Setting the system messages aside for now, Peter swiftly made his way down the stairs, his steps light yet purposeful. His body was empowered fully by a bunch of his skills to the maximum capacity.
Reaching the ground floor, his eyes immediately locked onto the shattered main door, its wooden frame broken and discarded on the floor. Three kobolds stood just outside the entrance.
Peter didn't hesitate. Mana surged from the pool deep within his soul, flooding into his limbs with singular purpose… to make him faster, stronger, and more durable.
He might not possess a proper reinforcement skill, but with Weapon Mastery and Mana Manipulation working in perfect tandem, he wasn't lacking in guidance when it came to empowering his body.
At first glance, Weapon Mastery might seem unsuited for that, but the body itself was a weapon, and the skill treated it as such. Peter's raw stats might have been lower than the kobolds', but the sheer volume of mana he was utilising was enough to tip the scales in his favour.
It was wasteful. It was harmful, but so be it. His mind was set on delivering justice and protecting his mother. He didn't question the instructions flowing through him and didn't hesitate to wonder why.
His body simply moved, expertly guided by his skills. He sprinted toward them, like an afterimage, even as the kobolds barely managed to turn in his direction.
His sword lashed out, slicing through the nearest kobold's torso with terrifying ease, cleaving its body into two uneven halves before it could even snarl at him. That half-snarl twisted, turning into a weeping, dog-like scream as its body fell apart.
The remaining two kobolds froze, hesitating. They hadn't attacked yet. Maybe they were too shocked by what they had just witnessed.
Maybe it was something else entirely… something Peter didn't know, didn't care to know. This was his territory. His home.
His skills rejoiced within him, their presence humming in approval, as he stepped further out of the house, closing the distance to the remaining kobolds.
Finally, they attacked. Twin claws lashed out, aiming straight for his chest and stomach, while a tail moved like a whip on his hips.
Peter didn't flinch. His thoughts focused on attacking as he took the hits. His skills demanded his trust, and he gave it to them without hesitation. Eternal Ward flared to life, ever present as a faint, invisible barrier coating all of his body. The kobold's claws struck him, only to harmlessly glance off, failing to even leave a scratch.
He drew his sword back at an angle, guided not by conscious thought, but by instinct, by skill, and drove it clean through the heart of the nearest kobold.
Now face-to-face with the dog-faced creature, Peter met its wide, terrified eyes. And slowly, deliberately, he twisted the blade embedded in its chest, taking joy in its pain. Some comfort to his sheer anger as the creature shuddered in agony…its death inevitable.
Within moments, it collapsed lifelessly on the porch. Peter's attention snapped to the last remaining kobold, the only other humanoid monster left within arm's reach. It stumbled back, retreating two steps with fear clear in its every movement.
Then, it did something that made Peter curse aloud.
It howled, calling its brethren. A vertical cut, spanning from the upper left of its shoulder to its right hip, silenced the howl halfway, but the damage was already done.
Peter spared a glance at the sky, noticing the deep darkness of night had retreated just a little, signalling the approach of dawn. Yet the clamour of the nightmare that had fallen upon his village still rang in his ears.
Peter retreated into the house, already sensing a dozen kobolds approaching through his Mana Sense. He couldn't face them all at once, so he opted to use the hallway to limit their numbers. It was narrow, with barely enough space for two people to walk side by side, giving him plenty of breathing room.
Before he could dwell on it further, the first wave of kobolds reached the doorstep, and Peter was more than ready to welcome them to the gates of hell.
He stood firm, watching as they were forced to funnel themselves into lines of two in the confined space, charging straight at him. His skills whispered to him, showing him the way to kill each one with a single, precise blow. He only had to follow their will… execute each step perfectly.
They were demanding. Rebellious. But Peter had grown over the years. Unlike the first time he had fallen into the skill-high, his will now stood stronger. Tougher.
He allowed… not followed their advice, putting the knowledge and suggestions they provided into practice in a deadly sword dance against the kobolds. And even when he made a mistake, his defensive skills were there, shielding him from harm. Rinse and repeat. Kill after kill.
Under the cover of darkness, within the confined space of the hallway, Peter moved among his enemies like a spectre. His steps were light and measured, his breathing controlled. He quickly determined the optimal order of attack, minimising the interval between each kill.
In the rush of battle, Peter found himself calm. Focused. It felt as though he had finally found his natural element.
Back in his old world, he had struggled to kill even a house rat, but here, in this moment, he had no hesitation in taking the life of a creature that could probably think on the level of a six-year-old human child.
As more and more looming silhouettes of the kobold army gathered around, drawn in by the commotion, he slowed down, circling his next target.
The monster didn't stay still. It pounced to bite his ear off, but failed. Canines failing to break the protection of his Ward. Any discomfort or pain Peter might have felt from it was pushed away by the Spirit of Fortitude.
His blade was already moving through the air, its steel dark blue from the mana surging within. A moment later, it plunged into the weak point on the kobold's back, piercing through its scaly skin and destroying its heart and spine.
Peter felt a surge of triumph rise within him at how effortlessly he was thinning their numbers, but he quickly suppressed it. This wasn't the time to celebrate. For every enemy he killed, more were already coming.
Still, he trusted in Undying Vitality. It would allow him to fight nonstop, without fatigue, for as long as it took to kill every last one of these monsters. They weren't capable of doing him enough harm that couldn't be healed, so long as his vital points remained safe.
The heart and brain - those were the true weak points. A strike to either would cause him to lose ten thousand health points per second until fully healed. But Peter was confident. He could protect them with Eternal Ward and with precise use of parrying and guarding with his sword.
His safety wasn't what worried him. It was his mother.
Even as he killed them, their growing numbers were beginning to force him back, shoving past one another, driving him further into the house. Soon, they would push him far enough that they could ignore him entirely and rush the stairs to reach Mariah if they found out about her presence.
He must do something about it.