It was awell-earned experience, a brutal reward carved from chaos and blood—but I couldn’t think about that now. First, I need to check if she was okay. My boots pounded against the dirt as I sprinted forward with urgency. The coppery stench of blood and the acrid scent of burning bodies lingered in the air, stinging my nostrils. I dropped to my knees beside Isabella, whose frame was trembling, hunched like a collapsed structure after a storm.

  I extended my hand gently, trying not to startle her. “Are you okay?”

  She looked up at me, eyes wide and glossy with tears, her face smudged with dirt and fear. Without a word, she leaned into my touch, pressing her head against my palm as though it were the only stable thing in the world. Her sobs were muffled, but they shook through my hand and into my chest.

  She was older—definitely in her thirties—with faint lines at the corners of her eyes that hinted at years of worry, maybe even motherhood. I could picture her with a child, possibly two, waiting somewhere far from here. I bet she has a family. God, this is awful.

  I turned to Desmond, my voice sharper now with resolve. “We need to take her back to the safe zone. I can't allow her to be bait anymore.”

  Isabella whispered, her voice so faint it was almost lost in the breeze, “Thank you...”

  I met her eyes and nodded, speaking with quiet firmness. “You need to upgrade your class stat. With it, maybe you can make us potions in the safe zone and get credit for kills that way.”

  Desmond, ever the pragmatist, pointed out the obvious with a frown, “That's if upgrading that stat will help her make some.”

  Isabella slowly stood, swaying slightly as she regained her footing. “It has to. The only skill I have right now is a passive.”

  Passive? That caught my attention.

  She continued, her voice a little steadier now, “I'm immune to 'debuffs,' whatever that means.”

  That’s a great skill—long-term, anyway—but right now, for this? Practically useless. She would’ve died out if we hadn’t formed teams. I exhaled through my nose and brought out my status window, the familiar glowing interface materializing in front of me with a soft hum. My fingers hovered over the options. I knew exactly what I wanted to upgrade.

  I clicked the Spells icon. The screen flickered for a second, then expanded.

  Two new spells appeared on the screen. Mana Enhancement surged with potential—since I'm not going to upgrade strength, it will help. Earth Wall was the one that lit a fire in my imagination. I could already see it—casting the spell beneath my feet, rising above the battlefield, gaining instant high ground.

  I swiped the window away with a grin forming on my lips. “Desmond, what are your stats now?”

  He turned toward me, his posture exuding even more power than before. His frame was already fairly big, but now it looked like his skin could barely contain the muscle packed beneath. Still, that was probably the last visual growth I’d see. At some point, strength will stop showing on the surface.

  He flexed his arm with a proud smirk. “I upgraded my strength by two to five, class to two, and speed to four. My new skill allows me to discern weaknesses by using mana. I only have one mana, so I bet I could only use it once.”

  Crush!

  The sound snapped through the clearing like a gunshot. I froze. That wasn't a goblin. Goblins might scurry and hiss—but they cannot crush anything. Leaves rustled violently, and birds scattered overhead.

  A few dozen yards away, just past the edge of the goblin's camp, a monstrous figure stepped into view. The trees bent slightly as it entered the clearing. My breath hitched.

  An orc.

  It towered over us, at least ten feet tall, its grotesque body wrapped in taut muscle that made Desmond look scrawny by comparison. A crude, jagged wooden mace hung from its massive hand—no, dragged. The weapon was as tall as I was and twice as thick.

  Its small, beady eyes locked onto mine.

  And in that moment, something primal and ancient stirred in me. Fear—not just fear, but the kind that bypasses the brain and nests itself in the marrow of your bones. My heart stuttered, then roared to life.

  I yelled without thinking. “Run!”

  As soon as I said that, the orc let out a guttural roar and charged.

  It was fast—unnaturally fast for something that size. Its heavy footsteps pounded behind us, each one shaking the ground beneath my boots. Isabella scrambled, her feet slipping on the uneven dirt as she pushed herself up, and then we were all running. The safe zone was maybe half a mile away, but it felt like ten.

