The outer rim of the gloomy forest is in view. The dark, weathered trees don’t look as ominous up close, not with that sparse foliage. From where we are, I see sunlight soaking through the leaves, illuminating the forest interior. Our group moves at a swift pace despite the burdens lugged along by Guts and his goblins and it won’t be long until we dive into this woodland.

I don’t know how much distance we’ve covered, but my legs are starting to ache. Travelling on foot sounds healthy and everything, until I realize this going to be a thing I need to do whether I like it or not. The route has been easy so far thanks to the flat grassland, but trekking is imminent.

I glance at my legs. Even if they are short as hell, they’re muscled enough to make up for it. I should be able to get through the forest in one piece.

Maybe I’m giving my body too little credit. My tiredness has only come to my attention, after travelling at a brisk pace for… what? An hour, give or take. In addition, despite experiencing gusting winds in this robe, no thicker than a tablecloth, I’m not shivering my ass off. Goblins are pretty hardy, I’ll give them that.

It’s just…

I touch my face and run my fingers over the canine-like teeth sticking up from my bottom lip. Green skin is doable, but the face… I’ll be happier if I wasn’t bald and stuck with the face of a marginally handsome pig.

You can’t throw a girl into a body like this and expect her to acclimatize so quickly. There should be a customization menu if this is a game, right? Dammit, I need to find a way to bring it up.

“What you want?” I resurface from my spiral of vanity at Grit’s annoyed snarl.  “Stop stare! You make skin itchy.”

“I just check if you follow,” Guts smirks. “If you left behind, how you tell Borg you no treasure?” This is the sixth time Grit’s fellow companion has baited him. “Watch where you go, if fall, you squash your goblins. Baha!” I snigger quietly as Grit curses at him and turns away. Hah, this guy deserves it.

We continue cutting across the field, carving a path through the grass. There are no roads to follow here, this grassland simply that – miles and miles of grass and more grass. It’s like I’m in a gigantic backyard with a sprawling meadow. Guts and his group are leading us, and since Grit hasn’t veered off and dragged me and Goblin A with him, I assume we’re heading towards the same place: wherever Borg is.

Goblin A hobbles beside me, still using the glaive as a crutch. We’re a fair distance from Grit, who’s sticking near Guts’ group. I don’t really care to speed up, and match my fellow companion’s staggering pace. We’ll be fine as long as the main group is in sight.

Grit hasn’t tried anything funny after we hitched ourselves to Guts. I don’t want to hope, but I think it’s finally caught up to his underdeveloped brain that there’s no point in taking out his anger on us. Killing Goblin B means there is one less goblin to come to his aid, and nearly killing Goblin A further crippled that.

Compared to Guts, the orc in great shape and still surrounded by four other goblins, Grit’s situation is bleak. A little too late to be realizing things aren’t in his favour, though I guess it’s better than nothing. He hasn’t carelessly picked a fight and it’s definitely a relief.

Actually, I’m not sure Grit and I could take Guts, even with Goblin A. He’s two levels higher than Grit and better equipped. How those extra levels translate to strength, I’m not sure, but it’s not something I want to test. This stalemate is the best thing that’s happened so far, and with Grit ignoring my existence, I get to test my new equip without fear of getting whacked.

“If only there something new to see.” I put down my hand. “It’s just the same old stat windows.” Without anything to test it on, this glove is basically useless outside of protecting my hand.

And for some odd reason, I haven’t been able to see my own stats. Nothing I do brings up my stat window, not even calling out a bunch of words related to games or keyboard commands. I tried interacting with the stat window over Goblin A’s head, but my hand passed right through, like it wasn’t there.

“What this?” Grit barks out, pointing off sto the side. “Guts! This where you find humans?”

“Not here. I find far away, near village. This one other orcs attack.” The entire group halts when Guts does, and I turn to check out the object of their focus. “Hm, this don’t look like orc work. Maybe master’s humans do. They also need get food.”

It’s a cart or caravan of some sort. I’m not close enough to catch the details, but some things are obvious enough. The caravan is overturned, three wheels missing while the one remaining is bent in an odd shape. Parts of it are blackened, a hint of charred wood wafting from it.

