Magic Murder Cube Marine

As time began returning to the world, Francis realized he didn't have time for System to narrate the wall of text appearing in front of him. The green cloaks surrounding him were starting to move. There was no way around it. He was going to have to read it all. The Marine braced himself as a wave of blue boxes flooded his mind.

NAME Francis Francis Francis the 3rd

LEVEL 30

TIER 7

HP 11 / 6300

MP 0 / 6300

STRESS 5 / 30

PRIMARY CLASS

Combat Warlock: Pact of the Boom (10)

SECONDARY CLASS

Celestial Sorcerer: Shotgun Soul (20)

HERITAGE Human

GENDER Male

HEIGHT 2 Meters

WEIGHT 150 Kilos

RELIGIOUS AFFILIATIONS

Murder Cube, The United States Marine Corps, Johnny Cash, Chesty Puller, General Mattis, Betty White, John Moses Browning, The Cult of Francis^3

CURRENT ENEMIES

Hades, Zeus, The Forces of Darkness, Seagulls, HOA’s, PETA, The Entire Middle East.

CURRENT ALLIES

Murder Cube, The United States Marine Corps, Bartenders, Grunts, Phone Sex Operators, Dogs, Horses, Chuck, Willow, Auldric, Miller, McHorseface, Julia, Shiv, Jack, Relativity

DURABLE 30 (Your armor wears you for protection.)

INTELLECTUAL 30 (Wait… what? You have got to be joking!)

PHYSICAL 30 (Holy shit you’re strong!)

SOCIAL 30 (Everyone likes you. But nobody knows why.)

SPIRITUAL 30 (The other realm is trying to contact you about your soul’s extended warranty.)

ATTACK (MAGICAL) 10 +1 (11)

ATTACK (MELEE) 10 +1 (11)

ATTACK (RANGED) 10 +1 (11)

DEFLECT 10 +1 +3 (14)

IMMUNITY (POISON)

RESISTANCE (SPIRIT)

ARCANE 10 +1 +2 (13)

BUSINESS 0 +1 (1)

BYPASS 0 +1 (1)

CHEMISTRY 0 +1 (1)

CONSTRUCT 0 +1 (1)

CHIRP 2 +1 (3)

CRIME 2 +1 (3)

CORRELATE 0 +1 (1)

CULINARY 0 +1 (1)

DRIVE 0 +1 (1)

EDUCATED 2 +1 (3)

ENTERTAIN 0 +1 (1)

INSTRUCT 1 +1 (2)

LANGUAGE (GRUNT) 10 +1 (11)

LANGUAGE (VAHNISSIAN COMMON) 2 +1 (3)

MECHANICAL 0 +1 (1)

MEDICINE 0 +1 (1)

NATURE 10 +1 (11)

NAVIGATION 0 +1 (1)

NECROMANCY 2 +1 +4 (7)

OBSERVATION 10 +1 (11)

OTHERWORLDER 1 +1 (2)

PRECISION 0 +1 (1)

RESIST (MENTAL) 10 +1 (11)

RESIST (PHYSICAL) 10 +1 (11)

STEALTH 0 +1 (1)

SWAY 10 +1 +3 (14)

Divine Weapon Damage = (10 Magical Damage x Tier) + Casting Stat)

Special Property (Lifesteal): On a critical hit, recover HP equivalent to damage dealt before resistances. Cannot be more than the creature's remaining HP. Does not work on undead, dead, or creatures that were never alive.

City of Brexis: +1 to all skills when within the city.

Lifeline: While under the effect of this spell, when you would reach 0 HP or be killed instantly without losing health, you may instead choose to take no damage and end this spell.

Blood for Mana

Prerequisites: Warlock

Cost: 1 Stress

Duration: 10 mins

Recover 10 MP x Tier of creatures killed. Tier 0 nets no MP.

You have 6 Stress. You will die if Stress exceeds your level (30). See Readme for more information on Stress.

Francis came back to reality, kneeling in a puddle of his own blood. He was exhausted, bleeding out, and his head throbbed from all the information he had been forced to absorb. His gaze followed the spear stuck in his chest up to the man holding it.

There were other people with weapons surrounding him. But none of those people had him stuck on the end of their spears like an angry cocktail olive.

“Oh, fuck…” The green cloak said as Francis pointed the shotgun at his face and pulled the trigger. System needed to do some math.

Attack Magical Skill exceeds target Deflect by five or more.

Automatic Crit!

Divine Weapon Automatic Crit: 7 (30 + 10 • 7) = 700 Magical Damage

Alvin the Tier 3 Green Cloak’s health: 550 HP

Lifesteal: 550 HP Recovered

Blood for Mana: 3 • 10 = 30 MP Recovered

“HOT DAMN!” Francis roared as he absorbed the stolen HP and MP. He stood up and ripped the spear out of his chest. Blood flowed freely from the wound. But Francis didn't care. The Marine took aim at the closest green cloak that still had their head, and fired.

Francis got another rush of HP and MP as the green cloak abruptly became a head shorter. It felt like whiskey and coke with ice on a hot desert night. Or the familiar voice of a phone sex operator reading stories to him when he couldn't sleep. And he wanted more.

