The forest stretched wide and green beneath the twin suns, silent except for the whisper of leaves and the distant rush of water. The air was humid, heavy, alive with the smell of wet bark and iron-rich soil. Every so often, a bird called, sharp and lonely, before the sound vanished back into stillness.

  Barrett moved carefully through the undergrowth, machete balanced over one shoulder, boots sinking into soft earth. Sweat rolled down his temple. Grimm rode in the sling strapped across his chest, his black feathers faintly ruffled by the heat.

  The world around him had an edge this morning. There was a watchful quiet, as though the forest itself was holding its breath.

  He stopped at a ridge that overlooked a hollow of gnarled roots and pale moss. The map he carried was a piece of torn parchment, smudged with ash, that said the Goblin Captain’s patrol was close. The crude charcoal “X” lined up almost perfectly with this spot.

  “That should be the place,” he muttered.

  Below the trees thinned into a sunken clearing, dappled with light. Bones littered the ground. Skulls, femurs, and something that looked too long to belong to an animal. Flies buzzed lazily around the carcass of a half-rotten deer.

  Barrett grunted. “Good sign or bad sign, partner?”

  Chirp.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

  He climbed a little higher until he found a sturdy tree on the ridge, its bark thick and gnarled, its roots like grasping fingers. He crouched behind it, crouching low, eyes sweeping the clearing below. This was a perfect spot to observe the planned meeting spot and wait for Maku to arrive before making his epic entrance.

  Ideal vantage point.

  Perfect for an epic Barrett Donovan entrance.

  He snickered at the thought—until a suspicion hit him.

  Barrett’s eyes narrowed.

  He swept the treeline, checking every bush, every shadow, every dip in the terrain.

  “Maku…you damn camper,” he muttered.

  Chirp, Grimm replied softly.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Barrett sighed. “I know. Pot, kettle, whatever.”

  After a full minute of searching with no sign of the little bastard, Barrett leaned back against the tree.

  “Late again,” he grumbled.

  And he settled in to wait.

  —

  The minutes stretched thin. The forest shimmered under the noon light, each breath thick with humidity. Grimm rustled against his chest; Barrett hushed him softly. He adjusted his grip on the machete, muscles coiled tight, waiting for any movement.

  Footsteps.

  Not from ahead.

  From behind.

  Heavy. Slow. Too deliberate to be random.

  Barrett’s instincts fired in his skull like an alarm, a flare of heat down his spine, the animal certainty of danger.

  He turned, inch by inch, until he saw them.

  Three figures moving through the brush, silhouettes against the light. The first was massive, nearly his height, its muscles thick as tree trunks, armor pieced together from bone and rusted metal. Behind it stalked two smaller goblins, each gripping notched blades crusted with dried blood.

  [Goblin Captain — Level 10]

  [Goblin Warrior — Level 6]

  [Goblin Warrior — Level 6]

  Barrett’s jaw went slack. “Sweet land of liberty…”

  The monsters were moving straight toward him, and they were close. Too close.

  Damn, he wasn’t supposed to be in this area.

  He rechecked the map and was sure they should have appeared ahead of them.

  He crouched, heartbeat pounding in his ears. Carefully, he slipped Grimm from his sling and tucked the bird beneath a cluster of ferns. “Stay put, pal,” he whispered. “Daddy’s gotta work.”

  He waited until the nearest goblin stepped past a break in the brush, then moved.

  One step. Two. Then a burst of speed.

  His machete flashed once — a clean, brutal swing that cut the first warrior clean in half.

  [You have slain Goblin Warrior — Level 6]

  The other two whirled toward him, shrieking. The Captain’s roar shook the branches above as it charged. Barrett barely saw the blur of motion before a fist the size of a bowling ball smashed into his chest. The impact lifted him off his feet and slammed him into a tree.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  White pain exploded behind his eyes.

  He crumpled, gasping, tasting iron. His ribs screamed.

  Then his [Iron Reflex] flared, and he rolled just as a cleaver buried itself in the trunk where his skull had been. Bark and dirt rained down.

  Barrett staggered to his feet, rage boiling through the pain.

  “Round two,” he snarled.

  [Blood Rush Activated]

  A golden pulse ran through his veins like fire. His heartbeat deepened, steady and powerful. His vision sharpened; every leaf, every drop of sweat, every breath of the enemy became clear as crystal.

  He surged forward. The world narrowed to the Captain’s shape — a green tower of muscle and armor. He ducked under another swing, drove the machete through the second warrior’s throat, and tore it free in a spray of black blood.

  [You have slain Goblin Warrior — Level 6]

  Before he could turn, the Captain’s cleaver came down in a brutal overhead strike. Barrett tried to twist away but caught the blade across his back. The cut was deep enough to send heat and blood down his side.

  “Sweet…mother…of liberty!”

  He stumbled forward, gasping, one knee hitting the dirt. The Captain’s laugh was a guttural growl, wet and pleased. It stalked closer, dragging its cleaver through the soil.