Unless whoever was in it set fire to their own vehicle, they must have been attacked. By fellow humans? Bandits, maybe? I hope they made it out in time.

Master’s humans. I rub my chin. Isn’t their master, Borg?

Unless Borg was a human, it would make sense for there to be a mastermind behind them. It’s a prevalent trope. The orcs aren’t bright, so there has to be someone keeping things in order. Like in Ascendance, where Demons were the ‘evil force’ commanding creatures like orcs against humans.

I sniff the air and grimace. I recognize this smell. The owners of the caravan didn’t make it out, after all.

“If master’s humans, no need search for treasure. Grit sure they take everything already. They greedy.”

“Stupid, we also no time check,” Guts fires back. “If Borg wait long, he get mad. We continue move.” He boots one of his goblins, and the stilled creature starts walking again. Our group shuffles forward, resuming to our previous pace.

I look over my shoulder as we walk away. The destroyed caravan is pitiful, like dead soldiers crowded around a planted white flag. Judging by the cool weather, it will take time for the bodies to become infested and rot away. To die so appallingly and without anyone knowing, it won’t be strange for their spirits to linger.

I touch the fraying strips of cloth tied around my dagger’s sheath. I’ll need to toss them into a fire, should I can find one. Burning these can’t be substituted for a proper burial, but Badass Wizard and Mannequin Woman might be able to find their way to the afterlife if it exists.

“Gege,” Goblin A cries out as it takes a tumble.

I help my fellow goblin get on its feet. “Again? Your body isn’t going to last if you keep this up. I readjust the glaive in its grip and check to see if it’ll face plant again. I see the culprit that plotted the goblin’s demise, wiry, gnarled roots sticking out of the soil. “Step over it. No, not– never mind, let me.”

I wrap my hand around its ankle and lift its leg over the roots. “Like that, okay?”

Goblin A successfully does so with its other leg. “Gege.”

“Keep your eyes peeled.” I look up at the looming trees. Five minutes or so of more walking and we’ll enter the forest. “We’re about to enter that place, and it’s going to be more of this, maybe worse. Don’t be careless if you want to get to the other side in one piece.”

I glance back at Goblin A to find the spot empty. I look in front. The goblin has left me in the dust, its back bent over the glaive-cane as it doggedly chases the orcs. It takes ungraceful, clumsy steps over the increasing number of roots jutting from the ground.

I rub my face, the glove warm against my cheek. “You’re welcome.”

----------------------------------------

It’s colder in the forest, which I didn’t expect. Though there’s plenty of sunlight, allowing us to navigate through the tangled roots and scrubs safely, none of the warmth seems to have made it past the greedy photosynthesizing leaves.

I run my hands up and down my arms. The short bursts of warmth from the friction send the chill scurrying. It’s a shame I can’t enjoy it, not when my skin feels so slippery. It’s like I’m stroking a rubber snake.

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

“Bah!” The entire group grinds to a halt. I lean to the side to get a better look.

“Why you so clumsy? Stupid goblin,” Guts yells. He delivers a swift kick to the butt sticking up in the air. The sack perched on the back of the fallen goblin jiggles when the Orc’s foot makes an impact. “Watch foot properly. If you ruin treasure, don’t say Borg, I kill you first!”

I peek at Grit’s face and roll my eyes. Bastard is grinning. It looks like he hasn’t forgotten his grudge against Guts. He raises an arm to wipe off the puss trailing down the side of his face, dripping from the blisters on his temples. They match the colour of his skin, greenish, sticky liquid. Blegh.

The goblin is on its feet, now. Guts might be as terrible as Grit in terms of attitude towards goblins, but a silver lining is that he’s less rash with his actions. One kick and nothing more.

I stare daggers at Grit’s back. This smarmy orc stands to learn a thing or two.

“Wait, I see thing,” Guts says before we can resume our trek. He creeps up to a nearby tree, figure bent over in some kind of a prowl. “Quiet, quiet.” Oh shit. Is there a monster here? Was it tracking us the entire time?

I sniff the air. They are the same smells from when we first entered this place. One is of wet and rotting bark. Then the another, a sweet and sharp scent which I had tracked to needle-shaped things practically covering the forest floor.

