Sid walked behind the trio, his outward confidence masking the cold sweat running down his back.

  Logic check, he thought, eyeing the crude weapons of his escorts. If the Elder is the boss of this floor, he has to be significantly stronger than these three combined. With my current stats—Strength 5, no weapon arts, and a fireball that exists only in my imagination—I’m not a hero; I’m a snack.

  I can't fight harder. I have to fight smarter.

  The dense foliage gave way to a clearing. The smell of woodsmoke and unwashed bodies grew heavy.

  "Home," the lead goblin grunted.

  It was a primitive settlement. Tents made of stretched animal skins and broad leaves circled a central fire pit. Dozens of goblins scurried about—sharpening sticks, stirring pots of bubbling, questionable meat, and bickering.

  "Is that your village?" Sid asked.

  "Yes. Our home."

  They stepped into the light. For a second, there was silence. Then, absolute chaos.

  "HUMAN!" "RUN! It's a Human!" "Hide the meat! Hide the babies!"

  Goblins dropped their tools and scrambled, tripping over each other in a panic. It was less of a warrior's response and more like kicking a nest of frightened rats.

  "SILENCE!"

  A raspy voice cut through the noise. The sea of green bodies parted. An old goblin hobbled forward, leaning heavily on a gnarled staff. Despite his frailty, the four heavily armed hobgoblins guarding him made it clear: this was the authority.

  "Chief!" The trio ran forward, bowing so low their noses touched the dirt. They whispered frantically to him, gesturing back at Sid.

  Sid stood his ground, enduring the intense glare of the four bodyguards. He crossed his arms, trying to look bored rather than terrified.

  The old goblin stepped forward. His eyes were cloudy but sharp with intelligence.

  "Human," the Chief croaked. "I am Gobta, Chief of this village. I heard what these three idiots said. I ask you just one question: Why are you here?"

  Sid paused. He needed a hook.

  "I’m Ronin," Sid replied, his voice steady. "I heard about the... management issues in this village. And I have a proposal."

  Gobta studied him for a long moment, then turned and gestured to the large tent behind him. "Let’s talk in my house."

  Inside the tent, the air was thick with the scent of herbs. Sid sat across from Gobta on a rug made of wolf fur.

  "What is it that you want from us?" Gobta asked, cutting to the chase.

  "Support. And Information," Sid replied.

  "Support? From us?" Gobta raised a brow. "How?"

  "Teach me how to fight," Sid leaned forward, his eyes locking with the Chief's. "Teach me your ways. In return, I will kill the Elder for you on the Night of the Offering. I will remove the obstacle preventing you from ruling this tribe properly."

  Gobta let out a wheezing laugh. "You make jokes, Human. If our techniques were good enough to defeat the Elder, wouldn’t I have done it myself years ago? He wields magic. We wield sticks and rusted knives. Furthermore, there are only three days left until the Offering. Do you think you can master the martial arts of the Goblin race in three days?"

  "And..." Gobta narrowed his eyes. "Why use our techniques? Why not your own?"

  Sid smirked. He had been waiting for that question.

  "Your techniques aren't weak, Gobta. You just lack the physical potential to maximize them. But me? I am a Human." Sid lied smoothly, ignoring his pitiful stats. "As for the three days... that is more than enough time for someone with my eyes to learn the skills of a goblin."

  He stood up, looking down at the Chief. "And to answer your last question: Optics. If I kill the Elder using your tribe's techniques, it won't look like an assassination by an outsider. It will look like the Gobta style is superior. It will validate your claim to the throne."

  Gobta went silent. He looked at Sid, then at the tent flap where the Elder's cave loomed outside. Ambition warred with caution. Ambition won.

  "Guards!" Gobta snarled.

  The four hobgoblins rushed in.

  "Teach this human," Gobta commanded, pointing a claw at Sid. "Teach him the Four Secret Arts of the Gobta. Break him if you have to. He has three days."

  The deal was struck. The sun had barely risen on the first day when Sid was dragged out of his tent by the four elite Hobgoblins. They didn't treat him like a guest anymore; they treated him like raw iron that needed to be beaten into shape.

  Day 1: The Blade

  The training ground was a patch of hard-packed earth stained with the blood of previous recruits. The instructor was the largest of the four guards, a Hobgoblin with a broken tusk named Grak.

