Jordan woke up with a jolt, his heart hammering against his chest as beads of sweat clung to his forehead. The fire had burned down to faint embers, and the night was eerily silent, save for the faint rustle of leaves in the distance.
It was the same dream again, the one that had plagued him for nights now. But this time, it was different—worse.
In this dream, he hadn't been confined to a cold, white box or scolded by the shadowy figure. This time, he had woken up in a casket, the darkness pressing in on him from all sides. He could hear the muffled sound of dirt being shoveled onto the lid, the dull thuds growing heavier as they buried him alive. No matter how loud he screamed, how desperately he clawed at the unyielding wood, he was met with nothing but deafening silence.
Even now, fully awake, he could still feel the suffocating weight of the dream—his chest tight, his breath short. He ran a trembling hand over his face, trying to ground himself in reality, to remind himself that he wasn't in a coffin, wasn't being buried alive. He was here, alive, and still fighting to survive in this brutal, unforgiving world.
"What the hell is wrong with me?" he muttered, his voice hoarse and shaky.
He looked around the camp, the faint glow of the embers casting shadows on the surrounding trees. The dream left an unsettling heaviness in his chest, and he knew sleep wouldn't come again tonight.
Jordan stood up, pacing the small space of his camp as he tried to shake off the lingering dread. The dreams were getting worse, and he couldn't help but wonder if they meant something—if they were a warning, a memory, or just his mind unraveling under the constant stress of survival.
"Focus, Jordan. Focus," he whispered to himself. Survival demanded a clear mind, and he couldn't afford to lose his grip on reality—not here, not now.
He stoked the fire back to life, letting the warm light chase away the darkness around him. He couldn't sleep, but he could plan. Tomorrow, he would push himself harder, go further, hunt more, and find answers—if there were any to be found. For now, he would sit by the fire and keep watch, the glow of the flames his only comfort in the oppressive quiet of the night.
.....
The sun had risen, casting a gentle warmth over the forest, its rays breaking through the canopy in golden shafts of light. The morning air carried a crispness, touched with the scent of dew and earth.
Four carriages moved steadily along the uneven path, their wheels crunching softly against the dirt. Each carriage was a display of wealth and refinement, their exteriors polished to a gleaming finish, with gilded trim that caught the light as they passed. Yet, it was the third carriage in line that drew the most attention—a masterpiece of craftsmanship and opulence. Its frame was intricately carved with floral patterns, its windows adorned with delicate silk curtains that swayed gently with the motion. The horses pulling it were finer than the rest, their coats shining like satin under the sun.
Inside the third carriage, a figure sat poised, gazing out through the slightly parted curtains.
The carriage rolled steadily, its smooth motion contrasting with the turmoil in the young lady's heart. Her gaze drifted once more to the vast expanse of trees outside, but her mind was far from the peaceful scenery. The words of Sir Cedric echoed in her mind, a reminder of her powerlessness in the face of her father's decisions.
"Is it truly so impossible for me to choose my own path?" she whispered softly, more to herself than to the knight sitting across from her.
Sir Cedric, ever the loyal protector, hesitated before speaking. "The Duke's will is absolute, Miss. You know this well."
She sighed, a deep, heavy breath that carried the weight of unspoken feelings. "But how can he choose for me? How can anyone expect me to marry a stranger... someone I don't even know?"
The silence that followed was thick, only broken by the sound of the horses' hooves on the dirt road. Sir Cedric, despite his position, found himself at a loss for words, his usual confident demeanor shaken by the pain in her voice.
He was torn, caught between his unwavering loyalty to the Duke and his duty to the young lady before him.
He parted his lips to speak, but the heavy silence was shattered by the frantic screams of soldiers and the shrill neighing of the horses.
The carriage lurched violently as their own horses joined in the chaos, their panic unmistakable.
"What's happening?" Elysia's voice trembled, her eyes wide with fear as she turned to him.
Before Sir Cedric could respond, the door flew open, and a knight rushed in, breathless and frantic.
"Sir! We're being ambushed by goblins!" the soldier shouted, his voice laced with urgency.
Sir Cedric's eyes hardened at the news, his hand instinctively reaching for the sword at his side. The peaceful ride had turned into chaos in the blink of an eye.
"Stay inside, Miss!" Sir Cedric ordered, his voice firm yet filled with a rare urgency. "We'll handle this."
