The Goblin Scout smirked at a spot above my head.

I couldn’t imagine what he looked at, but the health meter hovering over his head provided a clue.

He could see how much damage he dealt to me. Which meant he knew he only needed two more good blows to finish me off.

I was down to a dagger, a single throwing knife, and a handful of monster cores. The latter two were useless to me at the moment. What else did I have?

Definitely not time.

The goblin rushed forward at the first hint of hesitation. I backpedaled and shoved my hand into my pockets. Something wet fell into my palm, and I tossed it as a form of distraction.

The goblin skidded to a stop. “Is that cousin Lagruth? Is that my cousin?”

Who the hell was Lagruth? I wanted to say, until I glanced at what I had thrown.

It was a tattered goblin ear.

The Goblin Scout gasped and fell to his knees. He cradled the ear, then glared at me with a look of such rage, I nearly crapped my pants.

“You killed him?” he choked. “You killed my cousin?”

Oh, hell. This was one of the two goblins who had earlier pursued me. The one who had been first to return. “Would you believe me if I said I didn’t kill him?”

The goblin blinked. “What?”

“Maybe your cousin tripped and fell on my dagger? Freak accident, but weirder stuff has happened.”

“Bastard!” He swung at my throat.

His knife blurred with the speed of the swing, but the goblin had gifted me a head start by way of telegraphing. For a half second, I considered parrying the blow. But, a small voice warned in my head that my Lesser Strength probably couldn’t manage it.

I ducked instead, causing the goblin to tear a long gash across a hapless tree trunk. I plunged The Blackreach Dagger as I fell into his foot. Shadows sprouted from the blade, dark and dangerous, but they ultimately failed to pierce the skin-deep protections offered by health.

The goblin jumped with a yowl and kicked me clean across the face. Mini-explosions went off in my head. My health meter plummeted by another third, and—goddammit, why was I being pushed around by someone half my size?

A stream of expletives escaped the goblin’s mouth as he snatched The Blackreach Dagger from the ground. Health armor had prevented his wounding but did nothing for the pain.

More importantly, I’d dealt fair damage to his HP. Three more strikes, and I could draw a second mouth across his throat.

“Boss!” a goblin cried, racing toward us. “Run away! The elf woman—”

He didn’t finish his words. An arrow punctured his chest, cutting off the rest of his warning. Only now did I notice that the rest of the party had scattered. Judging from the screams that followed, Mavari was hunting them.

The level 16 goblin stared at the grisly sight of his fallen comrade with wide eyes.

I didn’t even think.

I grabbed the throwing knife and ran straight for him. He turned to meet me, but I was already within reach. [Fear Aura] flared.

Goblin Scout is in a state of panic. Mental resistance has thus been lowered.

[Fear Aura] has taken root.

You have afflicted Goblin Scout with [Dismay]!

To the goblin’s credit, he managed to deflect my strike despite the turn of events. He wielded The Blackreach Dagger much better than I did. But, I wore the mantle of Fear.

I flicked the throwing knife into his face, and then, just as he tried to backpedal, I clasped the blade of the Blackreach between my palms.

My poor fighting skill meant I misjudged the angle and nicked my health on the blade. I’d gotten what I wanted, regardless. The soul-steel responded to my will, devouring affinity. A deep black hue ran down the dagger, forcing the goblin to drop it in shock.

I snatched the weapon before it could fall and lashed out like a beast unhinged. The last images the goblin saw were of the Blackreach scything across his face.

Mavari offered a hand to help me up from exhaustion. “Damien, I don’t know what to say . . .”

“What do you mean?” I asked, accepting her help.

Mavari smiled. Despite being marred by dirt, leaves, and twigs, her features still looked as soft as ever. “I thought for sure you had managed to get away. When I saw you creeping behind the goblins in the bushes, I almost had a heart attack. I wanted to climb down right there and then.”

“Didn’t think I had it in me, eh?”

Mavari shot me a dry look. “When I met you, Damien, you were only level three. You had no business fighting Iron-ranked enemies.”

“And yet, I killed them.”

