Days start to bleed together, like a watercolor painting someone forgot to finish.

Same trees. Same cave. Same five-mile radius of dirt, leaves, and existential dread.

Every morning hits me with a rerun of yesterday’s routine. I wake up sore. Train until my limbs threaten to unionize. Forage. Hunt. Eat. Repeat.

And every night, I get the tiniest sliver of progress. Like, blink and you’ll miss it. Stats creeping forward at a snail’s pace on a treadmill made of pain.

“Arghhh!” I yell, pitching my voice at the stream like it’s laughing at my misery.

I’m parked on a rock, glaring at my reflection like it owes me rent.

After all the grinding, all the sweat, all the hours of fighting off oversized forest bugs with an attitude problem… the results?

Meh, at best.

Yeah, I snagged a few STR and DEX points. Got two bonus stats too.

But let’s be real—

I was kind of hoping for something a little more… anime protagonist-y. Like, where’s my glow-up?

My flashy cutscene? My sudden mysterious female mentor dropping from the sky with peaches the size of a melon?

Nada.

I chuck a stone at the water. It skips once, then sinks like my hopes. Ripples spread out in perfect rings. I watch them disappear.

Kiiroi hunting isn’t cutting it anymore.

Those little yellow freaks were solid XP fuel for a while, but that ship’s already sailed. Now they’re just background noise, like filler episodes between actual plot.

If I really want to level up, I need something stronger. Meaner. More goblin-shaped.

Time to hunt the Akai monsters.

It’s a risky upgrade. Stronger monsters mean stronger headaches.

But the rewards? Better loot. More XP. Higher chance of getting mauled.

Y’know… the full package.

Lucky for me, I just scored a new projectile from the ONLINE STORE—Kōkyū. Steel balls. Not even kidding.

They’re a bit smaller than the marble-sized rocks I’ve been flinging around, but these things slap. One clean headshot could probably drop a goblin like a sack of potatoes at a dodgeball tournament.

After lunch—aka dry jerky and Faerie Apple slices (the adventurer’s sad snack), I pack up and head out.

Thanks to the new map function in my status window, I can sort of see where I’m going.

In theory, it’s supposed to make exploring easier. In reality? It’s a hot mess.

My current map only covers the first floor. Just a sad little patchwork of discovered zones and fogged-out unknowns.

Want to unlock better maps? Beat the floor boss first. Classic System.

My mapping skill’s still stuck at level one. Like a baby explorer with a crayon and half a compass. It’s supposed to improve the more I walk around, which just means… more walking.

Yay.

Only real lifesaver is the HUD overlay. A tiny floating mini-map that shows a mile-wide radius around me. Not perfect, but it at least gives me a heads-up before I walk into a monster rave.

I grab my gear, double-check my ammo, and head out.

Two hours of trekking through overgrown bushes, suspiciously loud rustling, and one near-death stumble off a root-covered slope later…

I’m ten miles away from home base.

That’s when I spot it.

Just past the thick brush—footprints.

Not the dainty bird kind either. These are wide. Rough. Fresh.

Goblins.

Bingo.

I activate my default trekking skill.

Nothing flashy. Just a basic perk the System tossed me after grinding Kiiroi Hunter Deluxe Edition for days.

It helps me follow tracks a little easier. Not exactly game-breaking, but hey, I’ll take it.

Even with my stat boost, I’m not dumb enough to go full shonen protagonist and charge in blind.

The Special Skills tomes finally dropped in the online store, but they’re priced like luxury sports cars. No way I’m blowing my hard-earned gold just yet.

I need that cash for essentials.

Like better ammo. And more snacks.

I stay low, hugging the trail like it owes me rent. Eyes scanning the forest floor, slow and careful.

Then—jackpot.

About ten yards ahead, two goblins are parked in a clearing, cross-legged, chomping on what looks like jerky.

Their green, leathery skin glistens under the filtered sunlight, and their sharp little ears twitch like radar dishes scanning for trouble.

Off to the side, a bigger one crouches over a fresh kill.

It’s tearing into a raw rabbit like it just hit the meat lottery.

Gross.

I narrow my eyes and flick on Status Sight.

Time to see what kind of stats this ugly mug’s working with.

