FIREBOLT!!!

  The word blazed through Brett’s mind like a spark catching dry kindling, but he clenched his jaw, forcing himself not to shout it aloud. If he was lucky, they wouldn’t be able to track where the attack had come from, buying him precious seconds to cast again.

  The firebolt streaked across the open thirty yards, slamming into the goblin’s gut with a thud. The creature doubled over, a strangled “Oooof!” bursting from its mouth as the air was driven from its lungs. Brett grinned, he’d landed the hit but cursed under his breath. He’d been aiming for the chest.

  The flames blossomed across the goblin’s body, a brief but brutal bloom of orange and gold. In an instant, they vanished, leaving behind angry black scorch marks across its skin and armour. The creature staggered, smoke curling from its body but it was still standing.

  Brett didn’t wait. He forced himself to snap his gaze away from his first target, knowing he couldn’t get hung up on just one. More confusion, more damage. That was the plan.

  Fortunately, the other goblins were just as surprised as he’d hoped. All three had whirled toward their wounded companion, frozen in confusion. They hadn’t spotted him yet. Their moment of hesitation was exactly what he needed.

  He turned his staff, braced himself against the tree, and loosed another firebolt toward a second target.

  He shifted his staff toward the goblin on the far right, this one wielding a crude club, more a chunk of tree than a weapon. Brett adjusted his aim higher this time, trying to land the shot in its chest—or, if luck was with him, the head.

  The firebolt cracked from his staff like a whip of flame, but it soared just past the goblin’s face. The creature jerked back with a startled screech, instinctively ducking, then spun its head to track the path of the attack.

  Damnit, I over-corrected. And worse the goblin had seen him.

  It shrieked, baring its jagged teeth and stabbing its club toward the tree. The other three snapped to attention, following the direction of its point like bloodhounds catching a scent. Even the first goblin, the one still smoking from Brett’s earlier strike began stumbling toward him.

  No time to rethink the plan.

  Brett snapped off another shot. This one struck true, slamming into the chest of the screaming goblin and hurling it back with a burst of flame. It yowled, frantically slapping at the fire eating through its crude armour and skin.

  Brett didn’t wait. He focused on the same target and fired again, then again, then again. Each bolt hammered into the creature, driving it backward like a ragdoll caught in a storm. On the third impact, the goblin collapsed in a smoking heap.

  Four solid hits. That’s what it takes. Brett quickly did the math in his head. About 30 MP spent. That leaves me with 120. This is doable.

  Brett’s eyes snapped back to the advancing goblins, and his stomach dropped. They were close now. Much closer than he’d expected and they weren’t slowing down.

  Apparently giving them a target had sobered them up. Their pace had gone from a drunken wander to a focused charge, the wounded one dragging behind but still moving with unsettling resolve.

  He fired another bolt at the injured goblin, the one he’d hit first, watching the fire slam into its chest and halt it mid-step. It didn’t go down, but it staggered, smoking and snarling.

  Too close.

  It was time.

  Without looking down, Brett raised his voice in a sharp cry - “Josh! Ten yards in front of the tree! I’ve killed one and hurt another!”

  No reply came. Just the thud of boots kicking off the dirt, a burst of motion below as Josh lunged from behind the tree like a coiled spring let loose.

  Brett shifted slightly to keep his staff steady, eyes flicking to his friend. Josh tore around the trunk at a wide angle, coming in from the left, sword already raised. He was heading straight for the closest goblin, who was uninjured, aggressive, solely focused on Brett and unaware of the storm about to hit it.

  The injured goblin was off to Josh’s left, still smouldering, and Brett could see its wild eyes snap toward the charging human.

  This was it. Their plan was in motion. Now it was time to see if they could survive it.

  Josh finally let out a roar as he closed the distance, the sound raw and guttural, a war cry that sent a jolt through Brett’s spine.

  Time felt elastic. Since that first firebolt, every heartbeat had stretched into eternity, each second thick with tension. And yet, his rational mind whispered that mere moments had passed.

  Brett forced himself to focus.

  Josh was bearing down on the middle goblin, sword raised, charging like a battering ram. That meant Brett had to handle the one on the right. It was the only one still uninjured, armed with a crude club and angling toward Josh’s exposed flank.

  Can’t let it circle around him.

  He shifted on the branch, lined up his shot, and fired, hoping to knock it back, slow it down, or at least throw off its momentum. Part of him worried it might bolt toward the tree instead, drawn by the sudden threat above.

  Please don’t climb, he thought grimly. I am not winning a fistfight with a goblin.

