The creature tilted its head and grinned. Its teeth were jagged and stained, edges worn by years of tearing through bone and bark. The smell came next. My stomach lurched, a twist that clawed upward until it burned the back of my throat. I had not even moved closer, yet it was already inside my senses.

Its eyes locked on me. Not just a glare. A twitch lived behind them. This thing was not only angry. It enjoyed what it saw. My discomfort fed it. The corners of its mouth trembled with some foul delight, and its stare burned with hunger that wanted to see me break.

In its right hand, it gripped an ax. Rough stone lashed to a handle, nothing fancy. Clean edge. Deadly edge. Not decorative. It did not swing it around or make a show. It just held it down low, firm, waiting for the moment it counted.

“Fear not, young warrior,” it said. “I mean you great harm.”

The voice threw me. Too high pitched. Nasal. A clumsy imitation of something larger.

A laugh followed, shrill and broken, a sound forced through a throat that had never been meant to shape anything joyful.

Still, I did not move. If it wanted a reaction, it was not going to get one. I tightened my grip on the little stone in my hand. My fingers itched.

“Status Sight,” I muttered under my breath.

________________________________________

Common Goblin (Ankoku, Akai)

Level: 2

Title: None

Description: Common goblins are widely encountered across the wildlands. Green-skinned and feral, they live by looting smaller settlements. Though low in rank, their unpredictability and speed make them dangerous in close combat.

________________________________________

—Level 2. Not great. Not the worst, either.

But I was barely armed. My weapon was a round rock I had named “Stone Nut,” like giving it a name made it less pathetic.

The goblin kept grinning, inching closer, step by step. Sunlight caught the ax in his hand. He wanted to split me open, and he had all the time in the world to enjoy it.

Could I outrun this gross dude?

His legs were short, but they never stopped moving. Jumpy, full of that manic energy predators get before they pounce. I would have bet on him in a sprint.

I looked at the stone again.

This was beyond stupid.

Something in my head clicked loose. No thought, no plan. My arm just pulled back and threw. I did not aim. I did not breathe. I just let it fly and prayed it mattered.

The stone cut through the air.

CRACK.

Right between the eyes.

He reeled and staggered. His expression shifted in real time. First confusion. Then rage. Then something close to wounded pride.

I stared.

Did that actually work? Something in me almost believed it had. Just a little. Maybe this rock was not trash.

It sat on the ground, unmoved, as though its task ended the moment it struck.

And before you ask, nope, that wasn’t strategy. That was panic with a lucky line of sight.

The goblin’s hand drifted to the lump in his forehead. His fingers tapped the spot with slow confusion, testing the shape of the pain.

Then something changed. His brow tightened. A sound ripped out of him, deep and burning, a noise that wanted me to understand exactly what I had started.

For a moment, I let myself believe the advantage rested with me, that the moment bent in my direction. The thought dissolved the instant it formed.

Nope.

He lunged forward.

Stones appeared in my palm one after another. My body reacted faster than I could think. I threw them as fast as I could, not even aiming, only trying to carve space and keep breathing.

“CRAP! CRAP! CRAP! SŌTEN! SŌTEN! SŌTEN!”

One clipped the goblin’s shoulder. Another scored his cheek. The last struck the same place as before, dead center. The sound it made was solid, dull, oddly satisfying.

He stumbled.

My chest tightened as I sucked in a breath. I shifted my footing, dropped low, and summoned one last desperate use of the skill.

“SŌTEN!”

I hurled the stone with everything I had left.

It connected. He jerked backward, eyes blown wide. The ax skittered from his fingers and thudded into the dirt.

I ran, not away from him but toward the weapon. I did not think. I moved. The ax handle was rough and clearly handmade.

The goblin groaned and drew a blade from his belt, short and black and quick in his hand. He stared at me. No words. Only the narrow moment where movement and breath and instinct held everything.

Then he screamed and charged.

I stepped into him without hesitation. I raised the ax and brought it down toward his head.

TING.

The impact rang. It did not cut through flesh. It did not even strike bone. Something about it felt wrong. Too metallic.

We both froze. He looked at me, and I looked at him. Then we both looked at the ax.

He blinked, and I blinked.

There was a suspended beat where we were both clearly trying to figure out what had just happened.

Then I did the only thing I knew when fighting a dude stronger than me.

I kicked him. Hard. Right between his legs.

He let out a sound I could not name. His face crumpled. Something inside his skull had rerouted the wiring. But he did not drop. He stayed there, hunched, one hand clamped on himself, the other gripping his dagger, and he looked intent on ending everything I cared for.

I lifted the ax and swung again.

TING.

Same result. He hardly flinched. He only winced, rubbed the top of his head, and gave the ax an odd, almost offended look.

I looked down at the weapon. It looked the way it should. Sharp and dangerous.

“Hmm,” I muttered, eyes still locked on the ax. “A dud?”

You probably think I have a plan. I didn’t. Not even close. I did something that most likely deserved background laughter or a flashing red warning sign.

I handed the ax back to the goblin. Yeah, I gave it to him.

He lifted a brow, confused. I nodded toward his head, offering him another shot to prove the universe still made no sense.

And that was the moment reason just walked out of the forest and did not look back.

He took it. Turned it in his grip. Studied the edge. A smile spread across his face, full of pride in the ruin he planned to unleash. Then he raised the ax over his head. No second guessing. And slammed it down onto his own skull.

