As the battle faded into the distance, the air thick with the scent of blood and the crackle of fire, Finn's heart swelled with pride. He glanced around at the group, noting the quiet satisfaction in their faces. They had fought well, and they had won—no small feat in the deadly wilds they were navigating. His thoughts flickered back to the moments of chaos during the battle. The satisfying feeling of sinking his knife into a Cobalt warrior's side, the thrill of unleashing powerful bursts of magic that sent enemies flying. He had faced them head-on, and he had emerged victorious, even taking down a Cobalt champion.
It was the kind of battle that would define a goblin's life. And Finn? He had proven himself worthy.
The red-skinned leader, Krokk, barked orders as they marched deeper into the forest, the familiar tension of the hunt still hanging in the air. As the sun began to dip beneath the horizon, casting a deep orange glow over the trees, Krokk signaled for them to stop. The group settled into their usual routine of camp-making—gathering wood, setting up makeshift shelters, and preparing for the night.
Finn, feeling the satisfaction of the day's victory, wandered off toward a small fallen tree nearby. He extended his hand, focusing his energy. The familiar warmth of his fire magic surged through him, a comforting, almost instinctual feeling. A burst of flame ignited at the base of the tree, quickly catching the dry branches and spreading. Within moments, the crackling fire illuminated the surrounding area, casting long shadows that danced across the faces of his comrades.
He returned to the fire, where a few goblins were already gathered, chatting quietly among themselves. They were talking about the day's events, exchanging stories of battles fought and enemies slain. Finn joined in, the crackling fire adding to the warmth of the conversation. He listened intently, absorbing everything he could. He learned more about the group—how they had all been part of Krokk's warband for some time now, and how each of them had their own stories of survival in the brutal world they inhabited.
Krokk himself remained a bit of a mystery. The others spoke of him with a mix of fear and respect, the way one might speak of a force of nature. Finn learned that Krokk's name was more than just a name—it was a title. In the goblin language, it meant strength, a fitting name for a leader who commanded such fearsome respect. His leadership was marked not by words, but by action. Finn could see it in the way Krokk moved—like a boulder rolling through the forest, unstoppable and deliberate.
As the conversation died down and the goblins drifted to their resting places, Finn found his own small pile of leaves—a makeshift bed he had claimed for the night. He sank down onto it, the exhaustion of the day creeping into his bones. But before he allowed sleep to take him, he pulled out his status window, eager to see how much he had grown.
He looked at the numbers with growing astonishment.
[Status Window]
Name: Finn (Muck)
Race: Hobgoblin Mage
XP: 42/50
Strength: 6
Durability: 7
Agility: 8
Intelligence: 15
Wisdom: 12
Skills: [Leap] [Fire] [Arcane Blast] [Barrier] [Elemental Mastery]
He was almost there—almost ready for his next evolution. Forty-two experience points. In one day. He had killed multiple Cobalt warriors, including a champion. He had unlocked new powers—skills that made him stronger, faster, and more dangerous. His fire magic had become second nature to him, his ability to conjure Arcane Blasts and barriers far beyond what it had been when he first entered the forest. The Elemental Mastery skill stood out, its potential a tantalizing promise of even greater power to come.
Finn sat back, staring at the screen for a long moment, his mind racing. It was hard to believe that only a few days ago, he had been a mere goblin, lacking the strength to fend for himself. Now, he was a Hobgoblin Mage, standing shoulder to shoulder with the likes of Krokk and the other goblins. But the more he thought about it, the clearer it became—this power came with a price. It wasn't just about killing enemies or gaining XP. The real strength came from the experiences, the battles fought, and the lessons learned in the chaos of the world around him.
And Krokk... Finn understood now why he was so strong. It wasn't just about brute force. It was about understanding your environment, knowing when to strike, and when to hold back. Krokk's power wasn't just physical; it was a reflection of his mind, his experience, and his cunning.
Finn clenched his fists, his heart pounding in anticipation. There was still so much for him to learn, so much for him to become. But today, he had proven that he was on the right path.
