He headed back to his camp.He pushed the goblin out of his mind, although he sneak attacked it. He doubt it would hesitate to kill him if given the chance.
Reaching his camp he placed his spoils beside the campfire and headed straight to the river.
He then proceeded to wash the scratches he had, in hopes of preventing an infection.
Reaching the river, Jordan knelt by the edge, the cool water lapping gently at the rocks. The scratches from his encounter with the goblin stung as he splashed water over them, but he gritted his teeth and kept going. Infection was a death sentence in a place like this, and he couldn't afford to be careless.
Using his hand, he scrubbed away any dirt or grime that might have gotten into the wounds. The cuts weren't deep, but they were enough to remind him of the danger he'd just faced. As he worked, he scanned his surroundings, the memory of the goblin fresh in his mind. He doubted it was alone. There could be more, and the thought made him uneasy.
"First a goblin," he muttered, rinsing off his hands, "what's next? An ogre?" He let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. The humor faded quickly, though, as the reality of his situation settled over him again.
After cleaning the wounds, he gathered some moss from nearby rocks. He'd read somewhere that certain mosses had antibacterial properties, though he wasn't sure this was the right kind. Still, it was better than nothing. He pressed the moss gently against the scratches, tying it in place with thin strips of hide he'd cut from the rabbit earlier. It wasn't ideal, but it would do for now.
Once satisfied, Jordan stood, taking one last look at the river before heading back to his camp. The forest felt quieter than usual, as though it were holding its breath. He walked cautiously, his knife in hand, eyes darting between the trees.
When he reached his camp, the sight of the small shelter and firepit brought a brief sense of comfort. He sat by the fire, adding a few sticks to rekindle the flames. The goblin's core and crude weapon lay where he'd left them, glinting faintly in the firelight.
He stared at the core for a moment, wondering what was it's use, as it was obviously too big to fit in the slot in his knife. For now, he needed rest, and the last thing he wanted was an unexpected reaction while he was already worn down.
Jordan leaned back against the rock behind his shelter, letting out a long sigh. The day had been eventful, to say the least. He'd learned a lot—but with that knowledge came more questions. Questions he wasn't sure he wanted answers to.
-----
"Drip... Drip... Drip..."
The sound of water echoing in the distance pulled Jordan from his slumber.
His eyes snapped open, and he froze. The comforting warmth of his campfire was gone, replaced by cold, sterile white walls. No, not walls—he realized, with a jolt of panic—it was a confined, rectangular box.
"What the... where am I?" he muttered, his breath quickening as he scanned his surroundings. The walls seemed to close in on him, the air stifling. His heart hammered in his chest as the sound of footsteps echoed faintly, growing closer.
A shadow loomed over him, blocking out the faint light. The silhouette leaned in, and a cold, detached female voice pierced the stillness.
"You're a disappointment. Maybe a few hours in the freezer will cool you down."
Before he could react, the box plunged into darkness. The sound of a heavy latch sealing sent chills down his spine, and the air around him seemed to grow colder.
Jordan sat up abruptly, his chest heaving as beads of sweat rolled down his face. The fire was still smoldering faintly beside him, casting flickering shadows on the surrounding trees. His hand instinctively reached for the knife by his side, gripping it tightly as if it could ground him.
"That dream again..." he whispered, his voice shaky. He rubbed his temples, trying to shake the lingering haze of the nightmare. The memory of the cold, sterile box and the ominous female voice gnawed at him. It felt so real, like a ghost from his past clawing its way into his mind.
"Why does it keep coming back?" he muttered, staring into the faint embers of the fire. The dream had plagued him ever since he arrived in this strange, hostile world. It was as though the very fabric of this place was pulling at the unresolved pieces of his past, forcing him to confront them.
Jordan took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the unease lingered, like a shadow he couldn't shake.
He glanced at the goblin core he'd left by the fire the day before. Its faint glow seemed to pulse rhythmically, almost like it was alive. "A freezer, huh?" he said bitterly, his voice dripping with irony. "Now I've got both the monsters out here and the ones in my head to deal with."
He stood and stretched, his muscles stiff from sleeping on the uneven ground. The marks on his chest itched faintly, and he noticed they'd spread even more, now reaching the edge of his left shoulder. "Great," he muttered, staring at the intricate pattern. "Just what I needed."
The night was calm, but the forest's silence felt heavy. Jordan paced for a moment, trying to shake the tension coiled in his body. He glanced at his knife, the strange carvings glowing faintly in the moonlight. Maybe the core would help unlock more of its potential. Maybe it would make him stronger, enough to survive not just this world but the memories that haunted him.