________________________________________

Hobgoblin (Ankoku, Akai)

Level: 10

Title: Not So Bright Leader

Description: Larger and stronger than common goblins, hobgoblins often serve as leaders or commanders within goblin tribes.

________________________________________

Okay, I’ll be real with you.

This hobgoblin doesn’t look like the brightest pixel in the loading screen.

But strength-wise? Dude is built like a boss fight.

He towers over his two goblin cronies, thick arms roped with muscle, a jagged battle ax resting against his shoulder like it weighs nothing. His tusks curve out from his lower jaw, stained with… well, hopefully just rabbit. But judging by the smell? Probably not.

Still, even if his IQ is chilling somewhere in the single digits, the guy radiates danger. One wrong move, and I’m turning into a red smear on the forest floor.

I crouch low behind a bush, my heart thumping like a bass drop.

This is it.

A proper test. No more bunny-swatting warmups. No more pitiful EXP gains.

If I pull this off, I’ll finally break the cycle of grind, sleep, repeat.

Maybe even hit the next level. Or die horribly.

Y’know… adventure stuff.

My gaze flicks between the three of them.

The two smaller goblins look like pushovers. Generic NPCs straight out of a starter zone.

But the hobgoblin? Whole different story. That ax alone could cleave me in half like I’m free DLC.

Then I see his title floating over his head.

Not So Bright Leader.

And just like that, an idea sparks in my brain. A stupid, reckless, glorious idea.

The sort of plan you come up with when you’re dangerously bored and only two points into WIS.

Grinning, I pull out my slingshot, load a smooth pebble, and take aim at the back of his head.

Thwip.

The shot smacks him clean on the back of the skull.

He pauses. Scratches his head like he just remembered math existed. Then shrugs and goes back to gnawing on his mystery meat.

Perfect.

I load a second shot.

Thwip.

Slightly harder this time.

His eyes narrow. Suspicion activated. He looks around with all the brainpower of a confused goldfish.

Now for the grand finale.

Shot three. Locked. Loaded.

I pull the slingshot tight and—

Thwack.

Right in the same spot.

This time, he snaps.

The big guy roars like someone has unplugged his Xbox mid-boss fight.

“WHICH ONE OF YOU LITTLE MAGGOTS DID THAT?”

From my leafy hiding spot, I watch chaos unfold like the world’s dumbest sitcom.
Zog (yeah, later I’ll learn that’s his name, but let’s be honest, he looks like a Zog), starts beating the absolute tar out of his own goblin crew.

The poor suckers don’t even get a chance to plead innocent.

Within seconds, they’re lying in the dirt like sad green piñatas.

And Zog? Still fuming.

He stomps off into the woods, muttering goblin swear words, leaving his squad knocked out cold.

I emerge from the bush like a ninja with snack money.

Calm. Cool. Collected.

Then I pull out two kōkyū steel balls and load my slingshot.

I let one fly—Thunk! Headshot. One goblin down.

The other barely has time to blink before I send him to join his buddy in Goblin Sleepytime.

It’s a double kill. No mercy.

“What’s going on here?!”

CRAP.

Zog’s voice booms behind me like a subwoofer on legs.

I whip around.

He’s doubled back, staring at his KO’d comrades like someone just stole his lunch.

For a second, we just lock eyes.

“Sayonara, Not-So-Bright Leader!” I yell, firing a kōkyū straight at his forehead.

CRACK!

Direct hit.

I wait for the dramatic collapse. Slow-mo fall. Fade to black.

Nothing.

Zog just… blinks.

A massive bump balloons on his forehead, but he’s still upright.

“Stone?” he growls, veins bulging. “You think stone can hurt me?”

“It’s a steel ball, you idiot!” I shout, right before I throw myself into a full sprint.

Behind me, Zog lets out a roar loud enough to dislodge a few birds from the trees.

He’s coming.

And me? I’m running like my life depends on it.

’Cause it absolutely freaking does.

Then I hear it—

A sharp whizz slicing through the air.

I barely duck in time as an ax flies past my head and embeds itself in a tree with a meaty THUNK that rattles my bones.

I skid to a halt, dirt and leaves spraying up around me like I just slammed the brakes in a Mario Kart race.

“Yo! Why the heck did you throw away your only weapon?” I spin around, hands up like I just caught him stealing snacks from the vending machine.

