As soon as they saw the message hanging in the air, as if conjured by some dark magic, Lyerin's mind went into overdrive. His eyes scanned the ground below, searching for the right spot.
Mud.
He needed mud.
It would be the best camouflage for now.
He assessed the terrain, noting the different patches of earth.
Over there, near the tree roots, the mud was too thick and lumpy—it would crack and fall off easily. But just a few feet to the left, where the forest floor dipped slightly, the mud was smoother, more pliable.
That would stick better, cover more thoroughly.
Lyerin knelt and scooped up a handful of the chosen mud, spreading it across his skin with deliberate, practiced movements. His internal monologue was a steady stream of tactical considerations.
This mud is just the right consistency. It will dry but stay flexible enough to move without flaking off.
Better than that lumpy mess. He continued, methodically covering himself until he was a part of the forest floor.
The others watched him, their faces a mix of confusion and apprehension.
Noticing their stares, Lyerin looked up. "Military tactics," he said curtly, his tone brooking no argument. It was enough for them.
They exchanged glances, then bent down to follow his example.
The message had been clear: danger was imminent.
If covering themselves in mud increased their chances of survival, they would do it.
Lyerin's mind continued to race.
They didn't have time for mistakes. He didn't care if his actions saved the others, as long as they didn't slow him down.
As he worked, he heard the first distant shrieks, growing louder, more numerous. His heart rate remained steady.
Panic was a luxury he couldn't afford.
"To the trees," he commanded in a low voice, barely above a whisper. "Stay covered in mud and spread out. Don't get too close to each other. If one of you gets caught, I don't want to be implicated."
Without hesitation, the group moved, spreading out as instructed.
Lyerin found a tree with thick, low-hanging branches and positioned himself beneath it, the mud blending him seamlessly into the background.
The others found their own hiding spots, each face etched with fear and confusion.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, Lyerin saw a notification.
Ding!
[ Would like to level up camouflage? ]
Lyerin was surprised, he was tempted, as he was about to decide what to do, but he was interrupted.
The ground began to thump with an ominous rhythm, growing louder with each passing second.
Soon, several creatures emerged from the underbrush.
They were shrews, grotesquely distorted to stand on two legs.
Some were slim, their skin taut over wiry frames, while others had distended bellies that jiggled with each step.
Their clothing was tattered and worn, barely enough to cover their privates, adding to their ghastly appearance. And all of them saw a health bar above the creatures heads.
[ Goblin Shrews
[ Level 5.
[ … ]
Lyerin, half-submerged in the mud, watched intently. "Goblin shrews," he mumbled to himself.
The legends of these creatures flashed through his mind.
Once, they had traded their keen sense of smell to lower their high metabolic rate, leaving them with poor eyesight and no olfactory sense.
A cruel bargain, one that had turned them into grotesque predators.
Usually, in the wild, they are high-level predators, but with their level the same as them now, Lyerin knew they had been released by the Borgia Family for them Earthlings.
The goblin shrews began to communicate in their guttural, incomprehensible language, their leader gesturing for them to search the area.
Lyerin held his breath, his muscles taut as he prepared for the worst.
After that, another notification appeared.
Ding!
[ Would like to level up Goblin Shrews language understanding? ]
Lyerin swallowed his saliva.
Obviously, no!
Meanwhile, the creatures spread out, their movements erratic but purposeful. Despite their poor eyesight, they had a predator's instinct.
Lyerin could see the tension etched on the faces of his fellow Earthlings, despite their mud-covered disguises.
Every slight movement, every rustle of leaves, made their eyes widen with fear. He couldn't blame them; the stakes were life and death. He watched as a goblin shrew passed perilously close to one of the younger men, who was doing his best to remain still.
The creature paused, sniffing the air futilely, then moved on.
The search felt interminable.
Lyerin's mind was a whirl of calculated risks and potential outcomes. He knew that any mistake, any noise, could spell their end.
The goblin shrews moved slowly, methodically, poking and prodding at the underbrush.
One of them even climbed a tree, scanning the area with its beady, unfocused eyes.
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours.
Finally, the leader of the goblin shrews called them back with a series of sharp, guttural commands.
They regrouped, muttering amongst themselves.
They hadn't found anything. Lyerin's heart rate remained steady, his breathing controlled.
Slowly, the goblin shrews began to retreat, disappearing back into the underbrush.
Lyerin didn't move, not until he was certain they were gone.
The forest fell silent again, the oppressive atmosphere lifting slightly. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, he could even feel his muscles slowly unclenching.
Lyerin did not move for a long time, and neither did the others.
The silence was heavy in the air and he preferred to let it be, each second stretching out interminably. But then, after a few more seconds, they began to stir.
Panic surged through Lyerin bulging bloody veins on his forehead as he saw some of the others attempting to rise.
"Get back down!" he signaled frantically with his body language, using exaggerated motions to convey the urgency of his command.
Most of them understood and froze immediately. However, a few had mud caked on their ears and didn't hear him.
They continued to move, oblivious to the danger.
To their horror, one of the creatures suddenly reappeared.
"Eurk!?"
It stood there, its beady eyes scanning the area, its grotesque body silhouetted against the dim light.
Time seemed to freeze.
Lyerin's mind buzzed with implications, weighing his options, calculating risks.
The creature's gaze lingered, and Lyerin could feel every heartbeat pounding in his chest.
Without warning, Lyerin bolted from his hiding spot. His left hand began to transform mid-motion, morphing into a claw-like appendage reminiscent of a demonic ibex beast. His muscles tensed, his focus sharpened.
He aimed for a swift, lethal strike.
But he was too late.
The creature's lungs expanded, drawing in a deep breath.
And to his horror, it let out a resounding shriek that pierced the air, echoing through the forest.
"Eyaaaaurrrrkkkk!!!"
The alarm was raised.
Lyerin didn't hesitate.
Even as the shriek rang out, he launched himself at the creature, his clawed hand poised to strike.
With a fluid motion, he wrapped his demonic hand around the creature's throat, his grip vice-like.
The creature struggled, its limbs flailing wildly, trying to reach for his hand. But Lyerin tightened his hold, feeling the creature's windpipe compress under his grip.
The beast's shrieks turned to gurgles as it fought for breath. He maintained his composure, using his strength and precision to choke the life out of it.
His mind was a torrent of thoughts as he executed the maneuver.
Choke it out, cut off its air. Don't let it draw another breath.
His left hand, now a powerful claw, squeezed tighter, his fingers digging into the creature's flesh.
It buckled and twisted, but Lyerin held firm, his body moving with the creature's struggles, absorbing and countering its movements with practiced ease.
Finally, the creature's resistance weakened.
Its eyes bulged, its limbs twitched, and with one final convulsion, it went limp.
Lyerin maintained his grip for a few more seconds, ensuring the creature was truly lifeless before he released it, letting its body slump to the ground.
Suddenly, a series of notifications appeared before him in the air, translucent and shimmering:
[ Ding!
[ Would you like to level up your sprint? ]
[ Ding!
[ Would you like to level up your choking skill? ]
[ Ding!
[ Would you like to level up your surprise attack? ]
[ Ding!
[ Would you like to level up your lethality on Goblin Shrews? ]
More notifications continued to pop up, each one offering him the chance to enhance the skills he had just used:
[ Ding!
[ Would you like to level up your refle
xes? ]
[ Ding!
[ Would you like to level up your precision strike? ]
[ Ding!
[ Would you like to level up your hand-to-hand combat? ]
[ Ding!
[ Would you like to level up your endurance? ]