He fired from the hip, spinning in a circle and unleashing hell at waist level. There was no need to reload the magical weapon. It unleashed a steady stream of buckshot as fast as he could pull the trigger.

The remaining green cloaks went to attack Francis, but their spears and rapiers bounced off him. In their haste to kill the Marine, they had forgotten to debuff him first. And their lack of teamwork had cost them.

“Say goodnight, Gracie.” Someone whispered in his mind.

Acting on pure instinct Francis burned 60 MP to teleport six meters up in the air. A crossbow bolt passed below him and eliminated one of the green cloaks. At the same time, a pair of incendiary grenades landed where he had been standing.

The glass bottles shattered, showering the remaining men with a glowing orange liquid that ignited on contact with air. The remaining green cloaks barely had time to scream before the flames consumed them.

Francis teleported six meters to his right to get away from the heat and landed on a balcony. He turned and spotted a pair of men on the rooftop across from him. They were pulling orange glass bottles from a wooden crate. He took aim at the crate, and fired.

The two grenadiers were vaporized instantly. Francis ducked into the building to break line of sight and another black crossbow bolt embedded in the stone wall where he had been standing.

Francis wasn't great at math, or words. But he could draw lines and follow them. He triangulated the bolt’s point of origin to a rooftop a hundred meters away.

The Marine couldn't see anyone. But there was a shimmer in the air that reminded him of Chuck’s invisibility spell.

Francis aimed at the shimmer and started firing. He hosed the rooftop down until he got a wave of HP and MP that confirmed the kill.

He wanted to sit down, lean back against the wall, and catch his breath. But the sounds coming from further up the road told him the fight wasn't over. Something large and inhuman was roaring and shooting flames into the sky.

“Guess that means it's time to go back to work,” Francis said. He paused, realizing something very important. Where the fuck was Relativity?

The staff had been in his hands when he had his vision. Now it was gone. He looked at the shotgun, noticing a distinct aura of death surrounding it. There were also subtle engravings of runes and grasping skeletal hands. “Relativity?”

The shotgun gave him a dull feeling of affirmation, as if it were there, but also a long ways away. The Marine didn't have time to figure that out. All that mattered was he still had Relativity. He started running towards the source of the noises.

“Willow! I'm on my way up the high road,” Francis said via mental message. “What the fuck am I about to run into?”

There was a brief pause. “We ran into some resistance getting to you. They ambushed us outside the palace. But that's taken care of.”

Another bone shaking roar and a hundred meter tall pillar of flame erupted into the air. Francis picked up the pace.

“And that?” he asked.

“Shiv’s mother,” Willow said, “She was unhappy to find out we hadn't invited her to the wedding. But I think she's cooling off.”

Francis slowed his pace. Armies of assassins and birds with bombs, he could deal with. But this situation was outside of his comfort zone. “I guess it's time to get uncomfortable,” he said.

***

The family drama Francis found when he turned the corner was epic, and not just because of the massive red dragon. Though Amanda Rose, adoptive mother of Shivaree Rose, definitely had a way of drawing attention.

Her wingspan was fifty meters wide and clutched in one of her talons was what looked suspiciously like a dress. It was hard to tell from the protective wrappings. He got confirmation when Shiv started shouting at her mother in Vahnissian Common.

“I DON'T WANT TO WEAR A DRESS! JULIA HAS A LOVELY DRESS! WHY DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?”

The dragon shifted uncomfortably. “I don't see why we must switch to the base tongue. This is a private matter, best discussed in a language with nuance.” Amanda huffed. “I don't see why you're so mad.”

Julia took up a position behind her wife-to-be. She nodded to Francis before turning to face her future mother in law. “Perhaps Shiv is also angry because you prevented us from coming to the aid of our patron. Someone whom, I might add, is the only reason we are able to get married. If he were to die, I doubt we would be able to find another willing deity.”

“Oh, you're worried about some jumped up demi-god? I can buy them by the dozen.” Amanda turned her long snakelike neck and addressed Francis. “No offense.”

“Do you usually come onto people's property and insult them?” Francis asked, “Because where I’m from, that's pretty fucking rude.”

Amanda’s eyes burned at the mention of her social faux-pas. She angled the rest of her body to face him. “So, what exactly are you the god of?”

“Monogamy, fidelity, loyalty, and horses.” Francis replied, getting in closer in case things turned nasty.

He was exhausted and in desperate need of a shower. But before that could happen he needed to make sure there weren't any more bad guys. And this dragon was standing in the way of that. “So, I will politely tell you to respect Shiv’s wishes or leave. It's her wedding, not yours.”

“You think you can order around a dragon?” She laughed at the absurdity of the notion.

“Yes.”

Amanda's green eyes narrowed to slits. “Interesting.”

Their face-off was interrupted when Jack came running around the corner. “We've got more enemies inbound!” He stopped and panted for a few seconds, trying to catch his breath. Coming back with one hit point and a bunch of Stress was rough, but it beat the alternative. Jack thanked the gods (in this case Francis), that he had taken the Cleric ability Live to Serve, which revived him at the nearest temple. This was the second time it had saved his ass, the first time being his unfortunate run in with Stompy.

Jack looked up at Francis. “Like I said before, fucking persistent, aren't they?”