There’s fresh air and what else… wait, what’s this?

I screw face and slap a hand over my nose. Oh god, why is it suddenly getting so– I crane my neck to look at the branches overhead. Such a pungent odour, like someone decided to crack open a dozen rotting eggs at once, throwing in skunk spray for a splash of zest.

“Gegege,” Goblin A groans. Well, at least I’m not suffering alone.

Hah, who am I kidding? This still sucks. Forget it, I’ll breathe through my mouth and worry later about dog breath.

“I recognize good smell!” I immediately give Grit the stink-eye. He stomps over to Guts, where the other Orc has a hand pressed against the tree trunk. “Don’t selfish. Guts must share good stuff!”

“Bah!” I see Guts turn and proudly show off the… I don’t even want to know what that is. “Grab tasty food yourself, have many here.” The orc tosses the brown sludge into his mouth and begins to chew. I hear a faint pop followed by a series of squelching noises. It sounds like he’s chewing on a water balloon with the texture of an oily rag. “We bring some back to Borg?”

“Unguff?” Grit turns around. His cheeks are puffed, brownish slime dribbling down his chin. It makes his face twice as terrifying. “Gabbf!” His hands lash out quicker than I can follow, scooping up more of the viscous brown slop sticking to the trunk of the tree.

“Grit so selfish!” Guts circles the tree. “Lucky here have more. Really lucky!” It is his turn to start stuffing himself. The orcs lose themselves in their midday snack, completely forgetting our purpose of coming here. They made such a fuss about Borg and now, look.

Nature is really bizarre. Numbskulls like them are built into veritable tanks, probably capable of taking down three adults without blinking. All it takes is a smelly tree slime to disarm them. They let out groans of pleasure, the vulgar sounds echoing throughout the empty forest.

I almost feel jealous at how much they’re enjoying themselves. Whatever they’re eating might smell like socks left to stew in sweat for a year, but if it’s able to distract the orcs to such an extent, it must be some kind of delicacy. Edible food from nature, like juice from a cactus.  

I should to see what it is. Maybe I’ll take some with me. It might come in handy when an orc tries to attack me. Just toss out the slime and run with the wind at my back. I place my bets on what it may be and raise my hand.

Oily Slugg

Foliager

LVL 5

Status Effect: Oil

What.

There’s no way I’m putting a slug in my mouth. I’m not touching it with my bare hand either, and my glove is far too important to risk getting it covered in slug oil.

I still haven’t checked it’s possible to take it off, and until then, I refuse to test my luck. My hand hadn’t been particularly clean before I put it on and the thought of it is… I shiver. “Don’t think about it, Mei. Don’t think about how much germs could be breeding inside the glove…”

“Gegege...”

“Gege–”

At least I’m faring better than these guys. Pained goblin cries underpin the pleasured groaning from Grit and Guts, pitifully crying out for every new slug they throw into their mouths.

Eating slugs is definitely an orc thing. None of the goblins look like they’re enjoying this. Half are frozen in disgust while the other half suffer from the shakes, visibly fighting the urge to flee. One of the goblins from Guts’ group is even swaying, its glazed expression clouded with a revulsion so strong its face looks like a wrinkled cloth.

Similarly, Goblin A is suffering from the effects of its physical repulsion. The hand wrapped around its glaive is trembling to the point where the blade is scraping up dirt. This fellow has terrible luck. If it’s not getting beaten to an inch of its life, its getting tortured by a smell so bad it looks set to kill itself to escape this misery.

“You know,” I grab the top of its bald head and turn it toward me. “You could just breathe through your mouth.” I point at my mouth. “Like this. In and out. In and out like– yeah! Like that.” I didn’t think it would, but Goblin A does as I say. It stops shaking. “Wow, I guess you haven’t turned into a complete vegetable yet.”

“GEGE–” Another goblin scream. Jeez, the rest of the goblins must be at the end of their rope. Did they attack each other?

I groan. “Am I going to have to teach this to all of them or something…?”

There’s precisely one goblin face down on the ground, the sack it carried tossed to the side. The remaining goblins are spread in a ring around it, staring at their comrade lying atop a thick and mouldy tree root. It must have tripped.

