The path to the local park usually took him about ten minutes of walking, though ‘usually’ was relative. He wasn’t a park person.

  This time it took more than half an hour. His pace was slow as he picked his way carefully, wary of ambushes from around the abandoned cars and unseen corners. He cut down about a dozen more goblins on the way, and the fights were getting from easy to laughably easy as he got used to them. Honestly, his only problem was his hands becoming heavy. The whole thing reminded him more of mowing the lawn than anything that resembled a fight. He was sweating and getting tired.

  This was already more exercise than he had since high school. Not that it was much, just more. Technically, any amount of exercise would be more than what he had since high school. He kind of regretted not grabbing a bottle of water with him.

  The unseen energy that he got from the kills was welcome but it didn’t make him any stronger or replenish his stamina, even if he now was a bit more ‘weighty’ than a common goblin. It felt good, if nothing else.

  He did see some people on the way. Living people. Didn’t get to heroically save anyone, sadly, most people who needed heroic saving seemed to be already pretty much dead, but he saw faces here and there. A small girl peeking at him through the window. A weird dude hiding beneath the car. A small group running from house to house in the distance, armed with bats and crowbars, trying to be stealthy and mostly failing.

  No one approached Dennis or tried to talk to him as he passed. People were busy with their own things, it seemed. Or just didn’t want to leave their hiding places. He didn’t mind that much. It wasn’t like he wanted to approach random strangers on the street and strike up a conversation. That would be just awkward.

  Though he noted that the numbers didn’t add up. There were armed and murderous goblins here and there, sure, but for every goblin that he saw there were at least three dead bodies on the street. It was a fucking massacre everywhere, and it felt like there had to be a literal horde of uglies to slaughter so much people so quickly.

  So where was the horde? Did he fucking miss it somehow?

  That was probably for the best. They were stupidly weak, but he wasn’t sure about his chances against dozens of them at once. Not before he gets his awesome superspeed powers. And he kind of wanted to rest for a bit already.

  It was kind of backwards. He was going to the park in hopes of finding more goblins to kill to level up, yet he was getting tired even before he reached it.

  But he could kill them even when somewhat tired, couldn’t he? It felt mostly like a chore at this point, and he would do all the chores as many times as needed if they promised him achieving his dreams.

  He heard the sound of a gun firing as he approached the park’s perimeter. A new shot echoed every few seconds like it was on a timer.

  It just didn’t stop as he came closer. He made a few steps then bam. Another few steps. Bam. It was methodical. Someone was wasting a lot of bullets, one at a time.

  He decided to investigate. It was unlikely that goblins had guns, and people were supposed to be allies, right? He could help out.

  He shivered from the thought of goblins with guns. Those would be a nightmare.

  It took him a few minutes before he rounded a corner and saw the source of the constant firing.

  Okay, maybe he wasn’t really needed here.

  The park itself didn’t have many trees from this side, it was mostly open space and benches.

  Everywhere he could see the ground was littered with goblin bodies. Hundreds of them, dead.

  There was a house on the edge of the park. An old man was sitting on the porch with a gun, shooting every few seconds. A girl about his age stood beside the man, holding something in her hands.

  Dennis watched dumbfounded as the man continued emptying his magazine. Where was he shooting? There was no more gob–

  He noticed a goblin appearing from thin air, stumbling a bit on the body beneath it. Just a few seconds later it was shot directly in the head, scattering its brains out.

  He looked at the old man. That was a long fucking shot. At least a hundred yards, maybe more.

  As the man’s magazine got empty he removed it and inserted the one that the girl gave him in one smooth motion. She quickly started loading the empty magazine with bullets while he continued shooting.

  What nice fucking system they set up there.

  The girl noticed him and waved.

  “Over here!” she shouted. “It’s safe!”

  Oh no. They wanted to strike up a conversation.

  He walked without much hurry as goblins spawned and got killed nearby.

  These people were spawn-camping the goblins. That was… Was that even allowed? This was cheating. He knew those goblins were pushovers but this was absurd.