He closed his status window and stretched out on his pile of leaves, pulling the thin blanket over himself. The fire crackled in the distance, the sound a comforting lullaby as sleep slowly began to take him.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new opportunities to grow. And Finn was ready.
---------------------------------------
The early morning stillness was shattered by a sharp, jarring noise—something between a snap and a growl, echoing from the darkness beyond the camp. Every goblin in the camp immediately snapped awake, their eyes darting in the direction of the sound, their hands instinctively reaching for weapons. All except for Finn. His exhaustion from the previous day's battle and the warmth of the fire had lulled him into a deep sleep.
But the moment the scream cut through the air, it dragged Finn from his slumber. His eyes snapped open, and for a heartbeat, his mind was sluggish—dazed, confused, and unsure of what was happening. The scream echoed again, this time full of pain and fury, a sound that was unmistakably one of death.
Finn jolted upright, his heart pounding in his chest as he instinctively reached for his knife. His surroundings were still hazy, the world not fully in focus. He blinked, trying to clear the grogginess, and then he saw it.
Krokk was standing in the middle of the camp, his broad red figure silhouetted against the dim light of the early dawn. At his feet lay the limp body of a Cobalt warrior, blood pooling beneath it. The warrior's eyes were wide with shock, its mouth still agape in a silent scream. Krokk was standing over the corpse, his massive frame towering, a knife in hand, blood staining its steel.
Finn's mind was catching up with the situation. The Cobalt Clan had attempted to assassinate Krokk in the night, sneaking into the camp like silent predators, hoping to catch him unawares. But they had underestimated the strength of the red-skinned leader.
Krokk was calm, methodical even, as he wiped the blade clean on the grass before looking around at his warband, his eyes scanning each of them with sharp focus. "Stay alert," he commanded in a low growl. "The Cobalt Clan is desperate. This is just the beginning."
The goblins around the camp had already sprung into action, weapons in hand, ready for whatever came next. They quickly surrounded the camp, forming a tight perimeter, their eyes scanning the shadows for any more threats.
Finn was still a bit dazed, his mind trying to catch up with the gravity of the situation. But the sight of Krokk, standing victorious over the Cobalt assassin, stirred something deep inside him. The leader had been ambushed, but he had dispatched the threat with ease. The others may have been startled, but Krokk had handled the situation with the cold, precise strength that made him a leader.
As Finn stood up, trying to shake off his disorientation, he saw the bodies of more Cobalt warriors scattered around the camp. The fight was quick and brutal, a warning to anyone who would dare cross Krokk and his warband. It was a harsh reminder that in these woods, danger was always lurking just beyond the firelight.
Krokk walked over to the corpse, crouching down to inspect it with a critical eye. "This one was sent by the Cobalt Clan's leaders," he muttered under his breath. "A bold move, but a foolish one." He stood up, his gaze sweeping over his warband. "Prepare yourselves. They will come for us again."
Finn, still catching his breath, felt a rising sense of urgency. The world outside the camp was a dangerous one, and he had already seen just how ruthless the Cobalt Clan could be. The ambush had been a close call, but it was clear that Krokk was no ordinary leader. His strength, his awareness, and his quick thinking had turned the tide before anyone had even fully woken up.
A small flicker of fear passed through Finn's mind, but it was quickly replaced by a burning desire to be stronger, to be more like Krokk. The way the leader had handled the situation—calm, unshaken, and deadly—was the kind of power Finn yearned to possess.
"Get ready," Krokk said, his voice cutting through the tension that still hung in the air. "We move at first light. The Cobalt Clan won't let this go easily."
Finn nodded, feeling the weight of the moment settling in. This was no longer just a test of survival. This was a test of loyalty, of strength, and of cunning. Krokk was the one leading them into the fire, and Finn had to prove he was worthy of following him.
As the goblins prepared to break camp, Finn's thoughts turned inward. He wasn't just a Hobgoblin Mage anymore. After yesterday's battle, he had proven that he had the potential to be more than just a pawn in someone else's war. He had fought with magic, with agility, and with heart. But to survive in this world, to prove himself to Krokk and the others, he would need more than just skill.
He would need strength. And strength wasn't something you could learn overnight.
But it was something he was determined to earn.