Shovels In Spades

"Who are you people anyway?" the aggressive man with the hoe asked Lyle. Lyle took a moment to scan him and noticed that he was actually rather well built despite being roughly fifty-years-old judging by his facial features.

He was wearing knee-length cameo shorts, a blood-stained white tee and a pair of crocs. Not exactly battle attire, but Lyle couldn't fault the man for that.

"Me?" Lyle said before he walked up to the edge of the roof and watched Daz slaughter the Zombies and Orcs with little struggle.

He was getting hit occasionally with the Orcs' crude weapons and by the Zombies' limbs, but he was still looking healthy enough.

"I'm Lyle. You could consider me my Lords' Advisor. I'm just a normal man, nothing special about me, really. My Lord though, he's different," Lyle said with his worship of Daz plain to see.

"Him?" the croc-wearing man said as he walked over to Lyle and stood next to him. "Sure, he's strong, but he doesn't seem that special. If what you said was true, can't we all be like him?" the aged man asked with a calmer tone.

Apparently, seeing Daz kill so many of the attacking monsters had cooled him down a bit, emotionally.

"Did you not hear me earlier?" Lyle asked in a peaceful manner. He apparently wasn't angry at the man in any way, even though he was disregarding Daz's ability somewhat. "My Lord had killed two hundred Zombies by himself with no enhancements. He is special... please don't compare regular people such as ourselves with him," Lyle said.

"'My Lord' this 'My Lord' that. Why do you keep calling him that?" the man asked with some annoyance in his tone.

"I agree, I'm a bit curious about that too, why do you call him that?" Heather, the redheaded woman, asked after turning to face Lyle.

"Because he is deserving of respect," Lyle said with a content smile. "But I suppose the correct answer would be because he actually is a Lord," Lyle finished.

"What do you mean?" Heather questioned. Lyle then took some time to explain a few things about Daz, however, he took care to not reveal too much just in case Daz didn't decide to bring them back to his base. While he was doing this, Daz was still working hard to kill the horde of monsters that was now roughly half of its original size.

'There's so many of them... did the system think this was a suitable test for me because I might not have enough energy to finish killing them? That must be it since they're not particularly tough... there's just so fucking many of them!' Daz noted in his mind as he used the skill Shovel Smash to cave in the skull of an Orc, sending its body hurtling through the horde, killing at least seven other monsters.

About thirty minutes later, there were maybe six-hundred monsters left, one-hundred Orcs and five-hundred Zombies. Daz looked dreadful. He was covered in red blood and guts and his right arm was hanging lifelessly. 'I might have been a bit rash saying I could handle all of these fuckers on my own...' he thought with a bit of a chuckle.

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He then coughed out a mouthful of blood and quickly took out one of his last remaining gems and ate it. 'System, can you please tell me how much lifeforce and jewelled core energy I have left?' Daz requested before he raised his left hand and swung his shovel down, killed two zombies that were about to bite down on his lifeless right arm.