The air smelled of fresh bread and woodsmoke as Chris wandered back into the heart of the village. The market was coming alive, with merchants setting up their stalls and children chasing each other through the narrow streets. The familiar clink of armor echoed nearby as a guard patrolled, offering a quick nod in Chris's direction.
Kira flitted above him, landing occasionally on signs or roof beams to get a better view. "So… what's the plan?" she asked, ruffling her feathers. "Looking to sharpen your skills, or are you hoping to find trouble?"
Chris adjusted the strap of his bag, the wooden sword thumping against his side. "A little of both. If I can pick up a job or two, I might earn some coin—and get in some real practice along the way."
They passed a baker's stall where the scent of cinnamon rolls nearly stopped Chris in his tracks. Kira gave an amused chirp. "Focus, hero. You can't fight goblins with pastries."
Chris rolled his eyes and continued walking, scanning the bustling square. His muscles still ached from training, but the adrenaline from Dorian's words lingered. He felt more ready than ever—if trouble was coming, he wanted to meet it head-on.
A notice board stood near the center of the market, covered in faded scraps of paper—advertisements, requests for help, and warnings. Chris stepped closer, scanning the postings for anything useful.
"Let's see…" he muttered, reading aloud. "'Lost sheep near the river,' 'Wanted: rat exterminator,' and… 'Missing supplies from southern farms.'" He paused, tapping the last one thoughtfully. "Sounds promising."
Kira tilted her head. "Could be linked to those goblin raids Dorian mentioned."
Chris nodded. "It's a start."
He reached for the notice, but a gruff voice cut in from behind him. "Looking to make some coin, kid?"
Chris turned to see a burly man leaning against a post, arms crossed over his barrel chest. His beard was wild and peppered with gray, and a long scar ran across his cheek. His leather armor looked well-worn, the mark of someone who had seen his share of trouble.
"You could say that," Chris replied cautiously. "Know anything about these missing supplies?"
The man grunted. "Name's Garrick. I run security for the southern farms. Supplies have been going missing for days now—tools, food, livestock. Some folks think it's goblins. I'm inclined to agree."
Chris felt a spark of interest. "You need someone to look into it?"
Garrick sized him up, his gaze lingering on the practice sword at Chris's side. "You look green, kid. Got any real experience?"
Chris straightened his shoulders. "Enough to handle goblins."
Kira cawed from her perch on the notice board. "He's tougher than he looks."
Garrick snorted. "Fair enough. You want the job, you've got it. Head south to the farms—talk to a farmer named Orla. She'll fill you in on the details."
Chris nodded, excitement bubbling in his chest. "Anything else I should know?"
"Yeah," Garrick said, his expression darkening. "If it is goblins, they're getting bolder. This far south? That's a bad sign. Keep your eyes open."
Chris thanked him, and Garrick gave a curt nod before disappearing into the crowd.
Kira hopped down onto Chris's shoulder as they left the notice board. "See? I knew we'd find something interesting."
Chris grinned. "Let's just hope it's not too interesting."
The dirt path wound through fields of tall grass, brushing against Chris's legs as he walked. His grip on the wooden practice sword was tight—not from confidence, but nerves. The weight of Dorian's words echoed in his mind: "Don't overthink it. Move like your life depends on it."
Beside him, Kira fluttered above, scanning the treetops. "You're tense," she said, landing briefly on his shoulder. "You think every shadow's out to get you?"
Chris exhaled through his nose, trying to shake off the knot of anxiety building in his chest. "I'm just… staying sharp."
Kira clicked her beak. "Sharp's good. Overthinking? Not so good."
The road ahead was quiet—too quiet. No birds, no buzzing insects, just the wind rustling through the tall grass. Chris's eyes narrowed. Something wasn't right.
Then it happened.
A sharp snap echoed from the forest line. Chris froze. Before he could react, an arrow whistled past his ear, burying itself into the dirt at his feet.
"Ambush!" Kira squawked, taking to the air.
Chris fumbled with his sword, nearly dropping it as five goblins burst from the underbrush, snarling and clutching crude weapons. They spread out, surrounding him—green bodies low to the ground, eyes glinting with malice.
His heart raced. Okay, just like we trained. Stay calm… don't panic…
The first goblin lunged with a jagged knife. Chris reacted too slowly—raising his sword just in time to block the blow, but not fast enough to counter. The impact sent a jolt through his arms, and the goblin shoved him back with a sneer.
Another one attacked from the side. Chris barely managed to swing his sword, hitting the goblin's shoulder with a clumsy strike that made it stumble but didn't stop it.
"Gotta do better than that!" Kira called, circling above.
The third goblin charged, and Chris moved instinctively—dodging to the side but stumbling on the uneven ground. He swore under his breath, struggling to keep his footing as the goblin's club grazed his ribs.
Focus… focus…
The largest goblin—the leader—barked an order, and the others pressed in. Chris's breath came fast and ragged. The fight was already getting away from him, his movements sluggish, every mistake compounding the next.
He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to remember Dorian's advice: Don't overthink—just move.
Another goblin lunged. This time, Chris swung the sword in a quick arc, catching it across the chest. The goblin snarled, staggering but still on its feet. It slashed wildly with its knife, and Chris barely blocked in time—his arms burning from the effort.
"You've got this!" Kira called from above. "Just stay moving!"
The tattooed goblin leader charged, swinging a heavy club. Chris tried to dodge, but his tired legs didn't move fast enough—the club glanced off his shoulder, sending him sprawling into the dirt.
Pain flared through his side, and for a moment, the world spun. This is bad. Really bad.
The goblin leader loomed over him, raising its club for the finishing blow. Chris scrambled to his knees, heart pounding, the weight of the sword suddenly too heavy in his hands.
Move! Don't think—just move!
He swung the sword wildly, not aiming, just desperate. The blade connected with the goblin's knee, and the creature let out a sharp yelp, stumbling backward.
Chris didn't wait. He forced himself to his feet, legs shaking, and swung again—this time hitting the goblin squarely in the side. It wasn't a perfect strike, but it was enough to knock the creature down.
Panting, Chris turned to the others. The remaining goblins hesitated, their snarls turning uncertain. One gave a high-pitched screech, and they all turned tail, disappearing into the forest as quickly as they'd come.
Chris staggered, every muscle screaming in protest. His vision blurred for a moment, and he leaned on the sword, trying to catch his breath.
"Not… bad," Kira said, landing on his shoulder with a satisfied hop. "Though you looked like a drunk squirrel for half of it."
Chris gave a breathless laugh, clutching his side. "Yeah, well… drunk squirrel wins, right?"
He stared at the spot where the goblin leader had fallen, his heart still pounding. The tattoo on the creature's arm flickered in his mind—an unsettling reminder that these goblins weren't just random raiders.
He wiped the sweat from his brow, feeling the sting of the bruises blooming across his ribs. I survived… barely. But next time? I need to be better.
Kira nudged his ear gently with her beak. "You okay?"
Chris nodded slowly, though every part of him felt like collapsing. "Yeah… but let's not make this a habit."
Kira chuckled. "You'll get the hang of it. Eventually."
Chris forced a tired grin, the adrenaline fading. "Yeah… eventually."
He straightened up, wincing as his shoulder protested. His first real fight, and he'd barely scraped through. But he'd made it—and that was something.
"Come on," Kira said, flapping her wings. "We should move before they come back with friends."
Chris nodded, adjusting his grip on the sword. His body ached, his breath was shallow, but something inside him felt different.
For the first time, the ember of power deep in his chest didn't feel quite so distant.