Mark entered his room, a knot of apprehension tightening in his stomach. He willed the survival kit card out of his inventory, its smooth surface tingling in his hand. With focused thought, he willed the kit out of the card. Leather armor materialized on the floor, its supple feel a stark contrast to the rough fabric of the standard uniform. He picked it up, the weight comforting in its familiarity.
He slipped on the armor, reveling in the protection it offered, then donned the sturdy leather boots, completing his transformation into a warrior. The water bottle, vital for any venture, found its way back into his inventory.
Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and stepped out of his room. The familiar bustle of the safe zone faded as he walked towards the edge, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Hesitation flickered across his face; a flicker quickly replaced by determination.
He had chosen to venture out alone, fueled by a desire for independence and a gnawing suspicion of the veiled motives behind the "level up" quest. While others within the dome prepared for a group hunting expedition, Mark opted to forge his own path, hoping to gather information beyond the confines of the established narrative.
He couldn't stay cooped up, waiting for the next challenge to find him. He needed answers, and the path to them lay beyond the shimmering dome that marked the boundary of the safe zone.
Hesitantly, he stepped out of the dome, the familiar hum of the protective barrier fading behind him. The silence of the forest was heavy, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant chirp of unseen birds. Gone were the sterile white walls and the harsh fluorescent lights.
Before him stretched a dense, emerald forest, sunlight filtering through the leaves in dappled patterns on the lush undergrowth. The silence, broken only by the natural sounds, was both unsettling and oddly invigorating.
He ventured forward, his senses on high alert. The air smelled of damp earth and decaying leaves, the scent a stark contrast to the antiseptic sterility of the haven he had left behind. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, sent a jolt of adrenaline through him.
He scanned his surroundings, his eyes searching for any sign of movement. The forest, with its towering trees and tangled undergrowth, seemed to whisper secrets, offering both beauty and a sense of impending danger.
As he ventured deeper, the forest seemed to change. The towering trees became more ancient and gnarled, their branches twisting and contorting like skeletal fingers reaching towards the sky. The air grew colder, and an unsettling stillness settled around him, broken only by the occasional cry of an unseen creature.
Suddenly, a sharp crack echoed through the stillness. A spear materialized from his peripheral vision, its wooden shaft glinting in the filtered sunlight. Mark reacted instinctively, twisting his body to the side as the weapon whizzed past, the wind whistling through his ear.
He dropped into a battle stance, heart pounding in his chest. Three figures emerged from the undergrowth, their emerald skin blending seamlessly with the foliage.
He spotted a flash of movement through the dense foliage, emerging from the dense undergrowth, came the first of his adversaries – a green-skinned goblin – a hulking creature, its eyes glowing like embers in the dim light. Its form was vaguely humanoid, but its skin was a sickly green, and its claws gleamed with an unnatural sheen.
Mark's mind raced. This wasn't the type of enemy he'd encountered during the initial battle. Fear threatened to paralyze him, but he forced himself to remain calm.
Mark activated Identify, a wave of information flooding his mind.
Goblin (level 2)
The goblin lunged forward; its claws aimed at Mark's chest. With a swift sidestep, Mark evaded the attack, his movements fluid and precise. But the goblin was not alone – arrows began to rain down from the treetops, forcing Mark to remain on the defensive as he dodged and parried each deadly projectile.
Amidst the chaos, two more goblins emerged from the shadows, closing in on Mark with malicious intent. The first goblin swiped again, aiming for his head. Mark parried the blow with his sword, the clang echoing through the clearing. But the respite was short-lived. He spotted another arrow flying towards him, its trajectory aimed to pierce through his unprotected side.
He used every ounce of his training, every trick he had learned, to survive. In a split second, he made a decision. He swung his sword, the blade finding purchase in the first goblin's neck. As the creature's dying gasp filled the air, its body fell like a puppet with its strings cut.
He used the fallen goblin's body as a shield, deflecting the incoming arrow. The remaining goblins surged forward, their eyes burning with feral hunger. The second goblin lunged; its spear aimed for his chest. Mark sidestepped the attack, his movement honed from countless training sessions. As he fought, he spotted arrows arcing through the air, their fletched ends glinting ominously. He narrowly dodged the first missile, his eyes darting towards the source. The goblins were relentless, their attacks relentless and coordinated. He felt his stamina waning, his muscles screaming in protest. He needed to end this fight, and fast.
