Mocked at Level 1, I Became the Spear God

Chapter 9: Ambush in the Tall Grass

"Sloane, go! I'll hold them!"

That voice. Nate's eyes locked on the fight.

It was Wade. Wade Granger, in his ratty starter spear, knocking aside weapon after weapon—but ten against two, and his HP was down around a tenth of its bar.

Next to him was a woman. Plain starter clothes, but the clothes didn't do her any favors—tall, fine-featured, a sword in her hand, frowning, quietly deflecting everything that came at her. She didn't waste breath.

"Oh, you want to leave now? Too late. We gave you your chance and you spit on it. Now we escort you out." A sharp, sneering voice from the other side. It had to be their leader.

"Try to take a mob from the Sovereigns? You should've asked around first. Learned who runs this village." The man with the bow kept loosing arrows at them even as he talked. One caught the tall woman in the shoulder. Her bar wobbled into the danger zone.

Nate crouched in the grass, watching, looking for a hole. Too many of them. Charging in straight wouldn't change a thing.

He circled slow, staying low, until he was behind the archer—the bowman too busy loosing at Wade to watch his own back. Nate closed to under five paces, then exploded out of the grass, Blooddrinker driving for the archer's spine.

The archer never saw it. By the time one of his goons yelked a warning, it was too late.

*Thunk.* **Perfect Strike! -102.**

A golden number over a hundred popped off the archer's back.

Nate didn't let him recover. He converted the thrust into an upward lift—the archer floated half off his feet—and before he landed, Nate swept sideways.

**-58.** **-62.**

The archer had about four hundred HP. Half of it was gone. He planted his feet and bolted, trying to open range.

Nate's spear filled the space between them like a wall.

*Thunk. Thunk.*

**-102.** **-99.** Two more Perfect Strikes, and the archer folded, dropping his bow in the dirt.

The other eight just stared. What the hell. Their captain was gone.

Wade seized the opening, hauled his sister over to Nate, and laughed loud. "Brother Wren! Took you long enough to come out and play." He turned to the girl. "Sloane, this is him—the Wren I told you about. Real gift with a spear."

She pulled her hand out of her brother's grip, face cold, and gave Nate one flat look. She didn't say a word.

Wade didn't seem to mind. "Wren, this is my sister. Handle's Sloane."

Nce took her in. Figure, face, carriage—all of it top shelf.

Ice cold, though.

He nodded once in greeting, kept his spear up, and turned it toward the eight remaining enemies.

"Hey, kid. You know you're finished, right?" One of them found his voice. "You know who you just killed? That was Rex. Our captain. The Sovereigns' top man. You drop your gear right now and maybe he lets you live."

Their captain was dead and they'd forgotten how to fight. All they could do was yell.

"Less talking." Nate settled into his stance. "You wanna come? Come on. We're not scared of you."

Wade grinned, trading blows while he secretly sipped a potion.

"Captain's orders—we kill them back to level zero. Surrender won't save you now. On me!" Somebody must've gotten word to Rex, because the eight charged.

They'd lost their archer. Eight left: four melee, two mages, two rogues, one healer. All level five.

Nate and Wade exchanged one look and agreed without words: kill the healer first.

Wade tanked front, drawing the fire. Nate circled wide to flank—but these guys weren't new. Two melee peeled off to block him.

**-15.** **-18.** Two numbers off Nate's bar. The look on their faces when their level-five hits did double digits to him.

He didn't waste it. His spear caught both of them.

**-55.** **-62.**

Then a rogue came in from behind, dagger leading for his kidneys. Nate slid sideways by a breath, spun, and swept the rogue. **-60.** Then a white bloom fell on the rogue—**+50**—the healer racing to top him up.

Nate's jaw tightened. Too outnumbered. No healer down, and they couldn't win.

He glanced toward their healer—when a slender figure suddenly landed right next to the woman, sword a blur. The healer's bar started melting.

Sloane. She'd slipped around behind them while everyone was busy, used the sword's reach, and already had the healer half-dead.

The others started to peel off to save her. Wade and Nate pushed harder, giving them no room to breathe.

*Clang. Clang.* Sloane finished the healer. Nate had written her off as eye candy, but the girl's swordwork was a dance.

No healer, and the survivors' bars started dropping for good. The three of them had flipped the whole fight.

"Enjoy this—Rex is gonna avenge us!" the last one yelled.

*Thunk.* Nate put him down and walked over to Wade.

The loot was garbage—just a bow and some potions.

"Hah, brother." Wade clapped his shoulder. "If you hadn't shown up, I'd be a ghost right now."

"You and Sloane don't need me. She fights like she's been doing it her whole life." Nate could tell—both of them had trained for real, out in the real world. Sloane especially; her sword moved like ribbon.

"True enough. We could've run. We stayed 'cause we were mad. Come on." Wade led the way toward a thick stand of trees at the edge of the grassland. Sloane followed.

"Look." Wade pointed.

Inside the trees loomed a wolf the size of a man, three meters long, prowling. Above its head, four blood-red words: **Elite Direwolf.**

An elite mob.

"Sloane found it. Tried to solo it, couldn't, called me. We were just getting into it when the Sovereigns rolled up and tried to steal it. We weren't gonna let them." Wade still looked pissed about it. He shared the wolf's sheet.

**Elite Direwolf — Quality: Elite | Level 5 | Attack 60 | Defense 30 | HP 10000 | Skill: Savage Rend.**

"Those guys took about twenty minutes to get back here once they respawned. So? You in?"

With Wren here, the three of them would take it clean. The only question was whether they beat the clock.

The Sovereigns had been killed back to the village. They'd be back, and they wouldn't be polite.

"In." Nate didn't even think. "What's a game for, if not killing mobs and hoping for loot? If they show up, we send them home again."

"Good. I'll pull it. You two burst it down." Wade charged the wolf.

The elite turned its great shaggy head at the trespasser and cuffed him.

*Thwack.* **-40.** **-25.** The two numbers popped off Wade and off the wolf.

The wolf was fast, hard to dodge, so Wade ate one. Then Nate and Sloane were on it—Nate's spear for thirty, Sloane's sword for twenty-two.

The wolf roared, eyes going red. It used the skill. Three claws in a row, and all three of them took it. Wade's bar dropped to half. He staggered aside and Nate stepped in to tank.

Blooddrinker made up the level gap. His damage actually edged out Wade's. Every two or three hits, the lifesteal kicked in. The three of them weren't new—they timed it well, and Sloane's sword found ugly angles, Perfect Strikes popping all over the wolf.

Ten minutes in. The wolf's bar was under two thousand.

They were about to push in for the finish when a shout went up from the trees.

"There they are!"