Chapter 13
Need Some Protein Bro
Ken’s eyes snapped open.
He was instantly wide awake.
“I can't believe I slept so well like this. Killing monsters from legend really tuckers you out.”
Every muscle aches, left side still tender, ass may or may not be bleeding, and my mouth feels like dry moss.
Perfect.
“No water bottle either, Mr. Cosmic System? I gotta go drink directly from the ground like some kind of woodland creature?”
Ken grumbled, slowly unfolding his six-foot-two frame from the too-small bush.
The cold reality of his survival was immediately upon him, but the tight, familiar warmth of his triple-charged Momentum ball was a comforting presence.
?Ken pushed his way out of the thicket, moving with caution despite his urgency.
His first objective was clear:
Water.
?
Keeping his head low and his movements smooth, he stalked toward the faint sound of the creek.
Every nerve was strained, instantly registering the rustle of leaves and the chirp of birds—sounds that were now filtered through the lens of potential threat.
He reached the bank and dropped to his knees at the edge of the clear, running water.
?
He drank deeply and frantically, splashing the cold water over his face and neck.
The chill helped cut through the mental fog, bringing him to full awareness. He tried the best he could to use a little water to clean the worst of his grime without getting too soaked.
He took a few more moments, kneeling on the wet bank, his eyes slowly surveying the dense forest that surrounded the creek.
?Frantic thirst quenched, now a hollow, gnawing hunger began to take hold.
He grimaced.
A pseudo body builder who typically ate around 200 grams of protein per day, not some rabbit that survived off bullshit.
? “No way I'm finding out what goblin tastes like,” he muttered. “No…”
He rose slowly, turning his focus from threats to resources.
The forest was dense, but he was in an old growth area, meaning plenty of large trees—oaks and hickories—which would produce nuts, though not until the fall.
?
Moving along the creek bank, and hopefully towards the goblin camp, he scooped up a couple good throwing stones.
?
He spotted all kinds of plants.
I need steak. Not what steak eats.
More chi would be dope too.
?Food had to be a priority, but time was of the essence with these goblins about.
14 kills.
?
He had effectively crippled the goblin reconnaissance efforts.
They know something is hunting them.
Just not what.
The sun was getting higher.
Time to take a look.
He left the creek bank, angling toward the low rise where he had first spotted the camp.
Moving slowly now, relying on the near-supernatural awareness granted by his Hyper-Responsive Nerves—listening for any disruption in the background noise of the woods.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
?
He came to the ferns he’d hidden behind yesterday and dropped flat onto his stomach, crawling forward until he had a clear view.
?The scene was similar to yesterday, only more activity. Goblins scurried within the rickety palisade.
Around two dozen, maybe more, and they seemed desperately agitated by something.
Huh. I wonder what.
?A couple of large, brutish goblins—larger than the shaman or the swordsgoblin—were overseeing a crude repair of a section of the wall.
?He needed to thin them out, with the lowest risk of being swarmed as possible.
?His window of opportunity was closing.
Their panic and fear had to be taken advantage of before they recovered.
Before they realize it's just some guy.
His stomach rumbled.
? A hungry guy.
?Ken pulled back from the low rise, his initial assessment complete.
They needed to be pushed over the edge.
?
His eyes immediately scanned the outer perimeter.
He noticed them—a pair of guards, positioned close to each other, but slightly distanced from the main group.
Crucially, nearby sat a Deadfall Trap—a large, flat rock, meant to crush anything tripping the figure four trigger mechanism.
The goblins were clearly using it as a food gathering tool.
Huh. Clever girl.
“I just so happened to think of doing that myself, before I saw that. I'm smarter than goblins.”
“Way smarter.”
Let's see if they run to a dinner bell.
?
Circling wide, and moving with the speed of someone disturbingly excited to kill something, he settled in just past the deadfall trap.
From behind a downed mossy tree, he took aim at the deadfall’s mechanism, using one of his gathered rocks.
He needed to hit the trigger to drop the trap.
?
The first rock flew through the air.
It missed high, whistling through the branches.
The noise of the stone hitting the distant ground was enough to make the two goblin guards snap their heads toward the sound. They chittered nervously.
?
Ken waited three seconds, his breath held.
He threw the second rock.
This one struck the trigger.
Or close enough.
? CRASH.
The two goblins immediately abandoned their posts. They sprinted toward the sound of the fallen trap, entirely focused on the possibility of fresh meat.
Leaving the safety of their camp and little green friends.
?The two goblins arrived at the scene of the crash, their chatter high-pitched and frantic.
They immediately focused on the downed trap, their backs to the deep, silent woods.
?
Slipping from behind his cover, his speed overcame the short distance in an eye blink.
Right palm, an instrument of focused impact and speed, drove into the back of the right goblin’s neck.
?The strike was precisely placed and perfectly timed.
It crumpled instantly, falling forwards into a heap of limbs and rough leather at the feet of its comrade.
The second goblin—a burly, club-wielder —looked down at the silent, collapsed body with genuine confusion.
It let out a questioning, guttural noise, trying to make sense of the sudden, silent collapse of its partner.
?
This moment of pure confusion was all he needed.
?
Ken’s hands clamped down—one over the creature's skull, the other driving upward beneath its jaw. With a savage, decisive twist, the goblin’s neck snapped.
The sound was a quick, muffled crunch swallowed instantly by the surrounding forest.
The goblin went instantly limp, its body collapsing next to its buddy.
“Kills 15 and 16. Nice.”
“No time. Let's try something new.”
After chucking their weapons off into some thick brush, quickly kneeling, he scooped up both light-weight bodies and threw one over each shoulder.
Upon standing, the hazy cloud followed the corpses.
Heading away from the camp, and not somewhere any genocide had been enacted yet, he absorbed his new gains.
Fuck it. Walking compression. Let’s see if this shit works on the move.
This is gunna suck.
It, in fact, did not suck.
Seems to move easier if I'm moving.
Definitely a little tougher to visualize.
I'll work on it.
End result:
Brighter light ball.
Extremely scientific.
Moving deeper into the shadowed forest, the bodies got stashed away in a bank of old leaves.
Working back, giving the deadfall trap a wide berth, he reclaimed his position on the fern ridge south of the camp.
They seem agitated.
I wonder what the problem is?
Watching, with a grin, one could see the wave of panic spread at the news of the disappearances.
“Okay, so they will be freaking out for a while, no point in trying my luck. I should go find some food.”
They will get tired from being vigilant.
Then I'll hit them again.
Easy.
As long as I don't make a single mistake.