But amidst the chaos of battle, Mark's focus remained unwavering. With a sharp eye and quick thinking, he calculated the trajectory of an incoming arrow, deflecting it with a well-timed strike before swiftly retaliating with a counterattack of his own, he used the goblin spear from the first goblin as a javelin. Time seemed to slow down as he hurled the weapon with all his might. It flew in a perfect arc, finding its mark in the unseen archer's throat. A choked cry pierced the air, followed by the thud of a body hitting the forest floor.
With renewed hope, Mark pressed his attack on the two remaining goblins. He feigned a leftward thrust, then lunged to the right, his blade finding its mark in the creature's leg. The goblin howled in pain, its grip on its spear slackening. Before it could react, Mark was upon him, his sword flashing in the dappled sunlight. The goblin raised its spear in a desperate attempt to block, but the blow was too quick, too precise. Mark's blade found its mark, sending the creature crashing to the ground, its life extinguished.
But the final goblin remained undeterred, pressing forward with renewed aggression. Moving with newfound urgency, Mark darted towards the forest, using the trees for cover. He snatched another spear as he ran, his muscles burning with exertion. The forest echoed with the sounds of the chase, the adrenaline coursing through his veins fueling his every movement. He turned, throwing the spear with the same deadly precision, the weapon finding its mark in the remaining goblin's leg.
The creature howled in pain, its grip on its spear slackening. Before it could react, Mark was upon ...him, driving his own sword through the goblin's chest in a single, swift motion. The creature crumpled to the ground, its green blood staining the forest floor.
Silence descended once more, broken only by Mark's ragged breaths. He stood there, chest heaving, his body trembling from the exertion. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing in his ears. The adrenaline that had fueled him through the fight slowly ebbed away, leaving behind a bone-deep weariness.
He surveyed the scene of the battle, the bodies of the fallen goblins lying sprawled amongst the ferns and fallen leaves. He felt a pang of nausea rise in his throat as he realized the reality of what he had done. Taking a life, even a creature like these goblins, was a weight he hadn't anticipated carrying.
But the moment of self-doubt was fleeting. He had been forced to fight, to defend himself from these relentless attackers. He clutched the hilt of his sword, the cool metal grounding him as he took another deep breath, forcing himself to focus.
The scent of blood, metallic and acrid, hung heavy in the air. Mark, panting and weary from his previous fight, rummaged through the slain goblins' meager belongings, finding only what appeared to be dried meat rations. With a grimace, he willed them into his inventory, a small comfort in the face of the danger that still lurked in the forest.
Amidst the clanging of steel and the desperate cries of his goblin opponents, he had barely registered the soft chime of notifications. Now, as a semblance of calm settled, the messages flooded his vision. Lines of congratulations for defeating the goblins scrolled before him, each accompanied by a 300XP gain for each goblin.
He glanced at his status window, the numbers reflecting the toll of the fight. His experience bar hovered just above the halfway mark to level 2, a meager consolation for the depletion of his health and stamina. But before he could dwell further, a deep, guttural growl resonated through the trees, sending shivers down his spine.
Mark froze, the world seeming to stand still around him. His heart pounded against his ribs like a trapped bird, a frantic rhythm that mirrored the hammering in his ears. He took a deep breath, trying to force himself to focus, to think. He knew, with chilling certainty, that running wouldn't be enough.
Without bothering to turn, he took off in a desperate sprint, his mind racing for a solution. He could hear the pounding of heavy paws on the forest floor, gaining on him with unnerving speed. He felt a rush of warm air past his head, instinctively throwing himself forward and rolling to the side. He landed hard on his shoulder; the air momentarily knocked out of his lungs.
As he lay there, gasping for breath, a monstrous gray wolf loomed above him. Its eyes, cold and intelligent, gleamed with predatory hunger. He scrambled to his feet, raising his sword in a shaky defense. This wasn't a goblin. This, he realized with a jolt of fear, was a fight for his life.
He activated Identify, but the information offered little comfort. Alpha Wolf (lvl 7). It stood far above him in terms of level, its speed and power likely unmatched by anything he had encountered before. He knew brute force wouldn't win this fight. He needed his wits, his agility, anything but his meager strength.
Desperate for an edge, he poured his five unallocated stat points into perception. It was a gamble, He hoped, with a fervent intensity, that it would be enough to give him the slightest chance against this apex predator.