Jack held his bow at mid-draw as his eyes widened at the guttural snarl he’d heard coming from the forest. He prepared for a battle. At that moment, he wanted to grip the dagger’s handle, but couldn’t. He looked to the tree stump, where seven of his arrows stuck out like feathered hedgehog spines.

  “Shit!” He only had five arrows.

  A dark shape burst from the shadows at the edge of the clearing. It was a goblin, small in stature but filled with malice. Its skin was a mottled green, its eyes burned with a wild, feral light, and it carried a rusty shortsword in its right hand.

  Jack’s heart pounded. Oh, crap. He’d already guessed what it was, but it still came as a shock. With no injuries to slow him down, his body was ready for a fight; adrenaline flooded his system.

  The creature sprinted across the damaged clearing straight towards its target. It bore signs of a recent fight; it had a small cut across its cheek and fresh blood on its rusty blade.

  Jack finished drawing the arrow he’d been holding at mid-draw and, without taking time to aim, let the arrow fly. He watched as the arrow flew past its target, burying itself in a fallen tree with a low thud.

  “Shit, I didn’t aim. Calm down. Use your training,” he muttered, remembering the clear, step-by-step drawings he’d made in his past life that showed how to pull an arrow from the quiver through to releasing the bowstring.

  The goblin snarled as it turned its attention to where the arrow had landed.

  Jack took a deep breath, pulled another arrow from his quiver, and tried to nock it fast. His hands shook, and he fumbled the technique. Calm down. You know what to do. Any soreness from the earlier practice was gone under the influence of the adrenaline surging through his body. He nocked the arrow again, took another deep breath, and drew it back, activating [True Aim] for the first time.

  It would take six seconds to fully activate the skill; when ready, the arrow would be 28% more accurate, faster, and powerful than a standard shot.

  The goblin advanced with unexpected speed, its snarls punctuating the silence of the forest. There was so much debris in the clearing that the creature had to jump and crawl over multiple fallen trees to reach him.

  Jack aimed his bow as the goblin jumped over a fallen tree, not thirty feet from him. His eyes narrowed as the seconds passed by, 4… 5… 6… In one quick motion, he let the skill-empowered arrow loose while releasing his breath. The arrow streaked through the air over 25% more accurate and faster than his first skill-free shot.

  As the goblin touched the ground, the projectile struck the creature in the left shoulder. It jerked and grunted in pain, its momentum faltering for a few seconds, causing it to stumble over an exposed tree root. After recovering, it snarled louder and continued its charge towards him.

  By the Gods, I hit it. I actually hit it!

  His class instincts and past life training, short as that was, took over. Jack stepped back, almost stumbling over a fallen branch, while pulling another arrow from his quiver and nocking it fast. “Shit!” he muttered as his hands trembled. He considered and dismissed the thought of retreat. Goblins were fast and had good stamina; he couldn’t outrun one.

  Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  While his bow offered him a range advantage, he also had a dagger at his side. His training in both ranged and close combat, though limited, would now be put to a pressing test. His practice session had become a battle for survival.

  Controlled breaths. Keep calm. I don’t have time to use [True Aim] again! He pictured an arrow flying into the goblin’s chest. Jack controlled his breathing and drew the arrow back as the goblin reached within ten feet. One arrow in the heart and it’s dead! He steadied himself, aimed for its heart, and let it fly.

  The arrow struck the goblin in the chest, puncturing its left lung. A cry of pain erupted from the creature as it staggered to one side. However, it didn’t fall. With surprising agility, the goblin recovered and continued its attack with renewed ferocity.

  Jack moved aside while drawing his dagger. With the bow in his left hand and blade in the other, he prepared for the next phase of the fight.

  The next few moments passed in a blur. The goblin circled, its breathing and movements erratic and desperate. It gave a ragged cough, causing blood to splutter from its mouth over a patch of damaged ferns.

  Hoping to gain some distance to give him time to nock another arrow, Jack took a step back. It was then that the goblin drew closer, and he saw its beady eyes full of hate. It wanted to spill blood.

  Jack’s breathing was heavy but controlled. He knew that if he allowed the creature to close the distance, he’d be forced into hand-to-hand combat. Dagger vs shortsword. He recalled how he’d fought one-on-one against Greaves, causing fear to almost overwhelm him. Keep calm. He gripped his dagger, finding courage in the rough texture of the damaged handle.

  The goblin hesitated and grimaced as its pace faltered due to its heavy injuries. It dropped to one knee while grunting in pain.

  Jack rushed backwards, positioning himself so his back was against an ancient tree near the clearing’s edge; a natural barrier, limiting the goblin’s manoeuvrability around him.

  The goblin paused, its pain-filled snarl giving way to a look of frustrated fury.

  In that brief moment of hesitation, Jack held his blade between his teeth and retrieved another arrow. He tasted the metal of the blade and the oil used to protect it from rust. As the arrow was nocked, the goblin ran towards him while coughing up blood. The goblin wouldn’t survive this battle, even if it managed to win.

  He drew the arrow back. With precise concentration honed by spending hundreds of hours crafting spell scrolls, he aimed for the creature’s head and released. It cut through the air and connected with a sickening thud on the side of the goblin’s skull. Its head jerked to the side as the arrow left a large, bloody gash along its skull. Its momentum faltered.

  “I hit it!” His eyes widened at the shock that his aim was true without the use of any skills.

  But the creature was still not done. With an unworldly cry, the goblin charged forward with reckless abandon while swinging its rusty blade in wide arcs.

  With his back still against the ancient tree, Jack lowered his bow in defence and retrieved the dagger from his mouth.

  The goblin, unsteady and bleeding, attempted a desperate lunge; its rusty shortsword swinging towards Jack’s centre. Jack stepped forward while blocking the blade with his dagger. Sparks flew as the two weapons kissed in the dappled light of the forest.

  Undeterred, the goblin attacked again, its weapon swinging more like a club than a sword. Jack parried with the shaft of his bow, the metal of the bloody blade scraping against the rune-protected wood of the white oak bow; the sound was brief and sharp.

  Sensing an opportunity, Jack kicked the goblin in the ribs, causing the creature to stumble and fall. As the goblin rolled on the floor, its snarls turned into unintelligible gurgles as the arrow shafts in its shoulder and chest snapped under the weight of its fall.

  Time to end this, Jack prepared himself for a risky move.