Max crouched on the ridge overlooking the Hobgoblin’s camp, his eyes narrowing as he ran through his plan one last time. This wasn’t going to be another quick smash-and-burn raid — not with that monster in charge.

  He opened the tutorial store and scanned the Consumables tab. Two icons caught his attention:

  [Greater Health Recovery Potion] – 200 Credits

  [Greater Mana Recovery Potion] – 150 Credits

  Expensive, but worth every credit if this fight went the way he expected. He bought one of each, tucking the red and blue glass vials into easy reach on his belt.

  Then came the gear check — sword sharp, armor straps tight, storage ring cleared of junk in case he needed to grab something in a hurry. He downed a quick snack from his supplies for stamina, then pulled up the camp layout from memory.

  He knew the patrol routes. The gaps between guard rotations. The open field near the western watchtower — perfect for luring enemies into open combat without letting the whole camp swarm at once.

  At least, that was the plan.

  Max slipped down to the perimeter, keeping low. He was halfway to his chosen spot when the first goblin wave found him.

  Five brutes, charging hard, their guttural roars shattering the quiet. Max planted his feet and met them head-on. His sword flashed in the dim light, cutting through the first goblin’s guard before cleaving deep into its chest. The second swung a heavy club — Max stepped inside its arc and rammed his blade up under its ribcage.

  The fight was fast but costly. Two more fell to his blade after a brief scramble, and the last tried to flee before Max blinked ahead and ended it with a clean strike to the neck.

  No time to rest.

  The second wave came within minutes — this one faster, with lighter armor and jagged spears. They moved with more coordination, forcing Max to sidestep and weave to avoid getting boxed in. His sword arm burned from the constant motion, and by the time the last goblin dropped, his breathing was ragged.

  “Two waves already… and I haven’t even touched the camp,” he muttered.

  The third wave was worse — another five goblins, all axe-wielders, their swings heavy enough to jar his bones even when he blocked. Max took a blow to the shoulder that numbed his entire arm, forcing him to swap his grip and fight one-handed for several seconds until the feeling returned. When it was over, sweat dripped down his temples, and his mana pool was running low from constant use of Blink to avoid killing blows.

  The fourth wave came like the others, relentless. By the time the last goblin fell, Max’s legs trembled from the exertion. His health was down, his mana scraping the bottom — and then the System chimed in.

  [Level Up!]

  You have reached Level 13

  Stat Points Allocated:

  +3 Free Points Available

  A surge of energy rolled through him as his health and mana replenished. It wasn’t full recovery, but it was enough to shake off the worst of the fatigue.

  “Alright,” Max breathed, tightening his grip on his sword. “Round two.”

  But instead of more brutes, the treeline ahead exploded as a massive shape burst through.

  The Hobgoblin.

  It came at him like a battering ram, shield raised, covering the distance in less than three seconds. Max barely had time to plant his feet before the impact hit — the world became a blur of motion and pain as the force lifted him off his feet and sent him spiraling through the air.

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  He slammed into a tree trunk hard enough to rattle his teeth, the breath punched from his lungs. Bark tore away under the impact, and he collapsed to the ground, ears ringing.

  By the time he rolled to his knees, the Hobgoblin was already closing the distance, shield lowering to reveal a predatory grin.

  Max forced himself upright, sword raised, every muscle screaming in protest. The creature was faster than it had any right to be. Stronger, too. Every instinct told him this wasn’t just another fight — it was a struggle to survive.

  “Alright,” he growled, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “Let’s see if you bleed.”

  The Hobgoblin didn’t answer — it simply charged again.

  The Hobgoblin came on like an avalanche, shield up, sword raised in its other hand. Max sidestepped, barely avoiding the edge of its swing, and countered with a quick slash to the side — but the blow skidded off thick bone plating jutting from its shoulder.

  It didn’t slow down.