For now, though, he needed rest. Jordan lay back down, his knife within reach, and stared up at the twin moons hanging in the sky. "One day," he whispered to himself, "I'll figure this out. All of it." With that, he closed his eyes, hoping for a few dreamless hours of sleep before the sun rose again.
------
With the morning sun now fully risen, Jordan stirred awake, the remnants of the dream still clinging to his thoughts. He pushed the unsettling memories aside and stretched, groaning softly. His muscles ached, and fatigue weighed heavy on his body, but he forced himself to get moving.
After a quick and refreshing bath in the river, he returned to camp only to be greeted by a foul stench. The uneaten rabbit from the day before had spoiled overnight.
"Damn it," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It died for nothing." He massaged his temple, frustration bubbling inside him.
Grimacing, he carried the carcass far away from his camp and discarded it, hoping the smell wouldn't attract any predators.
Back at the campfire, he sat down cross-legged, his collection of cores laid out before him: one horned rabbit core, three slime cores, and the goblin core. He picked up the goblin core, noting its size and weight. It was too large to fit into the slot on his knife. "Guess you're on standby," he muttered, setting it aside.
Turning his attention to the slime cores, he selected one and carefully slipped it into the now-empty slot on the knife. For a moment, nothing happened. But then, the carvings along the blade began to glow faintly, a greenish-blue light pulsating like a heartbeat. The core dissolved into the knife, and the entire blade seemed to ripple, the light intensifying before stabilizing.
Jordan's breath caught as the knife began to shift in his hand. The blade elongated slightly, the edges sharpening to a fine, gleaming finish. The carvings glowed faintly, as if alive, and the hilt seemed sturdier, the grip molding more comfortably into his hand.
Finally, the glow subsided, leaving the knife transformed. It was no longer just a knife—it felt like something more, a weapon of purpose.
"About time," Jordan muttered, holding the blade up to the sunlight. It shimmered faintly, a reflection of its newfound power. A small smirk played on his lips. Maybe now, surviving this world wouldn't feel so hopeless.
As Jordan admired the transformed blade, an unexpected sensation crept through him—a warmth, the same soothing warmth he'd felt when the stone had first entered his chest and left behind the mysterious mark. It spread through his veins like a gentle wave, calming his nerves and blanketing his body in comfort.
But just as he began to relax into it, the warmth shifted, replaced by a sharp but tolerable pain. His body tingled all over, the feeling both alien and overwhelming. Confusion etched itself across his face as he staggered slightly, gripping the newly transformed knife for support.
"What the hell...?" he whispered, gritting his teeth as the sensation surged through him. It wasn't unbearable, but it was enough to send his mind racing. For what felt like ten minutes, he endured the odd tingling, his body feeling as though it were being subtly reshaped.
When the sensation finally stopped, Jordan let out a long breath. His muscles no longer ached; instead, his body felt... rejuvenated. Stronger. Lighter. He flexed his fingers, noting how smooth and seamless every motion felt.
"I feel good," he muttered, still confused. He stood, and that's when he noticed the changes. For starters, he was taller—not by a significant margin, but enough for it to be noticeable. If he had to guess, he'd say he'd grown at least three inches. His eyes widened further as he examined his arms and hands, finding that the scratches and small injuries from the previous day had completely vanished.
Pulling up his shirt, Jordan stared in shock. The mark on his chest had expanded dramatically, now snaking across his left shoulder and partially down his arm. It looked almost alive, intricate patterns glowing faintly before dimming. But that wasn't all—his body had changed. Where before he had been somewhat lean, he was now cut. His abs were sharply defined, and his entire frame looked like it had been sculpted to peak athleticism.
"This is... strange," he murmured, running his hand over his stomach. The muscles were real, solid, and his arms and legs had an equally toned appearance. It was as though his body had been optimized, stripped of any excess and rebuilt for survival.
He looked back at the knife in his hand, its faintly glowing carvings almost mocking him with their calm presence. "Did my knife do this?" he wondered aloud.
It seemed likely. The knife had transformed with the core, and now it seemed to have reshaped him as well. His body felt like it had been upgraded to match the blade's newfound power, a strange and unnerving synergy between man and weapon.
Jordan sat back down, still processing the changes. While the new strength was undoubtedly useful, it left him with more questions than answers. Just what kind of power had he stumbled upon? And what would it demand of him in return?