  “Hey, kid,” the old man said as Dennis approached, without stopping from firing the weapon. His voice was deep and hoarse. The dude was definitely a smoker. “You did well surviving until now. Come inside. You’re safe here.”

  “I’m not a kid,” he muttered, feeling something weird from both the man and the girl. It was like… They both had way more weight than him. What the–

  “You’re leveling up from this?!” he almost screamed.

  The man winced.

  “You are a kid,” he said. “At least for me. And keep that sword sheathed. No need to scare people inside.”

  “We’re trying to gather as many people as we can,” the girl said while passing the man another magazine. “I’m Jenny. Don’t mind my grandpa. He is a bit cranky with all of… this.”

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  “Dennis.”

  “Richard,” the man said. “And hide the fucking sword, for fucks sake. Don’t come closer before that thing is sheathed.”

  What, did he think Dennis would suddenly attack a guy who literally had a gun?

  “Don’t mind him,” Jenny repeated. “It’s just… everyone is a bit nervous right now.”

  Dennis almost started sheathing his katana before noticing that it was covered in blood. He would’ve done the cool move of cleaning it by swiping it under his elbow but his t-shirt didn’t exactly have the sleeves for it, and it was gross. He used the rags from the body of a nearby goblin for it before awkwardly sheathing the sword behind his back. It took a few tries since he couldn’t see the damn thing behind him.

  “So…” he said awkwardly. “What’s up? Are you going to shoot goblins until you run out of bullets?”

  “Goblins? The name’s fitting, at least. It will take us a long time before we run out,” the man said, nodding in the direction of a crate nearby. “A gift from an old friend. I’m more worried about the gun jamming.”

  “What are you gonna do then?”

  “Die.”

  “We will move out before that,” Jenny interjected. “We are trying to gather as many people as we can while it’s somewhat safe here, and then we will all go in a group. You should come inside and help with the preparations. How long do we have?”

  “I’d say half an hour,” Richard said. “To pick up a few more strays like the kid. Can’t risk waiting more than that. Then we move.”

  That sounded like a horrible plan to Dennis. The old man was basically single handedly keeping the goblins from spawning right now. If he left then nothing would stop them, and they would eat the group from behind as it was leaving. Also, he planned to defend a whole bunch of people with that gun while on the move?

  “You’ll get eaten,” Dennis said. “Or chopped down. Goblins don’t exactly eat people, as far as I can tell.”

  “I’ll be defending from behind,” the old man replied. “People inside are cannibalizing my home as we speak, making shields. They’ll be at the front. We’ll pick up weapons from the ground, it’s not like those ‘goblins’ need them anymore. We don’t have much choice here, kid. It’s damned if we do, damned if we don’t.”

  So they were just trying to do something in hopes of it working? That was kind of grim.

  Welp, it’s not like he was going to go with them. Being in a group? Trying to survive and find safety? That was the role of fodder that was destined to be weak and depend on the overpowered protagonist to save their asses. Like him. He just needed a few more levels, and then he would be able to swoop in and effortlessly kill the secret boss that threatened their camp or something.

  “What levels are you?” he asked.

  “I’m level two,” Jenny replied. “Grandpa is four.”

  What the hell? He was so fucking behind. Guns were straight up overpowered. And the girl didn’t even shoot anything, she was just filling the magazines!

  Whatever, he will outrun bullets soon enough.

  “Got any classes or anything?” he asked. “Helpful info on the system?”

  “I don’t hold any classes,” the man grumbled while killing another goblin. “But I’ve got a skill on level three. Helps me shoot things better. Along with points in Mind I didn’t miss a single shot for a while. Not sure if I even can anymore. Now stop wasting time and go help inside.”

  Did he even know what a class was? Still, that was a good thing to know. Skills were given on leveling up, and were custom made for the players. It was perfect.

  He wanted his own custom made skills right fucking now. Maybe water running? Or phasing through solid objects. No, bullet time. He wanted them all. He couldn’t wait.

  “I, um…” Dennis mumbled, looking at the field of bodies. “I actually came here to level up, you know? Can you, like, not kill the goblins near me while I farm them? You’ve got a nice setup here and everything, but can you share a bit?”