  He readied another bolt, pulse hammering in his ears, praying Josh could hold the line just long enough.

  —

  Josh hated waiting.

  He hated sitting still, hated twiddling his thumbs and right now, he really hated crouching behind a tree while his best friend played sniper in the branches above. After launching Brett into position, there hadn’t been much left for Josh to do but scan the woods and make sure nothing crept up behind them.

  He glanced up again. What’s taking so long?

  The goblins were moving like slugs, and each second crawled by like an hour. He checked his footing. Adjusted the strap on his shield. Then checked it again. He bounced slightly on the balls of his feet, itching for movement. He wasn’t made for ambushes. He was a blunt instrument waiting to swing.

  Then he heard a whoosh.

  A streak of orange light burst across the clearing. Josh flinched, heart leaping into his throat. He leaned out just enough to see the firebolt slam into one of the goblins with a dull whump, the creature’s cry of pain following a beat later.

  Josh blinked, then smiled. Finally.

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  Another bolt. No scream this time. Did he kill one in two shots? Then came a flurry, fire crackling, goblins shrieking. Brett was really laying into them now. Josh rose slightly, body tensing, fingers curling tighter around the edge of his shield.

  Almost time.

  “Josh, they’re about ten yards in front of the tree now! I’ve killed one and hurt another!”

  Josh didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

  He surged into motion, boots hammering against the forest floor as he rounded the tree, shield raised and sword gleaming in the filtered green light. The goblins came into view, three of them, the one on the left trailing behind, its skin scorched and blistered from Brett’s barrage. The other two were still charging, clubs raised and eyes wide.

  Josh didn’t hesitate.

  He let out a roar, raw and deep, the kind that came from somewhere primal. The kind that made people flinch. The kind that told monsters they’d made a very, very bad choice.

  Somewhere in the back of his mind, even as his feet pounded forward and the rush of battle hit him like lightning, he was aware of the thought: This feels normal. Too normal. Had the system helped him adapt so quickly? Made this chaos feel like home?

  He didn’t have time to dwell on it.

  Sword in hand, eyes locked on the middle goblin, he threw himself into the fight intent on cutting down the first before the others even knew what hit them.

  Josh had already decided how he was going to start this fight. Lead with the shield. Smash the first goblin in the face with the brass boss or at the very least, knock it flying. He’d seen it work in movies, and it felt like the kind of thing a fantasy warrior should be able to do. Sword tucked close at his side, he charged straight ahead, lowering his stance slightly, angling the shield downward to avoid repeating the mistake he’d made in their last fight.

  The impact was brutal.

  His shield slammed into the goblin with a sickening crack, the brass boss connecting squarely with the creature’s nose. Blood and snot exploded across the surface, painting it in streaks of red and green. Josh didn’t slow, he drove forward with his arm, scooping the goblin clean off its feet and flinging it backwards like a plastic bag caught in a strong gust.

  Josh heard the sharp crack of a firebolt striking to his right, Brett was keeping that side pinned down. Trusting his friend to handle it, Josh pivoted left, locking eyes on the scorched goblin still clutching its spear.

  It looked dazed but defiant.

  He was too close now to get another full-speed shield slam in, so he shifted tactics. With a growl, he raised his sword high overhead and surged forward. The goblin barely had time to react before Josh brought the blade down in a powerful arc, cleaving from neck to stomach in one brutal motion. He didn’t stop moving, his momentum carried him through the swing, and he smashed into the goblin with his knee, sending it tumbling through the air like a ragdoll.

  Blood sprayed across the clearing. The goblin hit the ground hard, let out a strangled scream, and didn’t rise again.

  Josh didn’t wait.

  He snapped his head right, eyes scanning, there. The last goblin, Brett’s target, was still moving toward the tree, smoke rising from its scorched limbs. It hadn’t noticed Josh yet, too busy limping forward, fixated on where the firebolts had come from.

  Another glance to his original target, the first goblin he’d flattened, revealed it struggling, twitching in a crumpled heap about five yards away. It was trying to rise. Josh made his choice in a heartbeat.

  He turned away from the downed goblin. That one wasn’t a threat right now. But the other, the one heading for Brett? That one needed to die. Now.

  Josh sprinted across the clearing, boots pounding the earth as he closed in on the goblin. Just as he reached striking distance, another firebolt scorched through the air and struck the creature in the leg. It staggered, limping awkwardly, completely unaware of the death barrelling toward it from behind.

  Josh didn’t slow.

  With a shout of triumph, he drew his sword back and drove it forward, plunging the blade deep into the goblin’s exposed back. This time, he kept his grip tight and his motion controlled, careful not to overextend like before. The steel punched through with a wet crunch, and the goblin let out a sharp gasp, more of surprise than pain.