“That you did, but don’t get cocky. These goblins were weak even by monster standards. It would have been a different fight altogether if they all possessed affinities. Never forget that. Rankers and awakened monsters both offer a different kind of challenge.” She gave me a once-over. “You’re not hurt, are you? Do you need a health potion?”

“Can’t take one,” I said, rubbing my temples which throbbed from the impacts of two kicks to the face. “I still have my potion timers up.”

“What level are you now?”

“Eight. Oh, wait—” I paused to check. True enough, I’d received a [System] notification from the final goblin kill. “I’m level n-nine.”

My voice cracked as I said it, mirroring my disbelief at my success.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Mavari beamed. “And how long do you have to hit your goal?”

“Two hours, give or take.”

Mavari’s eyebrows rose. “Heralds! I didn’t think it was possible, but you might just end up completing this feat.”

“Hold on, you mean you always doubted me?”

Mavari shook her head. “Damien, you have no idea how incredible this is. Even if I wanted to believe, no one can come this far in such a short time unless they are touched by the heavens.”

Touched by the heavens, huh? There was no denying that the goblins had shown up at a convenient time when I needed stronger enemies. Sure, the choice to stay and fight them had still been mine. And, I would have lost brutally had I made any mistakes. However, I couldn’t ignore the impeccable timing of the coincidence.

Or I could . . .

I had a banging headache, and I didn’t feel like worsening it by thinking about [System] shenanigans.

Mavari led me by the arm to a goblin with an arrow in his thigh. The foul thing crawled on his belly, tracking blood across the grass.

“Kill it,” Mavari said, handing me The Blackreach Dagger.

I stared at the goblin and his empty health meter, and then I furrowed my brows at her. “Would it count?”

“Yes. No one knows the exact formula, but everyone involved in a monster kill gets a share of experience—”

“—that’s proportional to their contribution, right?” I asked.

“Yes. However, last hits typically earn more XP. If two people are responsible for a monster kill, the [System] grants more XP to whoever delivers the killing blow.”

. . . making monster hunts a problematic affair. I could easily envision kill steals being a heated issue on Vizhima.

“I’m guessing,” I said, “that the right to loot is also awarded to the last hit, yeah?”

“It is. There are special ways to recover the loot of a murdered loved one, but they aren’t always accessible. The unawakened also can’t be looted.”

Ah. So, that’s what happened back with the deer. Did that mean that normal tigers and dogs and stuff also existed?

I killed the struggling goblin without further ado and tried not to think too much about how the [System] had reduced living creatures down to XP.

You have gained participatory XP for killing Goblin Scout LVL 12, a [System] message transmitted.

“Come on,” Mavari said. “We have a few more to finish off. You’re really great at causing chaos. The combination of your aura and the bushfire left the goblins too distracted to mount a proper defense. I had a great time picking them off.”

We stopped by two more whimpering goblins and four Dread Tigers. The others had died despite Mavari’s best efforts, but the rest were too wounded to escape. I spun Nana’s dagger around and proceeded to carry out the dirtiest work I had ever done in my life.

. . . which was saying something, considering I had once worked in refuse disposal.

The Dread Tigers passed without resistance, eager to be freed from their pain. The goblins, however, put up a fight. Both of them had been riddled with arrows, which turned the very act of breathing into an exercise in hell. Despite this, they raised their arms in defense as I kicked them onto their backs.

I didn’t draw out the deed. The Blackreach Dagger slid from goblin to goblin, stealing their final breaths. The act left me drenched in sweat—not from exertion, no. But, from a feeling that proved hard to describe.

I offered Mavari a tired smile. Even though I didn’t hit level ten, she had saved me a massive ton of work.

“Not enough?” Mavari asked.

I shook my head.

She replied with a pout, which sent butterflies fluttering up my stomach. “I was hoping this much would be enough. But, I guess good things don’t come easy. Your bravery got me out of a hairy situation, Damien. And, I also managed to reach level twenty!”—she swelled with pride at that bit—“You have no idea how long I was stuck at that bottleneck. I won’t rest until I return the favor.”

“Glad to be of help,” I said, smirking at her enthusiasm, “but I still have some time.”

