Mocked at Level 1, I Became the Spear God

Chapter 7: Old Man, Stop That Kid

The yard was louder than ever now, packed with players who couldn't win mobs outside. Nate stood in the middle of it, spear over his shoulder, and thought: this was probably the last time he'd be here. Maybe forever.

He walked toward the gate.

"Young warrior—hold a moment."

A gravelly old voice from behind him. Nate turned. It was the yard's gatekeeper. He'd tried saying hello to the old man before, looking for a quest, and gotten nothing—a mute NPC, as far as he could tell.

He walked over and dipped his head. "Yes, sir? What can I do for you?"

The old man looked him up and down. "Well. Who'd've thought a tiny starter village would grow a boy who pushed the basics to the fifth level. Not bad. Not bad at all. I have a trial here, sonny. You want it?"

*Ding.* **Accept challenge quest?**

**Challenge Quest — Unique.** Hidden. Unlocked by reaching fifth-level mastery of the basics. Objective: slay the Spear Warrior's Phantom. Reward: Unknown.

[Accept.]

Nate accepted fast. This was definitely the fifth-level mastery trigger—his Rare talent was doing the heavy lifting; on his own he'd never have ground here long enough. One minute he was leaving forever, and the next he was walking right back in.

A couple of players near the gate had been watching.

"Did that guy just talk to the old man? The old man never talks."

"No way. A hundred people a day say hi to him, he never moves his lips."

"I swear they were talking. Let's go ask him—"

But by then Nate had already stepped through.

* * *

The world flickered. One blink and the training yard was gone; he was standing at the edge of a lake, mist curling off the water. A stone stairway led out across the surface into the fog.

He followed it. Before long he reached a square stone platform, about ten meters a side, sitting on the water. Three spear-wielding dummies stood on it.

He stepped up.

*Ding. Trial begins. Defeat the dummies. One clean hit on you, and you lose.*

The three dummies charged, spears leading—way faster than the yard versions. Nate wasn't the raw recruit from day one anymore. He swept his spear out, knocked the points aside, spun, drove one dummy flat, and flicked the tip to drop the other two. It was almost too easy.

They collapsed. The mist parted. Another stairway led deeper.

Second platform. Same three dummies. This time he attacked first, thrusting at the lead dummy's face; it raised its spear to deflect, and Nate converted the thrust into a sweep, catching it low and bowling it over. Cocky, he nearly forgot the other two—spears came in from both sides and he had to drop and roll to cheat death.

He reset and finished them. These ones played like his own second-level spear skill. Roughly, each platform cranked the dummies up a level.

Third platform. Sharper still. Still manageable.

By the fifth platform, the three dummies stood at full fifth-level spear mastery, and Nate felt the weight of it. He'd learned from the earlier fights that as long as he stayed off the platform, they wouldn't aggro. It bought him time to plan.

He walked through the attack in his head before he committed: he'd strike, predict their counter, and predict his own counter to that.

Then he stepped on. He ran diagonally toward the left dummy, splitting the three so only one could reach him. The other two needed a step to line up—and that half-second was the whole fight.

He chopped at the left dummy's head. It raised its spear to block, exactly like he expected. He snapped the chop short, drove the butt of the shaft into its chest, and hopped back. One down. Now he was in range of the other two.

Their spears came in like rain. For a while all he could do was deflect. Slowly, though, he found their rhythm. They were fifth-level, sure, but they were still dummies—no improvisation, nothing like Wade's living, breathing spear. He let himself be herded toward a corner of the platform, knocked a spear aside, and shifted his weight left. The three dummies lined up in a straight row, and the back one lost sight of him.

Nate didn't waste it. The moment a spearhead slid past, he drove forward, shoving with everything he had. The lead dummy staggered, caught the second one behind it, and both toppled off the platform into the lake with a splash.

Done. Nate's body didn't even tire, but his head felt wrung out. He waited for the reward ping.

Another stairway rose out of the water instead.

"Are you kidding me," he said out loud. "How many more?"

He was fifth-level already. What was next—sixth? Could he even beat that? Five rounds in and not a single copper to show for it. Maybe the game was just jerking him around.

He told himself to walk it off and see what the system had left.

Not far ahead sat the last platform—ten times the size of the others. He knew it was the last one, because as he approached, the mist over the whole lake burned off.

He stood in the middle of the water now, his reflection staring back up at him out of the clear surface.

At the center of the platform stood a man. A long spear, butt on the stone, green robes, calm and scholarly-looking, eyes bright and locked on Nate.

"Come up, young man," the phantom said. "Let me see what this generation's got." He laid the spear across his shoulder and gestured for Nate to attack.

Above his head floated a name: **Spear Warrior, Phantom.**

Final boss. No more talking. Nate jumped onto the platform and drove straight at him.

The phantom turned his spearhead aside, turning defense into offense in the same motion, and swept back. Nate barely scrambled out of the way.

The thing's speed and strength were nearly identical to his own—probably a copy of his own stats. But where Nate's offense and defense both had cracks, the phantom had none. It didn't give him a single inch.

Spear came again. Nate's block was slapped aside. He was a heartbeat from being skewered when he threw himself sideways in a desperate roll to open distance.

On raw technique, he couldn't touch this thing. If Wade were here, maybe.

So the phantom chased him down and Nate survived by backpedaling and deflecting. The phantom wasn't faster than he was, so the flight was ugly but not fatal—the platform was huge.

Nate's mind raced. What kind of trial was this? The boss was ridiculous. Nobody was supposed to clear this.

But the platform, however big, had an edge. And he was almost at it.

Panic sharpened into an idea. He remembered a trick Wade had shown him while coaching—the one Nate had never once pulled off clean. Wade had taught it to him, sure, but Nate could never make it land.

This was the only shot he got. He missed it, and the phantom ran him down.

He glanced at the thing behind him, then turned and ran straight for the edge of the lake. The phantom lunged.

At the last instant, Nate dropped—turned, sat sideways on the air, dropped his center of gravity, left hand loose, right hand driving—and launched the spear like an arrow from a bow.

The phantom's spearhead was an inch from his face. Nate stared down its length, scalp crawling.

The phantom looked down at the spear now through its own chest. Then it shattered, drifting apart on the wind.

*Ding. Congratulations. Trial cleared.*

*You will be teleported out in one minute. Collect your reward.*

Finally.

Two things lay where the phantom had stood. One was a spear—the one the phantom had carried. Snow-white head, a shaft that looked like wrought iron, a relief carved into the butt. Serious-looking.

The other was a fist-sized sphere wrapped in shifting seven-color light. He couldn't make out what it was.

He grabbed the spear first.

**Blooddrinker**

**Quality: Bronze**

**Durability: 15 | Attack: 15**

**Strength: +1**

**Trait: Blooddrinker. Damage dealt with this spear is stored. At 100 stored, heal the wielder for 3 HP.**

Powerful. Not in the same zip code as his starter stick. And a lifesteal trait on top of it—potions were about to become a lot less of a worry. He swapped it in for the wooden spear and gave it a test swing. Sat in the hand like it had been made for him.

He sheathed it and turned to the glowing orb, heart hammering.