“GRAAAAGHHHH!”

The Chief swung its head around, blood dripping from its back. The goblin’s eyes, normally red, had turned a darker shade and were leaking.

He dashed left, then right. The Chief stumbled at his sudden direction change but managed to stretch out an arm and knock Dakota over. He narrowly avoided having his neck crushed by the grasping hand.

He hooked a branch with his hoe, converting his falling momentum into a swing that sent him running into the brush.

He burst into his scouting base. Scooping coals from the fire, he shook them down his shirt and pants. The blue fire didn’t burn him but it sure burnt everything else. It only took a moment for his clothes to light up, turning him into a living torch.

He screamed, injecting as much raw emotion as he could. The small goblins scampering into the clearing hesitated. The sight of a screaming human engulfed in blue fire appeared to make even the stouthearted among their ranks reconsider.

The Chief bounded into the clearing.

“KILL HIM.”

The big goblin didn’t wait for his subordinates as he charged at Dakota.

Fear gripped him as the immense creature closed the distance. If this is what matadors had to deal with, he couldn’t help but respect their courage. Or idiocy. He was only here because he had to be.

He ducked left, going under the Chief’s reaching hand while arcing his hoe behind him as he passed. He needed to bleed this bugger out. The hoe wasn’t a great tool for that but options were slim.

The chief turn and charged again. Dakota went to duck right but dropped as the Chief abruptly halted, snatching the air where his head had been. He rolled, avoiding a devastating stomp and had just regained his feet when a meaty fist blasted him in the ribs. His feet left the ground as every ounce of air exploded from his lungs.

He scrabbled, trying to draw air as he avoid the follow-up punch. Okay, new plan. Get the freak out of here.

He stabbed the hoe upwards, cranking the Chief on the nose before drawing his knife and slipping forward. As the big goblin clutched its face, he slammed the knife into its gut and wrenched down. Blood poured from the jagged cut as Dakota sawed. He could end it here if he got the blade deep enough.

He didn’t see the uppercut. Spitting blood, he blinked stars from his eyes. He still had the knife. The Chief was clutching its side as it lumbered toward him.

“Now fleshbag dies.”

He ate another punch to the chest which slammed him against a tree. He gripped the knife, lungs screaming at him. He leaned away from a punch aimed at his head and heard it crunch into the bark. With a last burst of strength, he twisted away from the tree and slammed the knife into the big goblin’s hand, pinning it to the tree.

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The Chief roared, spittle flying as it turned baleful eyes on Dakota.

“Flesh bag will PAY. Fleshbag will BUUURN.”

The small goblins were terrified and left him alone as he scooped his hoe and ran into the bush as fast as his failing body could carry him.

Dakota stumbled into the field of his first battle with the goblins. His ribs ached with every breath and he wasn’t able to draw deeply without a sharp pain in his right side. He hoped it was only a cracked rib. If his lung was punctured, he was done.

The goblin chief hadn’t followed…yet. It felt inevitable that he would need to fight the creature again which sent tremors through his spine. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, he realized how close he had come to death. Possible scenarios of him dying ran through his mind as he approached the house.

“Death by pulverization, death by blunt force trauma, death by dismemberment.”

Too many scenarios were coming to mind. He had counted on the goblin chief being slow. How wrong he had been. The Chief had turned into a muscle-bound beast…somehow. He had decided to stop taking things for granted weeks ago but this renewed his motivation to take nothing at face value.

Dakota stopped on the deck.

“Jesus, you here buddy?”

He could feel the tether leading onto the deck but couldn’t see the lamb. A light clacking from above caught his attention.

He stepped onto the grass in front of the house. Jesus side-eyed him from the roof.

“But…..how?”

“Bahh.”

Shaking his head, he limped to the edge of the roof and held out his arms. Jesus promptly jumped into them and nuzzled his charred shirt.

“Nice to see you as well.”

He rested the lamb across his shoulders and pulled up a bucket of water from the well.

The goblin chief had intended on killing him no matter the circumstance of their conversation. He had hoped that a little civil conversation could have reduced tensions but in retrospect, that was a horribly naive idea. The goblins hadn’t done anything other than try and kill him since he arrived, why would they change now?

Which meant he would end up fighting them again. Scowling, Dakota splashed cool water over himself.

He wasn’t fast enough. A single punch had nearly ended his life. He couldn’t afford to eat any blows. How could he get faster… he could go on more jogs, maybe toss in a few sets of pushups but that didn’t really address the issue.

Dakota was inexperienced in combat. Especially the kind of combat where one mistake could result in his death. He scratched Jesus under the chin as his eyes wandered the yard. They fell on the crater leading to the tunnel.

“Ah, crap.”

He had an answer for his training…but he didn’t like it.”

The obstacle course of death would probably be the best place to train his speed in the world. Nothing like being incinerated to make you pick up your feet.

But not for today. He rooted up a potato which he chewed on as he clambered into the tunnel, Jesus still draped across his shoulders.

Pressing his hand into the circle on door “1”, he shuffled inside. The goblins would probably attack tonight and he wanted a solid sleep before having to tango with them again. Looks like Mr. Skeleton would be having company for the night.

Bunching his shirt up, he laid down as Jesus cuddled against his chest. Let the training start…tomorrow.

[Frontier Farmer Level 12]

[New Skill - Battle Hoe]