I looted the goblins, not out of necessity but because I couldn’t bear to keep looking at their lifeless faces. They offered the usual goblin ear and Common monster core. Same as before, their clothes and gear remained after disintegration. “I feel closer to level ten too.”

“Being closer won’t cut it,” Mavari said, following behind me. “You have no idea how difficult it is to level up on weaker monsters. We need to find more goblins. Barring that, I know a few more places we can hunt.”

“HP’s going to be a problem though,” I said, eyeing the potion cooldowns. My health hovered at less than thirty percent, which was fine for fighting Dread Tigers. Not so much for other monsters.

Mavari rescinded her claim to the loot but offered to store them in her inventory. “We’ll manage. You just need one really good kill or multiple smaller ones.”

I studied one of the jagged knives that lay abandoned on the ground. “So, what’s the deal with goblins anyway? Are ambushes like this common around here?”

Mavari pursed her lips. “No . . . at least, not these days. Dreadwood is vast, Damien. Much larger than you think. It’s home to a few sapient species too. Mostly Wood Elves and goblins, though humans aren’t uncommon.”

“You left out your kin.”

Mavari caught the knife I lobbed at her and slid it into her inventory. “That’s because Dark Elves aren’t native to Dreadwood. Our people are only recent settlers, in elven years at least. This isn’t our home.”

“And the goblins?”

“Monsters. Which is what we call non-[System] races—”

“They can’t use the [System]?”

“They can’t. Not the way we do, at least. [System] races have access to the full breadth of choice. Monsters, on the other hand, follow a predetermined trajectory from birth. A Goblin Scout can never become a Goblin Engineer or Sorcerer. A Dark Elf, however, may choose to be a Warrior or Warlock.”

“Huh.”

Mavari chuckled at my blasé reply. “If that isn’t clear enough, monsters disintegrate on looting. [System] races don’t.”

“That doesn’t explain why they suddenly attacked.”

“Aye. The hatred between elves and goblins runs as old as time, but goblins haven't been active since their defeat in the last big battle. They usually live closer to the north, deep within the mountains. This is the first I have seen of a goblin in decades.”

I glanced around the battlefield. “That sounds disturbing.”

“It does. In any case, Nana would want to hear of this, assuming they haven't already been warned. We should hurry back—once we are done with your problem. If a goblin party has ventured into our neck of the woods, prudence dictates that we warn our allies and start gearing for war.”

A fire crackled around us, reminding me of my earlier attempt at arson. Wildfires were never pretty, and it would suck to start one within the second day of arriving in a new world. “Um, is there anything we can do about the flames?”

Mavari shouldered her bow and struck off in a random direction. “Don’t worry your heart. Fires never burn longer than a few hours in Dreadwood. The forest is protected by a special enchantment.” She glanced over her shoulder and quirked her lips. “Also, nice cloak. Mind telling me who you got it from?”

I started to reply.

The tall tree—the one Mavari had commandeered—finally fell to the ground. I spared a curious glance at the ruckus only to see a Dread Tiger leap out of the bushes. It was the one that had gotten away—the victim of my earliest attack.

The Dread Tiger knocked me off my feet with such force that my teeth rattled in my skull. Mavari yelled something unintelligible, but I could only focus on the claws in my chest.

Long strips of skin—my skin—went flying through the air before a trio of arrows stopped the Dread Tiger in its tracks. Too little, too late. My health meter blinked empty, and the status corner of my screen showed a familiar [Bleed].

“Oh no, Damien . . .” Mavari said with a gasp. “Please, don’t . . .”

Don’t what?

I couldn’t make out her features due to my blurry sight, but the irony of the sudden turn of events wasn’t lost on me. I had come this far, despite the ridiculous quest parameters, and had achieved six levels with two hours to spare.

One more level would have seen me complete the quest.

Just. One. More.

Mavari pressed a bitter substance into my mouth. Her face sat hidden behind the swirling petals of a bush lily. More bush lilies obscured my vision.

“Eat this, Damien. Quickly.”

I managed a final thought before succumbing to the pain:

This was so unfair.