  "Human weak," Grak grunted, tossing a jagged, rusted dagger at Sid’s feet. "Goblin fight dirty. Goblin fight low. You fight high. You die."

  Sid picked up the dagger. It was unbalanced and crude.

  "Strike!" Grak roared.

  Sid lunged, aiming for the wooden dummy set up in the center. It was a clumsy, textbook swing he’d seen in movies. Whack. The dagger bounced off the wood harmlessly.

  "Wrong!" Grak shouted, smacking Sid across the back of the head with a wooden staff. "Wrist loose! You hold like stick! Hold like tooth!"

  Slash. Miss. Stab. Deflected. Lunge. Tripped.

  By noon, Sid was panting, his shirt soaked in sweat, his hands blistered. He was trying to muscle through it, but his Strength stat of 5 was failing him.

  "Pathetic," Grak spat. "Elder eat you in one bite."

  Sid gritted his teeth, wiping dirt from his face. He’s right. I’m trying to fight like a human. I need to understand the mechanic.

  "System," he whispered. "Activate [Arjuna’s Wisdom]."

  Vooooom.

  This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

  The world didn't stop, but Sid’s perception of it shifted. The chaotic movements of the leaves, the dust in the air, and Grak’s stance—everything sharpened.

  When Grak demonstrated the slash again, Sid didn't just see an arm moving. He saw the geometry. Elbow tucked. Center of gravity low. The wrist snaps at the point of impact, not before. It’s not a slash; it’s a tear.

  A golden light flickered deep within Sid’s irises.

  "Again," Sid said.

  He approached the dummy. He didn't tense up. He let his body hang loose, mimicking the hunched posture of a goblin. He stepped forward—silent, fluid. His arm moved like a whip.

  SHING.

  The rusted dagger bit deep into the wooden neck of the dummy, slicing through the grain with zero resistance. No sound of impact. Just the severance.

  Grak’s jaw dropped.

  [Skill Learned: Silent Slash (Rank -E)]

  Day 2: The Elements & The Toxin

  The physical pain of Day 1 was replaced by the mental strain of Day 2.

  In the morning, Sid sat cross-legged in the shaman’s tent. The air was thick with incense that smelled like burning hair. The tribal Shaman, a withered goblin covered in bone charms, held a small flame in his palm.

  "Fire not outside," the Shaman rasped, poking Sid’s chest with a bony finger. "Fire in belly. You eat heat. You spit heat."

  "Eat heat," Sid muttered. "Metaphorical, I hope."

  He closed his eyes. He tried to imagine fire, but nothing happened. Arjuna’s Wisdom.

  The golden light flared again. Sid’s mind dissected the Shaman’s words. It wasn't about imagining fire; it was about friction. Mana rubbing against mana within the blood vessels.

  Sid focused on his core. He visualized his mana (MP: 50) not as a pool, but as a turbulent river. He forced the current to crash against itself. Friction. Heat. Spark.

  He felt a sudden, searing warmth in his gut. He opened his hand. Fwoosh. A small, unstable ball of orange flame erupted over his palm. It wasn't a grand fireball, but it was real magic.

  [Skill Learned: Pyromancy (Rank -E)]

  The afternoon was worse.

  Sid stood over a table covered in bowls of purple sludge and venom sacs harvested from forest snakes. The instructor was a goblin with missing fingers—a testament to the danger of his craft.

  "Dip," the goblin ordered. "Too much, blade melt. Too little, enemy laugh."

  Sid held the dagger over the bubbling purple liquid. His hand trembled. One drop on his skin, and with his low resistance, he’d be dead.

  Focus. The viscosity of the liquid. The surface tension.

  Under the guidance of his cheat skill, Sid’s hand steadied. He dipped the blade at a perfect 45-degree angle, coating the edge in a thin, lethal film without wasting a drop or splashing. He understood not just how to apply it, but where to stab to make the poison circulate fastest.

  [Skill Learned: Toxicator (Rank -E)]

  Day 3: The Hunt

  The final test.

  Sid was dragged deep into the forest. A thick cloth was tied tight around his eyes, plunging him into total darkness.

  "Find us," Grak’s voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere. "Or we break bones."

  Thwack. Something hard hit Sid’s shoulder. He spun around, swinging his dagger blindly. Nothing but air.

