WorldCrafter - Building My Underground Kingdom-Chapter 76: The Small Ravager

Ben grinned, baring his teeth. The Ravagers circled, growling low, their bodies tense. Their spine glow in rhythm communicating with each other.

Ben moved first. His foot dug into the dirt—then he was gone. A blur. A shadow streaking across the battlefield. The closest Ravager barely had time to react before his pickaxe smashed through its skull.

CRACK!

Its body went limp instantly, blood spraying as he ripped the weapon free. The next Ravager snapped at his flank. Ben twisted, its fangs missing by inches. Before it could recoil, he drove his knee up, crushing its throat with a sickening CRUNCH. The creature gagged, staggered—then his foot slammed down on its skull, finishing the job.

The others attacked. Four at once. Ben’s Adaptive Muscles flexed, shifting. His body moved with perfect efficiency. Duck. Twist. Step left. Pivot.

CLANG!

A Brute’s claws raked across his arm—but instead of piercing flesh, they glanced off his hardened exoskeleton. Ben grabbed the limb mid-swing, using its own momentum to hurl the massive beast over his shoulder. It crashed into another Ravager, sending them both tumbling.

The third came from the side—fast. Too fast for a normal counter. Ben didn’t even try.

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Instead, he leaned back, letting the attack slide past him—and in that moment, his adaptive muscle took over. His body bent unnaturally, his spine shifting like liquid, allowing him to twist mid-air.

His foot came up—

SLAM!

A brutal axe-kick to the back of its skull. The Ravager collapsed instantly. Three dead. Three more down.

The last two hesitated. Ben straightened, rolling his neck. His body shifted back into place, the unnatural flexibility disappearing as he returned to a normal stance. He exhaled. "Come on, then."

The two remaining Ravagers snarled and charged. Ben moved to meet them— Then the ground caved in beneath him. —BOOM!—

A massive rupture tore through the battlefield as something exploded from below. Ben’s instincts screamed, but it was too late. His body twisting midair as he was dragged downward. His feet barely touched solid ground before the first Brute Ravager jumped forward—a massive wall of muscle and armored hide, its claws swinging down like a falling guillotine.

Ben jerked back, the air splitting where he had just stood. Before he could counter—

THUD!

Another Brute rushed from the side, its shoulder slamming into him with bone-crushing force. Ben skidded back, feet digging into the dirt. His eyes flicked to the one leading them—the small Ravager the one he mistaken as their alpha.

The moment Ben tried to counter one of the Brutes, the small Ravager clicked its mandibles— SNAP!

Another Brute crashed in from behind, forcing him back again. Ben growled, frustration creeping in. Every time he found an opening—the moment slipped.

They were moving in sync. He move forward, pickaxe swinging in a arc—but before it could land, the small Ravager clicked again.

SWOOSH!

A Brute leapt in, blocking the strike with its armored forearm. Ben’s grip tightened. ’Tch—it’s using them like shields!’ A second later, the Ravager leader snapped its mandibles again—

WHOOSH!

A third Brute came from the side, claws slashing. Ben barely managed to raise his arm in time—

CLANG!

The impact sent a shockwave through his bones, forcing him back again. He exhaled sharply. ’Alright. If I can’t go for the Brutes…’

His eyes locked onto the small one. Then he’d rip the brain out of the operation. Ben moved. Faster. His Adaptive Muscles flexed, power surging through his limbs as he closed the distance in an instant. But the Ravager had been waiting. Before he could land the strike—

ROOAAAR!!!

The remaining Brutes surged forward, attacking in unison. Ben barely had time to twist, his muscles snapping into motion as claws raked toward him from all angles. He ducked under one strike, spun away from another, but there were too many. A talon slashed across his back, his chitin armor cracking from the force.

Ben gritted his teeth. ’Annoying.’ He killed three instantly, his pickaxe crushing through skulls, his free hand transformed into sharp claw tearing out throats—but the moment the last body hit the ground, he snapped his gaze forward— And the small Ravager was gone.

Ben’s eyes widened. A second ago, it had been right there. Now it was several meters away, standing atop a broken chunk of stone, its glowing mandibles clicking together in amusement. Ben’s irritation spiked. "You little—" He shot forward again, leaping high, Grimslate blocks materializing in the air.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The dense slabs of rock crashed down, slamming into the Brutes beneath him. Not enough to kill them, but enough to keep them out of his way. Ben landed—right in front of the small Ravager.

This time, there was no escape. He grinned, his pickaxe already in motion, swinging in a arc— And then nothing. His blade whistled through empty air. Ben’s eyes widened. ’What the hell—?!’

The Ravager was still standing in front of him. It hadn’t moved. But his attack had missed. A flicker of motion—Ben’s gaze snapped up. The Ravager grinned. A cold, mocking grin.

Then— PAIN. Something smashed into his ribs from the side, sending him crashing through the battlefield. Ben’s body whipped through the air, slamming into the side of a jagged rock formation. A shockwave tore through his bones, but he pushed past the pain, twisting mid-air to land on his feet.

His gaze snapped back to the small Ravager. It still stood there. Unmoving And yet—his attack had missed. ’Illusion? No… my senses didn’t lie. I felt it. I was right there.’

The Ravager’s jaw clicked again. This time, the sound was almost mocking. Ben’s grip on his pickaxe tightened. "Alright, you little shit. Let’s see what trick you’re using."

The Ravager vanished. Ben’s pupils contracted. Not by speed. Not by stealth. It was like his presence had been erased.

WHAM!

A force slammed into his back before he could react. Ben was hurled forward, his boots skidding across the stone. He twisted his body, striking out blindly— CLANG! His pickaxe hit something solid—but again, it felt wrong. His blade connected, but there was no impact. No resistance Like hitting a shadow.