Jack shifted his stance and, with a decisive motion, leapt onto the goblin’s back while yelling “Fucking die!” His dagger struck again and again, piercing its shoulders, neck, and back. Warm blood sprayed from the goblin’s neck, coating Jack’s hair and face, the metallic tang of iron saturating his senses.

  The scene was savage, a fight for survival etched into his memory. Pain flared in the palm of his right hand with each plunge into the goblin’s flesh, but he didn’t stop until after the creature remained still.

  Sitting atop the goblin’s lifeless, blood-soaked form, Jack’s chest heaved from exertion. A wave of power surged through him. It was as if raw life energy had been injected into his veins, washing away a fraction of the fatigue that had gripped him moments before.

  “What’s happening?!” he shouted in surprise, his mind racing to make sense of the phenomenon. The wave of power left him feeling both invigorated and unsettled. “What the hell was that?” He stared down at his trembling hands, still dripping with the goblin’s blood.

  The sensation reminded him of what occurred during the forbidden blood magic ritual he’d witnessed when the blood cult sacrificed the orc warrior. It was similar, though far less intense than the overwhelming power he’d felt while hiding in the hayloft owned by Viscount Tides.

  As silence reclaimed the clearing, Jack’s heartbeat thundered in his ears. He gripped the dagger and pulled it free from the goblin’s lifeless form. Taking a moment to steady his breathing, he reassured himself, “I did it… I killed a goblin!” The words hung in the air, a mix of disbelief and triumph.

  It had happened so fast. A routine day of solitary practice was marred by the sudden, violent intrusion of a goblin attack. He allowed himself a few moments to catch his breath before wiping the blood from his eyes.

  The reality of what had happened began to set in. A single goblin, vicious and determined, had forced him into combat weeks, if not months, before he was ready. And despite the odds, he’d prevailed.

  Jack checked his body for wounds. Despite being covered in the goblin’s blood, there were no obvious injuries, only an itching sensation in the palm of his right hand. He wiped the goblin’s blood from his hand, noticing nothing more than a small, insignificant scar left by a blood-red rose thorn.

  “By the Gods, I was amazing!” Jack all but roared. He was still riding the adrenaline rush of battle, and the overwhelming satisfaction that he’d managed to defend himself using both his bow and dagger was intoxicating.

  “I could kill the bastard Baron right now!” As he clenched his blood-soaked dagger, he imagined the arrows he’d sunk into the goblin hitting the much larger form of Baron Greaves.

  After a few moments of exhilaration, he remembered how Greaves had overpowered him. He shook his head. “No. No, I’ll keep to my plan. A few years from now, the Baron will feel the sting of my arrows as they destroy his worthless heart. If he even has one.” He chuckled at the thought as the adrenaline rush began to subside and the negative effects kicked it.

  Jack groaned as he felt light-headed, fatigued, and thirsty. With shaking hands, he took a few gulps of refreshing water from his canteen. “Adrenaline sucks.”

  The clearing was peaceful again, with the sporadic rustle of leaves and distant bird calls to accompany him. The encounter with the goblin was a stark interruption. A reminder that the wilds outside Lundun were not as innocent as the quiet meadow filled with butterflies and bees might suggest. Yet, for Jack, it was also a confirmation that he was capable. His training, though limited, had prepared him for the unforeseen. His body was healthy and alert, and his mind was clear. He had proven that he could adapt, combining practised technique with the instinct to survive.

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  As Jack waited for the negative effects of the adrenaline rush to fade, he sat on the cool grass and pulled out his notebook once again. The action of putting pen to paper calmed his mind, though not quite enough to stop his hands from shaking as he wrote.

  Unexpected Encounter With a Goblin

  Location: Forest clearing outside Lundun

  Duration: Under two minutes

  Weapon: White oak bow with 5 cheap arrows. Dagger.

  Goblin emerged from the forest approximately fifty feet away.

  It attacked with a rusty shortsword.

  The first arrow missed due to not taking the time to aim.

  Fumbled nocking an arrow. Recovered fast.

  At approximately thirty feet, hit the goblin in the left shoulder with an arrow empowered by [True Aim] at level 0.

  Most likely would have missed without [True Aim].

  Penetration good.

  Despite the 28% increase in speed/power, the damage wasn’t significant.

  The goblin stumbled, but barely slowed and continued to attack.

  At around ten feet, I hit the goblin in the chest with an arrow.

  Aimed for the heart. Hit the left lung, which had a significant impact on the fight.

  Erratic breathing, coughing up blood, and slowing the goblin down.

  Given time, the injury would have been fatal.

  Damage plus the goblin’s hesitation allowed time to create distance to release a third arrow, which caused a large gash in its head.

  Goblin was still not down! In hindsight, another chest shot would have been safer.

  Required hand-to-hand combat. Blocked two wild sword strikes before kicking the creature in the chest.

  As it rolled on the floor, I jumped on it and stabbed it repeatedly in the back with the dagger. Risky move, but effective.

  Felt a strange wave of power. What is it?

  Adrenaline reversal left me with fatigue, shakes, and muscle weakness.

  Observations

  While practising, always keep at least twelve arrows in the quiver.

  Buy a full quiver of arrows.

  Try to keep calm to limit the negative side effects of adrenaline.

  Consider researching calming techniques to control panic. Research potential secondary archer and scribe skills.

  Nocking and releasing two arrows was achievable; three or more was difficult.

  Consider higher-quality arrows.

  Consider armour. I was fortunate not to be injured.

  Consider carrying a variety of spell scrolls; a single [Fireball] or [Frost Breath] scroll would have killed the goblin. A [Chronos Sphere] scroll would have made the melee part of the fight far less dangerous. Survival is more important than coin.

  Jack did not embellish his notes with emotion; the record was factual. It was important that he remembered every detail while the lesson was fresh. The incident reminded him that even in a controlled practice session, danger could arise without warning. He was one mistake away from having his fate decided by Thanatos.

  By the time he’d finished memorising and destroying the note, he was over most of the negative after-effects of the adrenaline rush. Jack stood and refilled his quiver. He was down to only ten arrows.

  “I need to be better prepared for when things go wrong. Never empty my quiver fully!” Jack nodded his head at his own wise advice. Had the goblin attacked after he’d emptied his quiver—he’d emptied it almost a dozen times while practising—he’d have had no choice but to engage in melee from the very start.

  Determined not to let the unexpected event ruin his day, he grabbed his pack and got ready to leave. His focus was refreshed by adrenaline and a new respect for the dangers of the forest. He turned to leave but stopped and looked back at the goblin’s bloody body.

  “That right ear’s worth 3 silvers,” Jack muttered. He didn’t like the idea of collecting ears, but it was 3 silvers. He knelt beside the fallen goblin, drew his dagger, and sliced the ear off before wrapping it in a strip from the creature’s ragged clothing.

  His actions were interrupted when he heard voices in the distance. Is it the young adventurers?