TWACK.

The sound, nope, the whole thing, was wrong. Bone gave way. Blood gushed, thick and dark, pouring fast like something inside him broke open and did not know how to stop.

His eyes rolled upward. His body followed, collapsing in a heap. All motion fell away in an instant. The life that had filled him simply vanished.

Face-first. Silent. Dead.

My jaw dropped, my brain stuck halfway between panic and confusion. There was no victory dance. Just silence dragged long enough to make me wonder if the system had just glitched reality.

I activated Status Sight on the ax, because something had to explain what kind of cartoon logic was playing out in front of me.

________________________________________

Stone Ax:

This Item Is Not Categorized As A Weapon Due To Your Marksman Class. All Attempts To Use It For Offensive Attacks Will Be Nullified.

Would You Like To Change Its Classification To A Tool Item?

________________________________________

“Seriously?” I shook my head, but I allowed the change.

The ax disappeared from the physical world and settled into Tools/Items with an almost lazy blink. No flourish. Just gone. I reached down for the dagger, and yeah, it had the same useless stamp. Could not kill with it, so into the pile it went. Now the two sat side by side like leftover junk from a forgotten goblin garage sale.

A new screen blinked into view.

________________________________________

You have achieved your first kill: Common Goblin

Level Up +1

Gold: 10

Stat Point: 2

Item Drop: Ring +1

________________________________________

“Yesss.” My eyes lit up, and I flipped over to Monetary Items fast enough to make the screen flicker.

________________________________________

Total Gold: 510

Bonus Items: None

 ________________________________________

“I see, five hundred gold to start.” I tilted my head and glanced skyward, putting on a mock tone that would not have been out of place in a really unhinged community play.

“Sorry for cursing you earlier.”

Accessories came next.

________________________________________

Only Five Accessories Can Be Equipped At One Time.

Ring Of Mischief (Rare): Dexterity +1

________________________________________

Damn it. Of course. Same rule.

I didn’t know who had thought symmetry in restrictions was a good idea, but they clearly enjoyed watching players trip over themselves.

Five special skills, five accessory slots. Balanced in the way a poorly designed staircase is balanced. Sure, both sides were equally annoying.

I put on the ring.

A faint shimmer coated my finger, light enough to miss if you weren’t looking straight at it. Probably intentional. Kept other players from scoping your gear. Or maybe just a weird rendering bug nobody had patched yet.

Guess I’d find out once drops got better, or I’d scraped together enough to shop for real.

Ah, right. Still hadn’t checked the Player Status.

________________________________________

AKIRA SAKAMOTO (AOI PLAYER)

LEVEL: 2

CLASS: MARKSMAN

SUBCLASS: GUNNER

TITLE: LOVER OF PEACH

MAIN STATS

HEALTH POINTS (HP): 40 — 100%

MANA POINTS (MP): 300 — 100%

STRENGTH (STR): 1

DEXTERITY (DEX): 2+1

WISDOM (WIS): 2

CHARISMA (CHA): 1

INTELLIGENCE (INT): 30

LUCK (LCK): 1

UNALLOCATED STAT POINTS: 2

OVERALL PRESTIGE (P): +120% (MAX 1000%)

________________________________________

The first thing I noticed was not the stat boost. Not the skill points.

It was the title, perched at the top of the screen, shameless and pleased with its own placement.

I squinted at it. Tilted my head.

Then I stared up at the sky and yelled, “Really? This is what you’re going with?”

It did not respond. Of course it did not.

Whatever system ran this show did not talk back. It just dropped weird titles on your head and waited for the madness to unfold.

I was about to keep going, maybe start a real argument with the heavens, when something cut through the air.

A howl.

It stretched on with no mercy in its tone. A chill threaded through each word, a slow scrape down the spine that felt earned, not imagined.

My pulse lurched into motion. That was not a goblin.

The voice did not even belong to these trees. It drifted in from somewhere else entirely, an existence that had no business sharing this forest with me.

I scanned the treeline. No movement. No glowing eyes. Just shadows. My hands did not wait. They reached down, grabbed every ishi within reach, and shoved them into my Ammo inventory.

When that was done, I glanced back at the goblin. His body was still there. Eyes closed. That blood soaked puddle, already halfway dry, sank into the dirt. It was quiet now, strangely so.

I paused. Not out of guilt. Not even out of respect, really. Just that moment. That peculiar narrative beat where something happened, and it got acknowledged subtly and solemnly.

I bowed, quick and awkward. “Hey, thanks for the ring, and the weird suicide by ax thing. Appreciate it.”

Then I turned and ran.

No last look. No power walk away from an explosion. Just a full body sprint into the trees with my entire nervous system screaming, “Go now.”

Because that sound, whatever made it, I didn’t want to meet it. I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t want to learn its name or hear the theme music that probably played when it showed up.

Not without better gear. Not without real armor.

And not without at least three NPCs who had survived a battle or two and who carried potions in their belt pouches. That was not cowardice. That was self-preservation.

You think I’d been brave, don’t you?

Nah. I wasn’t there to be a hero. I’d been there to live long enough to figure out how this place worked, and that meant moving before I knew what I was escaping from.

That’s the real lesson this world taught you.

Bravery was optional. Running was required.