Elysia's heart pounded in her chest, but she could do nothing but nod, her hands gripping the edges of the seat as the carriage jolted violently. She could hear the sounds of battle outside, the clash of steel against the savage cries of goblins.
"Cedric, please…" she whispered, her voice quivering. "Be careful."
But the knight was already gone, rushing to the door to join the fray. As the door slammed shut behind him, the sounds of metal clashing and screams grew louder, echoing through the thick trees surrounding them.
Elysia's mind raced. She was powerless here, confined within the walls of the carriage, forced to wait as the men outside fought for their lives. The fear clawed at her chest, her thoughts consumed with worry for Sir Cedric and the others.
Moments passed, though they felt like hours. Then, a loud thud against the carriage jolted her from her thoughts. Something—someone—was trying to break inside.
Elysia's breath caught in her throat as she scrambled to her feet, her eyes darting to the door. She had no idea what was happening outside, but the panic in the air was unmistakable.
She needed to do something. She couldn't just sit there.
As she reached for the handle, the door was suddenly flung open. The small sense of relief she had was immediately crushed as she saw who—no, what—had opened it.
A goblin. It stood there for a brief moment, its beady eyes fixed on her. A twisted smile crept across its face.
Elysia's eyes widened in terror. For a heartbeat, it felt as though her heart had stopped altogether, frozen by the horror of the creature before her.
But before the goblin could enter, something blurred past the carriage. In an instant, the goblin was yanked away, vanishing before it could get any further.
.....
Jordan walked through the dense forest, his eyes scanning the ground for any signs of movement. It had been a few days since his last encounter with the goblins, and his confidence had only grown since then. He had gotten stronger, faster, and more aware of his surroundings.
The knife, now fully attuned to his growing abilities, rested comfortably at his side. He had noticed subtle changes in the way it felt in his hand, the way it responded when he gripped it.
His thoughts kept drifting back to the events of the past few days—his transformation, the newfound strength coursing through his body, the core upgrades, and the strange marking that seemed to expand with each encounter. He couldn't help but feel that there was something more at play, something far beyond his understanding.
His stomach growled, reminding him of his goal—food. He was going to need something bigger than a rabbit to sustain himself now.
Suddenly, a rustling sound caught his attention. He tensed, his senses sharpening. The forest was alive with sounds, but this one was different—he could sense something was nearby. Something bigger.
Cautiously, he moved toward the noise, the ground soft beneath his feet as he crept closer.
Out of the underbrush, a large boar emerged, its tusks gleaming in the filtered sunlight. Jordan didn't hesitate; he knew what he had to do. With a swift motion, he drew his knife, the blade reflecting the light for a split second before he lunged forward.
This would be his biggest challenge yet.
The boar, sensing the attack, spun around with surprising speed, its dark eyes locked on Jordan. Before it could fully react, Jordan had closed the gap and swung his knife at its side.
But the unexpected happened—the boar let out a furious squeal and flung him off with a powerful buck.
Jordan's back slammed into a nearby tree with a dull thud, forcing the air from his lungs. His grip on the knife held firm, though his fingers trembled slightly from the impact.
"Son of a bitch!" he groaned, pushing himself to his feet, his eyes narrowing on the beast.
The boar, undeterred and enraged, pawed at the ground before letting out a guttural snort. It gave Jordan no time to recover, charging at him with relentless fury.
Jordan sidestepped just as the boar thundered toward him, its momentum carrying it forward.
**"BAMMM!"**
A sickening crash echoed through the forest as the boar slammed headfirst into the tree, shaking it violently. Leaves rained down, and the creature stumbled back, clearly disoriented.
Jordan seized the opportunity. Without hesitation, he lunged forward, driving his knife deep into the boar's neck.
The beast let out a guttural squeal, thrashing in desperation, but Jordan held his ground. His free hand gripped the boar tightly, pinning it down with all his strength. If it weren't for the upgrade his body had undergone, the force of the earlier blow and the raw power of the beast would've overwhelmed him.
But now, he could hold his own.
The boar's movements slowed, then stopped entirely, as its body went limp. Jordan pulled his knife free, panting as he stared down at the massive creature.