  Barrett forced himself up, blinking through the haze. His mind flickered to Maku, that smug bastard. The memory ignited something fierce and ugly in his gut.

  “Not again,” Barrett hissed.

  He charged recklessly, swinging wide. The Captain caught him mid-strike by the throat.

  Its grip was crushing, cold, fingers like steel. Barrett’s boots scraped at the dirt as he kicked and clawed. The creature lifted him off the ground, its breath foul and hot in his face.

  It grinned and raised its cleaver high for the killing blow.

  Barrett squeezed his eyes shut. So this is it…

  CRACK!

  A pulse of blue light lanced through the trees, slamming into the Captain’s chest. The force sent the creature staggering backward. The cleaver missed Barrett by inches.

  He hit the ground hard, coughing, and looked up through the haze of dust and magic.

  Standing at the edge of the clearing, framed by the sun, was a tall figure in a gray puffer jacket. His black hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and his spear shimmered faintly with blue light that buzzed like an electric current.

  Maku.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said, adjusting his collar. “Traffic was hell.”

  Barrett gawked at him. “You jerk! I almost got killed just so you could time your dramatic entrance!”

  Maku tilted his head, deadpan. “Please. You picked this spot hoping to do the same thing to me.”

  Barrett opened his mouth. Closed it. “…Fair point.”

  The Captain let out a furious roar, clutching at its smoking chest.

  “Great,” Barrett muttered. “He’s still kicking.”

  “Maybe,” Maku said dryly, “you should’ve started with him first instead of the grunt.”

  Barrett glared. “You saw that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How long were you watching?”

  Maku didn’t answer.

  “Alright,” Barrett growled, spitting blood. “Screw a plan. Let’s just kick his ass.”

  They charged together. The captain met them halfway. The clearing erupted in noise, steel clashing, earth splitting, the smell of sweat and iron filling the air.

  Barrett swung in broad, heavy arcs while Maku moved like a phantom, his spear flickering blue trails. They circled the Captain, trading blows, carving deep gashes into its armor.

  But the monster was relentless. It smashed its cleaver into the ground, forcing them apart. A shockwave of dirt and stones exploded outward.

  Barrett skidded, coughed, and rushed in again, too fast, too reckless. The Captain countered, slamming his fist into his ribs. Barrett doubled over, gasping, vision tunneling.

  Maku darted in front of him, spinning his spear. “I’ll distract him,” he barked. “Hit his blind spot!”

  He unleashed a volley of shimmering mana missiles. The blue orbs streaked through the air, hammering the Captain’s torso in bursts of light. Barrett ran through the explosions, eyes locked on the opening — swung his machete upward — and felt it catch in bone.

  “Come on, come on!” he snarled, wrenching it free.

  The Captain pivoted with terrifying speed, cleaver rising again.

  For a heartbeat, Barrett saw himself from somewhere else. From behind. He saw the Captain’s swing before it happened, saw the angle of its arm.

  Barrett rolled, dirt spraying where the cleaver landed.

  He turned his head and spotted Grimm perched high on a branch, eyes glowing faint blue.

  “Thanks, pal,” Barrett breathed.

  Maku blinked mid-fight. “You’re talking to your bird now?”

  “No time for explanations!” Barrett shouted. “Let’s finish this!”

  He roared, activating [Blood Rush] again. His veins burned with light. Maku’s eyes went electric blue, his spear thrumming like a living thing.

  They nodded once. No words needed.

  Then they ran.

  Barrett came from the right, machete gleaming gold. Maku from the left, spear swirling blue energy like a storm coil.

  The Captain swung — and missed.

  Their blades crossed paths in a perfect X.

  The clearing went silent.

  A heartbeat later, the Captain’s body split open from shoulder to hip. Black blood fountained across the moss as the creature toppled backward, the light fading from its yellow eyes.

  [You have slain Goblin Captain — Level 10]

  [LEVEL UP!]

  Congratulations, you are now Level 8.

  [LEVEL UP!]

  Congratulations, you are now Level 9.

  Free Points Available: 6.

  Barrett exhaled, chest heaving, shoulders steaming in the humid air. “Not bad…partner.”

  He turned, grinning, but Maku swayed, blinked twice, and collapsed face-first into the dirt.

  Barrett stared, then laughed weakly. “Aww, the little guy’s all tuckered out.”

  He sheathed his machete and looked toward the blood-soaked clearing. Grimm fluttered down, landing on his shoulder. The forest had gone quiet again, the unnatural, heavy silence that only came after slaughter.

  Barrett knelt, checking Maku’s pulse. Still strong. He breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Don’t worry, champ,” he muttered, hoisting him up by the arm. “You did good.”

  The twin suns had begun to fall, their dying light spilling gold through the trees. Barrett started the slow walk back toward camp, Maku slung over his shoulder, Grimm perched on the other.

  For a moment, just before the forest swallowed them, Barrett looked back at the fallen Captain and smirked.

  “Round two goes to us.”

  Then he turned, vanishing into the darkening woods.