  Max blinked backward, creating distance, and hurled a mana bolt. The projectile slammed into the Hobgoblin’s chest, staggering it for half a heartbeat — just enough for Max to close the gap and drive his blade toward its midsection.

  The Hobgoblin twisted, catching the strike on the rim of its shield, and smashed the metal edge into Max’s ribs. Pain exploded through his side, but he held his footing and retaliated with a downward arc, sparks flying as his blade glanced off the beast’s weapon.

  They traded blows in a blur of motion — Max darting in and out, using Blink to avoid the worst of the shield bashes, the Hobgoblin’s strength forcing him to keep moving or be crushed outright. His arms ached from deflecting its strikes, and his breath came fast, each inhale tasting of iron.

  The Hobgoblin feinted low, then brought its blade up in a savage overhead chop aimed directly at Max’s skull. Too fast to dodge.

  [Aegis Ward – Charge Expended]

  A burst of shimmering light erupted over Max’s head, the blow glancing harmlessly off the magical barrier. The shield shattered into motes of light, and Max blinked back in desperation, feeling the aftershock of the impact buzz through his bones.

  “Wont be able to use that again for a while” Max thought as he got into position.

  The Hobgoblin snarled, closing in again. Max’s mana ticked lower and lower, but he poured the last of his reserves into another mana bolt — this one aimed at the creature’s knee. The impact made it falter, and Max lunged, sword biting deep into the now-exposed thigh.

  It roared and slammed its shield forward, sending Max tumbling backward. He rolled, came up on one knee, and drew a long breath, gathering every ounce of strength left in his battered body. Mana surged into his weapon, the blade glowing faintly as the power built.

  The Hobgoblin charged again, shield high.

  Max sidestepped at the last possible moment and brought his sword down in a brutal, two-handed arc — the Powerstrike tearing through armor, muscle, and bone. The blow bit deep into the Hobgoblin’s shoulder, cutting down through its chest and nearly splitting it in half.

  The creature staggered, blood pouring from the wound, eyes wide in shock. It tried to lift its sword, but the weapon slipped from its grip and fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

  Max yanked his blade free in a spray of crimson and kicked the dying Hobgoblin backward. It collapsed to its knees, then toppled sideways, the light fading from its eyes.

  Silence fell over the battlefield, broken only by Max’s ragged breathing.

  He stood over the body for a long moment, chest heaving, every muscle screaming in protest. His hands still trembled from the force of the final blow.

  “Not so scary now,” he said, though his voice came out hoarse.

  Max stood over the Hobgoblin’s corpse for only a breath before he turned toward the camp. The fight had left him battered, his mana low and his body aching… but there was no hesitation in his steps.

  The camp had gone quiet. The surviving goblins, those who hadn’t been part of the earlier waves, were still in shock — frozen between fight and flight after watching their leader fall.

  Max didn’t give them the chance to choose.

  He moved through the rows of huts like a shadow, cutting down anything that moved. A goblin scout stumbled out from behind a cooking fire — Max’s blade took it across the neck before it could scream. Two more tried to run for the barrier side of the camp; a quick Blink put him in their path, and both fell before they could raise their weapons.

  By the time the first real shouts of panic rose, it was already too late.

  Max fought without mercy, his strikes deliberate and final. Wooden shacks went up in flames as he kicked over fire pits and hurled burning debris into their thatched roofs. He drove the goblins toward choke points and slaughtered them there, cutting down the last pockets of resistance one by one.

  Minutes blurred together until there was nothing left but smoke, bodies, and the crackle of fire eating through the camp.

  Max stood in the center of it all, the Hobgoblin’s blood still staining his blade, and let the silence settle.

  This camp was his now.

  No banner. No guards. No overseer. Just empty huts, unclaimed supplies, and the barrier at his back.

  He sheathed his sword and walked toward the largest hut — the Hobgoblin’s — pushing the door open without breaking stride.

  The thought came to him, cold and certain.

  One more camp. Then I own this island.