Jordan slumped down onto the boar's lifeless body to catch his breath. The fight had taken more out of him than he expected, but it was nothing he couldn't recover from. As he wiped the sweat from his brow, his gaze drifted to the marking on his arm. It had stretched even further, now creeping close to his elbow.
He only spared it a brief glance, his focus already shifting to the task at hand. After a moment, he stood, hefting the massive boar over his shoulder. The weight was significant, but his enhanced strength made it manageable.
As he trudged forward, the weight of the boar and his focus on returning to camp led him astray. Unknowingly, he wandered in the wrong direction, straying deeper into unfamiliar territory.
It wasn't until a few minutes later that he realized his mistake. He stopped in his tracks, muttering a string of curses under his breath. Shaking his head at his own carelessness, he turned to head back the way he came.
That's when he heard it—shouting in the distance.
He froze, his ears straining to catch the sound again. There it was, faint but unmistakable.
"Human voices?" he murmured, confusion and curiosity sparking in his mind.
After a moment of hesitation, he decided to investigate. The closer he got, the clearer the voices became, and his suspicions were confirmed—there were people nearby.
Jordan quickened his pace, the excitement of finally encountering other humans overwhelming any caution he might have felt. The thought of meeting people—after what felt like an eternity of solitude—pushed aside any concern, even making him forget about the massive boar slung over his shoulder.
But as he approached the source of the commotion, the scene that unfolded before him brought him to an abrupt halt.
The forest floor was littered with blood and bodies, a gruesome tapestry of violence. Goblin corpses far outnumbered the fallen humans, but the cries and screams filling the air made it clear the battle was far from over.
The living goblins still vastly outnumbered the remaining humans, their snarls and shrieks echoing in the chaos. Jordan's eyes darted between the struggling survivors, noting their ornate armor and luxurious clothing, a stark contrast to the savage appearance of the goblins.
His grip tightened on his knife, the excitement giving way to something else—a mixture of adrenaline and uncertainty. These were humans, but strangers nonetheless, and he had no idea if they would welcome his help or see him as just another threat.
He took a deep breath, steeling himself. "What the hell have I stumbled into?" he muttered. Despite his doubts, he began moving forward, his knife in hand. Whatever was happening here, he couldn't just stand by and watch.
Jordan dropped the boar unceremoniously and charged forward, his heart pounding in his chest as the scene became increasingly clear. Four carriages were scattered amidst the chaos, two of which were being fiercely defended by armored men. The crest on their armor marked them as protectors of some noble household, but the overwhelming number of goblins was proving too much for them.
The goblins seemed to have planned the ambush well, their numbers swarming the defenders. Twenty goblins against nine soldiers was a brutal mismatch, and the battlefield showed it. Blood stained the ground, and the cries of both men and monsters echoed through the trees.
Jordan's sharp eyes caught movement near the most luxurious of the carriages. A lone goblin had slipped past the distracted soldiers, its crude grin plastered across its ugly face as it wrenched open the carriage door. His pace quickened instinctively, a surge of anger rising within him.
"Not happening," he growled, gripping his knife tightly.
The chaos around him blurred as he focused on his target, pushing aside the fear and doubt that had lingered moments before. These people needed help, and for better or worse, he was going to provide it.
Jordan sprinted forward, his muscles burning as he pushed himself to his limit. Before the goblin could climb fully into the carriage, he reached it, grabbing the creature by its filthy neck. With no hesitation, he plunged his knife deep into its chest. The goblin let out a gurgled cry before going limp, its body collapsing lifelessly to the ground.
Without pausing to catch his breath, Jordan turned his attention to the chaotic battlefield. The remaining goblins were still locked in combat with the soldiers, overwhelming them with sheer numbers.
Knife in hand, Jordan charged into the fray. His movements were precise, each strike cutting down a goblin with brutal efficiency. He weaved between the soldiers and goblins, his speed and agility making him a whirlwind of death.
The soldiers' eyes widened in shock as the man in weathered, tattered clothing joined the fight. His appearance was unremarkable, but his skill with the dagger was undeniable. For a moment, confusion flickered across their faces—who was this stranger? Why was he helping them?
But those thoughts quickly faded as they realized how dire their situation was. They needed all the help they could get, and this man, whoever he was, was making a difference.
"Keep fighting!" one of the soldiers shouted, rallying his comrades as Jordan felled another goblin beside him.
Together, the tide of the battle began to shift.