Zog’s stopped too. Just standing there like a confused NPC waiting for his next line of dialogue. His massive shadow stretches over the forest floor like it’s trying to be dramatic.

“Huh,” he grunts, scratching his head with a big dumb finger. Then he points at the ax lodged in the tree like a puppy asking for a stick.

“Then can I’ve it back?”

I blink.

“Sure thing, dude,” I say with the fakest casual tone I can muster, already loading another kōkyū into my slingshot.

I pull back, smirking. “SŌTEN KŌKYŪ!”

The steel ball launches with a sharp hiss.

BAM!

Right between the eyes.

Zog howls and stumbles back, a fresh red welt blooming on his forehead. He clutches his skull, groaning like someone just yanked the plug on his brain mid-download.

I don’t let up.

Another shot.

Then another.

I unload every last kōkyū I’ve got, each one smacking into his thick skull with brutal, glorious precision.

He staggers. Let’s out a weird screech. Flails like an angry toddler who just got told nap time is real.

But the dude just won’t drop.

What the hell is that head made of?

Concrete? Vibranium? Reinforced plot armor?

Yeah. Probably that last one.

Then I spot the ax. Still sticking out of the tree like a giant middle finger. Lightbulb moment.

I sprint over, grab the handle, and yank. Nearly dislocate my shoulder, but hey, I get it loose.

With a grunt, I spin on my heel and hurl the thing straight at his face.

The ax spins through the air in a beautiful, deadly spiral…

TING!

It bounces off his skull like I just lobbed a frying pan at a battleship.

I stare, jaw on the floor.

“Oh, come on,” I groan.

Should’ve remembered the whole class restriction thing.

Physical weapons? Not my jam. Or more accurately, my build treats them like pool noodles.

Zog just stands there, rubbing his face, blinking in confusion. Then he starts laughing.

Loud, wheezy, awful laughter. “HA! HA! HA! ZOG STRONG! HUMAN WEAK! HA! HA! HA!”

Every single obnoxious HA smacks my ego like a frying pan.

But then I notice it.

His mouth. Wide open.

Thanks for the free target, dude.

Without missing a beat, I lock and fire one more kōkyū.

Right down the hatch.

His laughter dies instantly. Eyes bulge. He freezes, coughs, then gags hard. Hands go to his throat, flailing like he’s trying to yank the pain out physically.

He stumbles back, legs shaking like spaghetti…

Then crumples to the ground with a heavy WHUMP.

Twitches once. Then goes still.

I blink.

“Wait. Did… did that actually work?”

A second passes.

Then a chime echoes in my ears as a blue screen pops into view.

_______________________________________

You have achieved a great feat in defeating an opponent much higher level than yours: Hobgoblin x 1, Common Goblin x 2.

Level Up: + 2

Gold: 70

Points: 6

Item Drop: Ring x 1

________________________________________

“Yesss!”

I fist-pump like I’ve just unlocked a secret character.

Two levels in one go? That’s a jackpot.

And loot too?

Buzzing with excitement, I check the ring that’s appeared in my palm.

________________________________________

Ring of Stupidity (Trash): Intelligence -5

________________________________________

“… Seriously?”

I stare at it for a moment.

Then hurl the cursed thing at Zog’s corpse like a dodgeball.

“No wonder they called you Not So Bright Leader,” I mutter, rolling my eyes so hard I almost see my brain.

Still catching my breath, I scoop up my remaining kōkyū and raid the goblins’ leftover gear. My muscles ache, and my heart’s still doing double-time, but victory tastes sweet.

Time to head home and soak it in.

About an hour later, I reach base camp.

But something feels… off.

The branches I used to cover the cave entrance are gone.

Not moved—obliterated. Shoved aside like someone bulldozed through without even slowing down.

My stomach drops like a glitchy elevator.

I creep forward, every step careful, every sound making my skin crawl.

Then something moves in the shadows.

It steps into the moonlight, and I almost swallow my own soul.

The thing is a unit.

Ten feet tall, minimum. Its body looks like someone’s fused a boulder with a tree trunk—gnarly muscle wrapped in bark-like skin.

And in its massive hand? A wooden club the size of my entire existence.

“Oh great,” I whisper, throat dry. “I’m so screwed.”