Chapter 4

  I Came In Peace

  ?Ken clung to the branch, chest still hammering.

  Stop, calm down, reset.

  Breathe, in, and out.

  He calmed his racing mind, and thumping heart.

  Shaking, covered in a cold layer of sweat.

  The chi—or whatever it was—didn't just sit in his veins.

  It prowled.

  Hungry, electric pressure that made the very idea of sitting still feel like a physical sin.

  His nerves were electrified, screaming for a new target.

  Breathe.

  The reality of his situation settled into his core.

  “Guess it’s solo queue Hardcore.”

  Just like work.

  At least I won't have to hear apprentices whining and complaining.

  “Just little mean green guys.”

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Glancing nervously through the thick leaves, took stock of his inventory.

  He had on his work clothes: canvas hoodie, heavy pants, steel-toe boots.

  Warm.

  Tough.

  Already soaked in goblin blood.

  “Guess the weather being shit finally paid off.”

  His knee didn't really hurt anymore.

  Weird.

  Useful.

  Ken slid a hand into the familiar, deep pockets.

  Unfortunately, the contents were exactly what he'd carried yesterday.

  His phone, wallet, keys.

  All useless.

  “Damn gobbos need to work on their satellite program… And the USD conversion rate..”

  He glared at the noisy keys to the house that felt a million miles away.

  “So much for my low interest rate.”

  He chucked the whole pile into a particularly thick bush.

  A quiet jingle, then silence.

  He looked down at the corpse.

  “My new friend had crude equipment. That screams society.”

  He was still buzzing from the chi, mana, or whatever, when the forest answered his thought.

  A grunt growled out from the woods.

  Warbled goblin-speak.

  Three shapes moving fast through the trees.

  The largest moved with a heavy, arrogant gait, a string of blackened bones clattering against its chest.

  Jewelry.

  The scouts are lean and scraggly, but the big one... he looks well fed.

  All three were sniffing the air.

  The leader's nostrils flared, his head snapping toward their fallen ally.

  A low, wet growl vibrated in the brute's chest.

  Balls.