  Before the creature could slump or twist, Josh twisted his wrist and yanked the sword sideways in one fluid motion.

  The goblin came with it.

  The blade flicked the goblin off like it was nothing, launching the small, broken body into the air. It spun once before crashing to the ground in a heap of limbs and silence.

  Josh exhaled sharply, watching for any sign of movement. There was none.

  Three down.

  “JOSH! BEHIND YOU!”

  Brett’s voice split the air like a gunshot.

  Josh barely had time to react before a flash of pain tore across the back of his calf. He staggered, hissing through clenched teeth, and twisted around, just in time to see the bloodied goblin he'd hurled earlier, its face a ruined mess of bruises and gore, lunging toward him with a rusted dagger in hand.

  The blade dripped with his blood.

  Josh’s leg throbbed, hot liquid spilling into his boot, the sting sharp and deep. The goblin shrieked, wild and furious, and slashed again.

  Instinct took over.

  He dropped his shield low just in time, the dagger clanging off the reinforced wood with a dull thunk. The impact jolted up his arm, but the shield held.

  Josh grit his teeth. That thing should’ve been down for good.

  Pride and pain twisted in his gut. He’d turned his back on it, written it off and it had almost gutted him for it. If the little bastard had been even a foot taller, that blade would’ve sunk somewhere far worse.

  Josh shifted into a defensive stance, raising his shield as the goblin snarled and hacked at it with relentless fury. Each blow jolted through his arm, his calf still burning from the gash. He stayed patient this time, more cautious, less cocky, waiting for the right opening. The goblin slashed again. And again. By the fifth strike, its breath was ragged, wheezing through its ruined face.

  Now.

  Josh struck like a snake.

  His sword whipped out from behind the shield, a flash of steel punching straight into the goblin’s chest. He yanked it back just as quickly, twisting his wrist,, already preparing for a counterattack but there was none.

  The goblin staggered, staring at him with raw hatred in its eyes, blood pouring from the deep wound. It took one stumbling step backward, then collapsed like its strings had been cut. It twitched, let out a few gurgling gasps… and went still.

  Josh stood there for a moment, scanning the clearing.

  Dead. All of them.

  He let out a long breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Relief, pain, and adrenaline all surged at once.

  "Okay. Better than last time," he muttered, wincing. "But seriously… turning my back on it? Idiot move." His leg throbbed again, the warmth of blood soaking through his sock.

  "Really hurts, too."

  Josh looked up into the tree, shielding his eyes from the dappled sunlight. "Are you okay?" he called out.

  "I wasn’t the one who got stabbed! Give me a second, I’ll find a way down!"

  Josh heard branches snap as Brett began his descent, each cracking limb announcing another ungraceful drop. He hit one branch, caught himself, then slipped again. It wasn’t pretty, but eventually he landed with a thud and jogged over.

  "Let me see your leg," Brett said, already kneeling to inspect the damage. "It doesn’t look too bad. There’s a lot of blood, but I don’t see any bone or tendon. How does it feel?"

  Josh tried to put on a brave face. Honestly? My pride’s probably more hurt than my leg. He thought to himself, giving a lopsided grin. "I think that skill, Tough or whatever it is might be dulling it. Either that or the adrenaline’s doing its job. I’ll manage."

  Brett let out a breath and nodded. "Good. I’d hate to carry your heavy ass through the woods." He smirked. "Alright, four goblins down, and all I got was a splinter."

  He held up a single finger with exaggerated drama.

  “Show-off.” Josh chuckled, the tension in his chest easing a little.

  "Come on," Brett said as he stood and brushed off his hands. "Let’s loot the bodies and get moving before more of them show up."

  The pair moved cautiously toward the goblin corpses, though they were already beginning to dissolve into blackened ash and embers, crumbling in on themselves like burned paper. Josh and Brett worked quickly, scooping up a few scattered copper coins from each corpse, some basic weapons and collecting four pointed, leathery ears. Aside from that, there was nothing of value, no gear worth salvaging, no hidden pouches of loot.

  Josh straightened up after gathering the last set of coins, stretching out his injured leg and carefully testing his weight. It twinged, but he was relieved to find it held steady.

  No more bleeding. Good sign. Guess I really am tougher now... or just lucky.

  He let out a breath, only then noticing the gentle pulsing in the corner of his vision—his HUD notification flashing again, trying to get his attention.

  Congratulations. Your party has killed 3x Level 1 Goblin and 1x Level 2 Goblin.

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