The next morning, Finn woke up early, the soft sounds of the cave filling his ears—snoring goblins, the crackle of a dying fire, and the faint drip of water from the cave walls. He pushed himself up from his makeshift bed, still sore but determined. Today would be his second day of hunting, and he was ready to push himself further.
As Finn stretched, preparing for the day ahead, he heard two goblins speaking nearby. Hidden in the shadows, Finn instinctively stilled and listened.
"Have you checked your status? I'm getting close to evolving," grunted the goblin on the left, a wiry creature with scars lining his arms.
The one beside him, slightly larger and wielding a crude club, snorted. "Hah! You're lucky. I still need ten levels before I can evolve."
Finn blinked, confused. Status? Evolve? The words bounced around in his head, stirring up questions. What were they talking about? How did they know how many levels they needed to evolve? More importantly, why didn't he know how to check his own status?
His thoughts raced as he mulled over their conversation. I need to figure this out. If this "status" helps them get stronger, I need to know how to access mine too.
Not knowing who else to turn to, Finn's eyes flicked toward the far end of the cave where the elder sat slumped in his rickety chair, gnawing absentmindedly on a piece of bone. The elder's cloudy eyes were still sharp in their own way, and despite his frailty, he exuded an aura of authority.
Making up his mind, Finn walked over, his footsteps echoing softly against the stone. As he approached, the elder lazily tilted his head, his wrinkled face breaking into a crooked grin.
"Well, runt, you again?" the elder rasped, his voice like grinding gravel. "Did you bring me something, or are you here to waste my time?"
Finn shook his head, nerves making his voice falter. "I… I need to ask you something, Elder."
The elder raised a thin, jagged eyebrow. "Speak."
Finn swallowed hard before continuing. "The other goblins… they were talking about checking their status and evolving. How do they know these things? How can I check mine?"
At this, the elder let out a dry, wheezing laugh, the sound echoing through the quiet parts of the cave. He coughed once, smacked his lips, and leaned forward slightly in his chair. "Ah, so you've heard of the status. Took you long enough."
Finn clenched his fists. "I don't know how it works. I just—no one told me. I want to know."
The elder's milky eyes regarded him with something that might have been amusement, or pity—it was hard to tell. "You must be a special kind of fool, runt. You've killed something, haven't you? That means your system has already activated. All you have to do is focus your mind and call for it."
"Call for it?" Finn repeated, confused.
The elder leaned back with a groan, clearly done explaining. "Think it. Will it. Say it. Do whatever gets it through your thick skull. It's your status—you figure it out."
Finn frowned but nodded, backing away from the elder, who had already lost interest in the conversation and resumed gnawing on his bone. He walked back to a quieter corner of the cave, sitting down as his mind raced. Focus my mind? Call for it? It sounded ridiculous, but in a world where goblins could evolve and systems existed, maybe it wasn't so far-fetched.
Taking a deep breath, Finn closed his eyes. He tried to clear his mind of everything—the noise, the smell of the cave, the aches in his body. He focused inward, thinking hard about the words the goblins had used.
"Status," he whispered under his breath.
Suddenly, something clicked.
A sharp chime rang out in his mind, like the sound of a notification, and an invisible window appeared before his eyes, glowing faintly in the darkness. Finn's eyes widened as he stared at the ethereal screen.
---
[Status Window]
Name: Finn (Muck)
Race: Goblin (Infant)
XP: 1/5
Strength: 2
Durability: 3
Agility: 3
Intelligence: 4
Wisdom: 4
Skills: None
---
Finn stared at the window in awe, his heart pounding in his chest. It was real. The system was real. And he could see it all laid out before him—his stats, his level, even his experience points. It all made sense now. The goblins weren't just talking nonsense; they were keeping track of their progress, their growth.
But as he stared at the numbers, Finn felt a flicker of disappointment. His stats were weak. His health was low, his strength was pitiful, and he had no skills at all. He was at the very bottom.
Still, something about seeing it filled him with determination. This was proof that he could get stronger, proof that he wasn't stuck as the weakest runt forever.
Closing the window with a thought, Finn stood up, clenching his fists. Alright, he thought, I've got a long way to go, but now I know where I stand. It's time to level up.
Today's hunt wouldn't just be for survival—it would be the first step toward becoming something more.
Thinking this, Finn once again tightened his grip on the crude knife in his hand, its rough cloth wrapping biting into his palm. The blade, no more than a sharpened shard of stone, felt heavier than it had the day before—but this time, it wasn't because of doubt. It was because of determination. He had seen his status, his weak numbers staring back at him like a challenge, and he knew that if he wanted to survive—if he wanted to grow stronger—he couldn't let fear or hesitation hold him back.
Taking a deep breath, Finn turned toward the cave's entrance, where pale light filtered in, cutting through the ever-present mustiness of the goblin den. He glanced back once, at the dim, chaotic place he had begun to call home, and then stepped forward. His small figure vanished into the light, ready to face the forest beyond. This time, he was hunting not just for food, but for progress.