“Baha, first find treasure, then tasty stuff,” Guts boasts. “If Borg allow me fun with human woman later, this really be special day!”

I roll my eyes. Still in their own world. Should have expected it. The goblin still hasn’t gotten up, so I make my way past its frozen companions and help it up. I let go of its shoulders once it manages to stand.

“There,” I say. “Now try not to fall flat on your face again.” I feel something scrape past my ankles. That better not be a bug.

“GEGEG–” The goblin disappears before my eyes. The mouth that swallows it snaps shut with a crisp clacking of rows of teeth on teeth.

Four sets of slit pupils bear down on me. The towering tree root is two heads taller than I am, extending up like a flag pole. The beast hisses, and a brown forked tongue flicks the top of my head.

 “Guts,” Grit’s booming voice cuts through the haze. “Smart goblin found monster!”

The monster snake writhes dementedly at his voice. It curls its body like a spring and sends itself rocket in Grit’s direction. The lower part of its body whips against my legs and I scramble to get back.

“BAH!” Thank god for the Orc who can’t keep his mouth shut. “You attack me? I kill you!” I hear the tell-tale impact of Grit’s club hitting the ground, followed by a yell from Guts.

I press a hand to my chest, fumbling for my dagger. I’m about to faint. My heart is pounding so hard, about to explode from my chest like an alien baby. I hate the feeling, I’m too young for heart attacks. I draw the dagger, my anxiousness easing at the sound of drawn metal. “That was close. Way too close.”

I turn back to the two orcs, hoping to see them with situation under control. It is so far from that, I don’t know why I bother getting my hopes up. The snake monster is a bad match for them, wielders of a club and an axe. They’re attacking, but none of it is lands on the slippery bastard swerving in and out of the areas they can’t cover.

“Monster too fast!” Guts snarls when he gets solidly whipped in the face. Blood trickles down his nose, which looks flatter than before. “This no good for Orc. Stupid goblins, now come help!” he commands.

One by one, the goblins abandon their sacks. The ones with the weapons draw them before racing forward, and those without simply charge in like a bunch of suicidal idiots.

“Gob– ” Luckily for Goblin A, Grit doesn’t finish his order before the snake monster opens its maw to engulf his entire right arm, shoulder to fingertip. “BAAAAH!”

“Does he really think you can help? You can barely walk in a straight line with those injuries.” I push Goblin A to a safe distance away. “Just stay here and look out for more monsters.” The goblin remains as unresponsive as ever, but at least it’s not charging into the fray and making things worse.

“Alright, Mei,” I try to make my breathing even. “Let’s check if you can kill whatever the hell that is.”

The goblin was swallowed whole, earlier. I’m betting the monster has a high level, but it better not be high enough that none of us will walk away alive. I toss the dagger into my other hand and hold up my glove, the action done as easily as wiping sweat from forehead.

Serpent Glade

Ravager

LVL 14

Status Effect: -

“Level fourteen. Four more than Grit, two more than Guts. We have the greater numbers, so we shouldn’t lose.”

I say that, but the mess of a battle isn’t improving. With the goblins sent in, it’s growing more chaotic and completely tilting the battle in the monster’s favour. The Serpent is still slipping past their defense like water.

And worse… Grit’s arm is in bad shape. Perhaps that’s not the right word. It has no shape – everything up to his shoulder looks like it got bitten clean off. I’m surprised he still has the strength to wave his club around.

“Shit, what should I…”

Honestly, I don’t want to help. I want to find my way out of here, or at least get closer to whatever kind of city or town may out there.

If I wasn’t worried about running into anymore monsters by myself, I’d gladly dump this group. But I am, so the best chance of finding civilization is by following the orcs to wherever Borg may be. I can’t get the words ‘Master’s humans’ out of my head, either.

I’ll save the orcs and get some answers. Now that’s a reason worth throwing myself into the fray. I grip the dagger between my hands. They can’t hit the serpent. Somehow, we need to slow it down or distract it to let Guts land a couple of hits. Killing it might be too farfetched, but getting it to low health could get the Serpent to leave us alone.

“As long as I don’t get eaten, this should work.” I slash the air, blade whistling. “If this is a game, let me try playing it like one.”