A soft chime echoed in his skull.
[LEVEL 5 – Threshold Reached]
Skill Selection Available.
A glowing screen flickered into view.
Barrett blinked, rubbing his temples. “You’re kidding me…a skill menu?” he groaned, “This looks annoying.”
Choose One Skill:
[1] Blood Rush (Active) – Temporarily boosts Strength and Dexterity. The greater the danger, the stronger the effect.
[2] Second Wind (Passive) – When taking heavy damage, begin regenerating slowly over ten minutes. Triggers once per day.
[3] Adrenal Instinct (Passive) – Predicts enemy movement for three seconds when surrounded.
[4] Improvised Weapon Mastery (Passive) – Bonus damage and accuracy with any handheld object.
Barrett squinted. “Oh, I see how it is.”
He crossed his arms, muttering as he read.
“Blood Rush? Sounds like slamming a double scoop of pre-workout. Second Wind? Adrenal Instinct—what the hell? Improvised Weapon Mastery?”
He grunted. “Whatever. A real man picks whatever sounds coolest.”
He jabbed his finger forward.
[Skill Selected: Blood Rush]
[Skill Acquired: Blood Rush – Active]
A golden shimmer rolled across his skin like fire under glass. His pulse kicked up.
Barrett grinned. “Not bad. I can feel it.”
He grabbed his machete, slung it over his shoulder, and smirked at the empty air.
“Blood Rush, huh? I’d hate to be the next guy who gets in my way.”
The interface flickered once, then vanished.
—
Barrett took the long way back to the cave, letting the river guide his steps. The falls still thundered out of sight, a steady white roar that hollowed the chest and made the air taste cold and fresh. The ground was churned to mud where the fight had been; broken branches and clotted grass left a trail of the chaos they’d survived.
He found the bear first. A hulking shape half-slumped against a boulder, steam rising from its fur where the blood had dried. No bodies. No sign of the others. Relief hit him like a wet hand to the face, and then the blind, practical panic: his pack was gone.
“Shit,” he said, flat.
He lowered himself beside the carcass and leaned back against its cooling flank. The hide was still warm enough to be comforting, oddly human in that way. The river’s constant hiss threaded through the trees and eased his shoulders by degrees. He’d burned most of the day in fights; his muscles ached and his stomach growled like it had its own voice.
“I could really use a protein bar,” he muttered.
Hunger sharpened him until he could not sit still. He rose, cursing under his breath, and began scanning the perimeter, under rocks, behind roots, along the shallow ledges where someone might’ve dropped gear. Near the cave mouth, something bright yellow flashed against the brown of the mud. A tub of creatine, half-buried, the label scuffed but familiar.
His pulse gave a stupid, hopeful little lurch. He yanked it free. The tub trembled.
“No way.” His grin was ugly and genuine. “Yes. Yes! It’s happening!”
He ripped the lid off, a cloud of damp powder puffing up and stinging his nose. He checked for the false bottom, and his fingers found the small perforated tray. Nestled on it, wobbling like it had the shakes, was an egg.
Barrett crouched, feeling ridiculous and relieved in equal measure. The shell split, and a stub of black down tumbled out, an absurdly small life blinking wet eyes at him. It peeped, a tiny, urgent sound in the wide quiet.
He scooped it up with careful fingers. The bird was warm and fragile, its tiny heart hammering against his palm.
“There there. Daddy’s got ya.” He felt foolish saying it, but the words came out soft, anyway.
A system ping echoed in his head. It was dry and clinical in contrast to the ragged life at his fingertips.
[You have bonded with Shadow Raven]
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The bird cocked its head as if expecting a name.
Barrett barked a laugh. “Easy choice. I’ll give ya a badass name.”
He quickly typed a name into the menu that had presented itself.
[Shadow Raven will be named Grimm]
Grimm chirped, a sharp, hungry note. Barrett’s grin softened. “Alright, Grimm. Hang tight.”
He wedged the bird into the creatine lid like a makeshift nest and jogged toward the river. Recent rain had left the soil loose; within minutes his hands were filthy and full of worms. He pinched one between rough fingers, chewed it down like a man trying not to gag, spat, and shoved the rest into Grimm’s open beak.
The raven attacked the worms with the animal ferocity of survival, and Barrett felt a small, ridiculous relief loosen something in his chest. His own hunger hummed, but watching the bird eat felt like a small victory.
Dusk bled into the treeline, and the first fat drops of a new rain began. He dragged the remainder of his coat into the cave and made a shabby nest against the stone. Grimm burrowed into the coat’s collar and fluffed up against the fabric.
The rain grew into a steady drum, and the cave became a small, wet world lit by the grey of the evening and the orange smear of the small fire he’d started.
The bird chirped once.
“This sucks, man,” Barrett said, because he had to say it to somebody.
Chirp.
“Yeah. Stuck in a cold cave. Hungry. No backup.”
Chirp Chirp.
“Well, not totally alone.”
Chirp.
“I swear if I find Fred sleeping in my queen with my—” He stopped. The thought still tasted like bile.
Chirp.
“Forget them. We need to get stronger.”
Chirp.
Grimm’s eyelids drooped. Its tiny breathing slowed and softened beneath his thumb. Barrett stared at the rain, fingers moving in small circles over midnight-soft down. He let the sound of the water wash the fight from his head and finally closed his eyes.
—
Barrett sat at a cottage table bathed in warm sunlight. The window was open; a soft breeze carried the smell of butter and sugar.
Granny set down a plate stacked high with crepes, steam curling upward.
Pippy, Lance, and Arthur crowded around as he lectured them on dessert economics.
“I’ll take five homemade crepes with sugar or hazelnut spread over one over-decorated, twenty-dollar atrocity any day.”
