engrained themselves into their very souls. Deep within, their hearts brimmed with lingering resentment, yet their fear overwhelmed such feelings.
Right now, The lobby was no longer a place of welcome; but had been transformed into a throne room for monsters and a slaughterhouse for the living, setting the stage for the final battle of the apartment complex.