  Thwack. A stone hit his shin. Thwack. A stick to the ribs.

  Sid fell to one knee, wheezing. He couldn't see them. They were goblins in their element; they moved silently in the underbrush.

  I can't see them, Sid realized. So stop trying to look.

  He took a deep breath and stood up, keeping the blindfold on. He stopped chasing the noise. He turned inward.

  [Sixth Sense] was buzzing like a broken radio in the back of his head. [Arjuna’s Wisdom] tuned the frequency.

  Don't listen for footsteps. Listen for the displacement of air. Feel the intent.

  The forest painted itself in his mind. The wind rustling the leaves was white noise. The breathing of the goblins was a rhythm. There. To his left. Ten meters. Behind the oak tree. There. Above him. On the branch.

  Sid didn't move. He waited. He felt the air shift behind him—a goblin lunging with a wooden club.

  Sid didn't turn. He simply ducked and swept his leg back. Thud. "Oof!"

  Sid pounced. In one fluid motion, he pinned the invisible attacker to the ground, his poison-tipped (sheathed) dagger pressed against a throat.

  He ripped the blindfold off. Grak was staring up at him, eyes wide with fear and awe.

  The darkness of the forest wasn't an obstacle anymore. It was a map.

  [Skill Learned: Gloom Tracking (Rank -E)]

  Sid stood up and offered a hand to the Hobgoblin. His body was battered, bruised, and exhausted, but his eyes burned with a dangerous golden hue.

  The Third Night.

  The fire crackled, casting long shadows against the tents. Sid sat on a log, shirtless, his body covered in bruises and dirt, but his posture was relaxed. He bit into a roasted lizard leg—it tasted like chicken, surprisingly.

  Around him, the four elite guards sat, no longer looking at him with suspicion, but with a grudging respect.

  Gobta hobbled over, a jar of fermented fruit wine in his hand. He looked at Sid, shaking his head in disbelief.

  "Well, color me surprised," Gobta chuckled, pouring a drink. "To think a human could actually learn all four techniques of the Gobta tribe... and in just three days, no less. You are a freak of nature, Ronin."

  "I told you," Sid grinned, wiping grease from his mouth. "Three days was plenty."

  "Be ready, then," Sid raised his cup to the old goblin. "To be crowned the next Elder of the Goblin Tribe, Gobta."

  "Get some sleep, kid," Gobta nodded. "Tomorrow, we bleed."

  Sid retreated to his tent. He collapsed onto the pile of furs serving as a bed. His body screamed in protest, every muscle aching, but his mind was clear.

  "System," he whispered. "Status Open."

  The blue window shimmered into existence. Sid scanned the numbers, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.

  "Now... these are what I call decent stats."

  [STATUS WINDOW]

  Name: Ronin Class: None Level: 1 Title: None

  HP: 100 MP: 50 STR: 8 (+3) INT: 7 (+2) DEX: 10 (+2) SPD: 10 (+2)

  Hidden Stats: [???]: ??? [???]: ???

  Active Skills:

  Appraisal (Rank -F): Identifies objects and reveals hidden information based on proficiency.

  Silent Steps (Rank -F): Reduces the sound created by movement.

  Silent Slash (Rank -E): [New] A rapid, soundless dagger strike targeting vitals. Damage increases when attacking from stealth.

  Pyromancy (Rank -E): [New] The basics of fire manipulation. Can conjure small flames or imbue weapons with heat.

  Passive Skills:

  Sixth Sense (Rank -F): Heightens all 5 senses and intuition.

  Enhanced Movement (Rank -F): Improves body/mind coordination.

  Enhanced Body (Rank -F): Improves defensive/offensive capability.

  Natural Regeneration (Innate): Increases natural healing.

  Iron Will (Innate): Critical thinking in danger.

  Gloom Tracking (Rank -E): [New] The ability to navigate difficult environments and see clearly in low-light conditions.

  Toxicator (Rank -E): [New] Knowledge of poisons. Allows the user to coat weapons in toxins or resist weak poisons.

  Talent:

  Jack of All Trades: (Effect active: All new skills adjusted to Rank -E).

  Sid closed the window

  . He clenched his fist, feeling the mana hum beneath his skin.

  "Elder Goblin," he whispered into the darkness. "I'm coming for you."