  “This is a horrible idea,” Jenny said instantly.

  “It’s a straight up idiocy,” Richard said. “These creatures are vicious. Are you blind? Didn’t you see all the people they’ve killed? You will die without a weapon. Being brave is commendable, but don’t be stupid.”

  “I have a weapon.”

  “A proper weapon,” he gestured at his pistol. “There is a gun store on the way we’re planning. Wait until then, and you’ll have your chance of ‘leveling up’. You only have one life, kid. Use your head.”

  Get a gun? No way. The old man used a gun and that gave him a skill to shoot stuff better. Dennis wouldn’t touch a gun even if his life depended on it.

  “My Muramasa is perfectly fine,” he said sternly, coming up with a cool name for his sword on the spot. “I’ve killed a bazillion goblins with it already. You just didn’t fight them in melee, old man. They look scary, but they’re actually weaklings. You don’t need to worry about me.”

  “There’s nothing weak about–”

  “He’s not lying,” Jenny said. “You feel it, grandpa? He is more real than anyone inside. Even more than the most goblins.”

  Real?

  The old man looked over Dennis again, squinting as if dissecting him with his eyes.

  “That’s not your blood,” he said. “How many of them did you really kill with that sword? Don’t lie to me.”

  “I don’t know. At least a dozen? Maybe more, they’re not that hard to find.”

  “I told you to not lie.”

  “I’m not! They’re fucking weak!”

  “You ambushed them? How many did you kill in a straight fight?”

  “They ambushed me! I keep telling you, these guys are way weaker than they look!”

  Richard didn’t look convinced.

  “I’d say we could give it a try?” Jenny said hesitantly. “He definitely killed at least a few. Feels almost like a second level. If he’s not lying to us, getting a good fighter would help out the group a lot. Even if he doesn’t look like one. No offence.”

  Was she roping him in that ‘being in a group’ nonsense? He didn’t want to work his ass off protecting the herd of weaklings.

  Though that didn’t really sound that heroic. Okay, maybe he will protect them for a bit? In the last moment, while saving the day. Villainous speedsters were kind of cringe, so he wouldn’t be like them. And the villains were all codependent on the heroes anyway. They sucked and existed to be punched in the face. Nope, he didn’t want that role at all. He would be a hero. The one doing the punching.

  “Fine,” the man grumbled, shooting another goblin. Dennis’s ears were ringing from all the noise. “You’re level one, boy?”

  “Yes. And stop calling me a boy. Or a kid.”

  “You’re close to the second,” the man ignored him. “That means you did something to get there. Getting you to the second level would be a boon if you’re not full of shit. Show me.”

  It was kind of annoying being patronized like that, but Dennis didn’t really want to argue much with a guy who had a gun and never missed a shot. He was like the Deadshot, but old. And less cool. Still hard to argue with.

  He walked deeper into the field of bodies, trying not to stumble. Getting his sword out from behind his back was as awkward as putting it there, but after fiddling for a bit with the sheath he managed.

  He looked at Richard awkwardly and tried to take some sort of a battle stance to seem more competent. The man did not look impressed. He continued shooting down the goblins that appeared far away.

  Finally, Dennis saw a shimmer in the air about ten yards away from him, and pointed his sword in its direction.

  The goblin appeared, holding a knife. An easy matchup. From up close he observed the process of spawning better, noticing the details. It didn’t actually look like the creature just appeared on a spot. There was a small, barely noticeable shimmer in the air everywhere, like it was distorted by a heat above the fire. That distortion got stronger in that specific spot, as if concentrating, before the goblin came out of it. No, it was like the goblin got revealed. It was always there.

  His head hurt from trying to make sense of what his eyes were telling him. He heard another shot.

  The goblin’s palm jerked and the knife flew away. It screamed from the pain and started running at him, unarmed.

  “This is so unnecessary,” he mumbled as he casually pierced the goblin’s neck and stepped away, letting its body fall on the ground. He looked at the old man.

  “Huh,” the man grunted, looking at Dennis with suspicion. “Do it again.”