  We tore through the clearing like frightened prey, branches snapping around us and leaves slashing our faces. Isabella surged ahead, but her movements were frantic, wild. She didn’t know how to move through rough terrain like me or Desmond. Her boots skidded with every step, and panic clung to her like sweat.

  I glanced over my shoulder for a split second—and my stomach dropped. The orc was barely thirty feet behind us now, closing fast, its huge frame barreling through saplings like they were blades of grass.

  I skidded to a stop, spun around, and threw my arm upward.

  I shouted, “Earth Wall!”

  A brown magic circle lit up the ground with a radiant glow, etched with a rock symbol. The spell responded immediately. With a deep rumble, a twelve-foot wall of dense, compacted dirt erupted from the forest floor, right in the orc’s path.

  Nice!

  The orc wasn't inconvenienced at all—it roared and swung its massive wooden mace. The impact was like a cannon blast. The wall exploded into chunks of dirt and debris, a shockwave of earth and dust showering the forest.

  I threw my arm over my face to block the debris, coughing as I spun back around and kept running.

  No time to think. I tensed my hand mid-sprint, focusing everything I had on summoning another spell. I pictured a fireball—tight, compact, dense with heat. I felt mana swirl through my veins as the red circle flickered into being around my palm.

  It was small at first. I kept feeding mana into it, willing it to grow, compress, and ignite. It responded sluggishly but steadily. The flames intensified, swirling in place like a captive star. I could tell—my upgraded class stat was enhancing its form, making it burn hotter, brighter, and faster.

  The orc was still gaining. We had covered maybe a quarter mile, but its thunderous footfalls were right behind us again. One swing of that mace, and we would be gone.

  Then it happened.

  Isabella’s foot caught on a thick, moss-covered branch. She yelped and went down hard, her body tumbling over the uneven ground. She rolled to her side with a cry, scraping her arm across jagged bark and stone. It had been coming—a fall like that was inevitable at the speed we were moving and her inexperience navigating terrain like this.

  It was her or us—unless I did something now.

  I had to do it. “Desmond, grab her!”

  He skidded to a halt, pivoting on his heel. That’s Desmond for you—kind to a fault, the kind of man you could count on even when death was charging straight at you. He lunged toward Isabella, scooping her up effortlessly as she struggled to get to her feet.

  The orc was barely twenty feet away now, and it smiled.

  That grotesque grin—wide, full of jagged, stained teeth—spread across its face as it saw us stop. It knew it had us. It thought we were cornered.

  I whispered under my breath, “Mana Enhancement.”

  The magic responded instantly. A slight blue hue enveloped my body. I was upgrading my speed. My legs bent, and then I launched myself upward—higher than I’d ever jumped before. Time seemed to crawl. The world around me blurred, sounds drowned in the rush of blood pounding in my ears.

  The wind screamed past my face as I soared up to the orc’s eye level. My body felt half its weight, yet my mana was draining fast—my right arm pulsed, veins bulging, skin tight from the raw power channeled through it.

  Below me, the orc reared back. Its mace swung through the air in a brutal arc, aimed to swat me out of the sky like a fly.

  That’s not going to happen.

  I thrust my palm forward, fireball clenched and ready.

  I slapped it straight in the face.

  BOOM!

  The fireball detonated on contact, a miniature sun erupting in front of me. The force ripped through the orc’s skull like paper. Its head didn’t explode—it detonated, flesh and bone tearing apart midair like a popped balloon under pressure.

  Blood and gore sprayed in every direction, coating me in a torrent of thick warmth. I couldn’t see—just red. Then gravity took hold again.

  I plummeted.

  I landed on my feet—barely. My legs buckled from the impact, and I stumbled forward, the last dregs of my energy spent. My vision blurred, the edges darkening. I couldn’t hear the orc’s body collapse, but I knew it had.

  I dropped to my knees, then to the ground completely.

  “Desmond, come back for me.” The words escaped in a rasp.

  And then, everything went black.