Jordan reached his camp not too long ago.
Now, he sat in front of the cold and lifeless campfire, the faint smell of ash lingering in the air. The leather bag he had been given rested on his lap as he carefully inspected its contents.
Inside were several items: a small pouch of silver and copper coins, a basic set of clean clothing—much sturdier than what he currently wore—and a few dried rations. What caught his attention the most, however, was a small green crystal tucked into the corner of the bag.
He held it up to the fading sunlight, its surface shimmering faintly as if alive. He recalled how Sir Cedric had used a similar crystal to heal his wounds.
"So, this is what they call a healing crystal," Jordan muttered to himself, turning it over in his fingers. He couldn't help but wonder how it worked and how many lives could be saved—or lost—depending on who wielded it.
Satisfied, he packed the items back into the bag and set it aside. His gaze drifted to the boar he had brought back. It would take time to butcher it properly, but at least he wouldn't have to worry about food for a while.
"Not bad for one day," he murmured, leaning back against the tree behind him. His thoughts lingered on the events of the day—the fight, the noble entourage, and the golden badge now tucked safely into his pocket.
He couldn't help but wonder: was this encounter a fleeting moment in his journey, or the start of something much bigger?
Jordan had thought about asking for the goblin cores during the encounter, but it had felt too insensitive at the time. After all, the soldiers had just lost several comrades, and he didn't even know what the cores were used for yet.
"But oh well," he muttered to himself, dismissing the thought for now.
As he leaned back, he remembered the map. He retrieved it from the leather bag, unfolding the worn parchment carefully. With a quick glance, he was able to pinpoint his approximate location. Just as they had said, the map wasn't super detailed, but it was enough for him to work with.
His eyes scanned the area until they landed on a marked location—Emberfall. Judging by the distance, he estimated it would take about two days to reach if he traveled on foot.
"Maybe in the future, I might take up your offer, Sir Cedric," he said with a small smile, tucking the map back into his bag.
The idea of venturing to Emberfall intrigued him. It wasn't just the promise of civilization, but also the chance to learn more about this strange world he found himself in. For now, though, his focus was survival.
Jordan stood, stretching his arms above his head. He had a boar to prepare, a campfire to reignite, and plans to consider.
After a laborious process and and a not so good job, he was done. He took of his old clothes and with the fire at it's peak he threw them in. This was his way of letting go of his past.
After a laborious process and a not-so-perfect job, Jordan finally finished skinning and preparing the boar. Exhausted but satisfied, he sat down for a moment to catch his breath.
The sight of his tattered, weathered clothes caught his eye. They were a symbol of the struggles and hardships he had faced up to this point. Slowly, he stripped out of them, the fabric stiff and worn from his time in the forest.
With the fire roaring at its peak, he stared at the bundle of clothes in his hands for a long moment. Then, without hesitation, he tossed them into the flames.
As the fire consumed the tattered remnants of his old life, Jordan felt an unexpected sense of release. This was more than just burning old clothes—this was him letting go of the person he once was.
The flames danced and crackled, lighting up his face as he muttered softly, "No looking back."
But his gaze shifted to the weapon in his hand. He no longer considered it a simple knife—it had grown beyond that. He recalled overhearing the soldiers refer to it as a dagger, and as he examined it now, he had to agree.
The blade was longer, sharper, and more refined than when he first found it. It seemed to radiate an almost imperceptible energy, a subtle reminder of the cores it had absorbed.
"Not just a knife anymore," he muttered to himself, turning it over in his hand. The weight felt perfect, like an extension of his arm—a weapon forged by the strange circumstances of this world.
This dagger had become a part of him, a symbol of his survival and the power he'd begun to uncover. "Maybe I need to give you a name," Jordan murmured with a faint smile, before setting it aside to rest.
.....
After resting for a bit, Jordan mulled over the idea of heading out again to hunt more monsters. His eyes drifted back to the map. It marked general locations where monsters were most commonly seen, and his attention was drawn to a name he hadn't come across before: Dire Wolves.
"Too far to check out today," he thought, noting the distance. It would be impossible to go there and return to camp before nightfall. Then he recalled Sir Cedric mentioning the area was swarming with them.
"Maybe that's a journey for tomorrow," he decided, setting the thought aside for now.
But something else caught his attention on the map—a troubling detail. The goblins were marked as inhabiting an area near the river, which aligned with the direction he'd been encountering them. However, the attack on the carriages had taken place far from that area, almost unnaturally so.
Jordan frowned. Not only were they farther from their usual territory, but they coordinated an ambush on a noble escort—Duke Greystone's daughter, no less.
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Something's not right," he muttered. Goblins weren't known for advanced tactics or leaving their usual grounds without reason. This felt calculated, organized even.
His mind churned with possibilities, unease creeping into his thoughts. Whatever the goblins were up to, it was bigger than just random attacks. He needed to stay alert. Something was amiss, and he couldn't afford to be caught off guard.
Jordan stood, brushing off stray leaves and dirt from his fresh clothes. It felt oddly satisfying to be in clean, properly fitted garments again—a small but welcome comfort in this harsh world.
He packed the remaining items into his shelter for safekeeping, leaving only the essentials: the empty leather bag, his dagger, and the crude knife he'd taken from the first goblin he encountered. The weapons hung comfortably at his side, a reassuring weight that reminded him of the strength he'd gained.
Today, his mission was simple but important. He was going to investigate the source of the goblins' peculiar behavior—their attacks too far from their usual territory and their bold ambush on the Duke's entourage. Something was clearly off.
Still, he reminded himself of the plan. "I'll observe. No engaging if they're in large numbers," he muttered under his breath. He couldn't afford unnecessary risks, not yet.
With that, Jordan set off, his steps quiet but deliberate as he made his way toward the river where the goblins were said to inhabit.