“Wow, Mister Donovan, that’s brilliant!” Pippy chimed in.
Tanya laughed beside him. “Open up, big boy.” She lifted a forkful to his mouth.
He leaned forward, smiling—
—and [Iron Reflex] detonated in his skull like a flashbang.
Barrett jolted awake on cold stone as gravel crunched nearby.
His body reacted before his mind did. He rolled left, and an axe cleaved down where his head had been, biting sparks from the stone floor.
The night outside the cave mouth was alive with movement. In the faint silver wash of moonlight, he saw them. Small shapes, eyes like wet marbles, skin slick and green. Goblins.
“What the—?!” Barrett scrambled to his feet as another axe came spinning out of the dark. He ducked, the blade clipping his shoulder hard enough to draw blood.
He hissed through his teeth. “I was just about to get to the good part!”
Another rushed him. He snatched up his machete, swung on instinct, and split the blade connected with a wet crunch, sending the creature sprawling into the dirt.
[You have slain a Goblin Warrior — Level 6]
More shapes spilled into view—five, then ten, maybe more—entering his cave’s mouth in crouched stances, their jagged weapons catching the moonlight.
Barrett backed toward the cave wall, breathing hard. Grimm squawked once, startled awake.
“Damn it,” Barrett muttered. He knelt, opened the creatine tub, and set the tiny bird inside. “Stay put, Grimm. Daddy’s gotta go to work.” He slammed the lid shut just as the first goblin charged.
The creature shrieked and swung a cleaver the size of a tennis racket. Barrett sidestepped, caught it by the wrist, and drove his knee into its chest. The goblin’s ribs cracked like dry twigs.
He shoved it backward into two more, then swept his machete low, caught a leg, took one down, turned the motion into an upward arc that split another’s jaw. Blood sprayed in a warm mist.
[You have slain a Goblin Warrior — Level 6]
[You have slain a Goblin Warrior — Level 5]
The smell hit him. Iron, rot, damp fur.
“You smell worse than a protein shaker left in a car trunk,” he snarled, kicking one away.
A rock smashed against his back. He spun. Three more goblins were rushing him from the right. One leapt onto his shoulder, claws sinking into flesh. Barrett grabbed it by the throat and threw it into the firepit, where it screeched and writhed in the coals.
[You have slain a Goblin Warrior — Level 6]
The others hesitated at the smell of burning flesh, and Barrett used the moment to press forward. His blade flashed once, twice, three times—clean, brutal arcs honed from years of chopping wood and idiots.
[You have slain a Goblin Warrior — Level 4]
[You have slain a Goblin Warrior — Level 5]
[You have slain a Goblin Warrior — Level 6]
“A lot of you little shits tonight, huh?” he panted. “Fine. Let’s dance.”
He activated [Blood Rush] and felt a surge of power instantly circulate through his body.
Barrett smiled, “now you’re all, in big, big trouble.”
They surged together in a hissing tide. Barrett met them head-on, fighting like a man possessed. He weaved, ducked, swung, every motion born of exhaustion and fury. When his blade caught, he used his boots; when it slipped, he used his fists.
[You have slain a Goblin Warrior — Level 5]
[You have slain a Goblin Warrior — Level 4]
[You have slain a Goblin Warrior — Level 6]
[You have slain a Goblin Warrior — Level 6]
A goblin lunged with a spear. He caught it under his arm and snapped the shaft in two, then buried the jagged end in its gut. Another came from behind, biting into his calf; he drove his elbow back, felt the crunch of bone, then turned and split the thing down the middle.
[You have slain a Goblin Warrior — Level 4]
[You have slain a Goblin Warrior — Level 6]
Minutes blurred into hours. The moon crawled across the treeline. His muscles screamed, lungs burning, but still he swung, still he moved. The ground was slick with blood and mud. His black beater was shredded, his arms painted red to the elbows.
[You have slain a Goblin Warrior — Level 5]
[You have slain a Goblin Warrior — Level 4]
[You have slain a Goblin Warrior — Level 5]
Finally, as the first pale light of dawn began to creep through the cave entrance, the last goblin lunged shrieking. Barrett caught it by the neck and slammed it into the stone. Once. Twice. A third time until it went limp.
[You have slain a Goblin Warrior — Level 6]
[LEVEL UP!]
Congratulations, you are now Level 6.
Free Points Available: 3
He stood there, chest heaving, surrounded by the dead.
Steam rose from his skin in the cold morning air. The machete slipped from his fingers and hit the dirt with a dull clatter.
“Damn,” he rasped, voice raw. “Guess that’s…my cardio for the morning.”
He stumbled over to the creatine tub, popped it open, and peeked inside. Grimm blinked up at him sleepily, unharmed.
“Good work, partner,” Barrett said with a crooked grin. “You kept the base secure.”
He collapsed beside the bird, head hitting the dirt. Within seconds, sleep took him, dreamless and deep.
-
Make the batter
In a bowl or blender, combine flour, eggs, milk, melted butter, sugar, salt, and vanilla.
Mix until smooth—batter should be thin like heavy cream.
-
Rest the batter (Do not SKIP! Looking at you Barrett.)
Let it rest 20–30 minutes.
-
Heat the pan
Heat a non-stick or lightly greased pan over medium heat.
-
Cook the crêpes
-
? cup batter into the center of the pan.
-
-
30–45 seconds until edges lift and the bottom is lightly golden.
-
10–20 seconds more.
-
-
Repeat
Stack cooked crêpes on a plate. Add a little butter to the pan as needed.
FUN FACT: Barrett can eat 15-20 of these in one sitting, and he ONLY uses Nutella or sugar(if Nutella isn't available), no fruits or any other frills.